The House by Princes Park (31 page)

‘Excessively keen. I can’t think why. It was never reciprocated.’

‘You’ve never mentioned that before.’ Beth looked surprised. ‘We usually told each other everything.’ She unzipped her boots, threw them off, and tucked her legs beneath her. ‘Have you got any wine? I feel pleasantly drunk and I don’t want it to wear off.’

‘I got some specially for my American guest. Red or white?’

‘Either.’

When Ruby returned with the wine, she said, ‘I didn’t tell you about Jim because I was too embarrassed. I loved him, at least I had a crush on him, but he was only vaguely aware of my existence. Then he damn well went and asked you for a date. I was livid, I can tell you.’

‘There’s no need to tell me. I remember very well.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Ruby said penitently.

‘How is Jim these days? I thought he might have come to the wedding.’

‘He has the Malt House to look after, doesn’t he? He’s never been the same since the war. According to Martha, it knocked the stuffing out of him. His wife doesn’t help. Martha claims she has affairs.’

‘Poor Jim!’ Beth sighed. ‘Why is it some people lead incredibly happy lives and others are dead miserable?’

‘If I knew that, Beth, I’d write a book about it and make a fortune. I suppose for most people it’s a bit of both.’

Beth gave a short laugh. ‘That more or less describes me, but leaning heavily towards the dead miserable.’

‘Oh, Beth! What’s wrong?’ It didn’t seem fair. Beth was so nice - and so was Jim. Yet she, Ruby, was deliriously happy and wasn’t nice at all.

‘Can I have more wine?’

‘Help yourself – here, take the bottle. But promise not to get plastered.’

‘I’m not making promises I might not keep.’ She sighed again. ‘It’s Daniel, it’s my kids, it’s everything, Rube.’

‘Is Jake all right?’

‘Sort of. He’s at university in New York, I think I told you. I insisted he went there. Daniel was annoyed, but black people can lead relatively normal lives in New York, not like in Little Rock. I shall try to persuade Jake to stay when he finishes the course, though I’ll miss him dreadfully. He’s the one person who keeps me sane.’

‘I never think of Jake – or you – as black.’

‘Well, we are,’ Beth said flatly. ‘Daniel and his friends fight against prejudice all the time. They sit in the white section of buses and wait to get thrown off or barge into hotels or restaurants, knowing they’ll be chucked out, often brutally. No one cares that Daniel’s a top-class lawyer, only that he’s black. He’s forever coming home with his head split open, covered in blood.’

‘I suppose you could say that was admirable, Beth,’ Ruby said cautiously. It was the sort of thing she hoped she would do herself.

‘It is, it’s just that he wants me to go with him, other women do. He considers I’m letting him down, which I suppose I am.’ She looked appealingly at Ruby, her lovely velvet eyes moist. ‘But I hate violence. I can’t stand seeing the hate in people’s eyes, their faces all contorted. I’d sooner hide in the house, send Rebecca – she’s our housekeeper – to do the shopping. Daniel and his friends are contemptuous of me. They think I’m a coward – I freely admit that I am.’

‘What about the other children?’ She’d had two girls and another boy.

‘I hardly feel they’re mine.’ Her voice was desolate. ‘Daniel’s mother sets them against me – she’s never liked me much. I’m the wrong colour, the wrong wife for her son, the wrong mother for her grandchildren. She brought her children up to fight and she considers me weak and spineless. My way of dealing with prejudice would be to move to a place where people are more tolerant, where there’s no need to fight. Poor Jake is thoroughly confused. He doesn’t know whose side to be on.’

‘I don’t know what to say, Beth.’ It was far worse than she’d thought.

‘What
is
there to say, Rube?’ She shrugged helplessly. ‘Sometimes, I wish it was just me and Jake again.’ She smiled. ‘Except it never was just us, was it? It was you and your girls as well – and dear old Arthur for a while.’

Beth was sleeping in the girls’ room. Next morning, just after nine, Ruby went in with two cups of tea. Beth was already awake. She sat up and stretched her arms.

‘I slept like a log. This bed’s lovely and soft.’

‘That’s Greta’s. Heather prefers a hard mattress.’

‘She would!’ Beth laughed. ‘What a little madam she was! Always bossing Jake around.’

‘Not to mention Greta, but she’s improved since she met Rob.’

‘Good old Rob. Give us that tea, Rube. I’m desperate. Me mouth feels like a sewer.’

‘You drank too much wine.’ Ruby sat on the bed. ‘Though you look better this morning.’

Beth rolled her eyes. ‘Are you suggesting I looked awful yesterday?’

‘No, but your face is less drawn. Actually, Beth,’ Ruby said gratefully, ‘I’m glad you’re here. The house would have felt peculiar without the girls, knowing they’ll never live here again.’ There hadn’t been time to tidy the room since her daughters had got ready for their wedding. Nighties had been flung over a chair, the dressing table was littered with make-up, face powder had been spilt, the top left off a bottle of June. Ruby put her tea on the floor and went to screw it back on. Heather must have been too excited to be her usual neat and tidy self.

‘If I wasn’t here, I’m sure you’d have had other company,’ Beth glanced at her slyly. ‘Chris Ryan, for instance.’

‘He’s never stayed the night.’

‘I’m sure he’d jump at the chance if it was offered. Unless you’re worried about your reputation?’

Ruby laughed. ‘Since when have I cared about my reputation?’

‘What if your lodgers found out and were so shocked they left?’ It was a relief to see Beth’s eyes dance.

‘The men wouldn’t. Mrs Mulligan might complain, but if she left I’d be glad to see the back of her. Mind you, she gave the girls a lovely tablecloth each for a wedding present, white damask.’ She loathed white tablecloths herself, finding it impossible to get the stains out. Dark, check patterned cloths were best – the stains could hardly be seen.

‘Where’s Tiger? I haven’t seen him since I came.’

‘He spends most of his time in the cellar. Remember that wardrobe he hid in during the raids? He just comes up
for food now and then, has a weary stroll around the garden, then it’s back to the cellar.’

‘I’ll go down and say “hello” later. I’ve never liked cats, apart from Tiger. What are we going to do today?’ she enquired.

‘After Mass – do you still go to Mass?’

‘Of course!’

‘If we get well wrapped up, after Mass, we could go for a walk in the park, then come back for something to eat. I don’t feed the lodgers on Sundays, it’s my day off, so we’ll have the place to ourselves. We’re going to the Quinlans for tea, and tonight Chris is coming.’

‘I’ll feel like a gooseberry.’

‘As long as you don’t
look
like a gooseberry, it doesn’t matter.’

The week flew by. They went to the pictures, to dinner, wandered around the shops that were decorated for Christmas. Beth bought presents to take back home. Sometimes Chris came with them, but Ruby didn’t let on that it was better when he didn’t. Beth looked upon the years they’d spent in the house by Princes Park as a golden time when everything was perfect. She talked about little else; ‘Remember this, Rube. Remember that.’ Ruby had never been inclined to look back, particularly not now that the future seemed so sweet, but she willingly indulged her friend, laughed with her, remembered this and that, held her hand when she cried. She felt more comfortable if Chris wasn’t there during these nostalgic reminders of a period long before they’d met.

One afternoon, they walked to the house in Toxteth where Beth used to live. The woman who answered the door was young and had a baby in her arms. She had no idea who’d lived there before, and when Beth asked at the shop on the corner they knew nothing about a red-haired
Irishwoman who’d been married to a tall man from Jamaica.

‘Well, I suppose that’s that,’ Beth sighed. ‘It would have been nice to see them. Now I’ll never know where they are.’

On Friday, Beth’s last night, Ruby fed her lodgers early, and Connie, Charles, and Martha Quinlan came to dinner. Chris was on duty, or so he claimed. Ruby wondered if he was just being tactful. He would say goodbye to Beth next morning at Lime Street station where she would catch the London train.

‘It’s a pity you’ve come all this way and can only stay a week,’ Martha said to Beth. ‘And the girls are coming home tomorrow. You’ve seen hardly anything of them.’

‘I’d have preferred to stay longer, but it’s Christmas soon and I’ve loads of things to do.’ Beth looked wistful.

‘Perhaps next time you could come and stay a whole month.’

‘But don’t leave it another twelve years until you do,’ Connie put in.

‘Hear, hear,’ echoed Charles. ‘And bring Jake with you. We’d love to see him.’

‘He’d love to see you.’ There were tears in Beth’s eyes. She’d cried too much that week.

She cried again when everyone had gone, sobbed uncontrollably because she didn’t want to go back to Little Rock. ‘I’d forgotten what it was like to feel happy. I almost wish I hadn’t come and been reminded.’

Next morning, she managed to remain dry-eyed when Ruby and Chris saw her on to the London train. She was flying home from Heathrow.

Ruby hugged her fiercely. ‘Come to
our
wedding,’ she urged. ‘We haven’t fixed a date yet, but it’ll be some time next summer.’

‘I’ll try.’

The train chugged out of the station and they waved to each other until it turned a bend and Beth disappeared.

‘I’ve had an idea where we should go for our honeymoon,’ Chris said, putting his arm around a dejected Ruby’s shoulders.

‘Where?’ she sniffed.

‘If Beth doesn’t come to us, then we could go to her. How about spending our honeymoon in the States, New York? We could fly down to Little Rock for the weekend.’

‘Oh!’ Ruby flung her arms around his neck. ‘You are truly the most wonderful man in the world. Whatever did I do to deserve you?’

Everyone had been surprised when the two young couples had decided to honeymoon separately; Greta and Larry had gone to London, Heather and Rob to Devon. Though perhaps it wasn’t all that surprising considering they intended to live together while they saved up a deposit for a house.

‘One house or two?’ Ruby had wanted to know.

‘Don’t be silly, mam,’ Greta laughed. ‘Two, of course.’

‘Though we’ll live close by so we can see each other every day and take our babies for walks,’ Heather announced.

‘Babies!’ Ruby shrieked. ‘Oh, my God! I might soon be a grandmother.’

To her chagrin, Greta had asked Matthew Doyle if he had a place to let. Ruby couldn’t understand why he was always so obliging with her family – the girls had been given a beautiful dinner service each as a wedding present. He’d let them have a self-contained, furnished flat comprising the top half of a narrow, four-storied house in the Dingle not far from where Foster Court, now demolished, used to be.

Greta and Heather had had a wonderful time getting the
flat ready to live in. They were like children with a doll’s house. The rickety furniture was polished, the windows cleaned till they sparkled, pictures and new curtains put up. They would come home from work and excitedly show their mother the flowered teatowels they’d bought in their dinner hour, the various kitchen utensils. Even the purchase of half a dozen pink toilet rolls seemed to give them an inordinate amount of pleasure.

Now Beth had gone and Ruby’s girls were expected home any minute to start their lives as married women.

Another era had ended. Another was about to begin.

Greta Donovan couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been happy, but she’d never thought it possible to be as happy as she was now. Life couldn’t possibly be more perfect. Although Heather hadn’t said anything, every now and then they would look at each other and smile, and Greta would just
know
she felt the same. There was something about Heather’s face – and no doubt her own – a sort of glow, as if she was bubbling over inside, wanting to say things that couldn’t be said because words hadn’t been invented to describe how they felt.

Since she had become a married woman, Greta was convinced she’d grown taller, looked older, become a more responsible person. During the dinner break, she went with her sister to St John’s Market and bought food for their tea. Back at work, she would earnestly discuss what they were having that night with the other married women, who would in turn tell her what they had planned. It was far more interesting than talking about clothes, not that she’d lost
all
interest in clothes.

Larry and Rob always went to a football match on Saturday. If it was an away game, they went in the Volkswagen or on the train if it was very far. The girls took the opportunity to clean the flat from top to bottom, polishing everywhere, changing the beds, and doing the washing. Mam said it was daft, they were doing work for work’s sake, the bedding only needed to be changed every fortnight, and the furniture merely needed dusting, and
then only if the dust could actually be seen. What Mam didn’t realise, was her daughters
enjoyed
doing these things. Nowadays, Greta preferred the smell of polish to June.

What they liked most of all was cooking. There wasn’t time to make anything lavish on weekdays, but the menu was varied so they didn’t have the same meal twice in a week. Greta had discovered she was good at making omelettes which she usually served with sautéed potatoes and salad. Heather could make wonderful puddings, especially trifle, though they only had trifle on Sundays after an ambitious main course of something like Chicken Marengo or Pork and Apple Casserole from Mam’s cookery book which she’d never used, preferring to stick to meals she’d learnt to make at the convent. The book had been given her by one of the lodgers, probably as a hint.

Often, Larry or Rob’s parents would join them, or Mam and Chris. There wasn’t room at the table for more then six people and even then it was a squeeze. Anyroad, they only had five chairs and a stool.