‘At least he’s got his body in one piece. It’s only his head that’s defective,’ Doran said.
‘I am here in the room, you know,’ said Reuben.
‘Doran, you’re talking about our son,’ his mother scolded.
‘He’s a grown man, Lisbet. For God’s sake he’s nearly thirty years old and he’s been melancholy for a good year and more now.’
‘But I’ve heard some men came back worse than Reuben, not only parts of their bodies damaged but their brains gassed to nothing but vapour. They just wander aimlessly around London. They don’t even know who they are or where their homes are. I’m told this all the time. There are boys out there whose mothers would have been better off if they hadn’t come back.’
‘Thank you, Mother,’ said Reuben.
Doran put his hands in his pockets and looked out the window at his gardens. Reuben watched as he rocked on his heels.
‘You’re quite right, Lisbet. He’s not that bad, I grant you.’ He turned to Reuben. ‘I daresay we could get some reasonable girl to settle down with you, a solid girl from a good family, preferably a good Jewish girl who might want you to go back to your proper name instead of this Rose business.’
Lisbet sighed. ‘I don’t know, Doran. Reputable fathers don’t want their respectable daughters anywhere near him. Reuben’s always been what you’d call a ladies’ man. If this girl has his child — our grandchild — what does it matter? She can always convert. Give him something to do, Doran.’
‘I suppose he could manage the tenants.’
‘Once again, I am right here.’ Reuben stood up to meet his father head on. ‘And I am not managing the tenants. I’m not the slightest bit interested in the land or the tenants’ cottages! I’m not doing your inspections. I’m not poking my nose into other people’s cupboards.’
‘Damn it!’ snapped Doran. ‘We’re not talking about other people’s cupboards, we’re talking our cupboards, our rooms, our own property. Our cottages and barns. We have to make sure it’s all being kept properly. I’m not asking you to do something dirty. In fact, I’m not asking you to do anything at all. Do what you like. Maybe I shall even cut you off.’ Doran’s cheeks and ears were sizzling and his skin was moist with anger. He snorted again, his nose flared, and then he let the emotion go. The effort had worn him out and he sat down next to Lisbet, who patted his hand ten times, as if she knew that was how many pats it took to console him. She looked at Reuben.
‘I suppose you should bring this girl and her family to dinner. We should meet the mother of our grandchild. Friday?’
‘It’s Alice,’ said Reuben.
‘Alice?’ said his mother, and Reuben watched her piece it together. ‘Our Alice from the kitchen?’
‘Our Alice,’ said Reuben.
‘Get me a whisky,’ said Lisbet, ‘as you should have in the first place. And a cigar.’
Alice brushed her long auburn hair a hundred times, the way she’d heard you were supposed to do. She really should get it cut chic and short like the new fashion, but Reuben said he loved her long hair and had buried his head in it and taken deep breaths as if they would give him life. She took her hair in her hands and wound it into a loose bun at the back of her head. Defiant wispy bits immediately fell to the sides of her face. She looked at herself in the mirror. They said she was pretty. Not beautiful but pretty, and Alice preferred pretty to beautiful. Pretty was more inviting, pretty was humble. Alice was a humble girl. She never expected anything that she hadn’t worked for, and she never tried to be centre of attention. She put her hands on her waist; it was thickening with the life growing inside her. She touched the skin on her face and put her fingers on the freckles on her nose and cheeks. She touched her lips, where Reuben had kissed her.
She and Reuben agreed they would each tell their parents on the same day, at the same time. Her parents were excited about the opportunity that had opened up for her. All they could see was her living a life of comfort at Ashgrove House. What more could they want for their daughter? All she could remember was the song in his voice and the soft warmth of his mouth. She was sure in the moment he kissed her that he loved her deeply and she tried to hold onto that. He had whispered in her ear and his breath made something come alive in her, his voice was soft and lilting like an old folk song about love and she closed her eyes, sure the whole thing was a dream. He had lifted her up in his arms and held her there as though she was no effort for him and he would carry them both and forge a future for her. She had seen him a couple more times after that, when he had found her going about her chores and desperately pulled her into a dark corner of the house as though he had some awful disease only she could cure.
‘Are we still engaged?’ she breathlessly asked him between kisses, and he pulled back and looked at her as if he had forgotten he had asked her to marry him, then remembered, and being a man of his word, he said, ‘Yes, yes of course.’ And she felt so wonderful that he had chosen her. Because she knew his reputation, they had warned her when she began work at Ashgrove House: ‘Don’t get caught with Reuben on the stairs — you won’t
