Not that she’d mind terribly; not if she knew her daughter was with Julian Legrozet, who, even with dreadlocks and unfortunate political views, came from the proper background.
Tea. A nice cup of tea, as they said in Mother’s circles. She went to the kitchen and filled the kettle, took the cherry mug from the drainer. The water was almost boiled when she heard someone knock at the door. Julian. He’d given her his key.
Coming, she shouted. At first she couldn’t see anyone through the glass, but that was because it was someone much shorter than Julian. She turned the Yale latch and opened the door.
Clare!
Is Danny here? He asked us to bring some claes for him. She held up a dark blue holdall. I didn’t know you were gonny be here. Danny never told me.
Aren’t you supposed to be at school?
And I thought he might like this CD player. I couldny carry his whole stereo. She thrust a portable CD player towards her. Her appearance was rather different from the way it seemed in Florence; she was much more an ordinary schoolgirl today, on an ordinary Monday. Danny’s little sister, her red hair tied back in a single plait, lying coiled in the fur-trimmed hood of her white coat.
She realized she was looking through a narrow space between the door and its frame, like an old lady trying to keep out bogus workmen. The thought embarrassed her and she opened the door wide to Clare. Won’t you come in?
When’s Danny comin back? The girl made no move, but kept her big eyes on Laetitia’s face. Defiant.
I don’t know, she said. He went out about an hour ago. It was funny, she picked up a definite hard gleam at the core of Clare’s demeanour, in the set of her mouth, the tilt of her chin, a little nugget of determination to stand up to this bossy cow. An Elizabeth Bennet moment: My courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me. It was odd, this realization that she could be seen as threatening, given how much of a wuss she’d been lately. I don’t imagine he’ll be that long, though.
Well… maybe I will wait then if… She tailed off, the if it’s OK left unsaid, the defiance hard to sustain.
Yes, it’s fine. Come in. She turned towards the living room, leaving Clare to shut the door and follow. You can put Danny’s stuff in here; this is where he’s sleeping.
Clare set the bag and the CD player on the floor beside the red sofa and looked around. Her eyes rested on the Bob Marley poster, then darted away. Laetitia could see the flush rise pink over her face.
I’m making a cup of tea, she said. Would you like one?
No, you’re alright.
Well, I need one. Have a seat. It seemed impossible to avoid a school mistressy tone; the girl invited it.
Clare perched on the edge of the sofa, while she made for the kitchen. Why had she asked her in? She’d been caught off balance. Worse, Julian should be back any time, now. The last thing she wanted was a repeat of the scene in the pensione. She reboiled the kettle, poured water over the teabag, carried the mug back through and sat on one of the brown armchairs.
I tried him on his mobile, but it’s switched off.
Who? Danny?
Aye. He doesny want to speak to my ma. She’s dead worried about him. He left a message on her mobile when he knew she would be at her work and it wouldny be on. He said, Stayin wae Jed. That was all. My ma’s up to high doh. Clare turned big worried eyes on her, two spots of pink on her cheeks. This was as animated as she’d been so far. She clearly took her role as family intermediary seriously.
Danny’s fine. You can tell your mother. He’s already organized Jed and… he’s made a big difference to this place, I can tell you. It struck her as oddly touching that his mother should be worrying about him. If she was. What happened to drive him out? she asked.
Clare wriggled in her seat. Against the red of the sofa, she was the little white girl again. She spoke hesitantly. Him and my da… they had a big fight on Thursday. My da didny hit him or nothin, don’t get me wrong, but he was shoutin and bawlin. Callin Danny for everythin. He doesny mean it, my da. No really. It’s like… He just… He’s like…
It looked to Laetitia as if the girl was ready to cry and she wasn’t sure she could cope with that. Reassurance seemed called for. She warmed her hands round her mug. Danny shouldn’t be that long, she said. I think he was going job hunting – I’m not sure. Wouldn’t you rather take your coat off while you wait?
Whatever hard edge Clare had had at the door, she’d lost it now. She did as she was told, unzipped and shrugged the coat off her shoulders. Underneath, she wore a white blouse and a black skirt, knee-length black socks, sensible shoes. No doubt her school tie was in her pocket. Her plait hung fat and red down her back.
And on Thursday night, Danny ran out and naybody knew where he’d went. He didny come here that night. Or the next. And we didny hear nothin from him.
Doesn’t he have other friends?
Aye, we checked wi all the ones we could think of but and he wasny there. My ma was goin mental. She got my aunt Patsy to come up fae Helensburgh and drive her round the streets a Glasgow lookin for him. She even phoned the hospitals, the A&E departments, in case he’d landed up there.
Why was your mother so worried? Danny’s pretty capable of looking after himself, I should have thought.
Clare gave her a look she couldn’t quite read, but she had a sense it accused her of being obtuse. There was heat in her little Glasgow voice when she spoke again.
You don’t know what it’s like in the scheme. Two a Danny’s pals fae school have topped theirsels this year already. And another yin tried last month. I know my da’s worried about that too, even if he kids on he’s no.
Topped themselves. There was nothing she could say to that. A circle of light wobbling on the ceiling was the reflection of her tea. She studied the strong black liquid in the mug, looked out the window. The pigeons were on the roof across the road again, perched in grey serried ranks. Perhaps it was they who made the sound of footsteps overhead at night. A glance at Clare told her she was struggling to contain herself. Danny’s fine, Clare. Really. He’ll be back soon.
Clare stared at her feet, didn’t answer.
Of course, it would have to be Julian who came back first. She let him in and tried to signal to him that Clare was there, as he launched straight into a tirade against his fucking stupid supervisor. But subtlety wasn’t his strong point.
Julian, Clare’s here, she said finally, overloud, and jerked a thumb back towards the living room. He looked startled for a moment, a little flustered. But only a moment.
Oh, right, good, he said, pitching his voice to the same volume as her own. Come to see her big brother, has she?
Her mum is worried about Danny, she said, shrugging her shoulders and making a don’t ask me face to Julian as they reached the door of the living room.
Hi, Clare, he said. He flung himself down in the brown armchair. She’d put her coat back on and had it wrapped close across her middle with folded arms.
Hi, she said. She gave him the merest glance.
Fuck me, this place has been transformed! His voice was forced and jolly, though Clare probably wouldn’t notice; he was avoiding looking at her altogether.
Yes. It was Danny, she said. He’s worked wonders. I told you, didn’t I, Clare, that he was sorting Jed and Julian out?
Oh, I wouldn’t say that.
The place was a tip, Julian! A pigsty! Totally uninhabitable. She was jolly too. She felt very English suddenly. This was a game of Punch and Judy for Clare’s benefit.
And Clare was watching them now, less self-conscious, frankly interested. You mean Danny’s been doin housework? He never does any at hame. Even her voice was pitched to cheery. As if she’d already sussed out the game and was now making her play. My ma calls him Dirty Dan. She smiled, looked from Julian to her.
Julian smiled back. She waited for the smart remark, the subtle putdown, but it didn’t come. Not at first. Well, he’s a regular Mrs Mop here, isn’t he, Tish? he said finally and gl
anced at her.
If it weren’t for Danny, I’d have been out of here, I can tell you. The words were hanging in the air before she realized, but she continued in the same heightened tone. He simply got down to it and transformed the place.
Well, jolly hockey sticks! Julian said, and sat forward in the sagging chair.
Clare was glancing from Julian to her with those great eyes.
Your brother, the magician, he said. The Worker of Wonders. He was looking straight at Clare now as her eyes darted about for some means of escape from the headlight dazzle of his gaze. It struck her that their eyes were similar: big and blue, though Clare’s were darker, closer to grey. And she hadn’t yet learnt to use them the way Julian did, as weapons in the various skirmishes of life. She ought really to have had Danny’s green eyes, though, to go with her red hair.
Well, you’ve got to admit it, Julian, you and Jed had rather let it get out of hand. This was not a role she relished but she felt somehow squeezed into it, scolding the boys for their mess, an ally suddenly of Clare’s mother.
She heard the footsteps on the stairs for some time before registering them, then a key turned in the lock and Danny was in the hall, whistling again.
The man himself, Julian said, and got up from the chair. There was something oddly middle-aged about the move, as if in the presence of Clare, they’d automatically become the older generation.
Danny came straight in, holding some keys, yellow and silver, in the palm of his hand. Got a couple of sets of keys cut, he said and stopped. Clare? Is everything OK? You alright?
Aye, I’m fine. She stood now too, her arms hanging at her sides, though she looked as though she’d like to fling them round her brother. My ma’s dead worried but. I brung you some claes like you says. And a CD player. She pointed to the bag and machine on the floor.
Well, here we all are again, Julian said, clapped his hands once and rubbed them together. Isn’t this spiffing?
And here… Clare reached into the pocket of her coat. Here’s your birthday present. It was obviously a CD, though it was wrapped in pale green paper with a squashed rosette of emerald ribbon on the front.
Aye, thanks, Clare. Danny took the gift from her. He seemed ill at ease. Almost bashful. He turned it over a few times in his hand, studied it.
No gonny open it?
Aye, I will. In a minute. Just gies a chance. He looked from the present to the keys in his other hand. Oh, before I forget, here’s a set for you, Laetitia. Jed left us his and I got another couple cut. One for you and one for me.
Well, don’t you just think of everything? Julian said. The forced jollity had a sharper edge now. She read the signs and they spelt Danger.
Thanks, Danny, she said, and would have slipped them into the back pocket of her jeans, but she looked at Julian and thought better of it. Aren’t you going to open Clare’s present? The two of them looked at her blankly. Well, I’ll leave you both to it, she said to them. I’m off to our room. She hadn’t meant to emphasize the our quite so much. Julian didn’t follow when she made for the door.
She was halfway across the hall when she remembered Aunt Laetitia’s diary and hurried back. It was on the chair by the window. Forgot this, she said, waving it into the room. It was as if she were in some dreadful stage drama, miscast in a role she didn’t know how to play. But the attention of everyone was elsewhere. Julian was sticking down the edge of a STOP THE WAR poster, concentrating overmuch, she thought.
Danny had the paper off his present now and held the CD up to look at it. Snow Patrol? he said. Never heard a them.
You will. They’re great. I seen them at King Tut’s a couple a months ago wae my pal Farkhanda. Clare put a finger on the back of the plastic casing. That’s a crackin song. They’re an Irish band. I think you’ll like them.
Laetitia took a last look at the tableau of characters in their different poses, and slipped out of the room again, unnoticed.
She stayed in the bedroom for the rest of the afternoon. There were various comings and goings. Julian went out without saying goodbye to her. Danny and Clare were in the kitchen at one point, rattling dishes. She tried to get back into her aunt’s looping handwriting, but it was hard to concentrate. More art galleries; more descriptions of paintings. There were some children playing out in the drying area, though it was already dark by three o’clock. Two of them, a girl of about eight and a younger boy, got involved in a scuffle over a silver scooter. It glinted in the available light as they pulled its handlebars this way and that. The girl won the contest and the boy went howling towards one of the other back doors. It banged shut behind him and cut him off mid-shriek. At about half-past four she heard the door of the flat again and Jed’s voice joined Danny and Clare’s. Still no Julian.
To hell with this!
The three of them were in the living room when she came through. Clare was on her feet, zipping up her coat. She’d loosened her plait; her hair spread now over the white hood, a dark red cloud, as if it had been rendered in pastel crayon, smudged at the edges.
Hi, Laetitia, Jed said. Did you get your espresso this mornin? He had his black suede jacket, hooked on one finger, slung over his shoulder; one corner of his white shirt was hanging down the front of his jeans.
Yes, thanks, she said. Two, actually. It’s a good little café, that. Great coffee.
Clare’s just away, Danny said. He turned to his sister. Mind an tell Ma I’m fine. Everythin’s hunky-dory.
The girl gave her brother a smile that was close to adoring and put her arms round his neck. Danny looked embarrassed and unhooked her. Right, Wee Yin, better get hame before my ma clocks you’ve been doggin the school the day.
You been doggin it? Jed said. Oh, ih! Naughty girl. Watch you don’t go the way of your wastrel brother. Slippery slope.
Danny punched him on the arm. Who you callin wastrel? One a they wee animals that slink about the countryside?
That’s a weasel, ya daft cunt.
Clare was laughing and Danny was grinning. Jed looked at them and a light dawned. Aye, right, he said. Ha, ha. He punched Danny’s arm now. A familiar routine, obviously.
And the three of them moved to the door to let Clare out, Danny and Jed still jabbing at one another.
Bye, Clare, she called out. Nice to see you again. There was no reply from Clare; just her feet echoing down the stairs, the slam of the outside door.
The two boys came back in, laughing at a joke she must have missed. Jed tossed his jacket on a chair. Any mail for me? he said.
Oh, yes, she said, I believe there is. That is, if your name is Arjun? There are three letters for Arjun Singh.
That’s me alright.
So, why Jed?
Jed–Arjun–shrugged.
He’s a Jedi Knight, Danny said. He leapt up on the arm of the chair and started waving a virtual light sabre. May the force be with you.
Jed was watching him, but she noticed he wasn’t smiling.
Danny jumped down again. It was great. I had a green light sabre and Jed had a blue one.
It was the other way about, Jed said.
What?
I got a green one and you got a blue one, but you says you should have the green one cause you were Irish. So in the end we swapped.
I don’t remember that, Danny said. He looked perplexed; his black brows were down. Anyhow, we played Star Wars that much, Arjun changed his name to Jed.
No, you did.
What? What you sayin, man?
You decided I should change my name.
I decided?
Yeah. Look, forget it. Where’s my mail, Laetitia?
On the sideboard in the hall, I think. He went off to fetch the letters. Danny still had a frown on his face. She could see his mind ticking back over the past and drawing a blank.
Jed came back in, ripping the envelope off one letter, another already open. He unfolded the sheet inside, gave it a cursory glance and tore at the third. Same old, same old, he said. Three We regrets.
What are they? she said.
He spread the letters out like a fan and spoke over them. His black-framed glasses gave him the air of a newsreader. We regret to inform you that, on this occasion, you have been unsuccessful. The standard of candidates was extremely high. Thank you for your interest in our company. And may we take this opportunity to wish you every success in your future career. She wondered why he used an English accent to deliver the speech.
Is that they jobs you went for a couple a weeks ago? Danny asked. They biochemical research jobs?
The very same.
Aw, man, I’m sorry. That stinks.
To high heaven! Jed said, pitched his voice like a drama queen, and flung the letters into the air. Danny caught one; the others landed on the floor at their feet. He picked them up too.
Aw, man. How many’s that now?
Don’t rub it in! I’ve lost count.
Bastards don’t deserve you.
Aye, right. See if you say, What’s for you’ll no go by you, I’ll fuckin kill you.
Would I? Moi? What I will say is this… Danny paused, looked at them both with serious eyes, arched by his great black brows.
What?
… Qué sera, sera.
And she watched them trade play punches and slaps again till they collapsed laughing, limbs tangled, on the red sofa.
None of them heard Julian come in. He’d spoken before she realized he was in the doorway behind her. She turned to look at him.
Oh, hi, Julian. Where have you been? He’d clearly got caught in the rain; drops of water were dripping off his chin and his parka was soaked. Underneath his eyes had those bruised circles again. She hadn’t noticed them earlier in the day.
Out and about, he said. Here and there.
It was hard to make out his mood. What did you say when you came in? I didn’t hear.
I merely remarked on what looked like a bit of homoerotic bonding, that’s all. And, I might add, the audience did seem a tad voyeuristic. He was smiling at her, but it felt strained.
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