A loud knocking began.
Ginger returned, pushing the pram ahead of him. He sent it free-wheeling toward the fridge. ‘I’m warning you,’ he repeated. ‘Hold hands.’
Tottering backwards, the unwieldly circle oozed into the hall. The passage was so narrow they were pressed to each other like lovers. Glass crunched underfoot.
‘You’ve forgotten your piggy bank, you know,’ said Alma, face to face with Widnes.
The exodus was halted while the suitcase was fetched from the kitchen. Cursing, Ginger thrust himself into the centre of the scrum and, leaning across Harry’s shoulder, tugged at the front door.
The whole world blazed with light. Concentrating on keeping the ring intact they flowed raggedly down the steps. They passed the hedge and jiggled out on to the pavement. One huge intake of breath, like a vast sigh, rose from the crowd on the corner.
Startled, the outer circle faltered, and seeing those massed figures not a hundred yards away felt a surge of pity for themselves. How kind they are, thought Binny, blinded by tears. They care about us.
Reaching the car, the group disintegrated. Widnes and Ginger thrust the three women into the interior of the Cortina and scrambled after them. Ginger, hampered by the bulky suitcase, crawled over the front seat and sat at the wheel. Mindful of their instructions, Edward and Simpson, with Harry in the middle, skipped sideways up the path again in a desperate barn-dance to the door.
Several minutes elapsed before the men re-appeared. Harry carried Geoff on his back – one leg in a torn stocking dangled above the gutter. Widnes opened the far door of the car and shoved Muriel and Alma into the road. The women stood undecided.
I knew it would be me, thought Binny. I hope Alison remembers to do her teeth. She watched with interest, bent over her knees, as Harry bundled the wounded Geoff into the passenger seat. Simpson’s bandage, she noticed, had come undone and hung in a frayed noose about his neck. Edward was bending down and staring at her with his mouth open. The car began to move. She could see Edward’s stomach as he ran beside the window – he was holding the handle of the door, preventing it from closing. There’s no room, she thought. He’s too fat.
Then he was inside the car, impossibly jammed between the seats. Widnes swore and hit him in the face with his fist.
Eyes full of reproach, Edward leaned towards Binny and stretched out his arm.
‘I’ll never leave you,’ he cried.
The car gathered speed and swung round the corner by the garage. The four occupants of the back seat lurched sideways. The door opened.
Liar, thought Binny, as Edward fell away from the car.
A woman at a window screamed, like the blast of whistle.