Echo

'I don't feel guilty.'

'Out of pity, then.'

Did he feel pity, either? His strongest emotion was still anger. 'Do not bring that whore into my house,'' his mother had said when he told her he'd married Clara. 'How dare you sully your father's name by giving it to a cheap tart? Was killing him not enough for you, Michael?' That had been five years ago, and he hadn't spoken to her since. 'I'm still angry, Emma, so maybe I'm phoning out of filial duty. I'm not going to apologize to her-or you for that matter-but I am sorry she's ill. What do you want me to do about it? I'm quite happy to see her as long as she's prepared to keep a rein on her tongue, but I'll walk out the minute she starts having a go. That's the only deal you or she will get, so do I come or not?'

'You haven't changed one little bit, have you?' Her voice was angry. 'Your mother's virtually blind and may have to have her leg amputated as a result of diabetes, and you talk about deals. Some filial duty, Michael. She was in hospital for most of September, and now Hugh and I are paying through the nose for private-nursing care at the farm because she won't come and live with us. That's filial duty, making sure your mother's being looked after properly even if it means hardships for yourself.'

Deacon looked towards the warehouse with a frown in his dark eyes. 'What happened to her investments? She had a perfectly good income five years ago, so why isn't she paying for the nursing care herself?''

Emma didn't answer.

'Are you still there?'

'Yes.'

'Why isn't she paying herself?'

'She offered to put the girls through school and used her capital to buy their fees in advance,' said Emma reluctantly. 'She left herself enough to live on but not enough to pay for extras. We didn't ask,' she went on defensively. 'It was her idea, but none of us knew she was going to be struck down like this. And it's not as if there was any point keeping anything for you. As far as the rest of us were aware, you were never going to speak to us again.'

'That's right,' he agreed coolly. 'I'm only speaking to you now because Julia was so damn sure I wouldn't.'

Emma sighed. 'Is that the only reason you phoned?'

'Yes.'

'I don't believe you. Why can't you just say sorry and let bygones be bygones?''

'Because I've nothing to be sorry for. It's not my fault Dad died, whatever you and Ma like to think.'

'That's not what she was angry about. She was angry about the way you treated Julia.'

'It was none of her business.'

'Julia was her daughter-in-law. She was very fond of her. So was I.'

'You weren't married to her.'

'That's cheap, Michael.'

'Yes, well, I can't accuse you of that, can I? Not when you and Hugh have scooped the pot,' said Deacon sarcastically. 'I've never taken a cent from Ma and don't intend to start now, so if she wants to see me, it'll have to be on my terms because I don't owe her a damn thing, never mind how many bloody legs she's about to lose.'

'I can't believe you said that,' snapped his sister. 'Aren't you at all upset that she's ill?'

If he was, he wasn't going to admit it. 'My terms, Emma, or not at all. Have you a pen? This is my telephone number at home.' He gave it to her. 'I presume you'll be at the farm for Christmas, so I suggest you talk this over with Ma and ring me with your verdict. And don't forget I promised to deck Hugh the next time I saw him, so take that into account before you reach a decision.'

'You can't hit Hugh,' she said indignantly. 'He's fifty-three.'

Deacon bared his teeth at the receiver. 'Good, then one punch should do it easily.'

There was another silence. 'Actually, he's been wanting to apologize for ages,' she said weakly. 'He didn't really mean what he said. It just sort of came out in the heat of the moment. He regretted it afterwards.'

'Poor old Hugh. It's going to be doubly painful then when I break his nose.'

Terry appeared from the warehouse with two filthy suitcases, which he parked on the backseat. He offered the explanation that, as the warehouse was full of fucking thieves, he was safeguarding his possessions by bringing them with him. Deacon thought it looked more like wholesale removal to what promised to be luxury living.

'Doesn't the endless 'fucking' get a little boring after a while?'' he murmured as he drew away from the curb.

They ate their takeaway, perched on the hood of Deacon's car. They were in danger of freezing to death in the night air, but he preferred that to having his upholstery splattered with red tandoori chicken dye. Terry wanted to know why they hadn't eaten in the restaurant.

'I didn't think we'd ever get served,' said Deacon rather grimly, 'not after you called them wogs.'

Terry grinned. 'What d'you call them, then?'

'People.'

They sat in silence for a while, gazing down the street ahead of them. Fortunately it was well nigh deserted, so they attracted little curiosity. Deacon wondered who would have been the more embarrassed, himself or Terry, had some acquaintance passed by and seen them.

'So what are we going to do next?' asked Terry, cramming a last onion bhaji into his mouth. 'Go down the pub? Visit a club maybe? Get stoned?'