‘Yes.’
Evelyn scrunches up her face.
William leans forward and takes her hands. ‘Mum, please, I want them both to hear me sing. I promise, they won’t turn me into an undertaker, or a homosexual!’
‘William!’
‘Mum! I live in a boarding school, do you think I don’t know about this stuff?’
‘OK! I admit it. If they both come, first of all, I won’t get a look in, you know what it’s like. And second, yes, I’ll be embarrassed. So shoot me!’ She takes a deep breath and sits back. ‘Please, William, let me have this one day, without all the stuff I have to deal with when I’m with them. I just want to enjoy it. And not think about anything but being the proudest mum on the planet.’
There’s no point arguing, nowhere for them to go with this. ‘OK, Mum, but it’s not what I want. At all.’
She’s radiant in her relief. ‘Let’s order pudding, and then I’ll hit the road to Swansea! New life, here we come!’
He orders jam roly-poly and makes small talk, but he can’t stop images of a distraught Uncle Robert pleading with his mother late at night.
29
The days are getting longer, but at 7 p.m. that evening, it’s already pitch black. William and Martin are sitting on the vestibule bench, back from evensong, leaning down, changing shoes, almost cheek to cheek.
‘Good time with your mum?’ Martin says quietly, busy with his shoe laces.
‘Yes and no,’ William replies, also focusing on his feet. This is the first conversation Martin has initiated all term. ‘She told Robert he couldn’t bring Howard on Ash Wednesday because it’d be too stressful for me having them all there, but she told me it was because his back couldn’t take the journey and the pews.’ They remain on the bench as the others start to head upstairs. ‘So I called her out on it.’
‘And?’ Martin sits up and looks straight ahead, but William feels his concentration.
‘She apologised, but still doesn’t want them both there. She always feels left out. Plus she’s embarrassed.’ He realises what he’s just said and feels a rush of blood to his face. ‘Sorry!’ Martin turns to look at him.
William is relieved just to be looked at again by his friend. ‘Martin, I’m so sorry … at your house …’
‘Shhhh!’ Martin puts his hands over his ears and shuts his eyes. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘OK.’ William lightly touches his arm. ‘I won’t.’ After a moment’s silence, William decides to carry on as if that last bit hadn’t happened. ‘I told her it was OK, but it’s not. I’ll always wish that they could have been there and however much they want to, they’ll never go against Mum’s wishes.’
‘No, she’d have to invite them herself,’ Martin says simply. ‘Come on’ – he stands up – ‘we should go.’
The idea lands and pierces like an arrow. ‘You’re a genius!’ William says, running to catch Martin up on the staircase. ‘I write to them pretending I’m her. She apologises and says she wants them both to come!’ They stand outside the dorm, across the threshold from pre-supper mayhem.
Martin’s scowling. ‘Last time we tried this trick it didn’t go too well.’
‘We were stupid ten-year-olds,’ William says. ‘I’m leaving here soon. This solo is what it’s all been about for me. I’ve got a tiny family. I want them there!’ He pauses. ‘So would Dad.’
‘And what then? Your mum gives them a big hug as we process in?’
‘I don’t care. I just want them to hear me sing. Whatever happens after can take care of itself. Anyway, it’ll be rammed. They might not even see each other until it’s over.’
‘But don’t they live in the same street? Your plan only works if they don’t see each other between now and next Wednesday.’
‘They won’t! Mum’s going to Swansea for two weeks – I think we’re moving there in the summer, by the way – she’s coming straight from there.’
Martin studies William’s face. ‘What about the postmark?’
The solution comes easily: ‘I’ll send a postcard from here – I’ve got one in my locker – I’ll say she’s just said goodbye to me on our last exeat and knows I would want them both there, so she wrote the card while she was still in Cambridge.’