‘I’m coming with you,’ Mary said in a tone that would brook no argument.
After making sure that Pam was safely inside Emily’s house, Joe helped his son and Mary into the rear seat of his car. Andrew’s nose seemed to have slowed down, so that was a small blessing. Joe was pleased for little Mary. She was better off, because Andrew knew how to behave properly, which was more than might be said for her previous boyfriend.
As they made their way to the hospital, Andrew whispered innocently to his inamorata, ‘I take it that you are no longer engaged to be married to that . . . that fragrant gentleman?’
‘If your ribs weren’t hurt, they’d get my elbow.’
He nodded, a serious expression on his face. ‘Did you give back the ring? Because we could save some money if we used it again to—’
‘No, I’m not wearing it ever.’
‘So I have to—’
‘Yes, you do.’
He laughed, but pain in the ribs soon put a stop to that.
Andrew was X-rayed, poked, prodded, questioned and irritated. So this was the receiving end? He decided that he did not have concussion, was not prepared to discuss further the possibility of concussion, nor did he want the police, a bed, another X-ray or a cup of the dishwater that was passed off as hospital tea. ‘You shouldn’t be offering that muck to somebody who may be concussed. Make your mind up.’
He thanked them for strapping him up, though he was of the opinion that ribs should be left alone unless a lung was pierced, thanked them for stopping the nosebleed, for winning the war, for inventing penicillin and for allowing him to go home at last.
‘We didn’t say you could go home,’ said the amused ward sister. ‘We always keep a head injury for a few hours. It’s hospital policy, Dr Sanderson. You surely know that after all your training.’
‘They’re often the worst patients,’ Mary commented. ‘I never yet came across a doctor with the ability to be patient or to be a patient. I’ll accept responsibility for the child. Because that’s what he is under all this bluster.’
Andrew awarded Mary a withering glance, though she withered not at all.
‘Take him away, then,’ said the ward sister. ‘Because I’ve had enough of him – how on God’s good earth do you cope? He’s a very argumentative young man.’
‘I don’t cope. I’m still serving my apprenticeship. Come on, you.’
Joseph giggled to himself on the way home. These two in the back of his car would never be short of work, because they could go on the halls as a comedy duo if medicine didn’t suit. There was something so right about them. ‘Mary?’ he asked. ‘How did you come to be engaged to such a wally?’
‘I was young and foolish,’ she replied. ‘And John was never violent; neither of them was. Now I’m the foolish one again.’
‘She’s marrying me, so that’s how foolish she is,’ Andrew said. ‘As soon as she can get her family together, we’ll be wed. Her parents emigrated to Cornwall, you see.’ He touched Mary’s hand. ‘Wait till you see the ring. You may not come across another like it ever, because it’s a one-off, very different. You’ll be the talk of Liverpool, believe me.’
Oh, heck. What had he done now? ‘What have you done, Drew? Is it a skull and crossbones or a dragon’s head?’
‘Wait and see. I’m too busy feeling pain.’
‘Get used to it if you’re marrying me.’
‘Promises, promises,’ he replied.
An anxious Emily stood on her doorstep. How was he, why hadn’t she been told, why had she been forced to wait till Pam arrived? ‘I came out, and you’d gone – I could see your car disappearing round the corner. We’ve been worried sick. Are you all right, Andrew?’
‘As long as nobody touches me, I’ll be fine. Mary’s ex managed to walk away, I see.’ He looked at his soon-to-be fiancée. ‘Come upstairs and soothe my fevered brow, woman.’
Emily led Joe inside. ‘I’ll make you a toddy. How’s Daisy, Joseph?’
‘Exactly as she always was, Em. I don’t think she has much of a memory. She’s got Bunny and Teddy and all the others, and the home staff look after her very well. The nuns are keeping an eye on her, too.’ He followed his wife into the morning room where Geoff was setting up the chessboard. ‘That’s me in for another hammering,’ Joe said before sitting across the table from his opponent. They were all so good to him, all concerned for his welfare and for Daisy.
Upstairs, Andrew led Mary into his bedroom, which was currently hers. He asked her to peel back a beautiful Hamadan rug and take up a floorboard. She complied, and lifted out a box.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘First, what the hell were you doing engaged to that twit when there were brilliant men like me in the world?’
‘Ooh, get you, Mr Perfect. They saved our lives down the scaldy when we were about ten.’ She had to explain the scaldy, the sugar works and its warm effluent. ‘I started to drown through cramp, and Pam nearly drowned trying to save me. John and Mike dragged us out and looked after us for years after that. We drifted into it when we were sixteen. It was just the next step so that Pam and I could be together for always.’
‘So you’re lesbian?’
She bared her teeth. ‘Do you want another thump?’
‘Er . . . may I take your kind offer under consideration? Give me the box.’
She handed it to him, her heart in overdrive, because she knew what was in it, but continued to wonder what the heck he’d done to ensure that her ring would be different from anything else in the world. Ah, here came the dramatics. He was such a ham at times like this.
‘Don’t hug me,’ he said.
‘I won’t hug you.’
‘Don’t kiss me. My nose is sore.’
‘I won’t.’
Like a man of at least seventy, he steadied his feeble person by placing a hand on his bed while lowering himself on to one knee. He opened the box with his teeth. ‘And don’t laugh.’
‘I won’t laugh.’ Hysterical, she turned her back on him.
‘You’re laughing.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Your back’s shaking. And I am not proposing to your bum.’
Mary managed to calm down, but she couldn’t look at him.
‘On this solemn and important occasion,’ he began, ‘I must say before we go any further—’
She ran into the bathroom and slammed the door while her almost-fiancé banged the box lid closed.
Andrew stood up with no difficulty and sat on the bed. They had just made another time to remember, a gem that would shine forever like Great-gran’s jewellery. He opened the box again. The engagement ring was an ellipse crammed with small, perfect white diamonds. A wedding ring in a second slot was shaped to cradle the ellipse. Mary was going to love this because it was not only beautiful, it was also unusual and quirky, as was she.
Mary emerged, still dabbing at her face with a flannel. ‘Well? Get on with it. I’ve rearranged myself and altered my attitude.’
‘You have done no such thing. Here I am, mortally wounded, and you think it’s hilarious. So I’m sulking. I’m good at sulking.’
‘Ah, yet another talent. Shall I go home, then?’
‘This is your home. Pam can move across the street over Dad’s house once we’re married. Is there someone she’d share with?’
‘I suppose so. Still sulking?’
‘Oh, yes. I forgot.’ He folded his arms, cringed, and unfolded them. ‘I was hoping to bed you tonight, young lady. However, under the circumstances, I have to allow you to tether me blind. While mixing metaphors, I might as well say we’re jumping in without testing the water, aren’t we?’
She nodded. ‘You may be no good at it.’
‘I love you, Miss Collins.’
‘And I love you, Dr Sanderson.’
He offered the box and watched her face while she became a delighted child. The jewellery, recently cleaned, was splendid without being garish. ‘This wedding ring’s made to fit round the shape of t
he engagement one,’ she cried, clapping her hands. ‘No one else will have anything like this, you’re right.’
‘It’s an heirloom. Semper fidelis is engraved in the wedding band.’
‘Thank you, thank you.’ She stopped jigging about. ‘Oh, you missed a bit out. The marrying bit.’
‘Will you?’ he asked.
She considered the question. ‘OK. Just this once, though.’
And that was it. In the interest of ribs and nose, no hugging, no kissing, no cuddles. Sometimes, a moment became special and memorable because it was wrong, because it didn’t live up to expectations. For many years, the picture of Mary delighting over Great-grandmother’s rings was set in a frame in Andrew’s memory. Occasionally, he would take it out, rub it clean with his mind’s eye and relive the joy of that precious time.
So, in the space of a few hours, Andrew had been battered, fought back, sorted out a hospital department’s attitude to suspected concussion, had his ribs strapped, become engaged to a beautiful woman and learned to play the piano in modern jazz tempo. It was one of the best nights of his life. And Mary was top of the bill. Always.
Andrew went back to Dad’s to nurse his wounds. He visited Mary and Pam every day, but grew determined to save lovemaking until the wedding night. Why? He had no bloody idea, but he’d hung on this far and could manage the extra mile. There was stuff going on behind his back – dresses, hair ornaments, shoes – all the items he wasn’t allowed to see because of bad luck. Bad luck? He’d had his share already with the Webster boys.
He knocked on the door of his own flat in Mother’s house, unable to walk in, since the bolts were on. It should be easy to get annoyed, yet he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried. There was something lovable about Pam, too. She was another good nurse, a pleasant girl with humour and no boyfriend, but Andrew had plans for her. Stuart was going to be best man, of course, but a few young doctors would be attending, including one shy lad who needed a Pam to bring him out of himself.
The door opened a few inches, and a green face inserted itself in the gap. ‘You can’t come in. We’re green.’
He pressed a hand to his chest. ‘Thank God for that; I thought I was haunted. Are you my Mary or Mary’s Pam?’
‘No, I’m the ghost of quarter to twelve.’
He had to ask, couldn’t resist. ‘Why quarter to?’
‘Cos I’m not all there. I mustn’t be all there, letting Mary spread this mess all over me gob.’
Andrew felt he deserved that reply for taking the bait. ‘May I come in, Pam? It’s a bit of a bugger when a man can’t get into his own place.’
Pam shouted over her shoulder. ‘It’s him. Can he come in?’
‘Not while I’m green.’
‘She says not while—’ She suddenly found herself pushed to one side.
Andrew strode in, determined to be bold. He said a quick hello to George, then sat in his own living room on his own favourite chair after tossing aside a bridal magazine that was nothing at all to do with him. Women, in his opinion, made far too much fuss about this sort of thing. A second green-faced woman passed through. ‘Hello, love of my life,’ he said. ‘May I have the ring back? I didn’t know I was marrying a Martian.’
‘Shut up, you,’ was all he got in return.
He’d show her who was boss. In a few days, she would be chained to the sink or to a bed, no choice in the matter. Mary had bought new sheets, silk ones. They’d probably need to stick together just to stay warm in those slippery, shiny things. He wondered idly why the girls had turned green, but guessed it was something to do with beauty. ‘How often do you go green?’ he shouted. ‘And can you give me adequate warning in future then I can take my pleasure elsewhere?’
She reappeared, back in the pink, but bearing weapons. She waved a loofah and a brush for scrubbing backs. ‘Where would you like me to shove these?’ she asked sweetly. ‘Think carefully before naming an orifice.’
‘In my bathroom.’
‘Come on, then.’ She led him by the hand, locked the bathroom door and undressed him. She studied his fading bruises, said he’d live and told him to get in the bath. ‘Fine figure of a man,’ she said before beginning his ablutions. ‘Yes, very promising, Dr Sanderson. Though so far, a promise is the best I’ve been given. No action whatsoever.’
He hadn’t been bathed by a woman since childhood. ‘I believe I couldn’t live without you, Mary.’
‘You could. You might have to one day.’
He shivered. Did someone just walk on his grave? Or hers? Dear God, let it be mine. He stood and allowed her to dry him. She was meticulous but gentle, so tender, so loving. ‘I’m a lucky man,’ he whispered.
‘From my point of view, I’m the fortunate one,’ she replied. ‘You’re just about perfect except for the bruises. They’ve nearly gone, but I was responsible for those.’
‘No, you weren’t. Life at sea seems to change some people, though they must have allowed the change to happen. Where’s Pam?’
‘In her room. I told her to go away. Still want to wait till Saturday, then?’
‘No. But I shall. It will be special.’
‘Dr Romantic. I’ll make a drink, then you can go back to Joe’s.’
‘Oh no. I’m sleeping with you. Dad’s OK. I’ll see you in bed.’
It wasn’t easy this time. Compromises were reached, possibilities explored, while sighs and giggles abounded. ‘We are the forever children,’ he told her. ‘We go hand in hand. I forget the name of the poet.’
‘Get your toenails cut,’ she ordered.
‘No, that wasn’t his name. I think it was Wilfred Owen.’
‘Will we be happy, Drew?’
‘We have to be. Go to sleep.’
Morning brought a different story altogether. Mary didn’t want to wait. As far as she was concerned, people should have a few trial runs before embarking on the marathon named marriage. Practical as ever, she took charge. ‘Don’t worry about this,’ she told him sweetly when he opened an eye. ‘I won’t hurt you. Just lie back, close your eyes and think of England.’
The words ‘role’ and ‘reversal’ shot through his sleepy brain. It was already too late; she was taking advantage of him, and she was doing a fair job. Fair became good, good became excellent, excellent became amazing. This small, naked woman was a force he would never tame. Not once did she lose eye contact with him. Oh yes, she meant what she was doing, all right.
‘There,’ she said when the deed was done. ‘I can cross that off my “to do” list. Your mother’s icing the cake, Pam’s going to see the florist and Stuart will mind my wedding ring, the sex was OK—’ She burst out laughing. ‘That was lovely, baby.’
‘Yes, it was,’ he agreed. ‘But I thought you were a lady.’
The laughter stopped and became a frown. ‘No. I’m a woman. I was born in a cruddy little flat over a chandlery shop on Scottie Road. I have three brothers and two sisters, and nobody knows where they are, because they buggered off down south when I was young. My mam and dad were tired, so when they won the pools I sent them off to live somewhere a bit warmer. The others don’t know about the win, or they’d have hung around like bad smells till they got their hands on that bit of money. We never had much, Mam, Dad and I, but they looked after me, Drew. They’re so proud of their little girl going in for nursing. But the word “lady” actually annoys me. I’m a woman. A lady’s a boring bugger in a hat.’
‘You certainly are a woman. Shall we try for an encore?’
‘Yes, please. But get those bloody toenails cut before Saturday.’ She stood up and pulled on a robe. ‘Tea and toast first, have to keep your strength up. Where are your clippers?’
‘Top drawer.’
‘I’ll cut them myself in a minute. I don’t fancy scratches on my legs.’
Andrew lay with hands clasped behind his head and stared at the ceiling. She was incredible. He’d had sex before, but he’d never made love. Love made the difference, then, just as he’d expe
cted. Did he regret what had happened this morning? No. She had wanted closeness, so she had instigated it. One of the most lovable qualities in Mary was honesty; another was her refusal to be shy, and she didn’t mind taking the lead. He looked forward to living under her dictatorship. As for her parents, they were right to be proud of her.
She came back with toast, tea, honey and marmalade. ‘Eat,’ she ordered. ‘Why are you staring at me?’
He smiled. ‘I suspected that you were wonderful, and I do love to be right. Ouch! That’s no way to treat the Daily Telegraph, or my head.’
They ate, did his pedicure, made love, washed, dressed, and went to work. It was a brilliant day. Mary discovered that she’d come out top in the exams and that she was to receive an award, a medal of some kind left by a long-dead hospital matron. Andrew was approached by Mr Compton-Gore, who was just about the best orthopaedic surgeon for many a mile. At last, he was on the team and on his way to making George’s existence more meaningful. Bones. He was going to be a mender, a reshaper, a carpenter.
Andrew fell in love immediately with his precious girl’s parents. The first thing they asked of him was a run to Scotland Road where they clung together while staring at their old shop. They had raised six children here and, because of the business, they’d been too worn out to keep track of the five older ones. Mary, their little afterthought, was the only one who had turned out to be decent. ‘We had more time for her, you see,’ they said, speaking in turn like a well-rehearsed act. ‘We got help in the shop. Mary was one on her own, always bright and clever, though she was a little monkey when she had a cob on. We just feel we should have made time for the rest of the kids when they were young.’
‘It’s not easy,’ Andrew said.
‘No,’ they chimed together.
‘You did your best,’ Andrew told them. ‘With six stomachs to fill, you had to work long hours.’ But he could tell that Enid and Bert Collins would always blame themselves, and that saddened him.
A Liverpool Song Page 29
