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.
We're moving off now, heading for the blue gates. Lenny's still loitering by them, like he was the one who let us in and he's waiting to lock up. Give him a quid for his trouble. Vic's finished, he's put his cap back on, but it's as though Vince has given an order anyway: time's up, back on the coach. We pass through the gates, not in a bunch, talking, but one by one, silent. It's like we've come out from seeing a show and none of us has got a neat comment worked out ready. Vincey's first, I'm last.
We walk back across the open hilltop. The sun and the view and the breeze are in our faces. There's no one else around and all you can hear is our feet scuffling and Lenny wheezing. Where the path starts to slope down towards the trees Vince suddenly comes to a halt and we all shuffle up behind him, like he's held up a hand. Our faces are all bright in the sunshine. He steps off the path on to the grass. He says, Til catch you up, you all go on. I'll catch you up down there.'
We don't have to do as he says, we don't have to take orders, but it's true he won't have a job catching us. Judging by coming up. So we carry on, slowly, single file, gaps between us, me last looking over my shoulder at Vincey. He walks off across the grass, he don't seem to mind about his smart suit and shoes, and I see him stop on the edge of the hill and look at the view like Vie looking at the names.
I dawdle a bit behind the others. Maybe he wants me to do just that. Maybe he's giving me a second chance. But he just stands there, with the bag by his side, staring, like one of them stone sailors.
The sun goes in again behind the edge of a cloud but only for a moment. I look at the view too, I don't want to lose it either, but I turn and walk on down, following the others, so the trees come up and the view slips away. It's shivery among the trees.
We get back to the car but we can't get in because Vince has got the key, so we hang around in the car park, not talking, giving each other quick glances. Lenny looks at his watch. Vic's looking like it's all his fault, but you can't blame him, once he'd decided. It would've been a sort of affront to say, Not if it's going to mean trouble, not if it's up a hill, let's skip it.
And it's not him who's holding us up now.
We wait about a minute. Then we see him coming down the path, carrying the bag. It seems he's as keen as we are now to be pressing on, because he's walking fast, slipping now and then on the mud. His face is all fixed and distant as he comes towards us, like he wishes we weren't around.
I'd say he's done some blubbing too. We all need our moment.
He puts the bag with the box inside it gently on the bonnet, then he unlocks the car and moves round to stow his coat. We take off our own coats but none of us gets in, as if we've got to wait to be told. He shuts the boot then conies back round to the driver's door, twisting out of his jacket. He opens the rear door and slips his jacket, folding it, back on to the rear seat.
'Right,' he says, impatient, 'who's going where?'
Vie says, Til go in the back,' quick as a flash. Lenny and me look at each other.
'So who's going in front?'
It's like he's Daddy and we're kids, and Daddy's getting in a temper.
Lenny looks at Vince.
'Okay Ray,' Vince says, 'in the front.'
It's not where I want to be, not now, but I get in and the big seat swallows me up.
Lenny gets in the back beside Vie.
Vince pauses for a moment by the driver's door, smoothing his hair, straightening his tie, scraping mud from his shoes with a stick he's picked up, then he takes the bag from the bonnet. I think he's going to say, 'So who wants—?' but he passes the bag straight to me. It's like he's passing it to me just so I can mind it for him, close and handy, it goes with being in the front. But I don't know how to take it, I don't know how to take charge of it.
"Ere Raysy, cop hold.'
He starts the engine, grabbing his shades from the dash, and moves off so quick the wheels slip and growl. He swings back through Chatham like everything's in his way. When you've been thinking of the dead you notice how the living hurry. We drive out and join up with the M2, Junction 3, Dover 48, then he really puts his foot down. He's driving like he's making up for lost time, like he's late for an appointment. But there aint no deadline. His neck's gone all tight and rigid. I look across the dash and see the needle flick past ninety-five. In a big plush car you don't notice the speed. Junction 4, function 5. So much for driving as fits the occasion. We're all sitting there like we ought to say something but we daren't open our mouths and I can feel Vie feeling that it's all his fault, but you shouldn't blame Vie.
Vie
But Jack's not special, he's not special at all. I'd just like to say that, please. I'd just like to point that out, as a professional and a friend. He's just one of the many now. In life there are differences, you make distinctions, it's the back seat for me from now on. But the dead are the dead, I've watched them, they're equal. Either you think of them all or you forget them. It doesn't do in remembering one not to remember the others. Dempsey, Richards. And it doesn't do when you remember the others not to spare a thought for the ones you never knew. It's what makes all men equal for ever and always. There's only one sea.