Afterwards (18 page)

What would Joseph say? That’s just the obvious? Alice could accept that much: maybe these bits and pieces did just reflect her ignorance. Or at least her choice of daily paper. But he was the best person to put that right for her, surely? He could tell her. What would he do if she pushed him, just kept on insisting? Even thinking about that was frightening: she’d gone too far before, and her dad had stopped writing. It was too easily done, that kind of damage, and too complete. But it didn’t have to be that way with Joseph, did it? The cup of tea he’d made for her skinned over on the box that served as a bedside table.

Joseph didn’t have much furniture, said he could never get round to it. His flat was mostly floorboards and crates, with a couple of nice things he’d picked up from skips and on jobs. He’d told Alice it drove his sister mad: he’d been there four years and she said it still looked like he was squatting. It wasn’t so important to Joseph, Alice knew that, and she liked the fact he didn’t
care about owning much. A comfortable mattress, a few good albums on vinyl, but walking around his rooms that morning, she was tempted to agree with Eve: it did all seem very temporary.
Irrational. You’ve got no reason to think he’ll be going, have you?
Alice washed and dressed. She was alone in the flat and thought for a while she could go looking.
No. Pathetic.
Whatever it was, she wasn’t going to find it in his sock drawer or his kitchen cabinets.

Alice worked with a woman from Glasgow: Siona was a few years older, had lived all over, left home and Scotland when she was sixteen. She’d taught Alice ‘The Fields of Athenry’ at a hospital party once. Her dad was a Celtic supporter, her whole family, and he’d taken Siona to the football every weekend, even before she started school. Her mum drew the line at Old Firm games, but her brothers told her about them: Red Hand of Ulster on one set of terraces, tricolours and rebel songs on the other. Siona said she’d always known the words, and on which side she belonged. Told Alice about the Orange marches through the city centre too: could feel the drums in your belly, even when they were streets away. And about the blades that got pulled on the side roads after matches, away from the stadium and the mounted police, where the crowds got thinner.
Best to stick with your own
. Siona had been glad to get away from it:
that mentality. Imagine being caught up in Belfast or Portadown, where that shite really matters.

On Sunday, Alice visited her grandfather as usual. Crossword and tea, and then she helped him do some autumn tidying in the back garden. Raked the leaves
into black bags for rotting, stacked up twigs and dry stems ready for burning. When the light started to go, they retreated into his kitchen. Her grandad talked frosts and pests while the kettle was boiling: a nothing conversation that Alice joined in with, standing next to the radiator, but the cold of the day stayed in her face and fingers. This was nothing like the conversations they’d had in the summer: her grandfather was back to his old arm’s-length habits, and Alice didn’t like it.

He asked after Joseph, interested, the way he always did now, and it irritated her.

– He’s fine, working hard before things slow down over the winter.

Alice shrugged out the platitudes. Through the door, she could see the new wallpaper in the hallway, thought of all the hours and days Joseph had spent here. The job was finished, but he’d even talked about coming again, touching up the woodwork, which didn’t look to her like it needed doing.

It was cold outside and starting to spot when she left. Her grandfather waited in the porch while she unlocked her bike, and then he came to the gate as always, but she didn’t give him a kiss, just waved, backing away, saying she’d call and see him in a fortnight. Alice cycled to the station, angry with them both, her grandfather and Joseph, but she was also ashamed at her own behaviour. Sulking about the two men and the time they spent together. Neither of them was giving anything. She pushed hard against the pedals.

His dad’s birthday fell on a Saturday, and his mum was cooking lunch. She dropped hints on the phone about inviting Alice along, and Joseph was glad when he asked her, could see she was pleased.

– Who else will be there?

– Just Eve and Art. And Ben.

Alice was pulling on her waterproofs in his hallway, ready for a wet morning’s cycle to work.

– Yeah, alright then. Yeah.

She stopped to answer, smiling at him from behind her jacket collar, and Joseph thought the invitation could be a way of making up to her, maybe. For the way he’d been with her lately: on his guard, and he didn’t want to be. Picking up extra jobs, though he didn’t need the money at the moment, just kept saying yes to them, working all hours and he’d hardly seen her this past week or two. He kissed her before she went out the door.

Alice had met Eve and Arthur before, but only once and accidentally. She’d arrived at the flat as they were leaving one afternoon, and they’d all stood out on the walkway shaking hands and smiling, Ben hiding behind Eve’s legs and Alice crouching down to say hello and everyone laughing because he was so shy with her.

Joseph stood out there now, looking down at the courtyard. Watched Alice cycle through the puddles and out onto the road. She wasn’t stupid, wouldn’t stand this treatment long, he knew that, and it made him nervous. She was happy about meeting his parents, but she’d also want some proper answers to her questions.

Joseph’s mum had a new blouse on when they got there, a spot of lippy too, for Alice’s benefit probably. He smiled about it with his mum in the kitchen, getting cups of tea ready for everyone, and she swiped at his knees with a dishcloth for making fun, but she wasn’t angry.

– Go and sit down, smartarse, I’ll bring the tray in.

Ben was sticking close to Eve again, watching Alice the whole time, but not going near. Alice tried kneeling down by the tank engines on the rug for a while, but he wasn’t having any of it. She did better with Joseph’s mum, sitting next to her over lunch, talking to her about what she could do for her back, the nagging pains of twenty-odd years spent bending over people’s haircuts. Joseph watched them across the table, tucking in their chins and dropping their shoulders, thinking about what Alice had said about her job, how you could get to know people looking after their tendons and joints, that was the best part, if you got that trust. His mum was following Alice’s lead, straightening her spine, and letting her arms hang loose by her sides.

Joseph’s dad was first at the door after the washing up was done. Standing with his coat on and his snooker cue, waiting while they all said goodbye to Joseph’s mum. Alice was slow about her buttons and said it didn’t seem right:

– First you cook for us, and now we’re leaving you here and going to the pub.

– Don’t be silly, love.

Joseph’s mum waved her off, pleased to be made a fuss of. Ben was sleeping upstairs, and she said someone had to listen out for him. Joseph knew Alice was doing everything right for his mum, but she was pissing Eve off in the process. He could see his sister trying to keep it polite, and failing:

– We’ll take it in turns. It’s what we always do.

– Oh right, okay.

Alice blinked, awkward, and Joseph was glad when his mum smiled at her again.

– I’ll be fine, put my feet up. Do some of your exercises first.

It was wet outside and the estate was quiet, just a couple of boys on bikes with their hoods pulled up. The rain came on harder again while they were walking, so they cut through the alley past the shops, which got them to the side entrance of the snooker club. There was a reception on in the function room and a sign pointed the wedding guests round to the main door on the road, the paper damp and flapping. Joseph’s dad stood aside for Alice and they all followed her inside.

Music leaked through the walls from the party, but there were only a few in the main bar, and one game on round the corner where the snooker tables were. Joseph played his dad, because that’s what they always did on birthdays, and Arthur set up one of the other tables with Alice while
Eve got the drinks in. They weren’t playing a proper game: Arthur was just explaining how the scoring worked and setting up shots so Alice could get used to holding a cue. It wasn’t done on a Saturday really, taking up a table like that, but the club wasn’t as busy as usual, probably because of the party next door, and no one was complaining. Alice was on form too, and Joseph had to admire her: new place, new people, and after the bad start with Eve and everything, she wasn’t letting it get to her, and not taking herself too seriously either. In a room full of would-have-been-professionals, and creasing up when she couldn’t get the white up the length of the table. Never made it as far as the pink, came to rest a good couple of feet from the cushion. Hard to tell what she’d been aiming for, the yellow would have been easier. It was good to see her like that, his dad and Arthur laughing with her, and Eve as well. Even the old sod who’d come in after them and was waiting for a game cracked a smile.

Joseph’s dad had a comfortable win and stayed on the table to play the next man. Their first drinks were nearly finished, so Joseph took a turn up at the bar, but there was nobody serving. A bloke came in from the function room carrying pints, nodded to Joseph and then back at the door he’d just come through:

– They’re all in there. Never put enough staff on today.

He looked familiar, but Joseph couldn’t place him: one of his mum and dad’s neighbours maybe. He’d recognised Joseph too: not at first, but after he’d passed him, gave him a longer, second look over his shoulder. Still no one behind the bar, so Joseph signalled to Arthur that he was going into the big room.

It was hot in there and full of people. Pork pies cut into quarters and pints served in plastic glasses. A few wedding guests were dancing, not pissed enough yet and a bit embarrassed, sharing fags and trying to pretend they were only talking while they shuffled to the muffled disco on the cracked lino. Someone had closed the curtains to get the right atmosphere going, only there weren’t enough to cover all the windows and Joseph could see that it was still light outside. A sign on the wall said free bar for half an hour and the queue was three deep. Everyone was getting pints and chasers and when he finally got served, the drinks Joseph ordered for his dad and Arthur came with shots he never asked for. Too many glasses for the tiny tray the barmaid brought him. Joseph didn’t think about it for long, just downed them.

His dad was over by the fruit machines when Joseph came back with the drinks. He had a small crowd gathered around him, shaking hands and back-slapping the birthday boy, and they turned and acknowledged Joseph as he was passing: men he’d known all his life, mates of his dad’s from work, dads of his friends from school. Joseph looked back when he got to the tables, but the bloke from earlier wasn’t among them.

Eve and Alice were sitting together now. Space enough for at least one person between them on the bench, and it looked like Alice was making most of the conversation, but they carried on talking after Joseph pulled a chair up with them, so he didn’t like to interrupt. Just sat back and watched Arthur playing the old sod from earlier. He listened to the karaoke from the other room, ‘Hi Ho Silver Lining’ and then ‘I Will Survive’, felt the warmth in his throat making its way down to his guts, the chasers getting to work.

The place was filling up, smelled of wet coats and fag smoke. Arthur lost his game but Joseph’s dad was going strong. All the tables were busy and more people waiting, the nodding bloke from earlier among them: he was standing by the far wall and kept looking over, Joseph was sure of it. He watched Eve to see if she’d noticed, maybe she knew who he was. But Eve was still talking to Alice, and Arthur was in the next room up at the bar, so Joseph read the names chalked on the board to see if one of them matched: Michael, Martin, Trevor. Nothing coming back.

Arthur put his tray full of drinks down on the table, said the women next door had a line dance going:

– Slapping thighs, all wobbling chins and arses.

He shook his head and Eve laughed, told him not to be so rude: they were probably friends of hers from school. Alice smiled her thanks for the pint he’d bought her.

– Reckon this is one too many.

She raised her glass to Joseph, then pressed it against her cheeks, grinning, a bit pink-faced: alcohol or nerves, most likely both. She’d been chatting to Eve on and off for a while, all quite friendly, so maybe it was relief. The party next door was getting louder, and some joker had put the jukebox on to try and drown it out. Joseph’s dad was still playing and the bloke was still by the far wall, watching, a couple of mates with him now, and they had their heads leant in close and talking. Joseph had met one of them before, he couldn’t remember
when exactly, but it was definitely at Malky’s. After he left the army, and before he went to Portugal: not a good time to have known him. Joseph tried to stop looking, keep his mind on how things were going with Alice and his sister. Arthur was talking about going back to the house: Ben would be up by now, and it was about time Joseph’s mum came out. Eve said she’d finish her drink and follow on, and Joseph thought maybe he and Alice should call a cab and go home. Getting dark out now, his bladder was full, the table covered in empty glasses. He leaned over them to Alice:

– How long do you want to stay?

– I’d like to buy a drink for your Mum when she comes.

– I’ll get it just now. One for my Dad too and then we’ll get off, eh?

– Okay.

He hadn’t talked to her all afternoon, wondered what sort of a time she’d been having. Both been drinking for hours, wine at lunch and then however many pints in here. Joseph stacked the glasses. Arthur was gone, his mum would be here soon, and they were serving up at the bar again now, so he stood up to get the drinks in. Steering himself between the tables towards the toilets first. Had to walk past the bloke to get there, hadn’t thought it through before he started. Too late to change his course because the bloke had seen him now, stepping away from the wall.