Apple of My Eye (33 page)

‘No they won’t.’

‘Yes they will. They believe that bathing in human blood keeps their feathers white. I heard that on
Emergency Ward Ten
too.’

Her lips began to twitch. ‘Stop trying to make me laugh.’

‘Why? It’s easier than trying to make you think.’

She kicked more water at him, starting a battle that didn’t end until both were drenched.

Fifteen minutes later they entered Cobhams Milk Bar.

All the tables were full with boys and girls from Heathcote and other schools. Martin Phillips sat with Edward Wetherby, but his presence didn’t bother her, just as it didn’t seem to bother Ronnie.

They stood at the counter, watching the waitress prepare their ice-cream cones. As Ronnie paid for them a girl came to ask for change to put a record on the jukebox.

Then Edward Wetherby called out, ‘We’ve both had your girlfriend, Ronnie.’

The milk bar fell silent. People shifted in their seats, excited at the prospect of trouble. Susan’s eyes locked with Ronnie’s. He looked completely relaxed and she knew instinctively that whatever he did would be perfect.

Which it was. Without even turning, he replied in a voice clear enough to be heard by everyone: ‘I know. And I’d like to thank you for giving her, collectively, the best five seconds of her life.’

The place erupted in laughter. Edward turned crimson. Susan touched Ronnie on the arm. ‘Not five seconds, Ronnie,’ she said, again loud enough to be heard. ‘I told you it was more like seven.’ Then leaning forward, so her face and Edward’s were almost touching, she lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Just so we’re clear, if you fight with him I’ll fight with you.’ A quick nod in Martin’s direction. ‘And I’ll win.’

The laughter continued. She stood up, taking her ice cream from Ronnie.

‘Bring Jennifer at the weekend. Mum won’t mind. She loves children.’

‘OK.’

‘Good.’

They walked out of the milk bar, leaving Edward to his embarrassment.

Tuesday evening. Charles knocked on Ronnie’s bedroom door.

Ronnie sat at his desk studying a textbook. ‘Am I disturbing you?’ asked Charles.

Ronnie shook his head, gesturing to a chair next to the desk. His textbook showed rows of mathematical formulae. Charles shuddered. ‘Those look like hieroglyphics to me.’

‘Didn’t you like maths at school?’

‘I hated it. My teacher had a speech impediment so we never understood a word he said. How any of us passed the exam is God’s own mystery.’

‘My old French teacher was Viennese so we learned to speak French with an Austrian accent. It was so strong that when our class went to Paris no one there could understand it.’

They both laughed.

‘I didn’t know you’d been to Paris.’

‘I haven’t. Mum wanted me to go but couldn’t afford the trip.’

Dig.

‘She tells me we have guests this weekend.’

‘Is that all right? She said you were happy for me to invite friends over.’

‘More than happy.’ A pause. ‘Susan’s a beautiful girl.’

Ronnie nodded.

‘Do you like her a lot?’

‘Yes.’

‘You should take her to the pictures some time. Or to see a rock’n’roll group.’

Ronnie looked amused. ‘Which group would you recommend?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Cliff Richard and the Comets. The Everly Quintuplets.’

Ronnie laughed. Charles was pleased. ‘Seriously, Ronnie, if you want to take her somewhere but are strapped for money then let me know. I’d be happy to help out.’

‘That’s kind.’

‘Not at all. Anything to help the path of true love run smooth.’

‘But she’s not the sort of person who’d like someone just because they had money.’

Dig.

‘Well, the offer’s there if you need it.’

‘I know.’ Ronnie smiled. ‘Thanks.’

‘Is the lip hurting?’

‘No. Is Mum still worrying?’

‘A bit. But that’s a mother’s job. Actually, Ronnie, I’ve been thinking that her bedroom walls look bare. Why don’t we have some of your drawings framed so they could hang there?’

‘That’s a great idea.’

Again Charles was pleased. ‘We’ll have to pick some out. Say, half a dozen?’

‘I can do that. I know the ones she’ll like.’

Dig.

But was it really? Were any of them?

‘Of course. Let me know when you’ve chosen.’

‘I will.’

Silence. Charles tried to think of something to prolong the conversation. He wanted the two of them to be friends. To be close. He had always longed to be a father and knew from Anna that Ronnie had always
felt the absence of one. Now there was nothing to stop each fulfilling such a role for the other.

But only if Ronnie wanted it too.

He stared at the boy who faced him. This handsome, clever boy whose behaviour towards him was never less than gracious.

And who stared back at him with those barrier-like eyes.

What are you hiding, Ronnie? What’s going on inside you?

Who is the real Ronnie Sunshine?

He rose to his feet. ‘Better let you get back to your hieroglyphics.’

‘OK. Thanks again for the offer.’

‘My pleasure.’

Two minutes later he entered the living room.

Anna sat sewing name tags into Ronnie’s school shirts. ‘Where have you been?’ she asked.

‘Fetching my pipe and having a chat with Ronnie.’ He sat down beside her. The television was on. A comedian told mother-in-law jokes to shrieks of laughter from the studio audience. Soon it would be time for a drama series they both enjoyed.

‘How is he?’

Charles filled his pipe. ‘As well as a boy with maths homework can be.’

‘Do you think he’s being bullied?’

‘No. It was just a scuffle. My friends and I were always having them at school. If you think my face is a
mess now you should have seen it when I was Ronnie’s age.’

Silence. He had hoped for laughter or better still a gesture of affection. Instead she just sighed.

‘You mustn’t worry about him, darling. He’s tougher than you think.’

‘He’s never got into fights before.’

‘All boys have them occasionally. It’s part of growing up.’

‘If he got into fights I’d know about it. Ronnie doesn’t keep secrets from me.’

‘Which means he’d tell you if he were being bullied. If he hasn’t then he’s not.’ He gave her arm a squeeze. ‘So stop worrying.’

She continued to sew. He lit his pipe, breathing smoke into the air. Outside, the setting sun sent rays of red and gold across the surface of the river. ‘If the good weather lasts,’ he said, ‘we could have tea in the garden on Saturday. Jennifer could feed the swans.’

For the first time she smiled. ‘Is my cooking so bad she’d want to dispose of it?’

‘It’s inedible. Why do you think I’m putting on so much weight?’

‘I think I’ll stick to sandwiches and cake. The sort of things young children like to eat.’

‘And middle-aged men too. Shaming though it is to admit.’

She laughed. Again he squeezed her arm while the television comedian finished his routine to loud applause.

‘I’m glad he’s made a friend,’ she said eventually.

‘I think Ronnie would like her to be more than that.’

‘Do you?’

‘She’s very beautiful.’

‘Yes, I suppose she is.’

‘As are you.’

She ignored the compliment. ‘But Ronnie’s too young to be interested in girls.’

He’ll be sixteen next month. The same age you were when you met his father.

‘Anyway, he’d have told me if he felt anything for her. He tells me everything.’

‘Of course.’

‘We never have secrets. If he did keep something from me it would be trivial. Nothing that mattered or meant anything.’

He nodded. A strange thought crept into his head. As stealthy as a thief.

Who are you trying to convince, Anna? Me or yourself?

Do you think he’s hiding something too?

Her hand slipped, the needle puncturing her finger. She winced, looking suddenly like a wounded child. Love swept over him like a wave. He ached to put his arms around her and hold her close. To keep her safe from harm and pain.

But he couldn’t. Their marriage was about friendship, not romantic love. Separate bedrooms and no physical intimacy except for tiny gestures that amply displayed her fondness for him but could not begin to describe the world of emotion he felt for her.

Taking her wounded finger, he pressed it to his lips. ‘Does it hurt?’ he asked softly.

Her smile returned. ‘Not now it’s been kissed better.’

‘Good.’

‘Our programme starts in a few minutes. Shall I go and make some coffee?’

‘That would be lovely. Thank you, darling.’

On reaching the door she hesitated, then turned back.

‘I’ll just check on Ronnie. But I won’t be long so keep my seat warm.’

He did. But when the programme ended an hour later it was still empty.

Early evening on Thursday. Ronnie walked with Susan across Market Court.

His legs were aching. They had spent the late afternoon exploring the woods to the west of the town. Her knowledge of them was remarkable. She could navigate their paths almost blindfold and had shown him one, almost hidden by undergrowth, that led all the way to the river bank. ‘No one else uses it,’ she had told him. ‘I don’t think they know it’s here.’ He had found some wild flowers and she had helped him pick them for his mother.

They reached the corner of Queen Anne Square. ‘I’ll wait for you tomorrow,’ he said.

‘Don’t you ever get tired of hanging around on street corners?’

‘No. It’s in my blood. I must be descended from housebreakers.’

She laughed. Someone called her name. A tall, plumpish man approached them wearing an expensive suit and a genial expression. ‘Hello, Susie. Have you been walking?’

‘Yes, Uncle Andrew.’

‘And who can blame you on such a lovely afternoon.’

Ronnie held out his hand. ‘I’m Ronnie Sidney.’

The man smiled at him. ‘And I’m Andrew Bishop, Susie’s stepfather.’ The handshake was firm and friendly. ‘Sidney, eh? You’re not Mrs Pembroke’s son, are you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, welcome to Kendleton. How are you enjoying life here?’

‘Very much. Mum said it was beautiful but her letters didn’t do it justice.’

‘Has Susie been showing you the sights?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then I’ll know who to blame when her homework suffers.’ Mr Bishop laughed affably.

Ronnie turned to Susan, relieved that his first meeting with a member of her family seemed to be going well. She smiled at him, looking just as she always did.

But something about her was different.

He knew it instinctively. A change he couldn’t see so much as feel. Her physical presence was diminished. The aura of invulnerability reduced. This girl who had more courage than anyone he’d ever met. Who wasn’t afraid of anyone.

But she’s afraid of him.

‘Are those flowers for your mother?’ asked Mr Bishop.

‘Yes, provided they haven’t died before I get them home.’ He laughed too, giving no indication that he had noticed anything. ‘Actually Mum’s invited Susie and Jennifer to come for tea on Saturday.’

‘How kind of her.’ Mr Bishop beamed at Susan. ‘What a lovely treat for Jenjen.’

Susan nodded. ‘Yes, she’ll really enjoy it.’ She was still smiling and her voice was steady but her body discharged tension like electric waves. Particularly when the abbreviation of Jennifer’s name was used.

‘We’d better get home,’ said Mr Bishop. ‘Susie’s mother gets very cross if we’re late for tea.’ He grinned at Susan. ‘Doesn’t she, Susie?’

‘Yes, Uncle Andrew. ’Bye, Ronnie.’

‘’Bye, Susie. Goodbye, Mr Bishop. It was nice to meet you.’

‘And you, Ronnie. See you again soon, I hope.’

They walked away. Mr Bishop turned and gave him a wave.

Why is she afraid? What have you done to make her afraid?

Still smiling, he waved back.

Saturday afternoon. Charles sat in the garden with Anna, Ronnie and their guests.

They had an extra guest that afternoon: Mary Norris, widow of his friend Dr Henry Norris who had
died of a stroke the previous winter. He and Henry had been undergraduates together and Mary had an open invitation to visit whenever she wanted.

It was proving a lively gathering. Jennifer was treating them to a medley of songs she had learned at school. A spirited performance of ‘Land of the Buffalo’ had just been eclipsed by an even more passionate rendition of ‘Little Donkey’.

‘Now I’m going to sing “My Old Man Said Follow the Van”,’ she announced.

‘That’s enough singing for now, Jenjen,’ said Susan quickly.

‘No it’s not. Mrs Boyd said I sang it best in the class.’

‘And I’d love to hear it,’ added Mary.

‘See.’ Jennifer gave Susan a meaningful look then once again burst into song. Charles, fighting an urge to laugh, noticed Mary’s lips also twitching. He caught her eye across the table and gave her a grin.

The table was laden with food. Sandwiches, crisps and an assortment of buns and cakes, all of which Anna had made herself. Jennifer, stopped singing mid-verse, gulped down some lemonade, gave a contented sigh and started up again. Charles’s need to laugh increased. Biting down on his lip, he watched swans land on the water and swim towards the bank. Though the sun was bright there was a nip in the air, warning that autumn was finally on the way.

At last Jennifer finished. ‘That really is enough now, Jenjen,’ said Susan firmly.

‘But it was a lovely treat,’ Mary told her. ‘You sing very well.’

‘Thank you.’ Jennifer gave her a dazzling smile, then turned to Charles and gave him one too. Something she had been doing on a regular basis since her arrival. He smiled back, careful to keep the damaged side of his face from view.

‘Would you like some chocolate cake, Jennifer?’ asked Anna.

‘Yes please.’

‘Would you like to be a singer when you grow up?’ asked Mary.

Jennifer nodded. ‘Or a cowboy. I know a song about cowboys.’

‘Which you’re
not
going to sing,’ Susan told her.

Jennifer looked indignant. ‘Why don’t you sing it to us after tea?’ suggested Mary, and was rewarded with another dazzling smile. As was Charles, though he wasn’t sure why.