That’s right.
You should put your name in it, he said.
I might.
Anytime you wanna talk, son, said Col and he threw him the keys and disappeared into the snug.
Ulysses walked down to the canal. The immediate familiar whiff of the place, the icy smoggy chug to the air, the gasometers proud and monumental. He sat on a bench. The slow drift of a barge and then silence. He watched the world hardly move at all. So there’s a kid, he thought, and before he could think further, he looked up to see Old Cressy rushing down the stairs, calling out his name. Ulysses stood up. Cressy’s head smelt of coal dust and cough syrup. You all here, boy? said Cress, holding his face. Mostly, said Ulysses. Thank God, said Cress, punching him lightly on both arms, a playful one-two one-two because the old fella was choked.
They sat down and Cressy raised the bag in his hand and said, Here it is, the only one to survive, and he carefully lifted out a globe the size of a football. He said, It was quite a night, Temps. I heard that all the globes shot into the air when the bomb landed. Hovered in the warm updraught and spun. A mini universe lit by flames. Now wouldn’t that have been something to see? She’s in Nicaragua, by the way.
Who is?
Your mum. I looked for her. Took me over a month. But I found her. In Nicaragua. Next to Managua.
Peg’s got a kid, Cress.
None of it was mine to tell, boy.
I know, Cress, I know.
Ulysses took out his cigarettes.
You know the bloke?
An American fella. One minute here. Then gone.
You see him? said Ulysses, lighting up.
No one did. Kept him away from here, she did. That was decent.
Cressy took a cigarette.
There were feelings, son. He was no fly-by-night.
Ulysses nodded. Peg in a bad way?
She’d bite her own tongue off before saying so, and Cress blew out a stream of smoke and picked a strand of tobacco off his tongue.
Should I go and find her?
You leave her be. She’s got a crap hand of cards and has been bluffing all this time. You turning up means she’s being forced to show. But it’ll be done on her terms. Always is. You forgotten how she works?
They watched a lone swan swim by till it disappeared under the bridge.
Here, said Cress and he nudged Ulysses. Something for you to think about. Something I read.
Go on.
The scale of man – spatially – is about midway between the atom and the star.
Ulysses looked at him and frowned. Atom and a star? he said.
Cress nodded. Spatially, he said.
That’s a lot to take in.
Isn’t it? I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since.
Well, you wouldn’t, would you?
Although a stronger candidate for the midway position would probably be a hippopotamus.
What d’you think it means?
Cress thought for a moment.
Interconnectedness, I think.
And they both nodded that time.
They turned their attention to the canal just as the swan reappeared.
Cress said, You’re back. I reckon I’ll sleep tonight.
You seen who’s back? they said to Peg when she returned from the typing pool. Mrs Lundy the baker had told the butcher who had told the Cranes who owned the café. Gloria Gosford who sold haberdashery was having tea in the café and overheard the butcher tell the Cranes. She went straight to Mr Bellingham who sold furniture. And of course, Mr Bellingham told me, said Linda, who was having a very public affair with the man.
They walked with Peg along the street yacking. Yeah yeah, it’s getting boring now, said Peg to each and every one of them. She was glad to put her key in the lock and close the door.
Later, over gin, Kath said Ulysses had looked reasonable. He’d always been fucking reasonable, said Peg, and Kath said he looked a bit more handsome and she’d said that wouldn’t have been hard and Kath said, Naughty, and she hated she was such a bitch because what had he ever done to her? Only married her in case he died. You’d get money, Peg – that’s what he said. Always looking out for her.
She went upstairs to her room and kicked off her heels. Twenty minutes at the typewriter board flexing her fingers. She was getting good, good at shorthand too. She’d earn her own money in America when Eddie came to get her. He ain’t coming now, Kath had said. What the fuck did she know? He’d bought her the Pitman’s course; said she could have anything she wanted, and he thought she was going to say a fur coat or something shiny, but she said a typing course, and she noticed he looked at her differently that day, like she had dreams too. Like she was worth something. He’ll come because he loves me, she said, and Kath said, I never said he didn’t love you.