Albert spent the bus journey not speaking and looking out the window. Beside him, Danny couldn’t enjoy the ride. He had mixed feelings about everything right now. On one hand, he thought of Wendy and her family and how excited they were to hear about the liaison with Cohen and Costa. On the other, he was wrestling with feelings of disappointment and guilt on his friend and mentor’s behalf.
As the bus reached his stop, Danny gripped Albert’s arm.
“I want you always to be involved, Albert,” he said. “I wouldn’t be a fighter if it wasn’t for you.”
“We’ll see,” answered Albert non-committally. “Good night, Danny.”
It wasn’t quite the answer Danny had wanted as he left the bus and watched it move off down the Whitechapel Road.
The sun was beginning to rise as Danny wearily reached home. He felt empty and alone, like he was the only person left in the world.
Going upstairs to his room, he could hear the distant sound of Ricky’s snoring down the corridor. Reaching under his bed, he picked up the red and silver box, opened it and sifted gently through the contents. For no particular reason, his eyes filled with tears.
“What’s happening, Dad?” he whispered.
In the past, Danny had always answered his own questions the way he imagined his father might have done. He didn’t do that now. Everything seemed so futile, so pointless. Here in the early-morning hours, he felt nothing at all.
Closing the box and his eyes, Danny drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
DANNY woke up to the sound of Rosie’s hairdryer. His brain felt like lead and the hairdryer sounded like a road drill as he tried to lift his hungover head from the pillow.
This was the big day. The day when he should have been feeling excited. After all, he was about to marry his childhood sweetheart and future mother of his baby. But his subconscious was still troubled by loyalty to Albert, and the reality of marriage and fatherhood without a handbook to guide him along the way was sinking in. So a black cloud hung over Danny’s morning, obscuring the view.
It was already eleven-thirty, and the service was scheduled for two p.m.
Albert was supposed to arrive about twelve to begin his best man duties. Danny hoped he’d make it, not least because Albert was picking up his wedding suit and bringing it over. His only back-up – the old navy suit – was still encrusted with food from last night’s shindig. He could just imagine Wendy’s face if he turned up in that. A Norman Wisdom-fitting suit, smelling like a putrid larder.
As Danny eased himself into the bath and the comforting warm water, he could hear Rosie discussing with Ricky what she should wear for the wedding. He hoped she would give the leopard-print dress a miss and wear something a bit classier, but he wasn’t hopeful. As for Ricky, if he turned up in one of his Elvis outfits, Danny was ready to disown them both.
Feeling slightly more upbeat and a touch more human after his bath, Danny looked in the mirror as he shaved. He was really starting to resemble that cherished photograph in the red and silver box. This somehow made Danny feel stronger, more in control. As he looked in the mirror and smiled, it almost felt like his dad was smiling back.
The clock downstairs struck noon as the doorbell pealed out its annoying Big Ben chimes. Albert, thought Danny. Right on time.
As Ricky opened the door, Danny heard Lenny’s voice. He grabbed his dressing gown and went downstairs.
Lenny looked like somebody else, dressed in his best cream suit with shoes you could see your face in and a very serious expression.
“You look sharp, Len,” said Danny.
“A choc ice dressed as a pox doctor’s clerk,” Ricky grunted. “Now I’ve seen it all.”
“I got something for you, Danny,” said Lenny, ignoring Ricky.
As he handed over Danny’s wedding suit, shirt, waistcoat and cravat, Rosie made her grand entrance down the stairs, dressed to kill in head-to-toe leopard print topped off with a giant pink hat. The impression was not unlike a movie star from a bygone era. Rosie held her head high in a cloud of cheap perfume and struck a model-like pose.
“What d’ya think?” she said, and gave her audience a bit of a twirl.
Danny and a startled-looking Lenny nodded without a word.
Ricky whistled. “Beautiful, my darling,” he said. “The belle of the ball.”
Danny decided the best thing was to escape upstairs as soon as possible and get dressed.
“Thanks for the suit, Len,” he said. “Where’s Albert, is he on his way? He was supposed to be here for twelve.”
Lenny cleared his throat. “I saw Albert,” he said. “He came by me garage this morning, to give me the suit and a letter he told me to give you.”
Danny slowly took both the letter and the suit.
“I’ll be back later with the car to pick you up,” Lenny added.
“Yeah, right,” said Danny, staring at the letter. “Thanks Len.”
Danny headed up the stairs. Sitting on his bed, he opened the envelope.
DEAR DANNY,
Sorry, but feeling a bit rough today so I am unable to make the wedding. I send my very best wishes to the bride and groom. I hope you have a wonderful day, and I wish you both well.
ALBERT
He had half-expected this. He knew at once that the presence of Cohen and Costa at the wedding had brought on Albert’s mystery illness. With no best man, and indeed no best friend, Danny felt deflated. He felt like going round to see Albert, but thought he’d better not force the issue. Besides, he wasn’t sure where Albert actually lived, because he had never invited Danny round.
Danny decided he had enough on his plate today. Though he was disappointed, he tried to look on the bright side. At least a drunken confrontation at the wedding breakfast between Albert, Cohen and Costa wouldn’t now spoil Wendy’s big day. And Albert had been spared meeting Rosie and Ricky and their unique fashion sense.
Feeling like a trussed-up chicken, Danny was soon suited and booted and ready to go. Rosie and Ricky headed off to the church on Ricky’s BSA Gold Star motorbike, with Rosie desperately holding on for dear life to her very big hat. It felt to Danny like the lull before the storm.
All was now quiet, the empty house full of memories. Danny listened to the clock’s tick-tock, the soundtrack to his growing up. Danny’s mum’s pride and joy, second only to her radiogram, the grandfather clock in the hall was like the heartbeat of home. As Danny looked around at the familiar furniture and ornaments he had lived with all his life, a wave of nostalgia came over him. Soon it wouldn’t be his home any more.
As the clock’s second hand moved slowly and he heard the clock chime one, Danny thought about the many things the house had seen. His mum’s parties, which had kept him awake. His childhood friends congregating around the gramophone and playing Rosie’s records before she came home. The pet mouse he had called Micky, and how he’d cried when Micky died. His bedroom upstairs where he’d once put together the model of a Spitfire. The smell of cooking mixed with Rosie’s perfume, the kitchen tap that always dripped and the stairs that creaked; all would soon be memories.
He walked into the living room, found his favourite record, Tutti Frutti by Little Richard, and put it on. It sounded good. Danny liked the way the music transported him back to a less complicated time.
When the record finished, there was just the tick of the clock and the dripping tap to be heard. The clock struck one-thirty, and Danny came back from yesterday to now and to the future. To the wedding.
For a small fee, Lenny had procured a nearly new Ford Cortina from one of his clients to act as a limo and to drive Albert and Danny to the church. When Danny opened the door, he saw Lenny with the polished and valeted Cortina, the usual wedding ribbons attached to the wing mirrors for the occasion. There was no Albert in the back. Danny had hoped Albert might have a change of heart, but no.