Forty-four years later, Andrew remembered the day well. There’d been a fly on the landing. Nothing dramatic, not a bluebottle, just a common housefly with absolutely no brain. A newly spun web stretched across a corner of the oriel bay, a luxury afforded to the house as it was end-of-terrace. In truth, it was a rather splendid house: built-in wardrobes, magnificent fitted kitchen, all wooden furniture built by the man downstairs. In fact, Dad had been talking about going into upholstery . . .
The man downstairs was Andrew’s father, while the second fellow was Mother’s beloved. This was all so weird. He wished he’d gone out, but he’d realized that something was afoot and wanted to be an ear witness, and he couldn’t very well walk out in the middle of everything. That fly on the window needed a map and binoculars.
Dr Shaw seemed a decent enough bloke, straight, honest and protective of Mother. But Dad was hurt. There was something missing in his voice, as if he’d suddenly lost weight through illness. Mother was going to walk out on Dad. No, she wasn’t; they were leaving the decision to Andrew. ‘I’m just a kid,’ he mouthed silently.
Then he heard about his half-sister, child of that dirty woman from the cul-de-sac behind Stuart’s house and shop. The little girl was disabled. Poor Dad had kept that to himself until now. She was lovable, since she was never naughty, because she didn’t know how to be naughty. It was so sad. Sadder still for the stupid housefly, now tangled in the web of a skilled predator. The fly suddenly seemed to be an omen of some kind, though Andrew didn’t believe in omens.
Mother’s lover left the house. Dad was sobbing like a child. ‘If you knew how much I love you . . .’
Andrew couldn’t bear any more. They were busy, so he took the opportunity to escape just as the spider returned to claim its prize. Dad was still crying, while Mother made sounds that were meant to be comforting.
He caught up easily with Dr Shaw. ‘I heard it all,’ Andrew said. ‘And I’d rather my mother didn’t know that.’
Geoff stopped walking. ‘All right. Would you like to come to my flat?’
For answer, just a nod was offered.
‘Bit of a mess,’ the visitor remarked once inside Geoff ’s place.
‘Oh, it’s really quite tidy. Your mother says this room’s like the inside of my head – chaotic.’
‘Is she right?’
‘No, she isn’t. As a doctor, I live the careful life. This is my rebellion.’
‘Aren’t you rather old to be a rebel?’
Geoff laughed heartily. ‘Not all rebels wear drainpipe trousers and long jackets. Some of us are born rebellious. I hated school, church and Mrs Armistead. She was self-elected queen of our street. If your windows weren’t clean, she’d tell you. If your curtains needed a wash, she’d send you a note. If you weren’t a churchgoing family, she’d send the vicar or, worse still, the vicar’s wife, thin as a rake, all in black. The weapon in her hand was the Bible.’
Andrew thought about that. ‘What if you were Jewish?’
‘No idea. Judaism would be a bit exotic for Mrs Armistead. She couldn’t manage even Roman Catholics. As for gypsies and beggars, she chased them with her clothes prop.’
Andrew sat. ‘Will you look after Mother? He’s always looked after her, you see. And he’s pretty rich.’
It occurred to Geoff that he was being interviewed. Usually, the woman’s father did the vetting, but this wasn’t a usual situation. ‘I’ll do my damnedest. So will your dad, because they’ll always be close in their own way.’
‘It’s weird, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, I suppose it must be from your point of view. All I can tell you is that I fell in love, and she eventually felt the same. It took a while, Andrew. Your mother’s a woman of principle. But I chipped away till I got through the ice.’
‘You’ve made her happy. Now, what do I call you?’
‘Not Dad. You’ve got a decent father in full working order.’
‘Geoff, then?’
‘It’s my name. Yes, Geoff will do.’
There followed a short pause for thought. ‘Geoff?’
‘What?’
‘My sister.’
‘Oh. Right. The sister you don’t know about because you weren’t eavesdropping.’
‘Bugger.’
Geoff agreed. ‘Double bugger. You’re best off admitting to being in the house and overhearing by accident. Then there’s the other matter. School.’
Andrew had the answer to that one. ‘Moving now while schools are closed for summer would be mad. As for renting or buying and selling houses in the space of a few weeks – more madness. Then you have to find a job. It would all be too much of a panic.’
‘So we stay.’
‘Yes.’
Most kids of Andrew’s age would be rampaging about and inflicting damage on innocent furniture, yet this lad was as cool as a frozen cucumber. ‘This must be hurting you,’ Geoff said.
‘It is. But, you see, I hated Dad for a long time. I was about thirteen, but I’m into my seventeenth year now. Things change. Dad and I are OK at last, but Mother’s really important to me. Of course, I’d prefer it if they stayed together, only that wouldn’t make her happy, would it? The way I look at it is that one of them will be happy.’ He looked directly into his companion’s face. ‘My life hasn’t begun yet – the part where I make my own choices. But I tell you now, hurt her and I’ll kill you. And I mean that.’
Because the threat had been made without anger, Geoff understood only too well that it was meant. ‘She and the job are my world, Andrew.’
The younger man blinked. ‘It’s vital that she stays steady. She’ll be comforting him now, and they’ll be crying. However life turned out for them, it was theirs. It’s all they know. The other thing is that we both almost died the day I was born. I know she’s over forty, but if she does . . . you know what I mean. We could lose her.’
‘Yes, I know all that. It won’t happen.’
‘Promise?’
‘On a stack of Mrs Armistead’s Bibles. And more to the point, on the lives of two women I adore – my mother and yours.’
With that, Andrew had to be satisfied.
He walked home slowly. In two years, he would be miles away, probably cutting up corpses from a Liverpool morgue. It was time to find his grandparents; he needed to see what they were made of.
‘Well, I have to admit, Mary, we had fun. Our son fell to bits, because no way could he cope with Richard. We had a symphony orchestra – what a bloody mess. The dog you sent wiped us all out. He has a good baritone, though he goes a bit flat now and again. I must send for the tuner. He can do both pianos and the mutt.’
‘Dad?’
He straightened and turned. It was Ian. ‘Hello, son.’
‘Still talking to her?’
‘Of course. By the way, your Eliza wears the same perfume. Mary used Estee Lauder, too. What’s going on in there?’
‘Richard’s going on. He made the second set of crackers himself. He used newspaper and wrote our names in lurid orange on each one. A very amusing man.’
‘He made you laugh.’ Andrew cleared his throat. ‘It was good to see you laughing, Ian. You’re such a serious family, you, Eliza and the boys.’
The younger man raised his eyebrows. ‘Not always, I can assure you.’
Andrew stumbled on. ‘Your mother and I were rather selfish, you see. Wrapped up in each other. We should have given more time to our children.’
Ian shrugged. ‘I never felt deprived in the least way. This is how I am, Father. The boys are the same, and my wife’s studious. But we have fun. We swim, play chess and bridge. Then there’s the sky-diving. The children are very young, but they’re eager to join in when they’re older.’
‘Your marriage is happy?’
‘Very. Look, too much emphasis is placed on parental guilt. You gave us a good life, excellent holidays, you did your best, and we were well provided for.’ He blushed. ‘I’m proud of you. Look at the number of lives you save
d among bacterial meningitis sufferers. Look how many supposedly necrotized limbs you rescued. Then there was your famous bone putty. They don’t give out OBEs like dolly mixtures. My patients ask after you. Eliza has a scrapbook that holds every newspaper and Lancet article about you or written by you. We’re quiet people. My sons are quiet people. That’s all there is to it.’
‘Thank you.’
‘What for?’
‘For telling me we weren’t to blame, Mary and I.’
‘We are all what we are, Father. But our lifespan will be somewhat abbreviated if we don’t get inside and pull Richard’s crackers.’
They walked towards the house.
‘Sky-diving?’
‘Yes, Father. Sky-diving. There are books and covers, you see. Never judge one by the other. Daniel Pope’s all cover and no substance. By comparison, you, Helen, Kate, Richard, Eliza and I are a full set of encyclopaedias.’ They stopped at the door. ‘Find another wife, Dad.’
‘On which page did you find that, Ian?’
‘It’s on the bookmark. Do it.’
The crackers were wonderful; well, their contents were wonderful. Richard explained the women’s gifts. ‘One, I got them at cost – please don’t ask where. For all I know, they may be the ill-gotten gains of one of my rather less than innocent clients. In my game, it’s silly to ask too many questions. Two, I get to touch other women. My ball and chain here doesn’t allow me to touch other women.’ He fastened delicate gold chains round the neck of every female. Even Sofia and Anya were included. From each chain, a small pearl hung.
While stroking Sofia’s neck, he spoke to his wife. ‘She has wonderful skin, Kate. You can put your own jewellery on. I can strangle you whenever I please.’
Andrew hid a smile. This was a magnificent marriage. He watched his family and was suddenly relieved and glad that they were here. Perhaps he wouldn’t become a dog-walking recluse after all?
The men had silver cufflinks decorated only by a large hallmark celebrating the millennium. ‘I’m already wearing mine,’ Richard announced, displaying the proof.
For the children, there was a bran tub. Ian and Eliza’s twin boys distributed gifts, thereby proving that they could read names. Storm received a huge bone, which item he dragged happily all through the house. Already, Andrew could hear Eva: ‘Who’s done this to me parquet?’ Perhaps he should carpet the whole house.
In the midst of merriment, Daniel Pope arrived. As he entered the largest room in the house, a heavy silence fell. Even Helen’s baby became still in her carrycot. One by one, people began to leave the room. As his wife followed the rest, Daniel tried to stop her, but she avoided him. ‘Your little girls are over there,’ she told him. ‘You’re here to visit them, no one else.’ She ushered her siblings’ children out into the hall, leaving him behind with two daughters he had neither wanted nor needed.
Ian waited for her. ‘Come on, Helen. He’s not worth a single tear. I’d have loved a daughter, and we may well try again, but we take what we’re given, don’t we?’
Eliza joined her husband. ‘All right, Helen? Eva left a Christmas cake, and your father’s been voted in to be taster. If he gets out alive, we’ll all have some. He’s already doing the I-am-choking-to-death bit.’
The party didn’t pick up after that. Daniel’s head appeared briefly while he announced his intention to leave. He had spent barely ten minutes with his daughters. As he walked down the gravel path, he seemed hunched, older and defeated.
‘You going to do that mediation thing, Helen?’ Kate asked her sister.
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
Kate glared. ‘You’re mad.’
It was in that moment that Richard showed his colours. ‘Kate? Leave it. Every marriage deserves a chance, and no two marriages are alike. What happens next between Helen and Daniel is their business.’
Andrew was watching Anya. She understood more English than she cared to admit. And she was a very pleasant woman . . .
Andrew and Stuart Abbot, supposedly brothers, were worn out. A merciless sun glared into their eyes as they followed a path that meandered across about half of Lancashire, east to west, turned north for a mile, west again, south, back to west and the dazzling rays – it was crazy. ‘This is like a maze without bushes,’ Andrew announced. ‘Why couldn’t they get land in a straighter line?’
‘This is not doable,’ Stuart complained, leaning bike and self against a five-barred gate. ‘The only way we could manage is if we camped up here.’ He took a handkerchief and mopped his forehead. ‘I wouldn’t care, but we don’t even look like brothers. That’s the long and the short of it, and I’m the short by a good four inches.’
‘How many heaths have we seen so far?’ Andrew asked. He was fast becoming tired of the word heath.
Stuart pulled a notebook from his pocket. ‘Clover Heath, Heathlands, Orchard Heath, Forest Heath, Oak Tree Heath, Heathdale, Heathmoor – all one word, the last two, like Heathlands. Bloody hell, Andy. How much further? They must own half of England. My legs are too short for all this cycling.’
‘My fault, sorry. I should have got a more detailed map. The next has to be theirs.’
‘You said that miles ago.’
‘I know. But my mother has a stake in all this. It was her birthright.’
Stuart disagreed. ‘They can disinherit her, you know. It’s not against the law. She can fight it, but only after they’re dead. Let’s sit down. I’ve had enough.’
They drank tepid lemonade and licked melted chocolate from its wrappings. While there was a pause in conversation, Andrew decided to come clean with his lifelong friend. He took a deep breath. ‘Things are awkward at home, Stu. Mother’s taken up with a doctor at the infirmary. In two years, we’re all supposed to go to Liverpool.’
‘No!’
‘Yes. Not sure I should be camping up here while Dad’s at home. He won’t hurt her, but I feel I should be there, because he’s upset, she’s upset – even the cat’s depressed.’
Stuart studied his friend of thirteen years. ‘What about you?’
‘Me? I’m the only sane one. Dad’s biggest base is in Liverpool, so he has to be there. But Mother and her doctor? I don’t want my mother following me to university. Nor do I want to be keeping an eye on her. Dad will get me a flat, I hope, so I’ll gain my independence gradually. But Geoff – he’s the doctor – has ailing parents in Liverpool. Dad, Mother and Geoff intend to get two houses close to each other so that I’ll have both my parents to hand. Am I sixteen, or am I twelve?’
Stuart nodded to indicate empathy. ‘Every morning when I’m leaving for school, my mother shouts, “Have you cleaned them teeth? Costing us a bloody fortune, they are, so make sure and look after them.” It’s like a daily prayer. I get the same at bedtime. The braces come off in a few weeks.’
Near-silence enjoyed a few seconds. Then Andrew asked, ‘Can you hear that?’
‘What?’
‘Running water.’
Both listened intently. ‘I can,’ Stuart said. ‘Come on.’
They abandoned their bikes and threw themselves happily and fully clothed into a stream so cold that it deprived them of breath. ‘Beautiful,’ Andrew yelled when his lungs recovered from shock. ‘We’ll stay cool in wet clothes.’
Wet through, they returned to their bikes and sat for a while on a small, grassy hillock. ‘Nice up here,’ Stuart said.
‘You’re right. It’s also my mother’s. Well, part of it is. They got all this land and the properties by marrying land. My mother married a person. OK, it turned out wrong, but she refused to sell herself for acreage. So they cut her off.’
‘And you want to work for them?’
Andrew considered the question. ‘No, I don’t.’
‘Then why the fish and chips with peas are we here?’
‘I’m not sure.’ But very suddenly, he was sure. ‘Right. Stay here if you like, and I’ll come back when I’ve done what needs to be done.’
‘Which is
what?’
‘Not sure yet. But I’m getting there.’
Eight
‘So I open up and I say to him, I say, “Who do you think you are knocking on my door in the middle of me washing?” And he just stands there with his mouth gaping like the Mersey Tunnel. I felt like telling him he’d be catching flies in his gob, but I decided not to bother.’
Andrew closed his eyes. The Harbinger of Doom was behind him once more, and he did his best to ignore it while writing cheques to pay household bills. She was getting worse. Or was it just because he saw more of her now, after retirement? Did people mellow with age? Perhaps normal people did; Eva showed no sign of improvement. Was she an alien? If she’d been an alien, she would have been taken to a leader, wouldn’t she? Who was leader? Probably an American Republican, but who cared? Whatever, she was still here in the house of an ex-sawbones who deserved better.
‘So he tells me he’s from Jehovah, so I say he’d best get back there sharpish, cos we’ve enough idiots of our own without bloody foreigners invading. That’s when he gets a bit more confused, like. Anyway, two others land up next to him, and he says one’s his wife and the other’s his daughter, and they’re witnesses. I asks, like, are they for the prosecution or the defence, and he frowns. No sense of humour at all, face like a smacked arse.’
Andrew put down his pen and turned to look at her. Mary, I know you loved her, but she’s driving me daft. ‘Get to the point, Eva. By the time I pay this gas bill, we’ll be into the next quarter.’
‘Ooh,’ Eva breathed. ‘Who rattled the bars of your cage? And there I was, thinking you’d passed away at your desk. Where was I?’
‘Standing at the front door surrounded by laundry.’
‘Eh?’
‘You said you were in the middle of your washing.’
‘And you do that deliberate, don’t you? Twisting words. You know what I mean. Sometimes you’re a bit too clever, Doc.’
A Liverpool Song Page 16
