Cressy! he shouted.
Cressy! shouted kid.
Cressy running towards them with his suitcases, desert shorts flapping. Wait! he was shouting. Wait! I changed my mind!
The Stuff of Dreams
1953–54
As Betsy sped towards the coast, Cress parried the whys and hows with a version of events that made Ulysses and the kid laugh. Or gasp. The truth, though, was quieter than entertainment. Carried more sentiment, as the old boy might have said himself.
And this version had begun three months before, when Old Cress had been sitting with Ulysses on a bench, overlooking the canal. The sun had been low, firing the water with sharp flames of pink and gold. Ulysses had just expressed his fear about leaving London, and Cress had said, It’s about Peg and the kid, ain’t it? And Ulysses had said, And you.
And you.
Those two words had confused Cress because not much love had ever come his way. The deep satisfaction of hearing those words, mixed with the sorrow of never having heard them before made for an uncomfortable alliance, and prompted him to say, Nothing’s forever – a trite and clichéd response to a young man’s declaration of care.
So, what’s this place Florence like? he’d said.
Like that, said Ulysses, and he’d pointed to the colours illuminated in the canal, the shimmering peace, the iridescent light. And Ulysses had said, What would my dad do, Cress?
And Cress had said, That’s easy, son. Everything on the black, and he’d flicked his cigarette away.
And then Ulysses said it.
Come with me, Cress.
I’m too old, said Cress.
Too much love for one day. I’m too old. End of.
The nights that had followed this conversation had brought Cress little sleep. Too many what ifs resided on the pillow and they were niggly and hard and pushed the old boy out in search of answers.
Too old? said the cherry tree. That’s a bit ripe. One of my ancestors is more than a thousand years old and they’re still up for stuff. Your idea of time is obtuse.
You reckon? said Cress.
Just saying.
A breeze slipped through the branches and made the prunus serrulata shudder. I love it when it does that, said tree. And another thing – I always thought you wanted a passport? You’ve been going on about it for years.
And it was true, Cressy had.
So, Cress filled in the application, and a couple of months later – early May, it was – he received a passport in the post, a distinct creak in the spine when he opened it.
But still the decision grumbled.
Tree said, You’ve got the time, and you’ve still got the money.
Cress nodded – it was true, he did.
And for years you’ve felt like a change.
I have.
It’s that Peg, isn’t it? said tree eventually.
And Cressy’s shoulders slumped. Yeah, he said. It’s her.
Cress met her by the canal a couple of days later. Clack clack clack down the stairs she came.
You decided yet? she said, and he shook his head. You want me to decide for you? she said, and he nodded.
Go, she said. You always wanted to see the world. Go look after them for me. Keep ’em safe.
And Cress held her hand and said, I’m getting on. I couldn’t bear to think I’ll never see you again.
It’s Italy, Cress, not the bleedin’ moon. And she got up, kissed his head and didn’t look back.
Next day Cress went to Thomas Cook in the West End and bought his ticket. He’d written the time of Ulysses’ ferry on a slip of paper and pushed it across the counter to the young woman. Dover, Calais, he said. One way, he said. One way? smiled the young woman. Cress nodded. There was something regal in the way life was unfolding.
So when you off? said the tree.
Day after tomorrow, said Cress.
Ooh blimey, soon.
Cress nodded and supped his stout.
You got a lot to do?
One or two things.
Tree said, Thanks for everything. It’s been nice knowing you.
You too, said Cress. Will you be OK?
I’m a tree. I’ve done this a thousand times before.
Done what?
Goodbyes.
Really?
Think about it. Leaves.
Dover came into sight just before lunch and the Jowett Bradford entered the Eastern Docks where the air smelt of diesel and salt. Beyond the cranes and jetties, the open sea beckoned and there was a fair chop to the water. The day was cold. The day was doing its best impression of November.
They parked up in the customs shed and stretched their legs. Ulysses told Cress to leave the small suitcase with the rest of the luggage, but Cress insisted he keep it with him. And maybe it was Cressy’s unusual attire, or the one-way ticket out of England they all held, but the cursory searches of other vehicles became a full-blown search of theirs. Kid found it exciting and shadowed the humourless customs officer, much to his annoyance.