Typhoon - Chapter 2 (1)

Eric’s foot hit the platform, his first step on Scottish soil in six years. Except it wasn’t soil, it was concrete. He was still in the city and would need to take another train from Glasgow central out to Kilben before he could go out into the garden. He was due to meet his mother, his father and his grandparents at home. Josie might be there, she might not. She’d called him the night before he came up from London to warn him that her class schedule was getting kind of erratic. He figured that might suit her, not having the same timetable every day.

His connecting train did not take long to arrive, but he had time to pick up a newspaper and thumb through it. All good, all celebratory. Nothing about an out of control dragon wreaking havoc in a Lanarkshire mining town. He read a few more in depth stories about the proceedings at Nuremburg. Everything seemed to be in order. The justice of the world was righting itself again, and Eric was happy.

Then he re-read the latest letter from Stephanie, who planned to stop by the house as soon as she got off work. She was a secretary at the council buildings and sometimes worked late when the opportunity arose. She always said she was saving up for a house, and Eric got the feeling she intended it for both of them one day. This made him happy too.

But nothing made him happier than the moment he finally stepped onto the brick paving of the Kilben train station. He slung his comically oversized rucksack over his back, playing up his stumbling around for the assembled elderly citizens watching him fondly. One of them signalled to the conductor to make sure enough time was allowed for their local hero to disembark. He gave them all a happy wave as the train rumbled off, grinning from ear to ear.

Life was still good as he wandered home, floating around bends of semi-detached houses and striding along endless terraced streets. Finally, he reached the street that branched off to the right from the roundabout he’d walked home to after school every day for thirteen years. The street came to a dead end at a high wall with a little moss covering it, behind which was the playground of the primary school. Josie had always suggested they should climb over it rather than looping around the streets to get home, but by the time she’d been tall enough to try they’d both been at high school.

Eric had kept his key with him every day of the war that he could, but it felt like slipping in unannounced wouldn’t be enough of a moment. This was his first time home in six years. He knocked on the door.

“I’ll get it!” bellowed his father. For some reason he’d always imagined the first voice he heard to be his mother’s. He’d heard her voice much more during their childhood, what with his father working as a mine foreman at the Comrie Colliery up in Fife.

A moment later the door flew open and Eric was looking down on the face of his father. He had bright red cheeks and a slight paunch trying to slip out of the crisp white shirt tucked into his trousers. His hair was receding in a widow’s peak that was so sharp it was frankly sublime in the manner of epic waterfalls.

“Ah, my boy! My big, tall, wonderful boy!” Eric’s father, Bill, shouted, right in his face.

The feeling of reluctant admiration of his father’s earnestness slipped right back into Eric’s consciousness, ambushing him with its familiarity. He let his bag fall to the ground behind him and collapsed forward into his father’s arms.

“I’m home,” he murmured.

“You are at that,” Bill croaked. He pulled away after a moment and slipped past Eric to grab his bag. “Come on, let’s go see your mum and your grandparents.”

When Eric caught sight of Bill again his eyes had gone watery and a little red. Eric wondered if he’d been holding back tears all morning. Maybe he had; it was only at that moment Eric realised he had too. He followed Bill into the living room, and was immediately beset by the loving arms of his mother, closely followed by his maternal grandparents Charles and Wilma. The experience left him hovering awkwardly, half bent over, in the living room doorway with Bill trying to get past behind him.

Bill patted him on the back and together with Helen led him towards the nearest couch. It was an old red sofa, but it wasn’t yet coming apart, though the colour was slightly dull. There was the occasional stain in an awkward fold on the arm, but for the most part Helen was a mastermind with cleaning products. For a moment he just couldn’t believe how little dirt there was. As long as everything stayed under control in the world, he’d never have to get his shoes dirty again.

Helen sat beside him, Bill took his place in an armchair at a right angle to them, then Charles and Wilma sat on the sofa opposite Eric and Helen. Nobody spoke for a while, everyone just sitting, breathing, regaining their composure.

“So,” Helen said eventually, “How do you feel?”

“Happy,” Eric said.

***

Josie’s class had actually only run a little bit late so she wouldn’t arrive too long after Eric. Still, she’d let him languish in suspense for a bit. He would appreciate the surprise. She pictured seeing his dopey round face with its mop of brown hair and started grinning in the middle of a crowded train, but she didn’t care.

She got her notes out to pass the time on the train, but she could barely concentrate. Biology did interest her, really, as did politics, but how was she meant to concentrate on fish kidneys when she had a brother waiting for her when she got back? She would take him down the garden, he’d be wondering what the hell she was doing. She’d take him into their play shed from when they were kids and he’d think she was doing some elaborate performance art piece in memory of their childhood. Then his eyes would alight upon the big lump under the blanket, who would promptly stick his nose out from under it, see who it was…

She actually didn’t know what Dragon would do when he caught sight of Eric. He’d been so mopey for the first six months after Eric had left. In fact, he never seemed fully awake these days. Maybe lack of Eric was his problem. They had all three been joined by orange dragon larva energy once. Josie certainly missed Eric.

By the time the train pulled into Kilben, she’d settled down a little, and was able to reflect slightly more on her class. It hadn’t been biology or politics, even though that was her joint honours degree. It hadn’t even technically been a university class, just one run by a university lecturer called Doctor MacAlpine. The class wasn't the sort of thing they put on university curricula.

The walk home was quick, even quicker than usual with the extra pace the excitement was injecting into her legs. When she reached their house, she hopped over the low row of carved stones with wavy top edges that worked as a border for the front garden, leapt straight onto the tiles, then leaned forward and rapped her knuckles against the living room window. The light wasn't on inside, and the sun was behind her back, so she didn't notice movement until Wilma was standing right in front of her, shaking her head but smiling.

"Josie, what are you doing?" Helen called from atop the steps to the front door.

Josie darted over and followed her inside. Without answering, she sped through to the living room, spotted Eric - whose brown hair had a little more gel in it than it used to - and, noticing an empty space on the couch next to him, tackled him with all her might.

"Josie!" he cried, but he could barely get the two syllables out for laughter. A moment later he added, "Okay, ah, actually on windpipe now."

Josie hauled herself out of her hug into a sitting position, one elbow hooked around the arm of the sofa.

Eric coughed and sat back. "Oof. Exciting as ever, Josie."

"It's so good to see you!" Josie shouted, not caring that she was inside.

"You too," Eric said, glancing across the room at their grandparents. Charles had a hand to his ear, clearly perturbed by her volume, as always.

She was about to apologise when Wilma said, "I'm afraid we better be going now. We're so glad we got to see you both."

Wilma smiled at both of them, as did Charles, who made an elaborate pantomime of his deafness as she said goodbye to them both. Sometimes the loudness she'd inherited from her father did bother them, but not on a day like this. As the grandparents were led to the front door and the family got ready to wave goodbye as their car drove off, Josie excused herself to go to the bathroom.

The downstairs bathroom was slightly smaller than upstairs, with a much bluer theme of decoration. There was a new little sucker than kept the plug adhered to the side of the sink, rather than having to be sat on the ledge, where it could easily slip off. Josie played with it for a moment, then relieved herself and went to rejoin her family.