CHAPTER 37
William left after the meal, so as not to alert his mother, and John drove off home shortly thereafter. I had a little chat with him, just before he left.

“Rob, I think I shall look at your idea at the reserve.

It may work…look, I am not easy, I have never been easy, but you have tried to do something for a cunt that he might not be able to appreciate”

I coughed at that, but John continued. “You think I didn’t know? I am an observer by definition, Mr Carter. It goes with my own little strand of OCD. And perhaps…perhaps one day you might tell me what your problem is. May I take your contact details? I have a sort of system in my head, lists of numbers you would say, and, well, if I manage to do what I am thinking I might have…”

He trailed off, clearly looking for the right phrase.

“I might have a way of switching tracks with my life. Thank you for your generosity of spirit. I will discuss this with my therapist”

It was odd; he was closing down again, but that little beacon of rightness was still burning behind his eyes. Then, he was gone. I wandered back to the others, and Rachel immediately fixed me with a hard stare.

“You trust him?”

“No. Well, not yet, aye? I had a sort of suggestion for, I don’t know. What do they call it? Displacement activity? Sublimation? Whatever, just an idea that he might be able to feed his compulsion to tick lists by ticking other people’s lists for them, if you catch my drift. No, I don’t yet trust him, but I think there might be something there worth quarrying out. Let’s get off home, aye? You coming back for coffee?”

“You OK with that, L? I mean, you don’t want to rip her clothes off and, you know?”

Larinda laughed. “Laters, yeah, but I got all night”

She had, and she did, and…but the rest is obvious.

A month later, three of us queued our way through Gatwick security, and I found myself back in one of those little twin-prop jobs, this time with Larinda next to me and Rachel across the aisle. Miles to the South, William should be doing the same, and as we taxied out to join the queue of disparate aircraft awaiting take-off, I smiled across at Rach.

“Stop bleating, aye? She’ll be fine with you. Just remember to take your shoes off indoors. Pub tonight?”

“Yeah, will help with the nerves, I hope”

A swing, and a surge as the pilot put the plane straight into his run, and we were off, the old aircraft of the museum passing beneath us, and after a while we dug into the goodies we had accumulated pre-flight. Odds and sods of terrain came and went through gaps in the cloud, and then it was clearing as we hit Geordie airspace. Rachel called across the aisle.

“Is the air breathable up here, and do I need my thermals?”

“Cheeky so-and-so!”

Larinda laughed once more, a sound I was not only getting used to but starting to need.

“Nah, I read a guide once. It said it was only cold, wet and windy up here for three months of the year”

She paused, for the punchline. “The rest of the year it’s winter! Love, we going to see your house from here?”

“Probably not; flight path goes right overhead. Look, that’s the town, aye? We swing out to sea now, then back in to the airport”

Landing was gentler than last time, and our luggage was delivered surprisingly quickly. I rang Mam.

“We’re here, just going to find William”

“Want us to pick you up?”

“No, ta. Too much luggage, and four of us in that car; we’ll grab the bus.”

“Let us know when you get to the bus station, I’ll have the kettle on”

“Aye, be lovely. Will’s flight’s down, just going to find him. I’ll ring”

There he was at last, and off we went for the tram/underground hybrid that is the Tyneside Metro. It’s always odd, travelling the route with newcomers, because all of the sights become more vivid in the simple act of pointing them out. After the first underground section, we popped out for the Tyne crossing and its spectacular bridges, and then into the grim bit below Gateshead before the last bit to Heworth. Will had been impressed by the crossings, but the last bit left most of our party cold. Rachel summed it up.

“Like bits of Brentford, this”

“Old pit towns, crap estates, aye? We’ll be there soon”

I made the phone call, and Neil was waiting at the bus stop, his smile dazzlingly better than the painful expressions I remembered so recently.

“Hi, Nelly! This is Larinda, my other half, like, and this is William, Von’s eldest, and Rachel, my workmate”

He hugged me. “Welcome home, Jill. Will, Larinda was it? Rachel…you could do something with that hair. I could, anyway”

“What’s wrong with it? I paid good money!”

“Pay me some good money, and it would be far better. What’s she using for conditioner, one of those crappy things that coats your hair with plastic?”

I had to interrupt. “He’s a hairdresser, Rach. A good one”

Neil laughed. “No, a bloody good one! I’ll have a look when we get in, aye? Now, we’re off out to the Gardeners’ for a meal tonight, if you’re not too tired, but we might stop in the Neville for a quick one, like. Say hello to a couple of folk”

“Aye, thon’ll de me. Howay, hyem wi we”

Three soft Southerners looked at each other, winced, and shook their heads as I just grinned, cow that I was. We pulled our bags along the pavement to our street, and Mam was in the kitchen just pouring.

“Now, I take it yez aal drink tea. Neil tell ye we’re off out tonight, Jill?”

So casual, it seemed, in using my name, and so heart-warming. My mother, my brother, my family. She looked at Will.

“Aye, I can see your mam in you, son. Now, I know she’s been a bit off with the lass here, but what he telt us is that you are your own person. If that’s right, you are welcome here as you and not as someone’s son, aye? So gie’s a hug and say hello properly”

William was almost in tears, and I saw why. Von had always been one for family as a concept of being in each other’s lap, always close together for the sake of family, and here was Mam showing another way, that of seeing others as individuals in their own right and not as ciphers in a family tree. She smiled, and then picked out Larinda for attention.

“Aye, she always did have an eye for the bonny ones. Thank you, Larinda, for looking after my new daughter. And you, Rachel was it? She’s not gone into details, like, always a respecter of privacy, I brought her up that way. But she says you’ve not had it too great…”

Rachel looked around, and she appeared stunned, the classic rabbit in headlights look.

“Jill, she always like this?”

Mam laughed out loud. “Mothers and daughters, aye?”

Rachel shook her head, then grinned. “Well, ‘aye’. Look, get it out, yeah, was married, hubby had a very physical way of showing how he felt, usually with his right. Sort of made me careful, yeah?”

Mam’s face tightened, as did Neil’s, and I could see the old fears come up in his mind, the beatings, the bricks through his windows. Mam looked at him, and drew herself up to her full five feet one.

“Neil, you know that doesn’t happen, not here, aye? Rachel…how, take this as I mean it, aye? This is our home. Mine, Neil’s, Jill’s, Ian’s if he ever got off his backside to come. That does not happen here. Ever. Not now, not never. Is that understood? Is that OK? No being careful here, just being you. Welcome to our home”

She paused, the Matriarch, just for a second. “Right, Jill, you know where everyone is sleeping, so show them up, bags away, bloody shoes off, like, and back here for tea, and you can help me finish the crossword”

We settled ourselves in our respective places, and as I left Will to unpack, he looked at me with a strained expression.

“Jill, it’s OK to call you that? Here?”

“Not outside, aye?”

“Aye. Yes. She’s so different to Mam, not what I expected. And your brother: he’s the gay one?”

“Yes, he is. A bit old for you, though”

He actually blushed. “That wasn’t what I meant. He’s…quiet is the only word I can think of, but he wasn’t when he said about Rachel’s hair”

“Aye, Will, he got some serious beatings, one of which left him unconscious and concussed. Had a breakdown, and only just getting his head sorted, so gently, aye? He is a very good hairdresser, though”

“It showed, yeah? What’s this place we’re going to?”

“Working men’s club, just round the corner. They do good, solid meals. We’re going for a pint first, then a short walk and we’re there”

After tea and gentle interrogation by the Matriarch from Her Chair, we set off round to the Neville. I was pleased to see she was only using one stick now, and nearly as pleased to see the bulk of Jim behind the bar.

“How, Jim!”

“Whey, hello, Rob! Whe’s aal these wi’ ye?”

Rachel shook her head. “DO–YOU–SPIKKA–DA–INGLIS?”

Once more the optics rattled as he laughed. “Rob, which one of these is your lass? Hiya, Nelly”

I put my arm around Larinda’s waist. “Jim, this is Larinda, and the other lad is William, the Welsh lady’s eldest, aye? Mam you know, and this is Rachel”

Jim measured her with his gaze. “Aye, you were spot on”

Rachel looked at him, head slightly aslant. “Spot on with what?”

“I axed him if ye were bonny, and he said whey aye. And ye are. Bonny, like”

I touched her shoulder. “I told Jim about the retirement party for John, and gave you the credit for the idea, and he asked me if you were pretty. And then, being Jim, he asked specific questions about the precise nature of our relationship”

Jim grinned again. “Aye, Rob, but they’re both mazors, and so’s your mam, aye?”

Mam laughed. “Rachel, he’s saying that all three of us are very attractive women, like. And ye, Jim Forster, stop putting on the accent, like. Just cause they’re from London”

Rachel stood up into her best heels-and-cleavage pose of ultimate indignation. “Bleedin’ Essex, innit? Wudja Adam an’ Eve it?”

She held the pose for a second, then collapsed into laughter.

“Hiya Jim, I’m Rach. Pleased to meet you!”

Jim held out his hand. “Hiya, bonny lass. Same here. I’m Jim, but they call me, well, Jim. Drinks?”

I looked around. “Two white wines and three and a half scotches, Jim. We’re off up the Club for tea”

“They’ve a turn on tonight, might be a bit loud”

“Then we’ll be back here after”

“Ne worries, Rob. Rach, we have Pinot Grigio, but if you want really dry I got some Frascati in the other day, not a bad drop”

“Sorry?”

“Well, I prefer a decent Chablis, like, or a Graves”

Once more the grin. “How, just cause I’m a Geordie doesn’t mean ah’ve got ne taste! Anyways, how does this lad pull such crackin’ lasses?”

Rachel was clearly tuning into his accent, but then he was easing off from his ‘confuse the shit out of the southerners’ game. She paused, and looked round at the group.

“That one, well, she sort of had him, yeah, but us two? No secret: just by being the nicest person we’ve met, yeah”

The grin. “Aye, I’ll drink to that. Rob, these are on me, aye?”