"Who's on the boat?" Danny had asked.
"White men."
"What do they want?"
"They want the Indians' land."
"Do they get it?"
"Oh, yes. They promised they wouldn't take it, but they did."
Tom tried to summon the feelings he'd had that day with Danny but he couldn't even find an echo. Only the hollowing memory of his long-lost son and his own lost self.
Chapter Seven
TOMMY AND DICKIE SAT on the vast cream leather back seat of the Bentley, looking out of the open rear window at the crowd of Ashlawn boys that still engulfed Ray Montane and Diane. The boys were jostling one another to get autographs and they kept shouting out Red! Red! and making guns with their fingers and thumbs then blowing the smoke off the end of the barrel which was a sort of trademark thing that Red McGraw did in Sliprock, like the way he said See ya along the trail at the end of every episode.
Ray had long ago run out of the Red McGraw photos that he had brought with him and instead was autographing Speech Day programmes and any other scrap of paper that was thrust in front of him. Diane, at his side, was being kept almost as busy. The photographer from the local newspaper, a rumpled little man whose red cheeks now glistened with sweat, had taken about a hundred pictures of them already but was still snapping away.
"Red! Red! Sign this!" the boys called out. "Please! Diane! You too!"
Charlie Chin Rawlston was standing by, trying to look important and making sure things didn't get too out of hand. He had been smarming up to Ray and Diane ever since they arrived two hours ago, though Dickie said somebody must have first had to explain to the old fool who they were.
Tommy still couldn't quite believe they were here. In her last letter, his mother had told him she and his father wouldn't be coming to the school's summer Speech Day and that Diane would be there instead. But there had been no mention of Ray Montane coming too. Perhaps they'd wanted it to be a surprise.
And it certainly had been. In fact their appearance was probably the biggest sensation Ashlawn had known since one of the chimneys got struck by lightning and crashed down on Matron's Morris Minor (unfortunately she hadn't been in it at the time). Their arrival had been perfectly timed. Parents and boys had all gathered down at the sports field, eating their picnic lunches and watching the cricket team get its annual thrashing from the fathers. The parents' cars, whose make and age announced precisely the social status of their owners, were parked side by side around the boundary, plaid rugs and picnic hampers laid between them on the soggy grass.
Gloomy and famished, Tommy and Dickie sat watching from the steps of the pavilion. Because Dickie's parents were in Hong Kong and never came to any school events, Tommy had invited him to share the picnic Diane was supposed to be bringing. She was already two hours late and Tommy was mortified. And the sight of everyone tucking into their cucumber sandwiches, pork pies and chicken legs was almost unbearable. He was about to apologize for the tenth time when in through the school gates purred a big white Bentley.
It had darkened windows and by the time it had glided across the grass and pulled up some distance from the other cars, at least three hundred pairs of eyes were upon it. There was a hush of anticipation and for a long while, nothing happened. The car just stood there. By now the cricket match itself had come to a halt. Every player, even the umpires in their white coats and panama hats, stood waiting to see who was going to emerge.
"Look," Dickie said.
The driver's-side door of the Bentley was opening. A chauffeur in a dark blue cap and uniform got out and opened the rear door.
"You know who it is, don't you?" Dickie whispered.
" 'Course I don't."
"It's your sister, dumbo. Look!"
And there she was, stepping gracefully out of the car, laughing at something as she smoothed her dress and adjusted her sunglasses.
"Crikey, just look at her," Dickie murmured in wonder.
"And look who's with her!"
Except for the white Stetson, Ray Montane was dressed entirely in black. He was wearing a bootlace tie and a belt with a big silver buckle shaped like a coiled rattlesnake. His boots had silver tips and his shirt was studded with what looked like diamonds, though Dickie said they were probably only rhinestones which weren't so precious. The only thing missing was his gun belt.
Oddly, he didn't really look too out of place because everybody seemed to dress up strangely for Speech Day. Charlie Chin and Ducky Lawrence and some of the other masters were wearing their college gowns, voluminous black capes with giant hoods, trimmed with red or purple satin or white fur, that flopped down their backs. All the boys and staff had flowers with sprigs of fern pinned to their lapels and some of the fathers were wearing gaudily striped blazers. Most of the mothers and older sisters had hats with flowers or feathers in them.
But not Diane. Her hair fell loose in thick, gleaming swirls that bounced as she walked. She was still tanned from her trip to California and was wearing high-heeled sandals and a pink dress that showed her shoulders and enough bosom to have all the boys and most of the fathers transfixed.
In front of everyone she gave Tommy a hug that seemed to go on forever and squeezed all the air from his lungs. Then she said hello to Dickie and made him blush by kissing him on the cheek. Ray shook hands with them both, telling Tommy he'd heard all about him. Tommy hoped that didn't include the bed-wetting. He had the bluest eyes Tommy had ever seen. In the back of the Bentley was a wickerwork picnic hamper at least three times the size of anyone else's. It had a giant F&M on the lid which Diane said stood for the famous shop where they'd bought it. It had all kinds of strange things in it, like pate made from goose liver and black fish eggs called caviar, which Dickie loved but Tommy thought were disgusting. The chauffeur laid rugs on the grass and the two boys sat down and stuffed themselves until they felt sick.
Charlie Chin was supposed to be entertaining the red-faced colonel who had earlier dished out the school prizes and sent everyone to sleep with a long speech about the importance of being a team player, but you could tell he was itching to meet Diane and Ray and eventually he managed to and insisted on giving them a tour of the school. Tommy went with them and soon wished he hadn't because the headmaster kept patting him on the back and sharing little jokes with him as if they were the best of friends. The hypocrisy was sickening. As they walked past the changing room Tommy wanted to say and here's where this slimy creep enjoys thrashing the living daylights out of us.
But something even better happened. Just when they were having tea outside the cricket pavilion, Tommy spotted Whippet Brent talking to the colonel's little ferret-faced wife and whispered to Diane that he was the most savage and sadistic beater of them all. Ray Montane overheard.
"Did he ever beat you, Tommy?"
"Loads of times. He beats Dickie almost every night."
"He's a real pervert," Dickie said.
Ray gave a thoughtful nod.
"What's his name?"
"Mr Brent. We call him The Whippet."
Before anyone thought to stop him, Ray walked straight over and tapped The Whippet gently on the shoulder.
"Excuse me, ma'am," he said, touching the brim of his Stetson to the ferret. "I just need a quiet word with this gentleman. We'll only be a moment."
Brent frowned but allowed himself to be steered aside. Ray leaned in close and talked quietly to him for a few moments. Then he put a hand on Brent's shoulder, smiled sweetly at him and walked back to join Tommy and Diane. The Whippet looked as if he'd just seen his own ghost.
"What on earth did you say to him?" Diane whispered.
"I told him if he ever laid a finger on either of you again, I'd come back and shove his whippety pervert nose right up his ass."
Now, as the afternoon drew to a close and Ray and Diane were standing by the car, signing the last few autographs, Charlie Chin moved in again.
"All right, boys, that's enough now. No more autographs. Mr Montane and
Miss Reed have got a very busy schedule, I'm sure."
"Hell, Charlie, I was figuring on staying all day," Ray said.
The headmaster threw back his head and brayed with laughter as if this were the funniest remark he'd ever heard. Ray looked into the car and gave Tommy a sly sideways wink from under the brim of his Stetson. Tommy already liked him, though he still couldn't get used to the idea that this huge star, Red McGraw from Sliprock, was now his sister's boyfriend. It was almost as amazing as if she had come home from Hollywood on the arm of Flint McCullough. Ray looked quite a bit older than he did on TV—and certainly a lot older than Diane—but that was probably because he spent so much time out in the sun, riding the range.
"Well, I certainly hope you'll come and see us again," the headmaster went on, his eyes darting furtively to Diane's breasts. "Both of you. I mean... Um, in fact, Mr Montane, perhaps you would like to come and be our guest speaker at next year's Speech Day?"
"Well, Charlie, that's real—"
"You don't have to answer now. I know in the glittery world of show business one has to speak to one's agent and all that malarkey." He laughed loudly at his own worldly wit.
It was six o'clock now and Speech Day was officially over. The boys were allowed to go home until the same time the following evening. And then just five more days and it would be the end of term and home for two whole months. Tommy quietly asked Diane if Dickie could come home with them because he had nowhere else to go but she said no, perhaps some other time. There were important family matters they had to discuss, she said. There was an odd, almost nervous look in her eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"I'll explain later, darling."
"It doesn't matter," Dickie said. "This dump's okay when there's nobody here."
He climbed out of the car and said goodbye and after more gushing from Charlie Chin, the chauffeur ushered Ray and Diane into the back seat, either side of Tommy, and off they went. A posse of boys ran alongside the car all the way to the school gates, waving and cheering and shouting See ya along the trail.
Then there was silence. Ray took two cigarettes from a silver case, lit them both and passed one to Diane. For a long time nobody spoke.
"Is Ray coming home with us?" Tommy whispered.
"Yes, but he's not going to stay. He's got to get back to London. He's flying home tomorrow morning."
"All the way to California?"
"That's right, son," Ray said.
"That's a shame."
"Yep, it sure is. But you know what, Tommy? I reckon pretty soon the two of us will be seeing a whole lot more of each other."
"Oh."
Ray glanced at Diane and Tommy turned to look at her too and saw that same odd look in her eyes. She tried to smile then turned away and stared out of the window. And although Ray and Tommy chatted about all kinds of things throughout the journey home, she didn't say another word.
Tommy hadn't been allowed home from school for many weeks and so when the Bentley pulled into the driveway he was expecting his parents might come out to greet him. But they didn't. And Ray didn't even come into the house. They all got out of the car and the chauffeur put Diane's leather suitcase down on the gravel beside her. Ray shook Tommy firmly by the hand.
"Look after my gal for me, okay, pardner?"
"Okay."
Ray grinned and did the little smoking gun thing with his fingers and thumb and Tommy did it back to him. Then Ray put his arms around Diane and kissed her full on the lips.
"Good luck, sugar," he said. "You'll see. It's gonna work out fine."
Diane didn't say anything, just nodded. Then Ray got back into the car and the chauffeur shut the door and Tommy and Diane stood and watched as the Bentley turned in the tiny driveway then purred off down the lane. Diane put an arm around Tommy's shoulders.
"Come on," she said. "We'd better go inside."
* * *
She had rehearsed the speech a hundred times in her head, even done it aloud in front of the mirror, as she did when she was learning her lines for a new play. But it didn't seem to help. She felt more nervous than she'd ever felt on stage, even on a first night in the West End. Plays were just make-believe but this was real life. What was more, she already knew the audience was going to be hostile.
Her parents were waiting for them in the lounge. The cricket scores were being read out on the television but nobody was paying any attention. Her father was sitting in his usual armchair, smoking his pipe and reading his newspaper. Her mother was at one end of the sofa with a half-empty glass of gin and tonic in her hand. You could tell from her eyes and the flush in her cheeks that it wasn't her first. As Diane and Tommy came into the room she leaned forward and stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray.
"Hello, Tommy," she said wearily.
"Hello."
Tommy walked over to her and she turned her cheek so that he could kiss it. Diane could tell from his frown that he already sensed something was wrong. Her father cleared his throat and gave him an awkward, forced smile.
"Hello, old chap. How was Speech Day?"
"It was fine. What's the matter?"
Diane's parents were both looking at her, waiting for her to speak. Her father looked sad and weary and suddenly very old. Her mother's eyes glinted with a cold and barely contained anger. After all that had been said during the past week, the shouting and threats and recrimination, it was all Diane could expect. They had spent three whole days and nights arguing before she had finally stormed out and gone back to London to be with Ray at his hotel. He was the only one who understood. Without him she wouldn't have been able to summon the courage.
But this wasn't how she had planned it. Last night on the phone, her father had begged her again, for the last time, not to go ahead with it. And when she said she wasn't going to change her mind, reluctantly, they had agreed that when she brought Tommy home from school, they would first have a family supper and then, as gently and lovingly as possible, tell him. But the air was already bristling. She had to do it now. She was still standing by the door. They were all staring at her. On the television the cricket scores droned on.
"What is it?" Tommy said. "What's wrong with everybody?"
"For heaven's sake, Diane," her mother said. "Just get it over with."
Diane walked stiffly across to the television and switched it off. Then she came back to the sofa and sat down at the opposite end from her mother. She tried to smile but it felt as phoney as it must have looked. It was as if all her acting skills had suddenly deserted her. She patted the cushion beside her.
"Tommy, darling. Come and sit here. There's something I've got to tell you."
"What?"
Instead of simply puzzled, he now looked frightened. Warily watching her, he came and sat down next to her. Diane took his hand in both of hers.
"Tommy, this is something I've wanted to tell you for a very long time. In fact, all of your life. But I've never been brave enough."
She glanced at her parents. Her mother shook her head and sighed and looked away.
"All these years, darling, you've thought that I was your sister. Well. I'm not."
"What?"
"Tommy... I'm your mother."
Tommy gave a confused little laugh.
"Is this a joke or a trick or something?"
He looked around and saw from their pained faces that it wasn't.
"I was very young when I... when you were born. Only just sixteen. And we all decided that it would be better, at least for the time being, if everyone thought that I wasn't your mother but... your sister, instead."
She couldn't believe what a wretched job she was making of it. She never normally forgot her lines. But now, when it really counted, she could hardly remember a single word of what she had prepared.
"Why?" Tommy said. "I don't understand."
Diane looked again at her mother, this time out of some desperate, instinctive hope that she might come to the rescue. But the face showed no mercy, just
a stony disapproval, distorted by drink. Her father looked desolate, his forehead now propped by one hand so that she couldn't see his eyes.
"Tommy, I was so young. I was still at school. Girls that age, if they get pregnant, usually have—"
"Diane, really," her mother said. "He's just a boy. Surely you don't have to go into all that."
Diane ignored her.
"Sometimes, Tommy, when women get pregnant but don't want to have the baby, they can... Doctors can do an operation so that the baby doesn't get born. But I didn't want to do that. I wanted to have you. I..."
The tears ambushed her, suddenly, out of nowhere. And the last thing she wanted to do was cry. She wanted to be strong, and loving. Like a mother should be for her child. She angrily wiped her eyes.
"I'm sorry. It's just..."
Tommy put his arms around her and clung to her and, of course, that made it so much worse. She was sobbing and couldn't help herself. She put her arms around him and now he was crying too. It was all going wrong. She had completely messed it up. Through her tears she saw her mother get up, snatch her empty glass from the coffee table and walk from the room.
"Joan, dear, please," her father called after her.
"I'm sorry, I can't listen to this."
"Joan..."
He got up and hurried after her. It was probably better that way, Diane thought. It had seemed the right thing to do, to tell Tommy when all three of them were there to reassure him and make him feel everything was all right. But she'd been foolish to imagine it could work. Her mother's resentment could never be put neatly to one side. Diane hugged Tommy even more tightly, then held him away from her so that she could look at him. Her son. The poor darling. He was still crying. His face had gone all red and blotchy. Maybe she had made a terrible mistake.
"I know it's an awful shock, darling. But we're all still the same people. We all still love you."
"Why are you telling me this?" He sniffed. "Why now?"
The Brave Page 8
