In bequeathing my home to you, I give you equal opportunity and equal dilemma, I know this. But these rooms were once a good home to my mother and I, and good things happened here. You being one.
You will have been informed there’s enough money to cover travel expenses, however you wish to return. There are many options. Enough money to bring a wife too, and children, of course, because I imagine your life to be a full one.
Whatever you choose, I honour.
And so, I close.
I wish you a long and fruitful life, Ulysses Temper. And I give thanks to your parents for naming you so. Had they not, I would never have found you.
[Indeed, said Mr Burgess.]
Your friend,
Arturo
Santo Spirito, Florence
The sun was low, firing the canal with a sharp flame of pink and gold. Coots and ducks skimmed the surface and two men sat on a bench, deep in thought.
All his worldly chattels? said Cress.
Yep. Everything.
Well I never.
Ulysses got up. He pretended to skim a stone. What am I going to do, Cress?
What do you want to do?
I don’t know, I don’t know. He sat back down and put his hands behind his head. I could authorise Mr Burgess to sell everything.
That what you want? The money?
Doesn’t everyone? Would be nice.
Cress lit a cigarette. Comes and goes, does money.
What you thinking? said Ulysses.
Cress pushed back his sleeves and put his hands out front. Equal opportunity, equal dilemma – that’s what he said, right? You’ve got to see it for what it is.
And what is it?
A game of call and response. You called. You may not know it. But you did. You asked for something and you got it. Only you know what you asked for.
Ulysses stood up and kicked at an edge of grass.
It’s about Peg and the kid, ain’t it? said Cress.
And you, said Ulysses.
Nothing’s forever, said Cress, and he blew out a stream of smoke. So, what’s this place Florence like? he said.
And Ulysses said, Like that – and pointed to the colours illuminated in the canal, the shimmering peace, the iridescent light.
And the property bequeathed? said Cress.
Bedrooms. Space. A terrace.
And the two men were silenced.
What would my dad do, Cress?
That’s easy, son. Everything on the black, and he flicked his cigarette away. But by God I’ll miss you, he said.
Come with me, Cress.
I’m too old. Everything on the black, son.
In the days that followed, the talk of the inheritance spread and eclipsed any remnants of gossip about the pregnancy and Davy.
In the pub, Mrs Lovell said, Two halves of stout and what you gonna do?
I don’t know, Mrs Lovell. What would you do?
Take the money and tell those Eyeties where to shove it.
Well, that’s certainly an option, Mrs Lovell. There you go, and Ulysses pushed two glasses of stout across the counter.
Peg and the kid barrelled in through the door. A vein of sadness chugged through his chest.
Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes, he said.
Kid smiled. Where’s Ginny?
Upstairs, he said, and she ducked under the hatch and disappeared.
Peg said, You made a decision yet?
He shook his head. Can we talk?
Can’t now, Temps—
No, no. Sometime. But just us.
You all right?
Ulysses shrugged.
Thanks for looking after her.
I love her.
I know you do, said Peg. What about Friday?
Friday? You not going out?
I’ll get back early, and Peg finished her drink. Friday we’ll talk, she said. Just you and me.
The week ran slow till Friday. It contained a lot of Col clogging up the drains.
You’ve got to understand, they’re not like us. （Col holding forth after work.） All that foreign food.
Cress was standing at the bar with Pete, who was suffering a dose of the morose, his face longer than it had been in months.
I think you’re being a bit harsh, said Pete. I buy sheet music off a lovely Pole.
We’re different planets, Pete. There’s us. And there’s them.
Col using the globe as a prop.
Mainland Europe. And Britain. And in between, the Channel. There for a reason. A God-given moat. And we pull up the drawbridge and tell ’em to fuck off. And we keep our ways. Look at the bleedin’ mess they caused. You should know, Temps, you were over there. What have they ever given us except a bucket-load of heartache?
Col loved the silence that followed; he could have fucked it twice and cooked it breakfast.
Clocks, said Cress.
What? said Col.
What have they ever given us? and I’m saying mechanical clocks.