Lenny says, ‘So how’s your Kath?’
Vince don’t answer for a long time. It’s as though he hasn’t heard or he’s concentrating on the road. I see him looking in the mirror.
‘Still working for you at the garage?’ Lenny says.
Lenny knows she isn’t, and Lenny knows Vince doesn’t like ‘garage’. It’s ‘showroom’ these days. It was Lenny who said one night in the Coach, ‘Showroom, he calls it, well we all know what’s on show.’
‘No,’ Vince says. ‘Packed it in, didn’t she?’
Lenny says, ‘Aint out of a job, I hope.’
Vince don’t answer.
Lenny says, answering for him, ‘No, I heard she aint out of a job.’
Vince says, ‘So why you asking then?’
Vince puts his foot down just a bit. We all hear the extra revs.
Vic says, ‘What d’you say we all stop somewhere for lunch, take a break?’
Lenny says, ‘Curious, that’s all. Can’t always trust what you hear.’
I say, ‘Good idea, Vic.’
Vic’s still holding the box. He shouldn’t keep hogging it.
Lenny says, ‘Only it’s a shame she never went to see Jack, in the hospital. When he was—Jack would’ve appreciated that. Time was she used to call him Grandad.’
Vince says, ‘But he wasn’t.’
Vic says, ‘I’d say somewhere around Rochester way.’
Lenny says, ‘Daughters. Who’d have ’em?’
We’re coming up to the M25 junction. The traffic’s busy.
Lenny looks at me. He says, ‘You hear much from your Susie these days?’
I say, ‘Odd letter.’
He says, ‘You reckon she’d come, if you was—I mean, d’you think she’d show up?’
Vic says, ‘What a question.’
Lenny says, ‘It’s a fair one.’
I say, ‘I aint thought about it.’ But I have.
Lenny says, ‘It’s a fair question.’
Vic says, ‘Jack would’ve reckoned on us taking a break for lunch.’ Vince looks at him.
Lenny says, ‘And how’s your brood, Vic? I reckon you did the right thing—get yourself a couple of sons, set ’em up in the firm, so you can bow out easy. Passing on the torch. All that.’
Vic says, ‘Can’t complain.’
Lenny says, ‘ “Tucker and Sons”—sounds all right, don’t it, Vince?’
Vince doesn’t answer.
‘Don’t it, Vince?’
Vince says, all fierce and hissy, ‘I’m here. I came.’
He moves out to overtake a truck.
Lenny says, ‘Daughters.’
The sky’s clear and blue and clean with just a few wisps of cloud. There’s a breeze stirring the trees at the side of the road. The signs say ‘Sevenoaks, Dartford Tunnel’. We’re clear of London but the view either side can’t make up its mind whether it’s town or country. It’s like we’re travelling but it’s all the same place.
I say, ‘That box must be getting heavy, Vic, you want to pass it back here?’
Lenny says, ‘So when you going to put yourself out to grass, Vic? When you going to let them boys take over?’
I look at Lenny. I think, Don’t quit yet, Vic, there’s the two of us.
Vic says, ‘No rush. There’s a few customers I should stick around for yet.’
I can’t see Vic’s face but he isn’t chuckling and he hasn’t turned round and winked.
‘And the lads aren’t kicking me out yet. You hungry, Lenny?’
‘I’m thirsty.’
Vince says, ‘You could swan it, Vic. You could do better than Margate.’
Lenny says, ‘Big Boy here’s aiming at the Bahamas.’
Vince says, ‘At best part of a grand a throw.’
Lenny says, ‘Jack cost that? Joan better start saving.’
Vince says, ‘That’s what I’d guess.’
Vic’s keeping quiet.
Lenny says, ‘You aint picking up the tab, Big Boy?’
I say, ‘So if you want to pass him over here, Vic.’
Vic says, ‘Sorry, Raysy,’ like he’d forgotten. ‘You want to hold him for a bit then?’ He turns and smiles gently, as if he don’t want to upset any feelings.
Lenny says, ‘Still, Vic, if you ever pegged out on the job, it’d be handy.’
Vic says, ‘I’d thought of that. Here.’
He passes me the box.
‘Dick and Trev do the business?’ Lenny says.
‘Course.’
‘Neat that,’ Lenny says, ‘sweet that. Daughters, eh, Raysy? Nothing but trouble.’
I’m holding the box now, Jack’s on my knees. We all watch what’s passing by for a bit, then Lenny says, ‘Still, you should retire, Vic. If young Kath can, I reckon you can.’
Vince says, ‘She aint retired.’
Lenny says, ‘No? So it’s true she aint having to scrounge? You know, you lost quite an asset there, Big Boy, I reckon she pulled in the punters.’
Vince don’t say anything.
‘I reckon one of her skirts was worth six of your ties.’
Vince don’t say nothing, but his shoulders sort of winch up.
‘What I hear, she’s pulling in punters of her own now.’
Lenny’s face is all rough and hot. I’ve never known if it was the fights, years ago, or if his face was always like that, it was never smoothed off at the start. He looks at me, quick, with the box on my lap, and I feel a fool now for asking for it, for sitting holding it like a kid needing its toy.
Vince says, ‘Yeh, maybe we should stop off for a break.’
Lenny says, ‘Maybe it was just as well she never went to see Jack. That way, he never had to know his granddaughter was a—’
Vince says, ‘She weren’t his granddaughter.’
‘And the other bit?’
Vic says, ‘Gents—remember who’s on board.’ He ought to have a whistle.
Lenny says, ‘He can’t hear nothing, no more than he can see. Unless you believe Big Boy here.’
I lift the box off my knees. I mean to put it on the seat between Lenny and me but there’s Vince’s jacket there.
Lenny says, ‘Funny that, since if you asked me if Vincey had a motto, I’d say it was “Out of sight, out of mind”.’
Lenny looks at me juggling with the box. He says, ‘Jack in a box, eh, Raysy?’
I put the box down on the jacket and give the cloth a little pat like I don’t want to so much as wrinkle it. Vince angles the mirror a bit to see what I’m doing but I can tell somehow he doesn’t mind, it’s not his jacket he’s thinking of. He doesn’t shift back the mirror.
We drive on in silence, though it feels like Vince is working up to saying something. He keeps looking at the box on his jacket. At last he lifts his head and tilts it as though to say he aint talking to anyone in particular but if he is, it’s Lenny. There’s an odd pitch to his voice.
He says, ‘I used to think they could see me. I used to think, I couldn’t see them but they could see me.’