both your da and your man snatched away from you in their prime. Never mind. We can soon put that to rights.’
‘No!’ she cried. ‘I don’t want him baptized, Mam. And it’s no use bringing in the Inquisition, I’ll not talk to any priests, especially not old Father Bleaney from St Mary’s. He’s half dotty and he doesn’t wash!’
‘You’re not wrong there, girl. He smells of more than sanctity, there’s no denying it. But he’s a holy man for all that. And you’d better understand this. I’m the one who says who’ll come into this house, and you’re the one who’ll be polite to them while you’re living here. God preserve us, if you’d come a half hour earlier you’d have met Father Blake. What would you have done then, my girl? Turned on your heel and flounced off like you used to do?’
‘No. Of course not. Who’s Father Blake anyway?’
‘A colleague of your Uncle Patrick’s, rest his soul. Do you not read my letters as well as not answer them? He comes across from time to time to inspect the Priory College where your uncle worked. He always calls to pay his respects and he brought me pictures of Patrick’s grave. You’ll meet him if you stay long enough. And you’d better be polite. How long are you staying, anyway?’
‘Till I get settled, if that’s all right.’
‘All right? This is your home, whatever you may treat it as. What do you mean, settled?’
‘Till I find a job.’
‘Did he not leave you provided for? Typical Yank. All show. Any man rich enough to drown in his own boat ought to be able to leave his wife looked after. What’ll you do? Try the teaching again?’
‘No!’
Mist on Ingleborough. Not yet thick but blowing in patches. A crocodile of teenagers descending, now visible along its length, now segmented.
Two girls crouching in the lee of a rock to light cigarettes.
‘What are you two playing at? Didn’t you hear Miss Marks tell you to keep close?’
We’ll be along in a minute, miss. We’ll soon catch up with them wallies.’
‘You’ll get along now. Come on. Put those fags out and move yourselves.’
The girls exchange glances, neither wanting to show weakness.
‘For heaven’s sake, don’t act so stupid. Don’t you know how dangerous it can be out here in the mist?’
‘We’re almost down, aren’t we? And who are you calling stupid?’
‘Don’t give me any of your cheek, Betty. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. Move it.’
One girl rises, the other lowers her head sullenly, draws deep on her cigarette, mutters, ‘Get stuffed, you smelly dyke.’
Mist on Ingleborough. An experienced teacher might play deaf, save it for later.
‘What did you say, Betty?’
A glance at her friend. Too far for retreat. The cigarette dangling from the side of her magenta mouth. ‘Everyone knows what old Ma Marks is like. Same with all PE teachers, I expect. Is that what the hurry is? Can’t wait to get us in the showers?’
‘You foul-mouthed slut! And put that cigarette out!’
A hand snakes out. Flesh cracks on flesh, the cigarette goes flying in a trail of sparks.
‘You rotten slag! I’ll get the law on you for this! My mum’ll have your eyes out when I tell her.’
‘Betty, come back. Not that way. Betty!’
‘No need to shout,’ said Mrs Maguire. ‘You always were too sensitive, even as a child. Stop dwelling on things. You’ll never get anywhere if you’re always lugging the past along with you. Oliver, that’s not to play with. Oliver, put that down … There, now look what you’ve done. Are you not going to chastise him then? It’s the only way he’ll learn.’
‘There’ll be none of that, not with my son, Mam.’
‘No? Well, it’s your business, I suppose. And it’ll be you who gets to suffer later. But I’ll tell you this, my girl. I kept that ornament on that shelf all the time you were growing up, and it never got broken. So make what you like of that!’
The streets of home, unchanged but measuring change, familiar sights that no longer include her, that make her a ghost.
Then suddenly a welcoming and welcome voice.
‘Jane? Jane Maguire! I’d know that hair anywhere. I didn’t know you were back in Northampton.’
‘Jimmy. How are you? It’s good to see you. Still running the club?’
‘Such as it is. Tell you what, Jane, we could do with a few young prospects like you. Remember the Junior AA? By God, you shifted that day! I thought, another two, three years, next Olympics maybe … Anyway, what are you doing now? You went to PE college, didn’t you?’
‘That’s right. But I didn’t take to teaching. I worked as a recreation officer with a cruise firm for a while, but now I’m back on the market. Any ideas?’
A shrewd examination. ‘Still in good shape? You look it. PE qualifications? Aerobics, physiotherapy, that kind of thing?’
‘I did a bit on the liners. And I specialized in sports injuries at college. Why?’
‘Chum of mine, George Granger, has started a health centre and I know he’s looking for qualified staff. Trouble is, it’s down in Romchurch, just outside London, so it won’t be cheap living and I doubt if he’ll be paying a fortune.’
‘Romchurch in Essex? I did my training in Essex, near Basildon, not too far away …’
The returning ghost clings to the familiar …
‘Jimmy, can you give me a number? Essex would suit me very well.’
‘Going?’ said Mrs Maguire. ‘But you’ve been here no time at all.’
‘Nearly a month. It’s long enough.’
‘This job. I thought you said you weren’t starting till the beginning of September?’
‘I’ve got things to do, arrangements to make.’
‘About Oliver, you mean?’
‘About Noll. Yes. And other things.’
‘I don’t see how you’re going to be able to work and look after him. He’ll
