Now Tom was prowling around the room, taking swipes as he passed at a chair arm, the table, a wall, returning to aim a punch at the chair next to hers, like a schoolboy unable to contain exuberance, hut then standing to stare in front of him, frowning, thinking - like an adult. Then he whirled about and was close to his mother, all schoolboy, an embodied snigger, a leer. And then trepidation - he was not sure of himself, nor of his mother, who blushed scarlet, went white, and then got up and deliberately slapped him hard, this way, that way, across the face.
‘Don’t you dare,’ she whispered, trembling with rage. ‘How dare you …’
Half crouching, hands to his head, protecting it, he peered up at her, face distorted in what could have been a schoolboys blubbering, but then he took command of himself, stood and said directly to her, ‘I’m sorry,’ though neither he nor she could have said exactly what it was he was sorry for, nor what he was not to dare. Not to let words, or his face, say what he had learned of women in the night just passed, with Lil?
He sat down, put his face in his hands, then leaped up, grabbed his swimming things and was off running into the sea, which this morning was a flat blue plate rimmed by the colourful houses of the enclosing arm of the bay opposite.
Tom did not come into his mother’s house that day but made a detour back to Lil’s. Ian slept late - nothing new in that. He, too, found it hard to look at her, but she knew it was the sight of her, so terribly familiar, so terribly and newly revelatory, it was too much, and so he snatched up his bundle of swimming things and was off. He did not come back until dark. She had done small tasks, made routine telephone calls, cooked, stood soberly scanning the house opposite, which showed no signs of life, and then, when Ian returned, made them both supper and they went back to bed, locking the house front and back - which was something not always remembered.
A week passed. Roz was sitting alone at the table with a cup of tea when there was a knock. She could not ignore it, she knew that, though she would have liked to stay inside this dream or enchantment that had so unexpectedly consumed her. She had dragged on jeans and a shirt, so she was respectable to look at, at least. She opened the door on the friendly, enquiring face of Saul Hutler, who lived some doors along from Lil, and was their good neighbour. He was here because he fancied Lil and wanted her to marry him.
When he sat down and accepted tea, she waited.
‘Haven’t seen much of you lot recently, and I can’t get any reply at Lil’s.’
‘Well, it’s the school holidays.’
But usually she and the boys, Lil and the boys, would have been in and out, and often people waved at them from the street, where they all sat around the table.
‘That boy, Ian, he needs a father,’ he challenged her.
‘Yes, he does,’ she agreed at once: she had learned in the past week just how much the boy needed a father.
‘I’m pretty sure I’d be a father to Ian - as much as he’d let me.’
Saul Hutler was a well-set-up man of about fifty, not looking his age. He ran a chain of artists’ equipment shops, paints, canvases, frames, all that kind of thing, and he knew Lil from working with her on the town’s trade associations. Roz and Lil had agreed he would make a fine husband, if either of them had been looking for one.
She said, as she had before,’ Shouldn’t you be saying this to Lil?’
‘But I do. She must be sick of me - staking my claim.’
‘And you want me to support - your claim?’
‘That’s about it. I think I’m a pretty good proposition,’ he said, smiling, mocking his own boasting.
‘I think you’d be a good proposition too,’ said Roz, laughing, enjoying the flirtation, if that was what it was. A week of lovemaking, and she was falling into the flirtatious mode as if into a bed. ‘But that’s no use is it, it’s Lil you want.’
‘Yes. I’ve had my eye on Lil for - a long time. ‘This meant, before his wife left him for another man. ‘Yes. But she only laughs at me. Now, why is that, I wonder? I’m a very serious sort of chap. And where are the lads this morning?’
‘Swimming, I suppose.’
‘I only dropped in to make sure you are all getting along all right.’ He got up, finished his tea standing, and said, ‘See you on the beach.’
On’ he went and Roz rang Lil, and said, ‘We’ve got to be seen about a bit more. Saul dropped in.’
‘I suppose so,’ said Lil, her voice heavy, and low.
‘We should be seen on the beach, all four of us.’
A hot morning. The sea shimmered off light. The sky was full of a light that could punish the eyes, without dark defending glasses.
Lil and Roz, in loose wraps over their bikinis, slathered with sun cream, made their way behind the hoys to the beach. It was a well-used beach, but at this hour, on a weekday, there were few people. Two chairs, set close against Roz’s fence, were faded and battered by storm and sun, but serviceable, and there the women sat themselves.! he boys had gone running into the sea. lan had scarcely greeted his mother; Ian’s look at Lil slid off her and away.
The waves were brisk enough for pleasure, but in here, in the bay, were never big enough for surfing, which went on outside, past the Teeth. For all the years of the boys’ childhood they played safe, on this beach, but now they saw it as good enough for a swim, and for the serious dangerous stuff they went out on to the surfers’ beaches. The two were swimming well apart, ignoring each other, and the women’s eyes were behind the secretive dark glasses, and neither wanted to talk - could not.
They saw a head like a seals quite far out grow larger, and then it was Saul, and he came out of the sea, waving at them, but went up through the salty sea bushes and past the houses up to the street.
The boys were swimming in. When they reached the shallows they stood up and faced each other. They began to tussle. Thus had they fought all through their growing-up, boy fashion, but soon it was evident that there was nothing childlike about this fight. They were standing waist deep, waves came rushing in, battering them with foam, and streamed away, and then Ian had disappeared and Tom was holding him down. A wave came in, another, and Lil started up in anguish and said, ‘Oh, my God, he’s going to kill Ian. Tom’s going to kill …’
