Megan of Merseyside

by Rosie Harris

  ‘I’ve promised to take me Judy out tonight,’ Sandy groaned when Megan allocated the job to him. ‘Do you think Jock would do the run instead of me?’

  ‘You’d better ask him.’ She looked across at Jock quizzically, although she knew full well that he would jump at the chance. She also suspected that Sandy had dreamed up the excuse so that Jock could have the work.

  ‘Will things ever get back to normal?’ she said with a sigh when Robert called into her office later that morning.

  ‘At the moment they’re getting worse. There’s another crisis looming, this time over Sterling,’ he told her gloomily.

  She walked over to the door and stood there staring out. It was a hot, sultry July day and the tiny office was like an oven.

  ‘Why don’t you take advantage of the fact that trade is slow and take a break from it all?’ suggested Robert, his gaze taking in the weariness etched on Megan’s face and the lassitude of her manner.

  ‘I can’t afford to,’ Megan told him with a pathetic shrug. ‘You can bet your life if I closed the office, even for a few days, we’d miss out on some important orders,’ she added in a strained, querulous voice.

  ‘You don’t have to close it. Things are pretty slack at the moment, you said so yourself, so why not let your father run things here while you have a holiday before you have a breakdown?’ he went on, pressing home his advantage.

  The silent motion of her head showed her acceptance of his suggestion.

  ‘Let’s both have a week off. I never did get my walking holiday in Wales,’ he added cautiously. ‘I quite fancy the idea of taking it right now, while the hot weather holds, so why don’t you come along with me, Megan?’

  For a moment he was sure she was going to refuse. He held his breath as she walked back to her desk and flicked through the booking diary.

  ‘Nothing … we haven’t a single booking for the next two weeks!’ She walked over to the movement chart pinned up on the wall. ‘Blanks … nothing but blanks.’

  ‘So it’s the right time to take a holiday,’ urged Robert. ‘Your father will be here. It would be a boost for his ego to know you trusted him enough to leave him in charge.’

  Chapter Thirty-six

  AS THEY SET out for Wales, Megan’s mind was full of the problems she was leaving behind. She wasn’t at all confident that her father could cope with running the office while she was away and look after her mother at the same time.

  Perhaps they should have been the ones to be going on holiday, not me, she thought guiltily, knowing how depressed her mother was. If only she would go out more, or even invite some of the neighbours in now and again for a cup of tea, I’m sure she’d be a lot happier, Megan mused.

  She was at a loss to understand how her mother did spend her day. Often when she got home at night the breakfast dishes would still be on the draining board and the beds unmade. Sometimes there was food in the house, sometimes not.

  Her mother had no set routine for any of the household chores, and Megan found a great deal of her own time taken up at weekends with the washing, ironing and general cleaning.

  Remembering how organised things had been when Vi Brown had been helping out, both she and her father had suggested several times that they should get someone in to do the housework, but her mother refused even to consider the idea.

  Robert concentrated on the road ahead. He had been more than delighted that Megan had agreed to come away on holiday, but he was afraid to attach too much importance on what it meant in regard to their relationship.

  Everything had been done on the spur of the moment. There had been no time to talk things through. He had simply checked over his car and packed some clothes, anxious to make a start before Megan could change her mind.

  They would only be away for five days since Megan had insisted that they must be back home by the weekend so that she could pay the drivers herself. He hadn’t argued. Five days on their own was more than he had hoped for and could provide the opportunity he needed.

  He found the uncertainty of not knowing whether Megan cared for him or not unbearable and was determined before the holiday was over to settle the question once and for all. If there was absolutely no hope of her ever marrying him, it might be best if he went back to sea and tried to forget all that she meant to him.

  As they crossed into Wales at Queensferry, Megan closed her eyes in an attempt to ignore the surrounding countryside and its past associations with the Walkers. It was some time before she realised that Robert had taken a different route, one that took them south through Ruthin to join the A5.

  The sheer relief of discovering they wouldn’t be going anywhere near Mostyn or Holywell helped her to unwind. By the time they stopped for lunch at Betws-y-Coed, her face had lost its tense, strained look and she had started to enjoy herself.

  The picturesque little town nestling among tree-clad hills was packed with holiday-makers. They thronged the cafés and browsed in the countless gift shops that lined the main street, giving the place a carnival atmosphere.

  ‘Perhaps we should drive on and see if we can find a pub on the outskirts of the town,’ Robert suggested.

  ‘It’s one o’clock, we must eat soon, I’m starving,’ Megan protested. ‘Anyway,’ she said with a smile, ‘I like it here.’

  ‘It’s a pretty spot, I’ll grant you that,’ Robert agreed.

  They lunched rather splendidly at the Gwyndyr Hotel. ‘Shall we have a walk round before we get back into the car?’ suggested Robert when they were finally ready to leave. ‘I haven’t eaten such a big meal at midday for years.’

  As they emerged once more into the main street, the July sun was beating down, enveloping them in a shower of golden warmth as they strolled along, replete and content.

  ‘The name of this bridge is Pont-y-Pair which means “the bridge of the Cauldron”,’ Megan told him as they paused entranced by the miniature cataract that formed as water fell onto the jagged rocks on the river bed.

  ‘The local beauty spot, is it?’

  ‘One of them. Swallow Falls is much more impressive. Do you want to go there? We could walk, it’s only about two miles.’

  ‘In this heat!’ Robert’s eyebrows went up in mock alarm.

  ‘No, you’re probably right,’ she agreed with a laugh. ‘We’re not all that far from Beddgelert so shall we drive on then and stay there overnight?’

  Megan was on familiar ground now and her pleasure and excitement increased. To her, the sky was more blue, the grass greener, the air more sweet.

  When they reached Beddgelert, she insisted that they should sit for a while on the old stone bridge that spanned the river while she pointed out landmarks she remembered so well.

  ‘Separate rooms or are we sharing?’ Robert questioned when they finally decided it was time they arranged some accommodation.

  ‘Robert, I’m surprised you should even ask such a question!’

  The annoyance in her voice startled him and he silently cursed himself for his flippancy.

  The moment she had made her cutting response, Megan regretted doing so. Why on earth hadn’t she treated it as a joke instead of taking offence and snapping his head off? she thought guiltily. Her mother was right, she did treat Robert badly. No one could have been a more devoted friend. While she had been building up the business he had almost become her alter ego; someone she depended on for advice, and who could be relied on to boost her morale when things seemed to be going wrong.

  Yet he had never once tried to usurp her authority, or claim any of the glory when things turned out well. He had backed her all the way, solid and reliable; a shoulder to lean on, the force behind her every move.

  He was so resourceful that she wondered why he had never started his own business instead of using his talents to promote hers.

  When she introduced Robert to Jennie Jones and Gwyneth Evans and saw the admiration in their eyes, her face flushed with pride. She studied Robert’s strong, serious profile, seeing him as other peo
ple must do. Mid-thirties, good-looking with a strong square jaw and firm mouth, clear-eyed and powerfully built: she felt proud he was her friend.

  She found herself remembering back to when she’d first arrived on Merseyside, and the way Robert had consistently brought her small gifts. He’d never failed to buy her lavish presents at Christmas and on her birthday, and countless times he had taken her out for a meal or dancing. She even found herself contemplating how different her life might have been had she married him.

  That evening, as they lingered over their meal, talking about the day’s happenings, Megan was suddenly aware of his physical presence. When their hands touched as Robert passed her another glass of wine she pulled back quickly, aware of a tingling sense of excitement. It unsettled her.

  After his silly joke, Robert had decided to play it cool and keep his distance. For all that he was enjoying her company and he too felt acutely aware of their physical proximity. The opportunity to have her complete attention without her parents, one of the drivers, or the shrill of the telephone bell interrupting them was a bonus in itself.

  For the entire five days of their holiday the weather was superbly warm and sunny and they explored the surrounding countryside as avidly as any tourists.

  Robert had visited Wales many times before on walking holidays. He had enjoyed the challenge of the mountains, felt awed by their grandeur, but Megan knew all the mountains by name, as if they were old friends. He found her fierce proprietorial pride the day they climbed Moel Hebog very touching.

  She took him to all her other favourite haunts and even right to the mist-clad top of Snowdon, where cotton wool clouds swirled all around them. They explored half-hidden cwms, sat beside tranquil blue lakes, sunbathed on the sandy shores at Porthmadog, and visited the centuries old castles at Harlech, Conway and Caernarvon.

  Meeting her childhood friends, especially Ifan Jenkins, he could see why she had been attracted to Miles Walker. They were such complete opposites. Ifan was slow and shy; a gentle, easy-going giant, diffident of manner and purpose. In contrast, Miles must have seemed a sophisticated man-of-the-world with his glib tongue and devil-may-care manner.

  Learning about Megan’s upbringing helped Robert to understand her better. He liked Jennie and Gwyneth well enough, but Megan had outgrown them in the intervening years. Their naive outlook on life reminded him of Megan when he had first known her. Yet he was sure that if either of them had been suddenly dropped into the heart of Liverpool, or any other big city, they wouldn’t have coped nearly as well as Megan had done.

  The first time Megan kissed him goodnight of her own volition he was tempted to crush her to him, but ingrained caution held him back although his healthy physical craving, submerged for so long, ached to assert itself.

  Later, alone in his room, at the other side of the hotel to hers, with only two days of their holiday left, he wished he’d taken advantage of such an opportunity to declare his love and ask her to marry him.

  There’s no need to rush things. This holiday is just the cornerstone for what’s to follow, he told himself. From now on their relationship would be on a new footing; they were closer than they’d ever been.

  ‘Have you enjoyed our holiday?’ Robert asked as they sat in the Saracen’s Head having a drink on their last evening. His hand went out and covered hers and his blue eyes took on a smoky look as he tried to control the passion building inside him.

  ‘It’s been wonderful!’

  Their lips met in a light soft encounter that became a deep passionate kiss. He felt her stiffen in his arms. Then with a barely audible sigh she freed herself from his embrace and moved away.

  ‘There’s such a magical quality about this place I feel bewitched by it,’ she said unsteadily. ‘It’s hard to believe that by this time tomorrow we’ll be in the normal world again and back in Liverpool with a thousand and one problems demanding our attention.’

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  ‘YOUR MOTHER IS drinking again!’ Her father’s greeting the moment she walked in the door brought Megan back to reality with a jolt.

  ‘Are you sure? I made quite certain there was no alcohol in the house before I left, not even any cider or cooking sherry.’

  ‘Then she’s obviously been out and bought some.’

  ‘You found it?’

  ‘Yes. Vodka this time! It was hidden in the back of her wardrobe. She’d been moody for a couple of days and I thought she was missing you. Then, on Thursday, I found her asleep in the armchair when I came home. When I tried to waken her, I realised she was out cold. Until then I hadn’t suspected anything.’

  ‘With vodka there’s no tell-tale smell.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’ He shook his head wearily. ‘Do you think we should get her back into a clinic?’

  ‘Must we?’ A shiver went through Megan at the memory of the trauma there had been last time. ‘Couldn’t we give it a week or two and see how she goes on? It might have been because she felt lonely. Were you working late while I was away?’

  ‘No, not really. It’s been quiet and I made sure I got back in good time.’

  Megan watched her mother over the next few days and was forced to admit that her father was right about the drinking. Even though he’d taken away the bottle of vodka he’d found and tried to reason with Kathy, she was still drinking.

  Megan couldn’t understand where she was getting it. She searched all the cupboards, the wardrobes and every possible spot, looking for the source of supply. She found it quite by accident. The bottle was small and flat and her mother had hidden it behind a row of books on the shelves beside the fireplace.

  ‘Grudge me my little bit of pleasure, do you?’ Kathy Williams scowled when faced with the evidence.

  ‘Of course not,’ Megan told her. ‘We would much rather you drank openly, though … and in moderation. We don’t want you back into the clinic for more treatment,’ she added as her mother looked at her in disbelief.

  ‘I’ll be careful, Megan!’ Tears spilled down Kathy’s cheeks. ‘It bucks me up, and helps me get through the day,’ she explained with a weak smile.

  ‘We’ll have to keep an eye on her,’ Megan warned her father later. ‘While we are out at work and she is on her own, she gets bored and lonely and that’s when she turns to the bottle.’

  ‘I sometimes wonder if she finds living on Merseyside something of a disappointment.’ Watkin sighed. ‘Yet when we lived in Wales all she could think about was getting back to Liverpool.’

  ‘So many things have gone wrong for her since we’ve been here,’ Megan said thoughtfully. ‘And all the old friends she was so looking forward to meeting up with seem to have moved away.’

  ‘You could have a point there! What do you propose we should do about it?’

  ‘Move back to Wales, I suppose. No, not to Beddgelert,’ she said quickly as she saw her father was about to protest. ‘I know she found it far too quiet there. No, I thought somewhere like Rhyl, where there would be plenty for her to see and do. Would you like me to make some enquiries?’

  The following Saturday, Megan set off to house-hunt on their behalf. The first estate agent she visited was able to offer her a selection of three bungalows available to rent. She viewed them all but the one in Russet Gardens was, without a doubt, the most desirable.

  It was only a short distance from both the shopping centre and the promenade. The living room was well decorated and there were two other rooms as well as a light, airy kitchen which overlooked the prettily laid out garden.

  Her mind made up, she made the agent an offer. He accepted it without demur. The owners had already left the district and were anxious to rent.

  Hugely pleased with her morning’s work, Megan went back to take another look at the property. Leaving her car parked in the driveway she walked from the bungalow to the promenade to make sure it would not be too far for her mother whenever she felt like a stroll.

  The three-mile stretch of coastline offered an impressive vie
w of distant mountain ranges dominated by Carnedd Llewellyn, the second highest mountain in Wales. After checking out the local shops, Megan took the coast road home, confident that her mother would be much happier living there than on Merseyside.

  As she drove through Mostyn, she instinctively deviated from the main route and took the road that led to Tynmorfa. When the white bungalow the Joneses lived in came in sight she decided she’d seen enough. It was pointless reviving memories long since dead, she told herself.

  Too late she remembered there was nowhere in the lane where she could turn round, which meant either backing all the way to the main road or driving on as far as the Walkers’ house.

  As she manoeuvred the car into their gateway, a huge black Doberman came skittering down the gravel drive, barking furiously.

  ‘Jason!’ Impulsively, Megan opened the car door as the huge dog came rushing towards her.

  ‘Heavens! There’s a surprise seeing you again. Megan, isn’t it?’

  ‘Mrs Jones!’ Megan stopped patting the dog and looked up, startled.

  ‘It’s been a long time since you were down here. Come on in and I’ll make you a cup of tea.’

  ‘I’d love to stop, but I’m on my way home from Rhyl, and I’m already late.’

  ‘Funny way to come from Rhyl.’ Sybil Jones smiled. ‘Come on,’ she insisted, ‘a couple more minutes won’t make that much difference. I can tell you all the news then.’ Her beady brown eyes glistened. ‘There’s a crowd of weirdos living up there now,’ she added, nodding towards the Walkers’ house. ‘Friends of Miles, most of them. All living in together like animals. Men, women, children all sharing everything, even the bedrooms! None of them do any work. Miles gives them money. They get by on that, and what they can forage from the garden … and their dole money.’

  ‘How many did you say there were?’

  ‘Twenty or more. They have wild parties when Miles is here,’ she added disapprovingly. ‘They’re on drugs, of course, and it wouldn’t surprise me if they gave stuff to the youngsters as well,’ she added darkly. ‘There’s some right shindigs, I can tell you.’