A blustery evening on the beach at Waterloo. The Iron Men stared out to sea, but kept their thoughts to themselves. Harry and Gina limped across the sand, making for nowhere in particular. They’d been patched up in Casualty the previous night, and although Harry’s head throbbed where Wayne had struck it, the doctors reckoned the concussion had done no lasting harm. The rest of his body felt sore and old, but he’d live.
Unlike Wayne. The fall into the sewer had broken his neck.
The sky was beautiful, with the last lingering light of day. Red, yellow and orange hues cast reflections that shimmered upon the dark water. The motionless shadows stood at intervals along the beach, as far as the eye could see.
‘I love the statues,’ Gina said. ‘I like to imagine they are alive.’
They’d driven here from the hospital. Ceri had slipped into a coma. The overdose had damaged her liver beyond repair, and the doctors didn’t expect her to live. Jim was taking tentative steps along the road to recovery. Carmel had been thrilled to meet Gina; she’d got it into her head that at last Harry had found a girlfriend. She didn’t understand.
Gina had come back with him to Empire Dock on Saturday night. After what had happened in the tunnel, neither of them wanted to be alone. He’d taken the sofa, she’d had his bed. No question of their making love; they’d been too bruised and weary for anything but sleep.
‘What did Mrs May want?’ Gina asked.
Juliet had called round at the flat earlier, and he’d answered the door in his dressing gown.
‘Just checking that you’re still in one piece.’
‘For the time being.’
‘I’m glad.’ She cocked an ear as Gina padded around in the living room. ‘Do I gather you have company?’
‘Uh-huh.’
She mustered a smile. ‘Look after yourself.’
‘And you.’ As she turned away down the corridor, he called out, ‘Thanks for yesterday.’
‘It was nothing,’ Juliet said, without looking back.
As the sun slid towards the horizon, Gina’s hand touched his. The words and rhythms of that old favourite song jangled in his brain. He’d last heard it at the Alhambra, whose turrets he could see poking above the houses, pointing to the heavens. He’d been accompanied by Ceri Hussain. It felt like a scene from another lifetime.
He clasped Gina’s fingers, and whispered the words.
‘As long as I gaze on Waterloo Sunset,
I am in paradise.’