Spoils of War (40 page)

Bethan grasped the hand Liza had laid on her shoulder. ‘Take it very slowly with Peter. I’m not at all sure you’re doing the right thing in giving up Angelo for that boy after seeing him only twice.’

‘But I am, Auntie Beth, and don’t worry about me. Give Peter a chance and he’ll prove himself to you, as he has to me.’

‘I will, if only for Charlie’s and your sake.’

‘Thank you.’ Liza hugged her as she left her chair.

‘For what?’

‘Not shouting at me or forbidding me to see Peter.’

‘As if it would have made the slightest difference. But if you have any problems – anything at all …’

‘I’ll come straight to you, Auntie Beth. I promise.’

The house was quiet when Charlie unlocked the door. As quiet as it had been when he had left. The loudest noise came from the carriage clock ticking on the mantelpiece in the kitchen. After switching on the lights in every downstairs room and checking behind the furniture and curtains, he felt foolish. What was he looking for? What on earth was he expecting to find?

Climbing the stairs he crept quietly into the bedroom. Masha was lying asleep in bed, her head on the pillows, her book lying loosely between her fingers. Taking it from her he placed it on the bedside cabinet.

‘Oh, Feo, I meant to stay awake for you,’ she mumbled, struggling to open her eyes.

‘Go back to sleep, Masha. I will come to bed in a few minutes. Would you still like some tea?’

‘No, thank you.’ She snuggled down. He pulled the eiderdown over her and turned off all the lights except the bedside lamp before going downstairs. He still felt uneasy, as if something dreadful was about to happen, but whatever it was, it wasn’t connected to the house. He filled the kettle in the wash house, then dismissed the idea of tea. Returning to the kitchen he sat in front of the range and reached for the bottle of vodka he’d hidden down the side of the chair.

He was still sitting there, deep in thought and well into his third glass when Peter walked in.

‘I hope you behaved yourself.’

‘I had a good time,’ Peter replied answering him in Russian for the first time. ‘And I kissed Liza. I asked first and she let me.’

‘Then I can see why you had a good time, and judging by the smile on your face the good time had nothing to do with the film.’

‘I love her and I am going to marry her.’

‘Peter, you’re sixteen!’

‘You asked my mother to marry you when you were fifteen and she was fourteen. On top of a haystack on her father’s farm.’

Charlie smiled at the memory before he remembered he was talking to his son. ‘Your mother has told you far too much about me.’

‘She used to say she could never tell me enough. Did you ask her to marry you when you were fifteen?’

‘Yes,’ Charlie admitted reluctantly.

‘Liza is nineteen not fourteen, and old enough to make up her own mind.’

‘Like you at sixteen?’ Charlie mocked gently.

‘Boys grow up quickly in the camps and don’t laugh at me for asking a girl to marry me. I’m earning a good wage, I can keep a wife.’

‘I’m not laughing, and there are plenty of men keeping a wife and family on less than Ronnie Ronconi has agreed to pay you.’ Charlie held up the bottle. ‘One vodka?’

‘Only one?’

‘That’s all I’m offering. Peter, you have your whole life ahead of you; I don’t want you to take things too quickly.’

‘Like you. One wife at eighteen and another at … ?’ He looked quizzically at Charlie.

‘Twenty-eight, and only because I thought your mother – and you – were dead.’

‘How old is my brother?’

‘Four. I’m glad you mentioned him because although my marriage to his mother has been annulled, I intend to continue seeing him. I couldn’t help you when you were growing up, and I am sorry about that. I wish I could have at least seen you every day as I try to see Theo so you could have known who your father was.’

‘My mother told me.’

Given Masha and Peter’s differences in opinion on his worth, Charlie had no wish to pursue that line of conversation. ‘I hope you will like Theo, Peter. He looks a lot like you and, I’m sure he would like an older brother if you can bring yourself to be one.’

‘I would have to think about it.’

‘I also made your mother a promise tonight. That I will never leave her, nor will I ever see my other wife alone again.’

‘So what are you telling me? That you want me to be grateful because you have decided to be kind to your wife and son?’

‘No, I’m asking you for your help to persuade your mother to forget about going back to Russia. If we can convince her to look forward to a future here – as a family – we may stand a chance of building a life for all of us in this country.’

‘She’s still talking about going back to Russia?’

‘Yes.’

‘I will do what I can to stop her from even thinking of going back there.’ Peter finished his vodka, abandoned the glass on the table and went to the door. ‘What time do the shops open in the morning?’

‘Nine o’clock.’

‘None earlier?’

‘If Ronnie told you to buy overalls and boots he won’t expect you any earlier. Come into town with me at half-past eight and we will see what we can find, and not just work clothes. You need underclothes, socks, shoes, a suit and trousers and shirts for going out.’

‘Thank you – Father.’

Charlie sat back in his chair as Peter closed the door. As he poured himself another vodka he wondered if he’d heard him correctly – or if it had just been wishful thinking, and the drink.

*……*……*

‘You can have him, take him away.’

‘There’s no charge?’ Angelo stared at Mr Spickett in disbelief.

‘The police questioned Fred Jones when he came round. He admitted calling Miss von Stettin a Nazi and he wasn’t too keen to be called as a witness in court. Something to do with a fracas in the Two Foot Nine a couple of months ago and him being bound over to keep the peace for a year. So, tell your brother he’s one very lucky man and get him out of here before the police change their mind or find something else to charge him with.’

‘I will, Mr Spickett, and thank you.’

‘Don’t thank me, boy, just make sure Ronnie pays my bill on time.’

‘I will, and it will be me, not Ronnie, who pays it,’ he called after him.

He walked into the police station in time to see the desk sergeant tipping the contents of Tony’s pockets out of a brown paper envelope.

‘You look like hell,’ he commented, as Tony rummaged through a mixture of coins, notes, train tickets, pens, bottle opener and penknife.

‘And you’d look a lot better, after spending a night in the cells, I suppose?’ Tony rubbed his unwashed, unshaven face. ‘I’m bloody freezing.’

‘Come on, I’ll buy you a drink, then you can clean up above the café.’

‘Where we going?’

‘I’ll tell you where we’re not going, and that’s the New Inn. They’d take one look at you and have you arrested for vagrancy.’

‘You here to sell me a car, Ronnie, or do you want to see me professionally?’ Andrew set aside the paper on the New National Health Service his father had given him, along with a warning that it might be necessary for all the doctors in the country to strike to teach the new Labour Government that they couldn’t dictate policy to professional physicians.

‘I’m here to see you, but not about me. Cigarette?’

‘I’ve switched to a pipe.’ Andrew pulled it out of his pocket and looked at it.

‘A cigarette is quicker, safer, cleaner and a lot cheaper if you’re going to use that excuse to cadge off other people.’

‘You’re right. It does look disgusting and it tastes even worse.’ Andrew took one of Ronnie’s cigarettes. ‘I take it you want to talk about Diana?’

‘I want her home. I’ve spoken to Bethan. I know Diana realises she’s married. She may not know who she’s married to, but once she sees me, I’m sure it will come back.’

‘And if it doesn’t?’

‘I’ll make her fall in love with me all over again.’

‘Ronnie …’

‘I’ve listened to all the arguments and stood aside while you, your father and that damned specialist have lectured me on what’s best for me and my wife. But no more. Diana’s conscious, restless, anxious to be home – not that we’ve got one I can take her to – she’s making progress and she can do the exercises to strengthen her left side just as well in Megan and Dino’s spare bedroom as she can in hospital. I telephoned the physiotherapists to ask,’ he admitted sheepishly.

‘I’m surprised they talked to you.’

‘I told them I was you.’

‘Thank you very much, Dr Ronconi.’

‘I want her home, Andrew. And if you won’t let her out of that hospital I’ll sign her out as next of kin. And I can do that. After I telephoned the physiotherapist I phoned Spickett’s.’

‘I bet they didn’t advise you to go ahead.’

‘I didn’t ask for their advice, just a ruling on a point of law. I’ve just spent three years fighting for everyone else’s freedom. Now I’m fighting for my wife’s.’

‘I understand your frustration.’

‘No you don’t. You came home and found Bethan there, waiting for you. What did it take – ten minutes to get her into bed? Well, ten minutes after I walked through the front door my wife was lying in a pool of blood on the kitchen floor with me hoping she’d live long enough for the ambulance to arrive.’

‘The specialist –’

‘Hang the specialist.’

Recalling Bethan’s plea that he do all he could to help Diana go home, if only for a day, Andrew relented. ‘Look, I’ll compromise with you. If I ask the specialist to allow Diana home to spend a weekend with her mother and children under my supervision – just to see how it goes will you agree not to sign her out?’

‘This weekend?’

Andrew thought of his ultimatum to Bethan that they spend the week in Gower. But Diana was her cousin – if anyone would understand it would be her.

‘This weekend,’ he agreed. ‘Ask Megan to bring some clothes in for Diana. If the specialist doesn’t give his permission I’ll waylay her –’

‘And I’ll sign Diana out.’

‘I’ll do my best to get permission.’

‘Please, Andrew, I’m not very good at throwing my weight around.’

‘Frankly, Ronnie, I think you’re a past master at it. But whatever you do, don’t come to the hospital. Stay at home with the children and wait for Diana there. If my father or the specialist get one whiff of what we’re up to it will be my head on the chopping block along with yours. I only hope it won’t be Diana’s.’

*……*……*

‘So, I’ve decided,’ Tony’s hand shook as he lifted the pint to his lips in the back room of the White Hart. ‘I’m going.’

‘When?’

‘Soon as I’ve washed and changed and packed my bags.’

‘Where?’

‘What does that matter?’

‘Soldiers are being demobbed all the time, some are finding it difficult to get jobs.’

‘They’re always looking for sailors.’

‘Will said you were seasick crossing the Channel.’

‘Will talks too much. If I can’t go to sea, I’ll go back into the army. What does it matter what I do?’

‘And Gabrielle?’

‘Tell her I’m sorry.’

‘You’re sorry. Just like that. You ask the girl to come over here at her own expense. You fill her full of lies about hotels and chains of fancy restaurants. You hit a bloke out cold in front of her, get yourself thrown in jail and expect me to go and say sorry for you when you run off and abandon her in a strange country where she hardly knows a soul. You’ve got the wrong brother, Tony. Try one of the others – but not Ronnie. He still wants to separate your head from your shoulders for what you did to Diana.’

‘I’ve made a mess of everything.’ Tony took another swig of beer and reached for his cigarettes.

‘And you’re feeling sorry for yourself. Well, what about Gabrielle? Try thinking of someone besides yourself for five minutes.’

‘I’ve got some savings, I’ll give her the fare home.’

‘And that will make it all right?’

‘No, it won’t, but you’ve seen her. She’ll be better off without me. She’ll soon find someone else. Someone with more money and better prospects.’

‘And if she doesn’t want this mythical someone with more money and better prospects?’

‘Come on, Angelo, she’d have to be an idiot to want me after the way I’ve behaved.’

‘I tried telling her that last night but she wouldn’t listen. Come on, finish that pint. Your clothes are back at the house but I brought Alfredo’s clothes down to the café this morning. You can borrow his razor and a clean shirt, wash, change and go down to the restaurant. Gabrielle’s working there.’

‘What?’

‘You heard.’

‘Gabrielle? You made her –’

‘I didn’t make her do anything. She wants to pay her way and she jumped at the chance of earning some money. There’s no one in the function room, the two of you can go up there, then if you still want to tell her to go back to Germany, you can tell her yourself.’

‘There’s more.’

‘More what?’ Angelo looked at him mystified.

‘Judy Crofter’s having my baby.’

‘What!’ Angelo dropped his pint. Fortunately it didn’t fall further than the table and the glass remained intact.

‘Hey …’

‘Sorry,’ Angelo shouted to the barman. ‘There’s nothing broken, just a bit spilled. I’ll clear it up.’

‘Here you go.’ He threw a cloth over and Angelo mopped up the beer, glad to do something that gave him an excuse not to look at Tony’s face.

‘Judy wants me to pay maintenance. Ten bob a week. That’s why I gave her her old job back. I agreed to give her two quid a week.’

‘You agreed to pay her two quid when every other waitress gets thirty bob. You trying to bankrupt us?’

‘Gabrielle was there, I didn’t want her to find out.’

‘I was right all along. That first night you were home – the night you knocked Diana through the window and were found in Leyshon Street in your trousers with your flies open – you’d been in Judy Crofter’s.’

‘I was drunk.’

‘Christ, Tony, I’m fed up with hearing you say that. It’s no bloody excuse for anything.’

‘Judy threw me out, that’s why I was sitting in the gutter.’

‘Judy might not have Gabrielle’s looks or education but it seems to me she has more sense when it comes to picking men.’