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‘Coming. I’m coming.’
The knock came again. Loud and sharp. Impatient.
‘Hang on!’
The house was empty except for Andrew. He ran down the stairs and flung open the door. On the doorstep was a man in uniform. RNVR, two rings on the cuff. He seemed suddenly uncertain why he was there. He only stared. Andrew instinctively took a step back but said nothing.
‘I’m looking for a man called Raynes.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Andrew Raynes?’
‘Yes.’
The man looked him up and down, dispassionately, but with an unsettling air of familiarity. He knew he looked a sight. He was barely dressed, hair uncombed, and he’d washed with sloppy haste the night before, desperate for his bed. Suddenly the man put out a gloved hand,
‘I’m Ralph Lanyon.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Andrew said, firmly, with the well-rehearsed voice he used with hostile but respectable strangers, ‘And If you don’t mind, I have to get on. Good day,’
He closed the door, and shot back up the stairs to the sound of more banging, quieter this time. He looked out of the window. If this was some kind of joke he was too tired to appreciate it. The man had crossed the road to get a better view and was peering up at the house. Andrew moved out of his sightline and looked again. The man had turned and was fumbling with a cigarette with increasing irritation. His right hand un-gloved already, suddenly he ripped off the left glove and threw it onto the pavement, swearing under his breath, and immediately Andrew saw his mistake. He brought to mind, not for the first time, what it was that had bothered him about that earlier encounter, the failure of his opponent to raise both fists, and this time found the answer. As he let out a curse to himself, milder but no less emphatic, the slow whine of the air-raid siren filled the air, rising in pitch and volume. Andrew threw up the window and gave a piercing whistle, gesturing as soon as the top of the white cap turned in his direction.
‘Please come in! We’ve got a basement!’
Ralph stood stock still, the newly lit cigarette hanging from his fingers.
‘Don’t be a fool!’ Andrew shouted, then shut the window abruptly, suddenly embarrassed. Well, there was nothing for it now. He ran back down to usher Ralph downstairs.
‘Well, this is a rum do, isn’t it?’ said Ralph, pulling out his torch as he squeezed through the passageway and down the stairs into the cramped, dank, space.
‘Hold on, there’s a light.’
A single, dim bulb buzzed into life, hanging precariously from a wire strung across the low ceiling, if one could call it that, barely illuminating a space which had never been domesticated.
‘Pull up a crate,’ said Andrew humourously, indicating a pile by the wall and some pieces of sacking which had been saved up over the months. They took one each, sitting near the edge of the barely detectable arc of light on the floor.
‘Should I put this out?’
‘Oh, there’s no need,’
‘Well, you’d better have one – do you?’
‘I will, thanks,’
Ralph offered one from a case, replaced it, got out his lighter, and lit Andrew’s, his own cigarette held between his lips.
‘Thanks, I would offer to pay you back, but I don’t have any, I’m afraid.’
‘Social smoker, are you? Can’t see the point myself.’
Andrew smiled and nodded. They sat in silence, glad of the dim light which excused them from looking at one another. Suddenly Ralph let out a short little laugh and said, half to himself, ‘I knew he hadn’t told you, the little . . . I could wring his neck.’
A series of questions came to Andrew’s mind one by one. He could not ask any of them without revealing more than he wanted to. A few moments thought told him he needn’t ask at all.
‘Don’t be too hard on him,’ he said at last. ‘I expect he tried and found he couldn’t.’
‘I bet he hasn’t written to you at all, has he?’ Ralph said. He was shaking his head, but there was something perfunctory about the show of astonishment.
‘It’s quite all right. I didn’t expect it.’
‘Well, I wish I’d known. I‘d have made him write to you.’
Made him? ‘You should have tried threatening to give him a hundred lines. Although I imagine he’d have preferred the lines. He is quite stubborn, isn’t he?’
Ralph burst out laughing. Andrew laughed a little in relief and then stopped. Ralph paused and looked at him, or at least the angle of his head gave the impression he was looking at him intently. It seemed to be a habitual expression, perhaps he got away with the straight, open gaze because of his deep-set eyes, Andrew thought. Now they showed tiny points of reflected light. ‘Well,’ Ralph said, ‘I imagine you’ve already worked out that it makes no difference. I tried to explain that to him and it led to an argument. Rather a stupid one, I seem to remember.’
‘Well, he was always very loyal to you,’
‘Was he?’ Ralph spoke on a rising inflection as though he’d been given some cheek.
‘Not that it’s any of my business,’ Andrew went on. He knew Laurie well enough to imagine what the ‘stupid row’ might have looked like.
‘I would have thought it’s very much your business.’
Andrew felt the colour rising in his face. Incredulous, he looked straight back at Ralph and found with relief that he had already dropped his gaze. He felt his chest tighten a little. He tried to identify the sensation. Not anger, exactly. It was the slow drag of an effort being demanded of him. For Laurie’s sake. How was it still his business? He had never had to think about it before, never had to imagine framing the words to another person, let alone this person. Aware of the silence, he said, ‘So why have you come here?’ as evenly as he could.
‘Well I think the point is moot now, isn’t it?’ said Ralph. ‘It’s all a lot of nonsense really,’ he went on, into the silence, ‘I shouldn’t have come. I felt so sure the two of you might still,’ some small movement from Andrew caught his attention, ‘might be in touch. That’s all. And now that I’m back on the active list. I’m up here waiting for the call. One always has the urge to – well, to put one’s affairs in order, so to speak.’
‘You mean you wanted to give us your blessing, and suddenly found there was no need?’ He felt it in his guts before he worked it out in his head. He had only thought of Laurie as a friend he had let down. He took responsibility for over-stepping the mark, for exploiting his kindness, his shyness. Tongue-tied Laurie. He had always made allowances for that. Now the truth of his words hung in the air like a bad smell. ‘Looks as though you had a wasted journey,’ he said into the silence. He looked at the cigarette, wishing he hadn’t taken it.
‘You make it sound as ridiculous as it is,’ said Ralph suddenly, catching his eye. But yes. I worry about him, that’s all. He never mentions you but I know he thinks of you.’ Ralph paused. ‘Well, I feel sure he does. Only that I made him a promise and I meant it.’
‘There was no need to promise anything to him on my account, if that’s what it was.’
‘It wasn’t on your account, not exactly. It was a promise not to be jealous of you.’
‘Impossible to make that guarantee, I would imagine,’ said Andrew. Suddenly he thought that Ralph might take this as a challenge instead of a simple statement of fact, ‘I only meant . . .‘ he began,
‘It doesn’t matter what you meant. You are perfectly right of course.’ Ralph said quietly. He paused, then chuckled softly to himself.
‘But I wouldn’t want you to think – ‘
‘Then I won’t.’
Andrew could feel the smile in his voice. He knows how to end a conversation his way, he thought, with a perfectly executed drop-shot. It only made him want to fill the silence. He began to wonder how long they would be down there and what other conversation they could make. The thought occurred to him that Ralph might be as ill-prepared as he was. If he had expected something so very different.
‘You know him so well,’ said Ralph at length, apparently deep in thought, ‘But of course you do. You know more than you let on, don’t you?’
The weight of the words descended on Andrew like a bank of fog, and suddenly he was groping, not for an answer exactly, but for sight of something solid on the horizon. This man was no more real to him than the other, he reminded himself. Not in any meaningful way. His polish, his gentleness, were not reassuring. Or perhaps it was that the effort to reassure was unsettling.
‘Well, that’s what they always say, isn’t it?’ he found himself saying,
‘Is it?’
‘”You know,” they say, as though that makes it all right. “You knew what you are doing.” Or “We both know what this is,” or, “Why are you pretending to be shocked?“ That’s what your friend said, as a matter of fact.’
‘My friend?’
‘Well, wasn’t he? At least at one time. To know how to impersonate you,’ the words came easily when they were directed onto the dingy, damp earth below him, ‘If people made an assumption about me because of my religion or my being a CO, that is their business, but I never played up to it. We’ve both been to school, haven’t we? Hospital is not that different. Well of course, you’ve been there too. We are all a bit like children in those places, only this time it was secret assignations in the ward kitchen instead of the prefect’s study or a corner of the library. At first I told myself I must just like him because he saw me as a person. You must have noticed, it takes time with him to know if he is just being polite. Once we got over that I wasn’t going to risk it for anything in the world. If you’re asking if I knew, of course I knew, about myself. That’s what you mean isn’t it?’ he took care not to look up, ‘But I never thought myself anything special. I just assumed others were better at hiding it. Or exploiting it. But when I met him none of that mattered. He was all that mattered. It made me realise how futile all my worries had been. What a pointless waste of energy to try and define something that hadn’t even come into existence yet. But suddenly the world crashes in and demands an explanation, and then…..’ unconsciously his open hand was closing into a fist. He noticed Ralph staring at it. ‘But at least I know now,’ he said, ‘Because of you. Strange isn’t it? But just because I turned out to be wrong about the way he felt - ’
‘Wrong?’
‘It doesn’t change how I feel,’ His voice wavered slightly on the last word. There was a long silence. He watched his cigarette burning slowly, unable for the moment to lift it to his lips in case it betrayed him.
At length, Ralph said, ‘Were you referring to me?’
‘When?’
‘Demanding an explanation?’
‘No. Why would you think that?’
‘I’ve no right to that.’
‘I know.’ Andrew suddenly found himself able to attend to his cigarette.
‘And as for – my friend as you insist on calling him, that had nothing to do with anyone but himself. He, in point of fact, knew exactly what he was doing. You can trust me on that.’
‘Of course. Playing bait the conchie is a national sport. I used to do quite well at it.’
‘Well, I finished what you started. I enjoyed it and I’m not afraid to say so, he had it coming. For all kinds of reasons. I suppose you’ll just have to live with that.’
‘Why, did you kill him?’
Ralph burst into laughter. Andrew smiled in relief, feeling a little foolish.
‘Some broken ribs and near-fatal damage to his pride, that’s all. You’re a strange one.’
They smoked in silence, the pressure momentarily eased. Just as he began to feel again the weight of something unsaid between them, Ralph began slowly and methodically to question him about his work, quickly finding out some common ground and, while not exactly feigning interest, pursuing it with the kind of practised conversation that reminded Andrew that in his career he must have spent many hours making conversation with strangers of all kinds. He reminded him a little of his late uncle, eager to please, to do the right thing, with a sort of befuddled kindness. Andrew drew in a little closer, and Ralph continued to talk, weaving a blanket of warmth and comfort around them that he could recognise as kindness, and he too participated only with part of his mind, the rest silently reflecting. It was only afterwards that he realised he had learnt almost nothing about Ralph beyond what he already knew or could guess.
‘Will you have to rush off?’ said Andrew when the All Clear sounded, ‘Only there is something I’d like to give you.’ Ralph glanced at this watch, and gave a look which suggested he was behind on more than one errand, and a few minutes more would make no difference now.
They made their way back to the kitchen and Andrew put some coffee on the hob while he went upstairs. He had forgotten to pause and give silent thanks on the way up from the cellar, so he stood now, bringing to mind the darkening sky, the pavement outside, the mottled collection of rooves in various states of repair stretching towards the horizon. Momentarily, he wondered if he was pausing too long now, to avoid this other task. After the initial impetus of a decision made, he was faltering again. He got out the little box of keepsakes and reached for the book which he had placed there without ever reading it. He knelt, holding it, and pressed his hands together either side of it, tightly, for a moment.
Ralph had poured out the coffee for both of them by the time he got down. Andrew slid the book over to him. Seeing his apparent incomprehension, he added,
‘He gave it to me, but I have no use for it. It was kind of him, more than just a gesture, I know that, but, it would feel too personal, like reading a diary. He was so secretive about it.’
As he spoke, Ralph was only staring, moving the remains of his left hand over the cover as though the blood was still wet.
‘For months I thought he was dead.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Ralph tore his eyes away from the book to look up in acknowledgement. After a pause he said,
‘This book was a second bible to me. Why are you smiling?’
‘I’m imagining you as a sort of Graecophile William Tyndale.’
‘That’s….that’s rather an apt description. I was always aware that my religious upbringing was a little eccentric. Perhaps we have that in common?’
‘I suppose we might. When your mother brings you up as a Quaker in a standard issue C of E family, it changes things. I’d never thought of it. All I know is that I had to stand up for it when I least expected to have to. It was a bit like a conversion.’
‘With all the zeal that goes with it?’ ventured Ralph,
‘I sincerely hope not. Awful word. Brings up all sorts of dreadful connotations, don’t you think?’
‘Oh yes.’ Ralph smiled to himself.
‘We don’t proselytise.’
‘We did. It’s a hard habit to shake. One gets to the point where one believes one’s own publicity. I’m rather envious of people who can be normal about religion. I do a passable impression of it out there, but, really I . . . ‘
‘Well, I could bore for England on the subject,’ said Andrew, seeing Ralph dry up, ‘but I’m not sure if that counts as normal either.’
After some time, Ralph pushed the book back towards him and said, ‘I couldn’t take it from you. I’m sorry. Too many memories.’
Andrew perched on the table and they both stared at it. He remembered the moment when Dave had caught him alone to speak to, thinking he recognised the book in his hand, realising too late what it meant. ‘You know,’ he said, picking it up, ‘if this were the Middle Ages, and he were a saint, the two of us would be fighting over it. We’d want to pare off every last bit of bloodstained paper and store it in a little casket, as a relic.’
Ralph snorted. ‘Well, my dear, relics are rather last century,’ he said, staring at the battered little book.
‘Then let’s give it a decent burial instead.’
The words were scarcely out of his mouth before Andrew was up and moving towards the fire where he tossed the book in, watching the flame turn momentarily bright yellow with the salt now embedded in the cover. He suddenly remembered that his name was inscribed on the title page, now unseen, the reason he had always found himself unable to turn the pages any further, and set his face, forcing himself to imagine it now burning away with the rest of the book. When the pages were sufficiently charred he grabbed the poker and carefully crushed it to invisibility.
After a time he felt a hand pull gently at his arm. ‘Come away from the fire,’ Ralph was saying, ‘you look half-singed.’ Andrew went to the sink and washed his face in the cold water until it was numb, pulling up the front of his shirt to dry it.
As he turned, Ralph said, ‘Come and sit down. You look done in.’
Andrew sat down, conscious that Ralph was looking at him intently. Whatever profound words of comfort were forming in his mind, he seemed unable to express them. Only small digestible truisms came out, to which Andrew could not find the easy replies he felt were expected. After a long silence, he said, ‘What I said earlier. I didn’t mean to say it, it was unkind.’
‘Don’t be silly. When did you say anything unkind?’
‘About giving us your blessing.’
‘Don’t you think I deserved a ribbing?’ said Ralph, smiling,
‘I wasn’t ribbing you. I meant, I was wrong to say it the way I did. It was a cheap shot.’
‘Oh, I see.’
‘And now look at us. Neither of us can even mention his name. As though it will incriminate us,’
‘That’s a big word,’
‘But you understand what I mean, don’t you?’
‘We all feel it at times. But sometimes you have to be practical. You know you can trust me, don’t you?’
‘It’s just that I would like to write to him.’
‘So you should. I’m glad.’
‘I would have to tell him the truth.’
‘About what?’
‘About your coming here.’
‘And? So what if you did?’
‘Wouldn’t you be worried?
‘Why?
‘That he would be angry with you for interfering.’
Ralph laughed, a little nervously, ‘Why, what kind of review are you going to give me?’
‘It wouldn’t matter what I said. But to leave you out of it would – ‘
‘Well if you want to know the truth, Andrew, I think you are being overly precious about the whole thing. Life doesn’t work like that. Perhaps when you’re older you’ll understand that sometimes you have to get your hands dirty.’
He is asking me to get my hands dirty so that he can keep his clean, thought Andrew. But suddenly he saw Ralph’s face in the harsh light as it must have been all along, worn down with worry. The words were only cover. He reached out a hand to his arm and said, ‘I’m glad we met.’
‘Anyway, it’s more important that he is all right.’ Ralph was writing on a notepad, like a Doctor handing out a prescription, and gave the torn off piece of paper to Andrew. It was his BFPO address, with Laurie’s underneath. He pushed it over with a disarming smile and an admonishment not to ‘cremate it’ straightaway.
Andrew watched him rise, put on his gloves, cap and coat, and stretch out a hand. As soon as he took it, Ralph converted the handshake to a silent, still, embrace which Andrew returned.
‘Thank you for the shelter,’ he said at last.
‘Sorry I didn’t give you a warmer welcome.’
‘No apology needed, believe me. God bless.’
‘God bless.’
Andrew closed the door behind him gently, and listened to the sounds of his footsteps on the pavement fading until he could no longer tell if there was any sound at all.