Riley, page 13
‘Go on with you.’
Standing aside, Riley saw his father’s beaming face, his hand flapping towards the nurse. He had never seen this man so happy: his mental picture of him back down the years was of a miserable little fella. And yet he could recall walking with this man across the fells. It would be on a Sunday, and there would always be a surprise from his dad’s pocket, a bar of chocolate, a Mars bar, or some humbugs, always something. But the walks had stopped when, at eleven, he had moved to the comprehensive. ‘You married?’ the nurse interrupted those recollections.
‘Me married? No, no.’
‘Oh, then there’s still hope, I’m only thirty-eight. Well, you’d have to know the truth sooner or later, forty-three; but off duty and with a bit of war paint on I’m a teenager. Eeh!’ The laughter suddenly went from her face and she turned quickly to the bed and said, ‘Is there anything you require, Mr Riley?’ and her voice dropping several tones, she added, ‘The Sister’s just come on duty. Here we go!’
As she passed Riley her expression was still blank, but she winked at him.
Seated by the bed again, Riley said to his father, ‘She’s a card.’
‘Aye, lad, she is a card, and a good ’un. She’s lovely. As to age, she’s forty-four, and she’s been married and widowed and has brought up three bairns. We have a crack now and again. She was on nights the last time I was in, and when the going was rough she would sit by me and wipe my face with a flannel. You know something, Peter? For the first time in me life I was able to talk to a woman, I mean really talk about life and things. And you know, I’m only a year older than her, forty-five. And she’s made me think along the lines that there’s more fish in the sea than there’s ever been caught; and it’s funny too, how a lot of women take to small men. You know, you get tired of being nagged and looked down on. For years now I’ve been made to feel useless.’ His hand came out again and gripped Riley’s. ‘Will you be able to come in the morrer?’
‘Oh yes, yes, I’m not going back till Sunday.’
Some time later, when he was about to leave, Riley said, ‘Is there anything I can bring you, Dad? Mr Beardsley said you’re not allowed to smoke in here.’
‘No, that’s right. But it’s funny, I’ve gone off them since the op, and I’m going to keep it up; but I’ll tell you what I like, lad, those chocolate walnut whirls, you know?’
‘Oh yes, I know, Dad. All right, you shall have a box tomorrow. Now is there anything else?’
‘No, no, nothing else, lad; only let me say this, I’m very proud of you and I’m glad we can talk, you and me. You know what I mean? And I want to thank you for those bits of paper you put in your letters; they’re a godsend.’
‘That’s all right, Dad.’ And Riley bent over his father and they gripped hands again.
He was smiling as he walked through the hospital gates.
It had just turned seven o’clock. He had had the questionable pleasure of bathing Jason and, as Louise remarked, it was also questionable who was the wetter after the routine.
He had the further pleasure of reading a bedtime story to the young man, and being continually interrupted with the question why: Why was Jack the Giant Killer so big and Tom Thumb so small?
‘Because they were different stories.’
‘Why?’
Some time later, in the sitting room, he looked at Fred unsmilingly and said, ‘No-one would need to ask who that fella’—jerking his head upwards—‘takes after. He never stops talking.’
As Fred was about to answer this in his usual pithy way the phone rang and he stuck a finger in Riley’s chest, saying, ‘I’ll answer that statement at some length when I come back.’ And Louise, smiling, said, ‘I’ve told him, Riley, that a blind identification panel could prove the relationship.’
They both turned and looked towards the door as Fred came hurrying back into the room, saying, ‘That was Nyrene’s cousin Ivy, Mrs Wakefield. She’s been trying to get Nyrene since late this afternoon. It appears that Charles is rather ill, very ill by the sound of it, after a heart attack.’
‘Where could she be?’ Louise looked from one to the other. ‘I know she’s not working this week, but to be out all day.’
‘If she is out. Perhaps she’s stuck in there not answering the phone.’
‘Why would she do that?’
‘Don’t be silly, woman! After what happened yesterday between this one’—he jerked his head towards Riley—‘and her, she’s likely still feeling sore.’
‘Don’t you be silly, too. And she’s not a silly girl, either. She was likely mad at the time, but she’s got over that; we all have to get over such things, Mr Beardsley.’
‘Oh dear, dear.’ He shook his head. ‘Anyway, what should we do?’
‘I’ll go along and see if she’s really in.’
‘You?’
‘Yes, me!’ Riley’s voice came out almost on a shout. ‘And if she’s in I’ll apologise in the only way I know how.’
‘If she knows what’s happened she won’t have time to listen to you. Anyway, I’ll go along with you,’ Fred said.
‘Well, that’s sensible.’ Fred turned towards his wife, a half-smile on his face, as he said, ‘And I’ll deal with you when I come back.’
Riley noted that the path was now strewn with may blossom for there had been a strong wind in the night, and the scent of the may was almost overpowering as he watched Fred ring the bell. It was the smell he would never forget, the smell of may; it would always be associated with a pregnant woman.
After his third ringing of the bell, Fred turned to Riley, saying, ‘We’d better go round the back way and look through the windows. The curtains are drawn there.’ He pointed to the side.
They had just reached the gate when a taxi drew up to the kerb, and to their amazement out stepped Nyrene, carrying two mauve-coloured bags with the name of the shop printed in deep black letters across them. They watched her put the bags on the pavement, pay the taxi-driver, bid him goodnight, then turn towards them. Taking them both in her glance, she said, ‘Is this in the form of an honour or a deputation?’
‘We’ve been worried. No-one could get in touch with you. A phone message came through from your cousin.’
He was taking the bags from her as she said, ‘What about? What about? Charles?’
‘Yes. That’s what she said, Charles. Come on, get in the house first.’ He pressed her through the gate, and when they were all in the hall she turned to him and asked sharply, ‘What did she say about him?’
‘He’s not very well. He’s had a heart attack. I…I think she wants you to go there straight away.’
‘Oh my. When did this happen?’
‘I…I’m not sure. Some time today, it seems. She’s been trying to get you since late on this afternoon.’
Nyrene put her hand to her head and bit on her lip. Again she looked from one to the other, then as if to herself she said, ‘Oh dear, dear.’ Then turning from them and running towards the stairs, she was about to mount them when she stopped and, looking back to Fred, she said, ‘There’s a train goes to Aberdeen somewhere around nine, I think. Could you ring the station and find out, Fred, please? I’ll just pack a few things.’
‘Well, don’t rush yourself. If it doesn’t go till nine there’s plenty of time. Now don’t rush.’
Nyrene paid little heed to these words and ran up the stairs as if she were carrying no weight other than that of her own body.
‘Ask her if she would like a cup of tea made.’
‘What?’
Riley poked his head close to Fred’s, and repeated, ‘Ask her if she would like a cup of tea made. She’d take it from you better than from me.’
Fred pushed Riley in the chest; then going to the bottom of the stairs, he shouted, ‘Nyrene! Can you hear me? Would you like a cup of tea?’
After a moment her voice answered him, saying, ‘Yes. Yes, please, Fred. I could do with one.’
On hearing this, Riley went into the kitchen and set about making a pot of tea, and it was ready on the table when Nyrene entered the room wearing a different coat and shoes. Fred greeted her with, ‘There’s an InterCity to Aberdeen at eight forty-five. That gives you nearly an hour, and it’s only a ten-minute drive to the station, so sit down and have this drink. Do you want anything to eat?’
‘No. No, I just had a meal in town.’ And she smiled wearily as she added, ‘It’s harder work shopping than acting; I’ll be glad of the train journey.’
‘Have you very far to go after you reach Aberdeen?’
‘About eight miles, on the way to Banchory. I can get a taxi.’
‘Has he had a heart attack before?’
She was sipping her tea and she didn’t answer for a moment; but then she said, ‘Well, not that I know of.’
‘Did you know he was in Scotland?’
She paused again before saying, ‘Oh yes, yes, I knew he was there. Oh.’ She suddenly rose from the table, a hand patting her chin now as she said, ‘I’d better phone David…what time is it?’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Oh, he’ll be in the midst of it.’
‘I can slip round and tell him,’ said Fred.
‘Would you, Fred?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Thank you. Would you tell him I’ll phone from there tomorrow? Say I don’t know how long I may have to stay.’
‘Are you on next week?’
This question came from Fred and she said, ‘Yes, but in a very small part. They’ll be able to fit someone into that. The week following will be more difficult because I’m playing myself, a pregnant woman.’
Riley turned away towards the stove to refill the teapot, asking himself why his stomach should react as if from a blow every time he heard her refer to her condition. He listened to her now exclaiming, ‘Oh, I’ll have to inform the police. I always do when I’m away for any short time. They ask you to, you know.’
‘Sit yourself down again and leave that to me, I’ll do it now,’ said Fred.
Riley did not turn round from the stove until he knew Fred had left the room, then he went swiftly to the table and, looking across at her where she was sitting with one hand supporting her face, her elbow on the table, he said hurriedly, ‘I…I’ve got to bring it up, Nyrene. I’m sorry, deeply, deeply sorry I upset you. It’s the last thing in the world I would want to do. You know that. Forgive me, please. I’ll not know any peace until you say you’ve forgotten it.’
Her hand came down from her face and she held it out towards him, and as he gripped it tightly she said, ‘Don’t worry, we all say things we shouldn’t; we all get mad about nothing at all. I’m sorry too, and I’ve forgotten it.’
‘Oh, Nyrene! Nyrene.’
‘Now, now. Remember our parts’—she smiled widely at him—‘the budding actor and his mentor.’
He shook his head violently as if dismissing such a description of their association; then quietly, he asked, ‘May I write to you?’
‘Yes, if you wish. But…well you know the circumstances.’
‘Yes, I’m aware of the circumstances,’ he said, ‘very much so.’
When Fred’s voice saying, ‘Thank you. Thank you,’ came to him he quickly let go of her hand.
Fred was laughing when he came back into the kitchen, saying, ‘Give them their due, they’re always polite on the phone, so why can’t they be like that when they stop you for speeding or for parking on a yellow line?’
Nyrene looked up at him. ‘Of course you would answer them gently, wouldn’t you, Fred?’ she said.
‘Now, now, Nyrene, I’ve got one at home like that. Have a heart. Anyway, the time’s getting on. Are you all locked up, I mean all the doors, windows?’
‘Yes, and I always close the curtains.’
‘Well, I don’t know whether that’s a good thing.’
The train was in the station and time was taken up walking through the carriages trying to find Nyrene a comfortable seat near a window. This done, there was still time for small talk; but they were all relieved when the whistle blew. As the train moved, Riley left Fred and walked alongside the window, and Fred’s eyebrows lifted when he saw Riley’s hand reach up to the window as if he were touching her.
Slowly Riley walked back towards Fred, and when they met no words were exchanged, but their glances were held for some time.
Later that night, in the bedroom, Fred continued his questioning of Riley’s behaviour: ‘Why,’ he again put to Louise, ‘should Riley walk alongside the train and act as he did?’ He was no longer a lad. He’d always said he never had been; but now it was as though he were a fully-fledged man, not some callow youth who had a pash on his teacher or some older woman.
‘That’s the point, isn’t it?’ he almost demanded as he addressed Louise.
She was sitting up in bed, a book open on her knees, looking at him standing in his pyjama trousers.
When he kicked off his slippers he did not immediately get into bed, but sat on the edge and leant forward, dropping his hands between his knees and, more to himself than to her, he said, ‘Every movement, every look was the act of a lover. And she was aware of this, I knew she was. And the way she said to him “Goodbye, Riley,” just before the train left, something in her voice seemed to suggest a deeper relationship. But she’s having a child by this other fellow. And that’s another thing, none of us have clapped eyes on him. We don’t even know if he exists.’
‘Don’t be silly, dear; I’ve told you he exists all right, I’ve spoken to him.’
‘Oh aye.’ He turned towards her; then sighing deeply, he climbed into bed, and when he pushed himself close to her she put an arm around his shoulders and said, ‘What could there be between them, dear? She must be nearly twenty years older.’
‘I’m years older than you.’
‘We’ve been through this before, haven’t we? It’s different with a man.’
Again he sighed deeply before saying, ‘I wish I could get to the bottom of it; I hate mysteries and there’s a mystery there all right, something funny, something fishy. I can smell it.’
‘Darling, even the word fish has the power to make me retch. You know it has.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, love. I’m sorry.’ He pulled her into his arms, saying, ‘I must be up the pole. Why do I worry about anything or anybody except you because there’s only you and the child in my life, nobody else, nobody else.’
As he snuggled up beside her, she thought whimsically: Just you, and the child, and all the children at school, and of course Riley. And so concerned was he that everything should go right for Riley that he was puzzled about the association; and she was too. Oh yes. In a way, she was more puzzled than he was because she had her own ideas of what was between Nyrene and Riley, ideas which her mind kept refuting. Anyway, it would all work out, she thought; just as her own life had done.
It was a quarter to four on the Sunday when the phone rang. It was Ivy’s husband Ken. He said he was distressed to tell them that they had lost Charles. That’s how he put it, they had lost Charles. He had died at ten o’clock that morning. Nyrene had sat up with him all night and was with him when he passed away. He said they had been so very fond of each other, and what was more Charles had been his wife’s and his best friend for many years. He said that Nyrene had fallen into an exhausted sleep and they didn’t want to wake her, but she had indicated that they would like to know what was happening. She herself would likely phone them tomorrow, but she would be staying for the funeral.
Then he said something that to them was quite natural: apparently, Charles’s last regret was that he wouldn’t see the baby. But he had ended in a rather puzzling way, adding that anyway she would never need to work again. He had always said that the house was hers and all that was his was hers too, seeing that he had never been married.
Fred had tried to relate the conversation to Louise and Riley as he had heard it.
They had all remained silent until Louise said, ‘I…I think she must have known him for a long time and they had only recently got together again.’
‘Did she ever say how old he was?’
Louise looked at Fred and shook her head. ‘No, not really,’ she said, ‘but I seemed to get the impression that he was quite a bit older than her, fiftyish perhaps, and I also got the impression that she had known him for a long time; that he was a family friend; but I had assumed he had been married and had lost his wife, and that’s why they had come…well, together.’
Riley had made no response and Fred said, ‘Well, Riley, what’s your opinion? What do you think?’
Were Riley to tell them what his thoughts really were at this moment, they would be shocked, because he would have said, I’m glad the fella’s dead. And what’s more, he didn’t feel bad thinking this way. What he did was to lower his head and mutter, ‘I don’t know what to think,’ and only just stopped himself from adding, She’s going to have a child but she’s free again.
He turned from them and walked to the fireplace and looked down on the artificial log fire.
Fred said, ‘Your train goes around six, you said, didn’t you?’
He turned and said, ‘Yes, five past.’
‘Then we’d better have a bite now.’
‘Oh, look, I had a huge lunch; I couldn’t eat anything now, I can assure you.’
‘You’re not going to get very much, so don’t worry.’ And Louise bounced her head towards him. ‘You’ll have a cup of tea and a bun.’
‘Suits me, madam. Suits me.’ And when Riley smiled at her, she tossed her head and flounced round like a young girl in a huff, saying, ‘I’m tired of slaving after unappreciative males.’
‘Unappreciative males indeed!’ Fred went into one of his huffing and puffing acts, which didn’t deceive Riley at all for he knew quite well they would have liked to face him with the question, What is going on between you two? and he wondered how they would react were he to say, I am under the impression and have been for months that I slept with a woman and made passionate love to her and she to me for hours on end, and when I woke up to a glorious day it was to find only that her mind was blank about the whole occasion: she had been drunk during it all; or, at least, she had made out she was. What would they think of that? One thing he was sure of: they wouldn’t believe him about the glorious lovemaking, for what could he know about such things? In their eyes he felt he was still a lad. They would put it down to his fantasies. Yet what about her fantasies? For at about the same time she must have been with him…that Charles fellow who had just died.
