Meet Me at the Pier Head (23 page)

‘He’s gone,’ Tia said. ‘Poor soul – he’s a good man, Teddy, but I just can’t love him. God knows I tried, even if only to drive my
father wild. Simon’s dad’s a Jew, lovely man, a well-respected family doctor. My father’s a bloody Nazi.’

‘Sounds like a charming chap.’

‘He was very good in post-war films, mostly RAF. The problem is that he’s remained stiff and stilted, because he thinks he knows it all, and he hates what he terms relaxed acting.
Realism isn’t for him, but the world has moved on while he stands still in the middle, rigid and posed. The only one who can gee him up is my mother, and she wants to fly solo from now on.
Juliet’s the only person who feels sorry for him.’

Rosie wandered in, her grandmother following. ‘We said prayers,’ the child said. ‘My mammy wanted to go to Jesus, but she got saved.’

Tia reached out a hand and was pleased when Rosie took it. Sadie was in a coma, and there was a possibility of brain damage due to oxygen deprivation. The new reception class teacher made a
sudden decision. ‘How would you like a holiday, Rosie? There’s this little house called Rose Cottage. It’s a bit of a mess, and we have to put buckets and bowls all over the place
when it rains. There are fields and woods, and there’s a village nearby with shops and a green where children play. Oh, and a duck pond with mallards on it. You could feed the
ducks.’

Rosie’s eyes were round. ‘Yes, but what about my mam?’

Maggie placed a hand on her granddaughter’s shoulder. ‘She’s asleep.’

‘Like you were asleep?’

‘No,’ Theo said. He believed in giving children the absolute truth. ‘Your nana had tired blood and needs more tests, but Mom is more ill, so she could be in hospital for some
time. She can’t even have visitors yet, so why not go to Kent with Miss Bellamy?’

Tia thought for a moment. ‘School finishes on Friday. Why don’t we all go, just for a few days? We can telephone the hospital every morning and ask about your mother, Rosie. And if
Bartle Hall’s empty, I can show you a terrific game of hide-and-seek.’ She turned to look at Theo. ‘Shall we try to borrow a four-seater with a luggage rack?’

He stared hard at her. No matter what, Madam would always be in charge, the maker of decisions, the boss. The crazy thing was that he didn’t mind, because all around her were caught up by
her enthusiasm and energy. Yes, she would take some keeping up with, but he sure as hell was willing to give it a try. ‘How many bedrooms?’ he asked, his face a picture of
innocence.

‘Three,’ Tia answered. ‘Well, two and a cupboard with a window. We adult females will have the larger one, you will sleep in the middle-sized, and Rosie will have the tiny
room. Even a person of her size may need to open the window and sleep with her feet outside.’

‘Gee, thanks on her behalf.’

‘She could use the sofa downstairs, or the gypsy caravan in the wilderness that used to be the back garden.’

‘Who owns the cottage?’ he asked.

‘Ma does. She bought them all from Pa when he ran out of money. There’s Rose, Lilac, Honeysuckle, Geranium and Holly, all cottages. They used to house the servants from the big
house, and each cottage specialized in the growing of trees, flowers or bushes that matched its name. At Christmas, we all went to Holly Cottage for our holly. Rose and Geranium won masses of
prizes, and the lane outside Honeysuckle smelled like a perfume factory. In the spring, Lilac Cottage was wonderful. It’s all changed now.’

‘Why?’ Rosie asked.

‘Everything except Rose Cottage and Lilac Cottage is rented out to people who work in Canterbury. Ma kept Rose Cottage for when she wanted to paint or read. And Rose Cottage has your name,
doesn’t it?’

Rosie nodded. ‘Can we go there, Nana?’

Maggie was tired. ‘Let’s see about that tomorrow, shall we?’

Tomorrow Tia was supposed to be taking Rosie for new clothes, but she didn’t mention that while Maggie was here. Some people objected to charitable deeds. ‘We all need a rest and a
change,’ she declared. ‘What about Tyger, Teddy?’

‘Your mother and her friend will look after him, won’t they?’

‘Yes, he’ll be ruined. Ma will take him upstairs and feed him only the best. He’ll be spoilt.’

Theo sat back and watched his tenant writing a list. She had lots of lists. He wondered whether she kept a list of lists. If she lost her list of lists, she’d be lost.

Maggie took Rosie off to bed. ‘I think I’ll lie down with her,’ she said as she left the two lovebirds together. She might be lacking iron in her blood, but she could still
read the signs, the body language, the expression on his face. Would Miss Bellamy become Mrs Quinn?

‘Why don’t you get a hardback notebook for lists?’ he asked. ‘That’s what I had to do with all my English pronunciations and Scouse idiom. Keep all the lists in one
place.’

She eyed him sternly. ‘Are you trying to get on my nerves?’

‘No need to try – it’s easy. You’re a controller, aren’t you? Am I OK to be letting you loose on my new intake in September?’

‘Sorry. There’s a lot of Pa in me, which is why he and I clash so often.’

‘Will he be at home?’

She shrugged. ‘No idea.’

‘Your home’s Bartle Hall, right?’

‘Yes. It’s huge, decaying and beautiful. If he’s there, we’ll be fine. I can deal with him.’
The press, however, might be a different matter if they come
looking for members of his family, for him, for local gossip. Oh, God, why does life have to be so difficult? When will this mess hit the newspapers? Will Maggie be willing to leave her daughter?
Should Rosie be here in case her mother gets better or dies, or
— She ordered herself to stop thinking.

It was Theo’s turn to ponder. He’d already bought an ambulance that was being converted so that small groups from school could be taken out on trips. It all dovetailed so nicely,
didn’t it?
I want to be with her. Tom Quirke can take a rest for a while. Wherever she goes, I shall want to be with her. Is this insanity?

I wonder who the hell did that to his back, who flogged him and cut him and why? Was it because his mother was slightly handicapped, a bit different from everyday,
run-of-the-mill folk? Who assumes the right to decry and murder the afflicted and to beat their children? I have read about the southern states of America with their weird slants on the Bible,
their many little churches, their invented hell’s-fire-awaits-you religions, so fierce and unforgiving. But what kind of Christian beats a child and burns his mother to death? Oh, pull
yourself together, Tia Bellamy, because you have things to do.

Did no one comfort him when his mother was murdered? I have to know all these things. Why? Oh, I don’t know why I have to know, because my mind is full of him, full of empathy and
something that bears a close resemblance to love. Maggie and Rosie seem relaxed, so that’s good.

Child and grandmother were fast asleep and sharing a bed in one of Theo’s spare rooms. Tia closed their door quietly and rejoined Theo in his living room. She dropped into an armchair and
kicked off her shoes, because her imprisoned feet had begun to ache.

Theo glanced up from his newspaper and grinned. She was making herself thoroughly at home, and that idea pleased him. ‘What’s your problem?’ he asked. ‘Your brow is
furrowed and your smile has died.’

She sighed dramatically. ‘I’ve still two beds to dress for Ma and Nanny. Tomorrow’s no good, because I’m taking Rosie out for the day – I promised. In view of all
that’s happened, the murder and her mother’s condition, I can hardly let the poor baby down. We’re going for shoes and perhaps a little handbag before having lunch in a
restaurant. Oh, and she wants to see Harry the Scoot, her friend without legs. We’ll probably have afternoon tea out, too. That child is bright, and she needs stimuli.’

Theo chuckled. ‘She’ll get plenty of that in the fall; her new teacher’s quite an unusual and illuminating woman.’

‘Is she now? She sounds marvellous. Do I know her?’

‘Perhaps. I’ve heard it said that only a wise man knows his father, though I think that’s connected to possible adultery. I maintain that it’s a wise person who truly
knows him or herself. Shall I help you with the beds for your mom and her friend? I don’t mind, and I’m thoroughly domesticated.’

Tia smiled. ‘Please. And we’ll need both cars to pick up the ladies from the station at six o’clock tomorrow evening. The MGs will suffice, because my visitors will have just
one suitcase each.’ Her smile broadened. ‘You’ll get to meet your film star at last, Teddy, though you may not recognize her. My money’s on a dark wig, a brown coat and an
accent of some sort. Nanny is slender and short with greying hair; she’ll come as herself. Shall we go upstairs and get things together while we have the chance?’

He blinked a couple of times. Tia Bellamy made just about everything sound like an invitation to sin. He was guilty of the same, of course, though he was unused to women as forward as this one.
‘To dress beds? Certainly. We’ve had a busy day, haven’t we? Police, Welfare, dragging Maggie out of hospital, Tyger coming second in a fight with a geranium. I swear that cat has
mental issues.’

‘Indeed,’ she concurred, ‘so he’s come to the right place, what?’

‘If you say so, it must be true.’

Tia grinned. ‘At least Rosie’s visit to the children’s hospital is postponed. Thanks for letting me use the phone yet again. Simon knows we’re going to Kent and not to
the children’s hospital. He’s popping a note through your letterbox. We’re to give it to his dad, Dr Heilberg Senior. Oh, I must warn you about my mother.’

‘Oh?’

‘Never eat anything she brings to table. Whenever Mrs Melia, our cook and housekeeper, was ill, Ma ventured into the kitchen on the occasions when she wasn’t away at work. We all
fled, suddenly remembering invitations to dine or lunch with friends. When we turned up at the local cafe, the owners knew exactly why. They were very sympathetic and generous with
portions.’

‘Oh dear.’

Tia shook her head gravely. ‘Nanny’s not bad, though she does what she calls good, plain cooking with everything simmered to death, but she’s not a total write-off as a cook.
She can do scrambled eggs – Ma manages to produce scrambled pans, absolutely uncleanable. To label my mother adventurous would be like referring to Everest as tall. She’s totally bloody
lethal. Her mulligatawny soup takes the top layer off your tongue, and you could sole your shoes with any joint she lifts out of the oven. We bought her some vouchers for cookery classes in
Canterbury, but she went just once and said it was boring because they started off with Windsor soup and croutons. I think she was expecting Cordon Bleu.’

‘Bugger,’ he said softly.

‘Hey, I’ve told you about pinching my script,’ she chided playfully. ‘If she invites you to dinner, plead insanity, world war or bubonic plague. I’m serious. She
has the ability to make your stomach feel like a battlefield from the Napoleonic Wars.’

‘Yes, Miss.’

Tia stood and pushed her feet into their shoes. ‘Right, come on, Mr Quinn. Beds.’

‘Yes, Miss.’

‘Are you taking the pi— the piffle?’

He nodded gravely. ‘What’s a piffle?’

‘It’s a Delia word, a cross between urine and skiffle – it means they’ve had a bad night in a club.’ She held out a hand. ‘Come along, boss.’

Theo took her hand. It was becoming plainer than ever that she was the leading player, and he wondered how this would work out at school. The bloody woman was worming herself into his
affections, and he simply couldn’t manage to worry too much about that here, in a domestic situation, but his professional life mattered. He decided to address the situation as she led him
along the side of the house. ‘Portia Bellamy,’ he began, ‘I hope you’re not going to try leading me by the hand or by the nose at school.’

She stopped so suddenly that he shunted into her. ‘I wasn’t born yesterday,’ she said haughtily. ‘I shall know my place, Mr Blackbird. You’ll be my superior and my
mentor, and I’ll be an asset. This is home. You told me to treat it as my home, so you’re my neighbour. Get used to it.’ She looked him up and down. ‘Are you afraid of me?
Am I utterly terrifying?’

‘Not exactly. You’re pushy, that’s all.’

She dropped his hand, folded her arms and stood with her back to the door to her flat. ‘And you’re moody. I think you’re scared of what might happen between us, but fear not, I
have yet to be charged with rape. I like you. I more than like you. And you’re interested in me – that kiss betrayed you, Teddy. We’re adults, so what’s wrong with any of
that?’

‘Babies,’ he replied.

‘But there are ways of prevention, as I’m sure you know. Those thick, washable and reusable articles are history – we now have throw-away sheaths. What’s the matter with
you?’ She tapped a foot. Always outspoken, she wasn’t about to begin couching her opinions in duck plumage. ‘This is our one and only chance, Theodore. I am a hundred per cent
safe today, and we may not get another opportunity for weeks, depending on how long we both have guests.’

‘Safe?’

She nodded. ‘I am safe. Now, are we dressing beds or using one?’

Theo inhaled deeply. Pushy was not the word for this precocious madam. ‘You are a member of my staff, Tia. In a few weeks, we’ll be colleagues.’

‘And?’

‘And it could be awkward.’

‘OK. Good evening, then.’ She opened the door, went inside and slammed it in his face. This was the first time she’d been turned down, and it didn’t feel good. What was
the matter with him? She wasn’t ugly, wasn’t shy or stupid or undesirable. But she was like her father, wasn’t she? Over-confident, determined to have her own way, selfish,
ill-tempered on occasion. She was a damned fool, because the loveliest, handsomest, funniest, wittiest man was a few inches away on the wrong side of a door. Well, she thought he was still outside
on the path.

She bent down and lifted the letterbox flap. ‘Are you still there?’

‘No, I’ve gone.’

Tia grinned. ‘When did you leave? Is there a forwarding address?’

‘Open the damn door, Portia.’