‘So much for Bobby Ray and his wealth of experience,’ she mumbled.
It was time to go home. Home was a bedsit above a newsagent in Litherland. Amber was saving up to buy a car, so she paid low rent. She hated sharing bathroom and kitchen, so she usually ate and showered at the club, but those facilities were off limit just now.
Her mobile rang as she entered her much-hated home. It was Bobby Ray Carson. ‘Amber?’
‘That’s me.’
‘We open again on Friday.’
She absorbed the news. ‘What about Alex’s wife? Isn’t she going to improve us all?’ She waited. ‘Bobby? You still there?’
‘Let it go, Amber,’ he said quietly. ‘And tell Martina Nelson to do the same.’
She kept her breathing as even as possible. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘The way you and Marty look at Alex. I don’t think he’s noticed, but—’
‘I can’t speak for Martina, but I’m getting engaged soon. Yes, I like Alex, because he’s the first fair boss I’ve ever had, but that’s all. I admire him.’
‘Good. Keep it like that. I’ve had to interview a couple of new security blokes for Cheers. The old ones’ mates grassed. They bought stuff from a couple of London blokes, but all they know is that one was named Max, because when the other one called him that they had a bit of a scuffle.’
‘Bloody hell, Bob. You know we had no steroids at Chillex – they were just vitamins?’
‘Yes, Alex said.’
‘So no alterations for the time being?’
‘I doubt it. Mrs Price did sets for London theatres, so I guess her ideas will be radical and dramatic – not the sort of thing that can be done overnight. Mine’s the Cheers set, just like on the TV, so I don’t expect too many alterations, and yours should be pretty safe. Chillex is what the name says it is, a place to exercise and chill out. I suppose we must wait until she has spoken. Now, there’s a meeting Thursday afternoon for managers and security. Three o’clock. Be there.’
‘See you then, Bobby.’ She switched off the phone.
The Chinese takeaway two doors down had started cooking, so she closed her window. What with that stench, late night revellers, stray cockroaches looking for a number 47 with fried rice, and the odd rat in the back yard, this dump was more than she could bear.
She would have to go for a used car and a decent flat, or she might well be back on the Mars bars . . .
The hospital was on Eaton Road, West Derby, Liverpool. He’d been in the city since last night, but the love of his life no longer lived in that huge house on Merrilocks Road, Blundellsands. Why had he come north? The reasonable answer was that he might do better here than at Great Ormond Street, where the queue for a consultancy would probably fill the empty seats in the House of Lords, thereby making the place look occupied by more than just comatose peers of the realm.
But was that his real reason? He was becoming a stalker. He’d never pursued a woman before, but Kate was . . . different. She was so alive. When Amelia had started to improve, her mother had become more beautiful, talkative, funny. Was she really with that other man?
Whatever, he was here now and here he must remain. The interview had been gruelling, but he’d beaten all other applicants, and Alder Hey Children’s Hospital would look good on his CV, especially if he made consultant in the not too distant future. He had a flat nearby, a map of Liverpool and, on his laptop, details about Alex Price and his clubs.
He would find Kate. He had to, because life without her was dull and grey.
Seven
Tim Dyson hadn’t seen either Alex or Kate for some time. A romantic soul when all was said and done, he was cautiously thrilled to have been the accidental reason why his long-term friend had finally had the rug pulled from beneath very stubborn feet. He knew that Alex Price was head over heels for the first time in his life, that he was engaged to Kate Owen, and that they were living together as man and wife, so that Alex could keep her safe. But when it came to details, Tim was stymied, because he couldn’t be in two places at once.
The long expected problem at the other side of the Atlantic had finally arrived, and Tim needed to go to his beloved Julia in Vermont. Her mother was comatose, on a painkiller forty times stronger than mere morphine, and, as the only child, Julia was sitting with her last remaining relative. She had no sister, no brother, no aunts or uncles, no cousins. Friends and neighbours dropped by from time to time, but Mrs Kavanagh was taking an unconscionable time a-dying. God bless the poor woman, because she had battled her hardest until the crab inside her had won the war.
Tim’s bags were packed, ticket and passport stowed in a bum bag, and his flight would leave at dawn in two days. When it came to Alex, the child he had saved all those years ago, he couldn’t just leave without speaking to him. Alex had not phoned; nor had Kate. So the mountain had to visit Muhammad.
He phoned. ‘Alex?’
‘That’s me. Sorry, Tim, but we’ve been a bit busy.’
‘Yes. I read about the drugs and the closing of your clubs. So sorry.’
‘Not your fault. My so-called security team bought the stuff from a couple of Londoners. A boy died in Cheers, so I shut down until I found out why. I’ll never know who injected him with the heroin, but I sacked the men who bought and sold the stuff. It was the lad’s first time. He was sixteen, Tim.’
‘That’s shitty. Look, I’m off to the States soon and I’d like to come and see you before I leave. Julia’s mother’s definitely on the way out, so I’m needed.’
Alex pondered for a moment. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. Give Julia my regards. Yes, she needs you. As for your proposed visit, we have a big meeting on Thursday and open again on Friday, and—’
‘And I hope to be in Vermont before then. May I come tonight?’
‘Of course. We’ll feed you. I’ll inform Mrs Bee, and she’ll furnish us with something edible.’
It was Tim’s turn to stall.
‘You still there?’ Alex asked.
‘Yup. I wanted to ask you something.’
‘OK.’
After another short pause, Tim continued. ‘Are you ready, Alex?’
‘For what? Am I ready for what?’
‘To get past the river of blood. If you’re preparing for marriage . . . Look, I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. There could be an autopsy – though I seriously doubt that – when the poor old girl finally shuffles off, then the funeral, packing Julia’s personal stuff, finding a realtor to sell the house. Complicated stuff.’
‘I know, Tim. But I’m not ready.’
‘Nightmares?’
‘No. Kate’s guarding and protecting me. But flashbacks still happen when I’m awake and tired. I’ve been worse, and Julia comes first.’
Tim doodled on a pad next to his blotter. ‘You’re sharing a bed every night, then?’
‘Yes.’
‘Sex?’
‘One male, one female.’
Tim laughed, though the sound he made wasn’t happy. ‘I don’t mean gender, you idiot.’
Alex blew a raspberry into the phone. ‘Sorry, Tim. She makes me so glad to be alive. Even little outings with the dogs become adventurous. We want children. We’re having fun; we’re getting there. She’s everything I knew I didn’t want, but I love her. Kate is amazing.’
‘She needs the details, though. If you get seriously depressed, how will she understand? You’ll probably know whether or when you need chemical help, but she should be put in the picture. I’ll be there tonight. With a bit of luck, you may not even remember what you’ve said.’
‘How come? What do you mean?’
Tim cleared his throat. ‘I want to bring a hypnotist with me. I’ll be sitting beside you while you go under, and we’ll record what you say if you don’t want Kate to be in the room. I’ll probably be abroad for several weeks, and I want you to have the ability to inform her fully now you’re engaged. I’ve been with you since that terrible day, and I’m not buggering of
f now to leave you floundering. This way, you’ll have all you need in a recording. I advise you to listen to it with her; you can help each other get through it.’
Alex felt panic closing in like fingers round his throat. ‘I’m not sure I want to be hypnotised. And no, I wouldn’t want Kate in the room during the process.’
Tim tutted. ‘Alex, you’re going to marry the girl. You know her history, so don’t you think she should be allowed the details of yours? She won’t abandon you, I promise. She’s just as daft about you as you are about her. Truth’s important. I won’t be here to help you for a while. Is it OK if I bring the man with me? If you don’t want her to sit through the session, we’ll do the recording. If you decide against it absolutely, I’ll send him away. But you’ll still have to pay him, because I’ve made the booking.’
Alex growled. ‘It’s always the money, isn’t it?’
‘He’s the best,’ Tim snapped. ‘Nothing but the best for you. What happened to you all those years ago left Freddy Krueger at the bus stop in the rain. Come on, Alex, I’ve a lot on my mind.’
‘I know. Please, please tell Julia I’m sorry. Yes, you must get to Vermont and stop thinking about me. I’m in a bit of a panic, but I’ll man up by tonight and I’ll send Kate and Kylie upstairs.’
‘Who the hell’s Kylie?’ Tim asked.
‘She’s an asylum seeker from Bootle. She’s into multicoloured hair, she’s fourteen, pregnant and on the run from a very fierce mother.’
In spite of everything, Tim laughed. ‘How do you manage to pick up so many problems on your way through life?’
‘It’s a gift. Remember the broken shoe? That got me a wife, and Kylie can be bridesmaid if we don’t wait too long. I don’t want her going into labour halfway up the aisle.’ He waited for a few seconds, wishing not to seem flippant. ‘Tim, I wish you and Julia all the best. Phone me when . . . phone me.’
‘I will. And now you’ve agreed to be hypnotised, forget about me and my companion being fed tonight. We can buy chips on our way home.’
‘OK.’
Alex turned off his phone. Hypnotism. What next? A witch doctor from some jungle, herbal remedies, hanging upside down in one of those inversion frames, yoga? Or might he be awarded a padded cell and a straitjacket?
The girls wanted to begin their fashion show. Tweeners, a shop that catered for the young on the cusp between childhood and maturity, had been a great success for Kylie. She had more clothes than she’d ever owned, and she positively twinkled with happiness. Poor kid. Not all mothers were fit for the job, as he knew only too well. The same applied to fathers, too.
Kate and Kylie entered the sitting room with Kylie glowing in the blonde wig, jeans and a new T-shirt. She paraded up and down like Kate Moss wearing something designed by Versace.
He had to stop them. ‘Kylie, you look fantastic, but I need to talk to Kate. Can we finish the fashion show tomorrow? Something important has come up, and I must deal with it right away.’
She scuttled off, leaving Alex with a dart in his chest. ‘Oh, God, that girl is fragile – I’m so sorry.’
Kate smiled at him. ‘She has a strong character underneath the damage. So what’s happening?’
He had to tell her the truth.
‘Out with it, Alex.’
He asked her to speak to Brenda and Brian. ‘Eat in the annexe with them. They can use our food if they haven’t enough.’
Our food? She smiled again, because everything was now ours rather than his. From the first evening, after the shoe disaster, he had been hers.
‘Kate?’
‘What?
‘Are you listening to me?’
‘What did you say?’
He shook his head. ‘Nothing.’
‘That’s OK, then. I’m good at listening to nothing.’
Always, always, the last word. ‘I love you,’ he whispered.
‘Good. That makes me feel less guilty about having relieved you of your emotional virginity.’
‘Kate!’
‘What?’
‘Shut the eff up, will you? Close the mouth and pin back the lugholes. Immediately, if not sooner.’
She made a zipping motion across her lips before curling a hand round each ear.
‘Tim’s coming soon, and he’s bringing someone with him. A hypnotist. The man is going to put me under – ha-bloody-ha, let’s see if he manages – and it’s for you.’
She blinked several times.
‘A river of blood.’ His tone was calm, yet his fists were closed tightly. ‘You need to know all of it. Whatever I say will be taken down and used in evidence against me. The interview will be recorded, and my home is going to be like a bloody police station.’
She crossed the small space between them and placed her hands on his cheeks. ‘Will that really be easier than telling me?’
Alex had no idea, and he said so.
‘Promise me one thing,’ she begged.
‘I’ll try.’
‘We listen to that recording together. I don’t want you to be alone when you play it – and no cheating. I’ve already lived with a cheat.’
‘I promise. If the man succeeds in mesmerizing me, that is.’
‘Just don’t fight it. Relax for once in your life.’
‘Tim did suggest an alternative, though I refused it.’
‘Oh?’
He nodded just once. ‘You could be there while I’m under the influence, but I’d rather do the recording alone and listen to it with you some other time.’ He paused and stared thoughtfully into her eyes. ‘I can begin now, just to let you know the start of it. Katherine, my mother killed my father. I saw the murder; Tim witnessed the aftermath and dragged me out of the house. It’s the pictures in my head that stop me going any further, because I lost my way afterwards.’
She clung to him like an oversized kitten, claws digging through his shirt sleeves, then she broke away, her face revealing her shock and sympathy. ‘I’ll take Kylie next door. I shall bring us both back when it’s all over.’
She left him in a hurry, and he knew she was fighting back tears. So he had to go through with hypnosis. Panic paid another brief visit when he closed his eyes and saw red. It was a beautiful colour, popular on Valentine’s Day, the colour of love, hearts and roses, red ribbons on a box, red dripping from a tablecloth. No. He had no intention of going chemical again: take two at bedtime, breathe your way through the flashback, it’s only adrenalin, proof that you’re alive . . .
Brenda bustled in. ‘What’s going on? Kate looks upset, Kylie wants her hair bleached all one colour, and one of your dogs has took off with my Brian’s work boot, right foot.’
‘Feed them.’
‘The dogs?’
‘No, Kylie and Kate. I’m having a meeting here tonight, so I’ll warm some soup and make myself a sandwich.’
‘But I’ve made you some—’
‘Brenda?’
‘What?’
‘Go away.’
She went away.
This is seriously weird. I can see him, but I can also see through him, as if I’m some sort of time traveller with special vision. It’s all coming out of me, the words, the descriptions, a younger Tim trying to drag me while my feet are riveted to the floor. The curtains are green with white flowers; my mother was a very floral person. The cat, Toodles, is a ginger tom with attitude and a blue collar – I hear it jingling when he moves. That’s to warn the birds, of course.
There’s a lot of red, but I just see it and say it, no fear, no emotion of any kind. No panic. I think I’m talking about Stephen and Susan and Mum’s hat and coat, and none of it makes full sense, like an incomplete sentence, or a clause without a proper conclusion. In the room in my house, I see only the hypnotist and those strange green eyes with streaks of yellow like the points on a star near the pupils. A thought butts in; only 2 per cent of the world’s population has green eyes.
The hypnotist knows I’m wandering off and he gets me back, using a s
trange humming sound. I think he asks a question, and I answer it. I talk about the front garden, standing there with Tim, bending down, hands on knees as if I’ve run all the way down to Bolton town hall and back again. Mum walks past me. She’s going up the road in her best hat and coat, and this is not a Sunday. She wears her best only when visiting my paternal grandparents or going to church.
I turn and see red running over the doorstep, drip, drip, drip, and I am not frightened. It approaches me, but I know it’s not real. It was real in the mind of the child who came home for his rugby kit, but Green-with-yellow-centres-eyes is talking or humming and I know now what wasn’t real and what was. I suppose I’ve always known what was real, but the child inside me didn’t.
There’s a snap, and I’m back, blinking like someone who has slept too long. I have one thing only to say. ‘Thank you.’
He smiles at me, and those feline eyes of his twinkle. ‘Excellent, Mr Price. I have left my card on your hall table, though I suspect that you won’t be needing me again any time soon. You are a very good and responsive subject.’
They must have come here in separate cars, because Tim returns after seeing the man out. I’ve forgotten his name.
‘Bernard Humphries,’ Tim tells me. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Good. I feel great.’
He sits and tells me that he’s wanted me to see Bernie for some time, but he’d hesitated because of my prejudice against music hall acts.
I feel clean.
But now Tim clings to me, and it’s my turn to be strong. I feel his fear, because, just now, I’m not locked in by a river of blood. It’s all been about me, me, me, a selfish little boy with a mad mother and a dead father. We’re both weeping. Tim Dyson has a phobia about flying, but he loves his Julia and will sedate himself while crossing the Atlantic. When he gets there, he’ll have to deal with a death, a heartbroken woman, a house and all Julia’s chattels. ‘Look after her, Tim. And tell her I’m thinking about both of you.’
‘I will, I most certainly will.’
God, I hope this new me will last. If it doesn’t, I have the man’s card. Stop thinking about your bloody self, Price. Think about this friend and all he must face when he lands in America.
For the Love of Liverpool Page 12
