The other three followed him inside. Col went straight to the optics. Two punches of gin straight down.
That bad? said Peg.
I don’t want to talk about it, said Col.
Yeah, you do, she said.
I forgot the tin opener, he said. The IV stand fell on her when we were getting into bed—
What IV stand? said Peg.
It caught her just here, said Col, pointing to the corner of his eye. And in the middle of the night, what she thought was my toe, was in fact a rat.
Christ, said Peg.
But it was the way she looked at me, Peg. That was the worst. As if I was the lowest form of life.
A phylum porifera, said Cress.
What?
A phylum. A phylum pori—
Stop fucking saying the word phylum!
That’s the lowest form of life, said Cress. A sponge.
I don’t think I could feel any worse, said Col.
Yeah, you could, said Peg. Ginny’s pregnant.
Pub closed due to
UNFORESEEN
circumstances
Ulysses swept a path through the wreckage. Under his feet the crunch of broken glass and to his left a pile of splintered chairs next to the hearth.
The assault had been fast and furious and mercifully curtailed, due to Col’s lack of fitness and high blood pressure. He’d fallen to his knees, panting and burping, as wave after wave of acid fell onto gastric shores. In the doorway, Ginny staring, a flash of insight into why her mother may have left.
Ulysses picked up a table and set it on its legs. Whorls of dust and blue feathers rose on a current of air. Claude had suffered another sudden moult that had left him with wing and tail feathers only. He was one of the innocents. So too was the stuffed stoat. An ashtray to the lower jaw had resulted in the mandible hanging, literally, by a brown thread.
Ulysses lit a cigarette.
Outside, the growing murmur of voices. Mostly the old ones with an aggressive thirst on them. He looked at his watch. Pub should’ve been opened by now and they’d been known to riot for less.
He heard Mrs Lovell say, Unforeseen means unexpected. And then he heard: Unexpected? What? Death? Col wouldn’t close for death. Unless Col had died. What? Col’s dead?
Such was the derivation of rumour.
Suddenly, a knock at the door. It was a pianist’s knock: good rhythm, light touch. Pete’s long face peering through the stained glass.
Ulysses opened the door and ushered Pete in. Through the crack, he pushed Mrs Lovell and her roast dinner back. We’ll be open this evening, Mrs Lovell, he said. I promise.
Is Col dead? she asked, relishing the role of spokesperson.
Not when I last checked, said Ulysses, and he closed the door, pulling the bolt across. Pete looked about gobsmacked. He said, I was just passing when I saw the crowds outside. Col have one of his turns?
You know how it is. You all right, Pete?
Not bad, Temps. You?
Not bad, Pete, and Pete followed him inside on tiptoe. I don’t want to touch anything in case I make it worse, he said.
Ulysses carried the velvet stool back over to the piano.
I hate to ask, said Pete.
Miraculously untouched, said Ulysses. Peg put herself between him and it. He had the poker raised above his head. Don’t you dare, Col! she shouted. Don’t you dare! And she threw herself across the keys.
Joan of bloody Arc, said Pete. What happened next?
It was like he was hypnotised. He dropped the poker, started to blink and held his stomach.
And then what? said Pete.
He fell to the floor exhausted.
Peg kick him?
No, Pete, she didn’t. She’s up there with him now.
He sedated?
Like a horse.
Where’s Cress?
In the cellar, looking for stock. Most of the spirits took a pounding.
Pete nodded, taking it all in. He sat down on the stool and lifted the piano lid. His fingers danced across the twelve major scales.
So? he said, cracking his knuckles. What can I do for you, Temps?
Something soothing, Pete.
Course. I know just the thing, and he lit the first of two dozen cigarettes.
Ulysses was about to turn away when he said, That’s a lovely jacket, by the way, Pete.
This old thing? I’ve had it years.
All afternoon the public bar of The Stoat and Parot was tended to and never was there a more grateful patient. Chopin’s Nocturnes steered the transformation and Pete played with the same passion he’d mustered for his West End audition. Tables were hammered back into usefulness and paintings were reunited with walls. The fire gorged on splintered wood and soon a warm glow filtered into the space and took it away from death’s door. Ulysses went out in search of more chairs and he did four journeys of four each time. He brought down his dad’s globe and placed it on the counter for Claude to use as a perch. Cress made beef and potato stew and made enough for the evening punters too. Pete said Cress would’ve made a lovely life partner and everyone agreed. Cress took Peg and Ginny and the kid out and they came back with armfuls of cherry blossom. Must have hurt Cress but he didn’t let on. He’d have come to an agreement with the tree. Kid and Ginny decorated the shelves with jugs of pink and white flowers and Peg bandaged the stoat’s jaw and by 6.30 p.m., they all stood back in awe. They’d done it. The pub was ready to open. It looked wonky but loved, and loved it had never been.