He held up his hands. ‘Steady on, Loz. It was just a suggestion. You used to go on and on about the smell of cat piss from the basement. I was just thinking about what’s best for you.’
‘Well, I used to moan about it, but things are different now. Dad’s not here. Marge has been here since before my mum died. She looked after me when I was little. Dad gave her the place downstairs when she was homeless. She had two little boys and left her husband because he was a drunk and beat her up. I can’t just turn her out. She wouldn’t have anywhere to go.’
‘What about Ken?’
‘Oh, he was a mate of Dad’s. They met at the social club when I was tiny. He’s a struggling artist. I don’t think he makes any money at all.’
Luke shrugged. ‘It’s your call, Loz. But if I were you, I’d give it some consideration. You’ve got to think of yourself.’
She bit her lip and turned back to the bookcase. But as she took the books from the shelves and sorted them into piles, she sensed resentment bubbling up inside her.
‘I still can’t believe you said that,’ she burst out, unable to contain herself. ‘You’ve always been dead against landlords who try to get rid of squatters.’
‘Calm down, won’t you? He moved towards her and slipped his arms around her waist. She felt his lips on her neck. Her skin tingled at his touch.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.’ It’s none of my business, I know. I shouldn’t have said anything.’
She felt his hands on her breasts, and her whole body weakened. Reluctantly, she turned to kiss him back.
‘Forgive me?’ Luke said, when they pulled apart. ‘I’ll make it up to you later, I promise. Look, shall I go and make you a cuppa? Perhaps we could order a takeaway again.’
He went into the kitchen, and she could hear him putting the kettle on the stove. Now that he was out of the room, she went to her father’s desk and pulled open one of the drawers. She’d been meaning to empty them out for days. There might be some important papers in there, but she’d felt strange about doing it with Luke in the room. She eased the bottom drawer open. It felt wrong to trespass on Dad’s space like this. These drawers had been out of bounds when she was little. As she pulled the drawer open, instead of piles of paperwork, she found an old wooden box wedged inside it. She pulled it out and put it on top of the desk. The lid was stiff, closed with a rusting lock, which she prised open with a paper knife.
Laura stared at the odd assortment of grimy items inside. At first glance they looked like bric-a-brac from a jumble sale. She fished them out, one by one.
She peered at a rusty medallion on a chain, blackened with age and dirt. It was engraved with a coat of arms; it looked like Saint George on a rearing horse, plunging a stake into a dragon that was cowering on the ground. Laura looked closely. Around the edge were engraved the words ‘Northumberland Fusiliers.
Then there was an old brass signet ring. It looked cheap and, like the medallion, had become dull with age. Three initials were inscribed on it. Laura could just about make them out by holding it up to the light: ‘I. F. R.’
She picked a small coloured badge out of the box and turned it over in her hand. The sound of Luke’s footsteps behind her made her close her fist around it.
‘What’s all that stuff?’ he asked, putting the tea on the desk, and then nuzzling her shoulder.
‘This is the badge of Dad’s regiment from the war, I think. He was in the Straits Settlements Volunteer Force.’
Luke took the badge and looked at it.
‘Pretty rusty, isn’t it?’
‘I could polish it up. I’m sure he kept it for a reason,’ Laura said.
‘Alternatively, he might have just chucked a load of old junk in a box and forgotten all about it,’ Luke said. ‘You’re not going to keep all that stuff, are you?’
She looked back in the box. At the bottom were two sheets of fragile tracing paper; pressed between them lay a twig of flowers, brown with age. They were not like any flowers she’d seen before. Under them were a few spent bullet cases.
‘Shall I just take that lot out to the bonfire?’ said Luke. ‘It’s all filthy.’
‘No. All these things must have had some significance for Dad. I think I should keep them.’
‘Do you have any idea where it all comes from?’
‘Not really, but I could ask that old guy.’
‘Old guy?’
‘You know. The one from the funeral. Jim Leech. They knew each other from the war. I said I’d go and visit him. I was thinking about going over tomorrow morning.’
Luke stared at her. ‘Why do you want to do that? It could be risky.’
‘Risky? He’s an old man, Luke.’ When he didn’t reply, she couldn’t resist adding, ‘It was a hell of a lot riskier for me to go to the police station after the riots, that night you were arrested. Don’t you think so?’
He pulled away from her and sat down on the sofa.
‘I didn’t ask you to come to the bloody nick.’
‘Well, it’s good for you that I did come. You’d have still been in there now if I hadn’t.’
‘Oh, get over it Laura. OK, you helped me. But I would have got off anyway.’
‘I like the way you say that now. I remember you being pretty grateful for my help at the time.’
‘Yes, I was grateful. I am grateful. But look at me now. I can’t do anything. I can’t go to the picket line or anywhere near it. I’m just kicking around in this house doing nothing. I feel useless.’
‘You’ve not been doing nothing. You’ve been helping me.’
‘Yeah, but that’s not doing anything positive for the cause, is it?’
‘Well, that’s not
