‘And they’ll do a good job of it,’ said Arthur.
‘Of course, but it doesn’t stop a mother fretting, does it, Guy?’
‘I’ll be fine, Mother.’
‘Yes, of course. But what about Jack? Despite what he thinks, he’s still a boy. Will he be all right out there, Guy? Will you look after him?’
‘Of course I will.’
‘You promise?’
‘I promise.’
‘And how are you both – you and Jack? If you don’t mind me saying so, the two of you seem, I don’t know, a little strained with each other.’
‘We’re fine, Mother, really.’
‘If you say so,’ she said, forcing a weak smile. ‘And how are things with Mary? She’s been so looking forward to you coming back.’
‘She was?’
‘Naturally. Where is she now? Why aren’t you with her?’
‘Leave the man alone, Edith, all these questions, it’s like an interrogation.’
‘Arthur, the Ways are here. Have you said hello to them yet?’
‘The Rays?’
‘No, Arthur, the Ways. Really, I think you do it on purpose sometimes. Come, we must say hello. We’ll leave you to it, Guy. Plenty of pretty girls here tonight, don’t you think?’
Guy lit a cigarette as Jack and Mary, together, zigzagged around the chairs towards him. ‘Hello, Guy, you’re not dancing?’ asked Jack.
‘I’m having to fight them off.’
‘So I see.’
‘Leave Guy alone,’ said Mary. She was wearing a long blue dress, with a sash and a blue feather in her hat.
‘Father’s speech, eh?’ said Jack. ‘Typical father – Edith, don’t misunderstand me. Ah, but we love him dearly.’
‘Shut up, Jack.’ Guy hated his brother for trying to act as if nothing had changed between them. ‘So when are you two going to announce it then? When are you going to tell the world that you are a couple now? Mother’s still under the impression that nothing’s changed. It’s not right.’
‘Look,’ said Jack.
‘Yes, what? Or maybe you can’t. Is that it? You can’t face telling everyone your dirty secret? Too ashamed perhaps.’
‘I’m sorry, Guy,’ said Mary, ‘really I am, but this is not helping. I didn’t want to drive a wedge between you.’
‘What did you think it would do?’
‘Look, here’s Josephine,’ said Jack, waving at Mary’s sister, glad for the distraction. ‘Jo, Josephine, come and join us.’
‘Hello, Guy.’ She kissed him on the cheek.
‘Jo, Jack’s going to France,’ said Mary.
‘Honestly, Mary, I think I managed to work that out for myself.’ She wore an embroidered top, finished off with a necklace, a green bow in her hair.
‘Well, no, not straight away. They’re packing me off to Salisbury Plain first.’
‘To turn you into a modern-day killing machine,’ said Guy.
‘Guy,’ said Mary, ‘you don’t have to be so vulgar.’
‘Ha!’ said Jack. ‘Vulgar, she says, that’s the kettle calling the pot black.’
‘It’s the other way round, you silly boy; anyway, it’s simply not true. I’m not vulgar, am I, Jo?’
‘No, of course not, you’re the very essence of the refined lady about town.’
Despite himself, Guy laughed.
‘So, do you have your uniform yet?’ asked Josephine of Jack.
‘Yes, I am now officially Private Searight of the Essex Battalion. Perhaps Private Searight junior might be more accurate,’ he said saluting, looking at his brother. ‘So soon it’ll be off to France for me. Imagine, Mary, going to France.’
Mary shuddered. ‘Couldn’t think of anything worse – all those...’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, French people. Oh, I like this song,’ said Mary, reeling around. ‘Come, Jack, ask me for a dance.’
‘I was going to have a smoke.’
‘Jack...’ She motioned with her head at Josephine and Guy.
Jack, taking the hint, sprung out of his chair. ‘Mary, er, care for a dance?’
‘Oh, I thought you’d never ask.’
Guy and Josephine watched them take their places on the dance floor, holding each other in their arms. Guy quietly groaned.
‘They make a funny couple, don’t they?’ said Josephine before realising her tactlessness. ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry.’
‘Do they? I suppose they do.’
‘They’re as silly as each other.’
‘I suppose.’
They watched them dance, jostling with others on the crowded dance floor.
‘So, you didn’t want to be an officer?’ asked Josephine, sipping her wine.
‘No.’ She looked at him, and he realised his one-word answer wasn’t enough. ‘I don’t know anything about being a soldier, I didn’t want the responsibility.’
‘There’s plenty that do. No older than you.’
‘Maybe but I don’t want to make a career out of it.’
‘No, I suppose with your father’s business, you’ve already got a career, handed on a plate, so to speak. How old is your father now, if that’s not too rude a question?’
‘Old enough to retire.’
‘Exactly.’ They sat in silence. Guy watched his mother speaking to her sister-in-law, his Aunt Winifred, or Aunt Winnie as he knew her.
‘I must go speak to Vera,’ said Josephine.
‘Vera?’
‘Just a friend.’
He watched her make her way through the throng, moving at quite a speed, he thought. She was attractive, for sure, perhaps more so than her sister, but she was not the sort of woman whose company he would seek. But instead of finding her friend, he saw her leave the hall, exiting quickly via the main door.
He spent the next ten minutes buttonholed by Aunt Winnie, who extolled the virtues of her husband. Such a fine man and, like Guy, served his country faithfully. How easy it is, thought Guy, to revere the deceased. The man had been dead ten years. He had only a vague memory of Uncle Peter, his father’s brother.
Guy felt he needed a respite from the party – he wasn’t used to these occasions, had lost the ability to enjoy such gatherings and joviality. He stepped outside. The night was warm, a slight breeze. The town square, usually bathed in the light of the streetlamps, was pitch black, the lights having being turned off at the beginning of the war. Stepping onto the grass, he stood next to a large tree and lit a cigarette. The time on the big clock at the top of the town hall showed ten past ten. He heard voices, coming from around the corner of the building. Stepping closer, he realised they belonged to Jack and Josephine. Jettisoning his cigarette, he peered round the corner. Jack was there, down the side of the town hall, silhouetted in the shadows, talking in urgent tones to Josephine, who, pinned to the wall, looked like someone trying to get away. Guy stepped back round the corner and listened.
‘Come on, Joe, you know you want to.’
‘That I do not.’
‘I’ve always liked you and I’d finish with her in a moment – you know that.’
‘You’re talking about my sister here, not some cheap woman off the street.’
‘I know that but it’s you I want.’
‘And so what? What good would it do? Look, finish with her if that’s your desire; you have to, you have to be honest with her but if you think I would entertain such an idea then you’re wrong. Utterly, utterly wrong. Now if you’ll excuse me...’
Quickly Guy darted away but realising he wouldn’t make it to the main door in time, chose instead to hide behind the tree. He heard Josephine’s steps along the path, walking briskly, heading back to the dance. For a moment she stopped but then carried on. Jack came up the path much more slowly. He stopped, close to the tree. Guy cursed the ridiculous situation he found himself in, hiding from his brother behind a tree. He could see his cigarette on the path still burning. Jack had seen it too and Guy watched as his brother picked up the cigarette, take a
couple of puffs and then throw it away. It landed to the side of the tree where Guy watched it fizzle out in the wet grass. Finally, Jack ambled back to the party, his hands in his pockets. If he’d been stung by Josephine’s rebuttal, he didn’t show it.
A while later, having sneaked back in, Guy sat down and helped himself to another glass of white wine. He tried to think. His girlfriend had given him up for the most fickle man in London. He saw his parents dancing gingerly, hardly moving and taking little notice of each other, instead both acknowledging the waves and greetings from their fellow dancers. His father was in his element, being the host, the centre of attention. His poor mother, on the other hand, was putting on a brave face; Guy knew she was too worried about Jack’s departure to enjoy herself. He knew that every day Jack was away, would be a day of torment for her. Well, he didn’t share her concern, not now. Jack’s catalogue of immorality had taken him beyond the pale, and as far as Guy was concerned, he could damn well fend for himself out there. What happened to the scheming little bastard was his own lookout.
‘Well, if it isn’t my young cousin.’ The voice belonged to Lawrence, Aunt Winnie’s son. ‘So, what’s it like being in the army then?’ he asked, shaking Guy’s hand.
‘Couldn’t be jollier.’
‘I bet.’ Lawrence was a tall, dark-haired man, with a sharp pointed nose, a long beard and a pince-nez. A good ten years older than Guy, all Guy could remember of him as a child was his appearance at the occasional family get-together. And here they were doing it again. He had never, as far as Guy could recall, had a girlfriend. He was definitely the bachelor type, thought Guy.
‘Could all be over by the time Jack gets out there,’ said Lawrence.
‘I doubt it. That’s what they said last year. And what about you, Lawrence, you’re not tempted?’
‘The call-to-arms, eh? I think not, not really my sort of thing. But I admire those that do; I admire you, Guy. If the Huns think they can just walk through Belgium and set up shop in France, and not get a bloody nose for their efforts, they’ve got another think coming. Have you heard what they’re doing out there?’
‘I’m sorry?’ The noise of the party was getting louder.
Lawrence raised his voice: ‘I said, have you heard what the Germans are doing in Belgium? Raping nuns, for Holy sake, ravaging old women...’ Two maidenly friends of Guy’s mother looked over. Lawrence raised his glass at them. ‘I’ve always considered the Hun to be barbarians. Now we know it, so I say hats off to you; go out there and show them what for. Say, have you got a spare cigarette? Good man.’
‘Do you need a light?’
‘Good man.’ He drew on his cigarette.
‘So what is it you do now, Lawrence?’
‘Me? Still working for the government. Was transport, well, still is, but now, what with this blessed war, it’s less your domestic transport and more to do with military, working with the high command, making sure we’ve got the right sort of transport at the right place and in sufficient number.’
‘Important stuff.’
‘I should say so. Listen, who was that tasty girl I saw you talking to just now?’
‘That was Josephine’
‘Who?’
‘Mary’s sister.’
‘Sister? Didn’t know she had a sister. Don’t look anything alike. So how’s it going between you and Mary?’
‘Well, let’s say we’re not together any more.’
‘No? Oh, sorry to hear that. Listen, if you see the sister again, you couldn’t introduce me, could you?’
Guy looked round for her. ‘She went to find a friend.’
Lawrence put his arm round Guy’s shoulder. ‘Well, if you see her again, bring her over. Good to see you again, Guy.’
Guy could see Mary, wanting to approach him, unsure of herself. As Lawrence disappeared into the party, he beckoned her over. ‘Come, join me, sit down.’ He actually felt sorry for her.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘It’s a lovely party, isn’t it? Thirty years, it’s a long time. Your parents are so lovely.’
‘Yes, lovely.’ He had to tell her, to warn her about Jack.
‘They were so supportive when my mother died.’
‘Not the only one.’
She sighed. ‘Guy, you know it was never meant to happen.’
‘What wasn’t?’
‘You know what I’m talking about. It isn’t your brother’s fault. Don’t take it out on him. It’s just that everything got on top of me – my mother’s illness and looking after her while working. I was happy to do it, of course, and Jo helped but she had her full time job to go to everyday, and it became such a strain on me. And then when she died...’
‘Yes, I was sorry to hear about your mother.’
‘Thank you. It’s been a difficult time. I go swimming now to help me relax. It does my mind so much good.’
‘Swimming champion.’
‘Oh yes, fourth year, nineteen ten. It wasn’t meant to happen, you know, me and Jack. I didn’t mean to cause you pain.’
‘Oh but, Mary, you have. Listen, Mary –’
‘You never wrote.’
‘No.’
‘You said you would.’
‘I didn’t know what to say.’
‘I’m not using it as an excuse but I thought you didn’t care, Guy.’
‘So it’s my fault?’
‘No. No, but I honestly thought you’d forgotten about me.’
They sat in silence watching the couples on the dance floor. Guy spotted Jack, cigarette in hand, speaking to Lawrence.
‘I think you’re very brave, Guy.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes. What you’re doing is such a noble thing. Oh, listen to me, I sound like a newspaper.’
‘The patriotic call to arms. Your country needs you.’
‘Yes, something like that. Not surprised everyone’s joining up with that poster and that face glaring at you.’
‘And his pointing finger.’
‘Yes, it’s enough to frighten anyone into joining up.’
‘How’s your work?’
‘The bakery? Dull but it pays. I’ve decided to join up as well – as a nurse.’
‘You have?’
‘Yes. After all, I got a feel for it looking after Ma for so long. I want to join the Saint John Ambulance and take an examination, a first aid certificate. I’m hoping to become a VAD.’
‘Voluntary Aid Detachment.’
‘Yes.’ She picked up a saltcellar and put it down again. ‘I shall miss you.’
‘You will?’
‘Yes, of course. I know things didn’t work out but I’m still very fond of you, Guy.’
He tried to catch her eye but she looked away. ‘Thank you. Thank you, Mary, that means a lot to me.’ Now, he thought, he had to tell her now. ‘Mary, I think –’
‘You be careful out there,’ she said, watching the dancing guests. ‘Come back in one piece.’
‘I’ll try.’ The quintet started up a waltz. Guy could still hear his father’s voice in the background, rising above everyone else’s. He looked at her hands on the white tablecloth, fingers in the snow; how thin they were, how delicate.
‘Oh, how maudlin we are all of a sudden. Of course we shall all miss you.’
‘Yes, of course. I know that.’
‘There’s Jack, I’d better make sure he’s not getting drunk.’
‘Mary, wait a minute...’
But she was gone.
‘It’s a beastly business, all this.’ It was a chap called Evans, Guy forgot his first name, but another of his father’s acquaintances.
‘What is, the party?’
Evans laughed. ‘No, no, the war, I mean, not the party.’
‘Yes, it’s not a picnic, that’s for sure.’
‘Can’t last for much longer, though, surely.’
‘That’s what they say.’ He could see his brother and Mary, standing to one side of the bar. They were arguing. That much was clear
from their gestures, the way they stood, the way their contorted mouths opened and shut.
‘I was in uniform once,’ said Evans, puffing out his chest. ‘Never saw any action, mind you, but still proud. They’re an arrogant lot, aren’t they?’
Jack and Mary were standing very close, facing each other, trying not to make a scene and indeed those nearby, propping up the bar, seemed not to have noticed. But they were arguing all right.
‘Hmm? Who?’
‘The Germans, of course. Arrogant lot. With us and the French on one side and the Ruskies on the other...’ Then, in mid-sentence, Mary spun on her heel, and walked briskly away, her dress billowing in her wake. ‘OK, they’ve got the Austro-Hungarians on their side, but that’s like playing football with a one-legged blind man in goal. No good to anyone. I do envy you, y’know, Jack. Being able to go out there, do something with your life.’
‘What? No, I’m Guy.’
Jack leant against a wall, away from the bar, and lit a cigarette. He looked over and his eyes immediately set on Guy’s. Guy tried to look away; he didn’t want his brother to think he’d been watching them, but it was too late, Jack had seen him.
‘Guy, yes, of course, Guy. How is that brother of yours?’
‘You can ask him yourself – he’s just here,’ said Guy, motioning at Jack as he came towards him.
Evans could spot a furious man when he saw one and immediately leapt out of his chair. ‘Well, lovely to talk with you again, Jack. Great man is your father, a great man.’
‘That man called you Jack,’ said Jack, scraping back a chair. ‘Did you see that? Mary – flouncing.’
‘Why, what did you say to her?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Didn’t seem like nothing to me.’
‘For fuck’s sake, not you as well. I need a drink.’
Guy felt exhausted. Half an hour later, he found himself alone; chairs all around him, empty plates littering the table, glasses half drunk, food stains spoiling the sheer whiteness of the tablecloth. He exchanged waves with various acquaintances and friends of his parents. Guy himself had had numerous brief conversations mainly with middle-aged men, friends of his father’s. He did wonder whether Arthur had any real friends or were all these guests merely business pals. Had his business not be doing so well, Guy couldn’t help but fear half of them wouldn’t have made the effort. Making hats had been his father’s life and after years of struggle, he was now enjoying the fruits of his many years labour.
This Time Tomorrow Page 4