Lime Street Blues

by Maureen Lee

  What were they to do, she and Lachlan? More to the point, what was she to do? Lachlan seemed perfectly happy to continue as he was, on the road for most of the time, buried in the basement when he was home, whereas her own career amounted to very little – a few engagements a year, the occasional record.

  She hadn’t realised quite how unhappy she was until last week. A happily married woman would never have allowed another man to make love to her and enjoyed it quite so much. She still felt guilty – she always would – remembering how willingly she’d surrendered herself to Sean McDowd. She’d been hypnotised by his dark eyes, the touch of his long slender fingers. Oh, Lord! She’d been so easy! She preferred not to think what would happen if Lachlan ever found out what she’d done.

  By now, it was completely dark and the only sound was the busy rustle of the black water. The streetlights made the sky over Liverpool appear a dull orange and in Noah’s Ark the brightly lit windows glowed a warm welcome. Jeannie went through the back gate and trudged up the garden, past the swimming pool, and into the house. She didn’t feel particularly welcome. When they’d first looked over the house – it must be at least ten years ago – she’d thought it was a place that needed lots of people, a family. It was too big for just the two of them. She wondered if Lachlan would agree to them getting rid of it, buying something smaller, cosier, like Magnolia Cottage or the McDowds’ mews house.

  She went into the kitchen and was surprised to find him there, about to put the kettle on, and felt a rush of love that almost made her choke.

  ‘I was just coming to look for you, babe,’ he said. ‘I think it’s about time we had a talk.’

  It had only just struck him that they hadn’t seen each other for a fortnight, yet he’d done a disappearing act as soon as he got home. He was sorry. It was thoughtless of him. It was just that he’d had stuff in his head, music, lyrics, that he was worried he’d forget.

  They both agreed that her life was very unsatisfactory. He spent so much time away and she was lonely on her own in the big, isolated house that her mother had once called a mausoleum. Jeannie waited for him to suggest they move to a smaller place and eventually he did.

  ‘But what about the studio?’ she felt bound to remind him.

  ‘I’m the only one who uses it these days. All I do is fiddle about.’ The other Survivors, Fly and Cobb, both lived in London and the final recordings were made in a studio there. ‘We could buy a flat in London, as well as a house here,’ Lachlan went on. ‘I could hire a studio to do my fiddling about.’

  Jeannie said she loved the idea of living in London for a few months of the year. ‘It would be wonderful.’ She could see Zoe, Rita, and Marcia when she came to town, the McDowds. ‘But Lachlan,’ she said, ‘will it ever stop? Will the Survivors still be playing when they’re old, old men?’

  For a moment, he looked flummoxed, as if he hadn’t understood the question. ‘I reckon so, babe,’ he said slowly and there was a hint of fear in his voice. ‘I can’t think of anything else I’d want to do. I’d die if I wasn’t involved in music.’

  ‘I see.’ Jeannie sighed.

  Neither of them mentioned children. Over the years, he’d said a few times how much he would like a family, but he didn’t need one, not like her. With Lachlan, if he thought about it at all, it was a question of pride. His brothers, the terrible trio, were all grown men, all married with children. For her, it was a never-ending ache, a feeling of loss for the babies that hadn’t been born.

  They went to bed early, but didn’t make love, falling asleep in each other’s arms. When Jeannie woke, it was just gone midnight and Lachlan wasn’t there. She went down to the studio and found him lying on the floor wearing only a pair of shorts. His body felt cold, but his heart was beating normally and his breathing steady. The drawer where he kept his stash of drugs was open. He must have been unable to sleep and had come to get a tablet.

  Jeannie fetched a duvet, lay down beside him, and pulled it over them both. She put her arm around his waist and felt his body gradually getting warmer. Then she fell asleep herself.

  Lachlan woke first and began to touch her. They made love very slowly, leisurely, neither saying a word. It was a strange, satisfying, almost mystical experience. Afterwards, they slept for hours, until it was broad daylight, and the weak suggestion of a sun glittered over the River Mersey.

  Later, he was to claim that that was the night Jeannie had conceived. ‘When we were both totally relaxed, babe, not really thinking of anything but each other.’

  But Jeannie knew differently.

  Antony Peter Bailey, weighing 7 pounds, 11 ounces, made his first appearance on the world’s stage in the middle of June, 1976. He was a perfect baby in every way apart from a complete lack of hair. Jeannie had had a trouble-free pregnancy followed by a straightforward birth. Antony slept when he was supposed to, rarely cried, and took to his mother’s breast like a dream.

  The Baileys declared him to be the image of his father, but the Flowers claimed he had his mother’s looks. Only Jeannie could see a distinct resemblance to Sean McDowd in the neat features of her son though, naturally, she didn’t mention it to a soul.

  Antony was two weeks old when he and Lachlan had a photograph taken that appeared in three national newspapers and the Liverpool Echo. It showed Lachlan in his leather gear, bare-chested, hair sprouting wildly from under the band around his forehead, looking like some sort of space age pirate, as he cradled his tiny, naked son next to his heart. Antony’s eyes were wide open and they appeared to be looking straight into his father’s tender eyes. the survivor and his son had been one of the headlines. Jeannie had ordered half a dozen copies and they were scattered around the house.

  Lachlan adored his son. Jeannie was the only person in the world who knew the truth, yet the secret didn’t feel safe, not even with her. It was a terrible secret to have to keep over an entire lifetime. She was worried that one day she would blurt it out, unable to help herself.

  In view of the changed circumstances, they had decided not to sell the house. Jeannie had thought it perfect for a family, and now they had one. She couldn’t wait for the nurse, who stayed for two months after the birth, to leave, so she could have her son to herself.

  ‘She was very nice, but I’m glad she’s gone, aren’t you?’ Jeannie whispered to Antony on the day the nurse left for good. Antony, sucking contentedly at her breast, looked at her wisely with his big blue eyes, and nodded. At least, Jeannie could have sworn he nodded. ‘I don’t care what I’ve done,’ she told him. ‘Lachlan’s happy, I’m happy, and you look happy enough to me, so where’s the harm?’

  Chapter 13

  Tom Flowers had been sent invitations to his children’s weddings, his grandchildren’s christenings, their birthday parties, but not once had he replied, let alone turned up. Jeannie was therefore astonished when her father arrived at the church for the christening of Antony Peter Bailey, now two and a half months old. He was accompanied by Mrs Denning, plump and grandmotherly in fuchsia silk. Tom was an erect, uncompromising figure, still with an enviable head of thick wavy hair, now completely grey. Jeannie was even more surprised when he came back to the house for refreshments. His change of heart might have been due to Jeannie having gone to the funeral of Colonel Corbett, who had died earlier in the year. The other Flower Girls had sent wreaths in appreciation of the colonel’s help at the start of their careers.

  ‘Oh, my God!’ Rose Flowers gasped when she saw Tom come marching in. ‘What on earth is he doing here? I don’t know whether to speak to him or not.’

  Perhaps because it was August and the weather so fine that every one of Jeannie’s invitations had been accepted. All the Baileys were there. Marcia had left her brood in Harwood Hall and come alone. She was already heavily pregnant with her sixth child. Gerald was there with Helen and their two children, Zoe with her latest boyfriend, Stella and her new husband, and Fly and his new wife. Kevin and Sadie McDowd had stopped over on their way by plane to Ire
land. Rita had brought Mavis who’d learnt to drive and chauffeured her everywhere. It was a strange relationship, people thought. It was hard to know who was in charge. Sean McDowd was in America – Jeannie hadn’t sent him an invitation.

  There’d been a crowd waiting outside the church anxious for a glimpse of the Survivors and any other stars who might be present. Now the crowd was outside the house, being held at bay by two enormous bodyguards.

  Noah’s Ark was at its best in summer, but then most houses were. The French windows were thrown open, the house bright with sunshine, and the gardens in full bloom. The pool was packed with children, screaming and gleefully splashing water at each other and any unfortunate adult who happened to go near.

  Jeannie and Elaine were sitting on a bench in a shady corner where they could keep an eye on things. ‘Soon,’ Jeannie told Antony who was fast asleep in her arms, ‘you’ll be doing that, splashing everyone in sight.’

  ‘He’s gorgeous,’ said Elaine, ‘and so good. It’s a pleasure to be godmother to such a well-behaved child. He didn’t turn a hair when the vicar poured water over him.’

  ‘That’s not surprising,’ Jeannie remarked. ‘He hasn’t got a hair to turn. Well, only a few and they’re hardly visible. I hope he gets some soon.’

  ‘He’s still gorgeous, bald and gorgeous. I wonder if his eyes will turn brown like Lachlan’s?’

  ‘We’ll just have to wait and see,’ Jeannie said casually.

  ‘Can I hold him a minute?’ Elaine sighed happily as she took the little boy with exaggerated care. ‘I’d begun to think you two would never have a baby and, seeing as they could find nothing wrong with you, then it must be something to do with our Lachlan, a low sperm count maybe.’

  ‘It seemed a waste of time finding out.’ Jeannie shrugged. ‘It never crossed his mind it could be his fault and nothing could have been done if it was – at least not yet. Imagine how he would have felt. The great sex symbol, unable to father a child.’

  ‘I’m glad it worked out all right in the end.’ Elaine regarded Antony critically. ‘He’s ever so like Lachlan, but I think he’s got your mouth.’

  ‘Could be.’

  Lachlan came and sat on the arm of the bench. He had changed out of his formal suit into jeans and T-shirt. ‘Ace is just the first of many, isn’t he, babe? We’re going to have at least another three, all boys,’ he told his sister.

  ‘Please don’t call him Ace, Lachlan,’ Jeannie groaned. ‘It makes him sound like a card sharp.’

  ‘Yeah, well he’s an ace kid.’

  ‘Elaine just said he was gorgeous, but it doesn’t mean we have to call him that.’

  ‘Actually,’ Elaine said, ‘I quite like the name Ace. It’s unusual.’

  ‘So’s Gorgeous, except his name’s Antony and that’s how it’s going to stay.’

  ‘Hello, Rose.’ Tom Flowers came into the kitchen where his wife was pouring wine for her daughters to take around the guests.

  ‘Hello, Tom.’ Rose was pleased her hand didn’t show the slightest tremor. ‘How are things with you these days?’

  ‘Good, Rose. Very good indeed.’ He rubbed his palms together vigorously as if to prove how good things were. ‘And how are you?’

  ‘Very well. We’ve just heard Amy’s passed the eleven-plus. Next month, she’s starting at Orrell Park Grammar School.’

  ‘Just like our Jeannie.’

  ‘Yes, just like Jeannie. But that seems an awful long time ago.’

  ‘It’s twenty years, Rose.’

  ‘So it is! How time flies.’ She couldn’t believe this man used to be her husband, still was according to the law of the land. It was like talking to an old uncle she hadn’t seen in ages.

  ‘He used to be keen on you.’ Tom nodded in her direction and gave a dry chuckle.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Colonel Max. He really fancied you.’

  Rose realised he was nodding not at her, but at the ruby and diamond ring on the middle finger of her right hand. The bulk of Colonel Max’s estate had gone to cousins he’d hardly known. There’d been just a few bequests; Tom and Mrs Denning had been left a thousand pounds each, and to Rose’s utter astonishment, the colonel had bequeathed her his mother’s engagement ring.

  ‘I’m sure that’s not true, Tom,’ she said uncomfortably.

  ‘It’s as true as I’m standing here. I hadn’t planned on asking you to marry me until you were eighteen. After seeing the way the colonel looked at you the night of that party, I thought I’d better get a move on.’

  He chuckled again and Rose felt even more uncomfortable at the idea of two middle-aged men vying for her heart. It made her feel slightly sick and she wondered if she would still have wanted to marry Tom when she was two years older.

  ‘One of the reasons I came today,’ Tom was saying pompously, ‘was so I could have a word with you about a divorce. You can have one whenever you like. Just tell your solicitor to send the forms and I’ll sign them.’

  ‘Thank you, Tom.’

  ‘Me and Nora – Mrs Denning – might tie the knot one day. I’m not sure when. We’ll just have to see.’

  ‘Don’t leave it too long. You should snatch all the happiness you can out of this life.’

  He gave a rather stiff smile. ‘Well, you certainly did, Rose.’

  ‘Yes, but I only wish I’d done it sooner, Tom.’

  Alex came in just as Tom stomped out of the door. ‘What did he want?’ He wore a white suit, white tie, and a coral shirt. He still had a taste for snazzy clothes.

  ‘To say I could have a divorce.’

  ‘You should have told him to screw his divorce. We’re perfectly happy as we are.’

  ‘I know, but I’d like us to be married for the girls’ sake.’ She put her arms around his neck. ‘We could have a honeymoon, somewhere romantic.’

  ‘And take the girls?’

  ‘Of course. Oh, kiss me, Alex. Kiss me. All of a sudden, I’m not sure if you’re real.’

  ‘I’m real all right, darling.’ Alex kissed her. ‘And tonight I’ll show you just how real.’

  ‘You know, I wouldn’t mind having a few kids before I get too old,’ Mavis mused.

  Rita looked at her in astonishment. ‘You’ve never said anything like that before!’

  ‘I’ve never thought it before, that’s why. It’s just that that baby looks so bloomin’ scrumptious, I could eat him.’

  ‘You’re already too old,’ Rita said cruelly. ‘And you’re too fat and probably too unhealthy.’

  ‘I’m forty-one. I ain’t exactly ready to kick the bucket, darlin’. If the truth be known, I’m as fit as a bloomin’ fiddle. When have you ever known me take to me bed with anything wrong? Not like the person who happens to be sitting next to me. See that woman over there? She ain’t no chicken, but she’s got two little girls. I must say, her old man’s a bit of all right. I like a bloke who’s a snappy dresser.’

  ‘That’s Jeannie’s mother. Have you had too much to drink or something? One minute you’re wanting kids, next you’re eyeing up some other woman’s husband.’

  ‘I’m feeling broody,’ Mavis announced. ‘It’s that baby, Antony, and all these other bloomin’ kids. There must be at least twenty and not a single one of ’em’s mine. I’m jealous.’

  Not long after this conversation, Rita made her excuses and the two women left. It was the first time they’d been to a christening and Rita resolved it would be their last; weddings too. She’d had no idea Mavis nursed a desire to become a mother and it was a desire she had no intention of encouraging. She needed Mavis too much herself.

  ‘I think I’ll put him down,’ said Jeannie. ‘It doesn’t look as if he’s prepared to wake up and charm everybody.’

  ‘I’ll come with you. He’s probably bored out of his mind with all these people and is staying asleep on purpose.’

  ‘You’re becoming awfully cynical in your old age, Elaine Bailey.’

  ‘If I’m old, what about you?
You’re three months older than I am.’

  ‘Yes, but I’m not cynical.’

  They went into the house, passing Lachlan, who was saying to Stella, ‘We’re hoping to have another three, all boys.’

  ‘It’s all right for him,’ Elaine snorted. ‘The man’s part of the procedure is minimal – and highly enjoyable. It’s not quite so simple for women. How do you feel about more children, Jeannie?’

  ‘However I feel, it’s easier said than done, isn’t it? It took years for us to have Antony.’ She kissed her son’s white forehead and laid him in his cot beside the bed in their room. There’d been a nursery prepared for months, but neither she nor Lachlan could bear to let him sleep on his own. If only she could tell Elaine the truth, that Antony wasn’t Lachlan’s child and there was hardly a chance in the world of her having another. ‘I’d sooner he wasn’t an only child,’ she murmured. ‘I can’t imagine being without Max and Gerald when I was growing up.’

  ‘I would have been quite happy without our Marcia, but not my brothers.’

  ‘Your Marcia’s not so bad these days.’

  ‘Our Marcia will never be all right until she’s permanently gagged.’

  ‘My, you are becoming cynical.’ Jeannie stared at her friend. A few years ago, Elaine had started to wear glasses, the stern, horn-rimmed sort. Her dark hair was piled in an untidy, unflattering knot at the nape of her neck, and she wore no make-up or jewellery. The youthful prettiness was still there, but you had to look hard to see it. ‘Don’t you want to get married and have children of your own? It can’t exactly be pleasant, spending all day delving into people’s brains.’