When it turned out that Ken wasn’t dead, the undertakers enquired with Astrid for directions to the Michelin-starred restaurant in the village. She took them to the door and hesitated over its proper name for the purpose of directory enquiries. She glanced back at the sitting room, and decided against asking around the room. It was a quiet night, they’d just give it a whirl without a reservation, the undertakers said.
‘So, he’s not dead at all then,’ said Matt, coming into the kitchen, jerking his thumb at the departing undertakers.
‘No, love, no. It turns out he was only having a nap.’ She raised her eyebrows. With the interval evidently over, the three children resumed their places on the hearth, knees clasped for the rest of the show.
‘All right?’ said Ken from the sofa, when they came into the front room. ‘I tell you what, I feel a bit rough. I dunno whether I didn’t have a stroke, or something, up there. I dunno. I can’t say.’
‘It turns out he’s just been having a kip up there!’ Dave shouted at the kids as if they were in on it somehow.
‘For’y winks; it can’t ’ave bin more, son.’
Dave was hopping around like a hobgoblin, going from one foot to the other, while the old man sat on the sofa, mystified and enraptured, kept shaking his head and blowing out.
‘Rip Van Bleeding Winkle he is,’ said Pearl to the kids, nodding at Ken.
‘For’y winks it was,’ Ken insisted. ‘Thass whaddit felt like anyway.’
‘You old sod!’ Dave was dark red.
‘I come over all funny, di’n’ I? Couldn’t ’elp it.’
‘My arse,’ said Pearl, lifting one side of her bottom and poking it with a finger to make it clear to the children what she meant.
‘’Ere, Astrid,’ the old man said with a chortle, reaching across to the armchair and picking at her sleeve, ‘’ere, Astrid, I bet when Jesus come to life ag’in, he didn’t get this sort of stick, did ’e?’
‘Even the dead don’t wan’ ’im!’ Dave was losing it. ‘He only had me crying.’
‘Thass more than anyone else did,’ said Ken. ‘I ’spect.’
‘You were bloody listening, weren’t you?’ Dave slapped his own head. ‘I tell you what . . . I mean, you just couldn’t make it up, could you!’
Marina told him not to hit himself. He said it helped; he said it was helping him think straight.
‘You’ll give yourself a headache,’ she said. ‘Try and keep it together, Dave.’
‘I’m sick of keeping it together! All I ever done was keep it together when there weren’t nothink to keep together.’
‘Well, I’m not dead, am I?’ said Ken, looking pleased. ‘I mean, there is that.’
Dave slapped his forehead again. Marina told the kids to get their things.
‘There’s her there!’ Dave pointed the sniper of his arm at his mother first. ‘Not so much as a kiss ’allo, shouting bloody blue murder at the bloody dog. I mean, that ain’t no sort of welcome, is it? And then she’s cuddling up with old Golden Boy there, and not seen him in twenty years. And telling us off for not having her round more! I mean, Christ! When she did come round it was all moan, moan, moan, the kids this and that, don’t they get on your nerves, and why do we fuss over ’em so much, and weren’t they ugly babies, and don’t expect too much of them school-wise . . . Meanwhile I’ve been subbing her to keep this sodding fantasy of hers running. Self-sufficient! What a joke!’ He mimicked putting a phone to his ear. ‘’Ere, Dave, you wouldn’t believe what this plumber fella wants. You couldn’t send someone, could you? ’Ere, Dave, this council tax is a shocker. You couldn’t pay it, could you? Only its cheaper when you pay it!’
Just back from the dead, Ken was loving every minute of it. He was grinning from ear to ear, and when Dave seemed to hit a high note, he’d whoop, and stamp his feet like he was at a barn dance or a spiritualist church. ‘Go on, son, you let it all out! You get it off your chest. You tell ’em!’
‘Nothing nice ever comes out of her mouth. But that’s a family trait, innit? Apart from when it comes to me. I mean, I’ve had to keep it buttoned ’a’n’ I? I remember standing here, in the exact same spot I’m standing now, when I was fifteen, saying nothing, not a peep, while they brought the whole pack of cards down, the three of them . . .’
‘Dave,’ Nick intervened.
‘No, Nick! No. Nick! Nick? Who are you anyway? The prodigal son, she said, didn’t she? More like Walter Fucking Mitty. You weren’t off eating peapods or husks or whatever, were you? No, mate, you were living it up, and never a second glance behind, while me, this here great dope,’ he slapped his forehead again, ‘the butt of all your jokes since I was born, was giving her a bit of cash and takin’ orders from flaming Lazarus ’ere. Yes, you were so busy, weren’t you! Shagging Eastern Europeans! And him, Lazarus, he’s been like a torment to me, he ’as!’
He pointed out their father, who smiled and nodded and shook his head, all modest delight, as if he were hearing an after-dinner speech in his honour.
‘The miserable old shit! What’s wrong with magnolia, David? No one ever complains about magnolia! Oy, that ain’t level, son.
You’ll have to take that down and start again. And the old chestnut: Nick’s done well, innie? D’y’ever ’ear from him then? Wass ’e say then? Where is ’e now then? Yes, too big to call any of us. And us,’ he pointed out his wife, ‘we’ve had to take it, we’ve had to put up with it and, I tell you what, she’s even said to me, her, she’s said to me, Wouldn’t life be easier, Dave, if we could just move away, start up again, someplace . . .? I nearly broke my back keeping it all together, and for peanuts, out of duty really, and I never did what other blokes do, I never went on benders, I never went with other women, nothing. Take this bin out, Davie. Change that handle, will you, Davie? Why don’t we go on holidays, Dad? When I hear my name said, my heart sinks, it does. Honest. Because it’s never going to be good, it’s not going to be anything good. I should have changed my flamin’ name an’ all. You know, call me sodding Mike, or something.’ Laura mouthed ‘Mike’ at the other two and made a face and the three of them had to put their hands over their mouths to stop themselves laughing.
He was standing holding his forearms. He let a finger point like a pistol, which he waved at all of them, back and forth.
‘Well, I’ve got some news for you lot. ’Ere, Matt, you can look me up some flights on the Internet next. I want to go on a holiday. I want a break from you lot. A long one. Might not even come back.’
There was not a sound in the room, until Ken leant over on to one side of his body and cracked a knee joint. ‘Stiff now,’ he said. ‘You get stiff after sitting a while.’
‘Dave,’ Marina said.
Dave was staring at his sports socks. He made a face. ‘You can come with me, if you want,’ he said, shrugging and subsiding but not looking at anyone. ‘The kids can come an’ all. But none of this Dad that and Dad the other. I’ve had a guts full.’
‘I tell you what, i’n’ this good, eh? Here we are all together again,’ Ken said, rubbing his hands together and smiling around the room. ‘Here we are.’
And he turned to Pearl and patted her knee. Then, spotting something, he peered in at her face and, using his knuckle, so softly, he staunched the tear on her cheek and let it wet the back of his hand, and she looked at him as he did, and for a moment their expressions were the same.