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Bella

Joseph was singing haphazardly outside the back door. She'd taped it against draughts and so preferred not to open it. She shouted to him to go round to the front but he was too drunk to cohere her. She sat surrounded by apple peelings. She would make a giant crumble; she would make his ear-ring turn to amalgam with one quicksilvery drop of her saliva. She would make his knees buckle, his heart stampede, his stomach swoon. But there was no-one about except Joseph (tiny and ancient) and Jason (tiny and twelve). She'd go and fetch the old boy in a minute, not because she liked his company - his memory ended before hers began, his hands trembled even when they weren't afraid - but because she didn't want him to suffer out in the cold; and besides, he wasn't much of a bother: it had been a month or so since his wanderings last brought him round this way. Jason came into the kitchen, sporting a giant joint of acrid crackling grass. She refused it as adamantly as ever and shooed him away from the biscuit-tin. He tore open the back door to go out. Joseph fell in, his head landing in the cat food, his consciousness extinguished. She dragged him through to the bathroom and aroused him by sousing him. When his eyes returned she saw in them a sadness beyond reproach, beyond measure. Without going into the theory she decided that all he'd ever lacked and needed was love. She took off his clothes, lifted his gethsemane-gaunt body into the bath and washed him in an excess of mandarin shampoo.

Enveloped in a dressing-gown and a pair of thick socks, he followed her back into the kitchen. She put the crumble in the oven, opened a bottle of her own elder flower wine, filled two beakers. He drained his like tap water. She replenished it immediately. She wanted him drunk again, but drunk as a lord this time, not drunk as a dosser. She wanted him heavy with drink, swollen with drink, blind with drink, raging with drink. But he just became duller and duller, smaller and smaller, his conversation comprising undigested morsels of information from some ether beyond her ken:

"Gary's got stuck in a horse."

"Who's Gary?"

"My Gary."

"I don't know him, do I?"

"You should - he's the postman's wife."

The front doorbell rang at the end of this cul-de-sac. She opened up to find Aaron standing there, more colossal than ever, a scruffy bunch of flowers in his hand.

"Whaddyou want," she snarled.

"I just need to talk."

"Talk to your trollop, then. Don't bother me."

She tried to close the door. He held it ajar with his shoe.

"Please, Bella. That's all over."

She shrugged and returned to the kitchen. She sat down in Joseph's lap, to his amazement and consternation. She must have weighed twice as much. She kissed his mandarin-flavoured head, while eyeing Aaron for signs of jealousy or incredulity. When Joseph's pain became too apparent she stood up and began to lay the table.

Jason appeared with two of his girlfriends.

"Hi, Dad," he said neutrally, as though they hadn't not seen each other for ages.

Bella laid some more table, placed Joseph at the head, helped everyone to crumble.

"So what did you want to talk about?"

"Not now," said Aaron, indicating the company.

Jason wolfed his portion.

"What is it?"

"Apple and pilchard."

"Nice one, Mum."

He began to skin up.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" blustered Aaron.

The two girls giggled.

"Mum lets me."

"I can't stop him. Anyway, it's got nothing to do with you."

"You don't mind, do you, Joe?" she added, nudging him for a response.

"I don't mind and I don't matter."

"Don't be silly. Of course you matter. You matter very much to me."

"He's my son," said Aaron.

"Don't be so sure. He doesn't look like you. He doesn't act like you. How do you know Joe and I weren't lovers thirteen years ago? How do you know he hasn't just come back to me to make me happier than I've ever dreamed of being?"

Aaron made a noise through his nose that suggested extreme scepticism.

Joseph shruggingly accepted the joint from Jason.

"Hey, I like this," he exclaimed, after a few drags. "What is it? Wacky baccy?"

Even Bella had some, for the first time in ages. Only Aaron refused.

Jason and the girls disappeared upstairs.

"When can we talk?" nagged Aaron.

"Later, if you want to wait. Joe and I are just going to bed."

"You what?"

"We like to make love after dinner."

"Oh, yeah, sure... Even when you have guests?"

"I wouldn't call you a guest. I didn't ask you round. I didn't even ask you in."

Aaron shakily poured himself some more elder flower. Having drained the glass, he placed his elbows on the table and his face in his palms. She took Joseph's hand; led him up to her room; drew back the duvet; laid him down; began to caress him - at first out of curiosity to see if he could still be aroused; then, when he was, out of genuine desire. She realised that she could actually go through with it, that any remaining revulsion was in her head and might be dismissed as 'cultural conditioning'. He may have become diminished in space but he was a giant in time. The weight of his years upon her would be far richer, far warmer, far heavier than any mere mass. The length of his past was more important than the length of his legs. And anyway, what difference did a little wizening make?

She committed her back to the mattress. He fell into her like a solution falling into a problem...

"Oh, Bella, Bella," he murmured, after a few minutes of gentle undulation. "You're so beautiful."

She half-opened her eyes to see Aaron towering above them, his face green fury.

"I don't believe this," he muttered.

He yanked Joseph out of her and threw him to the floor. He threatened her with his fist. She let out a deafening, continuous scream.

Jason appeared with his crossbow at the ready, his resolve momentarily flabbergasted by the identity of his mother's assailant.

"Leave her alone," he ordered, his voice a mix of treble and tenor.

Aaron hardly turned.

"Get out of here, boy. Go back to your room."

"No. You get out."

"I'm telling you."

Aaron advanced upon Jason.

"Give me that."

Jason lowered the crossbow and fired.

The bolt went through the upper, through the foot, through the sole and into the floorboard.

"Oh, what a shot!" yelled Jason, while quickly reloading.

Aaron stared down incredulously.

"You little bastard. Look what you've done."

He bent to pull the bolt out, but the trauma of exit was so much greater than the trauma of entry that he fainted. The whole house shook with his fall.

Jason dashed off, returned with some thin rope, tied Aaron's ankles and wrists together. Meanwhile, Bella helped Joseph up. He seemed undamaged. They sat side by side on the edge of the bed, staring down with stupefaction at Aaron's gigantic proneness.

"Oh, God... Oh, God," whimpered Jason, when he'd finished his knots.

"Come here, darling."

He sat down on her other side. She put an arm round each and pulled them in to her bosom. She murmured soothing sweet nothings. They all rocked slightly back and forth.

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