Paige.’ The chubby blonde child holding his hand stared back gormlessly at us. ‘Paige is eight.’ (
Eight?
What had I produced in the last eight years?) ‘And these little monsters are Tate and Logan.’
Tate and Logan? Bloody hell.
‘That’s my missus, Lindsay, over there.’ He pointed to a pretty, dark-haired girl chatting to Joe’s brother. ‘We’ve got another on the way in January.’
‘Wow, Anthony, are you going for world domination?’ asked Joe. ‘An assembly line of Vozzies keeping the whole of the northwest in wallpaper?’ (Voz’s dad owned the Wojkovich Wallcoverings empire.)
‘You’ve got to get cracking while you can.’ Voz laughed. ‘Any of you got kids yet?’
‘No, no …’ said Joe.
‘Not that you know of, eh, Sawyer?’
‘And what about you, Kingy?’ said Voz, when nobody said anything. ‘I hear you work up on the funny farm?’
‘Yep. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, eh?’ I smiled.
‘So are you like a shrink? A psychiatrist?’ Voz asked.
‘Well, no, I can’t prescribe the drugs, but I can administer them.’
‘What, someone leaves you in charge with a
needle
?’ Voz seemed genuinely alarmed by this.
‘Yes, and in people’s own homes. I visit people at home who have mental-health problems.’
‘Can you do something about my missus? She’s got a few mental-health problems.’
‘I tell you what – because it’s you, Voz – I’ll do a two-for-one.’
Voz turned round at the sound of two girls talking loudly. ‘That’s Saul Butler’s wife, isn’t it?’ he said, gesturing to the one with red, bob-length hair. ‘Is Butler not here, Joe?’
I looked quickly to Joe.
‘No, I invited him – his kids all went to one of the playgroups Mum ran.’
So Saul Butler had kids?
‘But he never got back to me, so – you know – his loss.’
Voz grinned at me and for a second he was just little ratty, giggly Voz again, who used to cry actual tears when he laughed. ‘I reckon Butler always fancied you, Robyn. I bet he was well jealous of you, Joe.’
Joe smiled at me. ‘Well, yes, I was a very lucky boy.’
‘I always remember that time up at Black Horse Quarry, when you jumped in. D’you remember?’ Voz said, adding, ‘When you nearly died?’
‘How could I forget?’ said Joe.
‘That was a competition for Butler, that was.’ Voz said, pointing decisively. ‘I’ll never forget his face, standing at the top of that hundred-footer. Absolutely gutted that you had the balls to jump and he didn’t.’
‘Yeah, well, turned out he was the sensible one, didn’t it?’ said Joe. ‘I might well have died if Robbie hadn’t saved me that day.’
‘Och,’ I said, modestly. ‘No …’
One of the twins in the buggy started to cry then, thank God. ‘Right, well, I’d better get these rug rats home,’ said Voz. ‘You take care.’
The moment Voz trundled off with his army of children, Joe’s face collapsed. I remember that effort too.
‘Tired?’ I said.
‘Yeah.’ He took my hand. ‘Look, don’t go, Robbie. Come back for the wake.’
Robbie. Nobody but Joe ever called me Robbie.
‘I can’t, Joe. I have to get back to London.’
‘So do I,’ he said.
‘You’re in
London
now?’
‘Well, Manchester, but you
see
,’
he said, pointing, ‘that stopped you. You didn’t know that, did you? You didn’t know I lived in Manchester. We’ve got so much to catch up on.’
‘
Joe
,’
I sighed.
Didn’t he get that I wasn’t just some unfeeling cow but that I was trying to make a polite exit here without having to go into one?
‘Come on, I haven’t seen you for three years. I don’t want to go back on my own and face all those people.’
Then it clicked.
It was a funeral, his mother’s funeral. What was I
doing
?
Chapter Six
‘Only plus of being a vicar’s son,’ Joe used to say, ‘is that you get a big house’; and it
was
big compared to the houses most kids who went to our school lived in, but not, I
Eight?
What had I produced in the last eight years?) ‘And these little monsters are Tate and Logan.’
Tate and Logan? Bloody hell.
‘That’s my missus, Lindsay, over there.’ He pointed to a pretty, dark-haired girl chatting to Joe’s brother. ‘We’ve got another on the way in January.’
‘Wow, Anthony, are you going for world domination?’ asked Joe. ‘An assembly line of Vozzies keeping the whole of the northwest in wallpaper?’ (Voz’s dad owned the Wojkovich Wallcoverings empire.)
‘You’ve got to get cracking while you can.’ Voz laughed. ‘Any of you got kids yet?’
‘No, no …’ said Joe.
‘Not that you know of, eh, Sawyer?’
‘And what about you, Kingy?’ said Voz, when nobody said anything. ‘I hear you work up on the funny farm?’
‘Yep. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, eh?’ I smiled.
‘So are you like a shrink? A psychiatrist?’ Voz asked.
‘Well, no, I can’t prescribe the drugs, but I can administer them.’
‘What, someone leaves you in charge with a
needle
?’ Voz seemed genuinely alarmed by this.
‘Yes, and in people’s own homes. I visit people at home who have mental-health problems.’
‘Can you do something about my missus? She’s got a few mental-health problems.’
‘I tell you what – because it’s you, Voz – I’ll do a two-for-one.’
Voz turned round at the sound of two girls talking loudly. ‘That’s Saul Butler’s wife, isn’t it?’ he said, gesturing to the one with red, bob-length hair. ‘Is Butler not here, Joe?’
I looked quickly to Joe.
‘No, I invited him – his kids all went to one of the playgroups Mum ran.’
So Saul Butler had kids?
‘But he never got back to me, so – you know – his loss.’
Voz grinned at me and for a second he was just little ratty, giggly Voz again, who used to cry actual tears when he laughed. ‘I reckon Butler always fancied you, Robyn. I bet he was well jealous of you, Joe.’
Joe smiled at me. ‘Well, yes, I was a very lucky boy.’
‘I always remember that time up at Black Horse Quarry, when you jumped in. D’you remember?’ Voz said, adding, ‘When you nearly died?’
‘How could I forget?’ said Joe.
‘That was a competition for Butler, that was.’ Voz said, pointing decisively. ‘I’ll never forget his face, standing at the top of that hundred-footer. Absolutely gutted that you had the balls to jump and he didn’t.’
‘Yeah, well, turned out he was the sensible one, didn’t it?’ said Joe. ‘I might well have died if Robbie hadn’t saved me that day.’
‘Och,’ I said, modestly. ‘No …’
One of the twins in the buggy started to cry then, thank God. ‘Right, well, I’d better get these rug rats home,’ said Voz. ‘You take care.’
The moment Voz trundled off with his army of children, Joe’s face collapsed. I remember that effort too.
‘Tired?’ I said.
‘Yeah.’ He took my hand. ‘Look, don’t go, Robbie. Come back for the wake.’
Robbie. Nobody but Joe ever called me Robbie.
‘I can’t, Joe. I have to get back to London.’
‘So do I,’ he said.
‘You’re in
London
now?’
‘Well, Manchester, but you
see
,’
he said, pointing, ‘that stopped you. You didn’t know that, did you? You didn’t know I lived in Manchester. We’ve got so much to catch up on.’
‘
Joe
,’
I sighed.
Didn’t he get that I wasn’t just some unfeeling cow but that I was trying to make a polite exit here without having to go into one?
‘Come on, I haven’t seen you for three years. I don’t want to go back on my own and face all those people.’
Then it clicked.
It was a funeral, his mother’s funeral. What was I
doing
?
Chapter Six
‘Only plus of being a vicar’s son,’ Joe used to say, ‘is that you get a big house’; and it
was
big compared to the houses most kids who went to our school lived in, but not, I
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