The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper by Phaedra Patrick

him?”
    Kate nodded. “Just a little. I don’t want to wake him.”
    Arthur tentatively reached out to touch the little tiger’s chest. “Wow,” he said. “It’s so soft.”
    â€œHe is three months old now. His name is Elijah.”
    Arthur crouched beside the tiger. He could see now why Miriam would be attracted to this place.
    Kate laid a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Let’s see if we can find anything out about your wife, shall we?” She pointed to several shoeboxes which sat on the table. “I woke up early so started to browse through some old documents, photos and letters,” she said. “I forgot that we had so many. My husband is so untidy but luckily I like to label things. All my photos have dates on the back.”
    â€œThank you.” Arthur eyed the pile and wondered where to start. “Is Lord Graystock up yet?”
    Kate shook her head. “He’s a late riser. I won’t see him until past lunch, especially after all the drinking he did last night. He’s not used to it these days.”
    â€œI enjoyed the evening.”
    â€œMe, too. After breakfast, and after we’ve looked at the photos, I will give you a lift to where you want to go.” She handed him a handful of photographs. “These are all dated 1963. I also included 1962 and 1964 to be certain. You have a browse and see what you can find.”
    Arthur took the photos. There were lots of images of girls wearing flowing dresses, or with smooth beehives and wide kohl’d eyes, laughing, partying, posing. Part of him didn’t want to discover that his wife had been part of Graystock’s harem—another number, a gifter of something that had won her a tiger charm. “Why did so many people come here?” he mused aloud.
    â€œI was the Kate Moss of the day,” Kate said. “Graystock was devastatingly handsome, albeit eccentric. Our house was open for artists, performers, for dreamers, for travelers. Some were attracted by our glamour, others needed a retreat. Some loved the tigers. It went on for many years, until Graystock began to take too many drugs. He became paranoid and aggressive. Slowly, people began to disappear from our lives. I’m the only one who stood by him. I loved him and so did the tigers. We fit together somehow. It works.”
    Arthur almost flicked past the photo of the handsome man wearing a black turtleneck jumper and tight black trousers. His hair was slicked back and he stood with confidence, with one hand on his hip, staring at the camera with smoldering intensity so at first Arthur didn’t notice the petite lady who stood to the side of him. Then he saw that it was Miriam. His wife was standing with this strutting peacock of a man and gazing at him, her eyes full of admiration.
    A wave of nausea flooded over him at the sight of her with another man. He took a gulp of his orange juice to wash it away. He had no idea he was capable of such jealousy, but the thought of Miriam and this man curled up in bed together made him want to clench his hands into fists and punch something hard. He turned the photo to show Kate. “Do you know who this is?”
    Kate gave a short, sharp laugh that didn’t suit her. “That is François De Chauffant aka the most arrogant man who ever lived. Graystock and he were friends in the sixties. He stayed here many times, with many different women. One night he and Graystock sat in the front room drinking too many brandies and Graystock told De Chauffant a family story that had been passed down through generations. A year later De Chauffant published his new book—and it was Graystock’s story. He called it Stories We Tell . It should have been named Lies I Tell . He had the audacity to claim that it was his own family story. Tsk. After that, the men did not speak any longer. In my view, this was no loss.”
    â€œHe was a novelist?” Arthur took the