Half past three and I am still the only person in this square waiting room. People go along the corridor occasionally, their shoes squeaking on the floor tiles. My legs are heavy from sitting too long. I am drifting into a kind of daze. I see Dinny’s camp in my mind’s eye, on a summer day-early summer, with spent tree blossoms raining down on a light breeze, and sunshine glancing from the metal grilles of the parked vans. Grandpa Flag dozing in his chair-the wind lifting the coarse ends of his graphite hair, but otherwise he would sit so still. He never said that much to us, but I always thought of him as kind, safe. He would slump, as if fast asleep, but then suddenly laugh at something that was said or done. A loud guffaw, booming from his chest. Always a battered hat, pulled low over his face; and in its shadow, dark eyes gleamed. Leathery cheeks, deeply scored. A lifetime outdoors had tanned him the color of hazelnuts. The color of Dinny’s arms in the summertime. They made him move, again and again. The police, in the days after it happened. Grandpa Flag watched them with his calm, penetrating gaze. They made everybody move their vans, time and time again, with a roar of engines and plumes of diesel smoke. One trailer, belonging to a man called Bernie, needed a tow to move it. Mickey and the other men put their shoulders to it, shifted it, did as they were told even though Bernie’s trailer was high enough from the ground to make looking underneath it easy. I asked Mum what they were looking for. Fresh earth, she told me shortly, and I didn’t understand.
A figure passing the door rouses me-Dinny, walking slowly. I run clumsily into the corridor.
“Dinny-what’s happened? Is everything OK?”
“Erica? What are you still doing here?” He looks dazed, battered and amazed to see me there.
“Well, I… I was waiting to hear. And I thought you’d want a ride back.”
“I thought you’d have gone-you needn’t have waited all this time! I can take the bus back…”
“It’s half past three.”
“Or a taxi then,” he amends, stubbornly.
“Dinny-will you tell me how Honey is? And the baby?”
“Fine, she’s fine,” he smiles. “The kid was upside down but she managed to do it, eventually. It’s a girl and she’s doing well.” His voice is rough, he sounds exhausted.
“That’s great! Congratulations, Uncle Dinny,” I say.
“Thanks,” he grins, a touch bashfully.
“So, how long do they have to stay in?”
“A couple of days. Honey lost a fair amount of blood and the baby’s a little jaundiced. They’re both fast asleep now.”
“You look shattered. Do you want a ride home?” I offer. Dinny rubs his eyes with his forefinger and thumb.
“Yes, please,” he nods.
The weather has not let up. I drive at a more cautious pace. The countryside is so black, empty. I feel as though we’re carving a tunnel through it, the only two people in the world. I am light-headed with fatigue but too tired for sleep. I have to concentrate hard on driving safely. I open my window a little; cold air hits me, flecks of rainwater. The roar of it fills the car, cloaks the weight of the silence between us.
“You never said Honey was your sister. I didn’t realize,” I say, not quite lightly.
“Who did you think she was?”
“Well… I thought she was… I don’t know…”
“You thought she was my girlfriend?” he asks incredulously, then laughs out loud. “Erica-she’s fifteen years old!”
“Well, I didn’t know that!” I say defensively. “What was I supposed to think? You didn’t have a sister the last time I saw you.”
“No, I didn’t. She was born well after you left. A late bonus, my mother called her.” He smiles slightly. “Now she’s not so sure.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’ve met her. Honey doesn’t have the easiest temperament.”
“So what happened? How come she’s been staying with you?”
“The baby. When she got pregnant Mum wanted her to get rid of it. She thought it would ruin her life, having a baby so young. Honey refused. So Mum said fine, have it adopted, and again she wouldn’t. They had a massive row and then Keith weighed in as well. So Honey flounced out and was told not to come back.” He sighs. “They’re just angry with each other, that’s all.”
“Keith’s your mum’s new husband?”
“They’re not married, but yes, to all intents and purposes. He’s OK. A bit strait-laced.”
“I can’t really imagine your mother with somebody strait-laced.”
“No, well, neither can Honey.”
“But Honey must be used to a more… conventional sort of life, mustn’t she?”
“She travelled with us until she was seven, when Dad died. I guess it got into her blood. She’s never really settled into the mainstream.”
“But now, with the baby… surely she can’t stay with you for ever?”
“No, she can’t,” he says firmly, and I glance across at him. He looks careworn, and the silence settles back into the car.
“What happened to the father?” I ask cautiously.
“What happened to him? Nothing, yet. That may change if I ever get my hands on him,” Dinny says grimly.
“Ah. He’s not been a knight in shining armor about it all, then?”
“He’s a twenty-year-old townie idiot who told Honey she couldn’t get pregnant on her first time.”
“That old chestnut.” I wince. “And twenty years old? He must have known he was lying…”
“Like I say, if I ever catch up with him… Honey won’t tell me his full name, or where he lives,” Dinny says, blackly.
I cast him a wry glance, smile slightly. “I wonder why,” I murmur. “Still, it must be a great way to raise a child-living the way you do. Travelling around, wherever you feel like. No mortgages, no nine-to-five, no juggling with childcare… The great outdoors, no keeping up with the Joneses…” I venture.
“It’s fine for the likes of me, but for a fifteen-year-old with a fatherless kid? She hasn’t even finished school yet,” he sighs. “No. She needs to go back home.”
I park in front of the house. The study light I left on blooms out, lighting the stark tree trunks nearest the house.
“Thanks, Erica. Thank you for driving us. You were really great with Honey, back there-you’ve been great,” Dinny says, reaching for the door handle.
“Why don’t you come in? Just to warm up. There’s brandy, and you could have a shower, if you want. You’re covered in mud,” I tell him. He looks at me, tips his head in that quizzical way.
“You’re offering me a shower?” he smiles.
“Or whatever. I could dig out a clean T-shirt for you,” I flounder.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Erica.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Dinny! It’s just a house. And you’re welcome in it, now. You’re not going to catch convention, just by using the plumbing.”
“I’m not sure how welcome I am. I came up to talk to Beth. She wouldn’t let me in,” he says quietly.
“I know,” I say, before I can stop myself. He shoots me a questioning glance. “I was listening. At the top of the stairs,” I say apologetically.
Dinny rolls his eyes. “Same old Erica.”
“So are you coming in now?” I smile. Dinny looks at me for a long moment, until I start to feel pinned; then he looks out at the hostile night.
“All right. Thanks,” he nods.
I lead Dinny through to the study. The fire has gone out but it’s still very warm. I go to draw the curtains.