A Liverpool Song (55 page)

‘Strangely quiet after her outburst.’ He told her about Helen’s little adventure. ‘She woke him. They’d failed to do that. In fact, they had to electrocute him
twice before we got here. But he’s in the best hands with your hawk-eyed father watching over him. I can’t leave her, darling.’

‘I know that. Get back to her. I’ll phone Sofia and try to reassure her.’

‘And Anya, too, Kate. She isn’t here.’ He paused. ‘Look, if she’s with Sofia and if she agrees, send a taxi to bring her, then she can stay with Helen, and I can do
my job in the morning. I want to face that creepy lawyer from day one, if possible. Try to get Anya, and I’ll pay the fare, and you won’t need to contact anyone from the office. OK?
Text me. I’ll keep the phone on silent in my hand, so I’ll feel the vibration if you send a message.’

He returned to Helen, who remained in a world of her own. She didn’t want coffee, tea, water or words of comfort. When he asked if there was anything at all he might do, her answer
surprised him.

She turned and looked directly at him for the first time. ‘All I want is my mother,’ she said, ‘and even a clever lawyer like you can’t bring her back. But at times like
this, only my mother could help. She was . . . she was so knowing, you see.’ And Helen withdrew once more into her trance-like state.

His phone buzzed. Anya was on her way. A huge clock advised him that if the little Polish lady arrived soon, he could get six or seven hours of sleep before the alarm sounded. It had been a long
day. He’d wrapped up a case in the morning before immersing himself in the huge brief for tomorrow, which would soon be today.

One of the items he hated most in the world was a bent lawyer, especially a crook who thought himself clever enough to turn the tables on an innocent client. Richard would bury the solicitor and
pour concrete on the grave.
Be all right, Pope. Andrew, show them how best to pin him back together.

Upstairs, Andrew wondered how much more Daniel’s poor body could take. A collapsed lung and a ruined spleen had been dealt with, and the time had arrived when the putting
together of smashed limbs was being undertaken. It was like doing a jigsaw with some bits missing, so the gel-like, hard-setting substance for which Andrew had received his OBE was very much in
demand.

Together with the main surgeon and his team, he could only advise, as this patient was related to him. Using magnification, pieces of a shattered and useless rib together with bone stolen from a
femur, Tom Howard, a very good bone man, began the process of reconstruction. Andrew acted as a second pair of eyes and, over a period of more than five hours, he watched and guided his fellows
through several intricate and delicate processes.

‘Thanks,’ Tom Howard said more than once.

‘There’ll be scarring, but his spine’s looking good,’ was Andrew’s opinion.

The foot was repositioned in its proper place of residence. This was the most threatened part of the body, since blood supply to the extremity had been compromised for several hours despite
early reinstatement of some flow. ‘He’ll limp,’ Andrew said.

‘He’ll live,’ was Tom’s answer. ‘Problem was, according to police, that the dead boy came head-on, but slightly over to the driver’s side, and this poor
bugger was the driver. But he’s fit, I’ll give him that. His legs took some knocks.’

They stood back and surveyed their handiwork. Daniel’s arm and legs looked like patchwork quilts, stitches everywhere and their surfaces displaying many shades from black through purple
and red with the odd patch of Caucasian skin colour doing its best to shine among all the devastation.

A nurse wiped Howard’s damp forehead.

‘Take him down to ICU,’ Tom Howard said. ‘Keep him wired, of course, and get one nurse to sit full-time with him. And well done, you lot. Andrew, I can’t thank you
enough.’

‘Yes, you can. You used what I call my double-glazing putty, and that’s thanks enough.’

When his scrubs were discarded and after a shower, Andrew felt his age for the first time ever. Anya was right; he was old. He saw more grey in his hair and two dark patches under his eyes. That
was when he looked away from the mirror and at his watch. He’d counted five hours, but another three had passed during the patching up of bone and blood vessels. ‘You were right to
quit, me owld fruit. You’ve had enough of that flaming malarkey.’

He took the lift down to A and E, where Anya squealed when she saw him. ‘You did it,’ she cried. ‘Elena gone to look at him through window of ICU, I think she say. Now, no
worry about colly-sterole, because—’

‘Cholesterol.’

‘Yes. One time, you need protein and fat. This is the one time.’

She supervised him while he ate his way through a full English breakfast. ‘I had mine before,’ she told him. ‘But your Helen – my Elena – she eat nothing. One cup
of tea, one bite of toast, and her face grey. We take her home, Andrew.’

‘Will she come?’

Anya shrugged. ‘No idea in my head. But she talk to me about needing her mother, so I said I pretend be her mother, and she pour her feelings. She has been mixed up, poor girl, loving him,
needing him, hating him, divorcing him.’

‘She stayed away because of the children,’ he said. ‘If the marriage folded again in a few years, they would be old enough to suffer. Always, she puts Sarah and Cassie
first.’

‘She does right thing, Andrew. But I think all children should know their father even if marriage ends.’

‘Absolutely.’

This was not the time. And Anya had decided that she would not, could not do alone what needed to be done. She would be there with Eva, but neither woman should take the full weight of what must
happen. Andrew looked so tired, too exhausted to face further shocks. ‘Now, go and get Elena. We take her home, she has bath, changes clothes, comes back with Sofia if she wishes. You, Eva
and I will care for the children. My daughter is very close with your daughter. But Elena must come home and eat. Helen, I mean. I say Elena because I have friend in Warsaw with that
name.’

Helen put up no resistance. She wanted to see her children, to hold their warm, whole bodies next to her, because she could not yet comfort Daniel, who remained sedated, post-operative and full
of painkillers. Just now, she could do little for him, but she needed Sarah and Cassie; she also needed sleep.

The drive homeward was silent until they reached Rosewood, when Helen spoke. ‘Dad, when he’s well enough, I want him to recuperate here in the function suite. We’ll need a
hospital bed, equipment to help him move, physiotherapy and round-the-clock nursing. I can pay for all that. When he’s mended, I’ll take him home.’

Andrew simply nodded. If Daniel’s career as a womanizer ended due to disability, it would have no real meaning. When he’d promised to quit travelling for the family business, that
idea had not been acceptable. But he had made some giant strides, Andrew reminded himself. And this final stride had almost killed him through no fault of his own.

Helen went upstairs to see her girls and Sofia. Andrew fell asleep on the sofa with his head on Anya’s lap. For some unfathomable reason, he felt at ease with her, as if he’d known
her all his life. She leaned back and dozed, because she, too, had suffered a long and wakeful night.

And this was just the beginning. For weeks, every member of the family, including Ian and Eliza, visited the stricken Daniel. At first, his recovery was painfully slow, but he eventually
regained some use of his arm, though his lower limbs remained plastered. Two further minor surgeries were required, but after six weeks he was discharged into the care of his wife and
father-in-law. Two nurses and a physiotherapist were employed, and all necessary equipment was hired. It was time for Daniel to get better.

Andrew’s house was fuller than ever. The only respite he enjoyed was on the beach with Storm or on the steps with Anya. Things had to improve soon, surely?

‘All will be good,’ Anya reassured him.

But first, something else had to be faced . . .

Helen nursed her husband from six every morning until two o’clock in the afternoon, so just two nurses were needed to fill in the remaining sixteen hours. She kept him
fed, watered, clean and medicated.

For both of them, this was a strangely romantic time. A new intimacy developed, since Daniel was forced to allow Helen access to a body over which, at the beginning, he had little control. As
his reconstructed arm healed, the exercises began. He learned to squeeze a soft ball of sponge, to hold a spoon, to feed himself.

More importantly, he learned how to talk to his wife, who had given up her career in order to care for him and their children. ‘Any regrets?’ he asked.

She served up a delicious smile. ‘This is my number one job, just as it always was. I regret what I did to your clothes and your wine, and I regret baulking at mediation. It took a
dreadful accident for me to bury my pride. I never stopped missing you.’

‘I’m a fool,’ he told her.

‘Yes, you are. Or you were. As for my position at the university, I’m sure something will come up eventually. Meanwhile, I shall have a shop to run until you’re properly up and
about.’

‘If I walk again.’

‘You will. I’ll make sure you do, even if I have to take a whip to you.’

‘Promises.’

‘Shut up, Danny-boy. You will walk. Tomorrow, your legs will be free of encumbrance. Then we work hard to build up muscle.’

‘If I have any left.’

‘You do. Dad said so.’

‘Then I suppose it must be true.’

She left him for a while. If Daniel needed her, he would text her on his mobile. Standing at the drawing-room window, Helen watched her dad kissing Anya. They were sitting close to each other on
the erosion steps while Storm renewed his argument with the Mersey. ‘Poor Dad’s waiting for us all to leave,’ she whispered.

The Eyes and Ears of the World entered. ‘You’re right,’ Eva said. ‘But she won’t marry him. You know how . . . metickerlous he is, wants everything right and
proper. But Helen, isn’t it great that he’s taken to Anya? Mary was a lovely, special woman, but he couldn’t carry on mourning like that.’

‘He loves Anya,’ was Helen’s reply. ‘And the sooner we’re out of his way, the better.’

‘Doc won’t see it like that. He’s very prag— what’s the word?’

‘Pragmatic. But they need their space, Eva.’

The older woman nodded. ‘They do, and they’ll get it. She loves him too, you know.’

Helen smiled broadly. ‘So she should. He’s wonderful.’

Eva retreated into the kitchen muttering, not quite under her breath, about that bloody dog, another towel and her best roasting tin, and people who had so little sense that they took in stray
animals.

Helen giggled. Nothing changed with Eva.

Then she continued to watch her father. As soon as Daniel’s legs lost their coverings and gained some strength, she would take him, Sofia and the girls back to the Wirral. The couple out
there looked so right together, and Anya was a kind woman who knew her own mind. In fact, she was a bit like Mum . . .

Eva, quieter now, was having a think. She left the house by the back door and crossed the road.

‘What’s she up to now?’ Helen wondered aloud. It was time for Daniel’s snack, so she left Eva to her fate. Dad wouldn’t like being interrupted. No one welcomed
interruption during courtship. Now, Daniel also needed his heels rubbed, so where was that new bottle of surgical spirit?

‘I need to borrow Anya for five minutes, Doc.’ Eva backed off. That flaming dog, seeing her out of context, decided to throw himself at her. He was wet, sandy and
over-enthusiastic. ‘Go away,’ she shrieked. ‘I’ve had enough.’

Andrew diverted the dog while Eva and Anya went into a huddle on the green. ‘I’m asking you about that Russian beetroot soup,’ Eva began.

‘Ah, you will need fresh—’

‘No. If Doc asks, we were talking soup. Right? Not that I’ll ever make it, because I don’t want beetroot on me tablecloths.’

‘If you say. So what is this?’

‘The other business that I asked you to help me with. Leave it. Things are different now, love. I didn’t realize you and he would end up a lot more than friends. Let me be the
messenger. I don’t want to spoil what’s between you and Doc. I mean it. Just keep your mouth shut and let me deal with it. OK?’

‘OK. When will this happen?’

Eva shrugged. ‘When the house is empty except for me and him. When that bloody dog’s out of sight and I can concentrate.’ She turned and walked back to the house. It had been
one of Mary’s last requests, so it had to be dealt with. And Eva would have to do it alone.

Anya watched her man as he threw a ball for the canine rascal. Mary had lived a lie, she supposed, but she’d done it for Andrew’s sake as well as her own. Man and dog were being
chased in by the turning flow. ‘Like Mersey, life has tides,’ she muttered softly. ‘And poor Eva must make big tsunami wave.’ Although they were closer, Anya and Andrew had
not yet made love. What he was about to learn might put him off women forever. She walked back to him.

‘What did News of the World want?’ he asked.

‘Recipe for borsch.’

‘God help us,’ he said. ‘Come on, dog. Let’s go home.’

Eva’s mobile rang. Up here, in Doc’s house, she always got a good signal. It was something to do with the river and the open sky, no buses in the way, no
motorbikes, few aeroplanes and just the odd ship. ‘Hello?’ she screamed. ‘Are you receiving me?’

‘Eva, I may have lost an eardrum.’

‘You what? Say again.’

‘It’s Ian. Lower your voice. The results are through.’

She gulped. ‘Eh? Is your satellite playing up, love?’

‘You were right.’

She sat down abruptly. Fortunately, she landed on the sofa. It was a weird feeling, because she’d always known the truth, but scientific proof underlined everything, didn’t it?
‘Well,’ she breathed. ‘I knew I was right, but this is really right, isn’t it? This is
right
right.’

‘Have they all gone?’

‘Yes, he’s on crutches now and doing well. His ankle will always be trouble, but he reckons he’s sexy with a limp. Yes, they’ve gone home, and I sent Anya off,
too.’