‘As far as we know, yes. Sit down, boys.’
They sat.
‘Now,’ the officer said, ‘you visited your father yesterday, didn’t you? Yes, it’s gone midnight. Did . . . er . . . did you notice anything different about him?’
Neil spoke up. ‘He was crying. We’ve never seen him cry before, have we, Tony? He shouts and hits us and Mam, but he never cries.’
‘So you didn’t go to see your mother?’ Harry asked. ‘I thought––’
‘He’d been begging us to visit him.’ Neil’s voice quivered. ‘We had a visiting order, only we didn’t tell anybody, because we know you all hate him. We’ll go and see Mam tomorrow.’
The constable continued. ‘There’s no easy way to say this, lads, but your dad’s dead. He . . . he did away with himself a few hours after you’d gone.’
The blood drained away from both boys’ faces. ‘So he wanted to see us one last time, then,’ Neil whispered. ‘We told him Mam hadn’t come round and he said . . . what did he say, Tony?’
‘That even if she lived, he’d be sent down for attempted murder.’
Harry realized that he was suddenly looking at two little boys. Not that they were small, but they seemed lost, confused and frightened. Tony, apprenticed to Harry, was learning the basics of plumbing, while the younger boy was doing well under the guidance of a master plasterer. ‘You carry on living with me. I’ll look after you till your mum gets well.’
‘We’ll be good,’ Tony promised.
‘You will.’ Harry knew they would. Vera’s boys had learned the hard way that life wasn’t easy, and that it ended sometimes without warning. Their mother’s life hung in the balance, while their father had killed himself in a cell. But they would be OK; Harry would make sure of that.
Six
A needle in one of Vera’s arms was delivering into her system something akin to nourishment, while extra oxygen pumped its way to her lungs via a mask. She looked unreal, like a wax doll or some macabre piece in a waxworks exhibition. One of her visitors noticed a change. She kept her opinion to herself in case she was wrong, but she suspected that Vera was reaching sleep and leaving the coma behind, because the eyes moved slightly under the patient’s closed lids.
Alice stood by the bed and said nothing about what she had seen, each arm draped across the shoulders of one of the Corcoran boys. Their father had hanged himself in his remand cell, while their mother seemed to be clinging to life with a grim determination typical of women in this part of the world. Alice knew the lads had been labelled as irretrievably bad, but they weren’t; they had been confused by a lunatic, alcohol-dependent father and a mother weakened by ill-treatment. ‘She looks no worse,’ she told them. ‘In fact, she’s not as pale as she was. See, there’s a bit of colour in her face.’ There was no great change apart from the slight eye movements, but Alice was doing her best to remain determinedly hopeful without making any promises.
Harry Thompson sat at the other side of the bed, both his hands enfolding one of Vera’s. As her once-upon-a-time boyfriend and long-term neighbour, he found himself willing her to live not for his sake, but for her own, Tony’s and Neil’s. ‘Come on, love,’ he urged, ‘he’ll not hurt you again, I promise. Your lads are staying with me till you get right, and they’ve both got apprenticeships. That’ll take the devil out of them. They’ll not follow in his footsteps.’
‘We won’t, Mam. We promise,’ Neil whispered. His brother, older and determinedly tougher, said nothing, though fear was etched into his features.
Alice pulled Tony closer. She knew he would go away and weep in solitude at the earliest opportunity. ‘All right, lads,’ she urged. ‘Let’s go and warm up that cauldron, shall we?’
Both adult visitors studied the grieving boys. Jimmy hadn’t been much of a parent, but he’d still been their dad. ‘Scouse for tea, lads,’ Harry reminded them. ‘She makes a good scouse, don’t you, Alice? And we’re invited.’
‘Where’s mine?’ asked a rusty voice. ‘I’m bloody starving here. Can’t remember when I last had a decent chip butty or a good cuppa.’
All four heads swung round towards the pillow end of the bed. The oxygen mask hung at a rakish angle over one of Vera’s ears. She pulled at it, as it was blowing air in the wrong place. ‘Bloody weather,’ she cursed, ‘gone windy again. I want a cup of tea.’
Neil left the room screaming, ‘Doctor! Nurse! Me mam’s woke up. And she’s talking!’
For the first time since babyhood, Tony Corcoran wept while in company, and he didn’t bother to wipe the water from his cheeks. Mam was coming back, and she might even be home soon.
A battalion of medics arrived, and all four non-essential onlookers were shunted out into the corridor.
Tony, suddenly galvanized, dashed off to compose himself in private. Neil sniffed. ‘He cries in bed every night, but I don’t say nothing. He wants us to think he’s dead hard.’
Harry grabbed Alice’s hand and squeezed it. ‘She seemed to be thinking clearly, asking for some dinner and a cuppa.’
‘She did. Let’s hope she soon gets back into top gear, then they’ll throw her out just for a bit of peace and quiet.’
Neil chuckled. ‘She’s our Liverpool Echo,’ he announced, grinning broadly. ‘We’ll be able to look after her now, what with us working and him gone. Mrs Konstant Enough was saying she wants a bit of help so she can give her dog longer walks. Mam could work for her.’
‘Konstantinov,’ Alice said wearily. She looked at Harry. ‘Have you trained these two to call Olga daft names?’
He shook his head before plastering an innocent grin across his face. ‘No – he nearly had it, because it sounds like constant enough, doesn’t it?’
She gave up – he was almost correct, anyway, but wrong enough to make her angry. No, not angry; annoyed was closer to the mark. Try though she might, she couldn’t manage to be angry with Harry Thompson.
The doctor came out of Vera’s room. ‘Well, she’s lost a few days, but that’s understandable. She says she can tell she’s in hospital because of the stink, and she’s not living with her husband any more because he tried to kill her. I’ll leave it to you to tell her he’s no longer with us. I can safely say she’s on her way to full recovery. She’s going to sue us for shaving her hair off.’
‘That’s a good sign.’ Harry winked at Alice. ‘She only sues folk when she’s normal. If she wasn’t normal, she’d just thump you with her yard brush.’
Neil gulped. ‘I’d best find our kid,’ he said before running off down the corridor. The doctor returned to Vera’s room.
Harry took the opportunity to cuddle the woman he was beginning to love. ‘She’s going to make it – oh, thank God.’ He kissed her hair. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Of course I’m OK. Stop it. Dan and I are together now, and you and I are here just for Vera and her boys, anyway, so back off.’
He released her. ‘I see. Well, that’s me heartbroken all over again.’
‘Stop thinking about yourself, then. Concentrate on Vera and her sons – they’ll still want help. And I need to look after my husband and give him the child he wants. Harry, please don’t confuse me. You know I’m fond of you, but Dan comes first.’
‘You’re first for me, Alice. Did he manage, then?’
She glared at him, though she was really angrier with herself for confiding in him. ‘Enough,’ she snapped.
‘Constant enough?’
‘Stop it now or I’m going home.’ She walked away from him and leaned against the opposite wall. Dan had managed, all right, but it had happened in a strange way, and she’d had not a moment’s pleasure, because she’d been expecting him to die. Getting worked up into a lather might have caused another stroke; as for being penetrated from behind – well, she’d felt like a stray bitch.
‘You sulking, Mrs Quigley?’
Alice closed her eyes. ‘Shut up.’
‘Here comes the other doctor and Sister Hughes with all her bridesmaids.’
Sister Hughes slapped him on the arm. ‘You can go back in now, but try to keep her calm. The drip’s out, and she’s begging for food, so we’ll find something light for her.’
They returned to the bedside; Vera was not best pleased. ‘They fetch you in here to make you better, then they starve you to death.’ Despite frailty, she motored on. ‘Drink of water – that’s all I’ve had – Adam’s ale from a cup with a spout on it. I told them I’m that hungry I might eat the pillow, and they just laughed at me. It’s not funny when your stomach thinks your throat’s cut.’
‘Slow down,’ Alice said. ‘Just shut up and listen before the boys come back. We’ve something to tell you.’ She dug her companion in the ribs. ‘Go on, then. You’ve known Vera for a long time.’
Harry nodded. ‘Jimmy did away with himself, Vee. He was on remand for attempted murder, and he tied the sheets and well . . . he’s gone.’
‘Did he hang himself, then?’
‘He did.’
Vera blinked a few times. ‘Right. Any bad news?’
Having glimpsed a split second of pain in the patient’s eyes, Alice smiled sadly. ‘No, it’s all good. Harry got apprenticeships for the boys. Tony’s on plumbing, and Neil’s learning plastering.’
‘Jimmy was good at getting plastered.’ Vera pondered for a moment. ‘Why have they cut all my hair off?’
Patiently, Alice explained about the fractured skull and doctors looking for brain damage. ‘But there’s clearly nothing wrong with your brain, Vera.’
‘Me stomach feels like it’s shrunk to the size of a pea. Have you not brought me grapes?’
The boys returned and stood at the bottom of the bed grinning like a couple of fools. Neil dug in his pocket and dragged out a liquorice all-sort of uncertain vintage. ‘Sorry about the bits of fluff, Mam. It’s been in me pocket for a few days.’ He moved to stand by her side.
‘This won’t be easy without me teeth.’ But she managed.
Now that the mask and the feeding tube were gone, Vera looked about ninety without her teeth and with unbandaged portions of her scalp on show. Alice tried hard to imagine the woman in the bed as a young girl, pretty and lively with bouncy red curls, but she failed. This was what happened to someone who married the wrong man. Harry would have been good to Vera, and her life could have been so different, so much happier, because Harry was funny and kind and . . . she pulled herself together, announcing that she needed to get home to feed her own invalid.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Vera announced. ‘Where’s me clothes?’
‘You can’t,’ Tony cried. ‘You can’t come home till they say so.’
‘Just watch me,’ she said. But sitting up made her dizzy and, when her equilibrium returned and she placed her feet on the ground, she collapsed in Harry’s arms. ‘Shit and derision,’ she snapped, ‘what the buggeration have they done with me legs? There was nothing wrong with me legs. I came in with me head, not with me lower portions. They’ve made me worse, and I’m not having it. Tony, go and get that bloody doctor and ask him what the pigging hell he’s done with me legs.’
Harry grinned. ‘Are you sure they’re your legs, love? Do you think they got the legs mixed up and gave you the wrong ones?’
Vera eyed Alice. ‘See? He talked tripe as a lad, and he’s still doing it.’
The boys left to pretend to search for the doctor.
Vera carried on. ‘It’s false teeth what they get mixed up in hospitals, lad, not legs. Mind, they might lose false legs.’
A nurse came in with a sandwich on a plate. ‘Here you are, Mrs Corcoran.’
‘What the hell do you call that? It’s not enough to keep a budgie tweeting. Where’s our Tony? He can go and buy me fish and chips.’
The nurse raised her eyes heavenward. ‘Look, Mrs Corcoran, you’ve been in a coma and off solid food, so you can’t go from that to a fish dinner, because your stomach won’t take it.’
Vera glared at the young woman. ‘Listen, you,’ she began. ‘First, find me teeth. Second, get me out of this room and put me with other folk. I want me legs back, a cup of tea and a lawyer. He can sue yous lot for making me bald.’ She pondered for a few seconds. ‘Tell you what, I’ll stay in the ozzie till their father’s buried, cos I’d only show meself up spitting on his coffin.’ She nodded at her visitors. ‘You can go now,’ she told them. ‘Leave me to sort this dump out.’
When Harry and Alice had left, Vera fell back on her pillows and wept. Jimmy had been a grand-looking lad, with dark hair and dark eyes. He’d been good fun, a daredevil, an adventurer. ‘I should have listened to me mam,’ she told the nurse. ‘Jimmy’s dad was a drunk, and Mam said Jimmy would turn out the same, cos it runs in families. She was right. She was always bloody right. I didn’t want to cry in front of my boys.’
‘I know,’ the nurse said. ‘You act hard, but you’re not hard.’
Vera dried her eyes on the sheet. ‘Right, let’s you and me sort this hospital out, then. I want to be with people while I get better. Have you got any wigs? Will you find me teeth for me? And I think I might need to learn walking again.’
The boys returned doctorless. ‘Can’t find the doc,’ Neil announced.
‘No, you won’t need to learn walking. Your legs are weary, that’s all.’
The older woman grinned. ‘What’s your name, love?’
‘Irene. But they call me Nurse Shearer.’
‘My lads won’t be alcoholics, will they?’
‘No, I’m sure they won’t, Mrs Corcoran.’
‘Shearer, eh? Well, that suits you. Were you the one that sheared my hair off?’
‘Not guilty, Mrs Corcoran. That would have been done before you went into theatre, and I wasn’t on duty. I’ve looked after you most days since, though.’
Vera spoke to her boys. ‘Go and find Harry and Alice before all that scouse gets eaten. See you tomorrow. And you heard this young woman – she said you’re not going to be alcoholics.’
They left.
‘Well, thank you for looking after me, Nurse Shearer. I mean that.’ And she did.
Peter Atherton lit the gas ring under the stew. ‘Will you be coming to the table, Dan?’ he shouted. Peter knew that Dan was sulking; like children, people in his position sulked sometimes when they thought they weren’t the centre of attention.
‘Will there be room? She’s bringing her s-boyfriend and the Corcoran lads, isn’t she?’ Peter arrived in the bedroom doorway, and Dan lowered his tone. ‘I can have my hospital trolley across my hospital bed and stay out of everybody’s way in my own little s-private hospital.’ He rested against the wall and folded his arms, putting Peter in mind of fights down the bagwash when somebody took somebody’s soap or jumped the queue for the drying cabinets. ‘He’s like a bloody owld granny,’ Peter whispered to himself when Dan, after hobbling on crutches towards the kitchen, turned to go back for his book.
The orderly re-entered his patient’s daytime bedroom. The height of the bed made it easier to help Dan exercise his legs, though the man of the house now spent nights in the ordinary double bed with his missus. ‘What’s up now? Boyfriend? Which boyfriend? Give me your book.’
‘Him from next door.’ Dan handed over Oliver Twist.
The orderly shook his head. ‘Don’t talk manifold.’
‘Manifold?’
‘It’s part of a cow’s stomach. Some of the oldies back in the day filled the folds with vinegar and ate it raw.’
Dan blew out his cheeks. ‘Are you trying to s-put me off my scouse?’
‘No. If by boyfriend you mean Harry Thompson, I don’t think so.’
‘You must be s-blind, then.’
‘I’m not blind and there’s nothing going on.’
‘Well, I think there is. They can hardly look at each other. If their eyes do clash by accident, she goes all s-pink with getting embarrassed.’
Peter sighed and marched quickly to the door. ‘You know what Dr Bloom said about strokes – depression, anxiet
y, impatience and physical weakness. You’re making progress. We’re not hearing the letter s before every word – in fact, you hardly do it now. The therapist says you’re getting on great with your speech. That left leg’s easier to manage – and anyway, why would Alice go to all that trouble making a bedroom for the two of you downstairs? If she didn’t want anything to do with you, would she have bothered to change the house round? Would she hell as like. If you carry on like this, you’ll make yourself ill for no good reason. And you’ll lose her. Your jealousy will chase her off like a pack of hounds after a fox. You’re like a petulant child or a miserable old man.’
Dan blinked a few times and followed Peter into the kitchen. He sat down, rid himself of crutches and folded his arms. This had become a signal for Peter to disappear, and the man at the table closed his eyes and listened while footfalls slowed before stopping as they reached the business end of the kitchen. There would be glass bowls containing pickled beetroot and red cabbage, soda bread produced by an Irish baker, best butter, and glasses of Alice’s home-made lemon and honey drink. She would be back from the hospital soon.
He sighed. Because he’d been away so much, his wife had developed a level of independence which must have been necessary during his absences, but he was back now, and they were a partnership again, so why was she still distant? It wasn’t even what her family called otherness, since she seemed not to suffer many absences these days.
Frank trotted in and sat on a rug at the side of the table. ‘I know you’re there,’ Dan mumbled without opening his eyes. ‘She’ll be back soon, so don’t fret. I know you miss her. So do I, lad.’ He missed her most when she was near, when they lay in bed together like spoons so that he could love her without too much difficulty. He didn’t know how to improve matters and was hesitant when it came to discussing the problem, as Alice was . . . a bit old-fashioned, he supposed. To her, sex was sex, man on top, woman underneath. Anything else was a mistake or a sin or too experimental for her. She wanted their old life back, and that was probably an impossible dream.
Daughters of Penny Lane Page 11
