Liverpool Love Song (15 page)

Rex said he was very comfortable there and should have made the move years ago. He cooked meals for her and she found he was keen on curries, though she hadn’t realised that until recently. She spent the night with him quite often, and at other times he’d come to stay the night with her. At last he had a buyer for his flat and the sale was going through without a hitch. He told her he was happy and couldn’t ask for anything more.

As far as Helen was concerned, the one fly in the ointment was Marigold, who was now in the habit of calling round to see her without giving any warning. She’d come by bus and stay for meals. From time to time Helen had to tell her she had other plans made and offer to run her home. Today she arrived about eleven, in time to have coffee in the summerhouse.

‘You have a lovely house, and the garden is fantastic,’ she said, lying back on a lounger. ‘I need to find somewhere better to live. I wish you’d help me.’ That made Helen feel guilty. She wanted her house and garden to herself and so had put off doing anything for Marigold. ‘You’ve had a much better life than I’ve had.’

This was something she said from time to time, with envy clear in her voice. ‘You promised Gran you’d help me, but you haven’t.’

Helen felt the heat run up her cheeks. Marigold wasn’t usually so blunt. ‘I got social services to help with your rent,’ she told her, equally blunt. ‘You have enough to live on now.’

‘You know I’d like to move from that house. It’s too big for me on my own.’

‘There’s a block of small flats being built not far from you. Would you like us to take a look at those? See if—’

‘You know what I want, Helen. I’m getting old and I can’t do all the things I used to.’

‘Old? You keep telling me you’re only sixteen years older than I am. That’s sixty-two, not all that old.’

‘I need help.’ It was a cry from the heart.

The implication was clear. Marigold considered it Helen’s duty to look after her now.

‘The most sensible thing would be for me to come here and live with you.’

Helen bit at her lip. How could she keep saying no?

‘It’s the most economical thing to do.’

Helen stayed silent.

‘I am your mother.’

‘I know you are, Marigold, but somehow . . .’

‘You don’t love me.’ She made it a bitter accusation, her cheeks flushing with anger.

Helen found that too near the truth and could hardly get her words out. ‘It’s not that. I know it’ll only upset us if we go over and over it, but I find it hard to think of you as my mother. I was brought up to call you Marigold and regard you as my big sister. That’s permanently engraved on my mind.’

‘But you know differently now.’

Helen went on the offensive. ‘Yes, but what I don’t know is the first thing about my father. You’ve always refused to tell me anything about him.’

‘Mother thought that was the best thing for me. That I forget all about him.’

‘But what about me? You must have realised I’d be curious. You asked Gran about your father, and all the time I thought he was mine too that was all right. But suddenly I found he was my grandfather.’

‘You were too young to understand, only fourteen.’

‘I’m not too young now. I’m forty-six and you’ve never told me. I mean, what sort of a man was he? How did he earn his living? What happened that he didn’t marry you?’

Marigold’s face was flushed. ‘He was already married to someone else, so it wasn’t possible. He was a real rotter. Mother said I’d be better off without him.’

‘But I’m his daughter as well as yours. That could make me a bit of a rotter too, couldn’t it?’

‘Don’t be silly, Helen.’

‘You don’t understand. It’s something I need to know. He’s provided half my make-up and you’re the only person who can tell me about him.’

Marigold’s face was working with anger. Helen wasn’t going to let that stop her. ‘For you it was all over years ago, but for me it isn’t. Why won’t you talk about him?’

‘If that’s what I have to do to make you see where your duty lies, then damn it, I will.’ Marigold didn’t stop to take a breath; it all came out in a rush. ‘I worked for a small garment-making business, blouses mostly. His name was Harold Waters, he was my boss and twenty-five years older. He already had two children but I didn’t know about them at the time. He took advantage of me and I admit I was a fool to let him. He ruined my life and I’ve never forgiven him for what he did.’

Helen was shocked to find how wound up and intense she was.

‘Marigold, it happened forty-six years ago. You’ve had plenty of time to come to terms with it. You should have forgiven as well as forgotten.’

‘How could I? You were always there to remind me.’

That took Helen’s breath away. Marigold got up and rushed towards the house. ‘I can’t stay, I’m going home.’

Helen followed her. ‘But it’s lunchtime and you said the egg salad I made for us looked nice.’

‘No, I’m too upset now.’

At the back door, she turned, and Helen saw that her face was ravaged with tears. She said, ‘I’ll get the car out and run you home.’

‘No, don’t bother. I don’t want to trouble you for anything.’

‘Marigold!’

‘Just leave me alone. I’ll use your cloakroom and then go home on the bus. I’d rather.’

Helen went back to her summerhouse and had a little weep. What sort of a relationship was that to have with one’s mother? When she’d been in her teens she’d pleaded with both Marigold and Gran to tell her about her father, and though she’d learned his name at long last, it gave her no satisfaction. She said it aloud: ‘Harold Waters.’

Gran was right after all, he needed to be forgotten. Not that Marigold had forgotten him; she had all his details in the forefront of her mind. They’d been fermenting there for years, souring everything for her and for her family. Poor Marigold.

Rex had said he’d come to work in her garden this afternoon and she waited for him to arrive. As soon as she saw him unloading plants from his van, she rushed to tell him what Marigold had said to her.

‘You mustn’t let her upset you.’ Rex gave her a hug. ‘She’s very unhappy, we should feel sorry for her.’

‘We don’t get on,’ Helen agonised. ‘But this all came to a head because she wants to come and live here with me.’ She let out an impatient sigh. ‘Oh dear, what am I going to do about her?’

‘Helen love, only you can decide that.’

‘I know,’ she sighed.

‘I prescribe an hour or so of gardening for us,’ he said. ‘After that, I’d like you to come to my place and cook our dinner. I bought some fillet steak this morning.’

Helen was nodding. Rex knew what would make her forget her troubles.

‘And not just dinner. If you will, I’d like you to stay overnight with me.’ Rex had given her his shy smile and kissed her cheek.

‘Thank you,’ she said. He was a wall of comfort to her.

A day or two later, Rex was drinking tea in Helen’s kitchen when the phone rang in the hall.

She went to answer it. ‘Chloe, how are things with you?’ Hearing Chloe’s name spoken made him move to the kitchen door.

Helen looked up and smiled. ‘Lucy’s learned to walk,’ she told him. ‘She can do three steps without holding on.

‘I knew she wasn’t far off,’ she said into the phone. ‘It’s her first birthday next Friday, isn’t it? I’ve got her a teddy bear. Are you planning anything special?’ Rex watched Helen’s face while she listened.

‘Do bring her to see us that day, and the cake, of course. We’ll have a little party in the summerhouse. Well, just Rex and us. Yes, I’ll meet your train. You’ll come on the one that gets in at half ten as usual? Yes, look forward to seeing you. Take care, love.’

Helen’s face was all smiles as she came back to the kitchen. A visit from Chloe always cheered her up.

That night, Rex didn’t sleep well. Chloe was very much on his mind. He hadn’t yet proposed to Helen and he hoped that seeing Chloe again might help him to decide how much she really did mean to him. If she was an obsession he was getting over, he’d be able to devote himself to Helen.

The grass in her garden needed to be cut and Rex went to do it early in the morning before Chloe arrived. These days he brought his own sit-on lawnmower. He had several large gardens to look after and it saved him time and energy. But he didn’t start straight away; he had a little walk round to savour what he’d created and see what work was needed.

Now in May, Helen’s garden was looking its best. His favourite flower was the peony. There were few other plants that could provide a heady fragrance and such a marvellous display of colour. In his first years in this garden he’d planted a long bank of them shading from Pink Delight through to the deep rose of Gaye Lady to the black-red of Wilbur Wright. They were all in full flower and looked magnificent. Every year, Helen remarked on them.

He walked on to the pond. The water lilies that Helen had wanted were a magnificent sight, with flowers and leaves floating on the water. He’d put in several sorts of iris but they had all flowered and died back now.

Some animal life had arrived of its own accord, whirligig beetles, newts and pond-skaters. Helen had also wanted goldfish, so they’d chosen several varieties and they seemed to be thriving.

To start with, the pond had needed cleaning out several times. Recently Rex had been trying out various aerating plants to supply oxygen, and now he’d got the pond balanced so the water stayed clear.

He loved this part of the garden. The trees had grown and in some places provided a canopy of leaves overhead. It was cool and restful on a hot day like this. But he was idling instead of cutting the lawns. He walked back and started his mower. It was lovely to work outdoors in weather like this.

He was thinking about Chloe again, anticipating their meeting. The put-put of the mower engine was shutting out all other sounds. Suddenly he looked up and saw Marigold rushing towards him, waving and calling and clearly in great distress. He swung the mower round and drove towards her before shutting it off and jumping down.

‘Where’s Helen?’ she was calling. ‘Where is she?’

‘She’s gone into town to meet Chloe. She’s bringing Lucy over to see her today.’

Marigold burst into tears. She seemed to be losing weight, her face was stern and grey and her eyes were dark pools of unhappiness. She looked frightened, and it sent a shiver through him. ‘Has something upset you?’

‘Yes, I’ve had my purse stolen. I’ve lost all my money and my house keys. I can’t get back inside, but the thief can.’

‘That’s terrible. What happened?’

‘I was . . .’ She could hardly get the words out. ‘I was in the high street. Outside that big butcher’s shop, the one that sells cooked meats as well. I was looking in his window, wondering whether to buy mince again or get myself a pork chop. I was afraid it might be tough . . .’

‘Yes, but how was your purse—’

‘As I turned to go, a youth jolted into me. He didn’t say sorry or anything. When I came to pay for my half-pound of mince, I found my purse had gone.’

Rex took her by the arm and led her back towards the house. ‘Where was it?’

‘I had it in my shopping bag. It has a flap over it, it couldn’t be seen. I thought it would be safe there.’ Her voice rose in distress.

‘Have you informed the police?’

‘No, I didn’t know what to do . . .’

‘You must do that. Have you lost anything else, your chequebook?’

‘I don’t have one. But my pension book, yes, that’s gone too. And I hadn’t drawn my pension for this week. I was saving it to buy myself some new shoes.’

He led her to the back door. ‘It’s locked,’ she wept. ‘I tried it.’

‘Helen locks up when she goes out, but she leaves a key for me here.’ He lifted one of the plant pots on the patio and unlocked the door.

‘She’s trusting, isn’t she?’ Marigold’s tone had become frigid.

‘She thinks I might want to make myself a cup of tea. And right now, you need to use her phone to contact the police.’

He sat her down beside it, found the number in the book and dialled it. When he heard it ringing, he handed the phone to her. ‘Report what happened,’ he told her.

She still had trouble getting her words out. He went to the kitchen to make her a cup of tea. She sounded shocked and very much in need of it.

‘Jostled, yes. That did surprise me because . . . A young man, twenties I’d say.’ A note of anger crept in. ‘I didn’t notice, I didn’t think it was important. I didn’t realise at the time. I’ve lost over three pounds, all the money I had. The police station? I don’t know where that is. Yes. Yes, all right.’

She came unsteadily to the kitchen. When the tea was ready, Rex pushed the cup in front of her. ‘What did they say?’

‘They’ll send an officer round to take the details.’

‘Round here?’

‘No, to my house. Should I have told them I was here?’

‘When is he going to come?’

‘How should I know?’

Rex rang the number again and was told the officer would visit when he had time, possibly later today or tomorrow.

He was glad to hear Helen’s key in the front door, and then Chloe was standing in front of him, her lavender eyes smiling at him, more beautiful than ever. ‘Hello, Rex, long time no see. How are you?’

She was pleased to see him. Chloe put little Lucy to sit on the hall rug and he watched her pull herself to her feet on the umbrella stand.

‘She can walk round the furniture now, but she can move more quickly on all fours,’ Chloe told them.

Lucy took three wobbly steps and sat down with a bump. Rex picked her up. Her eyes, almost completely round and deep blue, stared straight up into his. He thought she was lovely as he led the way to the kitchen.

Marigold hadn’t moved; she was still in tears. Rex told them what had happened to her and they all sat round the kitchen table listening to her story.

‘He’s taken my purse, but that’s not the worst of it. He’s got my front-door key.’

‘I’ve still got mine,’ Helen said. ‘We can have another cut for you from that.’

‘But don’t you see?’ Marigold wept. ‘He can come in any time he wants to and take the rest of my things.’