The Family

‘Now you done the right thing by her, they ain’t going to care either way.’ Robert took his brother’s lapels between his fingers and straightened them. He re-pinned his carnation with deliberate slowness to allow his brother to blink the glistening tears from his eyes. ‘Come on, you daft git, forget about the past. You got a future with Pam and a baby to think about now.’ He gripped Stevie’s shoulders in an encouraging way. ‘Your wife ain’t going to thank you for going soft on her tonight, you know,’ he lewdly mocked.

Stevie sniffed a laugh, still blinking rapidly. ‘I know you shouldn’t say it about your own, but … God, am I glad he’s six foot under.’

‘Everyone’s glad he’s gone,’ Robert said brusquely. ‘Now that’s enough about him; this is a day to enjoy and I ain’t talking about any of it no more.’

‘If you two don’t come back in, I’ll bring the party out here.’ Silhouetted in the aperture of the pub doorway was a young woman dressed in a white silk sheath that stopped short of her knees and displayed her shapely legs. She sashayed forward a few steps then hopped and removed first one then the other of her shoes and carried them with her. ‘Gawd, me dogs aren’t half barking. Old uncle Ned must’ve trod on me feet a dozen times when we was doing the Charleston.’ She slipped her arm through her husband’s. ‘What you two doing out here?’ She gave her brother-in-law a meaningful look, whilst massaging sore toes. ‘What’ve you been up to, Rob? Vicky’s been looking for you. I reckon she thinks you’ve gone off her.’ She paused, hoping for an answer but all she got was an indifferent shrug. ‘We saw the way Gloria was making a play for you earlier.’ Stevie’s new wife slanted her sly eyes up at her brother-in-law. ‘In case you don’t know the rules, Robert Wild, the best man’s supposed to get off with the bridesmaid, not the tart behind the bar.’

‘I’ve been enjoying a smoke,’ Robert explained smoothly and ignored the rest.

A subtle glance passed between the brothers.

An hour earlier Stevie had stepped into the Duke’s corridor just in time to see his brother gliding downstairs shrugging on his jacket. Gloria had reappeared a moment or two later and taken up position behind the bar looking flushed and secretly pleased. Robert had made sure he’d timed it right: the drinking by that time was well under way and the pair of them wouldn’t have been absent long enough to arouse any suspicions. Stevie knew if he hadn’t happened to nip out for a smoke and a breath of air, he’d have been none the wiser either. Robert didn’t boast about his conquests, or anything else he had.

Gloria was a looker with a magnificent bust that magnetised a man’s eyes from the moment he was over the Duke’s threshold. Stevie wouldn’t blame any bloke for taking off her what was offered on a plate, even if the chance had come up during his wedding reception and the girl with an ambition to become Robert’s sweetheart was Pam’s bridesmaid. Stevie knew his wife’s friend was kidding herself. So did Robert, although he seemed in no hurry to shatter Vicky’s illusions about hooking him. His brother wouldn’t restrict himself to just one woman. Pam could matchmake all she liked, but Robert would take or leave Vicky Watson, just as he had all the others who’d believed they could rein him in and get his ring on their finger.

At that moment Vicky flounced out on to the pavement. ‘So, where’ve you been?’ she demanded of Robert, fanning her sulky face with a hand.

‘I’ve been right here. Why d’you want to know?’

A sheepish smile was Vicky’s apology and she fixed her eyes on the cigarette packet rotating idly in his hands. ‘I wouldn’t mind a fag.’

Robert offered her the cigarettes and once she’d taken one and he’d lit it, he started towards the pub. Vicky quickly slipped her arm through his and the newly married couple followed, locked in an embrace that made them stumble and giggle. Stevie swung his new bride into his arms and carried her wriggling over the threshold.

‘That’s you two sorted out for later. That’s my boys.’ The growling voice erupted in a lascivious chuckle.

Robert glanced over his shoulder to see a couple, half shadowed by a high wall, watching them.

‘Piss off, mate. Private party.’ Robert had already ejected several gatecrashers from the reception. The chance of a free feed and unlimited booze was too hard to resist for most people who lived around Campbell Road and struggled to put a plate of chips on the table. Once news of the wedding had got around, half of The Bunk’s inhabitants had been angling for invitations to the reception.

‘That’s no way to speak to yer old dad, Bobbie.’

It was a moment before Robert pivoted about. Only a few people called him Bobbie now. Family, mostly.

‘Remember me?’

Now the ribaldry was gone, Robert realised the voice was the same even if the man in front of him looked to be a pale imitation of his former self.

The father he remembered had been a muscled fellow with a dark head of hair and a lean face. The man sauntering towards them looked to have shrivelled in height and ballooned in weight. He appeared, too, to be fair-headed but was, Robert realised, almost completely grey. But his eyes, dark and sharp, were the same, pinning him down, still no escape.

For a moment Robert felt rooted to the spot, trapped in his brother’s nightmare of last night. He licked his parched lips and shot a look at his brother. Stevie was gawping at him, slack-jawed, waiting for reassurance that it was just a phantom and everything was going to be all right.

‘Go back inside.’ It was a hoarse murmur as Robert disentangled his arm from Vicky’s clutch and gave the middle of her back a little push to hurry her on her way.

She tottered forward with a mew of indignation.

‘Go inside, Pam,’ Robert ordered his sister-in-law, his voice strengthening.

She looked mutinous, but Stevie dropped her quickly to her feet, where she landed in an ungainly hobble. He nodded vigorously at her to do as she’d been told. His obvious agitation prompted her to obey, albeit with a sullen expression.

‘What the fuck d’you want?’ Robert spat through his teeth as soon as the two young women had disappeared into the pub.

‘We thought you died in the war. We thought you was dead.’ Stevie’s words emerged in a strange, high-pitched whine.

‘Ain’t dead, son.’

It had been said in that gentle way Jimmy had that had always set Rob’s teeth on edge. His crooning voice had been as deceitful as everything else about him. Robert took a step forward to put himself between his father and his brother.

‘Just some real bad things was goin’ on at the time and I had to get away,’ Jimmy continued in his dreary drawl. ‘Best thing for everyone, you see, for me to disappear fer a while.’

‘Best thing now ’n’ all,’ Robert ejected through his teeth. ‘So get goin’ ’n’ don’t ever come back. There’s nothing here for you. D’you understand? Nothing.’

‘That ain’t nice, Bobbie.’ Jimmy sounded plaintive. ‘I come to wish me son all the best for his future happiness, ain’t I?’

‘How d’you know I was getting wed?’ Stevie had recovered a little from his shock. Although he was visibly shaking, he had a few questions ready. He grabbed the cigarettes from Rob and fumbled to get one lit then dragged deeply on it. ‘You been spyin’ on me? How d’you know anything about me now?’

‘Just ’cos I ain’t been around, don’t mean I ain’t been keepin’ a watchful eye on yers. You’re me flesh ’n’ blood.’

Robert threw back his head and roared out a vicious laugh. He took a menacing pace forward, stopping Jimmy from coming any closer to his brother. Their father had been edging forward one step at a time and Robert knew it was his intention to win them over with his wonky smile and weasel words. When they were kids it might have worked; just as a whipping with a belt had worked. But it was different now.

‘This ain’t the time fer none of yer lies,’ Robert enunciated through stretched lips. ‘If you care about Steve’s future happiness you’ll fuck off now and stay away from all of us.’ He jabbed a finger close to Jimmy’s chin. Now he was within striking distance he could see what the dusk had disguised. One side of his father’s face now had a slightly concave shape as though, at some time during the last decade, his cheekbone had been smashed. ‘So get going or there’s gonna be blood ’n’ guts all over the place.’ Robert leaned forward. ‘We ain’t scared of you now. You’re nothing to us and we ain’t interested in any of yer threats or promises …’

‘Bobbie … hang on … let’s hear where he’s been …’ Stephen had reverted to using his childhood name, something he hadn’t done in many years. Robert knew that hearing Jimmy use it had prompted him to do so and it enraged him. He swung about and glared at his brother.

‘You’re not wanted here.’ Robert sent that over a shoulder at his father as he gripped Stephen’s arm and shoved him towards the pub.

‘We goin’ in fer a drink, Jim? Could do with a drink, Jim.’ The woman who’d been lurking quietly by the kerb took a pace forward. Her short, skinny body had easily been overlooked in the shadowy gloom. But now she nervously approached. Edie Greaves had need of a drink and Jimmy had promised her he knew of a place where they could go this evening and get treated handsomely for free. In fact, he’d been promising her many good things would come their way once they got to Islington. In Edie’s eyes, the only benefit so far had been in managing to abscond and leave a pile of debts behind in Kent.

Robert turned back just in time to note the change in his father’s attitude. He recognised the look gripping Jimmy’s sagging face and it turned his guts. Jimmy sorely wanted to tell the woman to shut up or, as he’d frequently done with their mother, stop her complaints with his fist. But he couldn’t because he was putting on an act for them all. The prodigal father had come to give his blessing to his son’s marriage. Like fuck! Robert knew that if this miserable, cowardly excuse for a man had come to find them it was because he wanted something very badly. The crafty bastard had probably already made it his business to find out that Stephen had nothing to offer, so Robert knew it was him he was after. Somehow, Jimmy Wild had discovered he’d done all right for himself and had come back to Islington to see what was in it for him.

‘What’s goin’ on?’ Matilda Keiver came bursting out of the pub trailing people in her wake. ‘Pam said there’s a feller being a nuisance. Want him shifted, Rob?’ The crowd behind her chortled and encouraged her playful belligerence. Everyone knew Tilly Keiver wasn’t frightened of a fight. If a bloke needed a slap, she was the one to give it to him. And he’d come off worst. Her nephews knew her reputation too, and would usually have laughed along with the others.

But they didn’t; and after a moment it penetrated Matilda’s booze-fuddled brain that something wasn’t right. She marched forward, whiskey glass in hand, squinting into the dusk to see who was causing a ruckus at her nephew’s big day. After their mum had died, and when they were just starting out fending for themselves as young teenagers, Tilly had done what she could to help Rob and Steve even though money was tight for her too as a war widow. She still treated Fran’s boys as an extension of her own family. Today she’d had the status of the groom’s mother, and the bride’s family were duly conscious of her role.

Tilly stopped and frowned at the man lounging against a wall a few feet away.

‘Hello, Tilly. Remember me?’

At the sound of his voice, she froze, open-mouthed, her whiskey hovering by her lips. A moment later the glass slipped from her nerveless fingers and shattered on the ground, spattering her shins and the hem of her best dress.

‘Jimmy?’ she gasped, and tottered a step closer, her head leading the way as though she were trying to identify a deadly reptile without getting close enough for it to strike.

‘Long time no see,’ he murmured, grinning at her. ‘Bet you missed me, ain’t yer?’

At this she bounded forward, letting fly with her fists. ‘You fuckin’ bastard! You should be dead!’ She sobbed in anguish.

Jimmy ducked easily out of the way of her assault. ‘No need fer that, Til. I’d’ve got you another drink, gel, honest!’ He hadn’t lost the knack of winding her up in a way that only she could hear and understand. ‘Still need the booze then, do yer?’ he laughed, fending her off as her clawed fingers flew at his face.

And that was all the private chat they managed after not seeing one another for almost ten years. The next moment Edie Greaves had hold of Tilly’s thick, fiery hair and was yanking back her head to slap her face. Robert landed a heavy hand on his father’s chest and shoved him so hard he was freed from Tilly’s grip and went tottering backwards until he collapsed on his backside on the pavement.