‘Tracey was right,’ he said. ‘The woman’s a vegetable. Killing her might be a mercy.’
‘What are you doing here?’ Grandad asked angrily.
‘I’m the man with the gun,’ Luke said. ‘Now I want to know your intentions?’ It was the ultimate black joke, hearing my lover ask my grandfather this question.
‘What do you mean?’ Grandad asked belligerently.
‘Are you going to top yourself as well?’
‘That’s none of your business.’ Grandad glared at me, furious at my bringing him here.
‘It is, pal. I need to know whose blood is on my conscience. Little people like you get a gun into their hands after fantasising for years. Next thing they’re like a kid with an erect cock, pumping it into everything in sight. How do I know you’re not going to take your bitterness out all over the hospital so that we have another Dunblane on our hands?’
‘Grandad isn’t like that,’ I said.
‘He’s just a quiet family man,’ Luke sneered ‘The very sort to go berserk at one sniff of power. Quiet family men don’t murder their wives.’
‘It’s what she wants,’ Grandad retorted. ‘Now leave the gun and go. I’ll pay whatever money you want.’
‘You don’t know what she wants,’ Luke said. ‘She might be singing “Chitty-Chitty-Fucking-Bang-Bang” for all you can tell. If she told you to jump in the Thames would you do it?’
‘Yes.’
The brevity of Grandad’s reply silenced Luke, who looked at Gran again.
‘All right,’ he said, ‘but let’s get Tracey safely out of it. Even you don’t want her going down as an accessory.’ Luke looked at me. ‘You’ve done your bit, Tracey, go home. There’s no cameras on this corridor. You visited your Gran. Your Grandad was alone. He told you nothing, you saw nothing. Go on now.’
‘You leave the gun and go with her,’ Grandad told him.
‘I’ll see this through,’ Luke said. ‘When Tracey goes I’ll give you the gun. With the silencer and the radio playing no one will hear you. There’s two bullets. If you want to plug her twice that’s your business. I know a back way out of here. Now it’s twenty-five past. Decide if you’re going to turn her into a stiff or not.’
‘Don’t tell me what to do with my wife,’ I heard Grandad say but I wasn’t looking at the men. I kept staring up at Gran’s face, hoping she would give some sign.
‘She’s a vegetable. Now are you going to plug her or not?’
‘Don’t talk about her like that,’ Grandad snapped. Gran blinked and opened her mouth as if about to mumble, but her lips just stayed open, forming an involuntary O. Luke knelt beside me and stroked her face.
‘She must have been a fine looking woman, yet you seem certain this is what she wants,’ he said. ‘Maybe you haven’t the balls to do it.’
Grandad stretched his hand out and Luke gave him the plastic bag. I squeezed Granny’s hand as Luke took my shoulder and drew me up.
‘You’ve done your bit, Tracey,’ he said. ‘You don’t want to see this. Walk out now and keep walking.’
‘I’m going nowhere,’ I said, putting my back against the door. ‘I’m not leaving you two together.’
Grandad turned the radio on loud and took the gun out. It was smaller than the one in Al’s bag and the silencer made it look comic.
‘Move away from my wife, mister,’ Grandad ordered. Luke stepped back and turned to the window, leaving Grandad to get on with it alone.
‘It’s what you always said you wanted, Lily,’ Grandad said. ‘I can’t bear seeing you in such pain any longer.’
Gran suddenly began mumbling that phrase over and over, but it wasn’t clear to me any longer what it meant. Grandad had taken a pillow and placed it tenderly over her hair. His hands trembled so badly that I wasn’t sure if the bullet would miss. Luke turned to watch.
‘Hold the pillow firm,’ he advised. ‘That way there’s less chance of her brains being splattered everywhere.’
‘Will you shut the fuck up, mister!’
Grandad controlled his shaking enough to point the pistol down on to the pillow, aimed directly into her head. It was three minutes to half-past. Anyone could come in. He closed his eyes and tried to squeeze the trigger. But he couldn’t do it and finally the pistol slipped from his grip and clattered onto the ground. His head sank down to rest on the pillow on top of her hair.
‘I’m sorry, Lily,’ he said in tears, ‘I’ve failed you.’
I knelt to retrieve the gun and looked straight up into Gran’s face. She only had that one expression which was impossible to read.
‘I tried,’ Grandad told her in anguish. ‘I haven’t got it in me.’
Gran’s eyes were suddenly still, her pupils staring into mine. How often had I wished her dead in adolescence, cursing her perpetual humiliation of my mother and her second chance quest for a perfect daughter through me? I tried to recapture my hatred and substitute that bitter, formidable woman for the broken creature in this chair. Surely just for once I could do something right? I tried not to give myself time to think of the consequences. I lifted the gun and aimed. She was slumped forward, chained like a half-dead animal. This wasn’t revenge, it was a mercy killing. Nobody should be forced to vegetate like this. Grandad saw what was happening and stepped back, with one palm open wide. I couldn’t decipher what he was trying to say. My hands were shaking. I closed my eyes but I couldn’t do it either. I felt Luke take the gun from my hands and I was so relieved it was over.
‘People think they could kill,’ Luke said quietly, ‘but it’s never easy. Especially with someone you love, no matter how much pain they’re in. Such things are better done by a stranger. Somebody has to release her.’
He reached for the pillow and, placing it to her head, aimed the gun firmly into the centre of it. Both Grandad and I screamed at the same time and threw ourselves forward. We clawed at Luke but were too late to prevent him squeezing the trigger. There was a hollow click before Grandad sent him flying against the wall and flung his arms around Gran. I put my arms around the pair of them, shaking and crying with relief that she was safe. A nurse opened the door to look in. Luke had risen to stand with his feet blocking the gun.
‘Is everything okay in here?’ she said.
No one replied. She walked away but left the door open. Luke knelt to open the gun. He opened it in front of Gran to show her the empty chambers and stroked her face which was wet with someone else’s tears.
‘You’re a very lucky lady,’ he told her. ‘Not everybody gets to find out how much their family loves them.’
Grandad stared at Luke but said nothing. I stepped back, unsure of whether they wanted me to hug them, but Grandad reached his hand back to find mine and squeezed it. I looked at Luke, not sure of what I felt for him. I couldn’t decide if he had played me for a fool. Then he took a hand from his pocket to show me three bullets nestling in his palm. If we still wanted to go ahead, I knew he would have loaded the gun properly for us this time.
How did he seem to always know what people wanted, even when they themselves didn’t? Your family is all you have, he had said, and calculated this situation deliberately to bring us to the brink and made us look beyond it. I stared at him.
‘Donegal,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s up to you. Phone me when you decide.’
The nurse came back in with the trolley. ‘How is Mrs Evans today?’ she asked cheerfully.
Grandad raised his eyes again to follow Luke’s movements as he walked towards the door, leaving us alone.
‘She’s just fine,’ Grandad replied. ‘Now she has her family around her.’
The following day I finally returned to Harrow. Ice had frozen over the pond overlooking Northwick Park hospital. I sat in the coffee shop, in the same seat as on the morning my mother had died. I stood again at the window on the bend of the stairs where I had looked out, numbed by her death, and touched the glass pane as if only now unlocking that grief. I sat in the hospital chapel and cried th
e tears I had been unable to shed back then. I felt good for crying and younger than I’d felt for years. It was like starting a new life again after the horror of that scene in the hospital.
But maybe it wasn’t only a new life for me. I was six days overdue. For the hundredth time I went over that morning in Dublin after Luke pushed me from the taxi. Alone in the hotel and still in tears, I could recall popping the contraceptive pill from its card and holding it in my hand when the night porter arrived unbidden with breakfast. I hadn’t wanted to swallow it in front of him. I remembered the feel of it cupped in my palm as the man lingered, anxious that I was all right. Surely I had swallowed it instinctively after he left, but I’d no memory of doing so. I wondered could I have dropped the pill on the tray beside the toast I was too upset to eat? I had felt so cheap after Luke’s remark that I even wondered if it could have been my subconscious revenge upon Luke or myself? I was scared now, I had even looked up the numbers of abortion clinics. But I didn’t want to think about decisions until I’d had a test done.
I let myself into my grandparents’ house with my old key. The place smelt musty and unkept, even though the breakfast dishes had been washed and left to dry. But the oven hadn’t been used for weeks and dust and cowbebs had finally conquered the shelves and high corners. The rooms seemed smaller than I remembered. I knew Grandad Pete wouldn’t be home from the hospital until six, but I wasn’t really sure what I planned to do. The previous evening I had remained in the hospital for a time after Luke left, but neither of us seemed able to mention what had almost occurred. When I rose to leave Grandad had said: ‘Thank you, Tracey,’ and I realised it was the first time since we met again that he’d used my name. I thought of cooking him a meal, but the kitchen cupboards were almost bare. I sat in the drawing room for a long time before I dialled the number of Luke’s store.
‘Hello, AAAsorted Tiles,’ a voice at the far end answered.
‘Is Luke there?’ I asked and there was silence for a moment.
‘Trace?’ The voice dropped to a whisper I recognised. I almost put the phone down. Just now Al was the last person I wanted to talk to.
‘What are you doing working for him?’ I asked. ‘You said you wanted to get away from your family?’
‘What choice had I? I’ve no money and nowhere else to stay.’ The hint of an accusation infuriated me.
‘That isn’t my fault.’ I said. ‘I didn’t leave you alone in a car with a loaded gun.’
‘It wasn’t like that.’
‘I could have gone to jail because of you.’
‘You sound like your “father”,’ Al sneered.
‘I never set out to deceive you. Luke invented a pack of lies and I had to play along.’
‘Why?’
‘You’re over twenty-one, Al. Figure it out for yourself.’
‘I just couldn’t believe it,’ Al said quietly. ‘You and Luke. What could you see in that fellow?’
‘That’s my business.’
‘He wants you to go away, doesn’t he?’
‘I never told him I was going.’
‘But you are, aren’t you?’
‘It’s finished between us.’
‘Don’t kid yourself,’ Al said. ‘Where’s he bringing you?’
‘That’s my business.’ I was hurt by his tone.
‘Where?’ His voice was taut.
‘Donegal.’
‘Don’t go with him, Trace. Put a stop to it.’
‘This is a stop to it,’ I replied. ‘And I’ll go where I like. At least I can trust him to mind me, which is more than you did.’
‘He thinks we slept together,’ Al said. ‘That’s why he beat me up.’
‘He knows we never slept together. He lost his temper when he found out about the gun. You should have dumped it in the Liffey. I can’t trust you any more. I …’
There was a click at the far end. I was infuriated, thinking Al had hung up rather than face the truth, but then I wondered if somebody had walked into the office. I didn’t want to cause more trouble and decided to wait before phoning back. Al was right, I had decided to go, but I wondered how he knew what Luke was planning. I stared around the drawing room, trying to figure out what was different. Something was missing. Normally there would be a Christmas tree and decorations but it wasn’t that. After five minutes I redialled the number and Luke himself answered.
‘It’s me,’ I said.
‘How is your grandfather?’
‘Shaken. I haven’t seen him today.’
‘He’s a lonely old man, scared of having to cope on his own,’ Luke said and paused. ‘I would have given him the bullets if that was what he really wanted.’
‘I know.’ I waited a moment, not wishing to make it sound like a favour in exchange. ‘I’ll go away with you if you still want.’
‘You don’t have to.’
‘I want to.’
‘Then let’s go tomorrow,’ Luke said. ‘We can fly from Stansted at nine in the morning. I know it’s soon, but the more notice I give people the more roadblocks they put in my path. They’re used to me flying to Europe to buy tiles at short notice.’ He paused, uncertain if I was still there. ‘Tracey?’
But I was only half-listening. I had just realised what was missing from the dining room: it was me. The photographs of my few achievements were gone. Even the cheap plaques I had won in school races had been thrown out.
‘The sooner the better,’ I said, ‘I’ll meet you at the airport.’
I put the phone down and walked into the sitting room to discover it was the same there. All that remained was my absence, hinted at by a succession of slightly less faded squares of wallpaper where picture frames had once been. It made me feel like an intruder. I was hurt. I wanted to leave at once. I checked the rooms for any sign that I had called today. A small porcelain dog stood on the mantelpiece. As a child I had loved the way his head was cocked but I was never allowed to hold it. I picked it up now and stashed it away in my pocket. But I don’t think I did it for spite. Either I wanted a keepsake of this place or else I felt a need to leave an absence to match my own on the wall, a token for Grandad to decipher. I had my coat on and was walking down the hall when the front door opened. We stood for a moment observing each other cagily.
‘I let myself in,’ I said. ‘I didn’t think you’d mind.’
‘No.’ Grandad stared at my coat. ‘Were you going or staying?’
‘I don’t know.’ I was more embarrassed now than annoyed. ‘I had sort of thought that maybe I might cook you something but there’s not much in the kitchen.’
‘No. The canteen in the hospital isn’t bad really. Your Gran never liked me under her feet in the kitchen.’
We were still wary and unsure of each other. But any hostility was gone from his voice. He seemed more like the grandfather I’d grown up with, yet I knew that neither of us were those people any more. I fingered the china dog in my pocket. Why shouldn’t they remove my photographs when I had walked out of their lives?
‘I could do you scrambled egg on toast,’ I offered.
‘That would be lovely.’ He sounded so grateful that I knew he was pleased I’d come. ‘But I don’t know how long the eggs have been there.’
‘Beans on toast then. Baked beans never go off.’
‘No. You could take baked beans to the moon and back.’
He smiled and I remembered afternoons in the alcove in his shop when we would invent imaginary journeys. I saw myself again, in yellow wellington boots, crouched in a cardboard box with a plastic lunch-box on my head as Grandad counted down the seconds to take off before the bell announced a customer’s arrival. The shop had been his kingdom. He hadn’t wanted to retire except that Granny pushed him to accept the chainstore’s offer to buy him out. She had been right, though, if he had refused they would have simply opened a rival store and priced him out of business. He’d received a lump sum for good-will, but had never lost that bemused look since, like the dispossessed monar
ch of some obscure statelet whose former name nobody could remember how to pronounce.
‘I’ll set the table for you,’ he said, closing the front door as if he would love to bolt it. Normally we ate in the kitchen but I noticed that he was setting the dining room table. He took out the china normally reserved for visitors, but the gesture wasn’t meant to make me feel an outsider. It was his way of trying to make the meal special. The bread was stale but it seemed okay toasted. It felt good to cook for somebody else again. I wanted to give him food to match the occasion, but all I could find was an unopened Swiss roll, one tin of skipjack tuna and one of salmon. I choose the tuna, made a pot of tea and brought everything in on a tray.
‘Tuna and beans on toast,’ I announced, transferring it on to his china plate. We stared at each other and laughed. The scene had that illicit sensation from childhood. We were both thinking what if Gran could see us now, eating tuna and beans on toast off china plates on her best tablecloth.
‘This is lovely,’ he said. ‘Food always tastes nicer at home.’ He went into the kitchen and returned with two cans of beer. ‘Do you want a glass?’ he asked.
‘No.’
He opened a can and handed it to me, then opened the other for himself. We laughed again, like children.
‘We could have had tinned salmon if you preferred,’ I said.
‘Don’t tell your Gran, but I always hated tinned salmon,’ he replied, sharing a secret. ‘For some reason she still thought it was posh, but I developed a taste for the real thing as a boy when my Dad worked down the Billingsgate fish markets. Sometimes fish walked out of there under the supervisors’ noses, wrapped in old newspapers.’
‘Real salmon,’ I said.
‘So fresh you’d think it was going to start floundering around on the table. But the real treat, though it only happened twice, was when my Dad brought a whole turbot home. A beautiful fish. You rarely see it on sale now.’
‘I never heard you talk about your father before,’ I said.
‘I never thought you’d be interested.’ He took a bit off his plate. ‘This is lovely. I can taste it. Everything else has tasted like sawdust since your Gran …’
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