Big fucking deal.
Well it is rather, said Pete. It’s time.
Cognac, said Ulysses. Cellos.
Glasses, said Cress.
All right, all right. But you’re missing the point.
Here’s a point, said Pete. Photography, suddenly feeling emboldened by his contribution.
Don’t you start, Pete.
Cinema, said Cress.
Submarines, said Ulysses.
Clarinets.
Television.
I’m going to bed, and Col stomped off.
Parachutes, said Claude.
Col came back in and eyed the parrot. What did you say to me?
Par-a-chutes, said Claude, beak to nose.
And a telescope, said Cress.
So, by the time Friday night rolled round, Ulysses breathed a sigh of relief and knocked off at nine.
Who said you could do that? said Col.
You did, said Ulysses.
He was putting the finishing touches to his room when Peg came by. At the door he saw what she saw: that he’d made an effort. Candles on the table, a bottle of fizz dripping with condensation, a bowl of crisps, daffs in a milk jug. The air was sweet and carried the scent of his cheeks. The bedclothes fresh and ironed.
But still it was a room above a pub. Where a sad old demob suit hung in full view. Where every other day the windows were blackened by soot. Where he could hear the arguments inside and those outside too. The stories of struggle. Ginny’s midnight wanderings. Col’s acid groans.
You’ve done it nice, said Peg, closing the door.
She went straight to the mirror and moved a curl away from her forehead. Thirty-three, she said. Who would’ve thought?
Ulysses dealt with the cork. A muffled pop.
That the real stuff? she asked.
He nodded. He was happy he’d spent the money. He handed her a glass and said, Here’s to thirty-three more. Happy birthday, Peg.
This my present?
Ulysses nodded.
Peg became self-conscious and shook the envelope and said, What’s in here then? and Ulysses said, Open it.
Peg pulled out a map. On one side was a photograph of a river, a bridge with buildings built upon it. A rower disappearing beneath. Golden light. FIRENZE written across the sky.
Come with me, said Ulysses.
Peg placed the map carefully on the table.
Come with me, he said again.
She picked up her glass and drank.
Come with me, Peg.
Her, quietly – I can’t. I’m with Ted.
You don’t love him.
I don’t need to.
Come with me. You, me, Alys. We could have a life there. It’s so beautiful, Peg. We could start again.
Learn Italian?
Why not? People learn new languages. Mrs Kaur had to learn English, Mr Wassily too – they all did it. We could. We’re no different.
You’re dreaming.
Not dreaming. A real chance for us.
And Ulysses sat down and spread out the map. Peg – he reached out for her. He was tender and she was softening – Look, this gate here, he said. This is the south side, this is where we came in during the war. Came down to this palace, and these gardens. Big, they were. Fountains and— Her looking at his wonder, his boyhood wonder still there; bright eyes, sleeves rolled high, capable hands that could catch anything – a ball, a falling star – and she wishes she could say yes to him but her imagination won’t reach that far, can’t stretch that far, not since Eddie— —they were all camped out there, he says, all the people. And along here, see? This square. A church, and here, where we’d live. High up. A terrace, too. We could grow things. And we’d look out of a morning, we’d see mountains – imagine that! – and the air, Peg. The air’s clean and— Take Alys.
What?
Take Alys, she said.
No.
Give her the life you want to give me.
She needs her mum.
She needs someone who loves her. Someone she loves.
Peg. （He said her name so sadly.）
I was her once, she said. I see how she is around you. If it’s such a good life, give it her. There’s nothing for her here.
And Peg reached for his hands and kissed them. I’ll beg, if you—
Stop it, Peggy.
Please take her. Show her things and teach her things. That’ll be my present from you. Tell me you will.
Peg lay awake, somewhere between the harsh seam of night and morning. The curve of her body against the curve of him. She’d worn him down, she knew she had. She didn’t feel proud, just empty now. She unpeeled herself and rolled to the edge of the bed. In four hours, her life had changed. Like it had in ’44. All the fours and the gossip to come. She smoothed down the creases in her blouse and skirt. She picked up her shoes and coat and he didn’t stir, and she wouldn’t wake him. He’d promised to take the kid. She felt light-headed and sick and she needed air. She closed the door and crept downstairs.