Riley dipped his head, and took Nadine’s arm into his.
Robert glanced from him to Jacqueline and back. ‘Oh,’ he said. Nadine was frozen.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Robert.
‘They should be sorry,’ Jacqueline said. ‘Well – they will be, won’t they? A silly girl and a boy who doesn’t know his place. How ridiculous.’
Riley saw his new mother-in-law’s short breath, and the high triangles of pink on her cheeks. Somewhere, he felt pity and it warmed him through the horrible little silence that sat on the room. Silence can mean so many things. His arm was firm under Nadine’s hand as she let go of it.
‘Well, never mind. Goodbye, Daddy,’ she said, and leant in to give him a kiss. ‘Goodbye, Mother’ – from a safe distance. ‘Don’t worry. As the war’s over, we’ll probably all survive long enough for you to indulge your little fit of pique.’
‘Darling girl,’ Robert said.
‘We’ll see you soon,’ she said, and blew him a kiss on the end of her finger.
Riley watched her: My lovely, beautiful fighting girl.
As soon as they were out of the house she took Riley’s arm again, and held on to it.
‘You up for the next round?’ he asked, and she nodded tightly as they walked.
Walking up the street towards Paddington, his family, his childhood, a cloudy shame rose in Riley. Yes, he had every excuse under the sun, but he had neglected them. One afternoon in 1917 his mother had burst into the ward and not recognised him and shrieked and collapsed at the sight of his fellow patients; just before Christmas last year he had arrived out of the blue and stayed for fifteen minutes. Other than that, he had not seen any of them. You could have handled it better, said one little voice; you did your best, said another. Anyway. Now was the time for putting things right.
Up towards the canal, they turned into the little terrace of little houses.
As they came up to the door he could see his mother from the street, scrubbing the inside of the front windows with newspaper. She would have dipped it in vinegar. He remembered the smell. She did it every week; so near the station, things got dirty quickly. A figure moved behind her: Dad.
Riley squeezed Nadine’s hand, and knocked.
A moment or two passed before Bethan opened it. He knew she had been hiding the newspaper wads and taking off her apron.
‘Hello Mum,’ he said, apologetically, and she squeaked, and put her hand to her mouth, and called, ‘John! John!’ And his father came, and dragged him in, and he said: ‘Dad – Mum—’ and though his plan had been just to blurt it out, quick and straight, he found he couldn’t speak at all, so he sat at the kitchen table, and Bethan put the kettle on the hob, and John came through, and looked at him, and patted his shoulders, and said, ‘My boy.’
‘There’s a woman outside in the street, just standing,’ announced a girl, popping round the kitchen door – and, seeing the man at the table: ‘Oh my word, what’s this?’
Riley looked up. Looked down again. Looked up, and laughed. Wispy, pert, blonde, mouthy.
‘Elen?’ he said.
Her face went very wobbly.
‘You look exactly the same,’ he said.
‘Well you don’t,’ she said. ‘What the hell happened to you?’
‘Kaiser Bill stole my jawbone,’ he said, and stood, and smiled, but she pushed past him saying: ‘Excuse me. Four-and-a-half years, Riley. Four-and-a-half years and … three postcards … and a promise of a teddy bear. The war ended last November, or didn’t you notice?’
‘Elen,’ said John. ‘Mind your lip.’
‘I’m right though, ain’t I?’ she said. ‘It’s not fair on Mum. Well I suppose I’m glad you’re back. You are back? Merry! Merry?’
Merry was in the doorway, staring. The little room was already crowded now. How am I going to fit Nadine in here? Merry was darker, heavier built, more guarded. She stared at him.
‘Here’s Riley!’ said Bethan, encouragingly. They were all in a sudden parabola of cross-currents. So many emotions. Riley felt unsteady. He should have written. It wasn’t fair on them. Sunday afternoon.
‘How do you do,’ said Merry, and Riley flinched. She’d been eight when he left. Both girls were looking at his scars.
‘Yeah, Mum said your jaw was blown off,’ said Elen brutally. ‘That a new one, then?’
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘Fancy,’ said Elen.
‘Make the tea, Elen,’ said John. ‘You all right with tea, son?’
Riley took his brass straw from his pocket, and twirled it sadly at his father. Merry stared at it.
Elen poured the boiling water, and plonked the pot on the table. ‘Well, thanks for turning up, Riley. I’m back off now, Mum. See you next Sunday, same as usual.’
‘Elen,’ said Riley and Bethan.
Elen’s mouth was white as she swept past. Merry hopped out of her way.
‘Elen,’ Riley said again, and turned to follow her. Bethan put her hand on his arm. They both heard Elen say, at the front door, ‘You might as well go in. I don’t know why he’s bothering to be tactful.’
Merry was still staring when Nadine appeared in the kitchen doorway, and said, ‘Hello,’ quietly.
‘Miss Nadine!’ cried Bethan, and John shot Riley a look, and Riley took a big breath before stepping to her side, past the chair and the coal scuttle and Merry. Quick to the kill, quick to the kill.
‘Mum,’ he said. ‘Dad. Nadine and I are married.’
It was Merry’s face his eyes landed on. Big tears were on her young cheeks.
‘Oh, Merry,’ he said. ‘Oh, Merry.’
Silence drifted, pulled and swung between them all. Then Bethan said: ‘We would have liked to have been informed.’
John held his hand out to Nadine. ‘Married,’ he said. ‘You married our boy? Well. Well. Good for you, Miss.’
‘I know it’s all odd,’ Nadine said. ‘Please call me Nadine. I think that will make it less odd. Please.’
Bethan gave a kind of roll back on her heels, a surveying look with a chin lift, which said, ‘so that’s how it’s going to be’.
‘It’s all right, Ma,’ Riley said. ‘We were afraid of a fuss. That’s all. We didn’t even want a wedding. We just wanted to be married.’
‘All your worldly goods, eh, Miss?’ said Bethan. ‘There’s nice.’
‘I don’t have much,’ said Nadine, and got a withering look.
‘Who’s going to wear the trousers, if you’re to be a kept man, Riley?’
‘Mum!’
‘Wounded hero only lasts so long. What about when you’re just a sick, ugly man with no money? Where are you going to find a job to keep her? No offence, Miss Nadine, and I’ve always liked you well enough.’
‘None taken, Mrs Purefoy,’ said Nadine, mortified. ‘I like you well enough too. Riley, should we give them a little time to get used to it, perhaps?’
Bethan was grinning. Riley saw her waiting for him to agree to Nadine’s