Megan of Merseyside

by Rosie Harris

  She cringed inwardly. She had been so completely hoodwinked by his promise of marriage. She had trusted him implicitly, honouring her side of the bargain, telling no one, not even her parents.

  Their interlude in Wales had been the ultimate triumph for Miles. It had proved his power over her, she thought bitterly. She had held out for so long, resisting his pleas that they should make love, ignoring his jests about her prudishness and his jeers when she still steadfastly refused to give in to his demands. It made her even more embittered that she had fallen for the oldest trick of all: an empty promise of marriage.

  Tears stung as she relived the events of the bittersweet time they had spent together at Tynmorfa. The tender, whispered pledges, and the passion of their love-making. She had been so convinced that he felt the same way about her as she did about him.

  No matter how she looked at it, Miles had behaved despicably, leading her on, winning her trust, while all the time he was planning to marry Carol Brocklehurst.

  She slid her hands down underneath the crisp white sheets, gaining comfort from the feel of the flat outline of her barren stomach. She closed her eyes. Although there was nothing in the room to distract her thoughts, she wanted to shut out the world, to concentrate on what measures she must take if she was to start afresh.

  She didn’t intend to leave Walker’s. To disappear would be making things far too easy for Miles. She wanted revenge and as long as she was working at Walker’s the knowledge that he had made her pregnant would haunt him. It would be sweet vengeance! Even when he realised she’d had an abortion he would still worry in case she said anything to jeopardise his plans to marry Carol Brocklehurst.

  Revenge, punishment, atonement: such thoughts were so alien to her that for a moment Megan wondered if she was still under the influence of the anaesthetic.

  But so too were deception, lying, and subterfuge – and she had resorted to all of these, she reminded herself. Even over this weekend! Her mother’s words when she had said she was going to Beddgelert rang in her ears.

  ‘You must be mad! If that’s really where you’re going, of course, and not off seeing that Miles Walker.’

  Although she’d emphatically denied the accusation, when she’d been saying goodbye as she left home, she knew that her mother was still suspicious.

  She was grateful that her father neither cross-questioned her or tried to dissuade her from going. ‘If you break down or have any problems, mind you phone home, cariad,’ he counselled as he waved her off.

  Problems! She wondered what he would do if she rang him now and said where she was, why she was there and what had just happened.

  That was another difficulty. Her father would want to know why she was leaving and she didn’t want to add to his worries.

  She often wondered how he coped with her mother’s vacillating moods. She seemed to alternate between long brooding silences and onslaughts of bitter accusations. There were times when she blamed him for Lynn’s death because he had brought them back to Merseyside to live.

  He bore these tirades with commendable fortitude, but Megan knew he took them to heart. He had grown quieter. His face was drawn and there was a myriad of tiny lines around his dark eyes that hadn’t been there a year ago. At one time his great interest had been football but now he rarely went to a Saturday match.

  The change in him was nothing compared with the alteration in her mother, of course. She was a totally different person from when they lived in Beddgelert. Her happy, sunny nature seemed to have gone for ever. The vacant, lost look that had been in her eyes when she’d sat week after week at Lynn’s bedside had been replaced by a hard, cold stare.

  She was distrustful of everyone and Megan often felt saddened by her attitude. More than once she’d been tempted to leave home, but couldn’t bring herself to let her father cope alone.

  But what of the future … her future?

  Megan moved uneasily in the bed. Her aching body was a sharp reminder that her days of innocence were over. From now on she intended to guard against heartbreak. She would not allow herself to fall in love ever again.

  Before she drifted into sleep she thought of Robert. She knew she owed him a lot and was grateful. Without his help she would never have had this second chance. Perhaps she should have married him when he had asked her, she thought wryly. He would make a wonderful husband. He was so sincere and dependable; so conventional and considerate. She would have been cherished and protected for the rest of her life. Even though she didn’t love him, they were the best of friends and she enjoyed his company.

  Poor Robert. He, too, was one of life’s victims. His family had owned a dairy and it had been taken for granted that when he left school he would go into the business. He’d found delivering milk unexciting. The sight of the huge liners sailing down the Mersey, bound for unknown destinations, made him restless. He longed to travel, but his parents were opposed to the idea so he took matters into his own hands and ran away to sea.

  ‘I knew if I tried to discuss it with them they would try to talk me out of it so I just packed my bags and left a note to say I’d gone. I picked a boat bound for South America, one that would take me halfway round the world, so that I couldn’t change my mind if I felt homesick. We must have been somewhere in mid-Atlantic when my father died from a sudden heart attack. It was months before the news caught up with me and still longer before I could get back to Liverpool.’

  His face had hardened at the memory and he was silent for so long that she’d had to prompt him to go on.

  ‘My mother was devastated,’ he told her. ‘She couldn’t run the dairy business single-handed and by the time I got back she’d acted on her solicitor’s advice and sold up and moved to a house in New Brighton.

  ‘I didn’t go back to sea again. She never fully recovered from my father’s death so I couldn’t leave her on her own. It was a pity about the business but I was never really interested in it.’

  ‘And that was when you went to work at Walker’s,’ prompted Megan.

  ‘That was a stop gap, a bit like treading water. It gave me independence yet kept me at my mother’s side. We could look after each other. When she died, shortly before you came to Merseyside, I fully intended going back to sea.’

  ‘So why didn’t you?’

  ‘Various reasons,’ Robert said with a wry smile.

  When she left the nursing home next day, Megan still felt weak and slightly unsteady on her feet. The effort of walking to her car left her in a cold sweat.

  She sat behind the wheel for ten minutes, waiting for her heart to stop thumping and her head to stop spinning, before she turned on the ignition. She wished she had agreed to Robert’s suggestion that he should collect her.

  ‘You look absolutely washed out,’ her mother commented when she arrived home. ‘I knew that journey was going to be too much for you!’

  ‘Give me your keys and I’ll get your case and garage the car,’ her father offered.

  ‘Did you have trouble with the car?’ he asked as he came back into the house.

  ‘No, it went fine. Why?’

  ‘All the way to Beddgelert and back?’

  Something in his voice made her look up. There was disbelief in his eyes and she looked away quickly, a guilty flush staining her cheeks. He didn’t press the point, but his face tightened as he went out of the room.

  A chill chased down her spine as she tried to work out why he suspected she was lying. He couldn’t know where she had been. No one did … except Robert, and he wouldn’t betray her. He had done everything possible to help keep her secret. He had not only booked her in under a false name, but had even taken the precaution of paying in advance, in cash.

  Her mother might have voiced suspicions that she was going away with Miles Walker, but surely her father wouldn’t take any notice? Not now that Miles’ engagement to Carol Brocklehurst had been made public.

  She longed to tell them the truth, but that would implicate Robert as well as denigrat
e her still further in her mother’s eyes.

  A bewildering profusion of doubts tormented her. In the end she could stand it no longer and said that as her head still ached she would have an early night.

  Her entire body felt bruised and sore as she undressed and crawled into bed. Sleep eluded her.

  Next morning, while she was driving to work, she suddenly realised why her father had asked if she’d had trouble with her car. His words as he’d waved her goodbye echoed in her ears. ‘I’ve checked the oil and filled her up. There’s enough petrol in the tank to take you to Beddgelert and back.’

  When he’d put the car away he had obviously checked them both again, she thought grimly. It was second nature for him to do so; it was something he did automatically every time he took a lorry out on the road. Not only was the tank still almost full but the reading on the milometer showed less than thirty miles difference. Beddgelert and back was almost two hundred miles.

  It was too late now to try to explain, she thought miserably. He knew she’d been lying. It was one more secret to be buried in her past! She seemed to be digging herself deeper and deeper into the morass, she thought unhappily.

  By the time she reached the office she felt far from well and hoped she would have the will-power to cope not only with the day’s work, but everything else that lay ahead. Being strong and resolute about the way she would treat Miles had been easy when she’d been half doped by anaesthetic.

  Before going into the office she checked her appearance and frowned at her reflection. Dark circles made her brown eyes look too big for her face. The peach blouse she was wearing drained every vestige of colour from her cheeks.

  She applied some more lipstick, but that seemed only to accentuate her pallor. She wished she had some rouge but it was something she never used. She ran her finger over the top of the lipstick and blended it onto her cheeks, then frowned at the result. It made her look more washed out than ever.

  Megan hurried through the general office with a brisk, bright greeting. Myra and Mavis were talking to Olive, all three bunched together at the reception desk. Mavis tried to attract her attention, but she didn’t stop, she was in no mood for gossip.

  In the sanctuary of her own office, she sat at her desk wondering how she was going to cope for the rest of the day, she felt so fragile. I should have said I had the flu and taken the day off, she thought exhaustedly as she picked up the white envelope that was propped prominently against her typewriter and opened it.

  Inside was a deckle-edged invitation card. The silver-embossed words danced crazily in front of her eyes. She read them several times before they fully registered. Then, tight-lipped, her cheeks flaming, she slipped the card back into its envelope. That was one wedding she wouldn’t be attending, she decided grimly.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  THE ENTIRE STAFF had been invited to Miles’ wedding and Megan listened in aloof silence as the other girls in the office chattered excitedly about the forthcoming event. As they discussed in minute detail the outfits they were planning to wear she felt almost at screaming pitch.

  The office was to be closed for the day so she was kept busy rearranging deliveries or postponing them so that the staff who worked at the docks would also be able to take the day off.

  ‘We’re organising a collection to buy a wedding present for Miles. Do you want to chip in, Megan?’ challenged Olive.

  ‘Of course,’ Megan told her, reaching into her handbag for her purse.

  ‘You don’t have to … not if you’re buying him something special on your own,’ Mavis told her pertly.

  ‘I’ll give the same as the rest of you,’ Megan stated coolly. Inwardly she felt in turmoil, but she was determined to face the situation as dispassionately as possible.

  After the way Miles had treated her she ought to be able to dismiss him from her thoughts completely, yet, no matter how hard she tried, she found that was impossible. Memories, fragmented moments of emotion, struck like lightning flashes leaving her vulnerable. He even invaded her dreams. She would waken from her nightmare with sweat rivering down her body and feeling as weak as if she’d endured some terrible illness. She wanted to run away, to hide in some dark, isolated corner where she could give way to her tears in private and no one would sympathise or criticise.

  Each day was traumatic. Having to talk to Miles in the office, knowing that others were within earshot and could hear every word she uttered, made her tongue-tied. It sent her brain spinning so that she was bedevilled by a sense of her own inadequacy and weakness. The deepening despair she felt deadened all her faculties so that she was under a constant strain.

  Even worse was when Mavis or Olive were actually in the room. Then she was conscious that they were watching Miles and her, registering the unspoken conflict between them. And she knew that afterwards they would discuss every syllable and every look that passed between them, and either pity her or laugh about her being another of his conquests.

  Megan found the situation at home equally trying. There were interminable arguments between her parents as her father tried to persuade Kathy to overcome her resentment and accept the invitation to Miles Walker’s wedding.

  ‘Mr Walker is bound to notice if we’re not there,’ he said worriedly.

  ‘Then you go. No one is stopping you,’ snapped Kathy, her lips a tight, uncompromising line.

  ‘You’ve been invited as well!’

  ‘No one is going to worry whether I’m there or not,’ commented Kathy acidly.

  ‘They will. If you stay away the Walkers might take it as a personal slight.’

  ‘Good! That’s exactly what I intend it to be,’ she told him with grim satisfaction.

  ‘But we ought to go,’ pleaded Watkin, running his hand through his hair, a look of distress darkening his face.

  ‘Then go!’

  ‘I want you with me, cariad. Come on, let’s try and put the past behind us. Go out and buy a new hat, or a whole outfit, if you like. Megan will go with you.’

  ‘Dress up and let them think we’ve forgiven their son for killing our daughter?’ retorted Kathy scathingly.

  Watkin shook his head sadly. ‘Will I never get through to you, woman, that it was an accident!’

  ‘He killed her!’ Her eyes blazed angrily, colour stained her sagging cheeks.

  ‘The roads were wet, the scooter skidded,’ Watkin explained patiently.

  Kathy stood up, walked over to the window and stood there staring out unseeingly.

  ‘If we don’t attend the wedding when we’ve been invited then my job could be on the line!’

  ‘What’s so special about being a lorry driver?’

  ‘If I’m sacked, it mightn’t be easy to find another job, the way things are at the moment.’

  ‘Rubbish! I don’t know why both you and Megan didn’t leave Walker’s right after our Lynn was killed. I don’t know how you can bear to take that man’s money.’

  ‘Kathy, it was an accident,’ repeated Watkin, wearily. He walked over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. Gently he planted a kiss on her brow. She made no response but remained staring out of the window as though in a trance.

  If only Kathy would accept the truth, he thought sadly. His heart ached for the way she was suffering but they couldn’t bring Lynn back.

  He tried asking Megan if she would talk to her mother and see if she could persuade her to change her mind, but Megan refused to intervene.

  ‘Why don’t you leave well alone,’ she advised. ‘Mam might seize the opportunity to speak to either Mr or Mrs Walker and cause an unpleasant scene.’

  ‘Don’t talk daft, girl,’ he said angrily. Yet he knew there was a possibility of that happening, knowing Kathy’s hatred towards Miles. If Miles had shot Lynn at point blank range she couldn’t have thought him more responsible for her death.

  ‘I’m not going and that’s that,’ Kathy declared the night before the wedding. ‘You may work for the Walkers, but they don’t own us.’


  ‘I want us to be there,’ he insisted. ‘We’ve been given time off specifically so that we can attend the wedding.’

  ‘Then go!’ Kathy Williams screamed, her face distorted with rage. ‘If you do don’t come looking for me afterwards because I’ll have gone to join our Lynn.’

  Hands over her ears, Megan walked away from the argument. She understood why her father thought they ought to attend the wedding, but she knew only too well that it was impossible to reason with her mother when she was in one of these moods.

  ‘I’ve no time for Walker or his son,’ Watkin said bitterly as he followed Megan out of the room. ‘I’d like to see them both in hell for what they’ve done to my family. I don’t intend giving them the satisfaction of knowing that, mind you. Even if I can’t persuade your mam to go to the wedding, then I’ll have to stay with her, but I still want you to be there,’ he told Megan curtly. ‘I know what that bastard meant to you … and I’ve a pretty good idea what you’ve been through and what was going on when you went away for the weekend recently.’

  The knowing look in his dark eyes sent a shiver through her and an embarrassed flush stained her cheeks.

  ‘No, Robert didn’t tell me,’ he said before she could question him. ‘I worked it out for myself. We’ll say no more about it but someday this family will get even with the Walkers, I’ll promise you that.’

  Megan bit down on her lower lip, too moved to speak.

  ‘Go to the wedding, Megan,’ he urged. ‘Get all dressed up, girl. Do our family proud. Show that bugger Miles that you are not heartbroken on his account.’

  She wanted to refuse, to dismiss the idea as ludicrous, but she realised how much it meant to her father.

  ‘All right.’

  She looked away quickly, disturbed by the gleam of satisfaction that flooded his face.

  Her feelings for Miles remained like a raging torrent inside her head. Attending Miles’ wedding would be the ultimate peak of endurance. To see him standing at the altar rails waiting for his bride; to endure the solemnity of the service; to watch as he and Carol Brocklehurst walked back up the aisle, arm in arm, legally man and wife, called for a strength she wasn’t sure she possessed.