Ravens Gathering (12 page)

Fifteen years can make a difference, but not in all
ways.  His mother looked older, more like seventy than sixty.  Grey
hair where it had once been blonde.  Shorter too, so there was no hiding
place for the crows feet or the sagging flesh around her neck.  Her dress
sense did nothing to help.  Martin thought he even recognised the cardigan
she was wearing.

Surprisingly, his sister Janet didn’t look much
younger.  She was only a few years older than Martin, but she could have
passed for his mother with only a minor stretch of the imagination.  The
hair was still blonde, but it hung lifelessly just above her shoulders. 
Her face told a story of long hard hours and little prospect of respite. 
She wore jeans and a shirt that looked as if they may have been in fashion, but
on her they were shapeless.  It was no wonder she was still living with
their parents.  He couldn’t imagine she had the get up and go to strike
out on her own, and looking as she did it seemed unlikely she’d have her pick
of men.

The house hadn’t changed much, though.  The same TV
stood in the corner by the window.  The window itself was covered by the
thick red velvet curtains he had hidden behind as a child, oblivious of the
fact that his feet were sticking out where Matthew and Janet could see
them.  It seemed as if it had taken him years to realise why they found
him so quickly.  Strange, the memories that came back to him now.

Like sitting on his mum’s knee in the big armchair where his
dad was now.  He didn’t know how old he had been, but he guessed no more
than two or three.  Just a phase they had gone through.  Enjoying the
warmth of the fire as they watched
Andy
Pandy
and
Pogles
Wood
on the tiny black and white
TV set they’d rented.

He suspected the carpet was different, but it was difficult
to tell in the dim light.  The fact the room was cramped, with furniture
covering most of the floor, didn’t help much either.  Although he couldn’t
identify any new items, he didn’t remember it being so crowded in here. 
Then again, most of his memories were from his childhood, when he was smaller
and the whole world seemed like a much bigger place.

Or maybe it wasn’t just the physical confines that made him
feel like this.  There was an almost palpable hostility.  Not from
all of them.  Colin was clearly delighted to see him, although Martin
couldn’t for the life of him think why.  He’d only been nine when Martin
left, and that was in physical terms.  Mentally, he’d been barely an
infant.  It was a wonder the lad could remember his older brother at all.

When he had opened the door, Matthew had looked
annoyed.  He didn’t say anything, but it was clear he wasn’t happy that
Martin had turned up.  His dad looked much the same when he came into the
living room.  He guessed the fact that he was late had made them hope he
wasn’t going to come.  He didn’t sense quite the same from his mum or
Janet.  They were more wary than unfriendly.  Regardless, it was
uncomfortable.

Colin had been sitting on the floor in front of the TV, legs
crossed like a six year old.  When he saw Martin, he jumped to his feet
and rushed over.

“Martin!  Martin!”  His excitement reminded Martin
of his own behaviour as a small child.  He looked at Patrick, the big man
watching him carefully.  It was hard to believe that he had worshipped
this man.  He had known instinctively when it was time for his dad to come
home from work, and would watch from the kitchen window.  As soon as he
walked through the gate into the back yard, Martin would dash outside and run
into Patrick’s waiting arms.  Good times.  Long gone.

Clutching Martin’s arm, Colin pulled him across the room to
the table.  It was pushed against the back wall, but there were four dark
wooden chairs around it.  Janet was already sitting at one of them. 
It had its back to the wall and was facing into the room.  Martin was
conscious of her drawing back as he came closer.  Although it was tempting
to add to Janet’s discomfort by picking the nearest chair to her, he realised
that would be unnecessarily confrontational.  It wasn’t time yet.  He
steered Colin to another chair, which was on the opposite side of the table,
then sat down.  Colin sat down on the floor next to him, his eyes fixed on
his face.

Ignoring his younger brother, Martin looked at his
family.  Matthew had remained leaning against the door that led back out
to the hall and stairs.  His dad’s chair was angled for watching the TV,
so he was sitting at an awkward angle, almost wedged into a corner of the chair
as he looked across his right shoulder to see his middle son.  A
two-seater sofa was pushed against the wall opposite the fire, and his mum was
sitting at the far end of that.  He could see that she was relieved he
hadn’t come to join her.  Not that Colin had given him a choice. 
Still, he suspected he would have played it safe anyway.  It was a small
room, but they had managed to space themselves out as much as possible. 
Martin didn’t kid himself that this was going to be the warmest of family
reunions.

In all honesty, he couldn’t say he’d been looking forward to
this meeting.  He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but he also knew they needed
to talk.  The main difficulty was knowing what needed saying.  But it
was also hard to know who he should talk to first.  In one sense, the
easiest option was to talk to the only person who was pleased to see him. 
Unfortunately, Colin didn’t strike him as having much capacity for
conversation.  He did offer a way in though.

Martin rested a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, a
gesture that made Colin sit up straighter and smile more broadly.  “I
can’t believe how grown up you are.”  His gaze switched between his
parents as he spoke.  At that moment, he wasn’t too concerned about their
effect on his brother. 

“He was only nine when you left,” Patrick pointed out.

“True, but he...”  Martin hesitated.

Patrick glanced at his youngest son’s oblivious smile. 
“He’s done well,” he conceded, “all things considered.”

“Still needs some looking after, though.”  He didn’t
even attempt to make it sound like a question.

“If you’re talking about what happened in
The Oak
,
well...”  He looked across at his wife.  “We do our best, but
sometimes it’s just not enough.  You can’t protect your children forever.”

Martin decided to keep his thoughts on that subject to
himself for now.  “How does he get on at work?”

“He doesn’t.”  Matthew had clearly decided he needed to
be included.

“Must be a strain.”

“We manage.”

“I suppose it helps that you work in the village.”

For a moment, Matthew’s lips tightened.  “It helps,
yes.”  There was an edge to his words that left Martin wondering.

“How is the work up at the farm?”

“It’s work.”  Matthew shrugged.

“It’s funny, I always got the impression you’d want to move
away.  When I came back I half expected to find out you were working down
south, or even abroad.”  Martin made the comments lightly, but they
prompted the response he was looking for: tight lips again.

“Sometimes life doesn’t turn out the way you expect,”
Matthew said carefully.  “But that has nothing to do with Colin.” 
The last remark was unnecessary – which said plenty.

Rather than pick up on it, Martin turned to his mother.
 “And you’re working too now?”

Anne’s eyes were reminiscent of those of a rabbit caught in
headlights.  She stared back at him for several uncomfortable
seconds.  It was tempting to help her out and start talking just to fill
the silence, but Martin resisted.

Finally, she gave a slow nod.  “That’s right.”

The idea of his mother working still seemed alien to
him.  Throughout his childhood, she had been at home, looking after the
children and making sure the house was clean and tidy, and that food was on the
table when it should be.  Even though that had been more the norm in the
sixties, and attitudes had changed during the seventies and eighties, he still
couldn’t imagine his father wanting his wife at work.  He had no doubt
that they must be facing hard times financially if he was prepared to let her
go.  Which didn’t make sense.  Even without his mum working, there
were three others who were out at work and bringing money into the household.

“Where are you working?”

“Griffin’s,” she said.  There was no hesitation this
time.  Perhaps she was getting into her stride.  He decided he’d try
to keep things easy for now.

Shaking his head, he said: “Never heard of them.  Are
they a new company?”

A quick glance at Patrick before she answered.  Martin
didn’t see his reaction, but assumed he must have indicated that it was okay to
carry on.

“I think they’ve been around for about ten years or
so.  Since you...”  She faltered for a moment, dropping her
eyes.  The recovery was relatively quick though.  “They started up
after you left.  That’s why you won’t have heard of them.”

Martin nodded his understanding, turning to his sister as he
did so.  “And you’re there too, I gather.”

The sudden shift of focus was intentional and had the
desired rabbit and headlight effect.  Janet’s mouth repeatedly opened and
closed as he smiled at her patiently.  No sound came from it for several
moments, and again he had to restrain himself from sparing her the awkwardness.

Eventually either the Gates genes or instinctive mimicry
kicked in as she nodded and said: “That’s right,” her tone identical to her
mother’s.

“What do Griffin’s do?”  He kept his attention on Janet
for now.

“They’re a wholesalers.”

“Do they wholesale anything in particular?”

“All kinds of things really.  Clothing mainly, but
there’re other things too.”  As with her mother, once she had started, the
responses came a little easier.

“And what do you do there?”

She shrugged dismissively.  “Nothing much.  Just
general help in the warehouse.  Packing cartons for shipping, unloading
new stock when it comes in, that kind of thing.”

Martin had to agree with her initial assessment: nothing
much.  So his sister’s income probably wasn’t fantastic, but it would
still be more than helpful when added to his dad’s and Matthew’s.

“Are you doing the same, Mum?”

Although Anne wasn’t caught out quite as much as last time,
he knew he still had her off-balance.  The pause was short, but there, and
the nod was jerky and awkward.  “
Er
...yes.”

“Must be nice to spend so much time together,” he commented.

Again a nod.  “It is.  Yes.”

“What about you, Dad?  Is it good to be working with
Matthew?”

Patrick was more prepared than his wife or daughter had
been.  He must have been watching the way Martin was playing with them,
because he appeared to be expecting a question.  Just not this one
particularly, though he could see where it was heading.

“I do, yes.  Matthew’s been very good to me and your
mum.  He’s given up a lot to help us with Colin.”  He gestured to his
youngest child, who beamed back at him when he heard his name.  “And he
supported us financially when I lost my job at the farm.”  He gazed
directly into Martin’s eyes, the challenge in them plain to see.  “I’m a
very lucky man.”

His words and their implications caught Martin out.  He
leaned back in his chair and adjusted himself as if he had become uncomfortable
and needed to change position on his seat.  He wasn’t sure how well he
covered himself.  He suspected not very well from the glances that passed
between Patrick and Matthew.

“I can see that you are,” he replied eventually.  He
let his gaze pass over everyone in the room.  There was a definite
closeness between them.  It was something he hadn’t experienced for a long
time.  And it was something he couldn’t imagine he was going to feel again
with these people.  There seemed little more to be gained by prolonging
this meeting.  He needed time to think now, to consider whether he should
pursue things with them or simply move on.

Standing up suddenly, he didn’t know whether to laugh or be
upset at the reactions from his family.  Both his mother and sister
flinched back, while his father and elder brother seemed to tense as if they
were preparing for a fight.  On the floor beside him, Colin simply looked
up at him in puzzlement.

“I’d better get on,” he said, tapping his watch.  “It’s
well past nine, and I’ve got a bit of a walk yet.”

“Walk?” Matthew asked suspiciously.

“Yes, I’m stopping up at the
McLeans
’
house.  And as it’s my first night there, I don’t want to be getting in
too late and disturbing them.”

“First night?”  Patrick’s expression made it clear that
he regretted the question as soon as it came out.

“Well, I don’t know how long I’ll be stopping, but Tanya and
Ian have said I can stay as long as I want.”  Which wasn’t true, but there
was no harm in giving them something else to gnaw on.  And from the looks
that passed between his parents and older siblings, it had the desired effect.

Question Time
had just started.  Tanya couldn’t
understand why Ian watched it at the best of times.  She had no interest
in politics, and bearing witness to a bunch of overgrown schoolchildren arguing
about things that seemed of little or no consequence to her was clearly a
pointless exercise.  And the mood Ian was in, she couldn’t see that he’d
be getting any benefit from it tonight.

She was allowing herself to be subjected to the programme
tonight for the simple reason that she wanted to be around when Martin came
back.  Under other circumstances, she would have made her excuses and gone
to bed.  That would allow her to, at the very least,
pretend
to be
asleep when Ian joined her.  Their sex life was pretty limited these days,
and her enthusiasm for it had long since disappeared.  They were in a rut
on that front, and her needs involved a lot more excitement.  Having to
endure Ian laying on top and going through the motions was almost less
attractive than watching Peter
Sissons
refereeing a
bunch of idiots who seemed to think they were demonstrating their intellect by
scoring points off each other.

Tonight, though, her curiosity about Martin was stronger
than her aversion to political debate or to the risk of Ian’s advances. 
To be fair, she felt pretty safe on the advances front, as Ian had been very
introverted since they had come back from the pub.  He’d made an effort
while they were out, and even tried to prolong things by getting another round
of drinks after Martin had left.  But by the time they were in the car, he
had gone very quiet, and since then had only spoken if he needed to.  She
knew the symptoms.  It was pathetic really.  He pretended everything
was all right, but bottled up all of his worries because he was afraid of
appearing weak.  The reality was that, if he actually opened up about his
problems and talked about them, she would think more of him.  Instead, he
was going to stew on them, make himself and everyone else around him miserable,
and achieve nothing until he admitted to himself that he did need to
talk.  In the mean time, Tanya would just have to guess what was troubling
him.

Unfortunately, at the moment, there could be any number of
things.  Obviously there were the money worries, and she was pretty
confident that was a large part of it.  She knew he was also concerned
about the building work at the cottages.  Matthew and Patrick were doing
the work for nothing at the moment.  True, they’d been promised a share of
the profits in exchange for that work, but until the houses were complete and –
more importantly – sold, that was as good as thin air to them.  If Ian
couldn’t renegotiate their loans, there was a strong chance that the properties
would be repossessed, which would mean the builders had worked for
nothing.  That wouldn’t sit well on Ian’s conscience.  On the other
hand, because Matthew and Patrick had no other income at the moment, if other
work was offered to them, they could very well drop the cottages and move
on.  That would leave Ian with no way of finishing the building work off,
which meant he wouldn’t have anything to sell.  On that front, it was all
a very fine balancing act.  If he misjudged anything, the whole thing
could fall over.

At the same time, she knew Ian was aware of how strained
their relationship had become recently.  That could well be preying on his
mind.  Martin’s presence might not have helped, though he seemed to have
accepted things quite well.  He’d been very friendly while they were at
the pub.  But that didn’t necessarily mean anything.  She knew from
experience how his mind worked.  He knew that jealousy stemmed from
insecurity and, to him, insecurity would be a sign of weakness.  There
could very well be an internal battle going on right now as he fought to
control any such feelings.  He would be reasoning with himself,
methodically listing all the reasons why he shouldn’t feel jealous or
insecure.  Completely ignoring the fact that he could rationalise as much
as he liked, but emotions and rationality rarely have anything in common. 
And while he did all of that, he would pretend that he wasn’t remotely
bothered.

Whether it was any or all of these things – or even if there
were other issues Tanya wasn’t aware of – right now she knew her husband was a
boiling mass that was trying to keep itself sealed.  Any time soon, one of
two things was going to happen.  If they were both lucky, he would have to
crack the seal and let some of the steam out to ease the pressure.  What
was more likely was that there would be an explosion.  As she sat back in
her armchair and surreptitiously studied him, a small part of her wondered if
the explosion might come in the form of a heart attack.  She couldn’t help
thinking that a coronary might solve a lot of problems.  Having been a
financial adviser for so many years, Ian was a great advocate of life
insurance, and always felt it was important to lead by example.

On the TV a familiar face was droning on about something
that she was convinced would have no impact on
her
life.  Ian
appeared to be taking an interest, but she knew he was miles away.  She
glanced in the direction of the hallway, wondering when Martin would be back.

He was another strange one.  It crossed her mind that
maybe she was attracted to odd blokes, but she quickly dismissed that. 
Her last fling had been with someone who she thought was very normal. 
Married, but bored like her.  He’d been just ready for some excitement,
and she’d been very happy to give it to him.

But Martin was quite different.  He had been very
flirty with her when they first met, and yet it seemed that as soon as she
became more serious about the opportunities they could have together, his
manner had changed.  The term ‘all mouth and trousers’ came to mind, but
she sensed it wasn’t that.  Nor did it seem to be a concern about what Ian
might think.  There was something else, and that intrigued her.

Not that it was likely she would get to the bottom of it
tonight.  Even if Ian was asleep, she wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and
get Martin into bed. 
That
would have to wait until tomorrow. 
But she might be able to find out some more about him.  She glanced at her
watch.  It was almost quarter to eleven.  If she was going to find
out some more, it wasn’t going to be a lot.

As if on cue, she heard a door close in another part of the
house.  She was surprised at how tense she suddenly felt.

“That must be Martin.”  Ian was on his feet before she
had a chance to react.  It was almost as if he’d been waiting for their
guest.  “I’ll go and see if he wants a nightcap.”

On the one hand, this meant that she didn’t have to come up
with any excuses to bring Martin in, Tanya realised.  At the same time, it
seemed strange that Ian should be so enthusiastic.  All she could do was
sit still and wait for them to come back to the living room.  In the mean
time, a member of the audience was asking for the panel’s views on the latest
killings in Northern Ireland.  Never having been to Northern Ireland, and
with no intention of going, this question was yet another irrelevance to
Tanya.  Fortunately, she was saved from further boredom as Ian came back
with Martin in tow.

“I’ll get the drinks,” he was saying.  He gestured to
an armchair.  “Have a seat.”  Picking up his empty tumbler, he turned
to leave the room again.  “Do you want a refill?” he asked Tanya.

She glanced at her glass, which was less than half
full.  Again she was aware of feeling uncomfortable about Martin. 
There was something not quite right.  For once, she thought she’d play it
safe.  “I’m fine for now.  I’ll see how I feel when I’ve finished
this.”

When Ian had gone, she looked at Martin properly.  His
chair was angled slightly away from her, but he had adjusted his position so he
was virtually face-on to her.  She couldn’t help thinking how attractive
he was.  Yet there was nothing in his expression to give her any
indication of what he was feeling – about her, or anything. 
Play it
safe
, she reminded herself.

“How did it go tonight?” she asked.

“Not a joyous reunion,” he said.  His tone gave nothing
away either.  No disappointment, no upset, no irony.  Nothing.

“How long is it since you last saw them?”

“I left in June nineteen seventy-four.”

“I suppose you’ve all changed a lot in that time.”

He smiled, but there was no humour in it.  “Not as much
as you’d think.”

She was still wondering how to react to that when Ian
returned with two half full tumblers.

“I thought you said a
small
nightcap,” Martin said as
he took his glass.

Ian smiled back at him conspiratorially.  It was a look
that made Tanya feel uneasy.  “That’s nothing.  We’ll have that down
us before we know it.”  He sat back in his own chair and raised his
tumbler as if giving a toast.  “You might even want another before you go
to bed.  Cheers!”

It looked like Ian was settling in for a long night, which
didn’t seem right to Tanya.  He had an early start tomorrow.  A
meeting with another bank.  And he’d want a clear head, so why was he
talking about drinking more after this one?

Martin had raised his glass in response to Ian’s, and was
smiling agreeably back at him.  She felt distinctly excluded, and couldn’t
understand why.  After all,
she
was the one who had brought Martin
into the house. 
She
was the one who had offered him a place to
stay.  But now wasn’t the time to find out.  It would inevitably mean
arousing Ian’s suspicions, and while she had no qualms about hurting him, she
wanted out of the marriage on
her
terms.  Tomorrow morning, when
Ian was out, she could talk to Martin and find out what was going on.

“Do you mind if I turn the telly off?” Ian asked her. 
Too politely?  He must know the programme bored the pants off her.

“Not at all.”  She smiled sweetly at him.  Was
that
too
much?  She took a gulp of her gin and tonic.  Or was
she becoming paranoid?  “I think I’ll leave you two after all.  It
sounds like you need some
Man
time, and I need my beauty sleep.”

It was an innocent enough comment, but almost guaranteed to
result in protestations that beauty sleep was completely unnecessary in her
case.

“Fair enough,” Ian said distractedly, switching the TV off.

“Have a good night,” was all Martin had to add.

Not sure whether to be offended, annoyed, suspicious or
concerned, Tanya finished her drink.