Meet Me at the Pier Head

by Ruth Hamilton

  So will you, Portia. God, this is so difficult. I want to see you all the time, wake with you, spend my life with you; I also want to send you away because . . . No dark thoughts, Theo. ‘Are you going home now?’

  ‘Shortly,’ she replied. ‘I’ll look in on Tyger.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He was wearing his Closed For Business expression again. Not for the first time, she sensed his powerful inner conflict. Teddy Quinn had a past, but he refused to discuss it. Perhaps if she were to tell him about her own trials and triumphs he might open up? ‘Are you still in detention?’ she asked.

  ‘Definitely,’ he answered. ‘I’m doing one hundred lines – I must not snore in class.’ He stared hard at her. ‘I believe you’ve travelled all the way from Kent to alter all of us, Miss Bellamy.’

  ‘I shall leave my mark on the children, yes, but you’ll get no body parts out of me, Mr Cannibal.’

  ‘Spoilsport.’

  ‘Oh, I’m going home. I’ll water the garden, the bits with no sun on them.’

  ‘Again, thank you.’

  And at this point, all hell broke loose.

  Jack Peake crashed into the room, a hand pressed against his chest. ‘I went . . . I was just going to see . . . oh, God.’

  Tia jumped up. ‘Sit here. Please don’t do anything untidy like having a heart attack. Sit, Jack.’

  He sat. Tia took a bottle from the caretaker’s overall pocket. ‘Two drops?’

  Jack nodded.

  ‘Tongue up,’ she ordered before administering his medication.

  Theo’s jaw dropped. ‘I wouldn’t have had you heaving all that heavy stuff upstairs to the flat if I’d known you were ill.’

  Tia glared at her boss. ‘It’s a bit of angina, and he’s fine. This is his way, Teddy, his life. Don’t penalize him because he’s made a choice. We know nothing about any of this, so we say nothing. Please.’

  Jack’s breathing steadied. ‘Let me die my way, Theo. If I lose the job, I’ll be dead in a week, anyway.’

  ‘And don’t blame him for telling me,’ Tia snapped. ‘I found out when he was helping me move in, and I promised to say nothing.’

  Theo shook his head. ‘I have a duty, Tia.’

  ‘This man is loved here, and he loves the school. Let’s find out what’s happened, anyway.’ She gave her attention to her patient. ‘Two drops enough, Jack?’

  He nodded. ‘I’ll be right in a minute, queen.’

  ‘Good. When you’re ready, tell Mr Quinn what’s going on. Would you like me to leave?’

  ‘No.’ Jack grabbed her hand. ‘Tia, Theo, they’ve just found Miles Tunstall’s body on Ropers Park off Ivy Lane. Looks like he’s been strangled. Neck’s broke, and he has bleeding in his eyes or something.’

  ‘Petechial bleeds,’ Tia murmured. ‘Capillaries in the eye burst during strangulation or suffocation. My sister Juliet had to learn that stuff.’

  ‘Who the hell did it?’ Theo asked. ‘And where’s the child?’

  Jack shrugged before emitting a shuddering breath. ‘Tom Atherton took her to her grandma’s. He called here on his way back and told me. Tunstall was seen walking along the lane with a very tall, well-built man with a black beard and a rolled newspaper under his arm. They were chatting.’

  ‘And Mrs Tunstall?’ Theo asked.

  ‘In bed, drunk as a rabid skunk, never heard a thing.’

  Theo picked up the phone and got through to Welfare. ‘Emily Garner, please.’ He waited, fingers tapping on the surface of his desk. ‘Emily? Theo Quinn here. You visited the Tunstalls today. Yes, yes. No, it’s not about that. No, it won’t be happening, because Miles Tunstall’s dead. Dead, that is what I said.’ He paused and put his spare hand over the mouthpiece. ‘Tia, make Jack some hot tea, milk and sugar the way you heathen English take it.’

  Tia left the two men and went to the staffroom. Life in Liverpool was certainly exciting and not always in a good way.

  ‘Have you calmed down?’ Theo said into the phone. ‘Just listen, please, Emily. Did you notice a tall man, black beard, with a newspaper under his arm?’ He paused. ‘I see. He was reading the paper. Was he on Ivy Lane? Right. Would you know him again? OK. Get to the police station and tell them what you saw. Thank you.’ He replaced the receiver. ‘Who witnessed the two men together, Jack?’

  ‘Nancy or Tom Atherton, not sure which. We don’t need to get the house raided now, do we?’

  ‘Small consolation. Who the hell killed him, Jack?’

  ‘Not me. My legs are hardly strong enough for dominoes today, never mind murder.’

  ‘You know we should tell the authority about your angina, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes. Oh, do what you have to do. I’ll get an allotment and die in the potting shed like all the other owld codgers.’

  Theo shook his head. ‘We’ll think about that later. Right now, we have a dead man whose house was going to be raided by cops in a few days. I’ve already told the police of the plan, and they were happy to cooperate. Did he have enemies?’

  Jack snorted. ‘He got battered regular in the Scotland Road pubs. There was Flo’s brother for a start.’

  ‘Flo?’

  ‘Sadie had her meetings downstairs, and Flo had hers in the room above. Tunstall paid them both pennies and pocketed most of their earnings himself. And he battered that kiddy. So it could have been Flo’s brother or his mates, or it might have been somebody sticking up for Rosie. Nobody liked Miles Tunstall.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘But I don’t know any big men with beards round here. There’s a few with moustaches, and most of them are men, but beards? No. The only beards I remember were white and on the chins of old merchant seamen. I’m at a loss here, Theo.’

  Tia entered with a tray bearing three mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits.

  ‘Thank you,’ Theo said.

  ‘Are you feeling better, Jack?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s slight angina,’ he replied, emphasizing the middle word.

  ‘I’m getting you another cleaner,’ Theo said.

  ‘They won’t pay another . . .’ Jack’s voice died when the boss raised a hand and ordered him to be quiet.

  ‘The cleaner will be paid.’ Theo picked up his cup. ‘You’re a quick learner, Miss Bellamy. Tea the American way, no milk.’

  Tia looked at him sternly. ‘Bloody colonials,’ she said. ‘Jack, have a semi-sweet biscuit. A few days ago, I spoke on the telephone to Juliet, my baby sister, who’s a nurse. Cut down sugars and fats and take gentle exercise. You need more help here at work. And no smoking.’

  ‘Might as well cut me bloody throat,’ the caretaker moaned.

  ‘Do as she says, or I’ll cut it for you.’ Theo’s tone was serious, though he raised an eyebrow as he spoke. ‘We don’t wanna lose you.’

  ‘Colonials,’ Tia repeated. ‘Then we wonder why our children can’t spell. If they deliver aloominum instead of aluminium, it will be your fault.’

  Theo ignored her. ‘Go home, Jack. This place has remained standing for decades – well, apart from when your predecessor was killed. It won’t collapse if you take a couple of days off. I’ll lock up.’

  He looked at Tia. ‘I might employ Maggie Stone. Rosie must be made to feel secure. She can stay with her grandmother while the cleaning’s done after school, because that child needs to develop a close relationship with an adult. I’m afraid Sadie Tunstall’s drowning in drink, so she’s hardly going to fill that role.’

  Jack stood up. ‘Sadie’s still the little girl’s mother, Theo.’

  ‘I’m aware of that. But I’m hoping to get our welfare officer to assist in taking Rosie away from that house and into Maggie’s care. An alcoholic mother can mean an alcoholic daughter in the fullness of time.’ He drummed his fingers on the table again. ‘They’re sure he’s dead, Jack?’

  ‘Just a bit dead, yes. His neck’s broke. Put it this way, he’d be no good in a football match unless they propped him up and used him as a goalpost. I think I’ll go home.’ Af
ter placing his mug on the tray, he said, ‘Ta-ra, kids,’ and left.

  Tia spilled a word into the uncomfortable silence that divided the remaining two of them. ‘Murder,’ she whispered.

  ‘Yes.’ He walked towards the door and pressed the bell to mark the end of today’s school. ‘He was hated. The police know that the Athertons, Roy Duckworth, Jack and I wanted the place raided on Friday. We left Maggie’s name out of it, since she’s Rosie’s grandmother. I have an alibi, as do Jack and Roy – he will have been at work. As for Tom and Nancy, they barely have the energy to scrape the skin off custard. They won’t be suspects.’

  She returned to her seat. ‘It might have been a false beard on the tall man. They’re used all the time on stage, and there’ll be a theatrical costumier somewhere in the city.’

  ‘You think of everything, don’t you, Tia?’

  I think of you often. Sometimes, I want to run away from the torment, because this can’t be love, not in so short a time. It’s lust, that’s all. ‘No, I don’t think of everything. I say what I know, Mr Quinn.’

  He nodded thoughtfully. Mr Quinn, his full and formal title, meant he was in trouble. This was role reversal, because Myrtle Street was his school, not hers. She was an arrogant broad, and yet . . . ‘I must go to the police station after I lock the school,’ he said. ‘And I have to make sure that Rosie’s settled with her grandmother. I may see you later.’ He stalked out of the room, sent the cleaners home and sat on a bench in the hall, elbows on knees, head in hands.

  ‘Teddy?’

  Shit, she’s followed me. He raised his head. ‘What?’

  ‘Will you come up later for a meal?’

  ‘I doubt I’ll be able to eat.’

  ‘Bring some body parts, and I’ll cook them.’

  ‘Spleen and chips? No thanks.’

  ‘Have you nothing else?’

  He almost smiled. ‘Two big toes, about a pound of tripe and a kidney.’

  ‘Tripe?’ She raised an eyebrow.

  ‘It’s stomach. You cook it real slow with onion and white sauce.’

  ‘You are disgusting.’ She took his hands and pulled him to his feet. Her breathing altered slightly. Had he felt the bolt of lightning that had travelled along her arms? ‘I’ll go now,’ she said. ‘See you later.’

  He watched as she walked away. Wearing high heels today, she almost matched him in height. She probably wore them deliberately; it would be a power thing. The damned woman was burning through his resolve, his curriculum, his rules and, he had to admit, through his hitherto chilled and deliberately desensitized heart. She was causing him to suffer sleepless nights, disturbing dreams if or when he did drop off, and a great deal of soul-searching.

  He checked the boiler room, classrooms, staffroom, cloakrooms and lavatories before securing the building. After locking up the prefabricated classrooms, he climbed into his car and drove away. On Clementine Street, he parked his car and knocked on Maggie’s door. Rosie opened it.

  ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘And how are you today, little lady?’

  ‘Is my mammy all right, Mr Quinn?’

  ‘I believe so.’

  Maggie appeared, a tea towel in one hand, a plate in the other. ‘Rosie, you go and set the kitchen table.’ She waited till the child had gone through to the rear of the house. ‘Sadie’s coming to stay here,’ she mouthed. ‘I’ll try my best, but she won’t stop drinking, I’m sure. Come in.’

  The house was shabby, poorly decorated and scrupulously clean. He got straight to the point. ‘I want you to work for me, Maggie. Give up your other job and clean my school. You may also want to look after my flat and Miss Bellamy’s – we live in the same building.’

  She sank into a chair. ‘But you’ve got two school cleaners; Jack told me.’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, we have two at Myrtle Street, that’s correct.’

  ‘The corporation won’t pay any more. I know, because I’ve applied.’

  ‘I’ll be paying you myself.’ He raised a hand when she opened her mouth to speak. ‘Maggie, I have two jobs. I have the school and another source of income. Miss Bellamy and I can pay you for keeping the flats clean, and I shall pay you for working at the school. Just don’t tell the other cleaners.’

  She swallowed. ‘What’s your other job?’

  ‘One I do from home; that’s all you need to know.’

  ‘Oh.’ Maggie smiled for what felt like the first time in hours. ‘How much?’

  ‘We’ll work that out. You’ll be well paid. Three after-school sessions, and a full day at the flats. Rosie will want for nothing.’

  Her face changed, and she covered it with the tea towel. Unused to generosity, she wept behind the barrier of cloth.

  ‘Don’t cry, Maggie. I’ll look after you and Rosie, and I’m sure Miss Bellamy will help. She’s still only voluntary, but she’s got her fingers in more pies than Simple Simon.’ He bent over her. ‘Sometimes, she makes me feel that she’s the boss. She put me in detention today for misbehaving in Miss Ellis’s class.’

  The cloth was removed in a second. ‘No!’

  He nodded. ‘Gentry, you see. She’s a product of the best girls’ school in England and damned cheeky with it.’

  ‘You like her.’

  He nodded. ‘She’s brilliant, and Rosie will be in her class.’

  ‘Good.’

  Theo made for the door. ‘Bye, Rosie,’ he called.

  The child arrived at the doorway to the kitchen. ‘Is he really dead?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, Rosie.’

  She turned to her grandmother. ‘Nana, are we having the yellow cups and saucers or the flowery ones?’

  ‘Yellow, sweetheart. The flowered ones are for posh. Your granddad bought them for me years back.’

  ‘He’s dead, too,’ the child informed her soon-to-be head teacher.

  As he left the house, Theo thought about Rosie’s almost non-reaction. This was how children became hardened; this was how delinquents were created. He allowed himself a moment to consider his own past, his rebellion, the pain he had internalized until it had broken out like a rash on his soul, his shattered heart, his psyche. Stop this, Theo. You lashed out, but you pulled yourself together and got out of the hellhole. What you saw, what you heard . . . No. It’s over. The smoke has cleared and the screams have stopped. And you are on your way to an English police station, so pull yourself together.

  Five

  Ropers Park had become Roped-Off Park, a crime scene, a no-go area guarded by over-sized constables with unsmiling faces and shiny shoes. The Lady Streets had been invaded by a plague of policemen who hovered like massive bluebottles as they questioned people for the second or third time. Did they know a tall man with a black beard and a newspaper? Who had a grudge against Tunstall? Did they know Tunstall? Where had they been at the time of the murder?

  The force had even arrived at the school, and its headmaster was not best pleased. A school needed to have a rhythm, and children should be warned if their day was about to be disturbed, but this was murder, and murder was a serious business. ‘Just don’t frighten them,’ he told the sergeant in charge. ‘After all, they’re very young and impressionable.’ He was glad to go home when the working day ended.

  Tia looked through her kitchen window. Theo was sitting in the rear garden with his body language giving out the Do Not Disturb message, arms folded across his chest, head leaning back against the deckchair, eyelids lowered, knees together, feet keeping close company with each other. He looked about as relaxed as a man positioned at the business end of a loaded gun, so Tia wasn’t fooled. Within days of seeing Theodore Quinn at work and living above him, she had come to know him well. Why? Because she liked him. Keep it at liking, Tia. For God’s sake, don’t let it happen.

  He opened his eyes, and she stepped away from the window immediately. Did he see me? Does it matter? Because stuff like this doesn’t move in one direction only. Like two weather fronts, we have collided and caused a maelstrom. He likes me, too,
but there’s something; a part of him isn’t always open for business, which is why I must slow down. Yet he’s so good with the children and the staff, though his moods seem to change so suddenly. Is there a chance he might be crackers?

  She tackled her shepherd’s pie; if she had to force-feed him, she would do just that. The man was in shock, so food was probably off his list tonight. Having gone innovative again, she wondered whether he would like her dash of nutmeg, her teaspoon of soured cream and the bouquet garni she must remember to remove before serving. Salad dressing, toss the salad around a bit, smooth the potato over the pie, plough the surface with a fork and shove the lot under the grill. Except for the salad . . . phew. It was a warm evening.

  After a quick, cold-water wash in the bathroom, she descended the stairs and turned left for the back garden. Placing a little finger at each corner of her mouth, she produced a whistle that had confused many hockey teams, a netball coach and, on one occasion, even a policeman, who had whistled back before searching for a non-existent colleague.

  Theo opened an eye. ‘What?’ He was not impressed by the whistle; he’d heard it before when she’d been practising playtime supervision. ‘What?’ he repeated.

  ‘I’ve cooked a meal.’ She awarded him a winsome smile, one she reserved for special people.

  ‘Oh. You expecting the Congressional Medal of Honor? Purple Heart? Round of applause?’

  ‘An OBE and an appetite will suffice. Come on, Teddy. You must eat.’

  He stood, folded his deckchair and put it in the shed before following her upstairs. She was a determined type and, yes, she was getting on his nerves. You knew she’d get on your nerves, Theo. She’s beautiful, elegant, common as muck in her own endearing way and, above all, a fusspot, as the English say. ‘I’m not hungry,’ he told her as he stood at her table, pouring iced water into one of the tall glasses. ‘Murder seems to suppress the appetite.’

  ‘Did you have lunch?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes.’ How the hell did she manage to make the most ordinary questions sound provocative?

  ‘And since then, a nasty, child-beating, wife-pimping toad has been killed within a few hundred yards of your school.’ She dished salad onto his side plate. ‘I’m not God,’ she continued, ‘so I can’t judge, yet Mr Tunstall’s character sounds rather less than charming. No one has a good word to say about him. The world is probably cleaner without him.’