He nodded, unable to speak.
David’s shadow fell across the mess of vegetable peelings. Christopher withdrew his hands from Phyllis’s, picked up a potato, which slid out of his hand and fell onto the table, then onto the floor. He jumped from his seat and retrieved it, stood to see Phyllis, also out of her chair, giving her husband a kiss on the cheek.
‘What’s this, a palm-reading?’ said David.
‘It’s called a heart-to-heart,’ she replied. ‘It’s what people who are in touch with their feelings do. I’m trying to give our Christopher some confidence in himself.’
‘What’s not to be confident about?’ David pulled two cans of lager out of the fridge and three glasses from the cupboard. ‘Good-looking lad, plenty of smarts. They must be like flies round—’
‘Don’t you dare, David Griffiths,’ Phyllis said, hitting him playfully on the shoulder. ‘I’ve told him he’s handsome and clever, but he’s more worried about how to chat them up, that kind of thing. You talk to him. You’re a right old gobshite, aren’t you?’ She turned to Christopher and winked.
‘Cheeky sod.’ David shared the beer between the three glasses. He appeared to be devoting his full attention to this simple task. Perhaps to avoid an ice-cream job. ‘You don’t need to chat up anything,’ he said, handing a glass to Phyllis and one to Christopher, though he was still looking down at the table. Christopher followed his gaze, but saw only potato peelings. ‘Questions,’ David continued. ‘That’s what women like. Questions. You need to get out there, find yourself a nice girl your own age and ask her a load of questions.’
There was a pause. When Christopher looked up, he saw that David had raised his glass.
‘Cheers,’ he said, something expectant in his face, as if he had been waiting for Christopher to look at him, to meet his eye. He turned to Phyllis, pulled her towards him and kissed her slowly on the mouth. Christopher watched, helpless, his hands clenching into fists.
* * *
After dinner, David suggested that he and Christopher go for a pint at the local pub. Christopher would have preferred to stay in the warm, next to Phyllis on the sofa, but David had already stood and was pulling his coat from the back of the chair, and for the second time that day, Christopher’s gut instinct told him he had to say yes. Once they were outside, however, David appeared to change his mind.
‘Actually, let’s just go for a walk,’ he said. ‘I’ve had enough beer for one night.’
‘All right.’
The air had turned chilly now that the sun had set, and Christopher pulled his coat tight around him. Together they walked in the dusk towards the beach, which was at the end of the short road, its sand spreading up onto the tarmac. An anxious feeling had overtaken him. He wondered if David was cross with him, though he could think of no reason for this. Perhaps it was because of the boys this afternoon, Darren’s clumsy mention of the Ripper, though why that would make David cross with him, he couldn’t fathom.
He followed David to the shoreline, the soft rush of the sea like car tyres over gravel, an orange sun all but melted into the horizon. David picked up a stone and skimmed it across the water.
‘She’s a very special woman, your mother,’ he said.
‘Phyllis? I know.’
‘She’s kind. She’s too kind actually.’
Christopher said nothing, but the anxiety he had felt surged inside him.
‘It’s great that you’ve found her,’ David went on after a moment, bending to pick up more stones to throw into the sea. ‘And I can see that you’ve become close.’
‘Close,’ Christopher said. ‘Yes.’
David stopped skimming stones and threw his arm around Christopher’s shoulders. With the other hand he grasped Christopher’s waterproof where the hood met the body. There was nowhere to look but into David’s eyes, which were strange and blackish in the fallen light.
‘She loves, does Phyllis,’ he said, his voice thick. ‘She’s a very loving person. She makes people feel special.’
‘Yes.’
‘When I met her, I knew from the word go I was going to ask her to marry me, did I ever tell you that?’
‘No.’
‘Well I did. I knew I’d never find anyone else like her. She’s my absolute world.’ He looked out towards the sea but kept hold of Christopher’s jacket. ‘She is my world,’ he repeated, turning back to him, those eyes again like nails. ‘You understand that, don’t you?’
Christopher nodded, fear in his chest and throat like fire.
‘I understand,’ he said.
David held on for a few more seconds before patting Christopher on the chest as if to flatten it.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Good man.’
Chapter Sixteen
Seeing no sign of Adam, Christopher made his way along to the Skyrack for a pint. David had given him a lift back after the holiday and he needed to stretch his legs after the stultifying hours in the car listening to Queen and to David, who had sung along pretty much the whole way.
The Skyrack was packed. He hadn’t expected it to be so full on a Sunday, but, he supposed, everyone would be back from their Easter holidays and keen to get back into student life. Seeing no space to stand without feeling self-conscious, he stayed at the bar and lit a cigarette. When Adam had first given him a Players No. 6, Christopher had coughed so much he was almost sick. Now he loved to smoke. It solved all the problems of what to do with his hands.
‘Hello, stranger.’
With a pang, he recognised Angie’s voice, and when he turned, sure enough, she was standing behind him. Unsure whether to shake her hand or kiss her cheek, he did neither.
‘Angie,’ he said. ‘I… Hello.’
She didn’t have her glasses on. Her eyelids looked heavy, with booze perhaps, but her eyes had not lost their mischievous, mocking stare. Her plucked brows were raised, adding to her overall ironic expression. To his annoyance, he felt the heat of a blush creep up his neck.
‘Haven’t seen you all year,’ she said, cocking her head and smiling in the way he had not forgotten. ‘October, wasn’t it? And here we are about to go into the last term.’
‘I’ve been busy.’
She looked him up and down. ‘So I see. Buying clothes. The beard. You look different.’
He took a drag on his cigarette, a slug of Tetley’s. ‘Different in a good way?’
‘Yeah. You don’t look quite so much like your mum dressed you.’
He stared at her a moment, unsure, but then she smiled and he smiled too. She was only pulling his leg.
‘Adam dresses me now,’ he said.