Pratt a Manger (12 page)

‘Skeet is a form of clay pigeon shooting,’ said Camilla, who knew about such things, ‘in which targets are hurled from two traps at varying speeds and angles.’

‘I find it difficult to believe that our drunken old tramp was telling us that Benedict shot at targets hurled from two traps at varying speeds and angles,’ said Kate.

‘You wouldn’t say “played skeet”, anyway, would you?’ asked Guiseppe. ‘I mean, you wouldn’t say, “I think I’ll go and play shooting today.” ’

‘Where was this?’ asked Henry.

‘Off the Edgware Road,’ said Jack.

Michelle came over to take their orders. Again, nobody could face the duck Benedict. It remained on the menu out of sheer Yorkshire stubbornness.

Jack asked hopefully if he could have a beer instead of wine. Henry didn’t hear him, but he ordered it anyway.

Henry was miles away, thinking.

‘Edgware Road,’ he said at last. ‘I wonder. Could he possibly have been saying “Praed Street”, do you think?’

Neither Kate nor Jack had ever heard of Praed Street. You wouldn’t have, if you never got trains to Wales or the West Country.

‘Praed Street runs from Edgware Road westwards past Paddington Station,’ said Henry.

‘I suppose it could have been Praed Street,’ said Kate. ‘He
was
very indistinct.’

It was still a long shot, but, long shot or not, Henry didn’t feel it fair that he should give himself and Hilary the honour of covering the Praed Street area that Saturday night. A commander has to make sacrifices. He gave the opportunity of finding Benedict to his mother.

Henry was absolutely convinced that they would find him. Diana and Gunter had no such expectations. Diana’s sense that he was still alive had grown steadily weaker during the long evenings of frustration – and even if he was alive, the tramp might not have been saying, ‘Praed Street’, and even if he had been saying ‘Praed Street’, the fact that he had seen Benedict there didn’t mean that he would necessarily be there that evening.

But Henry’s instinct was right. They found him selling
The Big Issue
on Paddington Station. He was very thin,
and
very pale, and rather yellow, and he looked much older than his thirty-eight years, but he was sober, and he didn’t appear to be under the influence of drugs, and he was neat and clean-shaven. He looked at his mother as if he was sure that he’d seen her somewhere before.

6 A Family Party

‘I’M YOUR MOTHER,’
said Diana.

‘Get away.’

‘I am, Benedict. That’s why I’m out looking for you.’

‘I call myself Ben.
Big Issue
!
Big Issue
!’

‘Do you really not remember me?’

‘I don’t remember much. I was out of my mind for about fifteen years, I think. A lot’s gone.’

‘Well, Ben, I really am your mother and I’d like to give you a kiss. Would that be all right?’

‘Spose so.’

They kissed, awkwardly. Behind them, the Swansea train started up, noisily.

‘
Big Issue
!’ cried Ben.

‘I’ll have one on the way back,’ said a passer-by.

‘Cheers, mate,’ said Ben. He pointed at Gunter, who was standing awkwardly a little to one side. ‘I don’t remember him.’

‘You wouldn’t. You’ve never met him.’

‘He’s not my dad, then.’

‘No.’

‘That’s a relief.’

Gunter smiled bravely.

‘I’m Gunter,’ he said. ‘Gunter Axelburger.’

‘That’s a mouthful.’

‘Yes, it is, isn’t it? Quite a mouthful, as you say.’

‘
Big Issue
!’

At last Ben made a sale. Diana was absurdly pleased for him.

‘If he’s not my dad,’ said Ben, ‘what’s he doing here?’

‘He’s my husband.’

‘I don’t get it.’

It was getting cold on the station forecourt.

‘There’s a lot to tell, Ben, if you want to hear it,’ said Diana. ‘We’ll take you to a café.’

‘I haven’t finished selling my
Big Issues
. I’ve twelve left.’

‘I’ll buy them,’ offered Gunter.

‘That’s not the point. I like people to read them. I don’t like it when people say, “I don’t want one, but I’ll give you a pound.” I’m not a beggar.’

That little surge of pride was the first real sign of Benedicticity, thought Diana.

‘I agree, Ben,’ she said, ‘but there
are
some other members of the family waiting to see you – they’ve been looking for you too – and I
have
just found my lost son. It’s a pretty big moment for me and … just this once, for me, will you let Gunter buy them? Please.’

‘Well, all right.’

Ben handed his pile of
Big Issue
s to Gunter, Gunter handed Ben a ten-pound note and a two-pound piece, and Diana rang Henry on the mobile.

Henry and Hilary got to the Café first. Henry was all for ordering champagne, but Hilary suggested that it might be wiser to wait till they saw how things went.

All six of them were excited, but they were also, in
varying
degrees, apprehensive. It was dawning on them that finding Ben was not the end of the matter. It was only the beginning.

It was a solemn moment when Gunter and Diana led her lost son into the Café.

Henry, who had been confronted by him on King’s Cross Station, thought how amazingly well Ben looked. The others all thought how ill he looked.

He stared at them, utterly bemused.

‘Benedict!’ breathed Camilla.

‘He calls himself Ben now, don’t you, Ben?’ said Diana. She hadn’t intended to sound as if she was talking to a half-wit. She wasn’t surprised that he frowned.

Camilla went to hug Ben, but he shrank away.

‘Who are you?’ he said.

Camilla looked across at Diana, who nodded and then shook her head all in one continuous movement.

‘He doesn’t remember a lot,’ said Diana. ‘This is your sister Camilla, Ben.’

‘She’s my sister?’

‘Yes.’

‘Fucking arseholes!’

‘Absolutely,’ said Henry meaninglessly. ‘Come on, Ben. Sit down.’

They made room for him. Diana and Gunter sat down too. The Café was fairly full, and some of the other customers were looking across at their table and wondering what was going on.

‘What would you like to drink, Ben?’ asked Henry.

‘I’m not allowed alcohol.’

‘Oh. Right.’

‘One drop could kill me. My liver’s shot to buggery.’

‘Oh dear. Well, we’ll none of us have any alcohol, then,’ said Henry.

Seven people valiantly attempted, with varying degrees of success, to hide their horror at this statement. Henry realised, in that moment, that in more moderate degrees they were as addicted to alcohol as Ben had been. And to never be able to drink a drop of it again!

‘I don’t mind you all drinking,’ said Ben. ‘It’s not difficult for me any more, because I know it will kill me. I don’t know who you all are but you seem very nice and I’d like you all to enjoy a drink.’

‘No,’ said Henry. ‘I don’t think it would be appropriate tonight. Besides, we do a lovely elderflower cordial. Now, who are we all? Well, you’ve met your mum and Gunter.’

‘Mr and Mrs Mouthful.’

‘Yes. Ha! Absolutely.’ No. Don’t be too eager to please. It’s patronising. ‘And you’ve met Camilla.’

‘I can’t believe she’s my sister. Wow! I mean, she’s beautiful. Really beautiful.’

‘Thanks, Ben.’ Camilla blew her nose hastily.

‘I’m … er … I’m Henry,’ said Henry. ‘I … I was married to your mother.’

‘You’re my father!’

‘No.’

‘Well where is my father?’

‘He’s not here.’

Henry nodded to Camilla meaningfully, and she slipped out to phone Nigel.

‘She’s my sister!’ repeated Ben. ‘I can’t get over it. She’s … I’ve forgotten so much. It’s …’

He began to cry. He blew his nose with a very grubby handkerchief.

‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t worry.’

Henry put his arm round Ben, very diffidently, but he didn’t seem to mind. He squeezed Ben affectionately, then withdrew the hand.

‘Take your time,’ he said.

They were all looking at Ben and half smiling encouragingly. It suddenly struck Henry how odd this was. In their past lives, none of them had got on with him.

But was this Ben? It was Ben’s body, much changed, but … what was the essence of a person? Did Ben have any Benishness left? If not, was he Ben in any sense but name?

The elderflower cordial arrived. They all raised their glasses to Ben and said, ‘Cheers’. Bemused, he raised his glass and said, ‘Cheers’ too.

‘Have I met her?’ he said, pointing at Kate.

‘Yes,’ said Kate, blushing slightly.

‘I thought so.’ He was pleased with himself.

‘I’m your half-sister.’

‘What?’

‘Your dad and your mum had two children. You and Camilla. Things didn’t work out, the way they sometimes don’t …’ There has to be a play in this scenario. No. Get away, greedy thought. ‘… and … er … your dad and your mum parted and … er … your mum married Henry … and Henry already had two children of his own by Hilary … well, I mean, Hilary had two children by Henry, and they were me and Jack there …’

‘Hi, Ben.’

‘Hi, Jack. Hey, that’s funny, isn’t it? Hi-jack!’

They all laughed a little too much.

‘… and things didn’t work out,’ continued Kate, as if the little joke had never happened, ‘the way they sometimes don’t. Henry and Hilary parted, and Henry married your mum, and things didn’t work out …’

‘… the way they sometimes don’t?’

‘Exactly. The way they always haven’t, I suppose, and that’s the family history.’

‘Right. And who are you?’ Ben asked Hilary.

‘I’m Henry’s wife. I’m Hilary.’

‘I thought you parted.’

‘We did, but we’ve married again. This must be difficult for you. It isn’t that easy for us.’

‘Would it help …?’ asked Guiseppe. ‘I’m Guiseppe, by the way. I’m Camilla’s husband. Would it help if I wrote out a family tree?’

‘More like a diseased elm,’ said Henry. ‘Great idea, though, Guiseppe.’

As Guiseppe began to draw his diagram, Camilla slipped back in.

‘No reply,’ she said.

‘Rather a long “no reply”,’ said Henry.

Camilla gave him a stern look, and signalled to him to follow her to the bar.

‘What’s up?’ asked Ben, his suspicions easily aroused, as Henry stood.

‘Nothing,’ said Henry hastily. ‘Just ordering more drinks.’

He hurried to the bar, where Camilla unburdened herself
rapidly,
in a low voice but not caring if Greg heard or not. She looked shocked and her voice almost broke once or twice. Henry knew that she was on the verge of tears.

‘Henry, darling, it was dreadful. One of the most dreadful moments of my whole life. I told him that we’d found Ben alive and well, and there was a silence. It didn’t last long, just a second or two, but it was the loudest silence I’ve ever heard. My dad was horrified at the fact that his son was alive and he would have to deal with him. It was a moment of shattering truth. I had goose-pimples all over. He hid it, of course, with a volley of “terrific”s and “Thank God”s, but I knew, and I should think that even he is sensitive enough to know that I knew.’

Henry touched her arm sympathetically, ordered another round of soft drinks, and returned to their table with the shocked Camilla.

Guiseppe handed Ben the family tree, and he kept it in front of him for the rest of the evening. He checked on it several times.

‘We’d better order some food,’ said Henry. ‘Everybody must be starving. Now, there are four main dishes of the day. Carbonnade of beef, hazelnut rissoles, spicy marlin and … er … duck Benedict.’

‘Duck Benedict!’ exclaimed Ben.

‘Yes. Yes. Yes, we … well, I … I … er … well, we’ve been hunting for you … because … because we’d lost you and because … because we didn’t want to have lost you.’

‘You’ve all been out hunting for me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Bloody hell.’

‘Yes. And … er … I thought … I thought it would be
rather
nice to create a dish for you … specially … in case we found you … which we have.’

‘I don’t call myself Benedict any more.’

‘I know, but we didn’t know that. Maybe … Michelle!’

The burly, much-muscled manageress bore down on them like an avalanche.

‘Michelle, could you do me a favour? Could you rub “edict” off the blackboard?’

‘Sorry, I’m not reading you,’ said Michelle.

‘Could you rub “edict” off Benedict. That is my edict.’

‘What?’

‘It was a play on words. Probably a mistake at this moment, but I was attempting to lighten a … well, not a heavy atmosphere, exactly. A serious moment. An attempt to leaven a serious moment with humour. A flop.’

‘Do shut up, Dad,’ said Jack, and Ben checked the family tree to see if Henry was
his
dad and seemed reassured by what he saw.

‘Benedict calls himself Ben now, Michelle,’ explained Hilary, ‘so could you change his name on the board from Benedict to Ben?’

‘Duck Ben? It doesn’t have a ring to it,’ protested Michelle.

‘I don’t care if it has a sodding ring to it. Just do it,’ snapped Henry. ‘Please,’ he added, but too late.

Michelle gave him a look. I’m Manageress, not a skivvy, said her look, and I’m built like a brick shithouse, and you aren’t, so just watch it.

She strode across the Café like a footballer wrongly sent off, and returned a moment later, still bristling, to change duck Benedict to duck Ben on the board.

‘So what are you going to have, Ben?’ asked Henry. ‘Duck Ben?’

‘What is it?’

‘It’s … it’s roulade of duck stuffed with … with lobster in …’

It was difficult to continue in the face of Ben’s blatant disbelief.

‘… in champagne and caviar sauce with … er … pan-fried
foie gras
.’

‘Bloody hell. I couldn’t eat that poncy muck,’ said Ben.

‘No … well … good … but, you see, it’s the sort of thing you used to like.’

‘Is it? Oh my God. Perhaps it’s just as well I don’t remember anything, eh?’

Henry smiled, but didn’t speak.

‘No, look, sorry, it was nice of you to create that for me,’ said Ben, ‘but, thank you, I won’t have it. I’ll have the beef thing.’