The details ceased to be important. An open road beckoned. He could change his appearance, get a job, find a room, stay in or go out as and when he chose. There was money in his private bank account, but the police might keep an eye on that once he’d escaped.
Hell, must he lie back and accept his punishment? Must he be incarcerated here until the story about the boy had run its course in the newspapers?
As for escape, he’d have had as good a chance in Alcatraz, since he had no idea where he was, and there were no clues, no accents, no sounds from outside. He guessed he was in the back of beyond, but at least this wasn’t Australia. England was relatively small; sooner or later, there would be a road.
But first, he had to batter a dedicated Catholic with a crucifix. This was a grim institution, and he intended leaving it behind, no matter what the cost.
Wednesday was to be Polly’s evening off. There would be no haircuts, no perms, no colour rinses tonight. Carla needed another soaking, but she could wait. Tomorrow, Polly would be going with Cal to the hospital. But tonight, she belonged to Frank.
After Cal’s card school had settled in the living room, she checked her makeup, made sure her hair looked good and her stockings weren’t laddered. It was exciting. Since the accident, she had never been out on a date. She was a teenager again.
She sat in the passenger seat of Frank’s humble Austin. He didn’t believe in smart cars. In his oft-expressed opinion, men who needed posh cars were lacking somewhere in the testosterone department. ‘Big under the bonnet, small in the trousers,’ he said.
‘Frank?’
‘Yes?’
‘Where are we going?’
‘Oh, I thought I’d told you.’
She growled. ‘Liar.’
‘I wondered when you’d do that,’ he said, ‘because in bed, you purr like a contented kitten. And I thought, well, cats purr, but they also growl.’
‘You know you haven’t told me where we’re going. You’re the cat, anyway, grinning like that Cheshire thing out of Alice in Wonderland. Where are we going?’ she asked again.
‘To my house.’
She opened the car door. ‘If you think I’m going anywhere near Old Pasteurized, you can make your own bloody cheese.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me.’
‘But I didn’t get your meaning.’ He did, but he wasn’t telling her that.
‘Pasteurized milk, cheese, Old Cow Charleson – work it out, lad. I can’t stand your flaming mother. She looked down on Ellen, and couldn’t bear to be near me. When she collected our rent, I used to put it in a silver dish for her.’
‘You didn’t. You haven’t got a silver dish. Close the door.’
She closed the door. Sometimes, she did as she was told. ‘I’m not good enough for your mam.’
‘You’re not marrying her.’
‘No, I’m marrying her little boy.’
‘I’m not little.’
‘I know that and you know that, but does she?’
Polly had this all wrong. Mother didn’t treat him like a child: she expected him to be a replacement for his father. As soon as poor Charlie Charleson had shuffled off the coil, his boots had been passed to Frank, and he’d been forced to make them fit. ‘I loved my dad,’ he said now. ‘He even made sure that I didn’t get named Charles. All firstborn sons are supposed to be baptized Charles Charleson, but Dad put his foot down. She doesn’t see me as a child, Polly. Oh, no. She views me as her next servant. I was my father’s replacement. I got dragged away from accountancy and became a purchaser of houses and a collector of rent.’
‘She saw Ellen as a threat, Frank. I’ll be the same. And where we come from doesn’t help.’
‘We lived nearby.’
‘And got out.’
He sighed heavily. ‘She was born in a two up, two down with gas lighting and the bath hanging on a nail next to the outside lav. Her mother took in washing and her dad had a window round. The airs and graces came later when she married Dad. Dad was ambitious and hardworking, so she grabbed him.’
‘And now?’ Polly asked.
‘And now, I’m going for your ring – Ellen’s ring – and I shall find somewhere for us and Cal as soon as possible. The business will still be yours, and we’ll get round the details, but she has to know that you exist.’
Polly wasn’t convinced. ‘You could go on your own and get the ring. She doesn’t need to know yet, does she? Cal doesn’t know, and he’s my family.’ She paused for thought. ‘Are you using me to punish her?’
‘No. I’m surprised if you think me capable of sinking so low. I’m not doing anything behind her back, that’s all. She takes a while to get used to change. The point I need to make is that I love you, we’ve decided to be engaged to marry, and none of it’s negotiable. She needs to get out of bed and run her business again, because my new life’s in a storage place on the Dock Road.’
‘And Cal? Are you absolutely sure about where you’ll store him, Frank?’
‘He’s not negotiable, either. Your brother’s also my friend.’
Polly was still slightly disappointed. On her first date in years, she’d hoped they would be going somewhere nice, a country pub on the road to Formby, or a trip to Southport. But no. Frank wanted to grab the cow by the horns right from the start. ‘I thought you were taking me out.’
‘I am. We’re getting engaged at the Shepherd’s Crook later on. With the ring. And you’re coming with me while I get it.’
He was right, Polly supposed. He needed to put the old besom in the picture as soon as possible. Mrs C would probably hate anyone who threatened to interfere with the business, her prime consideration. ‘All right,’ she said eventually. ‘But on your head be it. Because if she kicks out at me, she’ll get as good as she gives.’
Frank laughed. ‘Have you any idea of how proud I am of you? Feel free to start as you mean to go on.’ He pondered for a moment. ‘Ellen just took it from Mother, then moaned at me about her. I was the piggy in the middle, the referee, and it was hard work. My mother is my mother. She’s a selfish, calculating and frightened woman. She copes by trying to make everyone else suffer as badly as she does. You, my love, are her Waterloo. And no, I didn’t choose you because you’ll put her in her place. I didn’t choose you at all. Love allows no room for choice.’
She shivered. He was so romantic, yet so damned honest. ‘All right, then. But I hope she’s wearing armour, because I’m in no mood for being nice.’
Frank started the car. ‘Hmm. There goes my sex life.’
‘Oh, sex isn’t about being nice,’ she advised him. ‘It’s just another way of fighting.’
He burst out laughing and was incapable of driving until he calmed down. ‘Fighting?’ he managed finally. ‘Who wins?’
‘We both do,’ she said. ‘But if there was a panel of judges, it would be a close call in my favour.’
‘And babies?’ he asked, wiping away tears of laughter.
‘Then we both lose. Especially when it comes to sleep.’
She had an answer for everything. She’d always had an answer for everything. But her saving grace was humour. Even when she spoke sharply, her happy nature shone through. His high-rise breakfast, the telling off for owning an improving hand, the knickers scene – all these examples of her true temperament had amused him. ‘Seven years ago, you turned me down.’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Ellen wanted you. She raved about you day after day, then I met Mr Wonderful, and all was well. Till he ran away, the rotten coward.’
Frank glanced at his watch. ‘Right. Don’t ever dare to turn me down again, madam. I’m as strong-willed as you are, so I may well turn out to be your Waterloo. We’ve a table booked. Let’s call in and see the dragon.’
She pretended to gulp. ‘Does she breathe fire?’
‘Only on Saturdays when I top her up with paraffin. It’s Wednesday. She’ll be out of fuel.’
/> The ‘dragon’ had been sitting at her window for what seemed like weeks. He was messing about with that Polly Kennedy, who’d been engaged to a Greg somebody or other, who had abandoned Polly after her brother’s accident. There was no chocolate in the house. Christine Lewis had promised to buy no more even if Norma screamed for it.
Inside, she was screaming. So loud were the internal shrieks, she didn’t notice the car until it pulled into the driveway. Ah, so his hand must be better, then. When he left the car, Norma noticed the bruising. Yes, he’d fought on behalf of an urchin, hadn’t he? Oh, no. The girl was with him. She was very pretty, but her eyes were quick with street wisdom. This was a daughter of the slums, and Frank deserved better. Norma turned away from the window. Her heart was doing somersaults, and she’d better get to that stupid doctor’s surgery for a blood test.
The front door opened. She couldn’t breathe properly. He knocked on her private door. ‘Mother?’
‘Come in,’ she managed. Her son was a gentleman, so he stood back and allowed Polly Kennedy to enter first. The girl was lovely, with a healthy head of dark brown hair and bright blue, sparkling eyes. She had a neat figure, and Frank had seen her naked, because he’d written about her.
‘Mrs Charleson,’ Polly said.
‘Ah yes. I remember you.’
‘And I remember you, of course.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you do. You run a rather basic cafe on Scotland Road.’
‘And a hairdressing business,’ Frank said.
A short silence ensued before Norma referred to the article in the newspaper. ‘You weren’t raised to hit priests in any circumstances.’
‘I wasn’t raised to kick nuns, either, but cruelty to children is intolerable. Billy Blunt could have died.’
‘Frank saved his life,’ Polly said. ‘Almost broke his hand doing it.’
Norma continued to stare at her son. ‘Going somewhere nice?’ she asked.
‘Shepherd’s Crook,’ he replied. After a second or two, he continued. ‘Polly was Ellen’s best friend, if you remember. We’re getting engaged tonight, and Polly wants to wear Ellen’s ring.’ He watched while his mother’s face drained of colour. Would she speak her mind in front of Polly?
Norma hung on to her temper, though it was no mean feat. It was all planned, all mapped out. Elaine Lewis had read Frank’s interview in the paper and had offered to introduce him to lawyers who might be interested in pursuing the rights of children. But he was about to fasten himself to a second ill-bred waif. This one seemed feisty, cheekier than her friend had been.
‘Are you all right, Mother?’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Yes, thank you.’ She looked at Polly. ‘And how is your brother?’
‘Still in a wheelchair, Mrs Charleson, still doing the very basic cooking in our very basic cafe.’ Polly felt cold, as if she were standing in front of an open refrigerator. It was Norma Charleson; she chilled the air around herself.
Frank’s mouth twitched, but he dared not laugh.
‘So when you marry, who will care for him?’
‘We will.’ This from Frank, who seemed mildly amused.
Norma’s system continued to howl for chocolate.
‘Cal’s getting stronger all the time,’ Polly said. ‘He still goes for treatment every week.’
‘If you’ll excuse me,’ Norma said haughtily. ‘I want to listen to something on the Home Service.’
They left. In the church-like entrance hall, Polly leaned on a cold wall. ‘How have you managed to put up with her all these years?’
‘Practice,’ he answered. ‘And selective deafness. I copied my dad, more or less.’ He led her into the sitting room and asked her to wait while he went upstairs. She sat and looked through the fireplace into the dining room. It was a fascinating and unusual cottage, but she couldn’t settle in the chair. Mother Moo was just a few paces away; did she want that as a mother-in-law?
Standing at a window, she looked out at Little Crosby Road. Frank was adorable, yet Polly knew there would be trouble. A part of her wanted to run away now, before he came back, but such cowardice was not acceptable. Greg and Lois had buggered off without a word; anyway, Frank knew where to find her. Above all, he deserved an explanation.
He returned, his face almost split in two by a very wide grin. ‘Got it,’ he said.
She simply stared at him.
‘Polly?’
‘Get me away from here, please. Now.’ She turned, walked out of the house and stood by the car. Frank opened the passenger door, and she sat in the vehicle. As he walked round to the driver’s side, she wondered what the hell she was going to say, because she loved him, but . . .
He pulled out of the drive and parked further up the road. ‘What is it?’
Polly inhaled deeply. ‘I think we should wait, because of Cal. We don’t know what he’s going to need if he gets back on his feet. And I want the two of us – Cal and me – to stay where we are until we know the extent of his recovery.’
‘But we can still be engaged,’ Frank insisted. ‘And that’s not the real reason, is it?’
She offered no reply.
‘Answer me, Polly.’
‘It’s one of the reasons. You know the other one. It’s sitting back there in its little annexe. I’m sure she hastened Ellen’s sudden and swift death, Frank. She aims for the weakest, which was why she treated poor Ellen so badly. I may be sturdier, healthier and cheekier than she was, but she never managed to hate your mother. I do hate her. And no matter where we go, she’ll find a way of wrecking our lives, mine in particular.’
‘But—’
‘But I have a brother, and he’s precious, and not as strong as he used to be. If she gets my back right up, I’ll kill her, and what use would I be to Cal if I hanged or got a prison sentence? She won’t let go. She’s cunning, devious and a thorough bitch. Watching her just now, I could see the wheels in her head turning. No. She will not wreck Cal’s life by wrecking mine. I am sorry, so sorry. I hadn’t seen her for years, and I’d managed to forget how evil she is.’
‘She’s my mother.’
‘She’s your problem, then. I love you. I also love my brother and myself. She bullied and upset Ellen, who was frail, and she would try the same with me. I appear strong, but I’m still human and breakable. Within two minutes of walking into her room, my hands were itching to strangle her. Basic cafe, basic food. Who does she think she is? While she’s alive, I can’t marry you. Cal is my family, and he comes first. Take me home.’
‘You love me?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Then you’ll cope. Many women don’t like their mothers-in-law. We can move far away from her—’
‘Great. Then I’d feel guilty when she got sick or died. I’d blame myself for the rest of my life for keeping you away from her. Can’t you see? No one can ever win. She triumphs no matter what.’
Frank started the car. But he didn’t go over the moss towards the Shepherd’s Crook; instead, he drove the woman he loved back to Scotland Road.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, breaking a silence that had lasted several miles.
‘Go to your brother,’ Frank answered. ‘I shan’t bother you again, not yet, so don’t worry. If you don’t love me enough to tolerate my mother, then we must stay apart for a while. Because I can’t look at you without wanting to hold you, and you aren’t good enough for me at the moment, Polly. I expected better from you.’
She cried for hours that night. Never before in her life had she felt so alone. The other pillow smelled of him. She slept holding that small echo of Frank, breathing him in, mourning him. ‘I buried my chances,’ she whispered. ‘And I let the old cow win.’
Five
Polly glared sternly at the image in the mirror. She was furious, upset, frightened, lonely . . . ‘I just don’t believe you, Kennedy. You knew full well what his mother was, yet you still managed to be shocked, you damned fool. If you’d thought about it, you’d have realized she wouldn’t have im
proved with age. Nobody ever does. You’re pathetic, turning down the man you love all because his mother’s a witch.’ How could she live without that smile, without the touch of his hand on her arm, those daft breakfasts, his poky little car and her one pair of sensible knickers? He’d taken her to see his mother to test her mettle, to face Old Cow and prove that she could manage the situation. ‘I failed. Just a little test, and I failed.’
He was her everything, yet he couldn’t possibly be that, because of Cal. Till the day one of them died, Polly’s twin would be high on the agenda; only children of her own could be allowed more importance. But she still didn’t want a life without Frank in it.
So was she pathetic or was she principled? When she’d looked into those cold, calculating eyes, she’d seen icy fury and grim determination. There was something very, very wrong with Frank’s mother. It was as if she couldn’t reach anyone, touch anyone, feel sympathy for another person. She wasn’t real. She was her own creature, a person she had built from imperfect spare parts purchased from some unscrupulous scrap merchant.
Norma Charleson would have given up becoming disabled, would have risen again like the phoenix to do as much damage as possible. Cal had to be safe. Could Frank have put a stop to his mother? He’d never managed to keep her away from Ellen, had he? Poor Ellen, so happy, so lively, so dead.
The disabled act had been invented to keep Frank at home. Mrs Moo, doing her best to look incapable, had balanced everything on her son’s broad shoulders, keeping him busy and in charge. She no doubt believed that was enough, that he needed no personal life, no contact physical or emotional with a woman. He was her slave, and she intended to maintain her hold over him.
Polly removed her makeup. She’d been lying on the bed holding his pillow for hours, and she’d only just changed into her pyjamas. No pretty nightdress tonight, because he wasn’t here. He would never be here again. Never was a long time, but Cal had to come first. As for the idea of visiting Mrs Moo for Sunday tea, for Christmas and other occasions – well, Frank would have been forced to go alone, and that was a very poor basis for marriage.
A Mersey Mile Page 10
