Breakdown (10 page)

“Ah, perhaps,” Chris said, edging away from them toward the counter.

“Clear
off
,” Pauline said again.

Chris wondered if she would have to shoo them like chickens or ducks.

“Bye, Chris,” they all said in various singsong tones, and exited as a group, fluttering fingers at him.

Pauline screwed up her face. “Sorry.”

“Huh,” Chris said, and Pauline grinned.

A deep voice spoke up from behind the counter. “You’re the most exciting thing to happen around here in years.” The man sat at a desk behind the counter. He pushed himself out of his chair with a wry look. He appeared older than George, weatherworn, but not as old as Grace.

“Hello, Mr. Percy,” Pauline said. “This is Chris Price, our boarder.”

“Friend of Michael Cooper’s, I hear,” Mr. Percy said. He pulled out a drawer and rummaged.

“Um, yes.”

Mr. Percy grunted. Chris raised his eyebrows at Pauline. She smiled back and rocked on her feet.

“Visit or relocating?”

“Extended visit,” Chris replied, stepping up to the counter.

“Don’t have a form for that. Fortnight visit or relocating, take your pick. If you want coupons, you’re relocating.”

“Relocating, then.”

The postmaster shoved a two-page form at Chris, then pulled a pen tied to a string out from under the counter. “You’ve got a valid card?”

“Yes, sir,” Chris said, reaching for his back pocket. Mr. Percy waved it off.

“Good enough. I’m supposed to ask you some bloody questions, but they’re all on the form. There’s no carbon, so do both copies.” He turned and sat down at his desk again.

Chris stood at the counter and filled out the two identical forms. He signed them and cleared his throat.

“I think that’s everything,” he said.

Mr. Percy looked over the papers. “Right. Looks official.” He picked out a rubber stamp from a box and thumped each copy with vigor. “You need some interim coupons?”

“No, actually. I brought a book along from my last place.”

“Good job,” Mr. Percy said, and nodded. He eyed Chris with pursed lips. “You might ask Michael to let you have his place. He’s not using it. Good land. You could do well with it. You’re young enough to start a family.”

Pauline drew a breath and stood up straighter. Chris felt a tickle in his throat and made a show of coughing.

“Well,” he said when he’d recovered his breath, “I’m not planning to stay, as I said. I’ll be moving on in a bit. Thanks.” He motioned vaguely at the forms on the counter.

Mr. Percy continued to eye him.

“Thanks for your help,” Pauline said. She turned for the door. Chris beat her to it, and held it for her. They escaped into the sunshine.

Chris expected the trio to be waiting, but the street was empty except for the old men by the fountain.

“Wow,” Chris said.

“I’m sorry,” Pauline said.

“Not your fault.”

“He’s got a daughter, in case you hadn’t guessed. Her fiancé was in the military and never came home.”

“Are there no other men in this town?”

“No, actually. No single men of the right age. They’re married or older or, um, not eligible.”

“Holy crap.”

“I’ll tell them to leave you alone, but I don’t know what good it will do.”

Chris dredged up memories of the crowds of girls and women who would follow the band and compete for whatever they could get. The worst of it had only lasted a couple of years. The breakup and his move to New York had put an end to it. It had been an ego boost at the time. Now he found it distinctly discomforting.

“I expect I can put them off easily enough.”

They walked on in silence until they reached the church.

“Let’s just stop in here for a moment, okay?” Pauline said outside the lych-gate of the churchyard. They passed through the dark wood structure on the stone path, then she veered off into the grass. She made her way past crooked, worn markers to the edge of the graveyard and stopped by a small, bright white stone. Chris followed, saw the name and date: Paul George Anderson, born 1931, died 2000.

“That’s Dad. I hate the stone, but at least we got a stone.”

Chris’s throat tightened up, and he stood back from her.

“It was a stroke,” Pauline went on. “We couldn’t take him to hospital, and there were no doctors.”

Chris had heard all this before. Cooper told him, one night after lights-out, the two of them on separate sides of their shared dormitory room. Cooper had rambled on night after night about his friends the Andersons, but sometimes Chris hardly listened, never imagining that he would ever meet them.

Pauline squatted down and pulled a few weeds, then stood up again. “Those are my grandparents.” She pointed to an ornate gravestone next to the plain, newer one. “That stone cost a small fortune.”

“You’ve always lived here?” Chris asked, having found his voice again, thinking that he should make an effort at polite conversation and not just stand around uncomfortably.

“God, no!” Pauline said with a wave of her hand. “Grew up here, yes. I left to go to university. No intention of coming back. I thought I hated it here. I was a modern, independent woman, y’know. I’d got my degrees, my license. I had my own flat and a good job. I planned to fit in a family around my career if opportunity arose. I couldn’t believe my educated father preferred the farm. Of course, I came back when all the chaos started.”

He nodded. She turned and headed back out of the churchyard. Chris looked again at the stones, then walked after her.

She glanced back, slowed her pace so he caught up.

“So, tell me about New York. Did you live right in the city?”

“For a short time, yes. Bought a house and moved to the suburbs when I mar—got married.”

“I always wanted to go there. Never managed it.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it now,” he said, and she half grinned.

“No, I think not.” They walked on up the road, and she got serious. “You were there, when it all started?”

“Yes.”

“Was it awful?”

Chris took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry. I always ask too many questions. It’s my nature. Used to make a living at it.”

“I know. You were a psychologist. Cooper told me.”

“What else did he tell you?”

“That you were very good at it.”

Pauline smiled at the compliment. “You can tell me to naff off anytime.”

“All right.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes.

“How did you get back here?”

“I worked my way over on a ship.”

“Are there ships again, then?”

“Yes. Not like it used to be, but there’s some trade.”

“And you came in at Portsmouth?”

“No.” Chris shook his head. “London. I was there for a couple months before I got another ship to Portsmouth. I’d used up all my money in London and was trying to earn some more,” he said. “But they stiffed me.”

“And you had to work off the jail debt.”

“Yes.”

“That’s awful. They shouldn’t be able to do that.” They walked on a bit, and she seemed to be thinking. “What’s London like, now?”

“It’s a stinking hole.”

“I used to go up to London on the weekends. Michael had a flat there. I’d go and stay with him. I loved the museums. I loved to watch the Horse Guards come down the Mall. I used to go to Buckingham Palace.”

“It’s a burnt-out ruin now,” Chris said, and regretted it when he saw her pained expression. “Crap, I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “It’s all gone, everything, isn’t it?” They reached the house, and she stopped and leaned on the wall. Chris stopped, too. “Look at us. We don’t even have electricity.”

“This is a good place. You have your family, you have food, and you’re safe. It’s better than a lot of places I’ve been. And you know where your dad is buried.” Chris’s right hand went reflexively to his left, caressed his wedding ring briefly.

She looked over at him, didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lecture.”

“No, I know.” She looked away into the distance. “My little brother went missing. Jim. He was traveling. He wanted to celebrate the new millennium someplace exotic.” She shook her head. “We have no idea what happened to him.”

“Yes, Cooper told me.”

“He was a black sheep. A lucky black sheep. Anything he tried turned to gold. Except at the end.” She took a deep breath and pushed herself away from the wall and met his gaze. “Sometimes I forget how good we have it. Thanks for reminding me. I don’t know what it’s like anywhere else. I rarely go beyond Breton. Just into Petersfield for my blood test or shopping. At first it wasn’t safe. Now I can hardly bear the thought of it. I don’t want to see what’s happened.”

“The world’s a harder place, now. But you can still find good people, even in the worst places.” He looked away from her, trying not to think of Beryl. “Even in London.”

* * *

They were sitting down to breakfast a few days later when the back door opened. Wes stepped in, wearing a dripping waterproof and holding a fishing rod.

“You’re up early today,” Pauline said in surprise.

“Do you want to go fishing?” Wes asked her.

“Oh, um, well. I have some things to do this morning. Maybe Chris would like to go?”

Wes’s face fell. He looked at Chris with doubt clear in his expression.

“Yeah, sure,” Chris said, taking his cue from the pleading look Pauline gave him. “I’ll go with you, after milking.”

“Do you know how to fish?” Wes asked.

“I’ve done a good bit of fishing over the years.”

“Okay.”

“Come have breakfast,” Pauline said, taking the rod from the boy’s hand. “Give me your waterproof.”

He shrugged out of it, and Pauline hung it up while Marie got a plate, cup, and fork for him and George pulled a chair over from the other side of the room. They squeezed him in between Pauline and Grace. He ate hungrily, and Chris saw Pauline frowning as she watched the boy. She shifted her eyes to Chris.

“I’ll have to find you a waterproof, Chris, and some wellies.”

“He can use mine,” George said. “I’ve a rod you can use, too.”

“There should be some in that closet, in the spare room,” Pauline said. It sounded tentative to Chris. She and George exchanged a look, and they both looked at Grace.

“Yes, I believe there are,” Grace said, her eyes downcast. Then she looked up at Chris and smiled. “There may be some other clothes in there you can use as well. Whatever you need. Have a look.”

“Thank you.” Chris glanced at Pauline, but she was looking at her plate. She seemed to take a breath in relief.

After breakfast, Chris followed Pauline up to the spare room. He sat on the bed unlacing his shoes while she squeezed in through the tiny door and rummaged in the closet. She found the wellies quickly and handed them out to him to try on. She came out with the waterproof as he was putting on the second boot.

“Perfect,” he said, standing up.

“Lovely.” Pauline held out the slicker. Chris put it on and pulled up the zip. “Good. I thought you were about Jim’s size. Anything else you want, just take it.”

“I’m not going to rifle your brother’s closet. I wouldn’t feel right.”

“You’re as bad as Mum. It’s not like he’ll ever need them again.” She put her chin up a bit as she said it, looked off into a corner of the room.

Chris hesitated, not sure if he should say anything, but then she looked back at him.

“But you’re here, aren’t you?” she said softly. “And in Bath they all think you’re dead.”

The way she said it made him take a sharp breath. He put his hands in his pockets, then made a pretense of exploring the waterproof.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean anything by that. It’s just—well, I kept hope alive for a long time. Then I decided it was pointless. No real hope, not anymore. And then you came, and you’ve been trying to get home all this time, and now you’re almost there. And I feel guilty for giving up hope.”

Chris’s stomach was churning. He didn’t say anything. He wanted to escape into the rain with Wes. He shifted one foot backward toward the door. Pauline saw it.

“I’m sorry, I’ve made you uncomfortable.” She shook herself slightly. “I’ll find you some things today, then, while you’re out, and leave them on the bed. Some trousers, shirts, a couple of jumpers...all right?”

“All right. Thank you.”

“Thank you, for going with Wes. I rather put you on the spot, I’m afraid.”

“I don’t mind. I like fishing.”

“Good. I find it unbelievably boring, but he always wants me to go. And it will be easy on your ribs. They’re sore again, from the milking, aren’t they?”

“It’s not bad.”

“Make sure he eats the lunch, even if you don’t stay out ’til lunchtime?”

“I will do,” he assured her. She nodded, and he left her there, arms crossed, staring at the open closet.

Spiral Down
(excerpt)
(C. Price, 1996)

I want to soothe you.
Button up Pandora’s box.
A thorny stalemate
Puts us hard upon the rocks.

And so you spiral down.
I see you flounder, watch you drown.
But for me
Everything is easy.

CHAPTER 9

“I
was wondering...” Chris said, but did not go on.

The sewing basket sat open on the kitchen table between them. Pauline had a pile of mending next to her, Chris a pair of cords and a shirt to mend. George, Marie, and Grace had all gone to the pub. Chris had encouraged Pauline to go too; he felt odd that she was staying home because of him. It was the second time she had stayed home since he had arrived, but she insisted that she had mending to do and didn’t really want to go anyway. She offered to do his things for him, but he assured her that he could do them.

Pauline looked up at him, waited.

“Do you think it would be all right if I stayed through the winter?”

She straightened in her chair. “Oh. I thought you’d want to go on to Bath as soon as you could.”

Chris swallowed, concentrated on the rip in his trousers. He took a few stitches. “You know what you said about hope? Last week, when you got me the waterproof and the wellies...How you’d given it up, about your brother, because it seemed pointless?”