muttering muted feeble goodbyes. Out on the street Hector asked where Leanna, Dedjan and Ari were going. There was talk of more drinking, a bar in High Street, maybe some dancing. He felt separated from them totally and finitely: cleaved from their childless lives.
Back in the house, he could see that Harry was close to tears himself; to see his cousin so wretched was the worst thing. Fury rose within him. He was glad that Gary and Rosie had left. He couldn’t bear to see them, to enact the forced pretences of friendship and compassion. Rocco was standing by his father, close, their bodies touching. Sandi kissed Hector and Aisha goodbye, but it was his parents who walked the family to the car. Hector had gripped tight to his cousin’s hand but he was unsure what Aisha expected of him, where her sympathies lay. He knew that as his mother and father walked Harry to the car they would be soothing him in Greek, that their anger would be directed against the bloody Australians. Hector agreed with them, but he had no idea what Aisha was thinking. He dreaded the argument ahead.
In the backyard, Connie was calling up to Richie.
The boy made no move. Hector lit a cigarette and offered one to Tasha.
She put an arm around him. ‘I’m really sorry.’
‘For what?’
‘That it ended so badly.’
Hector shrugged.
Richie was looking behind, down into the alley, across the roof-tops. He yelled down to Connie. ‘I think I can see your house from here.’
‘Come down, Richie.’ Tasha ordered patiently.
The boy jumped. Hector closed his eyes; he half-expected to hear the crack of a bone but Richie landed on his feet, stumbled and righted himself. He had a big grin on his face. He ran up to the verandah and stopped abruptly before Hector. He grasped the man’s hand and shook it vigorously.
‘That was great. The food was awesome.’ Then, just as abruptly, he blushed and stepped back.
Hector couldn’t think of a word to say in reply but fortunately Aisha emerged from the doorway. ‘Thank you, Richie. But I think the party’s over.’
‘We’ll help you clean up.’
‘No, Tasha, it’s fine. We’ll do it.’
Connie shook his hand limply, without looking at him. But she threw her arms around Aisha and held onto her tight. Hector stared out into the darkness. It was only when he heard Tasha’s car start up that he let out his breath. He pulled Aisha towards him. She said nothing but leaned into him, his arm tight around her waist. Her hair smelt of barbecue smoke and lemon juice. He was glad they could stand together in silence, a peace broken when he went to butt out his cigarette.
She pulled away from him. ‘I’ll put the kids to bed.’
‘It’s still early.’
‘I want them in bed.’
‘It’s Saturday night.’
‘Please, Hector, help me on this one.’
He hesitated, wanting to put off the inevitable conversation, wanting to remain in the blissful, uncomplicated silence. ‘So, what are you thinking?’
‘I’m furious.’
‘With who?
Her eyes flashed angrily at him. ‘With your cousin, of course.’
‘I’m not.’
‘If that had been your child you would have never stood for it.’
But it hadn’t been their child and it would never have been their child. Not because of him, he knew that, not at all because of him, but because of her. She was a terrific mother. Aisha was watching him warily, he knew she was preparing her arguments. He was suddenly glad for the drugs. He didn’t want to fight—he couldn’t summon either annoyance or self-righteousness. She was already there, he could tell, she was spoiling for a fight. She wanted to insult Harry, to excoriate him because, in part, Harry was his family. He had not even noticed Ravi leaving and it dawned on him, there and then—how could he have been so stupid?—that in part the day’s gathering had been meant to celebrate her brother’s visit.
Aisha’s eyes were alive and shining, she was clenching her right fist. All he could think
Back in the house, he could see that Harry was close to tears himself; to see his cousin so wretched was the worst thing. Fury rose within him. He was glad that Gary and Rosie had left. He couldn’t bear to see them, to enact the forced pretences of friendship and compassion. Rocco was standing by his father, close, their bodies touching. Sandi kissed Hector and Aisha goodbye, but it was his parents who walked the family to the car. Hector had gripped tight to his cousin’s hand but he was unsure what Aisha expected of him, where her sympathies lay. He knew that as his mother and father walked Harry to the car they would be soothing him in Greek, that their anger would be directed against the bloody Australians. Hector agreed with them, but he had no idea what Aisha was thinking. He dreaded the argument ahead.
In the backyard, Connie was calling up to Richie.
The boy made no move. Hector lit a cigarette and offered one to Tasha.
She put an arm around him. ‘I’m really sorry.’
‘For what?’
‘That it ended so badly.’
Hector shrugged.
Richie was looking behind, down into the alley, across the roof-tops. He yelled down to Connie. ‘I think I can see your house from here.’
‘Come down, Richie.’ Tasha ordered patiently.
The boy jumped. Hector closed his eyes; he half-expected to hear the crack of a bone but Richie landed on his feet, stumbled and righted himself. He had a big grin on his face. He ran up to the verandah and stopped abruptly before Hector. He grasped the man’s hand and shook it vigorously.
‘That was great. The food was awesome.’ Then, just as abruptly, he blushed and stepped back.
Hector couldn’t think of a word to say in reply but fortunately Aisha emerged from the doorway. ‘Thank you, Richie. But I think the party’s over.’
‘We’ll help you clean up.’
‘No, Tasha, it’s fine. We’ll do it.’
Connie shook his hand limply, without looking at him. But she threw her arms around Aisha and held onto her tight. Hector stared out into the darkness. It was only when he heard Tasha’s car start up that he let out his breath. He pulled Aisha towards him. She said nothing but leaned into him, his arm tight around her waist. Her hair smelt of barbecue smoke and lemon juice. He was glad they could stand together in silence, a peace broken when he went to butt out his cigarette.
She pulled away from him. ‘I’ll put the kids to bed.’
‘It’s still early.’
‘I want them in bed.’
‘It’s Saturday night.’
‘Please, Hector, help me on this one.’
He hesitated, wanting to put off the inevitable conversation, wanting to remain in the blissful, uncomplicated silence. ‘So, what are you thinking?’
‘I’m furious.’
‘With who?
Her eyes flashed angrily at him. ‘With your cousin, of course.’
‘I’m not.’
‘If that had been your child you would have never stood for it.’
But it hadn’t been their child and it would never have been their child. Not because of him, he knew that, not at all because of him, but because of her. She was a terrific mother. Aisha was watching him warily, he knew she was preparing her arguments. He was suddenly glad for the drugs. He didn’t want to fight—he couldn’t summon either annoyance or self-righteousness. She was already there, he could tell, she was spoiling for a fight. She wanted to insult Harry, to excoriate him because, in part, Harry was his family. He had not even noticed Ravi leaving and it dawned on him, there and then—how could he have been so stupid?—that in part the day’s gathering had been meant to celebrate her brother’s visit.
Aisha’s eyes were alive and shining, she was clenching her right fist. All he could think
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