The Edifice

4. Housewarming

The small wood stove in the house has begun to combat the chill by the time I've finally finished sorting through the photo albums in Lee's old bedroom. The job's more depressing than I expected, I can't help but take my time removing the pictures from their frames. Bob kept pictures of his wife and son religiously, the room all but a shrine to what he'd lost.

I run my thumb over a glossy image of a young Lee bouncing on a rusted trampoline. Mournful eyes gaze back at me. He looks so sad...

I'm woken from my trance by my growling stomach. The cup of coffee and handful of grapes I've had for breakfast have finally caught up to me. I stretch my sleepy legs and seek out the kitchen.

A fond smile finds its way to my lips as I pull open the cupboards and half a dozen cookie tins clatter out onto the bench. So much for the diet plan I'd specifically written up for Bob... he'd complained about it an awful lot for someone who'd clearly been cheating.

I put the kettle on and set out a spread of whatever I can find that's unexpired. Perhaps this is as good a morning as any to try and talk things through with Lee.

I hear him shifting furniture outside and for a moment it's like Bob's never left. The house warm, the kettle boiling and the scent of woodsmoke in the air. I barely want to open my eyes and break this fragile spell of comfort.

The noise of masculine grunting and the clattering of kitchen chairs guides me to the large rear garden. Lee's back is too me, his lanky frame struggling to right Bob's grand mahogany dining table. A haphazard stack of furniture frames it on either side.

"I made some morning tea if you-" Lee steps back at the sound of my voice and I suddenly see his intentions for the table. "What the hell are you doing?!"

A can of petrol rests at Lee's feet, it's contents already soaking through the antique furniture that had been kept for generations. Thin flames already lap eagerly at the wooden legs of the chairs, spiraling around the base in strange patterns. Clearly the smoke I'd smelled hadn't been that of the woodstove.

I barely remember to set down the heavy tray of tea in my hands before I lunge for the delicate lace table cloth strewn over the bonfire. The flames beat me to it however, devouring the fabric in a matter of moments.

I round on Lee. "What's wrong with you? I was about to suggest a- a garage sale or something! I would have paid for these."

He doesn't deign to answer, pulling out a cigarette and holding it over the pyre. Defying gravity, a flame rises like a charmed snake to light it. I blink in shock, but at second glance the flame retreats in length, continuing to burn away innocuously. Lee himself doesn't seem all too surprised at the coincidence.

"You made me tea?"

"Don't you touch that tea!" He freezes with one hand outstretched towards the tray. I give him my most withering look I usually reserve for the most unruly of patients. "That tea is for someone who doesn't ruin everything his parents have done for him!"

The stare Lee returns is so derisive that I can practically hear his thoughts. Are you for real?

"Why are you doing this?"

"Are you paid to be this nosey? Or is it just a hobby for you?" Lee kicks an errant splinter of wood back into the blaze. "You seem to be forgetting that this is my stuff."

"Well your father was my friend!" Heat rushes to my cheeks even as my Lee's outline blurs behind my tears. It's like my body can't tolerate the slightest taste of fear or anger without crying, and right now I'm flailing under both. At least it will serve him right if he feels even a smidge of the remorse he ought to. "He was a good man and he deserved better! You- you don't even know! You weren't there!"