Moving On

by Rosie Harris

  ‘Gracious, I hope not,’ Jenny said, concern etched on her face.

  Karen shrugged. ‘Knowing him as well as I do I wouldn’t count on him not doing so if he thinks that by admitting who his accomplices were he might get a lighter sentence.’

  Jenny was extremely worried although Karen didn’t appear to be overly concerned by what the prospects might be. Every time the phone or the doorbell rang, Jenny jumped guiltily and then hesitated before answering either of them.

  When a couple of weeks later they read in the newspaper that Hadyn Trimm had been arrested they followed the details avidly. Over the next few weeks, since no one had come to question Karen, and her name had not been mentioned, Jenny finally relaxed.

  She felt drained. Having Karen living with her under such circumstances and in such cramped conditions was making her edgy. Now, with Hadyn Trimm safely locked away awaiting trial, she felt it was time for Karen to find herself a job.

  As the days passed and Karen seemed to be making no attempt to do so, Jenny had the uneasy feeling that she was prepared to sleep on the sofa in her living room for the rest of time.

  She’d thought that by now Karen would have grown tired of geriatric company, yet she seemed quite content to mix in the communal lounge every day and chat to Lionel Bostock and any other elderly people who happened to be in there.

  They all seemed to think she was delightful because she listened to their catalogue of illnesses, treatments and litany of pills so sincerely. She even offered helpful advice whenever she could or willingly popped to the shops or the post office for them to ‘save their tired old legs’.

  ‘You are so lucky having your granddaughter living with you,’ they told Jenny. ‘She’s such a sweet girl and must be such a great help to you.’

  Jenny smiled and kept her thoughts to herself.

  Having Karen there as a permanent lodger was proving very expensive. Karen seemed to be oblivious of the fact that she wasn’t making any contribution at all towards paying for all their food or any of the other bills.

  Tentatively Jenny broached the subject about her plans for the future and to her surprise Karen agreed with her.

  ‘Yes, I think it is time for me to get back out into the real world. It’s been wonderful staying here with you, Gran, but it is very cramped and I certainly do need to earn some money.’

  ‘I shall miss having you, of course, Karen, but you know you can always come back if things don’t work out.’

  They smiled at each other as if in full agreement; each of them waiting for the other to say more.

  ‘You’ve finally made some plans for the future then?’ Jenny pressed.

  ‘Yes! Give me a few more days and then you can have your flat to yourself again,’ Karen said with a dismissive smile.

  Jenny waited for her to go into details but when she didn’t she gave a mental shrug and decided not to pry. She was sure Karen would tell her when she was ready to do so.

  Nineteen

  It came as something of a shock to Jenny the following morning when she found that the duvet and the pillow that Karen used each night for her bed on the sofa were neatly stacked and there was no sign of her at all.

  As she made a pot of tea and poured milk over her cereal she wondered why Karen had gone out so early. She hadn’t said the night before that she was going out somewhere special. Then, come to think of it she hadn’t mentioned very much at all lately, Jenny thought resignedly.

  For some reason Karen had become very secretive, Jenny mused as she washed up and put away her breakfast dishes. She’d said that she was making plans for the future but she certainly hadn’t confided what they were.

  As she tidied the living room, picking up the evening newspaper to put it in the waste bin, she found a note lying on top of it.

  I’m off to start a new life, Gran. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be in touch.

  Karen xx

  Jenny read it though over and over again. What on earth did it mean? What sort of new life. Why hadn’t she given her any details? She couldn’t have gone back to Hadyn Trimm because he was in prison, so where had she gone?

  A myriad of questions went round and round in Jenny’s head. She made herself a cup of tea and tried to reason out what had happened to Karen. It was no good, she couldn’t think of an answer. She put on her hat and coat and went for a long walk along the promenade hoping that the fresh air would clear her mind.

  There were two liners lying at anchor on the other side of the Mersey, and Jenny wondered if Karen had gone back to her old job and was on one of them.

  When she returned to the flat she tried to fathom out exactly what Karen had taken with her, hoping that might help to shed some light on her absence. She spent the rest of the day in a haze, going back over their conversations of the past few days, searching for any clues in what they had discussed, but it was useless.

  Finally, she accepted that her granddaughter had gone and that she could do nothing until Karen got in touch with her.

  She still felt piqued by the fact that Karen hadn’t said what she was planning to do. She had obviously fixed up something because the past week or so she had gone around with a secret little smile on her face. Jenny felt she was being childish.

  Over the next few days Jenny delighted in having her flat to herself. She opened all the windows wide to let in fresh air and whatever sunshine there was. She turned out the living room from top to bottom, getting rid of all traces of Karen living there. Any items that Karen had left behind she stored away carefully in a cardboard box. She would give them to her the next time she saw her, although when that would be she had no idea.

  Anyway, Jenny told herself, she wasn’t going to let that worry her, she was far too happy. Now, on her own, she could live life to her own timetable; get up when she wished, eat when she wanted to and indulge in the foods she enjoyed rather than have to pander to Karen’s tastes. It was sheer bliss.

  Jenny was so content with her own company that she didn’t even attend coffee morning that Wednesday. She was far too busy enjoying her feeling of freedom. Instead she went for a long walk along the promenade, watching the busy life on the Mersey. She walked as far as Warren Point and regarded her old home with nostalgia. On the return walk she even stopped and bought an ice cream from a roadside kiosk and sauntered along eating it.

  She felt so cocooned in her own happiness that she didn’t even stop to talk to the other residents when she met them in passing. She thought they gave her a funny look but she was too immersed in herself to let it bother her. They probably thought she was being snooty; or else if they had heard that Karen had gone thought that she was upset about it and wanted to be on her own.

  The following Wednesday morning when she went along for coffee there was a momentary pause in the general chatter when she walked into the room. All eyes turned to look at her, followed by curious stares and whispered talk.

  Jenny walked over to a vacant chair in one of the large circular groups. As she sat down she was aware of the tension all around her; it felt like the electrically charged air before a thunderstorm.

  There was an uncanny silence as she accepted her cup of coffee from the concierge and chose a shortbread biscuit from the plate on the table in front of her.

  When she looked up Jenny found that Richard and Lorna Hill were sitting directly opposite her and that Lorna had an expectant look on her lined face as if hoping to hear some interesting news.

  Jenny groaned inwardly, remembering what an avid gossip Lorna was, but knew it was too late to do anything about it and hoped the woman wasn’t going to start asking awkward questions about Karen.

  Before Lorna could speak, Jane Phillips walked across the room from another group and stood beside Lorna. She was wearing a dark grey pinstripe skirt and a black sweater that made her look like a Gestapo interrogator as she stood there with arms akimbo.

  ‘So are you going to tell us all exactly what has happened?’ she demanded in a domineering voice.
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br />   ‘What has happened?’ Jenny looked at her blankly. ‘I don’t understand what you mean. About what?’

  ‘About your granddaughter, of course,’ Jane said pointedly.

  There was a sharp intake of breath from those nearby, uneasy coughs from one or two of the men and a trembling high-pitched laugh from Lorna.

  ‘Well?’ Jane looked smug. ‘Go on then.’

  ‘Perhaps Mrs Langton doesn’t wish to talk about it,’ the concierge intervened.

  ‘I bet she doesn’t,’ Jane Phillips murmured. ‘She’s certainly kept herself hidden away ever since it happened. She’s probably hoping that by now we will have lost interest.’

  ‘My granddaughter is no longer living with me because she has a new job. Not that it is any business of yours,’ Jenny said stiffly.

  As Jenny stopped speaking a titter broke out and rippled round the room. She felt uneasy; unable to understand what she had said that gave rise to mirth.

  ‘Is that what you call it,’ Jane said in a ribald voice that brought even more titters.

  Jenny looked at her questioningly, shaking her head in bewilderment.

  ‘By Jove! You really don’t know what they’re talking about,’ Major Mitchell guffawed. ‘Either that or you’re a damn good actress, what!’

  Jenny picked up her cup of coffee and took a sip, then put it down again on the table because her hand was shaking so much that she was afraid she was going to spill it.

  ‘No, I don’t know what you are talking about,’ she agreed. ‘My granddaughter left here the weekend before last and I have been busy ever since so I have obviously missed something that has been going on.’

  ‘It’s your granddaughter we are talking about,’ Jane told her. ‘Your granddaughter and Lionel Bostock.’

  ‘What about them?’

  There was an uneasy silence, then several people spoke at once all eager to tell her the news.

  ‘She’s gone off on a cruise with him. Not sure if it’s down to the Mediterranean or across to the West Indies.’

  ‘They left the Saturday morning before last in a taxi. I saw them with my own eyes,’ Beryl Willis confirmed with relish.

  ‘He always books a double cabin when he goes on his annual cruise in the hopes that he might get lucky.’

  ‘Seems that this time he got lucky before he even left Liverpool,’ someone guffawed.

  ‘His son Edwin told me that they’re off for a month in the sun,’ Mavis Grey piped up, her small dark eyes almost popping out of her round podgy face with excitement. ‘When I told my Dan he could hardly believe it.’

  Jenny felt stunned. ‘Neither can I. Are you sure you have your facts right?’ she protested.

  She spoke in a quiet, controlled voice but inside she was churning as she listened to the babble of talk going on all around her. Lionel Bostock was an old man of eighty-three and her granddaughter was only in her twenties. She felt sick. She couldn’t believe Karen had done anything so foolish as to go off on holiday with Lionel Bostock.

  Jenny looked round the room at the elderly ladies in their twinsets and pearls, the men in tweed jackets and flannels or dark trousers, all of them so prim and proper, all of them delighting in this scrap of juicy scandal.

  Surely it was idle gossip. Karen had happened to leave Merseyside Mansions at the same time as Lionel Bostock had, she told herself. He had probably offered her a lift in his taxi, nothing more irregular than that.

  Jenny felt indignant that they should think Karen had gone on a cruise with him. If only Karen had been more open with her and told her what her new job was, and where it was, or even where she would be living then she would have been able to scotch these foolish rumours right away.

  She wanted to get up and run from the community room and seek solace in her own flat but her legs felt so shaky that she wasn’t sure she could do it.

  She needed to have time to calm down and get her thoughts in order. Time on her own to go back over every conversation she’d had with Karen before she’d left to see if there had been anything that confirmed what these people were saying.

  Twenty

  Jenny found it difficult to accept that Karen had gone away on a cruise with Lionel Bostock. Nevertheless, she absented herself from any further coffee mornings. For the moment she didn’t want to face the barrage of questions and innuendo about Karen and Lionel. She knew she would have to do so sometime but she decided to wait until they returned and see what happened then.

  She still couldn’t believe that Karen would do something so utterly foolish. She waited impatiently for a postcard or letter from Karen telling her where she was and what she was doing. Once that arrived she could quash all the ridiculous rumours that were going around.

  But the postcard when it did arrive brought confirmation that all the rumours were correct and that Karen had gone on a cruise with Lionel Bostock.

  Jenny was aghast. Surely it must be a joke; a very silly one at that. She went for a long walk to put the matter out of her head. She’d give Karen a good talking to when next she saw her and explain how much gossip this might have caused if anyone else at Merseyside Mansions had accidentally seen it and read what she’d written.

  When she returned from her walk Jenny found small knots of people in the reception area clustered around the notice board and all excitedly chattering about a new notice that was on display.

  She went to walk past, deciding she would read it later when there wasn’t quite such a crowd there, but found her way barred. Everyone wanted to talk to her about the cruise.

  To her dismay she learned that was what the notice was all about. Lionel had sent a letter to the concierge telling her all about his cruise with Karen and asked her to display it on the notice board so that everyone at Merseyside Mansions would know all about it.

  As she tried to fend off the many questions Jenny felt like a stag at bay.

  She kept telling them that she’d had no idea that anything of this sort was happening until she had received a postcard that morning. She still insisted that she hadn’t even known that Karen had intended to go on a cruise with Lionel Bostock.

  No one seemed to believe her, and she was on the verge of tears when Tom Fieldman took her by the arm and led her towards the front door, explaining over his shoulder that they had arranged to meet some friends for lunch.

  ‘I thought it best for you to get well clear of that mob until after all the excitement dies down,’ he said grimly as he steered her towards his car. ‘They’re almost like a lynch party.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Jenny said gratefully in a voice that was little more than a whisper, reflecting how upset she felt.

  ‘We’ll drive out into the Wirral and have lunch at a very quiet little pub I know in Heswall. If you want to talk about Lionel and Karen you can, otherwise we’ll forget all about them until they return from their cruise.’

  Lionel had talked so much about his forthcoming holiday that Jenny knew not only which ship he was on but also its destination. On impulse, the very next day, she went over to the company’s offices in Liverpool and was delighted to find that she could check their progress. After that she went in every day and followed the progress of the liner they were on.

  Afterwards, knowing she couldn’t settle to anything at home, and wanting to avoid meeting any of the residents at Merseyside Mansions, even Tom Fieldman, she stayed on in Liverpool. She would go into Lyons Corner House or the Kardomah for a coffee and then wander around the Bon Marche, C&A’s, T.J. Hughes or one of the other big department stores, idly eyeing up all the latest fashions.

  After a time the assistants recognized her and seemed to know that she had no intention of buying anything, so apart from the occasional hopeful smile they ignored her completely.

  The four weeks that Lionel and Karen were away were the longest Jenny had ever known. Yet, much as she longed for them to be back she was also rather apprehensive about the sort of reception they would receive from the other residents.

  Why
, oh why, had Karen acted so foolishly as to take up with a man who was so much older Jenny kept asking herself over and over again. Had Karen done so because he was reputed to be very wealthy, as so many of the residents seemed to think she had, or was she genuinely fond of the old man. He certainly dressed smartly and he was well spoken; witty even. He was wonderful for his age but there was no denying that he was often quite slow in his movements and in collecting his thoughts together.

  They were due to return on a Monday and when Jenny made enquiries she was informed by a clerk at the shipping office that it would probably be late evening before passengers disembarked. She waited for Karen to call her but when midnight approached she gave up and went to bed.

  She tossed and turned for most of the night, wondering whether their ship had been delayed for some reason or if Karen was putting off making contact until the next day.

  Tuesday passed without any word from Karen. Jenny stayed in her apartment waiting for the phone to ring or for there to be a knock on her door. None came; she neither heard nor saw anyone the entire day.

  Wednesday was coffee morning and Jenny was still unsure what to do. She didn’t have a telephone number for Lionel’s flat, so she couldn’t ring him to find out if he and Karen were back; she had no idea if they intended to brazen their return out in public or not.

  Partly from curiosity, partly from a sense of duty, Jenny felt she ought to be there to support her wayward granddaughter. She dressed with care. A dark brown tailored skirt, a beige top and a pink and white floral neck scarf. She kept her make-up simple apart from a bright lipstick so that she didn’t look pale and washed out.

  Head held high she walked into the community lounge and her heart pounded as she saw that Karen and Lionel were already in the room. She was aware that all eyes were on her, watching to see her reaction as she walked towards them and then hesitated as the concierge served them their coffee.