The Ghost watched the obliviousness of his baby self.
‘This is theDuke of Gloucester! The greatest train there ever was! A three-cylinder express passenger engine! The first in all the world!’
The baby gave a little cry and clenched his tiny hands, his face red. It was probably a bit of colic, but it passed.
‘No!’ said Dougie. ‘It’s all right, I promise you.’
All his life Wilbur had thought the train was something his mother had saved for, because, of course, he’d never had a recollection of this day or of what his brother proceeded to confess.
‘I got it from Redgates! It’s a giant toy shop. I saw it in’t window ’cause it’s on the way to school. And I know stealing is wrong but it’s also wrong that a little bairn didn’t get a toy like all the other bairns did just ’cause Adolf shot their dad out the clouds. I told Mam that a kid at school was moving house and clearing out his toys and I dunno if she believed us but she let me keep it.’
The Ghost stared down at his young six-month-old face looking up with wide-eyed gurgling love at Dougie and the train.
‘You’re smiling!’ Dougie said, with a tenderness that surprised the Ghost. ‘Wilbur, that’s a smile on yer face!
The moment ended with a hard knocking against the door and Dougie placing the train on the floor and the baby back in the cot.
‘Back in a minute, Wilbur! I’ll see who it is!’
And who it was happened to be the man Dougie hated more than any other in the world.
Mr Parkin
The man at the door was tall and slim and was wearing a smart suit and an expression of stern indifference.
The Ghost instantly recognised him.
Mr Parkin, the landlord.
Back in those days, he had owned all the houses on Glossop Road, and many beyond. And since the war he had been raising rents to account for the houses that had been destroyed by bombs. Which seemed to Wilbur’s mother doubly unfair. Because not only had he killed her husband – taking the main income with him – but now, from beyond the grave, Hitler was raising her rent too.
And just then Wilbur’s baby self began to cry again from across the room, and cry so hard that it took the Ghost a moment or two to hear a shrill but distant whistle, and the mechanical chug of a train.
Wilbur heard the sound of the train and saw it arrive on the street behind an oblivious Mr Parkin. Plumes of steam headed to the sky. As invisible to the living as it was vivid to Wilbur. But he stayed watching the scene.
‘Is your mammy there?’ Mr Parkin asked. There was a soft creep to his voice, or at least that is how the Ghost had always thought of it. Like a panther treading through undergrowth.
‘No. She’s working.’
Dougie’s face was defiant. The Ghost thought about how it must have been for him, feeling he had to be a protector while still a young lad.
‘Well, it’s Friday. Did she leave the money for me?’
Dougie shrugged. ‘Don’t think so.’
Mr Parkin raised his eyebrows. ‘You don’t think so … It’s very important, little Douglas, for people to keep their promises … And I am afraid your mother is very bad at that. You must not follow in her footsteps. God said that when a man takes a vow he must not break his word. That is there in the Holy Bible.’
‘I don’t like the Bible much,’ Dougie said with a familiar fearlessness. ‘Apart from the story of the Ark. I like that Noah saved the animals.’
‘I like the story of the Ark too,’ smiled Mr Parkin, for a moment looking almost kindly. The Ghost certainly had never remembered him as kindly. He had always been just a strict and unscrupulous, evil landlord, but you can’t live for over eight decades without realising people were always complicated. Or that there was something internal that pulled against the external perception. ‘I like that Noah rose to the challenge and got the Ark done on time. And speaking of being on time, tell your mother that I am a generous man, but my generosity runs out. And I will return tomorrow morning … I amnota charity, tell her.’
And with that, he turned on his heels and walked two mere steps to the house next door, where he knocked again, after another rent payment.
Dougie shut the door, and Wilbur saw the worry on his brother’s face – nine-tenths fury, one-tenth fear – and he wanted to soothe him.
‘It’s all right, Dougie.’
It sounded hollow, even to a ghost.
