Mark had changed Sally. He’d taken her away from her mam. His influence had drawn her away. That was why she was distant, why she found it hard being with other kids her age. Mark worried about that. He told Sam about Sally standing out like a sore thumb at school. It made Sam ashamed. She knew Sally could shake that off once she got back with her mam. She cursed Mark for making her daughter weird.
“Let’s go to bed,” Bob said. “We’ve had enough of this day.”
“I’m so tired,” Sam said, almost in spite of herself.
Bob asked gently, “Are you up to it?”
“Hm?”
“Our first night together, under a legal roof?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, we’ve got to take advantage of it, haven’t we? And we’ve got to take our minds off the worry.”
He breathed through his mouth into her face. Suddenly the blush of dark beard on his chin appalled her.
“Mark’s on his way to Leeds,” she said, drawing back. “He ought to be there soon.”
Bob frowned. “Don’t think about it, Sam, love. Remember the night he ran off? When you were expecting? It all gets sorted out. Come on. Let’s got and forget about it for a while; let’s go and fuck.”
She shook him off. “Keep off me! I don’t believe you. I’m staying up tonight. I’ve got a lot of stuff to think about.”
“You can’t stay up all night.”
She set her jaw. “I can do what I like.”
IRIS SAID, “WE’VE BEEN THROUGH WORSE THINGS THAN THIS.”
Peggy shook her head. “No, we haven’t. This is the worst.”
“It’ll be all right.” Iris came to sit beside her.
The phone was still cold; they caught themselves staring at it, yet again.
“I mean it,” Iris continued. “We’ve seen worse times.”
“Like when?” Peggy looked up with dark mascara fingers down cheeks leathered with fatigue.
“During the Second War. We were married then, struggling in Berlin. In the court of James II. When I was Cleopatra and you were Mark Antony.”
“You’re insane.”
“But quite serious.”
“You’re not starting this living-for-ever shit again, are you?”
“Well,” said Iris, “the Cleopatra bit was a sensational lie, I admit. But I am saying that we’ve both seen rough times all through history. We’ve always been in love—for five centuries now—and we’ve always come through it together.”
Peggy gave a brittle laugh. “I’ve not lived for five centuries.”
“No, but I have. You’ve been reincarnated, again and again. You just can’t remember as I can. It’s been me who’s had to run after you, find you, make you love me, time and time again.”
“Oh, sod off, Iris! I’m not in the mood for this.”
Iris startled her by bursting into tears, heavy, gasping sobs. Her small frame fell against Peggy’s. “It’s all true. Don’t pull away from me. I couldn’t go looking again. I want this to be our last life together, I want us to grow old together this time, and I want us to protect those younger ones around us. I want Sally to come back safe, and for Mark to bring her. I don’t want it to break us up in terror. I just want things to be all right. And for you to believe in me, Peggy.”
Her lover gathered her up and Iris sobbed until she fell into a deep sleep. Peggy felt cramp building up in her leg, sitting awkwardly until the night’s television finished. This is madness, she thought. We’re all cracking up over this.
TRAINS ARE SO BRIGHT INSIDE. ESPECIALLY AT NIGHT, AND MARK WAS all nerves. The blue plush of the seats was like sandpaper against him. Again, he was alone as he travelled, slipping into an unfathomable south. Alone he could believe it was all a hoax. He could see nothing outside. Only, occasionally, an industrial estate would flash by, bristling fuchsia and sodium light, pluming pearl-coloured smoke.
He avoided looking at his reflection. The foundation he wore made him look ill. He looked too blank in this light.
It was the last train. The conductor was fractious as he waited for Mark to produce his ticket.
“My child’s been abducted,” Mark told him, by way of explaining his confusion, as the conductor clipped his ticket. “I’m going to find her.”
The conductor nodded gloomily.
“How far to Leeds?”
“Half an hour.” He passed on to the next carriage. Mark heard the scream of air as the doors opened, leaving him alone again.
How will I know when we get there? Just wait until a sign appears, white and glaring at my window, saying ‘Leeds’? Until Tony and Sally are peering in at me? How will I know?
Mark had never travelled far. To stay at home seemed safer; it had everything he ever wanted, or so he told himself in his more optimistic moments. At least, he could make it in any environment he wanted. And so he had; and they were happy, weren’t they? They had made a happy family together, successfully, by staying in the same place at the same time.
He knew he had made Sally as nervy of travelling as he was. Somehow the neurosis had been passed on; it wasn’t one that Sam had ever had. Sam went out to work daily, thought nothing of catching the bus last thing alone in the dark. Sally had squeezed herself in warily that day they had taken the bus to Darlington to see the pantomime. The sight of strange buildings had been enough to unnerve her. And she had been sitting with her father the whole time. God knew how she was coping with being taken to a strange town by a strange man.
He had fallen into a desperate, headaching sleep, and woke just in time. He found himself slumped, wino-style, and rose up to look
