There's Ray and Jack who go back to the desert, same desert as me, Gunner Tate, except I never knew either of them then. There's Vie and Jack who had pitches opposite for the best part of fifty years, Dodds and Tucker, steaks and stiffs. And there's Jack and Vince, one in a bag and one off his rag.
The only reason I'm here, if you don't count being his regular boozing partner for close on forty years, is because of Sally. Is because Jack took her to the seaside when we couldn't take her ourselves. It was a kindness, one of the few that girl ever got. And now I'm taking Jack.
It's a question of duty. There's a soldier's duty, a sailor's duty. Heligoland. Jutland. But if you ask me, that aint duty so much as orders. Doing your duty in the ordinary course of life is another thing, it's harder. It's like Ray always said that Jack was a fine soldier, Jack should've got a medal, but when it came to being back in Civvy Street, he didn't know nothing better, like most of us, than to stick like glue to what he knew, like there was an order sent down from High Command that he couldn't ever be nothing else but a butcher. That shop was his bleeding billet, it's a fact.
Then he fancies going to the seaside.
They look like two spies on a rendezvous, standing there by that tower. One of 'em's got a bag, look, a suspicious-looking bag.
It's like Sally done wrong, for all I don't blame her, for all her having married that nutter on the rebound from Big Boy. Tommy Tyson, care of Pentonville Prison. She should've stuck with him, it'll be worse when he gets out, she should've kept going to see him. Like Amy sees June.
It's a question of paying your dues.
It's like Ray should patch things up with Susie, like Carol should never've run out on Ray. There shouldn't ever be no running off, deserting. Like Vincey should've knuckled down and done what was wanted of him, because he owed Jack and Amy for nigh on everything, and Jack was that lad's father to all intents and purposes.
And Jack shouldn't ever've given up on his own.
Nor should I.
Joan might show up, but not Sally.
They're moving round behind the tower.
So you could say it was Amy who always done her duty, her duty and a half, year in, year out. Never a squeak in return, for all I've heard. You could say she's doing it now, if she's going to see June. Except she could see June tomorrow or she could've seen her yesterday. You'd think she could spare the one day for Jack.
Ray
Vince looks up at the obelisk, all intent, as if it might do something sudden and he don't want to take his eyes off it, as if he's glad he don't have to look at me. It's the first time weVe slipped away from Vie and Lenny. The sun and the view are behind us. He's got his hands in his pockets, his left wrist stuck through the handles of the carrier bag. It must be getting heavy, the plastic cutting into him, but he don't seem to mind. It's like he don't want to be separated from it.
… who have no other grave than the sea.
He looks up at the obelisk and I look up at him. It's hard when you've got the years without the height. But this obelisk must be having a littling effect on Vince, because though he doesn't turn to look at me I can see his face going all sort of boyish and outranked.
It's like when he was pumping me about the yard and he wasn't sure how I'd stand. 'Uncle Ray', he went and called me.
He squints at the white stone, forgot to bring his shades. He should've worn a different tie.
He says, 'I was wondering, Raysy.'
I say, 'Wondering?'
He says, 'Jack never said nothing to you about no money, did he? I mean, when he was— He never mentioned no sum of money?'
There's a stone lion crouching at each corner of the obelisk.
I say, 'What sum of money?'
He says, 'Don't matter,' shifting on his feet. He's got his head up, looking, but it's as though he might be begging. He says, 'Say about a thousand pounds.'
RedcarRiponSandownThirsk.
'No,' I say. 'He never mentioned no sum of money.'
He looks at me now, a quick flicker of a look, then away again. The sun goes in and the white stone goes grey, the breeze is cold on our necks.
'Only,' he says, like he's become the head of the family, 'we've got to see Amy right, aint we? We got to see Amy right.'
Vince
I couldn't've been much higher than that sideboard. You wouldn't think that in a few years Am/d be looking up at me.
She said they were taken when he was a soldier, in the war. There was the two of them sitting on the camel, laughing, Ray in front, Jack behind. And there was Jack all by himself, with his shirt undone, chest bare, holding a ciggy. But I didn't believe her, because I couldn't see what sitting on a camel, laughing, had to do with being a soldier. He was laughing in the other photo too.
I thought, That aint my dad, that aint my dad, laughing.
I said, 'He doesn't look like a soldier.' She said, 'That's why I like the picture.' She didn't explain.
She said it was in the desert, they were in the desert, like Uncle Lenny was too. It was before I was born.
The bananas in the fruit bowl came from Uncle Lenny's.
You had to be grown-up to be a soldier, that's what they said. It was like all the other things you had to be grown-up for, like you had to be grown-up before you could die. Which was a lie. The two things went together because in order to die you had to be brave, and soldiers were brave.
But I know now you don't have to be brave to be a soldier and you don't have to be a soldier to be brave.
'Amy, can I have that photo? Just for a bit'
'Course you can, Vince. You can keep it!
The sun's in his face and he's staring at you, grinning, still alive, like he knows you don't know who he really is. He's staring at you out of that brass frame like he knows he's in another world, peeping out at your one. He's wearing shorts and his shirt's untucked and unbuttoned and there's a tin helmet, tilted, on his head but it looks like it's something he's wearing for fun, and there's sand all around. He doesn't look like a soldier, he doesn't even look grown up. He looks like a kid on a beach.
Lenny
And if Amy was here I reckon she'd keep us all in check, she wouldn't have no misbehaving, we'd all have to dean up our acts. Which wouldn't be no bad thing. I can't see it passing off smooth. Four geezers and a box.
They're coming back now from behind the tower, not talking, like they've spoken and now they're thinking. Big Boy and little Raysy, like Jack and Lucky. Half shut your eyes, and you can see the one pair in the other. Maybe it's the attraction of opposites. It always seemed to me that when you saw Jack and Ray together, Ray was like this little midget Jack'd pulled out from under his coat, this little mascot. Meet my friend Lucky.
But you have to watch Raysy. Just when you think he aint got no advantage he pops up and surprises you, he pops out and does something canny. It's like he hides behind being small.
Vic's still looking at his lists. How much time do we give him? I bet Jack never guessed that to get to Margate he'd have to call in on the Royal Navy. You could say Vic's got a nerve, dragging us up here to look at all these names when it's Jack's day, like saying Jack aint special. But I don't hold it against him, my grouch aint with Vie. It's a question of duty.
Chatham
The sun comes out again and the obelisk casts a long, thin shadow across the lawn towards the curved wall, as if we're standing on a sun-dial. At the right time of the year, when the sun's low, the shadow must shift slowly, every day, over first one row of names then another.