With Ray Johnson. So when Vince Pritchett, but forget the Pritchett, dropped into my lap, into our lap, I ought to have known it wouldn't help a bit, it wouldn't win him back. You can't make a real thing out of pretending hard. You can lead a horse. That Amy Dodds' a kind soul, taking in that Pritchett kid, what with her own little problem. Ah, but that's the reason, aint it, don't you see?
From then on it was me and you, and him and Vince. Meaning him and Vince against each other, him and Vince at daggers drawn, cleavers drawn. But it keeps men together, it keeps them occupied, fighting.
Yes it was here, Vince, here. This was where. Here, in the garden of.
And what you'll never know is that it was even truer than you once believed, before you learnt better. All done with hops, all done on the hop. Because it was in a hop-bin. A twenty-bushel hessian hop-bin, slung between its trestles. All-round privacy, could've been made for the purpose. Like two rabbits in a sack.
And what you'll never know either is that three nights later up on that hill, near that old windmill, which had its sails then, he looked at me, firm and steady, straight and steady, and said, 'You're beautiful, d'you know that? You're beautiful.' It's not what you expect from a butcher's boy. It turns you over to hear a man say that, fills you up. To be alive, to have lived to hear a man say that, any man, and to know, by his smile, that he means it.
Like you never did, June, or could or ever will.
The things that do and don't get told. The tallyman would come with his sticks and his notcher, to count your bushels, to take a look at your bushels. With his stony face that said, I'm the tallyman and don't think you can get round me. Your stick better tally, your notch better marry, serious business, tallying. 'Now then. Mitchell, Amy...' Never smiling. So maybe I imagined it, but maybe he would've smiled, just a hint, just a glint, if he'd known, that it was in that very bin.
Vie
Just as well, I thought, I was still in my uniform. All the nice girls. Only a month or so from demob. Four-year stripe now as well.
But she said, 'So what do you do then, Vie, when you're not mucking about in boats?'
I thought, Well, here it comes, it had to come, and I know just what follows. First she'll look at my hands, just a dart of a look like she thinks I won't notice, but I will. Then she won't look at me at all but she'll start taking a keen interest in the features of this thrown-together dance hall, except she won't be looking at them either so much as doing some quick rethinking in her head. Then when I ask her about the next time, she'll come up with all the usual excuses.
And she was the best of the bunch so far, Pam Summer-field, the best of a not-so-long and not very long-lived list, best as a straight eyeful but more than that. A bounce, a balance, a nerve. Like she wasn't going to miss out on any fun going, she wasn't going to not take her chances then regret it later, but there was something there that was for the long course too, that wasn't born yesterday either.
And she was kitted out as good as you could expect for Gosport, Christmas 1945. Pink and black number, like she meant serious business.
The band was playing Chattanooga Choo Choo.
I said, 'Ships, not boats.' But I thought, You've got to be straight with this one, and I'm not going to come the old son-of-the-sea, and she was going to have to ask sooner or later, and maybe her asking now was a sign.
So I said, Tm in the undertaking trade. Family business.' She looked at me. She didn't look even for one moment at my hands. She looked at me and said, 'Well I never, Vie, well I'd never have guessed. Well at least you won't be out of a job, will you?' Then she looked down then up again quickly as if she wasn't going to change her course, and there was a smile just in one corner of her mouth. 'So you'll be used to handling bodies then.'
Ray
He says, 'Wanna do a deal with the yard?'
Springing it on me quick and sudden, looking at me with that cocksure, you-aint-going-to-refuse-me look, like he can see me thinking, He must be joking, since what's he got to do a deal with? But he's not joking, he's serious, and he knows I'm going to come round, just wait and see, to whatever it is he's fishing for.
I say, 'What deal? We already got a deal.'
He says, 'We aint got a deal, we got an arrangement.'
I say, 'A pretty good arrangement I'd say, from where I'm looking. So what's the problem?' Thinking as how he's got two cars in there now that he's stripping down to fancy up. There's a Rover as well as an Alvis, not to mention recent use of the camper. Recent use. Like the place has become his home.
He says, 'A very good arrangement, for which I aint ungrateful. But that was like your kindness. Your kindness to an ex-soldier-boy who wanted to mess around with motors, who wanted to keep his hand in as a mechanic. I can't expect that to go on indef, can I? I can't expect to rely on your kindness.'
He picks up his pack of ciggies and shakes a couple up out of the foil, all neat and practised, and offers me one and lights it. He says, 'I aint ungrateful, Uncle Ray.'
Uncle Ray.
And I think, I wonder if he knows how I got it all wrong, read the picture all wrong. How I thought he could do with a bit of taking under my wing, seeing as how Jack once took me under his. Seeing as how I might not be here otherwise, twenty-five years on, having a beer and a smoke with Vincey in the Coach, I might be lying under a cross in Libya. Least I could do was return the favour, give the lad a help-out on his return to Civvy Street, and take him off Jack's hands. Except Jack didn't see it that way, I should've known. He hadn't given up, even after five years of having to. Dodds and Son.
My foot in it, my big little foot.
And things had shifted now anyway, they'd shifted into a whole new picture, what with that girl sleeping under Jack and Amy's roof, at least part of the time, what with all the comings and goings, what with it seeming suddenly like everyone was looking for a new place to pitch their tent. What with them afternoons at Epsom.
/ hear that you and Auntie Carol. I'm sorry to hear that, Raysy.
And maybe I'd never've let Vincey use the yard, maybe I'd never've picked him a horse to buy his first used car with, Shady Lady, Sandown, six to one, if Amy hadn't said, 'Vincey's coming home, he'll be home in a month or two. I think we better stop this.'
He says, 'Besides,' and he pauses to light his own ciggy and to blow out a big cloud of smoke, he looks at the smoke like he's looking at his life. His knuckles are all cracked and blackened. 'Besides, now I'm going into business, I'll need premises, I'll need to do it all proper. If you're going to have a business you got to have premises, aint you?'
I say, 'You're going into what?
He says, 'You heard, Raysy.' Raysy. Getting cockier, lifting his beer and taking a swallow. 'It's like I always said all along, I aint just doing it for fun, except maybe you thought I wasn't serious. But I want to do it proper, see, I want to do it right. Otherwise you could always say, "You know that arrangement we've got, Vincey? Well, I don't want to keep it going any more, sorry, I've got other ideas for the site." And that would be that, wouldn't it? I wouldn't have no choice.'
I say, 'But I haven't got other ideas for the site.'
He says, 'Well maybe you should have, Raysy. It's good commercial space, aint it?'
I look at him. I say, 'It's not a site, it's a scrapyard. It's still got Dixon written on the gate.'