Aftermath by Peter Turnbull

but rather Yellich found it to have the harder, more functional character of a single man’s house. The mantelpiece, though, contained framed photographs of a younger Jeff Sparrow with a wife and a son, and spoke of happier, more fulfilled times. Sparrow sat in an armchair and his legs were of such a length that they inclined steeply from his waist before his calves fell vertically into the carpet slippers that encased his feet. He wore an old blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of equally aged lightweight summer trousers. The interior of the house had a slight mustiness about it, so Yellich found, and thought that should she be so inclined, Penny Merryweather could do much for Jeff Sparrow in terms of housekeeping. The small garden of the house was neatly kept as, Yellich thought, fully befitted a head gardener (retired).
    â€˜Lonely man,’ Sparrow had a soft but distinct accent of the Yorkshire Wolds.
    â€˜Mr Housecarl?’
    â€˜Yes. Who else? A lonely man. Lovely man but very lonely, very on his own. I got the impression that was what he had got used to rather than how he wanted it to be. But a lovely man just the same.’
    â€˜Yes, Mrs Merryweather told me what he did for your son.’
    â€˜For me and my son . . . but yes . . . what other man would pay for his gardener to go to Australia and collect his son from an institution and bring him home? Lovely man. We . . . his staff, just couldn’t do enough for him when I told them what he had done, the village too. He was worshipped in this village. If ever a position became vacant at Bromyards, in Mr Housecarl’s employment, a queue would form.’
    â€˜I see. How is your son now?’
    â€˜Very ill, but thank you for asking, sir. He has something called “paranoid schizophrenia with complications”, so the consultant told me. He’s in a flat in a housing association tenancy in York. It has a controlled entry so that gives him some protection, and he gets an injection of his medication each week which keeps him . . . level . . . but that’s not the right word, that’s not the word the consultant uses.’
    â€˜Stable?’ Yellich suggested.
    Jeff Sparrow smiled. ‘Yes, that’s the word he used. And because he has his medication injected they know he takes it. I often think it’s like pruning or pollarding a fruit tree, or making sure a lawn is very closely cut, stopping the wild thing inside from growing. It keeps him acceptable, like a well-cut hedge. It’s just the way I think. I’ve never been anything but a gardener . . . left school to become an under gardener at Bromyards. So it’s the way I think.’
    â€˜Understandable.’
    â€˜But he’ll always be ill, poor lad, he’ll always be a hedge that needs trimming, but he likes the nurse who visits and the other help that’s been linked in, someone to help him do his shopping. I call round but I know he’s embarrassed about his situation so I don’t visit too often. He had his breakdown in Australia and they put him in a hospital which was run like an army camp, where the patients had to address the nurses as “sir”, but we got him home . . . me and Betty had him back. Betty is deceased now but she lived to see him home and settled in his flat, all thanks to Mr Housecarl.’
    â€˜I’m sorry.’
    Jeff Sparrow opened the palm of his right hand. ‘It can’t be helped, and she was the sort of woman who would have let Tom be a burden to her, even in her autumn years. It’s best that he’s as independent as he can be.’
    â€˜I know what you mean,’ Yellich smiled. ‘I have a son who has special needs, he’ll always be vulnerable, never have a mental age of more than twelve years. He’ll always be dependent to some degree.’
    â€˜I’m sorry to hear that,