'Is there another room? Lizetta did say there was plenty of space.'
He blushed and stumbling over his words said, 'Yes, erm, wasn't sure what you'd... should've asked Zetta, didn't think, through here...' He took me into the box room, as small as that little room in the attic of Goodmans Hotel where Darren had been living when we first found him.
'This will be okay for me.'
'Bit small, really ought to have...' He coughed and went to fetch sheets and blankets from the airing cupboard before hurrying away downstairs.
Darren came in, saw me holding the bedding and tried to take it from me. 'You should take the bigger room. You'll feel claustrophobic in here.'
'No. Claustrophobia is not one of my problems. For once you have the bridal suite. Really - it's not worth arguing about. We've only been here five minutes and we've already embarrassed Vincent. Don't say anything when we go downstairs.'
After unpacking we went down and found him sprawled on the sofa, arms stretched out and legs wide apart, watching rugby on the television. 'Sit down,' he said, nodding towards the one armchair. 'Come and sit over here, Darren.' He straightened himself up on the sofa to make room and handed him the TV remote control. 'You're probably not interested in this, find yourself something you like. I'm sure there'll be at least one gardening programme on.'
Darren, instead of changing channels, muted the sound and asked, 'How do people get to make gardening programmes? Do you have any idea? They may be all right as entertainment, but most of them tell you hardly anything, and what they do tell you is stuff you know already, like sprinkle some seeds on the soil and cover them up. Do they make a lot of money out of it, those presenters?'
Vincent at first tried to dodge the question by saying that careers advice was Lizetta's field, but quickly recovered his credibility by suggesting Darren ask one of the lecturers at the college about contacting the BBC or one of the TV companies. The exercise might, he thought, be made into a project that could be marked as part of his course work.
Seeing that Lizetta had begun laying the table, I went to help. Our meal consisted of a traditional broth followed by sole bought from a fishmonger in Perth that day. Vincent repeatedly topped up everyone's wine glass, opening a third bottle as we helped ourselves to pudding, with the result that when Darren stood up from the table he was slightly drunk and staggered backwards. He offered to help me clear away, but worried about breakages I persuaded him to sit and relax with Lizetta and Vincent.