Queen of the Mersey (58 page)

Queenie grinned. ‘The hospital one? They’ve started showing it over here. You make a wonderful doctor, Steven. You suit a white coat and stethoscope.’

He looked a little bit hurt. ‘You may smile, Queenie Tate, but it brings in an awful lot of money. And you should see my fan mail. Doctor Morrison is deluged with admiring letters every week – and offers of marriage, I might add.’

She didn’t say that this wasn’t what he’d wanted when he’d first gone to Hollywood. He’d hoped to become a highly regarded actor, but instead had been cast as the same charming, upper-class Englishman, playing an identical part in every film, until producers assumed he had no range.

‘Hester looked well,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realise she’d only just got married.’

‘Ned’s a lovely person. He’s a writer as well as a postman. They’re very much in love.’

‘I was in love with Hester once.’

‘For how long?’

‘Ah, Queenie!’ He laughed out loud, reminding her of Peter. ‘How well you know me. For about three months, I reckon.’

‘Did you feed her that sob story about falling in love during the war and the woman being married?’

‘I’m afraid so,’ he said, not the least abashed.

‘You fed me the same story, but when I mentioned it a few days later, feeling sorry for you like, the woman had a different name. I realised then what a good actor you’d make, because I’d really believed you the first time.’

‘I’m a fickle guy.’

‘You’re that all right.’ He was about to divorce his third wife, or she was about to divorce him, she wasn’t sure.

‘I honestly was in love with you though, Queenie.’

‘Oh, yeah!’ He was flirting with her when Theo was still warm in his grave.

‘Goodnight, Steven.’ He was going back to the States tomorrow. He might be fickle, an outrageous flirt, and have other not very admirable traits, but she would be sorry to see him go.

Two days later, the builders were in, taking down the other chandeliers and repairing the ceiling, and Queenie was reading the dozens of ideas the staff had submitted for modernising Freddy’s. Installing escalators seemed the most popular idea. Others included providing a coffee bar on the ground floor, lowering the ceilings throughout, and getting rid of Ladies’ Exclusive Fashions, which was very sensible, because these days, many of the very expensive clothes ended up being sold for half-price in the sales. Someone thought they should stop selling furs, because it was cruel, the writer added indignantly. Another person proposed franchises, definitely worth looking into. Various colours were suggested for the walls and, finally, ‘I hate the idea of anyone losing their job, but do we really need a doorman and a lift operator these days? None of the other big shops have them.’

She put the assorted bits of paper in a file, ate a sandwich at her desk, and told Roy Burrows in the next office that she was going out and wouldn’t be back for a couple of hours. ‘When you’ve got a minute, could you look into the idea of franchises? I don’t know much about them.’

‘They’re a shop within a shop. A famous name, like Weatherall’s, for instance, takes over their own section, supplies their own staff and sells their own clothes. It can be done with cosmetics too. It’s not a bad idea,’ he mused.

‘I’ll try to find out more.’

‘Good. I’ll see you around three-ish.’

The gynaecologist was situated in an elegant, four-storey house in Rodney Street. Queenie was shown into a tastefully furnished waiting room with pale green walls, where a nurse presented her a form to fill in. ‘Doctor Wickford will see you in ten minutes.’

Queenie completed the form accurately except for the question asking if she was married. She put that she was.

Dr Susan Wickford was a pleasant, middle-aged woman with a friendly demeanour that immediately put Queenie at her ease.

After the formalities of shaking hands and remarking on the weather were over, she seated herself behind the desk and asked, ‘How can I help you?’

‘I’ve just got married again and I wanted to know if there’s any chance of me having a baby,’ Queenie said bluntly.

The doctor looked at the form. ‘At forty-eight! That’s most unlikely, but not impossible. You haven’t had a child, but I see you had a miscarriage in your teens. What caused it?’

‘An accident. I fell.’

‘And you never conceived with your first husband. Did he ever try to find out why?’

‘No.’

‘And the second one – have you been married long, by the way?’

‘Only a few weeks.’

‘Well, congratulations.’ She smiled. ‘I take it he’s about your age. Has he been married before?’

‘Yes, he’s a widower. He has two children.’

‘And are you still menstruating?’

Queenie nodded. ‘Regularly.’

‘All I can say is it’s worth a try,’ Dr Wickford said encouragingly. ‘The older the woman, the less healthy are her eggs, which makes them much harder to fertilise and harder to carry to term, though I must warn you that, if you’re successful, an unhealthy egg can produce a damaged child. On the other hand, when I was in general practice, I came across quite a few expectant mothers in their late forties, even one who was fifty. As I recall, their babies were perfect.’

‘I’d still like to try, whatever the risk,’ Queenie said evenly. Vera had had Mary when she was forty-seven.

‘Well, trying with a new husband isn’t exactly a chore, is it?’ She smiled.

‘Would you like me to give you an internal examination, see if everything’s in order, as it were?’

‘Please.’

Her insides were ‘in perfect running order’, as the doctor put it fifteen minutes later. Queenie returned to Freddy’s. The easy part was over, the more difficult part lay ahead. Now she had to ask Roddy if he was prepared to give her a child. Or at least try.

She invited him to dinner. As Freddy’s restaurant was closed and she didn’t trust herself to turn out a decently cooked three-course meal, she suggested that on Monday they went to a new Italian place, Nero’s, which had just opened in Tithebarn Street. ‘Shall we meet about half six, save you going all the way home to Crosby and back?’

‘You’re very thoughtful, Queenie. What’s this in aid of? The dinner, I mean?’

‘Just a thank you for all you’ve done for me lately.’

‘There’s no need to thank me, but I never say no to a free meal – and I love Italian food. See you Monday.’

She felt terrible on Monday, getting ready to go out with another man, determined to look her smartest, making up her face with extra care, having her hair set that afternoon in the hairdresser’s downstairs, yet it was less than three weeks since Theo had died. She had been expecting to wallow in the past, but after what Stephanie had told her, all she could think about was the future and the vague possibility of having a child.

Roddy was there before her. He looked very dashing – he was the only man she’d ever known who suited the word – in a dark grey suit and sparkling white shirt.

He jumped to his feet and held the chair for her to sit down.

‘Who washes your shirts?’ she asked.

‘The laundry. I send them every week.’

‘I thought as much. Will you order the wine, please?’

‘White or red, medium or dry?’

‘Medium white, but get a bottle of red as well if that’s what you prefer.’ She might well drink an entire bottle herself in order to pluck up the courage to ask the delicate question she had in mind.

‘I’ll do that. I think red would go better with spaghetti.’

Queenie licked her lips. Her mouth was dry. Never before had she been so looking forward to a glass of wine.

She ordered pâté for starters and ravioli to follow – much easier to eat than spaghetti. ‘It’s nice here,’ she said, looking around at the murals of Italian scenes on the walls. She recognised the leaning tower of Pisa and the Trevi fountain, but that was all.

‘Very nice.’ He seemed very jovial tonight and she remarked on the fact.

‘Well, it’s the first time in my life that a beautiful woman has invited me to dinner. I feel quite chuffed.’

‘You think I’m beautiful?’

‘Extremely so. I thought as much the night I came back to Glover Street during the war. I was quite astounded. You’d changed out of all recognition since I went away. Oh, Lord!’ The joviality vanished in an instant. ‘That was the night I told Laura I didn’t love her any more, that I’d met Katherine. She was devastated, but I didn’t care.’

‘That was an awful long time ago, Roddy. I should forget about it if I were you.’

‘I can’t!’ he said wretchedly. ‘Ever since she killed herself, I torture myself, going over all the terrible things I did. I shouldn’t have been so cruel when she said she wanted to get rid of that baby.’

‘It was only natural. Getting rid of a baby is the cruellest thing of all. I wasn’t very nice to her, either, when she told me she was thinking about an abortion.’

‘But that’s not all, Queenie,’ he went on, his voice bitter with regret. ‘There was the time Gus and I were supposed to go sailing, but the weather was so bad we gave up on the idea and came into town instead. I knew Laura would be worried, about Gus, if not me, but I deliberately didn’t let her know. I wanted to punish her for being such a bitch. From then on, she never mentioned the word abortion again.’

‘I remember that day. She rang me in a state and I told her to get in touch with the coastguard.’

‘Did she? Did you?’ He looked at her piteously.

‘She was being a bitch, Roddy,’ she reminded him.

‘Yes, but she was ill.’

‘We didn’t know that, did we? We’re not doctors.’

‘I should have got a doctor for her.’

‘How could you, when you didn’t know she needed one, not then? Oh, let’s stop this at once. Any minute now, I’ll think of all the horrid things I did to Theo.

We’ll both collapse in buckets of tears and they’ll throw us out. Finish your wine, have more. You’re not driving, are you?’ she demanded, suddenly concerned.

‘No.’ He sniffed. ‘I use the train. I usually have a couple of drinks in town before I go home. I’d just like to say one thing, I bet you didn’t do a single horrid thing to Theo.’

‘If I try hard enough, I’ll probably think of some.’ She’d already remembered the first holiday in Kythira when she’d wished Theo had been more like his cousin, Peter, and had wondered what it would be like to make love with Trefor Jones.

Her pâté came and Roddy’s shrimp salad. They ate in silence. It wasn’t until the waiter had removed their plates that Roddy spoke again. ‘I’m sorry about my outburst, but the least little thing reminds me.’

‘There’s nothing to be sorry for. How’s Hester coping with married life?’ It was only a few days since she’d seen Hester, but at least she provided a more pleasant topic of conversation.

‘Wonderfully. Have you seen Ned’s house? It’s the sort of place where the three bears might have lived.’

‘Mary told me about it.’

‘I thought about letting them have mine. Hester’s hoping to have four kids, though she’s left it a bit late. They’ll be packed like sardines in Ned’s.’

‘Will you live in his instead?’

He smiled at last. ‘Not likely. I’ll buy myself a little flat, in town somewhere, close to work.’

‘Four kids, eh!’ Queenie sighed. ‘Lucky old Hester.’

‘I didn’t know you wanted children!’ He looked surprised.

‘Just one would have been enough.’

‘Wasn’t Theo keen?’

‘He was dead keen. I wasn’t at first, but after a while, I began to desperately want a baby.’ She nearly said it was why she’d been so cross with Laura, but that might have set him off again. ‘Can I tell why I didn’t have one, why I think I didn’t have one?’

‘Does it include any gory details?’

She laughed. ‘No.’

‘Then tell me.’

While they ate the main course, she told him what Stephanie Vandos had said on the day of Theo’s funeral. ‘I always wondered why I never got pregnant. Theo had three children, I knew there was nothing wrong with me, so I thought it was just bad luck. But now!’ She waved her knife. ‘Perhaps there was something wrong with Theo. I’ll never know.’

‘And now it’s too late. Strewth, Queenie. That was bad luck,’ he said sympathetically.

‘I went to see a gynaecologist the other day. She said there’s still a slight chance I could conceive.’

‘Yes, but it’s still too late.’

‘Why?’

He looked at her, nonplussed. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’

She felt herself go cold, then hot, then dizzy. She poured the rest of the wine, drank half in a single gulp and immediately felt more dizzy, even hotter. ‘I’m asking you a favour, Roddy.’

His face was a picture of puzzlement, which slowly faded as it dawned on him what the favour was. He put his fork on the plate with a bang. ‘Christ Almighty, Queenie! Do you actually mean what I think you mean?’

‘Would you mind?’ she asked timidly.

‘Jesus!’ He almost shouted the word. The restaurant was gradually filling up and a few people turned to look. ‘Jesus!’ he said in a normal voice. ‘Excuse me.’

She thought he was going to the Gents, but instead he made for the door and went outside. Five minutes later, she wondered if he’d gone for good and if she should go after him, apologise. Now she felt nauseous on top of everything else, and very odd. The things on the table had grown to twice their usual size. She couldn’t feel the chair she was sitting on. What a dreadful thing to ask of a man. She’d plummet in his estimation. He’d probably never speak to her again.

By the time she got the bill, it would be too late to look for him. He might be on the train by now. She wouldn’t phone him when she got home, she felt too ashamed.

It was then she remembered he’d brought a briefcase with him, which he hadn’t taken when he walked out. She looked under the table and it was on the floor beside his chair. He’d have to come back.

About a quarter of an hour later he did, bursting into the restaurant, raising more eyebrows, sitting heavily in the chair opposite, his face showing nothing.

‘I’ve just experienced half a dozen different emotions,’ he said.

‘I’m sorry, Roddy,’ she began, but he held up an imperious hand. ‘Be quiet, Queenie.’ He cleared his throat. ‘First of all, I felt very angry that you’d asked me to do such a thing. You, of all people, Laura’s best friend. It seemed a terrible betrayal of friendship. But how can you betray someone who’s been dead such a long time? I have to keep reminding myself of that. Then I was sad, remembering the baby Laura had lost. After that, I felt amazement. I must be one of the few men in the world to have been asked such a thing. It made me feel rather proud, extremely flattered, plus a bit uncomfortable.’ He smiled at last and reached for her hand. ‘I would be happy to father your baby, Queenie. Or at least try.’