Queen of the Mersey (44 page)

And there was, of course, the broken arm. The fact that Queenie, so rich and smart, so lovely, shared precisely the same memories as her mother, made the shame ooze like treacle through Agnes’s veins.

Her daughter had only provided all this stuff through the goodness of her heart.

‘The best thing you ever did for me, Mam, was go away,’ she’d said.

She would never see Queenie again, of that she was convinced. She would never get the chance to apologise. Agnes lit a cigarette and sank into the settee.

Never had she envisaged ending up in such opulent surroundings. And never before had she felt so wretched and so alone.

‘I suppose,’ Queenie said later the same day, ‘I should thank you for everything you’ve done for my mother. But I didn’t ask you to do it, Theo. There are millions of women, far more deserving, that you could have spent your money on.’

‘She kept asking for you. Roy Burrows said she thought the house with the flat was yours, that she was moving in with you.’

‘Ugh!’ Queenie shuddered delicately. ‘Hell could freeze over before I’d live with her.’

Theo looked at her strangely. ‘You certainly know how to bear a grudge, darling.

Remind me never to get on your wrong side.’

Queenie lost her temper. She’d been losing her temper a lot since they got back from Kythira. The holiday had been very unsettling. ‘Stop saying things like that,’ she cried. ‘Unlike you, I’m not a saint. I can’t suddenly feel love for a woman who doesn’t know the meaning of the word. She hated me, she told me so enough times.’ Theo opened his mouth to speak and she stamped her foot. ‘And please don’t say, “But she’s your mother, Queenie,” as if that made an iota of difference. If it hadn’t been for Laura, God knows how I would have ended up. In the poor house, begging on the streets, and if my mother had known, she wouldn’t have given a damn.’

‘Isn’t Laura coming to dinner tonight?’ He must have decided it was wise to change the subject.

‘Yes, and Vera.’

‘I thought they weren’t speaking.’

‘They will be by the time dinner’s over,’ Queenie said grimly.

Theo wouldn’t be there for dinner. Tonight was the Freddy’s Christmas party and he always put in an appearance. These days, he went alone, his unwilling family no longer forced to accompany him, and Queenie equally reluctant, but only because she would imagine everyone looking at her, nudging each other, telling the new staff, if they didn’t already know, that she was his ‘bit on the side’.

He left at seven, looking faintly like a Mafia Godfather in an evening suit and an over-large bow tie. When the door to the apartment opened, Queenie could hear music coming from the restaurant and thought wistfully how much she’d like to go with him, enter the room on his arm.

‘Laura’s here, darling,’ he shouted before closing the door.

‘I always feel as if I’m entering a time warp when I come here,’ Laura remarked when she entered the big living room with its heavy, brooding furniture and darkly patterned walls. ‘It feels very Victorian.’ She threw herself into a stiff, leather armchair. ‘What are we having to eat? I bet it’s not something you made yourself.’

Queenie laughed. ‘It’s Christmas dinner, actually, from the restaurant; turkey, stuffing, roast potatoes, all the usual, followed by Christmas pud.’

‘Yum, yum. I’m starving.’

‘Would you like wine or sherry now?’

‘Wine, please. White. I don’t know if you’re supposed to have white with Christmas dinner. If not, I don’t care.’

Queenie went into the kitchen. She was pouring the wine when she heard the doorbell ring. It must be Vera. ‘Will you see who that is, please?’ she called.

She poured a glass of sweet sherry, Vera’s favourite. When she returned, the two women were weeping in each other’s arms and she clucked with satisfaction. It was what she’d hoped would happen when they came face to face.

‘I’ve missed you so much,’ Vera sobbed.

‘And I’ve missed you,’ sniffed Laura.

‘How’s your Hester? Oh, I was so sorry about what happened.’

‘Me too. As for Hester, she’s better than she was, but I’m not sure if she’ll ever get over it. What about Mary?’

‘She’s as miserable as sin, but as I said to her, “You made your bed, girl, so you’ll just have to lie on it.” As for Duncan, he seems the most miserable of all. At least the girls have got their families around. He hasn’t got a friend in the world.’

‘I brought him and Mary presents from Kythira. He seemed pathetically pleased,’

Queenie remarked. She put the drinks down. ‘Vera, I’ve brought you sherry and, Laura, here’s your wine. I’ll get dinner in a minute.’ She sighed with pleasure, relieved her friends had made up in time for Christmas, and looking forward to a good old jangle over the meal.

Chapter 15

It was the worst Christmas of Mary’s life. She only received two cards; one from Queenie, the other from Mam. Duncan got one signed by his mam and sisters, but not by his dad who didn’t believe in such things. She’d no idea if he’d told them about her, about the baby, and that he wasn’t going to marry Hester.

The mantelpiece looked dead miserable with just three cards, so she’d stuffed them in a drawer. Her brothers still weren’t speaking to her and nor were the Olivers. It was the first time since they were little that she and Hester hadn’t spent Christmas together. They’d always gone to loads of dances – she particularly missed the one on New Year’s Eve in St George’s Hall.

Mary crammed another chocolate in her mouth. It was Turkish Delight, one of her favourites, but she wouldn’t have cared if it was a hated nut praline so long as it was covered in chocolate, preferably milk. Perhaps she should take up smoking instead. At least ciggies wouldn’t make her fat and give her spots.

She wondered what to give Duncan for tea that night. Something nice, a casserole of some sort, or liver and bacon with mashed potatoes, which was his favourite.

He hadn’t said it was his favourite because they hardly spoke to each other, but he always ate it faster than anything else she made. The only good thing about Christmas had been the food – and the drink. Duncan had spent most of the time in a drunken haze while she stuffed herself with chocolates, thinking about the house in Glover Street, which would be bursting at the seams whatever the time of day. Mam hadn’t managed to come and see them until New Year’s Eve. ‘Lord Almighty, girl,’ she’d puffed, ‘this last fortnight, it’s been like living in the middle of Lime Street station. This is the first free minute I’ve had to get away. Where’s Duncan?’ She tried hard to be nice to Duncan, but the trying showed.

‘At the pub.’

‘You should’ve gone with him, luv. It’d’ve got you out the house for an hour or so.’

‘I didn’t want to, Mam. Anyroad, if I’d gone, I wouldn’t have been in when you came, would I?’ The truth was, Duncan hadn’t asked. He went to the pub most nights, to escape from her and the tragedy their lives had become.

She decided to do liver and bacon for tea. It was Duncan’s first day back at school after the holiday. He’d looked extra-miserable when he’d gone this morning.

Mary sighed, put on her hat and coat, and walked to the South Road shops. There was half an apple pie in the fridge, which she’d warm up for afters with custard. She’d discovered she quite liked cooking. It was said that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, but she didn’t think that would apply to Duncan whose heart already belonged to someone else.

Things had been bad enough before, but over Christmas, Duncan thought he could quite easily go mad. Months ago, he’d been invited to stay at the Olivers’ over the holiday. The contrast between what could have been, and what was, struck him like a blow every time he thought about it.

Christmas morning, he honestly felt like killing himself when he woke up on the settee and considered the day ahead. He lay there, imagining himself at the Olivers’, kissing Hester under the mistletoe when he gave her her present. He’d intended getting presents for everyone, had even bought one – a leather-bound volume of Shakespeare’s plays for Gus. It was around somewhere.

He tortured himself, thinking about dinner, wearing a paper hat, pulling crackers. It would have been his first real Christmas and, what’s more, would have been spent with the woman he loved. Instead, he was spending it with Mary, for whom he felt nothing at all.

There were noises in the kitchen. Mary was up. A few minutes later, she came in with a cup of tea. They looked at each other. Neither felt inclined to wish the other Merry Christmas. Mary merely nodded. ‘Breakfast will be ready in a minute.’

He’d say this much for her, she looked after him well. She washed his clothes, ironed them perfectly, kept the flat clean, prepared exceptionally tasty meals.

His lips twisted bitterly. She was the perfect wife in every way but one; she wasn’t Hester. He’d been expecting histrionics, rows, accusations of blame once they were living together, but there’d been nothing of the sort. He guessed she felt as responsible as he did for the position they were in.

‘You’re seriously overweight,’ the woman doctor said at the end of January when Mary climbed on to the scales in the pre-natal clinic. ‘You’ve put on more than a stone since December, two and a half stone since you first came.’ She gave Mary a severe look. ‘You’re only twenty, you’re not very tall. Do you want to lose your figure completely at your age? You’ll find it hard, caring for a young baby, when you’ve got so much fat on you.’

‘I’ve got a weakness for chocolate,’ Mary confessed.

‘Ah, and so that accounts for the awful skin. I suggest you get a weakness for apples or something equally healthy. Give the chocolate a miss from now on.’

Mary didn’t answer. She wasn’t all that bothered if she got fat. She’d always been a fraction plump, but it was an endearing, cuddly plump, or so she’d been told. What point was there in staying attractive for a husband who didn’t love you and never would? She’d far sooner gorge on a box of Cadbury’s Milk Tray than eat a single apple. The afternoons were the worst, when the housework and the shopping had been done and she was left to her own devices, to look out of the window at the flat, deserted sands, the grey, leaden waters of the Mersey, the occasional lonely ship sailing past, and to think about the fine old mess she’d made of her life.

It was Duncan who made her look at things in an entirely different way – she doubted if he’d noticed how fat she was, or that her face was full of spots –

but he came home from school one day in January with a strange look on his face; thoughtful and determined.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said the minute he was in. ‘After the baby’s born, it’d probably be best for both of us if I went home, back to Scotland and my family.

I’ll send you a weekly allowance and you can either stay here, or live with your mother. In fact, Vera could look after the baby and you could go to work. If you like, we’ll get divorced. It’s up to you. I’ll never get married again.’

‘What about Hester?’

Duncan shrugged and said simply, ‘Do you think she’d have me now?’

‘Not really.’ After a week spent in Paris with Queenie, Hester was now in California, Hollywood, to be precise, where Steven Vandos was making a film and had offered to find her accommodation and a job. When Mary heard, she’d felt green with envy. Trust Hester to emerge from the mess on top.

‘What do you say?’ Duncan asked.

‘Would you stay if I wanted you to?’ She just wondered.

‘No, but I’d sooner leave knowing you agree that we’d both be better off without each other.’

‘You’re right,’ she said with a sigh. ‘We would.’

‘Right then.’ He nodded grimly. ‘Tomorrow, I’ll tell the headmaster I’ll be leaving at the end of term. You’re supposed to give a whole term’s notice, but he’ll probably be too glad to get rid of me to mind. I haven’t been much of a teacher over the last few months. I’ll hang around for a couple of weeks after the baby’s born, make sure everything’s all right. What date is it due?’

‘The fifteenth of April.’

‘Right then,’ he said again. ‘I’ll leave on the first of May.’ He smiled for the first time since they’d got married, but it wasn’t a very happy smile. ‘I’m glad that’s sorted out.’

The more Mary thought about the idea, the more she liked it. The day they’d got married, a photographer from the Bootle Times had been hanging around the registry office and there’d been a picture in the paper with their names underneath for all the world to see. If she went back to Glover Street with a baby, no one would think there was anything funny about it. She’d tell people she and Duncan hadn’t hit it off. She could go back to work at Freddy’s, make new friends, go dancing. And if she and Duncan divorced, she could even get married again. All of a sudden, life seemed worth living. There was a reason to stay attractive. As from tomorrow, she’d cut out the chocolates, go for walks, do exercises, and eat apples by the dozen.

Now that they knew they weren’t stuck with each other until the end of time, they found it easier to talk.

‘What will you do with yourself in Scotland?’ Mary asked after tea.

‘Teach, I suppose.’ He didn’t look exactly pleased about it. She remembered Hester saying his father was very strict and bullied his mother terribly. His sisters couldn’t wait to get married and leave home.

‘Why don’t you do something more exciting?’

He closed his eyes momentarily and his face wore an expression of utter weariness. ‘I want peace, not excitement.’

‘I can’t wait to go dancing again.’

‘You’ve been very good, Mary,’ he said, looking at her directly. ‘It’s been hard for you, hasn’t it? You must miss your old life badly, but you’ve never shown it. You’ll make someone a fine wife one of these days.’

‘And you’ll make someone a fine husband. I’m just sorry it wasn’t Hester.’

He didn’t go out that night, but sat at the table correcting a pile of exercise books. When had he done them before? she wondered. It must have been when he got back from the pub when he wasn’t exactly sober.

At ten o’clock, she made cocoa and a sandwich. Duncan stretched his arms and took them gratefully. ‘I think I’ll sleep well tonight for the first time in ages.’