Cathy and I drank more slowly and mixed our whisky with drops of water. She smoked and I had a few too. We stayed in the men’s conversation for the most part but dipped out now and then.
‘Most people round here rent their houses from Mr Price,’ said Peter. ‘And if they don’t rent from Mr Price, their landlord is a friend of his. All the landlords round here go drinking and shooting up at manor. They all have dealings, as they say. They’ll have money invested together. Bubbling around in the same pot.’
‘Where’s pot?’
‘I don’t know, John. Don’t ask me. I don’t even have a bank account any more and when I did it’s not like I had cause to care much for interest rates and investments. But they all have fingers in the same pies. All landlords round here. All led by Price. They’ve all got investments in same businesses and give each other tips. Trading tips. Farming tips. Landlording tips. That sort of thing, I don’t know. But Price is top dog. Always that. So if he takes against someone, they’re out. And it means that – one way or another – Price owns county.’
‘A lot of his business is legal then?’
‘Most of it. Ninety per cent of what he does is above board. It’s just you see other ten per cent because that’s world you’re in, John.’ Peter let out a half-laugh. ‘Why? You thinking of following some kind of paper trail? Uncovering evidence? Going to police?’
Daddy looked at his huge, knotted hands. ‘No. No, you know I could never do owt like that.’ He almost blushed. ‘And you know I could never involve police, neither. As you say, what’s ten per cent of Price’s world is all of mine, as well you know. Nothing I have is based in any law.’ He looked over at Cathy and me, watching him gently. ‘Not land. Not cash under my bed. Not my profession. Not even them.’ He nodded at us. ‘Not even my children. I don’t know if any law or piece of paper could connect them to me. But they’re mine through and through, that’s plain to see.’ He looked back towards Peter and drained his glass. ‘And I woundt involve police anyway. They belong to Price around here too. Big ones anyway. Police chiefs and councillors that I’ve seen driving up to manor.’
Peter refilled Daddy’s glass and continued to speak. ‘I know of two families he’s put out on their arses in last year because they coundt meet rent increase. But don’t take my word for it. You’ll need to speak to others if you want to know more. Ewart Royce and his wife, Martha. Ewart’s the cleverest man for miles around and he still cares about area. He were a union man, back when the pit were still open. And he were a decent one. He’s well connected among the people who aren’t connected to Price. Ex-miners, sons of ex-miners, tenants, labourers and unemployed. He knows about the law too, though I know you don’t want that. But he’s part of your world too. He likes a bet. He likes a horse-race. He likes to watch a good fight and he trades with travellers and gypsies as well as working men. You want to know how to keep your house? You should talk to Ewart Royce.’
We stayed up for hours. Daddy and Peter drank all through the night and I fell asleep in the beanbag I had been sitting in with my head propped against a cushion that was in turn squashed between the radiator and a cabinet. I woke thirsty and when the first light came up on the horizon I went to the sink to fill my empty glass with water. I drained it and filled it for a second time to take back with me to my makeshift cot.
Peter was asleep in his bed and Daddy was there too, under a thin blanket, sprawled with his head at Peter’s feet. Cathy had made herself as comfortable as she could on the floor with cushions, a duvet and her head resting awkwardly on the other beanbag. I saw an empty glass by her left hand. I picked it up, rinsed it under the tap and filled it with water for when she woke up, parched like I had been, and needed a drink. She stirred when I placed the full glass on the floor but not enough to wake. I returned to my place by the radiator, shut my eyes and slept intermittently for the next two or three hours.
Daddy, Peter and Cathy woke only when the sun was so high in the sky it could not be ignored. It was nearly 10 o’clock and it was bright. Sharp rays had nudged the hems of the thin poly-mix curtains to the sides and filled the room with a precise light.
Daddy rolled to his side, woke, and was up. He headed straight to the bathroom. I heard the taps running and the sink filling with water and a few minutes later the sound of that cold water being displaced by his head as he plunged it beneath the surface. The door opened with his elbow against it, pushing. He had taken off his shirt and had washed his body too. The black hair on his chest was wet and soapy where he had not rinsed himself properly. He was rubbing his face dry with a tea towel but water dripped from his hair and beard onto his shoulders and onto the carpeted floor below. He roughly shook out his shirt and put it back on, fastening the buttons from bottom to top.
Peter stirred. He was slower to wake than Daddy. Cathy was lying on her back. Her position was the same as it had been when she slept but her eyes were now wide. She watched Daddy as he buttoned his shirt. I had been sitting up on my beanbag for some time, sipping water, unable to sleep but unsure of how to be awake.
We left the house soon after. A girl, a boy, two men. Hungover, half-asleep. We stopped for a quick breakfast at a bakery on the High Street. In the mornings it served bacon, sausage and egg sandwiches. I had bacon then asked Daddy if I could have an iced bun like a shy child with a sweet tooth. He paid 50p for three. For the road, he said.
The Royces lived in a nicer part of the village where the houses were well-spaced and the gardens greener. There were cars here, parked in driveways, washed and polished. The privet hedges were trimmed regularly and the well-mown front lawns that sat to the sides of the gravel drives were surrounded by planters, ready for the spring shoots. Net curtains obscured every window and most were so clean and clear it was as if the glass was hardly there.
The Royces lived in a house with double-glazed windows. They drove a dark blue Volvo. There was an undersized fountain in their front garden that was half-hidden by an overgrown buddleia. The water burbled from within a shard of limestone.