Moving On

by Rosie Harris

  Alone in her bedroom Karen breathed in deeply, relief flooding through her; she was so happy to be back in familiar surroundings once again. She crossed over to the window and stared out. The Welsh mountains to the left were shrouded in October mist. As she looked to her right at the Liverpool waterfront on the other side of the Mersey, it seemed so far away that it was like a different world.

  Closing the window she looked around her bedroom with a sense of utter contentment. Everything seemed to be exactly as she had left it and her heart lifted. The events of the past eight months faded from her mind almost as if they were of no importance. All her books were still there, neatly arranged in the bookcase her father had bought for her tenth birthday.

  She opened the wardrobe doors and found the clothes she had left behind were still all hanging there. She smiled; she really was back home. For the first time in months she felt free; her own person once again.

  Nothing had changed, she thought happily. There didn’t appear to be any sign of lodgers in the house so obviously her grandmother had found a way of managing without doing anything so drastic as taking strangers into her home.

  Eight

  Jenny had already made the tea, and as Karen entered the room she patted the sofa for her granddaughter to come and sit beside her, then she poured it out and handed Karen a cup.

  For a few moments they sipped their tea in silence, enjoying each other’s company. Then, as she replaced her cup and saucer on the tray, Karen began to tell Jenny all that had taken place between her and Jimmy Martin.

  Jenny remained silent throughout apart from the occasional understanding nod or murmur of sympathy. By the end of Karen’s story she was holding her hand in a mute attempt to comfort her.

  ‘Aren’t you going to say “I warned you”, or “I told you so”,’ Karen asked heavily.

  Jenny squeezed her hand. ‘No, of course I’m not. I’m sorry it turned out so badly for you but you needed to find out for yourself. It’s all part of growing up and being able to recognize what will work and what won’t. So often when we come face to face with the real world it turns out to be quite different from our dreams.’

  ‘You did warn me,’ Karen gulped.

  ‘True, but as I’ve already said, you have to find these things out for yourself. I’ve discovered that I am not cut out to take in lodgers,’ she admitted with a sad little smile.

  Jenny poured them each another cup of tea and then regaled Karen with the story of how she had fared with her two lodgers.

  ‘So, we’ve both made mistakes and learned a lesson.’ She smiled. ‘We’ll have to come up with a completely new plan about how we are going to manage in the future I’m afraid.’

  ‘Well, I still have my job and since I have been promised promotion I shall be getting a pay rise so I’ll help as much as possible,’ Karen told her.

  ‘I know you will, my dear, but I will still need to earn a living of some kind as well. The overheads here seem to be increasing all the time. I suppose we could move to a smaller place but I do love it here.’

  ‘So do I,’ Karen agreed, ‘especially this room with its big picture window looking out across the Mersey estuary.’

  She sat up straight, frowning as she looked around the room. ‘There’s something different about it today. You’ve taken the picture down from the opposite wall and the bureau has gone from the corner over there. Why have you moved them? Where are they now?’

  ‘I sold them,’ Jenny told her quietly.

  ‘What on earth for? You loved them and you always said that they were very very old.’

  ‘Yes, valuable antiques,’ Jenny agreed with a sigh.

  Karen stared at her, a puzzled look on her face. ‘You mean that is why you sold them?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jenny nodded. ‘I needed the money. I’ve sold several other pieces as well.’

  ‘Oh, Gran! That is terrible. You were so fond of them; you were always telling me about their history.’

  ‘I needed the money,’ Jenny repeated quietly. ‘I’ll probably have to sell a good many more pieces to make ends meet. That is unless I manage to find a job and, as I have already discovered, my age and lack of business experience is making it difficult to do so.’

  ‘Well, it’s only a couple of months to Christmas so I am sure a lot of the stores in Liverpool will be taking on extra staff, so perhaps you might be lucky.’

  ‘No.’ Jenny shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t want to do all that travelling. Something local is what I would like. Didn’t you find it tiring having to leave home so early to catch a bus and then the ferry and then another bus when you reach Liverpool?’

  Karen shook her head. ‘No, but then I enjoy travelling, and now I’ve got my new promotion I will certainly be doing plenty of that. Sometimes I am going to be away for days at a time, when there’s a publicity event at one of the other ports in another country.’

  Jenny sighed. ‘You’ve certainly grown up and become very sure of yourself,’ she remarked with a smile.

  In that Jenny was right, and within a very short time she discovered that Karen was quite a different person from the girl who had left home to go and live with Jimmy Martin. In fact, in the weeks that followed there were times when she wondered if she knew Karen at all.

  Karen also realized that things were different between them. She had learned to stand on her own two feet and to make decisions without referring to anyone else. Now she sensed the hurt and disappointment this caused her gran.

  The frown that appeared on Jenny’s face whenever she said, as she was leaving the house in the morning, ‘I probably won’t be back for at least three days’ irritated her.

  She knew she should have mentioned it to Jenny the night before, or even two or three days earlier, but she didn’t want to have to explain her timetable or where she was going.

  Karen found her new position so exciting and fulfilling that once she was on her way over to Liverpool all the problems relating to her home life vanished from her mind. It was like moving into a different time zone; a world that was exciting and glamorous.

  She didn’t know what she found the most fascinating; possibly entertaining travel agents, showing them hospitality at her company’s expense and sometimes accompanying them on short trips on one or other of the liners the company owned.

  Every trip was different but she always met people who intrigued her. Sometimes the brief friendships she formed with attractive men looked like developing into something more serious. They were usually from other parts of the country, however, so when their visit was over they went straight back home.

  Sometimes a young, attractive man would hint that he would like to stay longer, but as she had no flat of her own it was impossible to agree to this unless they were prepared to book into a hotel and very few wanted to do that.

  She assumed that it was because they didn’t want their employers or their family to be able to trace their movements and find out what they had been up to.

  More and more Karen began to wish she had her own place. She was earning good money and could well afford it if she didn’t hand over so much to her gran, she reasoned.

  The running costs of Warren Point were a constant source of concern. It seemed to Karen that no matter how much money she put into their home, although it was far more than Jenny did, it was never enough.

  She brought the matter into the open over Christmas, the most solitary, frugal Christmas Day she had ever known. The two of them had sat down to a meagre meal of roast chicken, roast potatoes and Brussels sprouts. They’d forgone a drink and Christmas pudding. It might be advantageous for their figures but remembering all the pre-Christmas parties she’d attended in connection with her work it didn’t seem a very good way to celebrate a festive occasion.

  Jenny had managed to find three weeks’ work before Christmas but that had ended when the shop she’d been serving in closed on Christmas Eve.

  ‘Never mind, let’s hope that a new year means things will be better,’ J
enny commented as they washed up the dishes after their meal. ‘I’m convinced that next year is going to be a fresh start,’ she added optimistically.

  ‘Well, it will be for me,’ Karen said firmly. ‘I’m moving out and into a flat of my own. Somehow life here hasn’t been the same since I came home.’

  ‘Whatever has brought this on?’ Jenny asked in a shocked voice.

  ‘I find living here is far too isolated, and much too restrictive and claustrophobic.’

  ‘You’ve lived here all your life so how can it be all that much different? Are you blaming me?’

  ‘No, Gran, it’s nothing to do with you, it’s me. I’ve changed. Living with Jimmy and having my own place has made me look at life in a different way. I want to have some fun and excitement in my social life as well as at work. I need to feel free to do what I want when I want to do it without having to mention my intentions to anyone else or ask their permission.’

  ‘So it is living with me,’ Jenny sighed. ‘Well, can you afford to take on a flat on your own?’

  ‘Oh yes. I’ve worked it all out. If I didn’t have to hand over so much money to you each week I would be able to rent a flat and have money left over to enjoy myself.’

  ‘I see!’ Jenny stiffened and Karen tried not to notice the pained look on her grandmother’s face. ‘So that is what you intend to do?’

  ‘Yes, Gran. It’s wonderful being back with you but it’s simply not working out because I’ve changed. Even living with Jimmy I had more independence than I have here; now I feel cramped. I promise I’ll come and see you as often as possible.

  ‘You mean I ask too many questions?’ Jenny sighed.

  ‘Partly that. I always have a feeling that you expect me to report to you about everything I do. I’m afraid to bring friends home in case you don’t approve of them.’

  ‘I’m sorry you feel like that, Karen. I am only trying to take an interest in your life,’ Jenny said stiffly.

  ‘Yes, and I get the feeling that these days you don’t always like the same things as I do.’

  ‘You know quite well that you can bring your friends here any time you wish and that I would always make them welcome,’ Jenny persisted.

  Karen shook her head. ‘I don’t think so, Gran. I’m not sure you would like them.’

  Jenny didn’t answer. She felt deeply hurt by what Karen said yet, at the same time, she understood. Karen was so like her father, Jenny reflected. Eddy had always demanded independence; always been quite sure that he knew what he was doing.

  And look where that got him, she thought bitterly. He’d married the wrong girl and not only ended up heartbroken but with a young child to bring up.

  She thought back to the countless sleepless nights she’d had when Karen was a small child and Fiona had been away from home for days at a time and she had been the one who had to try and soothe the little tot. She thought of all the traumas they’d known as Karen was growing up, the childhood illnesses she’d nursed her through, the dreaded exams. There had been joyous occasions too, like parties and holidays, she reminded herself.

  Jenny sighed and stood up and went over to her desk. There was no point in dwelling on the past. She picked up the pile of bills lying there waiting to be paid; there were far more urgent things needing her attention than reliving the past, she thought grimly.

  Nine

  Jenny Langton sat at the dining room table trying to sort out the pile of bills she’d spread out there and place them in the right order. She scanned each one and then put it into the appropriate pile; those that had to be paid as soon as possible, the ones that could be put off until next month and those which she would forget about until the final demand notice reached her.

  As the pile that had to be paid right away grew ever bigger she shook her head in despair. There really was no way she could cover them because she knew that there was nowhere near enough money in her bank account.

  She had only just finished paying back the overdraft she’d had to ask for the previous month and she was pretty sure that the bank manager wouldn’t grant her another overdraft so soon.

  There was only one way out of the dilemma and that was to go and ask Karen if she would reconsider her decision about leaving home again; but would she?

  Perhaps she’d do it if she told her that she proposed to divide up the house in some way into two separate flats. If she did that then Karen could live her life as she wanted without any interference from her, Jenny mused hopefully.

  She looked at her watch; it was still only six o’clock. Since it was early May it would be light until at least nine o’clock so, perhaps if she went over to Liverpool right away, before her courage failed, and put this idea to Karen she might think about it.

  Jenny wasn’t sure where Bostock Street was, except that it was somewhere near Scotland Road. She had a tongue in her head, she told herself as she got ready to go, so she could always ask directions when she reached Liverpool.

  She spent most of the time on the bus and on the ferryboat as it crossed over the Mersey going over in her head what she would say to Karen.

  When she reached the Pier Head in Liverpool she set off up Water Street past Exchange Station and on into Scotland Road. It took her some time to find Bostock Street and when she did it looked so shabby that she couldn’t believe that it was where Karen was living.

  She once again checked the address on the slip of paper in her hand. As she hesitated at the bottom of the steps leading up to the front door a middle-aged woman in a black skirt and grubby blue blouse, a black shawl around her shoulders, came out and looked at her questioningly.

  ‘You want summat, luv?’

  ‘I’m looking for Karen Langton, this is the address she gave me.’

  ‘Yes, well yer’ll have to go down to the basement and knock on the door there,’ the woman told her, pointing to some steps leading down to a battered green door.

  Still unable to think she could possibly have the right address, Jenny went down the cracked stone steps to the small paved area littered with old paper bags and other rubbish that had blown in from the street and settled down there. Apprehensively she rapped on the door.

  ‘I have got the right address then,’ Jenny murmured as Karen opened the door.

  ‘Gran! Whatever are you doing here?’

  ‘I want to talk to you about something; can I come in?’

  ‘Yes. Of course.’ Rather reluctantly Karen opened the door back just far enough to allow Jenny to step inside.

  ‘This way.’ Karen took her through into a square room. Jenny needed a minute for her eyes to adjust. The long narrow window looked out on to the steps she had just come down, and as it was more or less below pavement level it didn’t let in much light.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ Karen frowned.

  ‘Not really; well yes, there is,’ Jenny said rather breathlessly. ‘It’s about the house; I’ve had a splendid idea and I wanted to talk it over with you.’

  ‘Sit down and let me make us a drink while you get your breath back.’ Karen frowned as she waved Jenny into one of the shabby armchairs.

  Left on her own Jenny looked round the room and shuddered. It had a low ceiling, the walls were covered in grey and pink wallpaper that was peeling away at the corners and the dark green curtains at the window were tied back with pink cord. The furniture was old and the two upholstered armchairs looked grubby.

  There seemed to be nothing to mark that Karen lived there, and Jenny couldn’t believe that Karen was happy in such surroundings. She will probably jump at the chance to come back to Warren Point she thought hopefully.

  As Karen came back into the room with a tray on which there was a teapot, milk jug and two cups and saucers, Jenny took a deep breath ready to tell her what she was planning to do.

  As they sipped their tea Karen listened to Jenny’s tale of woe followed by her suggestion about turning the house into two separate dwelling areas.

  ‘It sounds quite a good idea but where is t
he money coming from to carry out all the work?’ she asked in a hard, tight voice. ‘You’ve just been telling me about all the bills that are outstanding and how you can’t afford to carry out the urgent repairs and decorating that needs to be done and your idea about making it into two parts will cost thousands. No, Gran, it wouldn’t work.’

  Jenny’s mouth tightened. ‘Please Karen, do think about it. We could take out a loan or even a mortgage to cover the cost,’ she retorted and winced inwardly as she heard the pleading in her own voice.

  ‘No, Gran. That’s all pie in the sky. It wouldn’t work and, anyway, I don’t want us to live together again.’

  ‘You’re not telling me that you like living here in this … this … this squalor,’ Jenny said tightly.

  ‘No, I hate it here, but at present I cannot afford to pay out more. Fortunately I’m not here all that often. My work takes me all over the place and then I stay in top rate luxurious hotels.’

  ‘So what am I going to do?’ Jenny sighed. ‘I was counting on you to be cooperative?’

  ‘There is only one solution but you constantly close your eyes to it,’ Karen said tersely.

  Jenny looked puzzled. ‘What’s that?’

  Karen’s mouth tightened. ‘Sell the house; sell Warren Point and move into a flat and let me have my share of the money and then I can afford to rent something better.’

  Jenny stared at her in dismay. This was certainly not the answer she expected or wanted to hear. ‘Surely you don’t mean that,’ she gasped. ‘The house in Warren Point is our family home; your grandfather left it jointly to your father and me. Now it’s our home, Karen, yours and mine. It’s full of memories.’

  ‘Yes, sad ones. Grandad and my dad both died there,’ Karen said quickly.