‘I’ve been right here. Why d’you want to know?’
A sheepish smile was Vicky’s apology and she fixed her eyes on the cigarette packet rotating idly in his hands. ‘I wouldn’t mind a fag.’
Robert offered her the cigarettes and once she’d taken one and he’d lit it, he started towards the pub. Vicky quickly slipped her arm through his and the newly married couple followed, locked in an embrace that made them stumble and giggle. Stevie swung his new bride into his arms and carried her wriggling over the threshold.
‘That’s you two sorted out for later. That’s my boys.’ The growling voice erupted in a lascivious chuckle.
Robert glanced over his shoulder to see a couple, half shadowed by a high wall, watching them.
‘Piss off, mate. Private party.’ Robert had already ejected several gatecrashers from the reception. The chance of a free feed and unlimited booze was too hard to resist for most people who lived around Campbell Road and struggled to put a plate of chips on the table. Once news of the wedding had got around, half of The Bunk’s inhabitants had been angling for invitations to the reception.
‘That’s no way to speak to yer old dad, Bobbie.’
It was a moment before Robert pivoted about. Only a few people called him Bobbie now. Family, mostly.
‘Remember me?’
Now the ribaldry was gone, Robert realised the voice was the same even if the man in front of him looked to be a pale imitation of his former self.
The father he remembered had been a muscled fellow with a dark head of hair and a lean face. The man sauntering towards them looked to have shrivelled in height and ballooned in weight. He appeared, too, to be fair-headed but was, Robert realised, almost completely grey. But his eyes, dark and sharp, were the same, pinning him down, still no escape.
For a moment Robert felt rooted to the spot, trapped in his brother’s nightmare of last night. He licked his parched lips and shot a look at his brother. Stevie was gawping at him, slack-jawed, waiting for reassurance that it was just a phantom and everything was going to be all right.
‘Go back inside.’ It was a hoarse murmur as Robert disentangled his arm from Vicky’s clutch and gave the middle of her back a little push to hurry her on her way.
She tottered forward with a mew of indignation.
‘Go inside, Pam,’ Robert ordered his sister-in-law, his voice strengthening.
She looked mutinous, but Stevie dropped her quickly to her feet, where she landed in an ungainly hobble. He nodded vigorously at her to do as she’d been told. His obvious agitation prompted her to obey, albeit with a sullen expression.
‘What the fuck d’you want?’ Robert spat through his teeth as soon as the two young women had disappeared into the pub.
‘We thought you died in the war. We thought you was dead.’ Stevie’s words emerged in a strange, high-pitched whine.
‘Ain’t dead, son.’
It had been said in that gentle way Jimmy had that had always set Rob’s teeth on edge. His crooning voice had been as deceitful as everything else about him. Robert took a step forward to put himself between his father and his brother.
‘Just some real bad things was goin’ on at the time and I had to get away,’ Jimmy continued in his dreary drawl. ‘Best thing for everyone, you see, for me to disappear fer a while.’
‘Best thing now ’n’ all,’ Robert ejected through his teeth. ‘So get goin’ ’n’ don’t ever come back. There’s nothing here for you. D’you understand? Nothing.’
‘That ain’t nice, Bobbie.’ Jimmy sounded plaintive. ‘I come to wish me son all the best for his future happiness, ain’t I?’
‘How d’you know I was getting wed?’ Stevie had recovered a little from his shock. Although he was visibly shaking, he had a few questions ready. He grabbed the cigarettes from Rob and fumbled to get one lit then dragged deeply on it. ‘You been spyin’ on me? How d’you know anything about me now?’
‘Just ’cos I ain’t been around, don’t mean I ain’t been keepin’ a watchful eye on yers. You’re me flesh ’n’ blood.’
Robert threw back his head and roared out a vicious laugh. He took a menacing pace forward, stopping Jimmy from coming any closer to his brother. Their father had been edging forward one step at a time and Robert knew it was his intention to win them over with his wonky smile and weasel words. When they were kids it might have worked; just as a whipping with a belt had worked. But it was different now.
‘This ain’t the time fer none of yer lies,’ Robert enunciated through stretched lips. ‘If you care about Steve’s future happiness you’ll fuck off now and stay away from all of us.’ He jabbed a finger close to Jimmy’s chin. Now he was within striking distance he could see what the dusk had disguised. One side of his father’s face now had a slightly concave shape as though, at some time during the last decade, his cheekbone had been smashed. ‘So get going or there’s gonna be blood ’n’ guts all over the place.’ Robert leaned forward. ‘We ain’t scared of you now. You’re nothing to us and we ain’t interested in any of yer threats or promises …’
‘Bobbie … hang on … let’s hear where he’s been …’ Stephen had reverted to using his childhood name, something he hadn’t done in many years. Robert knew that hearing Jimmy use it had prompted him to do so and it enraged him. He swung about and glared at his brother.
‘You’re not wanted here.’ Robert sent that over a shoulder at his father as he gripped Stephen’s arm and shoved him towards the pub.
‘We goin’ in fer a drink, Jim? Could do with a drink, Jim.’ The woman who’d been lurking quietly by the kerb took a pace forward. Her short, skinny body had easily been overlooked in the shadowy gloom. But now she nervously approached. Edie Greaves had need of a drink and Jimmy had promised her he knew of a place where they could go this evening and get treated handsomely for free. In fact, he’d been promising her many good things would come their way once they got to Islington. In Edie’s eyes, the only benefit so far had been in managing to abscond and leave a pile of debts behind in Kent.
Robert turned back just in time to note the change in his father’s attitude. He recognised the look gripping Jimmy’s sagging face and it turned his guts. Jimmy sorely wanted to tell the woman to shut up or, as he’d frequently done with their mother, stop her complaints with his fist. But he couldn’t because he was putting on an act for them all. The prodigal father had come to give his blessing to his son’s marriage. Like fuck! Robert knew that if this miserable, cowardly excuse for a man had come to find them it was because he wanted something very badly. The crafty bastard had probably already made it his business to find out that Stephen had nothing to offer, so Robert knew it was him he was after. Somehow, Jimmy Wild had discovered he’d done all right for himself and had come back to Islington to see what was in it for him.
‘What’s goin’ on?’ Matilda Keiver came bursting out of the pub trailing people in her wake. ‘Pam said there’s a feller being a nuisance. Want him shifted, Rob?’ The crowd behind her chortled and encouraged her playful belligerence. Everyone knew Tilly Keiver wasn’t frightened of a fight. If a bloke needed a slap, she was the one to give it to him. And he’d come off worst. Her nephews knew her reputation too, and would usually have laughed along with the others.
But they didn’t; and after a moment it penetrated Matilda’s booze-fuddled brain that something wasn’t right. She marched forward, whiskey glass in hand, squinting into the dusk to see who was causing a ruckus at her nephew’s big day. After their mum had died, and when they were just starting out fending for themselves as young teenagers, Tilly had done what she could to help Rob and Steve even though money was tight for her too as a war widow.