A Mersey Mile (41 page)

Billy’s mother stood up. ‘What the hell’s he been up to this time?’

‘Jumping buses,’ was the reply. ‘Jumping on while they’re moving, jumping off while they’re moving. There’s a gang of these daft kids. I know how Chicago felt
during prohibition, because we need eyes in the backs of our heads. The conductors are sick to their wisdom teeth, and the drivers daren’t get any speed up in case a jumper dies. Everybody on
board will be late home, dinner dried up, wife as mad as a cat shut in the dustbin with next door’s poodle.’ He released the young offender. ‘One more time, Billy, and
you’re down the station for a caution.’

Billy, wearing a dark scowl and clothes that needed readjustment due to rough handling, tidied his outerwear. ‘There’s nothing else to do.’

Mavis bridled. She wasn’t a big woman, but she bridled well. ‘Constable Furness, there are other offences to be taken into consideration.’

‘Oh?’ Pete removed his helmet. ‘Such as?’

‘Fruit nicked from Paddy’s Market, a new collar for Daniel the spaniel – don’t know where the heck he got that—’

‘Spending money I saved,’ Billy shouted in eager self-defence.

‘Shut up,’ his mother ordered. ‘Drinking his dad’s beer, throwing stones at what’s left of bombed houses, getting stuck in one of the cellars and needing folk to
dig him out. Isn’t that trespassing? And giving cheek, too. You’ve no idea of what we have to put up with.’

‘Terrible,’ Polly said, fighting a giggle.

Pete scratched his head. ‘No wonder I’m losing hair, what with this daft hat and all the worry about bus jumpers and the like.’ He winked at Mavis. Her dreadful child was on
the mend, and that mattered more than any of the lad’s crimes.

Frank followed Pete Furness out of the cafe and took him into the doorway of Hattie’s shop. ‘We have a problem,’ he began. Without missing the slightest detail, he related the
almost incredible story of Elaine Lewis. ‘I don’t know how far she’ll go, Pete. There’s another chap involved now, a workmate who got dangerously close to her. She’s
crazy enough to follow me here when she finds out I’m not living in the flat. People on Rice Lane are walking about with their eyes on stalks, worried about anything from broken windows to
arson. She was there earlier, watching her mother and my mother in the shop. She won’t like that. She’ll think we’ve been talking about her.’

‘Is she paranoid?’

‘From what I’ve read, more narcissistic, thinks the sun shines out of her own belly button. I’ll get you a photograph. See, few would believe me, because she’s a
brilliant lawyer, beautiful, well dressed, too bloody perfect to be true.’ He paused. ‘I fear for her mother. Her mother’s always supported her, like most mothers do. If Elaine
thinks Christine’s stepped out of line . . . People often hurt or kill those they love and trust most.’

‘You shivered then, Frank.’

‘Yes, so would you if she set her sights on you. It’s a bit like hearing the purr of a big cat and waiting for it to change to a growl, then a lunge. She sees, she wants, she gets.
What worries me is what happens when she doesn’t get. Boiling anger? Retribution? Destruction?’

‘Bloody hell, Frank. Can’t you find a normal problem like pests leaping on and off buses? All I get from you is beaten kids, a murdering priest and a madwoman. And from your best
mate, Billy Blunt’s dreams.’

‘I know. It’s a hard life, eh?’

‘It is. Get back to your lass. She’s looking great.’

Frank nodded. ‘Call in on her in the morning when she’s heaving in the bathroom. She’s very noisy with it.’

‘She’s lovely, Frank.’

‘She is. I’ll go and tell her you said so.’

Christine came to a halt in Norma’s car, parking it as close as possible to the house. Elaine’s car was already here. For a few seconds, Christine sat still and
simply breathed. She had to become an actress, needed to carry on as if there was nothing bothering her, as if she’d been on an exciting journey of discovery with Norma Charleson. ‘Come
on,’ she urged herself. Norma had wanted to accompany her on the last short lap of the journey from Rice Lane, but, since that might have been judged by Elaine as unusual, Norma had been
decanted at Brookside.

When a degree of equilibrium had been achieved, Christine forced herself to become an excited child. She left the car, dashed to the house and threw open the front door. ‘Elaine?’
she called. ‘Elaine, come and look at my find.’

Several beats of time staggered by on weary feet. ‘Elaine?’

‘Coming.’ The younger woman descended the stairs slowly. ‘What?’ she asked.

‘I’ll need help,’ Christine gabbled. ‘It’s small, but solid.’

They walked to the boot of the car, and Elaine opened it. ‘Isn’t that a beautiful thing? It’s what Victorian ladies bought when engaged to marry, a sewing chest. The
pedestal’s hollow for larger items, and there are lots of compartments under the lid for buttons, threads and so forth.’

‘Nice inlay on the top,’ Elaine managed. ‘Where did you get it?’

‘Ah, I’ll tell you about that once we’re inside. It was quite an adventure.’

When the sewing table had been placed in a corner away from all windows, they straightened themselves and looked at it. ‘Better there,’ Christine said. ‘We don’t want the
wood bleached by sunlight.’

Elaine’s eyes slid sideways towards her mother. ‘Where were you? You’re always here when I get home.’

Christine almost stumbled at this first fence. ‘Darling, I have a life too, you know. You’ve been missing for many evenings and I’ve had to throw away good food twice.
We’re both free women.’

‘Are we?’

‘Yes, we are.’ Christine sat down; her legs felt weak. ‘Frank Charleson has opened a shop on Rice Lane – oh, but you know about it, don’t you?’

‘I did the conveyancing, yes.’

‘Well, there was an advertisement in the local newspapers with a photograph of Frank in the doorway. He called the business Aladdin’s Cave. Norma mustn’t have seen the advert,
or she would have said something. So I pretended we needed a small table for an empty corner, and managed to persuade Norma to come with me to look at the shop. She didn’t know I was taking
her to see Frank.’ Lying didn’t come easily, yet it had to be done. ‘I got them back together, Elaine.’

‘So that was your adventure?’

‘Well, yes. Norma was up in arms about his engagement and stopped talking to him. As you and I already know, he stormed off and left home. It was beginning to look as if they’d never
communicate again. We had a cup of tea in the upstairs flat, and they talked. She’s going to the wedding.’ Her beautiful daughter was not beautiful at present. That lovely face wore a
creased, angry expression.

Elaine placed herself in the chair opposite her mother’s. ‘What did they talk about?’

‘I didn’t ask.’

‘But you were there.’

Christine shrugged lightly. ‘No idea apart from the awkward greeting at the start. I took my tea downstairs and rooted about till I found this little gem.’

‘In the dark?’

‘What?’

Elaine blinked rapidly. ‘Er . . . I was there in my car. I’d been working on a will for a Rice Lane resident and was completing my notes. The lights were on upstairs, though not in
the shop. Days are short in October.’

A quick answer was required. ‘I was in the rear storeroom, Elaine. He keeps better pieces out of the public gaze, saves them for customers who want something special. When I went back
upstairs, the two of them were chatting as if nothing had been wrong. So I’m very pleased about that and about my lovely table.’

Elaine announced her intention to cook a meal, left the room and began to peel vegetables. Mum was nervous. She’d been chattering away like a monkey striving to be freed from its cage.
This had been one hell of a day. When questioned about the lighting in Frank’s shop, Mum had blinked rapidly. Mum knew. She knew the will was a lie, knew that Elaine had embarrassed herself
by throwing herself at Frank Charleson. ‘I’m seeing Bob Laithwaite from work, Mum. We’ve kept it quiet because his uncles don’t know yet,’ she called.

‘Isn’t he a partner?’ Christine asked.

‘Junior, yes.’ She wasn’t seeing him. He, too, had rejected her. ‘So that’s where I’ve been in the evenings.’

‘Right. Will you be bringing him home?’

‘Early days. I’m looking for another position, because having a relationship with someone in the same firm can be awkward.’

‘I suppose it might be, yes.’

Something in Mum’s tone failed to ring true. Elaine set the vegetables to cook and placed two chops under a slow grill. Right. The decision made itself. ‘There’s a flat in
town,’ she called. ‘It’s above some offices on Hope Street. The sale fell through during conveyancing, something to do with a mortgage. I think I’ll take a look at it and
grab it if it’s still available. Two bedrooms, bathroom, kitchen and a large living room. Time for me to set out on my own journey.’

She walked to the doorway, knife in her right hand. ‘I need my own place, Mum. I hope you understand.’

Christine swallowed a lump in her throat. She mistook it for sadness until she realized very suddenly that it tasted of relief. Carefully, she answered, ‘Well, I shall miss you.’

‘I’ll visit.’

‘I hope you do, dear. And bring your young man.’

‘If it works out, I shall do that, of course. It’s just that I’m not sure yet. He’s very keen, but I need to meet more people, don’t I? Like the old saying goes,
there are shoals of fish in the sea.’

The mother looked at the adult child, the perfect daughter. And she saw ice in the eyes, felt the chill on her own skin where Elaine’s gaze rested. ‘Don’t worry about me. As
long as I know you’re well and happy, I’ll be quite content.’

‘Good.’ She went to turn the chops. There was a hollow quality to her mother’s voice, as if the woman had switched to automatic. Was she lying? ‘Mum?’

‘Yes?’

‘Someone’s been following me. In fact, I think more than one person’s involved.’ Once again, she stood in the doorway, but the knife had been replaced by a tea towel.
‘Even though I’m working in litigation now, I’m scarcely dealing with society’s underbelly, since I don’t do criminal cases, so it won’t be hit men. I wonder who
would want to have me followed?’

Christine tutted. ‘I don’t like the idea of that. Who might it be? Does Mr Laithwaite want to find out whether you’re being unfaithful?’

‘I doubt it.’

Although her daughter’s eyes seemed to be boring into her head, Christine maintained her poise as best she could. ‘People look at you wherever you go, Elaine. You should be used to
it by now. I’ve told you before to get a portfolio together. Fashion modelling pays well, and you’d have another string to your bow even if you played on it just
occasionally.’

Deep in thought, the young woman returned to the kitchen. She should get out of Liverpool altogether, go to London where life was bigger, where a person could do exactly as she pleased without
being noticed. Yes, there were decisions to be made.

In theory, lunch was in the oven. In reality, Frank, very good with scrambled eggs, was trusting to luck. He had a book about it, so that should have helped. 1 tsp meant one
teaspoonful, while 1 tbsp was one tablespoonful. Hpd was heaped, and level was a full word, at least, so he’d done his best with lamb (cubed, with fat removed), onions (chopped, though not
too finely), carrots and potatoes (sliced thinly). Lancashire hotpot? He should have borrowed Cal.

It didn’t smell too pleasant, but perhaps it would improve given time and a good following wind. Running up and down the stairs all morning hadn’t helped, but customers came first.
Had he put salt in twice? The gravy on which the potatoes tried to remain afloat seemed a bit lumpy. ‘I’m a victim of my own success,’ he grumbled, removing Polly’s frilled
and flowery apron from his person.

The shop was doing well. People came for miles to furnish their houses with decent second-hand stuff, since he sold everything from sofas to cruets, but the job left little time for cooking.
When the shop was closed, he was often out delivering and collecting before going home to Polly. He worked seven days a week, so surely he could forgive himself for one failed hotpot?

Bob Laithwaite didn’t say much. He stepped into the flat, sniffed the air and declared that the aroma was interesting. ‘Different,’ he announced, ‘but definitely
interesting. Is there a chippy nearby?’

Frank nodded. ‘That’s the end of my new career, I’d guess. I’m no Mrs Beeton with her household hints and separate twelve eggs. Separate them from what? Each other? Their
mother?’

‘Yolk from white,’ Bob replied with mock seriousness.

‘Bloody clever clogs bloody lawyers. Come on, then, chips it is.’

So chips it was. With half an hour to spare after their meal, they sat with coffee in front of a crackling fire.

‘She’s scarpered,’ Bob said. ‘Her mother phoned in this morning to say that Elaine had disappeared in the night with all her clothing. Terrible state, the poor woman was
in. My uncles received a letter from Miss Lewis. Due to personal circumstances which she couldn’t disclose without involving others, she has left the area and will send a post office address
as soon as she is settled. She would be grateful for a reference. They’re upset. She was good at the job.’

The two men were strangely comfortable together, almost as if they were related in some way. ‘I’d prefer to know where she is,’ Frank said.

‘Same here. As long as her address isn’t my bed. She’s a rampant bloody nymphomaniac. And have you noticed her eyes?’

Frank nodded. ‘Cold. Almost dead. It’s like having a reptile in the room. She sucks the warmth out of all around her like a boa constrictor might. All that perfection stuff, never a
hair out of place, not a crease in her skirt – unbelievable. My fiancée looks like a bag of pretty rags until noon, though she is pregnant. But Polly sets no store by fashion or
neatness. She’s real. Elaine’s like something two-dimensional.’

Bob spluttered on a mouthful of coffee. ‘There speaks a man who’s never been used as a toy. Two-dimensional? Einstein’s theory of relativity would have been seriously deformed
if he’d had her to deal with. She treated me like some kind of wind-up doll or a wireless with the old battery needing a charge. If there’d been five of me, we’d all have been
busy for about a week. Like servicing an express train, it was. I ran out of coal and steam.’