Chapter 16 #2
Grace could hear Frank singing as soon as she entered the coach named ‘Old Tom’: ‘I Wish it Could be Christmas Every Day…’ He had a voice like a foghorn.
Billy had inherited his father’s tone-deafness and it had been Frank who went into school to have a quiet word with the music teacher and tell her that their son might not be able to hold a note with a pitchfork, but ridiculing him about it, making him feel bad about what he couldn’t do when she could have been praising him for what he could do – i.e.
knock the spots off anyone playing the guitar – was not good teaching.
Frank never shouted. His quiet, gentle, husky tone got where shouting never could and he’d still managed to eviscerate that teacher more than any raging parent had before.
Grace had never heard him raise his voice in all the years they’d been together, even when she’d been screaming like a harpy at him, blaming him.
‘Morning, love,’ he said on seeing her framed in the doorway. She thought he might have given her the kiss he hadn’t given her last night, but he didn’t. He just carried on beating up eggs.
‘The others said something about someone having a midnight feast – that right?’
‘Yeah, get this. Some scruffy bleeder attacked the food in the fridge. Every one of them with a poker face though. I can’t work it out. Something funny’s going on in this train.’
‘Well, it wasn’t me.’
‘Love, I know even if you were starving, you wouldn’t sink your choppers into a pork pie. I had your back.’
‘Thank you.’
He was a good man, he’d always have her back and he loved her, Grace knew that. They’d been so happy but she knew that they never would be again. She was going through the motions of her marriage, waiting for him to tell her it was over because she wasn’t brave enough to do it herself.
‘Sleep well?’
‘Yes, the beds were lovely, weren’t they?’
‘We should sell up the inn and buy our own train, Gracie. What do you think?’
She humphed. ‘Another wild idea of yours?’ God, she really couldn’t stop herself. The needle always poised, waiting for a passing balloon.
‘I was… only joking, you know. As if we could buy a train.’
‘Yes, sorry, I know you were.’
She’d wiped the smile off his face though. He carried on beating, but no longer singing.
‘I’ll go and lay the table,’ she said, opening the drawer, taking out the cutlery.
Hiding underneath a midnight-blue cover in the top corner of the dining area, Elizabeth had discovered a large shiny brass bell on a stand.
To summon diners, she guessed. She wasn’t sure Tim would hear it as he’d wandered off to check out the books in the end carriage, ‘Maria Gloriosa’, but still she pulled the chain and rang it anyway and shouted ‘Breakfast is served’ like the ancient butler who was part of the Topston staff.
He was way past the age of retirement but soldiered on and would most likely drop on the job.
Her in-laws would probably have him stuffed like they had all the animals they’d hunted and killed and then mounted on the walls.
When she became mistress of the manor, Elizabeth would tear them down and give them a decent burial.
Country life to her meant judging jam competitions and making sure people who lived in the estate cottages were fine.
She would draw the line at slaughtering innocent creatures and Gregory wouldn’t convince her otherwise.
She remembered having the conversation with him when they had first started courting and he’d told her that any wife of his would have to immerse herself in all the family traditions whenever they were at Topston.
‘Silly, kind girl,’ he’d called her then when she’d told him why she wouldn’t and smiled as he’d touched her nose.
Fast forward to a recent conversation when he said, There are two types of people in the world, Elizabeth, those who hunt and oversentimental idiots.
‘Roo, can you give Tim a shout, please?’ asked Frank. ‘He won’t have heard the bell down in “Maria Gloriosa”.’ He deliberately infused the coach name with his thickest Estuary accent for comic effect.
‘No problem,’ she said, wondering if Tim would thank her for summoning him. She’d risk her non-existent life savings on the answer to that one.
She found him reading in the quiet of the carriage. A big heavy tome that nevertheless looked small in his giant hands.
‘Breakfast is served,’ she said when he looked up.
He didn’t say anything by way of response as he stood. She’d had enough of his twattiness now. Especially because she was the only one to whom he seemed to direct it.
‘Thank you, don’t mention it,’ she snapped loudly.
‘Pardon?’ The cheek of him to look affronted.
‘I said, thank you, don’t mention it.’ She threw up her hands.
‘Do you have a problem with me, Tim? Have I done something to offend you? Only it seems as if you have a decent word for everyone but me and I’m pretty sure I haven’t been in the slightest bit rude to you to warrant you being a—’ She didn’t say the word, but it was quite obvious if it wasn’t ‘dick’ it was akin to it.
It annoyed her even more that he had the nerve to stand there with his features arranged in a smacked arse formation. And today really wasn’t the day for him to be pushing any of her buttons.
‘Yes, you,’ she said, as he then had the cheek to turn slightly as if she might be addressing someone behind him instead.
‘I really hope that the kids you were going to entertain today would have got to see you less… wankery…’ Oops, bit far, said a voice inside her but she told it to shut up because all bets were presently off.
‘It’s bad enough me being here without having to wonder what I’ve done to piss off Father sodding Christmas.
I mean, he was never a pal of mine in the first place.
When I was a kid, I was always on his bloody naughty list without him giving me a single clue what I’d done to end up on it, so I’d really like to be spared the head fuck of all that palaver again now I’m an adult.
’ She stopped, took a deep breath and recalibrated.
‘Anyway, Tim’—she said the name as if it sat on her tongue like a handful of salt—‘your breakfast is ready. You’re welcome.’
She spun a perfect one hundred and eighty degrees and grabbed the door handle, but Tim’s boom of a voice arrested her.
‘I’m sorry, it’s just… you remind me of someone.’
She looked back at him, bit off the temptation to say something sarcastic.
‘My daughter,’ Tim went on. ‘You remind me of my daughter.’
‘Hate her, do you?’ Roo opened the door, moved through it.
‘You couldn’t be more wrong,’ said Tim to her wake.
‘Well, isn’t this lovely?’ said Elizabeth, taking some toast and butter from the plates of breakfast feast Frank had prepared. ‘I mean, give or take the acropolis happening outside.’
‘Acropolis?’ questioned Roo. ‘Have we ended up in Greece?’
Elizabeth laughed, and her laugh was like a bell, a tinkly, shiny bell full of joy and the sound of it penetrated Vincent’s chest like an arrow. That’s all it took, he would remember later. That laugh after getting the word wrong for everything inside him to shift, change, open.
‘Oh goodness, what do I mean?’ Elizabeth said, appealing to everyone around her. ‘Help.’
‘Akrapovi?,’ suggested Frank, his grin lop-sided.
‘Nooo. Oh my lord, what is the word? Acrop… no, that’s what I’ve just said.’
‘Abramovich?’ Vincent nudged her shoulder with his own.
‘Stop it, Vincent.’
His name in her mouth. Why did it taste like a sweet?
‘Ibrahimovi??’
‘Oh Jane, I expected you to be on my side.’ Elizabeth wagged her finger at the old lady. Elizabeth’s laughter, thought Jane. Another glimmer, such a beautiful pure sound.
‘Djokovic,’ said Tim, joining in as he took the only unoccupied seat, opposite Roo who blanked him.
‘Stop it, you rotten lot.’ Elizabeth tapped her head, hoping to dislodge the word from a shelf in it. ‘Ac… Ap… Apo…’
‘Apoplexy?’ Frank chuckled.
‘Apocalyse.’ Elizabeth beamed triumphantly. She tried not to spoil the moment by imagining Gregory across the table rolling his eyes at her. She blinked the vision away.
‘I’ve forgotten now why I even said what I did.’
‘You were talking about what was happening outside,’ Jane reminded her. ‘Intimating that maybe it’s the end of the world.’
‘Oh lord, I hope not,’ said Frank. ‘I’ve got a delivery of beer coming in a few days.
I’m supposed to be trialling an open mike night for New Year.
’ Another of his schemes, ‘a wild idea’ as Grace put it.
He was going to do it anyway despite her misgivings, providing they got out of here alive, of course.
There was nothing like it in the area and he wanted to pull in some young people to bring some cheer and life to the place.
Grace didn’t want him to set up another gym, teaching people to fight, but he didn’t think she’d object to him wanting to make them laugh.
He’d been hurt then that she’d derided his brainchild. But this time, she wouldn’t stop him.
‘That sounds fun,’ said Roo.
‘I thought so.’ He didn’t look across at Grace, he didn’t want to register any scorn in her expression. ‘The world needs more laughter. I would like to be instrumental in bringing a bit more to our little corner of Norfolk.’
‘I always wanted to be a stand-up comedian,’ said Roo. ‘My careers teacher said that was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. And not in a good way.’
Frank tutted. ‘Teachers can do a lot of damage to a kid.’
‘And they can do a lot of healing too,’ said Tim. ‘My daughter’s a teacher. One of the good ones. She cares about them.’
Roo piled some scrambled eggs onto her toast while thinking, Was this the daughter she reminded Tim of then? Didn’t sound like it really. He’d have been nice to her if that was the case; he must have another whom he couldn’t stand the sight of.