But I reckon I could do it, I could still turn it into living again. I could forget the larger mathematics and take the gamble. Live a little, live again. See them grandchildren of mine, if there are any, the ones who'll survive me. In the surviving years of my life.
I could see the world. I could go to Bangkok.
I could say to Amy, 'About that shortfall.'
He stands there, looking, not telling. His face is all neat and straight, like a list itself. He's taken off his cap and shoved it in his pocket. The breeze lifts the hair on the top of his head. It's hard to picture Vie in a sailor suit, dancing a hornpipe, climbing the rigging, ship ahoy. Lenny's standing, stooped, just inside the gates, like he'll get round in a moment to seeing what's what, if he can just get his breath back first from coming up that hill. He shoots me a glance as though to say this is a place for sailor-boys but maybe us old soldiers should keep our end up. I reckon it's a toss-up, the sea, the desert. Vince has mooched off towards the obelisk. The sun's dazzling on the white stone. Either side of the gates there's a stone sailor, in duffel-coat and sea boots, at the ready, staring into space, so it looks like Lenny's shirking, it looks like he's a real sloucher. The gates are painted blue. Over the top it says, 'All These Were Honoured In Their Generations And Were The Glory Of Their Times.'
Lenny
All the same, I'd like to think my Joan would show up for me, though I wouldn't ever put her to such foolishness. I'd do the same for her, if it was that way round. Which it won't be.
Bleeding hill nearly finished me.
It's a question of duty, that's what it is.
Vic's standing there, looking, and Ray's gone over to chat to Vincey, at the foot of that tower thing. They're gazing up at it like a couple of tourists peering at Nelson's Column. 'Heligoland' it says on it, wherever that is, 'Heligoland. Jutland. Dogger Bank.' But it don't look like they're talking about the tower, it looks like they're talking about something else, strictly between the two of them.
Well I suppose I'm the odd man out here, I'm the odd man out on this whole caper, just along for the ride and the beer, and the hill-climbing. There's Vie there with his lists of dead, as if he don't get enough of that on a daily basis, and them two thick as thieves at the foot of the tower. I never understood how Raysy could get pally with that pillock. I suppose he never had no daughter up the spout by him, though he might've done, if Susie hadn't been whisked off to Australia first.
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.