Converging Lines – Bentley 4

[For back story see lower numbers in archive]

Joe Wicks was explaining to Bentley why being active was still important for a man of his age. Bentley was pleased enough to accept this advice, although he was a little skeptical of it coming from one so young, particularly from one with a bad hand which clearly would get no better without decent rest. It wasn’t this that made Bentley pause, and then stop, however. He’d watched and done the same video three times already. He’d got through it fine the first time, not too bad the second, but the cough and breathing was worse today. He clicked off the smart TV and consigned Wicks to the world of YouTube.

Bentley was sure – fairly sure – he didn’t have the virus. That virus. He had something, yes. It was familiar though, it had the ring of a usual cold to it, of the disorientation he usually got when his nose went wrong and his tubes were up the spout as he’d say.

He was expecting today’s call. He even knew when it was going to happen, who it was going to be and why. And he’d even put Covid in the kitchen and closed the door so as not to be disturbed. So when the phone rang he gave it a couple of seconds to give the caller the attention they deserved.

“Hello, this is David Bentley,” he said.

“Hello Grandad,” said a female voice. “Can I call you that?”

“Yes,” said Bentley, “Of course you may.”

This hadn’t come through a phone trail. Instead it was a case on online detective work. Partly from Bentley’s side, party from Natalie’s side. Natalie. Late teens, looking for answers, time on her hands to go searching and somehow, her line of enquiry had intersected with Bentley’s. She was following a trail that took her towards the local national railway terminal. He was just trying to find if Lawrence was in Brighton or Bournemouth.

“I, er, I’m not sure where to start,” she said.

“How are you?” asked Bentley, kindly.

“Very well, thanks,” she said. “As far as that goes, I mean. You know. Fine health wise and a bit – confused – otherwise.”

“Understandable,” said Bentley. “I’m sorry we can’t meet in person.”

“Prison? Why prison?” Said Natalie, alarmed.

“Person,” said Bentley again. “I have a cold.”

“A cold?”

“Yes, just a cold.”

“Good, although, I’m sorry, but… Of course we could could do – I mean, meet in person one day,” said Natalie. “If you want to.”

“Have you heard from your father at all. Recently?”

“No, no. He’s um, he’s in Chichester,” she said.

Bentley raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything, and his gesture didn’t make any give away noise on the phone.

“He was offered a job at an estate agents,” she said confidently. “Moved from Brighton six months ago to do it.”

“And how is it going?”

“Great – as far as I know,” said Natalie. “Sends me money every now and then. It helps. I’m a student. Doing art – well, art and textiles so it’s got some practical skills to it. Making stuff, you know? I mean, it means I can do clothes and stuff if nothing else sort of works out.”

“What would you like to do, if it did all work out?”

“I – well, I’d like to be a designer, you know? Fashion or material or something like that. But…”

“Any reason why it shouldn’t happen?” asked Bentley.

“Don’t know…. Not like anything’s for sure now though,” pointed out Natalie. “I mean I had loads of ideas for what I’d do – what I’d be doing now and everything, but it’s not happening is it? And I don’t know what’s going to be possible when it’s over. Whenever that is and whatever we can do then.”

Bentley made a few other cautious enquiries into Natalie’s life, skilfully backing away when she appeared nervous, and studious avoiding asking anything direct such as where she lived or what her number was. There was no point in scaring the poor girl, and if she wanted to be in touch again, Bentley felt sure she would be.

“Did he tell you about me?” she asked finally.

“Oh yes,” said Bentley. “Talked about you all the time. Just – wouldn’t let me know where you were or see you. He’s like that though, secretive about certain things. And very proud.”

Bentley was a little worried his lie was inconsistent, that it didn’t ring true in itself. But he’d never been that honest with his family, and even ones he’d only just found. And he wasn’t about to treat her any differently.