Queen of the Mersey (32 page)

‘As they always refused to meet me, they never discovered what sort of girl I was. What does Katherine’s father, Jack Muir, do for a living?’

‘He’s a stockbroker.’

‘And my father was an Anglican vicar. Is a vicar lower down the social scale than a stockbroker?’

‘Darling,’ he cried. ‘What does that matter?’

‘It doesn’t matter a bit. I was just wondering, that’s all.’

‘Anyway,’ he went on, ‘the war ended. In February, I was demobbed, Jack fixed me up with a job in a stockbrokers, but from then on London was a frightful wash-out. The excitement had gone, the atmosphere of danger and romance, Katherine’s job went, and her friends had dispersed to wherever they’d come from. We ate out a lot, went to the theatre, but it wasn’t the same. London had lost its buzz. Before, it had seemed as if half the population had been in uniform, but now there were none. My brain returned to its normal gear and I became my old, normal self. I realised how much I missed you, loved you – and Hester – and badly wanted to come home. It had all been a moment of madness – a long moment, I concede.’ He gave her a wan grin. ‘So that’s it. I’ve been a louse and I’m sorry and beg you to forgive me. And before you ask, I’ve got a job. I discovered myself quite a whizz at playing the stock market. My firm, Glyn & Michaelson, has an office in Liverpool and they’re putting me in charge.

I start the first of January. The salary’s not to be sneezed at and they’ve even given me a loan to buy a house. We can move from Glover Street to somewhere nicer, say Crosby or Blundellsands. What do you say, Lo?’

‘You mean, you were so confident I’d take you back you actually fixed up a job in Liverpool?’ she said, outraged.

‘I assumed you still loved me.’ His voice faltered slightly.

‘I don’t love you, Roddy. I haven’t loved you for a long time. Despite what you’ve just said, I don’t want you back. Stay in Liverpool, if that’s what you want, buy your self a house in Crosby or Blundellsands, because you’re not living with us. Oh, and by the way, please don’t call me “darling” again, or “Lo”.’

He did live with them until after Christmas, sleeping on the sofa, which Laura thought a bit of a comedown for a stockbroker. Gus, who bore him no animosity, quickly got used to having a father on the premises. Hester, who did, only gradually came round, no doubt influenced by the fact that Roddy was less than half the age of Mary’s dad and better looking than every one of her brothers.

She boasted endlessly about Daddy’s daring exploits in France.

Every day he went to look at houses and asked if Laura would come with him. ‘I’d like your opinion.’

‘What does my opinion matter? I won’t be living there.’

‘Would you mind if Gus and Hester came to see me at weekends?’

‘Of course not. They’re your children as much as mine.’ She was glad he was back for their sake, if not her own.

On Christmas Day, he produced expensive presents for them all; a bike for Gus, which had been hidden in the Monaghans’ parlour, a leather shoulder bag for Hester, a seed pearl necklace for Queenie, who’d swiftly succumbed to his charm and hoped Laura would soon do the same. There was even a lovely marcasite brooch for Vera, ‘For being such a wonderful friend to Laura over the years.’

‘Well, there’s been times when she’s badly needed a friend,’ Vera said pointedly, though she was too nice to bear a grudge. ‘Life’s too short,’ she said to Laura. ‘He made a mistake, but it’s all in the past. It’s you he loves.

Don’t turn down happiness, luv, when it’s handed to you on a plate.’

But Laura was having none of it. He’d hurt her too much, and if he could do it once, he could do it again. It was possible that, somewhere in London, Katherine was hurting as badly as she had. She hadn’t asked if the breakup had been mutual.

‘And this is for you,’ he said on Christmas morning, handing her a velvet box.

‘They’re beautiful,’ she said coolly when she found the box contained a gold locket encrusted with turquoise stones and drop earrings to match. They looked very old and rich, and she loved them immediately.

‘They’re antique.’ He watched her face anxiously. ‘Are you sure you like them?

You don’t think them too dressy? You never used to wear jewellery, but that was because we hadn’t the money to buy it.’

‘As I said, they’re beautiful, though it’s a pity the earrings are clip-on, when my ears are pierced.’

‘I hadn’t noticed they were pierced.’ He looked so downhearted that she felt sorry for him, though she had no intention of showing it.

‘I had them done during the war. One of the girls in the factory did it with a red-hot darning needle.’

He gasped. ‘That sounds painful.’

‘I hardly felt anything.’ In fact, it had hurt like blazes and she’d been in agony for days. Then the ears had festered and the agony had stretched to weeks.

‘Perhaps I could change the earrings,’ he muttered.

‘I do hope so, Roddy.’ She took pity on him. ‘They really are lovely.’

On Boxing Day, he took the children to the Empire in Liverpool to see Puss in Boots. Laura refused to go. She had homework to do for the course, which hadn’t been touched because of him. Queenie was spending the day at Jimmy’s and the house would be empty for a change.

After everyone had gone, she spread the papers on the table in the living room and set to work, half dreading Vera would come and interrupt, half hoping that she would because she was finding it impossible to concentrate and would have quite liked a good jangle.

Roddy had found a house he liked. It was down a leafy road in Crosby, a spacious turn-of-the-century semi with four bedrooms and gardens front and back. He’d put down a deposit and his firm were organising the loan. As the place was empty, the estate agent was agreeable to him moving in straight away, before the contract was finalised. ‘His son was in North Africa at the same time as I was.’

He showed her the estate agent’s details. She glanced at them briefly, pretending indifference.

‘Why do you want somewhere so big?’ she asked. ‘You’ll be living there alone.’

‘The children might like to stay overnight occasionally. There’s plenty of trees at the back for Gus. He seems to be obsessed with trees.’

‘Gus is obsessed with an awful lot of things.’

Later he said, ‘Remember you wanted us to have a velvet three-piece suite when we were better off? I thought I’d get one for the house. What colour do you think?’

‘Whatever colour takes your fancy, Roddy. I won’t be sitting on it.’ She realised what he was up to. He was trying to wheedle his way back into her life, offering the house and the contents as a bribe. Any minute now, he’d ask what sort of curtains he should buy. He’d remind her that she’d always wanted a willow pattern dinner service and recall her longing for a radiogram. But she was adamant that nothing would move her. She shook away the pictures that kept flashing across her mind, of them all living together in the house in Crosby, going for walks on Sundays as they’d used to before the war, but this time Gus would be with them.

She wasn’t prepared to give in so easily. Roddy had to suffer, as she had.

He left on New Year’s Eve, having bought loads of furniture in Freddy’s sale, including a velvet three-piece. ‘A sort of russet colour,’ he told Laura.

‘Sounds nice,’ she said carelessly. She would have chosen russet herself.

Straight away, the flat felt empty without him. Gus mooched around with his hands in his pockets, wanting to know why he’d gone away. ‘Bert and Vera live together. Why can’t my mum and dad?’

‘Because,’ said his mum.

‘Because what?’

‘Just because.’

If Roddy’s arrival in their midst had been a bombshell, Queenie’s departure was another.

‘Laura,’ she said one morning when January was only a few days old, ‘this might come as a bit of a shock, but I’ll be moving out shortly.’

‘Queenie!’ Laura clapped her hands delightedly. ‘It’s a shock, a terrible shock – what on earth will I do without you? I’m glad you’ve set a date with Jimmy at last, but does it have to be so soon? There won’t be time for me to make that dress we always planned on.’ It crossed her mind that this was a terribly tactless thing to say and the reason for the rush was that Queenie had to get married. She felt her face redden.

‘I’m not marrying Jimmy,’ Queenie said in a steady voice. ‘I told him so last night. He was dead upset. The reason I’m leaving is I’m going to live with Theo Vandos in his apartment in Freddy’s.’

June, 1954

Chapter 11

‘Please can I open my eyes?’

‘Not for another few minutes.’

‘But where are we going?’ Queenie wailed.

‘You’ll see soon enough.’

She caught her toe and stumbled. ‘I nearly fell over,’ she complained.

‘I’m holding your hand, aren’t I?’ Theo gave the hand a little shake. ‘You can’t possibly fall.’

It was Sunday, scorchingly hot. The sun shone like a torch out of the blue sky.

They were on the coast of North Wales not far from Colwyn Bay, which she hoped was nowhere near Caerdovey. Jimmy had asked, more than once, if she’d go with him to see Tess and Pete when they’d lived there, but she’d always refused. She would never go near the place again.

Theo had stopped the car at a boatyard. When they got out, he demanded she close her eyes. ‘I have a surprise for you,’ he’d said.

‘You can open them now,’ he said about five minutes later.

Queenie opened her eyes and saw a row of boats moored by the quayside, from the very small to the very large, some with sails, some without. A few people were about; painting hulls, rubbing them down, sunbathing on the decks. This was the first hot spell of the year and they were already more than halfway through June. The water shone so brilliantly it hurt her eyes, ‘What’s the surprise?’

she asked.

‘The boat in front, it’s for you, a present for your birthday.’ She would be twenty-nine next week.

Directly in front, a dinghy languished on the concrete, half the planks missing.

It seemed a very peculiar present. ‘That won’t last a minute in the water. It’ll sink straight away.’

Theo laughed. ‘I should have said the boat in front of the boat in front; the one with the dark blue hull, painted white above the waterline, the one with the little black funnel and varnished wheelhouse and a man inside wearing a peaked cap. That’s the skipper and his name is Trefor Jones. He’s Welsh.’

‘You’ve bought me a boat?’ Her voice was subdued. She could hardly believe it.

He was always generous, but a boat! ‘It’s huge,’ she said.

‘Eighty feet long, a motor yacht. I didn’t exactly buy it, I had it built. Have you noticed the name?’

‘Queen of the Mersey. Oh, Theo! Fancy doing something like that for me,’ she cried, close to tears.

He put his arm around her waist. ‘You know I would do anything on earth for you.

It’s to show how much I love you.’

‘There’s no need to buy a boat to tell me that. I already knew.’

‘I like buying you things. Shall we go on board?’ He squeezed her waist. ‘Or are we going to stand here for the rest of the day, just looking?’

‘Let’s go on board. I’m dying to see inside.’

‘I’ll introduce you to Trefor first. Look, he’s noticed us, he’s coming out.

Let’s go on deck.’

As well as a white, peaked cap, Trefor Jones wore a white, short-sleeved shirt and white trousers, all beautifully pressed, making an attractive contrast to his dark, sunburnt skin. There were deep wrinkles around his sharp blue eyes, as if he’d spent his life peering into the sun. His jaw was square, his mouth thin and stern.

‘Good afternoon, Theo.’ They were obviously on first name terms. He was respectful, but not toadying, the way some people were when they spoke to Theo Vandos.

‘Trefor supervised the construction of the boat,’ Theo said. ‘It was built here, in this very yard. He used to be in the Merchant Navy, joined when he was fourteen, the year the war started. He left with his Extra Master’s Certificate and now, my darling, he’s going to captain your boat.’ That meant Trefor was only the same age as herself, but looked much older. ‘Trefor, this is my friend, Queenie Tate.’

They shook hands. As she had expected, Trefor’s grip was very firm. ‘Would you like me to show you round?’ he asked.

‘Not just yet. I’d like Queenie to see the living quarters first. Later, we can all have a drink, make a toast to Queen of the Mersey. What is it they say when a ship is launched? “Good luck to all who sail in her.” Come along, Queenie.

This is the lounge.’

He led her through a door, down a few steps, into a long, narrow, luxuriously appointed room with a royal blue carpet and windows on both sides, which rounded to a curve at the front. Half a dozen squashy plush armchairs, a silvery colour, were placed around a circular coffee table with an inlaid top patterned with a star. At the far end, where the room tapered, there was a full-height fitted table with plush-covered benches either side. Under the windows, there were cupboards with the same inlaid star as the coffee table on the fronts. Theo smiled and opened one, revealing a radiogram. The next was a cocktail cabinet, next a refrigerator with a few bottles of orange juice inside. In the ceiling, above each window, there was a pink half-globe. Queenie looked for a switch, pressed it, and the globes emitted a subdued, pink glow.

‘Where does the electricity come from?’ she asked.

‘A generator. Don’t ask too many technical questions, darling, because I can’t answer them.’

‘Is this called a cabin or a room?’

‘I think it’s called the lounge.’ He didn’t look very sure.

‘It’s beautiful, Theo,’ she said seriously, a slight throb in her voice. ‘I can’t believe it’s mine.’

‘Let’s go down below and I’ll show you where we’ll sleep.’

They descended a highly polished staircase with brass rails either side, and went through a door at the bottom.

She gasped. The carpet here was dark cream, the fitted furniture paler and edged with a fine gold line, and the four-poster bed was covered with flounces of creamy lace. The wall lights were giant white seashells, the windows small and round – portholes, she remembered they were called.