The door opens. Huge curlers, quilted dressing gown buttoned to the neck, red slippers. Full make-up. Different. The same. She stands with her hand on the door, still and silent.
‘Well,’ she says, a ghost of a smile lifting one side of her mouth, ‘if it isn’t his Lordship.’ She talks softly. ‘It’s good to see you, William.’
She leans towards him, one arm held out, and he thinks for a moment she’s going to shake his hand. But she’s reaching to his face. She touches it gently, briefly, then puts her hand in a pocket.
‘Let me look at you for a minute. William James, twenty-six years old.’
‘Hello, Mum.’
‘Hello, William.’ She steps back and gestures into the hallway. ‘Are you coming in?’
She leads him into a spacious sitting room, awash with light from the large bay window made up of small rectangular panes, some with distorting balls of glass.
‘Have a seat.’ She points to a generous plush sofa. Once he’s sat down, she sits opposite on a matching armchair with wide arms. The woman who answered the door comes in. Her cheeks are scarlet and she holds her hand to her chest.
‘Evelyn, the car will be here in an hour and we’ve not done your hair or nails yet.’
‘I won’t stay long,’ William says, ‘I just wanted to see you before you got married.’
Evelyn looks at her friend. Is it panic or excitement he sees in the flash of her eyes?
‘We’ll be fine, Norma. If you do my hair and nails now, you can get ready while William and I have a few minutes.’
Norma nods. ‘Just pretend I’m not here.’ She picks up a comb then quickly puts it down again. ‘Tea?’
‘I’ll make it,’ says William, ‘you start her hair.’
‘Grand!’ Evelyn’s smile is radiant, and he was right, she is excited. ‘The kitchen’s on the right, you’ll be able to find everything.’
When he comes back in with a tray, the last of the curlers is coming out and Norma starts combing his mother’s hair. Evelyn has a permanent half-smile on her face, but her hands are tapping in her lap.
‘You look well, Mum.’
‘And it would be a sad thing, if I didn’t have a spring in my step on the day I’m getting married, don’t you think?’
‘What’s he like?’ William busies himself, putting mugs of tea within reach of both women.
‘He’s a wonder, William.’
‘Good.’ He’s suddenly at a loss for words.
‘So,’ she says, pleasant, open, but with a poise that strikes him as a kind of defence, ‘what’s your news?’
He feels sorry for Norma, who gently nudges Evelyn’s head down so she can get to work, looking at his mother’s hair with forensic concentration, as if to reassure him that nothing else going on here is of the slightest interest to her.
‘CBSO are starting a new choir. I’m auditioning next week.’
Evelyn looks up suddenly. No surprise, he thinks, that someone would want to marry her with that radiant face. They may as well be in the Copper Kettle talking about his latest solo. He wishes he was as composed as her. He can’t sit still, inches forward to the edge of the sofa, notices the large bricks of the chimney that dominate the room, his own wedding photo on the mantelpiece.
Norma shakes the hairspray and fills their half of the room with it. She looks at the clock. ‘Half an hour, Evelyn. I wish I could leave you two alone, this is killing me, but both of us need to get changed and I haven’t done your nails yet.’
‘I’ll do her nails,’ William says. Both women look at him with such identical surprise, he can’t help but laugh. ‘I do it all the time in the mortuary.’
Norma’s hand goes back to her chest. Evelyn glances up at her. ‘Welcome to the world of Lavery and Sons, Norma.’
‘I’m pretty damn good at nails actually, Norma.’ William smiles. ‘How about you both get changed, then I’ll do your nails, Mum.’
Evelyn gives a sharp nod and stands up quickly. ‘Game on, Norma!’ She puts her hands on her friend’s shoulders and pushes her from the room. ‘Let’s get a shuffle on!’
He follows them out with the tray and goes into the kit chen. From behind a closed bedroom door, he hears the soft slap of hands and the thud of what he takes to be jumping feet. Grinning, he washes and dries the mugs before going back into the lounge.
He goes straight to the alcove to the left of the chimney, where he noticed the skinny spines of Evelyn’s records standing fresh and pristine, even though she will have listened to all of them many times. Of course, they’re meticulously alphabetised, so it takes him less than ten seconds to find what he’s looking for. He lays it on the turntable ready, then sits back down and waits. As soon as he hears a door open, he jumps up, puts the record on and returns to the settee. The sound quality is even better than Martin’s.