Jamrach's Menagerie (38 page)

Til I ended up on Fournier Street, searching for her door.

Sadly unnumbered some of these houses were. She had a black door at the side of a cooper’s yard, with three steps up to it and a poster in the downstairs window for tonight’s show at the Gunboat. Ishbel opened the door. Dressed in black, bright brown eyes, pale face, fair hair pinned back behind her ears. A glance and then I couldn’t meet her eyes any more and looked slightly to one side.

‘I wondered when you’d come,’ she said.

‘Hel o, Ish.’

She stepped forward and embraced me formal y, her silky cheek one moment against my new stubble. Dear God, let me not be a fool. She used to be tal er than me. We’ve evened out. When she steps back I see that I am actual y three inches or so above her and she’s wearing heeled boots. She’s changed. Is it the simple black making her more stately than before? What is she to me now? I have no idea.

‘Wel , look at
you
,’ she said, ‘you’ve grown up.’

‘So’ve you.’

She led me along a dark hal and into a room at the side.

‘I hear you’re in service.’

‘That’s true.’ She looked over her shoulder. ‘Mr Jamrach found me a position in Clerkenwel .’

‘Do you like it?’

She shrugged, opening a door.

It was grander than the old place, high-ceilinged and bow-fronted, with a large fuchsia plant in a white pot in the bay, a fine black range covering one wal , and polished brasses about the fireplace. Mrs Linver sat in a rocking chair with her slippered feet up on the fender.

‘Look who’s come to see us,’ Ishbel said cheerful y.

Mrs Linver jumped to her feet and stared. A tortured bal of handkerchief fel to the floor. ‘How dare you come back without him!’ she cried.

‘Don’t be stupid, Mother,’ Ishbel said, ‘it’s not Jaffy’s fault.’

‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Linver,’ I whispered. I couldn’t stand this.

‘I’m so, so sorry.’

‘Sit down, Jaffy.’ Ishbel pushed me into a chair. ‘I’l make some tea,’ and she was gone.

Her mother took a few frantic steps towards me with her hands clenched hard down by her sides. Raddled, she looked. Dark hol ows in her face. She stopped, shaking, a foot or so from me, then fel to one knee in front of me, the better to look in my face. It was a terrible thing to look in her eyes. ‘I know it’s not your fault, Jaffy,’ she said urgently. ‘I know it real y, but it’s just a very very hard thing.’

My eyes burned.

‘It’s a very hard thing,’ she repeated, staring.

I felt as if my head would burst, tried to speak, but found my throat blocked.

‘There, that’l be ready soon,’ said Ishbel, coming in and drawing up a smal table, pul ing her mother to her feet, thrusting her back into her chair and handing her the dropped handkerchief, al , it seemed, in one continuous movement. Every inch of her, every movement was familiar yet profoundly different, the reality of her more dreamlike than her memory.

‘It’s been very hard for our Ishbel,’ Mrs Linver said, stil looking at me. ‘She’s had to take her father’s place, you know, real y. What with her brother gone. We’re so grateful to Mr Jamrach for finding her such a good position.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Ishbel drew up her own chair and perched there very stiff and straight like a lady, with her hands in her lap. A woman’s bosom had replaced the two smal lemon-shaped breasts I remembered. Her hands were as bad as ever, and I watched fascinated as they picked at and played with each other. ‘Strangely enough,’ she said, ‘we’re not doing too bad. How’s your ma, Jaf?’

‘She’s wel ,’ I said. ‘Have to say though, I got a bit of a shock when I saw this sprog sitting there.’

‘Oh yes.’ She smiled. ‘We thought about that. Little David.

Sweet, isn’t he? He reminds me of you.’

I chanced a look, but she was watching her mother.

‘So tel us then, Jaffy,’ Mrs Linver said, sitting forward, ‘tel us what you have to tel us.’

‘Mother, leave him,’ she said in a strained voice. ‘Let him have his tea at least.’

‘It’s al right,’ I said, ‘I don’t mind tel ing you anything, only it’s hard for me to talk about. You must understand.’

‘Of course,’ said Ishbel.

‘I just want to know,’ his mother said, ‘that he didn’t have too terrible a time, and I want to know if it was quickly over.

You know. At the end. That’s al I want to know. And I want you to tel me the truth.’

‘He went before the worst,’ I said. ‘I’d be lying if I said there was no suffering; there was, for al , but he went before the worst.’

There was a long and painful silence. I couldn’t look at them.

‘They said it was his idea to draw lots,’ his mother said.

‘It was. But we al agreed.’

I raised my eyes. Both of them were staring at me and the blood sang in my ears.

‘He kept going, you know, Tim,’ I said. ‘I never saw him lose his spirits.’

His mother’s eyes grew huge.

‘He told me to tel you both he was al right. I know it sounds funny, but it’s what he said. Tel them I’m al right.’

Ishbel shrieked, ‘Oh! Idiot!’ and threw her hands up to her face.

‘Said he’s al right and you’re not to worry.’

She was laughing. We al did, for a second.

‘Oh!’ she cried. ‘Ain’t that just like him?’

So there we were, the three of us with tears streaming down our faces.

‘He was steady,’ I said. ‘He real y was. Don’t think I could’ve been so steady. He was …’ My voice gave out.

Mrs Linver blew her nose.

‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Linver,’ I said, and there was nothing I could ever do to make it better. I was here and he was gone, and between us al for ever the shared horror of what had become of him, what I had done. It came back to me stil , the pressure of my finger on the trigger.

Ishbel wiped her cheeks with the palms of both hands. ‘I’l get the tea,’ she said, bobbing up and dashing out. I sat in agony, wanting to run, stiff like a bug in amber.

‘Real y,’ I said, ‘he was very, very brave.’

Sil y words.

Mrs Linver nodded, knitting her brows into jags and turning her face away to look into the fire. The coals shifted. The sounds of people passing in the street came as if from dreamland, echoing like sounds in a shel . For a moment I believed I might faint.

‘That’s a nice plant,’ I said desperately. ‘Does it flower in the summer?’

‘Oh yes, very beautiful,’ Mrs Linver said sadly, ‘lovely pink flowers.’

Ishbel came in with the tea tray, walking backwards as she pushed the door open. I jumped up and took the tray from her. Her face was flushed.

‘Now,’ she said, ‘just put it down there, Jaffy. Thank you.’

Did they expect more of me? Al the things I could tel , the things I have tried so hard not to dwel upon. Could I soon go?

‘Mind you,’ Mrs Linver continued thoughtful y, ‘it’s getting leggy.’

‘What is?’ Ishbel sat down.

‘That plant.’

‘Oh yes, I must give it a trim.’ Ishbel smiled at me brightly as if this was just an ordinary visit. ‘Thanks for coming, Jaffy.’

‘That’s al right.’

‘I can’t imagine how terrible it was for you.’

‘At least he’s here,’ her mother said.

‘Wel , thank God for that.’

Ishbel poured the tea. ‘Did I tel you I was engaged to be married?’ she said, not looking at me. ‘Me? Can you believe it?’ Of course.

‘Real y?’

She handed me a cup.

‘He’s a lighterman,’ she said, ‘works on the Surrey Dock.’

‘Oh! Congratulations!’

‘Thank you.’ She gave her mother a cup and saucer. ‘He’s a good sort, is Frank,’ she said, sitting back down and stirring her tea. I felt like a stone. ‘So what about you, Jaffy?

What wil
you
do now?’

‘Me? I haven’t decided yet.’

‘Oh wel , no rush.’

There was a long silence while we sipped our tea. I had to get out.

‘What’s it like where you are?’ I asked, and my voice came out harsh.

‘Oh, it’l do.’ She set her cup down. ‘That’s too hot.’ She frowned.

‘Hard work?’ I asked.

‘I don’t mind hard work.’ She glanced sideways at me, half smiling. I looked away. ‘Trouble is, it gets very tedious.’

‘Things do.’

The fire hissed.

‘I’m not sure I can see myself keeping onshore,’ I said, surprising myself.

‘Are you mad?’ She laughed.

‘Possibly.’

‘I suppose you’ve every right to be.’ She picked up her tea again and blew on it. ‘Oh, it’s not so bad where I am, but I’l go off my head if I stay too long.’

‘Don’t you dare leave there!’ her mother exploded. ‘How would that look? After Mr Jamrach spoke for you!’

‘Oh, Mr Jamrach knows me,’ Ishbel said airily and turned to me. ‘Do you know, I had a regular slot at the Empire?’

‘Real y?’

‘Real y.’

For a moment our eyes met. There was puzzlement in hers. As for me, I don’t know what she saw.

‘We’ve been ever so wel taken care of,’ Mrs Linver told me, nodding grateful y, nursing her cup under her chin.

Fledge’s money.

‘Yes, we have.’ Ishbel smiled prettily. ‘Isn’t it funny?’ Then her face broke up, just like it used to when she tripped up and scraped her knees years ago. She put her cup down so clumsily hard that it cracked the saucer. ‘Oh shite!’ she hissed.

Tea spil ed on the cloth.

‘Oh, Ishbel!’ her mother chided.

‘It’s only a saucer,’ she said.

I leaned forward to help with the mopping up but she slapped the back of my hand. She was shaking with tears, they came in a feverish rush. ‘Shame you never even found the dragon,’ she said, the words catching in her throat.

Damn that thing. Damn it to hel for cal ing up demons. Our superstition.

‘Let me help,’ I said, reaching out once more towards the mess on the table.

‘Oh, leave it!’ Ishbel tossed herself back into her chair.

‘There you are, love, don’t cry like that,’ her mother said, but the saying of it set
her
off too, and I couldn’t stand it any more. I stood up.

‘I have to go,’ I said desperately.

‘Yes,’ said Ishbel, ‘this is very hard.’

Eyes tight closed, Mrs Linver sucked her knuckles, clicked her throat.

‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Linver,’ I said again lamely, but she waved me away.

Ishbel stood. ‘I’l see you out.’

In the dark hal she threw her arms round me and squeezed me and kissed my mouth hard. ‘It’s so good to see you again, Jaffy!’ She was laughing and crying at the same time. I couldn’t see her face. I grabbed her again and pul ed her close.

‘God, Ishbel,’ I mumbled. Her soft warm breast pressed against me.

‘I know,’ she said, ‘it must have been hel .’

‘God.’ I wouldn’t let her go. She was al things good I’d longed towards when I was in the boat. I could have crushed her.

‘Poor, poor Jaffy,’ she crooned, swaying about with me and stroking the back of my head. It lasted a few long seconds, til we drew clumsily apart and bumped giddily towards the door as if drunk.

‘Come and have a proper talk with me, won’t you?’ she said as she opened the door for me. ‘I’m back at work tomorrow and I won’t get a chance to breathe before Friday week at least. Wil you go in the Malt Shovel on Saturday?’

‘I couldn’t say.’

‘Wel , I’l see you soon,’ she said, smiled and gave me one last kiss, tears stil running from her eyes, and there I was out in the early evening, reeling, down towards the Highway where the sailors and col iers were beginning to whoop it up.

I went into a tavern and got very drunk with a sailor from Naples, who swore and scratched his bug bites savagely for the entire duration of my stay, making his arms bleed. Filthy lodgings, he said, spitting. Filthy food and filthy girls.

‘I agree,’ I said. ‘Filthy, al filthy,’ and spent some more money. I could never go back.

‘I kil ed my friend,’ I said to the Italian.

He waved an arm forgivingly as if to say, don’t we al ? I opened my mouth to tel more but was dumb. Never go back.

She was engaged. No point at al . Just rub salt in the wounds whenever she saw me.

The touts and whores had noted my carelessness and circled round, but I was wise to al that. Around midnight I went home in a cab, and to bed, with spinning head and dry mouth, heart as sick and bloated as a tick.

They tel me I was afloat for sixty-five days.

You don’t easily get back from a thing like that. Dark in the night I’d lie awake and know I’d never real y returned, that I was lost stil and always would be. I floated in a stream of babbling time. I went to ground. Never went to see Ishbel.

She sent a letter, but I ignored it. Said sorry she’d missed me at the Malt Shovel, she hoped I was wel . Wel , she was a kind-hearted girl, she would say that. I went back to bed and wouldn’t get up. I stayed upstairs at Ma’s. Slept and slept, sat and sat, drank and drank, scribbled my testament and tore it up, again and again. The sounds outside my window soothed me. My bruise ached, a permanent bruise on my upper right arm, from Tim’s grip on the boat. I should have shown her that. I should have shown Ishbel. Now and then I looked out over the wintry rooftops. Dream and life and thoughts, darks and lights, coalescing, my head no more than a bubble about to burst. My mind walked on cloud tops, soared in trances of kil ing delight. My head was a chasm.

The universe pressed down on me.

Ma kept coming in and nagging. I kept sending her away.

One day she said she’d bumped into Mrs Linver, and Mrs Linver had said she hoped I was wel and that Ishbel sent her love. How could
she
know that? It was just something people said to be nice. Anyway, I didn’t even have Ishbel’s address, so it was up to her to come round here if she wanted to see me. But she didn’t bother, and I didn’t bother and anyway I was too tired to do anything or even think about anything.