by Maureen Lee
‘Ernie, will you help me up, darling?’
‘Coming, luv.’ Ernie abandoned the Sporting Life he was studying, lifted Anna’s feather-light frame out of the chair, and set her on her feet. She swayed and he caught her just in time.
‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to carry me to the bathroom, Ernie. I feel desperately tired.’
‘You’re doing too much, luv,’ he said accusingly. ‘We went out two days in a row and you entertained Victoria all morning. You’re wearing yourself out.’
‘Victoria entertained me. She told me her life story, and such an interesting one too. She’s such a sensible, admirable young woman. She reminded me of myself when I was young.’
‘You were admirable, Anna, but I can’t remember you being exactly sensible.’
‘Fiddlesticks!’ she replied. ‘Did you know there used to be a removal and storage company on this site? The horses used to live where our bungalow is now.’
‘I know, luv,’ I heard.’ He carried her into the bathroom. ‘Do you want me to stay, or can you manage on your own?’
‘I’d sooner try and manage myself.’ She didn’t like him doing intimate things for her.
He waited outside the door, counting down from a hundred just to pass the time. The chain flushed. ‘You can come in now, darling,’ she shouted.
She was sitting on the toilet seat, her clothes adjusted. ‘I was just thinking, can we have a computer? Victoria made them sound awfully interesting. She said we could play games on it together.’
‘I’ll look into it,’ Ernie promised. He carried her back and sat her tenderly in her chair. ‘You just sit there quietly,’ he commanded in a no-nonsense voice. ‘No more visitors today. If anyone comes, I’ll tell them you’re not well.’
‘You’ll do no such thing, Ernie Burrows. People will stop coming if they think they’re disturbing me. Just fetch me a glass of wine and I’ll be fine.’
‘You can’t have wine. It interferes with your medication.’
‘Bring me some wine, Ernie, or I’ll scream the house down. And put a video on. Something nice and cheerful, a musical – Kiss me Kate, it’s one of my favourites. And stop looking so downhearted, it makes me feel downhearted too.’ She paused for breath. Her voice was becoming fainter and slightly slurred, but she wasn’t giving up. ‘Have a glass of whisky. Let’s get drunk, Ernie. We haven’t got long to go, either of us. Let’s make the best of things before it’s too late.’
He bent and kissed her full on the lips. He felt young again and the face he kissed was smooth and unlined. ‘Jaysus, Anna Kosztolanyi, whatever would I have done without you!’
‘I didn’t realize I’d spent that much,’ Debbie said that night when Gareth showed her the Goldfish statement. ‘Anyroad,’ she added indignantly, ‘what gave you the right to open my mail? It’s personal.’
‘If it’s personal, does that mean you’ll be paying this back out of your own pocket?’ He waved the statement at her.
‘I have been doing so far,’ she said haughtily.
‘Oh, yeah!’ he snorted. ‘Last month, you paid back twenty-five quid. It didn’t even cover the interest. Then you went and spent over seven hundred. At that rate, you’d never clear the debt in a million years.’
‘Then you can pay it for me.’ She pouted her lips in a way that Gareth normally found irresistible, but didn’t tonight.
‘In your dreams, Debbie,’ he said tightly. He flung the statement at her, slammed out of the house, and went to see Victoria Macara.
‘Hello,’ Victoria said brightly when she let him in. She looked very smart, in a navy blouse and white skirt. Her brown feet were bare, her toes short and stubby, the nails unpainted. The house was beginning to look rather empty without any ornaments or dishes on show. She said, ‘I’ve never had so many visitors in one day.’
Was that a hint? Did it mean she didn’t want any more? ‘I’ll go if you like,’ he offered. ‘I don’t want to be a nuisance.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Sit down immediately.’ She’d taken him into a living room that looked more like a museum and shoved him into an elderly, extremely comfortable armchair. ‘I’m dead pleased to see you,’ she said forcefully, and he realized she wasn’t capable of dropping hints and was genuinely glad he’d come. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘You look a bit down. Would you like some wine, by the way? I’ve just opened a bottle.’
‘I’d love a glass of wine and, yes, I do feel down – more than bit. Me wife’s become a shopaholic and I don’t know what to do.’ He’d told someone at last! He already felt better, having got it off his chest.
She curled up in an identical chair on the other side of the iron fireplace, tucking her feet underneath her. ‘Really?’
Gareth nodded. ‘She’s hooked, good and proper.’
‘Oh, dear.’ Victoria looked dismayed. ‘Can’t you stop her?’
‘Only if I lock her in a room and put bars on the windows so she can’t get out,’ he replied gloomily. ‘Nowadays, there’s nothing to stop people from having half a dozen credit cards and spending to the limit on every one. The entire country is in debt. It said so in the paper the other day.’
‘I’m not, but only because I got loads of money for the land. I had to use some of that to finish off the debts Granddad left years ago when he died. Gran and I had been trying to do it for years.’
‘I don’t know why,’ Gareth said with a sigh, ‘but that only makes me feel even more down. I’ve got nothing to sell. Apart from my wages, there’s no prospect of any money coming from anywhere.’ It could be ages before his footy site got off the ground.
‘Maybe your wife could get counselling. It seems to be all the rage these days,’ Victoria suggested helpfully.
‘Half an hour with Debbie and the counsellor would end up a shopaholic.’ He didn’t particularly like talking about Debbie in such a detrimental way to someone he hardly knew. But then Victoria didn’t feel like a stranger, more as if he’d known her all his life. Nevertheless, he was glad when she changed the subject.
‘I’ve got those footy books for you,’ she said, ‘the ones that belonged to Granddad. Don’t forget to take them when you go.’
‘Ta.’ They sat in comfortable silence for a while, sipping wine, the only sounds the loud ticking of a clock with a pearly face on the sideboard – his mum had one just the same that had belonged to his grandmother – and the faint cries of children playing in the square. ‘Are you selling this place or letting it?’ he asked. She must be doing one or the other or she wouldn’t be getting rid of so much stuff.
‘Letting it. An agency will see to it after I’ve gone. I didn’t want people wandering around while I was still here, pointing out the flaws.’ She gave the room a worried glance. ‘Although I’m not sure if people will want to live with such rackety old furniture.’
‘I think it’s charming.’ He wriggled further into the chair, feeling as if he could stay there for ever. ‘It’s like being in a time warp.’
‘That’s what Rachel Williams said the other day. It mightn’t look so bad, the furniture, once I’ve given it a good polishing. That’s next on my “things to do” list. Then I shall buy a few rugs to replace the rag ones that Gran made during the war and refused to be parted from. They’re probably full of germs and fleas and all sorts of other unmentionable things.’
‘If you don’t manage to do everything before you go, I’ll finish it off for you,’ Gareth offered.
‘I’ll remember that. It’s very kind of you.’
They looked at each other and smiled. Their glances held for a very long time and Gareth found himself wishing all sorts of things that, as a decent, married man, he knew he shouldn’t. He lowered his eyes at the same time as Victoria did and when he looked again she was blushing. He wondered if she’d been wishing the same things.
Patrick was still playing the guitar. He was practising for the barbecue on Saturday, singing under his breath at the same time. Downstairs, Liam and D
anny were watching a holiday programme on television.
Marie was sitting on her bed, the rosary beads lying idle in her red, hardworking hands. At some time during the day – it was when she’d told Sarah that she had three brothers and eight sisters – she’d been overcome by a feeling of nostalgia for the green fields of Donegal and the farm where she’d been born and raised.
None of her brothers and sisters knew where she was. As far as they were concerned, Marie and her lads had just vanished off the face of the earth, although she’d sent a note to her mother to say she was all right, just in case they started looking for her. They’d been so close, not exactly one big happy family, there’d been too many rows for that, but always knew that they could rely on one another if they were in trouble. She wondered if she’d ever see them again.
There was a knock on the bedroom door. It could only be Liam, the lads always barged straight in. ‘Come in,’ she called.
‘You’re being very quiet tonight, girl,’ Liam said. His slight frame, clad in jeans and a short-sleeved check shirt, looked larger in the cramped room: the lads slept in the biggest bedroom, Liam and Marie had a smaller one each. He came and sat on the bed beside her. He’d been out all day, as he was most days. Today it had been Blackpool. He was now a salesman for a company that made a special sort of security lock, which must be proving very popular as he was never short of money and gave her far more than she needed for the housekeeping.
‘I was just thinking.’ Marie was almost incapable of coherent thought with his knee touching hers, ever so slightly, sending a series of electric shocks through her body. She had a strong urge to make the Sign of the Cross, absolve herself of the carnal thoughts that she had whenever he was near. She lowered her head in case her eyes reflected how she felt.
‘Sad things, you’re thinking sad things. I can tell.’ He put a finger under her chin and tipped her face towards him. ‘I’ve been thinking too, why don’t we go to the pictures, you and me?’
‘Tonight?’ Her heart somersaulted in her chest.
‘Tonight,’ he said firmly. ‘There’s one of those multiplex cinemas in town – London Road. I brought the Liverpool Echo home with me. All the films are listed and you can take your pick.’
‘But what about Patrick and Danny?’
‘They’ll be quite safe on their own.’
‘Are you sure?’ she asked doubtfully. Although she knew her lads would be perfectly all right, she didn’t want Liam to think she could so easily be persuaded to leave them.
‘Sure I’m sure,’ he said easily. ‘Put your glad rags on, Marie. If we hurry, there might be time for a drink an’ all.’
He left, and Marie hurriedly made the Sign of the Cross and said three quick Hail Marys. But it didn’t change how she felt.
‘I see you decided to make yourself beautiful for your husband’s homecoming,’ Frank said sarcastically when he came in.
‘You’re early. I wasn’t expecting you yet.’ Rachel tore the rollers out of her hair. That morning, Kathleen had suggested she pamper herself.
‘Have a warm, scented bath when you get home,’ she had advised. ‘Have you got a face pack?’
When Rachel said that she hadn’t, Kathleen had given her one of her own. It smelled of peaches.
For almost an hour, she had lain in the bath with the face pack on, cotton wool pads on her eyes, letting in more hot water when it began to go cold. She had felt much better when she emerged and even better after she had rubbed some of Kirsty’s body lotion all over herself. Then she had put her lifeless, freshly washed hair in rollers.
Everyone would be surprised when they came home and found her looking half-decent for a change. But then Frank had arrived early and told her she looked a sight. ‘But not for sore eyes,’ he added contemptuously.
And now her hair was ruined, the damp curls having fallen flat against her scalp when she’d hastily removed the rollers and she could hear Frank in the dining room joking with the children, saying he’d nearly had a heart attack when he’d come in and found a monster in the kitchen, but it had turned out to be their mother.
‘Stop it, Dad,’ Kirsty had protested. ‘You’re being horrible.’
Rachel wanted to rush in and kiss her daughter, but it was a long time since she’d done anything like that.
‘Kathleen,’ Steve said when he was closing the curtains, ‘the plug’s come out of the phone. That’s why the damn thing wouldn’t work when I tried to use it earlier. Who pulled the curtains back this morning?’
‘I think it was me,’ Kathleen replied. ‘I must have done it then. I’m sorry.’ She bit her lip. It was awful, being deceitful, pretending it was an accident, when she’d quite deliberately pulled out the plug.
‘I actually used the Burrows’s phone to complain ours was out of order,’ Steve went on. He’d wanted to tell the security company his National Insurance number as he’d forgotten to take it with him to the interview. ‘We’ll have to be careful in future. It’s easy to dislodge it with your foot when you reach for the curtains.’
‘Did you want to use it now?’ she asked casually.
‘What?’
‘The phone.’
‘No.’ He picked up the receiver, listened, and put it back. Was he checking to see if there were any messages on voicemail or merely making sure it was working properly? He gave her a knowing look. ‘I can tell what you’re thinking,’ he said.
‘And I can tell what you’re thinking, at least some of the time.’
‘Most of the time I’m thinking about you. Occasionally, I think about Jean. I worry about her. Don’t you ever worry about Michael?’ His voice was as cold as his face and it scared her.
‘Of course I do. As you say, it’s only natural, but I haven’t telephoned to see how he is. I wouldn’t be prepared to go rushing back to Huddersfield if I discovered he was unhappy.’ She had to struggle to find the words. ‘I … I knew he would be unhappy if I left him. He loves me in his own way and I love him. Did you think you could just walk out on Jean and she would let you go without a murmur?’
‘I didn’t expect her to carry on the way she did,’ he muttered. ‘If I shut me eyes, I can still hear her crying.’
‘She refused to sleep with you for all those years. She had no right to make a scene because you’d found someone else.’
‘That’s what Jean’s like.’
‘If you knew what she was like, then you shouldn’t have left her,’ Kathleen said heatedly.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘And what would you have had to say about that?’
‘I would have been upset. No, more than upset, it would have broken my heart. But I’d rather that had happened than be haunted by the thought of you rushing back to stroke her brow whenever your conscience pricks.’
To her relief, he reached for her hand and pulled her on to his knee. ‘I love you,’ he said fervently. ‘I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in me life before. I can’t promise not to think about Jean any more than you can stop thinking about Michael, but from now on, there’ll only be you and me.’
‘Then do you mind if I change our phone number? I’d sooner you didn’t get any more calls from Brenda.’
‘All right, luv,’ he said after a pause that went on for far too long. ‘Whatever you want.’
She could sense the reluctance in his voice. She wouldn’t change the number. If he was all that worried about Jean, he could always ring one of his daughters from somewhere else – there was bound to be a telephone he could use in the place where he was going to work. Oh, how horrible it was that she didn’t trust him!
They went to bed early as usual. Used to getting up at the crack of dawn, Steve started to feel sleepy at around ten o’clock. They made love and it was as tender and passionate as ever, but a little, dark cloud was poised in the corner of Kathleen’s brain and she was unable to let herself go as wholeheartedly as she usually did.
After Steve had been asleep for over an hour and she still felt w
ide awake, she got up, went into the living room, picked up the phone and dialled a number. Michael answered. Like her, he rarely went to bed before midnight.
‘It’s me, Kathleen,’ she said.
‘Darling! Are you all right?’ He sounded concerned. ‘I didn’t expect to hear from you for a long time.’
‘I just wanted to hear a familiar voice. We’re still friends, Michael.’ How could she explain that to Steve? She’d deliberately downgraded her relationship with Michael, not wanting Steve to know how close they would always be. But they weren’t dependent on each other. Unlike Jean, Michael would never pretend to be ill or upset in order to get her back. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘How are you, Michael?’
‘Missing you, as you can imagine. I miss you not being here when I come home. I miss hearing your key in the door. I suppose I just miss your company, Kath.’
Kathleen recalled the young man she’d fallen in love with in her final year at university. They were both twenty-three. Slimly built, incredibly handsome, he’d worn old-fashioned grey flannels and an Airtex shirt, so different from the other students. His manners and bearing were old-fashioned too. He was the only one who hadn’t tried to get her to bed at the first opportunity.
‘Kath,’ he said gently, ‘what’s wrong?’
‘Nothing’s wrong, Michael. I just wanted to talk to you.’
‘You’ve hardly been gone a fortnight. It sounds to me as if there’s something badly wrong.’
‘OK, something’s wrong, but it’s not all that bad, I promise.’
‘If things get worse, you can always come home,’ he said warmly. ‘I know it was all very unsatisfactory, but it’s better than nothing.’
‘Thank you, Michael. I’m sorry if I disturbed you. Do you mind if I ring again?’
‘Any time, Kath.’
‘Bye.’ Kathleen sat on a chair nursing the phone. Perhaps she was making a mountain out of a molehill, but the fact that Steve could have seriously contemplated going to see Jean suggested otherwise.
Ernest Burrows was sitting at the table in the parlour studying Sporting Life and making notes in a spiralbound pad. Anna had fallen asleep in the chair. In a minute, he’d wake her with a cup of warm milk.
