‘He was out in Korea – in the Gloucesters.’ The Gloucesters had covered themselves in glory, but maybe too many of them had been lost to have made it worthwhile. It’s hard to explain, but in the 1950s I still didn’t like talking about my war, and I wasn’t all that interested in other people’s. I knew, however, that I’d have to listen to this, or it would always lie between us.
‘I’m sorry.’ I rolled back towards her, and let her lift her head on to my shoulder.
‘Killed or captured?’
‘He was wounded, but afterwards some of the others saw the Chinese going around the trenches killing the badly wounded. Nobody actually saw him killed, but nobody saw him at all after that. I’ve spoken to people who knew him, and who got away. They say he’s dead.’ After a pause she asked, ‘Did you lose people you were close to?’ When I didn’t answer immediately, she sniffed, and said, ‘Sorry: stupid question.’
‘No, it’s all right. I lost a few. Most people did, didn’t they?’
‘Will you tell me one day?’
‘Can we make do with a maybe for the time being?’
‘OK. Do you want to . . . you know . . . again? I’ve quite woken up now.’
I had never wanted to kiss a woman more. So I did. What happened next seemed to do the trick because we slept soon after.
I’ve told you before that my prefab was built alongside James and Maggs’s pub – and that the boys lived there with them when I was away. That morning Dieter slipped across to the pub, and came back with two plates of Maggs’s ‘death by fried breakfasts’ – he served them to us in bed, then went into the kitchen to brew some tea.
June looked fabulous in the mornings – it was something I hadn’t noticed the first time. She yawned, stretched. ‘Is that a good sign? Do you think he likes me?’
‘He’s thirteen years old,’ I told her. ‘He wanted to see your tits.’
She pouted, but she was smiling. ‘Sometimes, Charlie, you can be perfectly foul.’
‘Best you learn that now, before you get stuck on me. Can I have your fried bread if you don’t want it? It’s no good once it gets cold.’
Had I said the wrong thing again already? I was only joking of course, but the upside-down smile slipped across her face, almost as if I had slapped her.
When I told her that I was falling in love with her, as I put her on the train on Sunday afternoon, it was as if I’d mentioned that I liked fish for supper on Fridays.
She just nodded, and said, ‘Mmm.’ And after a pause, ‘I’ll remember that.’
I suppose that I had asked for it. Both the boys had come to say goodbye to her. We left them in the car, and I walked her to the train. When I returned to the car Dieter piped up from the back seat.
‘I don’t know what you said to her yesterday, Dad, but this time you definitely blew it.’
‘Where did you learn to talk like that?’
‘From the Americans. Superman on the Saturday-morning pictures.’
This was a bit of a trial of strength so I tried embarrassment. ‘Did you like her tits then?’
Dieter didn’t buy embarrassment: he was thirteen going on thirty. I should have remembered that. ‘Not as nice as Marilyn’s.’
‘Who’s she?’
‘Marilyn Monroe. She’s another American. Martin’s selling pictures of her at school. Hers are wonderful.’
I chanced glancing round to see his face before delivering some sort of rebuke . . . but was arrested by Carlo’s instead. Carly hadn’t said much as usual, but was looking out of the side screen with tears streaming down his face. I could see that I had some work to do.
I coped with Christmas; that’s the best that can be said for it. I’ve never felt comfortable at Christmas time – old-fashioned guilt about an excess of pleasure, I expect.
I was best taking the boys for walks, flying kites and gliders with them on the strand, and serving in James’s bar after they had gone to bed for the night. I’ve always felt strangely out of place sitting at a table groaning with food, with a paper crown on my head. At least we weren’t going to run short of booze, and that got me by, although I should be ashamed to admit it.
I played with the boys and their new trains – the rails circled and crossed their room several times – but that only made me miserable. I was aware that I hadn’t parted from June on the best of terms, and definitely hadn’t appreciated the efforts she made to get to know the boys. Carlo understood that even better than Dieter, which is why he had cried. We made plans for our first holiday together after I returned, and then it was time to get into my Singer and face life’s next great adventure.
‘I loved the idea of the British Empire when I was a kid,’ I had told Maggs one night before I left. ‘In Sunday school they used to give us magic lantern shows of happy piccaninnies climbing palm trees, and throwing down coconuts to benevolent white masters in exchange for Christianity and a school uniform – barefoot, mind you. Now I know that all we did was steal other people’s countries.’
‘So did all the other Imperials. Spain, France, Germany, the Dutch . . . you name it. The Yanks and Reds are at it now, aren’t they?’
‘That’s no excuse. What did we need an Empire for?’
Maggs blinked, and looked at me as if I was a bit thick. ‘Money, of course, and soldiers to fight all those bleedin’ wars against the other Empires.’
‘My old man thinks that we’ve done enough wars, and set out to stop them last month. I thought he was crazy, but he’s probably right as usual. I’ll have to
