Last Orders Read Free

the window. Vie keeps hold of the box, like someone might pinch it. We raise ourselves up on our toes, heads dose together, so we can see above the frosted half of the window. I can't quite, but I don't say.
    'Jesus Christ,' Lenny says.
    'It's a Merc,' Vie says.
    'Trust Big Boy,' Lenny says.
    I push down on the sill to give myself a second's extra lift. It's a royal blue Merc, cream seats, gleaming in the April sunshine.
    'Jesus,' I say. A Merc.'
    Lenny says, it's like a joke he's been saving up for fifty years, 'Rommel would be pleased.'

Ray
    Amy eyes me as I look up from reading the letter.
    She says, 'I suppose he thought he'd get there in the end, one way or the other.'
    I say, 'When did he write it?'
    She says, 'A couple of days before he—'
    I look at her and I say, 'He could have just told you. Why'd he have to write a letter?'
    She says, 'I suppose he thought Td think he was joking, I suppose he thought it would make it proper.'
    It's not a long letter, but it could be shorter, because of the way it's wrapped up in language like you see in the small print on the back of forms. It's not Jack's language at all. But I suppose a man can get all wordy, all official, when he knows his number's up.
    But the gist of it's plain. It says he wants his ashes to be chucked off the end of Margate pier.
    It don't even say, 'Dear Amy'. It says, 'To whom it may concern'
    She says, Tve told Vie. He said it don't make any difference. It says in his will he's to be cremated but what gets done with the ashes is a free decision. You can throw them anywhere so long as it's not over someone else's property.'
    'So?'
    'So Vie says: "Amy, if you want to do it, do it. If you want me to do it, I'll do it. I'll see it doesn't add too much on the bill. But one thing's certain" he says, "if you don't do it, Jack won't ever know" '
    We're sitting out in the garden by St Thomas's, opposite Big Ben. She looks out across the river as if she's putting it to herself what she'd do if she had Jack's ashes now and he'd told her she should chuck him in the Thames, to the sound of Big Ben. But we haven't got Jack's ashes. All we've got is Jack's pyjamas, two pairs, and his toothbrush and his razor and his wristwatch and a few other odds and ends, which they give you in a plastic bag when you collect the forms. So we don't have to go there any more now, there aint no reason. No more walking down that squeaky corridor, no more hanging about drinking cups of tea. There'll be someone else in his bed now already, some other bleeder.
    It's a mild grey day and the water's grey, and she keeps looking out over it without speaking, so I say, because I think maybe it's what she wants me to say: 'If you want to do it, Amy, I'll take you.'
    'In the old camper?' she says, turning.
    I say, 'Course.' I think she's going to smile and say yes. I think the day's going to brighten up.
    She says, 'I can't do it, Ray. I mean - thank you. But I don't want to do it anyway.'
    She looks out again at the river and I can't tell whether she thinks it's all a bad joke, on account of how Jack had been finally about to do what it was looking like he'd never do: sell up the shop, hang up his striped apron and look around for some other way to pass the time. On account of how she and Jack had found this nice little bungalow down in Margate. Westgate. It was all set up to go ahead. Then Jack goes down with a nasty touch of stomach cancer.
    It's not for me to say it but I say it: 'A dying man's request, Amy'
    She looks at me, 'Will you do it, Ray?' Her race looks emptied out. 'That way it's done, isn't it? That way his wish gets carried out. He only says, "To whom it may concern", doesn't he?'
    I pause for just a bit. 'Okay, Til do it. Course I'll do it. But what about Vince?'
    'I haven't told Vince. About this, I mean.' She nods at the letter. 'I'll tell him. Maybe you and him—'
    I say, 'Til talk to Vince.'
    I hand back the letter It's Jack's handwriting, but it's Jack's handwriting gone