Meet Me at the Pier Head (45 page)

‘Oh, look,’ Tia declared. ‘We have a three-piece suite. It should be four, but Mr Blake’s missing. Ah, here he comes. We’re having chamber music. He’ll be on
the spinet. Gloria Marchant is violin, Sam Sparrow plays the viola, and Judith Collins drapes herself over a cello.’

Enough food to nourish a small African nation was carried in by ‘wenches’, of which number Rosie was one. To the strains of ‘Greensleeves’, platters, tureens and a
wedding cake were placed on tables. Mrs Melia arrived with Mickle, who ran to greet her master before embarking on a good old skulk beneath laden boards. Lurking was one of her skills, and she knew
that the two-legged often dropped tasty morsels, especially when faced with the tragic eyes of a hound. The place was noisy, but she would cope with that as long as she got food.

‘My dog is a thief,’ Theo complained.

‘She’s just being a dog,’ his wife advised him.

Rosie was having a great time. She had to say everything twice, but she didn’t mind, because the reverse was also true, since her companions owned an accent. She noticed that Delia and
Juliet were surrounded by chattering people and that Mr and Mrs Quinn went everywhere hand in hand, wandering from group to group. There was so much joy that even a room as large as this could
scarcely contain it. She sat down to watch.

Over in the same corner as before, Nancy was making progress with her knitting, while Tom lingered near a door talking to a group of men in smocks and daft hats. Nana was grinning at small
playing children, and Mrs Melia was handing something in a bottle to Nana. Everyone was smiling. It was a huge room and it overflowed with happiness.

Rosie crawled under a long tablecloth and lay down, with Mickle acting as her pillow.
So this is rich. It’s the same kind of rich as the hotel in Broadstairs, all sweeping and dusting
and such a long way to bedrooms. My kind of rich might be a flat like Mr Quinn’s and a car and gardens and a dog like Mickle.

Mam isn’t going to get better. Nana told me on Tuesday while I was making sandcastles with my bucket and spade. Mam is like a little girl or even a baby again. She’s gone
backwards and needs looking after. They done tests on her and said she’s not a grown-up no more. There’s a bit of sadness in Nana’s eyes, even when she smiles or laughs, and I
think it’s because of Mam. Sometimes, she seems far away, as if she’s talking about one thing and thinking about something else, something not nice.

If Mr Quinn and Miss Bellamy – I mean Mrs Quinn – decide to stay here and I go back to Liverpool with Nana, we will have to live in Nana’s house. Nana’s is better
than ours was, but there’s still no garden and no cat and no dog. But I mustn’t be greedy, cos I’ve been lucky with this holiday and everything.

A lot has happened today. We got picked up at the hotel and taken to another hotel in Canterbury. I didn’t know I was a bridesmaid until they had me all dressed up in pink and told me
to mind the rings. They bought my frock at a shop, but it fitted all right.

Tom and Nancy didn’t know, either, but Nana did. We all got ready in a room at the new hotel. When we got to the office place, Nancy started crying. They should have let her bring her
knitting. She’s happy as long as she’s knitting. Nana says Nancy’s knitting would probably stretch all round the fattest part of the world if somebody stuck all the knitting
together.

Juliet joined Rosie and the dog under the table. ‘Are you tired?’ she asked.

Rosie nodded.

‘It is an exhausting business, being a bridesmaid. You did very well, though, like a professional. Have you done it before?’

‘No. I never had nice clothes.’

‘You looked beautiful.’

‘So did you. You look like Miss Bellamy, but smaller. She’s Mrs Quinn now.’ A short pause followed. ‘Juliet, will they live here?’

‘No.’ Juliet watched as relief flooded the little girl’s face. ‘But Tia owns Rose Cottage, so I expect they’ll come during holidays.’

Rosie beamed. She told Juliet about Harry the Scoot and Martha, his sister, before recounting the tale of her life so far. ‘Uncle Miles was murdered and my mam couldn’t get gin in
hospital or prison, so she tried to go to Jesus. We’ll have to look after her, cos she can’t look after herself no more.’

The bride’s youngest sister took hold of Rosie’s hand. ‘Did you like Canterbury?’

‘Yes, it was pretty.’

‘Will you come with me to Canterbury tomorrow? Tia and Mr Quinn will come, too.’

‘They’re not getting married again, are they?’

Juliet laughed. ‘No, but they may have a church blessing while they’re here in Chaddington Green. Dr Heilberg’s father’s partner and I have arranged to get you examined
to see if Uncle Miles hurt you. There will be special photographs that show your bones.’

Rosie pondered. ‘Why? He’s dead, so he can’t get in trouble for hurting me now, can he?’

The youngest daughter of the household bit her lip. This child was so precious, so knowing, yet innocent. ‘We just want to make sure you’re well, Rosie. Afterwards, we’ll go
and have afternoon tea at the Pack Horse where we got dressed this morning. The owners moved here from Devon, and they do cream teas. You’ll love it.’

‘All right. Shall I wear my best dress?’

‘Not the bridesmaid one.’

‘No, I have a red check with matching bag and shoes.’

‘That will do nicely, Miss Stone.’

They both giggled.

‘Will you marry Dr Heilberg, Juliet?’

‘Probably.’

‘Is that probably nearly yes?’

Juliet nodded. ‘Our secret, yes?’

‘Assolutely.’

‘Oh, Rosie, I love you.’

On the evening following his wedding, Theodore Patrick Quinn realized that he had learned several things. English eccentricity could be extreme and charming; Queen Elizabeth I
had ordered the creation of green, clean areas around cities in order to stop the spread of plague; an owner of Bartle Hall, once Bart’s Manor, had died of said plague in order to save his
community; Kent, once known to Theo as Hellfire Corner, was a beautiful place; lovemaking without any barrier was bliss.

He stared into a pair of impossibly violet eyes. ‘So we begin,’ he said, running a finger down the side of her face. ‘Because you are a determined madam, and because I love you
to the point of insanity, we have opened the baby-making factory. And I wilt keep thine issue fed and watered—’

‘You didn’t wilt.’

‘I’m sorry I laughed – couldn’t help it. If he’d said “wilt” once more, I would have slid off my chair.’

‘It was a pity that the Tudor thrones were in storage – they’re all hand-carved and special. But it was a fun wedding, wasn’t it?’

‘Will it be fun if we have a coloured child?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t know whether having a child is fun or agony. But I do prefer dark-haired people, because their faces have a frame. Blonde hair blends with fair skin, so
it’s a bit bland, no punctuation.’

‘Maybe we’ll get a dark-skinned blonde?’

She agreed that such a person might have an interesting appearance. ‘As long as any child of ours doesn’t get your father’s red hair.’

‘Don’t discriminate,’ he whispered.

‘Don’t wilt.’

‘OK.’

A group of anxious people sat in welcome shade outside the Pack Horse Inn, which was well placed in the centre of a truly magnificent city. They sipped on chilled fruit juices
and waited. Waiting wasn’t easy. Theo and Tia clutched at each other’s hands while Delia tried hard to ignore her watch. ‘Juliet may be talking to Matron about doing midwifery in
Liverpool,’ she said eventually.

Isadora agreed, as did Nancy. ‘You’re right, love. She’ll have loads of mates down here, too, won’t she? This is where she done all her learning until now. I hope Maggie
likes this colour. I’ll keep it meself if she doesn’t.’ She touched her husband’s arm. ‘I’m right, aren’t I, love? About Juliet seeing all her friends,
like?’

‘Course you’re right, Nancy.’ He sighed heavily. ‘And to think we were at a wedding round the corner just over twenty-four hours since.’ He ran a hand through what
was left of his hair. He and Nancy had heard most of Rosie’s pain. Closing his eyes, he confronted the sound of Rosie crying, of the shed door banging shut, of his wife weeping while she made
jam butties or banana butties or a pan of chips for that poor kiddy.

Isadora studied him. ‘Don’t, Tom,’ she whispered. ‘We can’t mend Rosie’s past, but we sure as hell can make her a suit of armour for the future.’

Nancy changed needles. ‘You’re right, Izzy,’ she pronounced.

‘Maggie will be nervous.’ Tia leaned her head against her man’s shoulder.

‘We couldn’t all go to the hospital,’ Theo said. ‘It would have been like an invasion. Juliet knows what she’s doing, and all the docs know her. They’ll be
doing a thorough job, that’s all.’

Theo got busy writing I LOVE YOU on Tia’s palm.

She responded by outlining WILT NOT on his.

Nancy surprised the whole company by putting down her knitting and standing up. ‘I won’t be long,’ she said.

‘Where are you going?’ Tom asked his wife.

‘Shop next door to the wool shop, love. Toys. They have nice paintboxes and big books with blank pages. And they had a skipping rope with ball bearings in the handles, so it’ll turn
smooth. I’ll ask if they sell glue not as runny as that stuff she uses now. I’d be frightened of putting my knitting down when she’s cutting and sticking.’

Tom blinked and his jaw dropped. His wife had delivered a speech. ‘Shopping in Canterbury? On your own?’

‘That’s right. I’m going all by myself.’ She walked away.

‘Well,’ Tom folded his arms, ‘there’s a first time for everything, I suppose. It took months to make her go round the corner without me.’ He paused. ‘She was
left locked in the house when she was a child. Her mother had to go to work, see. I think that’s why Nancy felt so bad for Rosie when she got shut in with the coal.’ He smiled.
‘Look at my Nancy now, crossing a main road without me. It’s a bloody miracle.’

‘You love the bones of her,’ Theo said.

‘Don’t Liverpool sayings sound odd with an American accent?’ Tia asked.

Isadora laughed. ‘Your husband has a lovely accent, Portia.’

Delia agreed. ‘And a fabulous ambulance.’

‘Don’t start,’ Theo warned. ‘It has to get us home first.’

‘I’ll drive you home.’

‘Cordelia?’ Isadora’s tone was quiet but firm. ‘Behave yourself. If Theo wants to make a gift of the van, let him do it in his own good time.’

Theo shrugged. ‘It’s not a problem, Ma.’

Isadora grinned. ‘Ma! I have a son. At last, I have a son.’

‘And me. You’ve got me.’ Rosie was prancing about on the pavement. ‘They made a hole in me and pinched my blood. Loads and loads and loads. They put a sticky plaster on
it, but it’s coming off. I must be nearly empty. Nana says I can have pineapple juice. I have to get re-hided.’

‘Rehydrated,’ Juliet explained. ‘Not because of blood loss, but the weather’s hot. She didn’t like hospital orange juice and she took just a sip of
water.’

Juliet and Maggie stood behind the bouncing child. Both were smiling.

‘She did very well,’ Maggie told them. ‘Never cried when the needle went in, and she told him he was taking too much. He said he needed a bucketful, and young miss here just
laughed at him.’

Rosie motored on. ‘The doctor with joined-up eyebrows said I was healthy, and if everyone was as healthy as me, he’d have no job. I’ve got chips on a clavicule . . . something
like that.’

‘Clavicle,’ Juliet told them.

‘And my broke ribs mended theirselves. Me hair’s frackshered.’

‘Hairline skull fracture,’ Nurse Juliet said, shaking her head. ‘Proof of historic damage.’ She gave Rosie a shilling. ‘Go to the bar and ask for iced pineapple,
there’s a good girl.’

When the child had disappeared, Maggie spoke again. ‘The blood tests will take a few days, but the upshot is that even if Sadie does get better, it’s unlikely she’ll be having
Rosie back. The poor baby probably slept for days after her skull got fractured. The doctor said she might well have had concussion. She’s lucky to be alive.’

Delia’s face was brightened by anger. ‘It’s a good thing that Tunstall’s dead, or I’d be in jail for rearranging his future. Whoever killed him deserves a
knighthood. As for the child’s mother . . .’ She stopped. ‘Sorry, Maggie.’

Maggie nodded. ‘You’re not in the wrong, love, so don’t be worrying. Sadie was out of control on gin, and she’s lost control altogether now because of it. My daughter
never put Rosie first. Trouble was, I always put my daughter first, and she turned into a—’ She spotted Rosie on her way back. ‘Well, we all know what she turned into.’ She
eyed her granddaughter. ‘That’s not pineapple juice.’

‘No, it’s tomato, Nana.’

‘Oh?’

‘Well, they stuck a needle in the bend in me arm and pinched thousands of blood. Millyuns. This is nearly the same colour, so I can get re-hided.’ She took a sip. ‘I
don’t like it, but it’s red.’ She shrugged. ‘I shown him at the bar the needle hole. He said I’ll have a big bruise tomorrow and I can charge people a penny for a look
at it. See, Nana? They’re just the same as Liverpool people except for talking funny.’

The whole company dissolved into laughter. Rosie held her nose and swallowed the rest of the red stuff before placing Juliet’s shilling on the table. ‘I got it free cos I’m
beautiful. Well, that’s what he said, but he wears glasses.’

‘You are beautiful,’ Isadora insisted.

‘It’s cos I got nice clothes.’ She grinned at Tia.

Nancy returned bearing gifts. Within minutes, a supposedly bloodless child was leaping about with a special skipping rope, one with ball bearings in the handles.

‘Psychologist?’ Theo asked quietly.

‘There’s evidence of some damage,’ was Juliet’s reply. ‘But she’s immensely clever and good-natured. She spent ten minutes making him laugh about some poor
woman so fat that she looks like Woolworth’s with a hairnet. Rosie’s afraid of the dark and of closed doors – understandably so.’

‘Gasworks with the same hairnet,’ Maggie explained. ‘She means poor Nella from Ivy Lane. She has to go sideways into Povey’s shop when she wants a loaf. You could hide a
whole school of children behind her. Lovely woman – it’s a damned shame.’