Chapter 26
The Christmas Eve hash was going down a treat.
‘Perfect sprouts, Frank,’ Roo threw across the table.
‘I’ve had worse compliments.’ Frank winked at her and made her laugh.
‘What you been doing while we was busy decorating the tree?’ Vincent asked her. ‘Did you have a lie down like you said?’
‘No. I was writing some poetry,’ said Roo. And crying, she didn’t add. The poem was as raw and exposed as the Santa one she’d started, although she’d scrapped that one now that she and Tim were on a cordial footing.
Once you were my Christmas parcel
Now you’re just my Christmas arsehole
And despite the knobhead words I’ve spoken
I miss you, A, my heart is broken
It hadn’t been cathartic attempting to put her feelings down on paper, it just brought it all back, highlighted how much she hurt, how lonely she felt and she’d stopped writing and wept hard into her pillow instead.
Then she’d washed her face and put some make-up on because she didn’t want to have swollen eyes and have everyone ask her what was up.
She’d gone to the lounge for some company but there was no one in there except the radio playing a quirky song called ‘All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth’ and it had both cheered her up and given her an idea.
‘Are you going to give us a burst?’ asked Frank.
‘Well… maybe. Actually, I’ve been thinking. What about tomorrow… we have a talent competition,’ said Roo.
The idea was met with less reaction than she hoped for.
‘There’s a problem there, gel, I ain’t got any talents,’ Vincent replied.
‘Yes, you have,’ Roo insisted. ‘Everyone has. It’s not an audition for BGT, it would just be us passing a bit of time. It’ll be fun, even if you’re crap. As I’m sure you will be.’
‘Just for that, I’m going to show you.’ Vincent wagged his finger at her and matched her grin.
She had a surprise ally in Tim, who backed her up.
‘I can contribute.’ He was going to tell them all what he’d been reading about but it would make a novelty act. Especially if he dressed up as Santa for the occasion as well. Shame to waste his costume.
‘Grace can fold towels into the shape of any animal you can think of,’ said Frank. He hadn’t spoken to his wife since earlier, but for appearances’ sake, he would keep up the facade of them being a couple, even if he wasn’t sure if they would be by the time they disembarked.
‘That’s a bit of an exaggeration. I can do a swan and—’
‘Don’t tell us,’ said Roo, shushing her. ‘Save it for tomorrow.’
‘I suppose I could tell some jokes,’ Vincent thought aloud. ‘But don’t be expecting to laugh.’
‘I wasn’t,’ replied Roo cheekily, then she turned to her side. ‘Elizabeth?’
‘I have a party piece.’ Dare I though? she thought to herself, feeling a quiver of excitement in her stomach.
‘Well, I have something I can share with you all as my act. It might change your life,’ said Jane, smiling enigmatically, which raised a chorus of Ooohs.
‘I’ll do a bit of magic,’ said Frank. ‘If I can remember. Might have to brush up before tomorrow.’
He’d learned the tricks his dad used to do on him and in turn he’d fascinated Billy and his friends.
And then he’d taught Billy so that one day he could do them for his kids, but he’d died before his daughter had drawn her first breath.
So he would be the one to show them to his granddaughter.
If he had a choice to make, he’d made it that afternoon.
‘That leaves you then, John,’ said Vincent, clearing his mouth of a gravy-soaked piece of potato. ‘You going to give us a talk about some of the prisoners you have to deal with inside?’
From the side, their newest addition felt Jane’s eyes on him.
‘Well…’ he began, then swallowed. ‘There’s something I have to tell you about that.’
‘… and that’s the truth and the whole truth.’
Henry Smith looked up to find every eye in the room fixed upon him.
There was a wake of silence after his last word until Tim broke it by saying, ‘I did suspect something was amiss if I’m honest. The boots, the coat.
I mean, I know the country’s fuc—… in a bad way, but I didn’t think things were quite so bad that prison officers had to walk around in boots five sizes too big. ’
He also didn’t say that for a man at only thirty, Henry Smith looked at least ten years older. He had the face of someone who had lived a much harder life than a prison guard.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth before,’ said Henry, as they had to think of him now.
‘I’m not a good liar, I was surprised I got away with it for as long as I did.
I didn’t want to scare anyone. I mean – escaped convict…
that’s not threatening at all, is it? And I can’t prove any of what I’m telling you but I am a Christian and I’ll swear on the Bible if you want me to. But I would say that, wouldn’t I?’
Henry’s brow creased. He really wasn’t doing a great job of convincing them.
‘I won’t mind if you all lock your cabins tonight.’
‘Blimey,’ said Vincent eventually. ‘I didn’t twig. I must be thick.’
‘Or trusting,’ said Elizabeth. ‘There are worse qualities to have than seeing the best in people.’
‘I can understand why you didn’t want to share a cabin now,’ said Tim. ‘I’m guessing you would feel like you were sharing a cell, albeit a rather grand one.’
‘Aye, that’s it, Tim. Trust me, it wasn’t the prospect of your snoring and I did hear it the first night when I was looking around.
My cell-mate would put you to shame in that respect so I’ve learned to switch off.
But I realise I’m telling you quite the tale and if you want to keep me shut in one of the end rooms away from you all, I won’t feel offended. ’
Frank prided himself on being a good judge of character. He wasn’t taken in much, he’d been around too many years, seen it all and more. And he didn’t write people off for their past mistakes. He’d witnessed what changes the power of kindness was capable of.
‘You jokin’? Locking you up with the food?’ he exclaimed. ‘You’d do it all in one night. You went through the fridge like a herd of bleedin’ locusts. I think the safest place for you is in the middle of us, son.’
Henry smiled and dropped his head, suddenly upset, humbled by their benevolence.
He was wearing a shirt of Frank’s and a pair of Vincent’s underpants and tracksuit bottoms, plus his socks and Roo had given him a pair of hers as well as a spare.
When Jane had first challenged him, having worked out his identity, she had been ready to tell the others who he was.
But the more they sat and conversed, the more she thought it would be better coming from him; it was his truth to share, after all.
‘You have no idea how much relief I feel for you knowing.’ Henry pressed his chest as if to indicate the lightness there, a burden removed.
‘I suggest you enjoy this time while you have it,’ Tim said. ‘We will fortify you with good food and company and anything we can help you with for what lies ahead.’
‘Thank you,’ said Henry, drowning the rise of his emotion with a large gulp of red wine. It couldn’t have tasted better if Jesus himself had turned it from water.
Every plate was cleared, which Frank took as a great compliment.
Even Grace’s – and hash wasn’t her favourite and he found himself trying to read some meaning into that.
Once upon a time his wife’s feelings sat on her sleeves, but they had been driven deep underground this past five years.
He had to work out what was going on in her head through a series of cryptic clues and he was exhausted by it, at the end of it all now.
For the first time he let in the thought that he would have to consider the logistics of them splitting up.
But when they sold the pub, he knew he would be staying in Norfolk near to his granddaughter.
As the others gathered up the plates and brought them through to the galley, Frank arranged a box full of mince pies onto a plate and stirred some brandy into a jug of cream.
They were fresh, from a farm shop according to the label, so they needed eating sooner rather than later to taste at their best.
‘Ooh, Frank, mince pies.’ Roo drooled.
‘You might be disappointed, love, there’s no sprouts in them.’
‘You bake them yourself, Frank, in between peeling all the spuds?’ asked Vincent, grinning.
‘Yep,’ Frank joked. ‘I tell you, kneading that pastry doesn’t half get all the dirt out from underneath your fingernails.’
Roo pulled a face. ‘Gross, Frank. I’m only having three now after you’ve told me that.’
She admonished herself for trying too hard. She was forcing herself to be jolly while in the background her thoughts were running on one track and one track only and she was fighting them from taking over her head.
They’ll be husband and wife by now, drinking a glass of champagne, toasting their first day as a married couple, Mr and Mrs Aaron Ewerin.
They’d have done it somehow. The church was within a walkable distance, the vicar lived next door to it. They’d have scraped two witnesses together from somewhere. Amber wants to be married before the baby’s showing too much. And what Amber wanted, Amber fucking got.
Roo reached for a mince pie and then a glug of wine and dried to drown the visions of her one-time best mate and her soft swelling bump, Aaron’s hand lovingly laid on it.
She knew it wouldn’t work though because she’d drunk harder and longer than this over the past weeks only to find those masochistic head pictures had a habit of floating like a polystyrene Michael Phelps.