“What’s going on?” asked Georgie, looking around as if he’d just woken up.
“Shh!” said Alfie. “Don’t make a sound.”
“Sergeant Clayton on the prowl, is he?”
“Dad! Shh!” insisted Alfie, watching the nurses as they passed.
“I was only asking.”
“Dad!” Alfie felt himself breaking out into a sweat. All it would take was for one of the nurses to turn her head and she would surely see them hiding in the greenery. He held his breath and only exhaled again after they had passed by. “Right,” he said. “Come on, we need to get out of here as fast as we can.”
He broke into a run, and Georgie watched in confusion for a moment before running after him. When they were clear of the hospital gates, they stopped and caught their breath. “The train station’s down here,” said Alfie. “Just follow me.”
“Alfie,” said Georgie as they sat down on the grass a few minutes later, waiting for the train to arrive. “You did remember my pills, didn’t you?”
“I told you,” said Alfie. “There’s plenty of pills at home. You can have some of those. But you won’t need them, I promise. Once you’re back home in Damley Road, you’ll be right as rain.”
“All right, Alfie,” said Georgie, nodding his head, satisfied.
“All right, Dad,” said Alfie.
CHAPTER 12
I WANT TO GO HOME
Georgie remained very quiet on the train back to London. He sat in the corner of the carriage, staring out at the passing scenery, his arms wrapped around his chest as if he were trying to stop himself from rocking back and forth. Whenever the train stopped at a station—or near a station—to let passengers on or off, he closed his eyes. When the conductor blew his whistle, and at one particularly busy stop, when the doors were being slammed all the way down the train, Alfie was sure he could hear a low groan emerging from his mouth. At these moments he tried to talk to him, but his dad would only reply with single-word answers: yes, no, Clayton, tomorrow, pills, sometimes, help.
At Manningtree a young Tommy climbed aboard and sat in the carriage with them, lighting up a cigarette and turning from one to the other with an arrogant, cheeky smile on his face. His uniform was clean and freshly pressed; it appeared as if he was wearing it for the first time. Georgie looked him up and down for a moment, a distressed expression on his face, but when the soldier caught his eye he turned away.
“What you staring at?” he asked. “Never seen a soldier before?”
Georgie said nothing, and Alfie tried to concentrate on Robinson Crusoe so he wouldn’t think of talking to him.
“Cat got your tongue? I said, Never seen a soldier before?”
“Seen a few,” muttered Georgie, staring out of the window.
“What’s that you’re reading?” asked the soldier, flipping the book out of Alfie’s hands in a deft move and spinning it around to read the cover. “Robinson Crusoe. My old dad has a copy of this at home. Looks boring.”
“It’s the best book ever written,” said Alfie.
“Ha,” said the soldier, shaking his head. “As if you would know. Who’s the barrel of laughs in the window seat?” he asked, nodding in Georgie’s direction.
“My dad,” said Alfie.
“Got a screw loose, has he? Hey, you! You got a screw loose, do you?”
Georgie turned around and stared at him for a moment, cocking his head to the side as if he were trying to understand exactly what was going on before turning to look out of the window again.
“Here, what do you think?” continued the young Tommy, pointing at his uniform. “Looks pretty smart, doesn’t it? It’s my first day. On my way to London to meet my new pals, then on to Aldershot to start training. I’ve been waiting for this day for four years. They said it would be over by Christmas, didn’t they? Thank Christ they were wrong about that. Here, why aren’t you fighting, mate?” he asked, shouting over at Georgie, who immediately stood up and walked out of the carriage, shutting the door behind him furiously. “Feather man, is he?” he asked, laughing, and Alfie felt his hands twist into fists, wishing he could shut this fool up. “They’re everywhere, they are. Takes a real man to win a war. I’ll sort out Fritz, never you mind about that. Me and my new pals.”
Alfie stood up and left the carriage without a word, making his way through the train, and finally discovered his father sitting alone, his head buried in his hands.
“Dad?” he said, sitting down next to him. He wanted desperately to put his arm around him but he didn’t know how; it felt too awkward. “Dad, are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Alfie,” replied Georgie in a low voice. “I’m just tired, that’s all. You don’t have any of those pills on you, do you?”
“No, sorry.”
“All right then.”
They didn’t say anything else all the way back to King’s Cross, and when they arrived, Georgie seemed unwilling to get off the train, the sound of the screeching engines and the whistles of the conductors making him tremble visibly. When Alfie finally coaxed him out onto the platform, he seemed even less happy to be led back in the direction of Damley Road. When they reached the top of the street, Alfie peeped round the corner first, hoping that no one would be in sight, but there was Mrs. Scutworth from number fifteen and Mrs. Candlemas from number thirteen standing side by side, washing their windows.
“We’ll just wait until they’re finished,” said Alfie, and Georgie nodded.
They stood and waited, and the minutes ticked by. Every time Alfie looked at his dad, he wanted to say something to him, but Georgie’s forehead was wrinkled and he seemed to be crouched over a little, his fists clenched, his body rocking back and forth, and Alfie couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make things worse.
“Come on, Dad,” he said finally, when the two women had gone back inside their houses, and he found himself taking his father by the hand and leading him down the street to his front door, just as Georgie had done with him when he was a little boy. He put his key in the lock, twisted it quickly, and let them both inside.
Georgie looked around; he seemed a little unsteady on his feet. Nothing much had changed in the four years since he’d last been here, but perhaps the memory of number twelve was too much for him, for the moment he stepped inside the front parlor he fell into the broken armchair in front of the fireplace and buried his face in his hands.
“When they saw it was us, they were different, weren’t they?” he mumbled to himself. “I can’t be on stretcher-bearer duty again—three nights in a row is too much for any man, it’s torture … Stay where you are and then leave—that’s what he told me. Makes no sense, does it? Where’s Unsworth? Where’s he got himself now?”
“Dad!” said Alfie, kneeling down beside him. “Dad, what’s wrong? I don’t understand what you mean.”
Georgie looked up and shook his head, and for a moment he seemed more like his old self. “What’s that, son?” he asked in a cheerful voice. “Oh, don’t mind me, I was away with the fairies, that’s all. Ask your mum to make us a nice cup of tea, there’s a good lad. I need an early night if I’m to be up in the morning.”