The visit had been arranged the previous week. Larry had managed to contact the couple who lived there now, Rupert and Stephanie Gadd. When Larry had explained things they were understanding, Rupert Gadd promising to be ‘on stand-by’ the following Sunday. Apparently they were just back from Italy.
‘I remember Granny Wilcox showing me Grandpa’s medal,’ said Larry. ‘You remember it, Alec?’
‘The DSO.’
‘Is that like a Purple Heart or something?’
‘The Distinguished Service Order,’ said Alec.
‘Wow.’
‘Where is it now?’ asked Larry.
‘Arnhem,’ said Alice. She had put some rice on to her fork but hadn’t actually eaten anything. ‘Saved his sergeant. Saved him completely.’
‘I guess he was the real thing,’ said Kirsty.
Larry drew the cork on a bottle of Montepulciano. He was the only one drinking.
‘Go easy today,’ said Kirsty in a low voice.
Larry smiled at her. ‘Do you know what side your Grandfather was on? Old man Friebergs?’
‘Je-sus,’ said Kirsty, rolling her eyes.
‘Latvians fought with the Nazis,’ explained Larry.
‘They had more reason to hate Russians than Germans,’ said Alec.
‘How’s your guy?’ asked Kirsty.
‘Lázár? He might have shot a few Russians, I suppose.’
‘I think it was called the Condor legion,’ said Larry. ‘Is that right? Or the White Eagles. A kind of Latvian SS.’
Kirsty glared across the table. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. And my father fought in Korea, so don’t you dare say my family are some kind of Nazis.’
Ella, who had shown no interest in her risotto, asked if she could have a banana. Larry said no, but Kirsty took one from the fruit bowl and peeled it for her.
‘I hate this kind of talk,’ she said. ‘I don’t want Ella to even have to think about it.’
‘A great American tradition,’ said Larry. He pushed away his plate and reached for his glass, but the wine was too light. He needed a real drink. He needed to get out.
‘Granny’s crying,’ said Ella.
It was true. Head bowed over her uneaten supper, one sticky tear had made it to the end of Alice’s nose.
‘Hey, hey… what is it?’ Kirsty went to her and put her arm around her shoulders. She sounded close to tears herself. ‘Are you tired? Huh?’
Larry crouched on the other side of the chair. Alice was saying something but he couldn’t understand her.
‘You want to rest a little?’ asked Kirsty. ‘You want to go back upstairs?’
‘She’s just come down,’ said Larry.
‘For Chrissakes! If she wants to go back up. You want to go back up, Alice?’
Alice sniffed. ‘So sorry,’ she said. ‘What a mess.’
‘OK,’ said Larry, ‘we can do this another night.’ He took his mother’s arms, drawing her from the chair. Over her shoulder he hissed: ‘Where’s Alec?’
Kirsty looked round, shrugged. Ella, her mouth crammed with banana, pointed to the open door.
After this, the evening failed at its own pace. Ella was sat in front of the television set, as if, in any emergency, this was the natural thing to do with a child. Kirsty stayed upstairs with Alice, coming down half an hour later to make fruit tea for her. Alec, lurking in the kitchen, knew that he should go up and check the pillbox. It was his job – the only one of any consequence that he had – but to go into that room now and take the risk of catching Alice’s eye, of not being able to defend himself from what he saw there, of her seeing how utterly split he was between pity and disgust, this was too much. And really, what did it matter if she took her medication? Her fucking medication. It was rare for Alec to speak an obscenity, unusual for him even to think one, but he found himself alone with the supper dishes, muttering to the soapsuds like a derelict. Fucking Larry with his fucking wife. Their idiotic fucking behaviour. His own behaviour. His own fucking stupidity. His fucking cowardice.
‘Not the hugest success,’ said Larry, breezing in with a tray from the dining room.
‘Are you surprised?’ asked Alec. ‘When you go on like that?’ He didn’t look at Larry but he heard the sharp offended intake of air.
‘Like what?’
‘Bickering.’
‘Who was bickering?’
‘Who do you think?’
‘So it’s all my fault?’
‘Can’t you see how ill she is?’
‘Of course I can see! What do you expect me to do about it?’
‘Show some basic consideration.’
‘Well, that’s pretty rich coming from you,’ said Larry, prodding his brother’s shoulder as if to remind him who, between the two of them, had the physical power. ‘Where were you hiding? Eh? Where did you run away to?’
‘You know who you remind me of these days?’ said Alec, scrubbing the non-stick surface off the rice pan. ‘Dad.’
‘I was wondering how long before someone came out with that crap. I just didn’t expect it to be you. Christ! A couple of drinks would improve you no end.’
‘Yeah. I can see how much good it’s done you.’
‘And try getting laid once in a while. I’ll even lend you the money.’
‘Is that what you do? Is that why you two can’t talk to each other any more?’
‘Keep your nose out of it, Alec.’
‘Or were we supposed not to notice?’
‘Go to hell!’
"You go to hell.’
‘What’s going on?’ asked Kirsty.
‘Nothing at all,’ said Larry. He picked up a cloth, and with elaborate care started to dry one of the glasses.
Kirsty frowned, then slid Alice’s mug into the hot water, resting her other hand on Alec’s back. ‘I think she took all her drugs.’
‘Thanks,’ said Alec.
‘She said some weird stuff when we were in the bathroom. Still, I guess she was tired.’
‘What kind of stuff?’ asked Larry.
‘Stuff you say when you’re tired.’ She yawned. ‘I’m gonna put Ella to bed.’
An hour later she went to bed herself. She had moved into the downstairs room with Ella; Larry had shifted his gear upstairs to Alec’s room, where there was an old-fashioned camp bed of tubular steel and wire mesh. There were only single beds in the spare room so this new arrangement had been passed off as a purely practical matter, though who this was intended to fool or reassure, Larry didn’t know.
The brothers finished the clearing up then sat on the sofa in the living room to watch the evening news. After the May election the government was getting busy, declaring a Year Zero, salvaging the nation’s future by making it modern and fashionable. Among the politicians they interviewed there was a strange, compulsive use of the word ‘new’.
Think it’ll work?’ asked Larry.
‘Plus ça change,’ said Alec. But he admired them for trying. For doing something.
Larry said he thought they were some kind of Khmer Rouge, and that he intended to visit a good old English pub while there was still one left to visit. He remembered a place called the Blue Flame, fifteen minutes’ walk across the fields. Flagstone floors, wooden barrels, not quite clean. A place with pickled eggs and cheap cigarettes.
‘Do you mind?’ It was understood that one of them would have to stay for Alice.
Alec shook his head. ‘I might do some work.’
‘No hard feelings about tonight?’
‘No hard feelings.’
‘Just letting off steam. It’s bound to happen.’
‘I know.’
‘Catch you later, then.’