PART 5 — PELL STREET
I am nineteen now.
The house on Pell Street is let and the rent goes into the trust and I will not see any of it until I am twenty-one, which is exactly what she wanted and which I have stopped arguing with.
I have been inside it once, with the trustee, in the November.
There is a photograph on the wall in the back bedroom of a boy of about four on a wall at the seaside.
It is me. She had it up for thirteen years in a room she did not use.
Roland rang about it in the August after I turned eighteen, which is precisely eleven months after the car, and I have not answered any of them.
The car went back in the November. Voluntary termination, apparently.
Bevan married my mum last year. I was the witness.
He has never once mentioned that afternoon in the garden, not in two years, not even as a joke, and I have come to understand that this is the single most Bevan thing about him.
