by Maureen Lee
His car was an old Anglia, in only slightly better condition than her father’s van. The engine groaned in complaint when he switched it on and gave an anguished sigh when it was turned off outside the Brennans’ cottage. They’d hardly spoken to each other in the time between.
‘Thank you for the lift,’ Marie said. ‘Are you going back to the wedding now? Marguerite will be wondering where you are.’
‘Then Marguerite can go on wondering. I managed to escape once, I’m not going back to be captured again.’ He folded his arms, grinning. ‘I was hoping you’d ask me in for a cup of tea.’
‘Would you like to come in for a cup of tea, Mickey?’
He jumped out of the car with alacrity. ‘I would indeed, Marie. By the way, what’s happened to your freckles?’
Marie was rooting in her bag for the key. ‘They’re covered with make-up.’
Mickey put a finger under her chin and tipped her face towards his. ‘I prefer you with them,’ he said softly, kissing her cheek.
Maureen Lee’s award-winning novels have earned her many fans. Her recent novel, The Leaving of Liverpool, was a Sunday Times top 10 bestseller. Maureen was born in Bootle and now lives in Colchester. Find out more at: www.maureenlee.co.uk.
Have you read them all? Curl up with a
Maureen Lee
STEPPING STONES
Lizzie O’Brien escapes her dark Liverpool childhood when she runs away to London – towards freedom and a new life. But the past is catching up with her, threatening to destroy her dreams …
LIGHTS OUT LIVERPOOL
There’s a party on Pearl Street, but a shadow hangs over the festivities: Britain is on the brink of war. The community must face hardship and heartbreak with courage and humour.
PUT OUT THE FIRES
1940 – the cruellest year of war for Britain’s civilians. In Pearl Street, near Liverpool’s docks, families struggle to cope the best they can.
THROUGH THE STORM
War has taken a terrible toll on Pearl Street, and changed the lives of all who live there. The German bombers have left rubble in their wake and everyone pulls together to come to terms with the loss of loved ones.
LIVERPOOL ANNIE
Just as Annie Harrison settles down to marriage and motherhood, fate deals an unexpected blow. As she struggles to cope, a chance meeting leads to events she has no control over. Could this be Annie’s shot at happiness?
DANCING IN THE DARK
When Millie Cameron is asked to sort through her late aunt’s possessions, she finds buried among the photographs, letters and newspaper clippings, a shocking secret …
THE GIRL FROM BAREFOOT HOUSE
War tears Josie Flynn from all she knows. Life takes her to Barefoot House as the companion of an elderly woman, and to New York with a new love. But she’s soon back in Liverpool, and embarks upon an unlikely career …
LACEYS OF LIVERPOOL
Sisters-in-law Alice and Cora Lacey both give birth to boys on one chaotic night in 1940. But Cora’s jealousy and resentment prompt her to commit a terrible act with devastating consequences …
THE HOUSE BY PRINCES PARK
Ruby O’Hagan’s life is transformed when she’s asked to look after a large house. It becomes a refuge – not just for Ruby and her family, but for many others, as loves, triumphs, sorrows and friendships are played out.
LIME STREET BLUES
1960s’ Liverpool, and three families are linked by music. The girls form a successful group, only to split up soon after: Rita to find success as a singer; Marcia to become a mother; and Jeannie to deceive her husband, with far-reaching consequences …
QUEEN OF THE MERSEY
Queenie Todd is evacuated to a small town on the Welsh coast with two others when the war begins. At first, the girls have a wonderful time until something happens, so terrifying, that it will haunt them for the rest of their lives …
THE OLD HOUSE ON THE CORNER
Victoria lives in the old house on the corner. When the land is sold, she finds herself surrounded by new properties. Soon Victoria is drawn into the lives of her neighbours – their loves, lies and secrets.
THE SEPTEMBER GIRLS
Cara and Sybil are both born in the same house on one rainy September night. Years later, at the outbreak of war, they are thrown together when they enlist and are stationed in Malta. It’s a time of live-changing repercussions for them both …
KITTY AND HER SISTERS
Kitty McCarthy wants a life less ordinary – she doesn’t want to get married and raise children in Liverpool like her sisters. An impetuous decision and a chance meeting twenty years later are to have momentous repercussions that will stay with her for ever …
THE LEAVING OF LIVERPOOL
Escaping their abusive home in Ireland, sisters Mollie and Annemarie head to Liverpool – and a ship bound for New York. But fate deals a cruel blow and they are separated. Soon, World War II looms – with surprising consequences for the sisters.
MOTHER OF PEARL
Amy Curran was sent to prison for killing her husband. Twenty years later, she’s released and reunited with her daughter, Pearl. But Amy is hiding a terrible secret – a tragedy that could tear the family apart …
NOTHING LASTS FOREVER
Brodie Logan returns to Liverpool Bay, and lets out her spare rooms to women with nowhere else to go. Their lives intertwine and friendships develop but then tragedy strikes and the women find that nothing lasts forever …
The Old House on the Corner
MAUREEN LEE
AN ORION EBOOK
First published in Great Britain in 2004 by Orion Books.
This ebook first published in 2010 by Orion Books.
Copyright © Maureen Lee 2004
The right of Maureen Lee to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the copyright, designs and patents act 1988.
All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The right of Maureen Lee to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978 1 4091 3231 8
This ebook produced by Jouve, France
Orion Books
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For my friend, Margaret Sarsfield
Contents
Cover
Title
Copyright
Dedication
About the Author
Also by Maureen Lee
Map
Saturday
Chapter 1
Kathleen and Steve
Chapter 2
Sunday
Chapter 3
Sarah
Chapter 4
Monday
Chapter 5
Rachel
Chapter 6
Tuesday
Chapter 7
Anna and Ernie
Chapter 8
Wednesday
Chapter 9
Marie
Chapter 10
Thursday
Chapter 11
Judy Moon
Chapter 12
Friday
Chapter 13
Saturday
Chapter 14
Sunday
Chapter 15
Boxing Day 2001
Epilogue
Saturday
7 JULY 2001
Chapter 1
Victoria looked out of her bedroom window at the new estate where Macara Removals & Storage used to be. It was only a tiny estate, surrounded by a shiplap fence, and comprising just seven houses; two mock black-beamed Tudor detached with four bedrooms each, a pair of redbrick semis, and three small, double-fronted bungalows, neatly rendered and painted white, set around a communal, oval-shaped lawn with a freshly planted willow tree in the centre.
To her left, out of sight, there was a row of garages, one for each house. Victoria’s own house, more than a century older than its neighbours, was in a corner facing the road. The pretty garden was packed with sweet-smelling lavender, broom, and dazzling pink peonies, hidden behind a thick privet hedge. Golden ivy covered the walls and had curled itself around the chimneys.
At only half past six on a beautiful July morning – a Saturday – all the curtains were closed and there was no sign of life until two sparrows landed on the willow tree, madly fluttering their wings and making the lacy tendrils shiver delicately.
She had wondered how the builders would persuade people to buy properties crammed so closely together: no front gardens unless you counted the narrow strip of grass barely two feet wide, and not much behind either, but the new development had been christened Victoria Square, giving it a posh, exclusive sort of air, and all had been sold long before the building work was finished. Six were occupied – one bungalow was empty and waiting for the new owners to move in. Three even had names; the detached ones were called Hamilton Lodge and Three Farthings, and one of the bungalows was Clematis Cottage – the tiny green shoots in tubs each side of the front door might well be baby clematis, Victoria couldn’t tell from this distance. The remaining four properties were, so far, unnamed and making do with numbers.
There were some faded photographs in the loft, a century old, showing the land when it had been like a miniature park, full of trees and shrubs and winding paths and even a statue or two. This was before her great-granddad, Fraser Macara, had started a removal business and covered it with tons of concrete, leaving his wife only a fraction of her lovely garden.
First, there’d been just four horses and two carts, but the firm had quickly expanded until the horses and carts had trebled and the animals were accommodated in a row of ramshackle stables. Not long after the First World War, the company had been equipped with lorries – there were photos in the loft of these too; boxy, top-heavy vehicles parked at an angle in a neat row of eight about a metre apart, the drivers wearing coat overalls and bowler hats and standing to attention beside their cabs. It was Macara Removals’ boast that they were the first company of its kind in Liverpool to convert to mechanized transport. The stalls had been removed from the stables, furniture instead of horses had been kept in the run-down building, and the words ‘& Storage’ added to the company name.
‘What would you say if you could see the place now, Gran?’ Victoria mused aloud. ‘We should have done this ages ago. Think of all the money we would have had!’
Things had been tough since Granddad had died leaving behind loads of debts that Gran had been determined to settle. Granddad hadn’t had his father’s flair for business. The company had been a burden he’d found too heavy to bear and had been going steadily downhill for years.
Something was happening in the square. Three Farthings’ front door had opened and a woman emerged, clutching what looked like several envelopes. Victoria had become friends with the developer and knew most people’s names. The woman was Mrs Williams, her husband was a motorcar salesman, and they’d just moved from a place called Lydiate on the outskirts of Liverpool. They had two children, a boy about twenty and a girl a bit younger.
Mrs Williams went next door to Hamilton Lodge and put an envelope through the letterbox. She did the same to the other five houses. ‘I wonder if the Williams are throwing a party or something, Gran.’ Victoria still talked to her grandmother, even though she’d been dead for more than two years. ‘Oh! If it’s a party, she must be inviting me?’ Instead of returning home, Mrs Williams had left the square and, a few minutes later, the letterbox at the front gave its rather rusty clatter.
Victoria shot downstairs, still in her nightie, and opened the door just as Mrs Williams was walking away, having deposited a postcard on the tatty doormat. ‘Hi!’ Victoria beamed.
The woman nearly jumped out of her skin. ‘Good morning, Miss Macara. I hope I didn’t disturb you.’
‘No. I’ve been awake for ages. Me Gran was an early riser and I don’t think I’ll ever get used to sleeping in.’ She picked up the postcard. ‘A barbecue! Thanks, I’d love to come. Would you like a coffee? I was just about to make some. Or tea, if you’d prefer.’
Mrs Williams’s face creased into a worried frown, as if she’d been asked to solve a major world crisis. ‘I really should be getting home.’ Then her expression cleared. ‘Oh, it’ll be ages before the others wake up. Coffee would be nice, thank you. I’m glad you can come to the barbecue – bring a friend if you want. You’re my first acceptance. I thought it was about time we all got to know each other.’ She sniffed, rather pathetically. ‘Kirsty, she’s my daughter, is all for it, but my husband thinks I’m a terrible busybody and my son, James, is inclined to agree.’
‘You’re nothing of the sort.’ Victoria led her visitor into the kitchen, flooded with sunlight. ‘I think it’s a brilliant idea, except I won’t have much time to get to know people. I’m off to America a week tomorrow. Sit down and I’ll put the kettle on.’
‘Oh, I say! What a lovely big room. It’s like being in a time warp.’ She immediately looked flustered. ‘I hope you didn’t mind my saying that. Some people might regard it as offensive. What I meant was …’ She ran her hand through her short, untidy hair. ‘What I meant was …’ She paused again, unable to find the words.
‘I know exactly what you meant,’ Victoria said soothingly. ‘It is in a time warp. Gran didn’t approve of change unless she saw a reason for it. She liked the kitchen the way it is, with a nice deep sink and wooden draining boards. The gas cooker’s ancient, but she wouldn’t be parted from it, although she bought a fridge, and there’s an automatic washing machine and a spin dryer in the outhouse and a great big telly in the parlour – the parlour’s even more old-fashioned than the kitchen. Me, I don’t care what the place looks like as long as it’s cheerful. Mind you, once Gran died, I bought meself an electric kettle and a microwave.’ She filled the kettle and switched it on. ‘Sit down, Mrs Williams,’ she said, nudging a chair when she became aware the woman was still standing in the middle of the room, looking lost.
‘Call me Rachel.’ She sat on a creaky pine chair and leaned her elbows on the creaky pine table. ‘It’s got loads of character,’ she whispered, glancing admiringly at the yellow and white gingham curtains that Gran had made, the grey slate floor, the pine dresser that took up half the wall and was filled with crockery that didn’t match, most of which had been there since before Victoria was born. The window sill was full of pot plants.
‘I’m Victoria or Vicky, I don’t mind which.’
‘I’ll call you Victoria. It’s such a pretty name. Is the square called after you?’
‘Yes.’ There wasn’t much that could make Victoria blush, but she blushed now. She was a tough young woman, unfashionably sturdy, with beautiful skin, thick
black curly hair and fearless brown eyes that regarded the world with an unflinching stare. ‘The developer didn’t tell me until everything had been settled, the name approved by the council, that sort of thing. He thought I’d be flattered, but it makes me feel uncomfortable, like having a statue erected in my honour.’
‘I’d be embarrassed too.’ Rachel Williams seemed the sort of person who would be embarrassed easily. Her eyes were pale and nervous and looked as if they were used to tears. She gestured all the time with her hands, as if she hadn’t enough confidence in the words themselves, or her voice, to convey what she meant. A sad cotton dress, badly in need of ironing, strained against her stout figure and there were spaces between the buttons down the front. Her large feet were encased in mannish leather sandals. ‘Have you got a job in America?’
‘In New York, yes. I’m really looking forward to it.’
‘I bet you are. I’ve only been abroad a few times, mainly to Cyprus where my brother lived. It must be nice to be young, have the world at your feet sort of thing.’ She looked at Victoria enviously. ‘I’ve never done anything exciting with my life.’
