Draca. Geoffrey Gudgion
come and join us. ’ Harry had spotted the three of them still up on the lawn. He crouched in the water, his arms lying on the surface, shoulders glistening. There was an edge to the words that made them a command, not an invitation.
Jack shook his head, pulling back. Charlotte ’ s hand came up and touched his shoulder in the first act of intimacy George had seen between them.
‘ Some other day, perhaps. ’
His mother hurried down the steps to the pool deck, clasping an armload of towels. ‘ You ’ ve still got your old swimming shorts upstairs, love. ’
‘ No thanks, Mum. ’
Harry ’ s hand smacked the surface, making a small splash of irritation. ‘ Get in here, both of you. Let ’ s be a family, for once. ’ His smile hardened. Harry Ahlquist didn ’ t like to be refused.
‘ I ’ d rather not. ’
Tilly turned, standing belly-deep with a child in the crook of her arm, squashing it against a struggling bikini. Her eyes were on Charlotte , even though she spoke to her father.
‘ Leave them, Dad, if they think they ’ re too good for us. ’
Charlotte tugged at Jack ’ s sleeve while Jack and Harry glared at each other.
‘ Time to go, darling. We need to run George home. ’
Harry ’ s jaw tightened so that small cords of muscle appeared in his cheeks. ‘ Bit stuck up for us, are you? ’
‘ Bye, Dad. ’ Jack turned away.
‘ Too snooty, eh? So what ’ s different about you? ’
‘ Yeah, Jack, what ’ s different? ’ The sunlight turned the glare around Tilly into an acid green.
Jack froze, and took one deep breath with his nostrils flaring before spinning round and lurching down the steps to the poolside. Charlotte rushed after him, reaching out a hand to restrain him . ‘ No, Jack! ’ But the shirt she tried to grab was already being pulled over his head.
‘ What ’ s different, eh? ’ The shirt landed in the hedge. The tension across Jack ’ s shoulders twisted into wires up his neck, tight as a boat ’ s backstay. He bent over, and a shoe spun through the air to clatter against a table.
‘ Don ’ t, Jack. ’ Charlotte put her arm across his back , but he shrugged her off and almost fell over as he slipped off the other shoe. ‘ Jack, not like this! ’
She was shouting, but Jack ignored her.
‘ What ’ s different, you ask? ’ He pushed his trousers down below his knees and George tensed, wondering what the feck was happening. She gasped when he kicked out of them to stand in his boxer shorts, hands gripped into fists at his side. ‘ That ’ s what ’ s different. Now back off . ’
On the far side of the pool, Jack ’ s mother screamed and raised both hands to her mouth, dropping her armload. A blue- striped beach towel slipped off the tumbled mass and unrolled itself into the water. The party noise faded. Even the children shut up, and looked at the adults, but the adults were all looking at Jack.
His right leg was normal. Muscular. Hairy. Toned. So was his left, down to the knee. The knee itself and the top of the calf was a mess of white scar tissue, like melted candle wax, and the calf ended in a stump and the thin, shiny, metal shaft of an artificial limb. The foot still wore its sock and looked the proper shape, but was too big for the spindly stick above it. Jack ’ s mother sank onto a plastic seat, hands still at her mouth, weeping noisily with her eyes locked on the leg. Harry just stared, his mouth slack.
‘ Badly done, Jack. ’ Charlotte retrieved a shoe from under a table, and pulled Jack ’ s shirt out of the hedge. She pushed it into his chest and grabbed his arm to turn him towards the steps. ‘ Badly done. ’
IV: HARRY
Harry Ahlquist went to Eddie ’ s cottage straight after breakfast. The wife insisted. Said he had to talk before they lost their son for ever. He ’ d tried Jack ’ s mobile all evening, after the funeral, but Jack hadn ’ t answered. ‘ They ’ ll be staying at Eddie ’ s cottage ’ , the wife said. ‘ Forget the office . Get down there and talk to him. And take that ugly bit of wood with you while you ’ re about it. ’
She had every right to be upset. So was Harry. Upset and angry. What the hell had been going through Jack ’ s head, to lose a foot and not tell them? It was humiliating to find out that way, in front of everyone.
The Slut opened the door and they stared at each other without speaking. He ’ d hoped she ’ d have gone back to their apartment. Then her eyes dropped to the bundle in his arms. It must have looked a bit strange, still wrapped in a rug.
‘ Is that a weapon or a peace offering? ’
‘ Old Eddie ’ s carving. Jack left it behind. ’
‘ You ’ d better come in. ’ She stood aside, inviting him into his own father ’ s house, where she was slumming around in a loose shirt and no bra. ‘ Jack ’ s upstairs. I ’ ll call him. ’
For a moment he stood in the front room, staring at used glasses and a nearly empty bottle of whisky, but there was no way she was going to make him feel like a guest in that house, so he walked through the kitchen into the garden, sniffing at the sight of dirty dishes piled in the sink, and at the litter of takeaway wrappers on the counter. Just like he thought : she was a slut.
He parked Old Eddie ’ s dragon on the outside table and sat there until she came out with a pot of filter coffee and two mugs.
‘ He ’ s coming. I ’ ll leave you two to talk. ’ She sounded like a stuck-up receptionist.
Jack looked a mess : bloodshot eyes that blinked at the sunshine, unshaven, pasty skin, shirt hanging open. He was wearing chinos and high-ankle, soft boots, and Harry really couldn ’ t tell, apart from the limp. They stared at each other across the table.
‘ If you ’ ve come to shout, I ’ m feeling a bit fragile this morning. ’
That hurt. ‘ I ’ ve come to talk, not shout. I ’ d like, ’ Harry swallowed . ‘ W e ’ d like to understand. ’
‘ I need coffee. ’ Jack swung his leg over the bench, and the sock on his false foot was loose and floppy above the ankle, too big for the shaft. For a moment , Harry was too choked to speak.
‘ Look, I ’ m sorry I did that with Mum there. ’ The boy gabbled out an apology, talking too fast in a voice that was gravelly and hung- over. ‘ I just lost it. Far too bloody theatrical. I made a fool of myself and I feel really bad about Mum. ’ He poured coffee and held one mug close to his face with both hands, blinking across it.
‘ Why hadn ’ t you told us, man? ’
Jack blew steam off his coffee and said nothing.
‘ We ’ d have helped, we ’ d have been there for you … ’
‘ Would you? ’ Jack ’ s eyes snapped up as he cut Harry off. ‘ Like you were “ there for me ” at my wedding? ’
‘ That ’ s different. ’
‘ Is it? If you won ’ t be there for the good times, I ’ m hardly likely to go running to you in the bad times. ’
‘ She ’ s wrong for you, Jack. ’ Harry regretted saying that as soon as he spoke. He always seemed to say the wrong thing with Jack, and this wasn ’ t going how he ’ d planned.
‘ Don ’ t you think that ’ s for me to decide? ’
Harry swallowed, wondering how to dig his way out. He ’ d come to mend things, not make them worse.
‘ I wanted