The House by Princes Park (44 page)

Ellie didn’t want him to stay – she’d gone off him completely – but even less did she want him to go. At least he had some life in him, unlike his brother. He pressed an envelope into her hand. ‘That’s my last week’s wages, fifty quid. It should keep you going for a while. Look after yourself, Ellie. Don’t forget, you’re pregnant.’

As if she could!

Ellie’s absence wasn’t allowed to spoil the festive spirit in Mrs Hart’s house. The living room was drenched with paper chains and tinsel and the tree was so big it would only fit in the hall. Heather spent an entire evening decorating it. Gerald Johnson was coming with his children – Lloren, ten, and Rufus, two years older – and she wanted it to look extra special. The students had gone home so accommodation wasn’t a problem. Clint was invited to Christmas dinner along with his parents, the revolting Pixie Shaw and her husband, Brian.

‘Flippin’ hell, Ruby,’ Pixie exclaimed when she came in, her eyes everywhere, ‘This place hasn’t changed a jot since I was last here. You’ve still got the same wallpaper and how you can stand working in that old-fashioned kitchen, I’ll never know.’

‘I like it,’ Clint put in, unusually for him. ‘It’s got character.’

‘So do I,’ remarked Gerald. ‘It’s got charm as well.’ He smiled at Heather, who blushed slightly and smiled back.

‘
I
wouldn’t want it any different.’ Greta had never forgiven Pixie for severing their friendship many years before.

Even the normally unruffled Moira, home from university in Norwich, looked indignant. ‘Me neither.’

‘Oh, well, there’s no accounting for taste,’ said Pixie, entirely unabashed.

‘The place
is
looking a bit shabby, Ruby.’ Matthew glanced around the living room, as if he’d never looked it properly before.

‘I sometimes touch the paintwork up or emulsion over the wallpaper.’ Ruby didn’t give a damn what anyone thought. Like her, the house was showing its age and could do with patching up a bit. ‘Who’d like a drink before dinner?’

‘I’d quite like a cocktail.’

‘I’m afraid I haven’t any cocktails, Pixie. There’s red or white wine, sherry, or beer. Take your pick.’

‘Oh, that’s a shame. Brian bought us a cocktail shaker for Crimbo, didn’t you, luv? If I’d known, I’d have brought it with me. I’ll have a sherry. Sweet, if you’ve got it.’

‘I’ve only got medium.’

‘I’d love a beer,’ said Brian.

Greta jumped to her feet. ‘I’ll get the drinks, Mam, while you get on with the dinner.’

‘Would you like a hand, Ruby?’

‘No thanks, Pixie. I can manage on my own.’ Pixie was bound to notice she was still using the same saucepans and she might feel tempted to hit her with one.

Mid-afternoon, Pixie and Brian Shaw went home to their cocktail shaker. Not long afterwards the Whites and the Donovans arrived for tea. Ellie White tried not to look upset when she was introduced to Gerald Johnson and his children. Having lost her only son, perhaps she sensed she was about to lose his wife. Heather might claim she and Gerald were merely friends, but it was obvious to everyone else it was rather more than that.

‘I suppose they’ll move to Northampton when they get married,’ she said privately to Ruby.

‘There’s been no mention of them getting married yet.’

‘I wonder if Daisy will go with them? She’s our Rob’s daughter. Pretty soon, she’ll be all I’ll have left of him.’

‘Daisy would never leave Clint. Did you know he’s got a job with the Liverpool Playhouse? Only as a stagehand, helping to paint scenery, that sort of thing. He thinks it’s all grist to the mill for when he goes to Hollywood to direct films – movies, he calls them.’

‘Daisy told me.’ Ellie smiled wanly. ‘I wonder what Rob would have thought of Clint? It’s hard to imagine him as a forty-year-old father making judgements on his little girl’s boyfriend. In my mind, he’s still only twenty-three.’ She sighed, her eyes full of pain. ‘Poor Rob, he never had the chance to grow old, did he? Nor Larry.’

Ruby was reminded of Ellie’s words when they arrived at the Whites’ house for tea the following day, minus Heather, who had gone with Gerald and the children to the pantomime at the Empire.

‘I should have stopped her,’ she thought uncomfortably. ‘Not today, it was too late, the children were looking forward to it, but weeks ago, when she first came up with the idea of buying tickets. She should be here. Oh, Lord! I’m the most insensitive person who ever lived.

Chris Ryan was there to remind her of her insensitivity to other people’s feelings. He was with his wife who wasn’t much older than Ruby’s girls, and their son, a delicate little boy of ten who had severe asthma.

Before, at similar gatherings, Chris and Ruby had done no more than smile at each other, perhaps exchange a few polite words. Today, however, Chris followed her into the kitchen when she went for a glass of water after a hectic game of Charades.

‘I was thinking about us the other week,’ he said.

‘Us!’ Ruby replied, taken aback.

‘You, me – us. Did you know we had a terrible scare with Timmy? It was about a month ago. We thought he was going to die.’

‘Oh, Chris! I’m so sorry. I knew he had asthma, that’s all.’

‘He had a particularly bad attack. We didn’t think he was going to make it.’ His eyes clouded over. ‘I can’t think of a worse torture than watching the child you love suffer. You’d give everything you possessed if you could take the pain away, suffer it yourself. Nothing, no one else in the world matters. I guess that’s how you felt about your girls when Rob and Larry died.’

‘I guess it was,’ Ruby said slowly.

Chris smiled drily. ‘It’s taken me all this time to understand. I was a bit of a prig, wasn’t I?’

‘I wouldn’t say that.’

He leant against the wall, hands in pockets. When she’d been in love with him, Ruby had thought him very attractive with enormous charm. In her eyes, he probably wouldn’t have changed had they stayed together Now he was just an ageing man, almost sixty, with thinning hair. There was nothing exceptional about him.

‘I wanted to see you for two reasons,’ he said. ‘One was to confess I’d been a prig, the other to say goodbye. The three of us are off to New Zealand in February. We might not see each other again. The Liverpool air’s no good for Timmy, it’s too damp, and I’ve been at a bit of a loose end since I stopped being a copper. I’m going to start my own security firm.’

‘Good luck. I hope Timmy’s health improves and you do well.’ She held out her hand and Chris took it.

‘I often think about the year we were engaged, how it would have been if we’d got married.’ He held on to her hand and squeezed it. ‘I wish I hadn’t been such a fool, Ruby. I’ll always regret it.’

Ruby pulled her hand away. ‘Well, you shouldn’t,’ she said brusquely. ‘It was over and done with a long time ago. You should look to the future, not the past.
I
always do.’

Not long after Christmas, Matthew Doyle put his big house in Aughton on the market – he urgently needed the cash – and came to stay with Ruby while he looked for somewhere cheaper.

‘I thought you owned loads of houses and flats,’ Ruby exclaimed when the idea was first muted.

‘I got rid of them years ago. They were hardly worth the trouble,’ he said.

‘You didn’t get rid of this one.’

‘Because it’s different, that’s why. This is my second home, the place where, lately, I come and shelter when I’m in trouble.’

Ruby bit her lip. ‘There’s only the little bedroom where there’s hardly room to swing a cat. The others have all got students.’ It didn’t seem right that the owner of the house should have the smallest room.

‘The little bedroom will do me nicely, Rube. It shouldn’t be for long.’

Ruby prepared the room for her temporary guest, painting the woodwork glossy white and the walls a pretty eggshell blue. She bought new bedding - brushed nylon that didn’t need ironing - and a rug for beside the bed. She realised she was quite looking forward to having Matthew stay – if she hadn’t been so horrible, they could have been friends years ago. There were times when she wondered if she was her own worst enemy.

‘Very nice,’ Matthew said approvingly the day he arrived, not long after breakfast when everyone had gone. It was the first of February, bitterly cold, despite the clear blue sky and the distant sun, not nearly strong enough to melt the layer of glittering ice that covered their part of the
earth. The garden was a frosty wonderland and the bare trees looked eerily pretty in their cloak of white. It was a day Ruby would never forget and always regret, despite her frequently expressed belief that one should never look back and regret anything.

She took Matthew upstairs. ‘I hope the bed’s long enough.’

‘Beds usually are.’

‘Lately, you seem to be growing taller,’ she remarked.

‘I’m growing thinner, that’s what. It’s probably an optical illusion.’

‘I’ll feed you up. I hope you like plain cooking. I can’t be bothered with anything fancy. I’ll make us some tea.’ She turned to leave, but he caught her arm.

‘I appreciate this, Rube.’

‘It’s not much, considering all you’ve done for us.’

‘Have you ever wondered why?’

‘Sometimes.’ Ruby shrugged carelessly. ‘I assumed it was because I reminded you of Foster Court, of your gran. Me and the girls were your substitute family.’

‘Is that really what you think?’ He was frowning slightly and his eyes looked very dark. She could feel the tension in the long thin fingers on her arm.

‘What else is there to think?’

‘There could be another reason.’ The fingers were trembling now.

‘And what would that be?’

He released her arm and sat on the bed. ‘I’ve always found it hard to talk to you. Because I wasn’t short of a few bob, you thought I was being patronising. You like to be on equal terms with people or, better still, on top. Well, now it’s different.’ He looked at her directly and Ruby was reminded of the first time they’d met, when he’d been so unsure of himself. It was an expression she’d never seen since. ‘By the end of the year, I’m likely to be skint, so now I can tell you how I feel – how I’ve felt, ever since
you came through the door downstairs covered in paint. I...’

The phone rang. ‘Just a minute,’ Ruby said, and ran down to answer it.

It was Clint, wanting Daisy. ‘She’s at the dentist,’ Ruby informed him. ‘Didn’t she tell you?’

‘Oh, yes. I forgot.’ He began a rambling explanation. They were meeting for lunch, but he’d be late. He’d see her in McDonald’s instead of by the theatre. ‘If I don’t turn up at all, I’ll drop in the Forum sometime this afternoon and say hello.’

There was a mirror by the telephone. Ruby stared at her reflection. She saw a woman who didn’t look her fifty-seven years, a woman who nowadays would be described as handsome, as good-looking women were when they grew older. Her black hair was sprinkled with grey - the tint she’d had for Christmas had almost washed out. Her neck was lined, getting scraggy, she thought. Perhaps she’d better start wearing polo necks. After a while, as Clint’s voice droned on about something or other, the reflection grew blurred, while at the same time the meaning of Matthew’s words, of what he’d been about to say, became clear. He’d been about to tell her that he loved her! He’d almost got the words out, but she’d thought it more important to answer the phone.

There were footsteps on the stairs, brisk and fast. Matthew was coming down, his face stony. He was wearing a padded jacket, obviously on his way out.

‘Clint,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I have to ring off.’

‘Don’t forget to tell Daisy.’

‘No.’ She slammed down the receiver just as Matthew opened the front door. ‘What was it you wanted to tell me?’ she called, surprised to find that she was trembling and her heart had leapt to her throat. It was vital that she hear the words he’d been about to say before she’d interrupted him so rudely.

‘It doesn’t matter now.’ His voice was bitter. ‘Anyroad, it was nothing important.’

The door slammed. Ruby groaned and sank on to the stairs, head in her hands. She’d made many mistakes in her life, but now she’d just made the biggest mistake of all.

Ellie hadn’t thought it possible for Christmas to be so dead miserable. She’d gone with Felix to the little village church for Midnight Mass and woke up late next morning.

Christmas
morning, she thought gloomily, and imagined waking up at home where there’d be loads of presents under the tree which would be opened after breakfast – Gran always made a lavish breakfast on such a special day and everyone would eat it together for a change. The telly would be on, even if no one was watching, and carols could be heard all over the house.

She supposed she’d better get up. Ellie put one foot on the floor, winced, and put it back under the covers. The linoleum was freezing and she didn’t have any slippers. She managed to get dressed without getting off the bed. Her tummy was getting quite big, she noted, although the baby wasn’t due till May, and she was already wearing maternity frocks. She threw back her shoulders, took a deep breath, and went downstairs.

‘Good morning, Ellie.’ Felix was in the parlour, a small, dark room at the back of the house, where a fire struggled to burn in the black grate and half a dozen Christmas cards stood on the mantelpiece. Liam hadn’t sent one, nor had he, so far, made the promised telephone call. Ellie had no wish to speak to him if he did. ‘Would you like some tea?’ Felix enquired courteously.

‘Please.’ He treated her like an invalid, which she didn’t mind, preferring to be waited on rather than the other way round.

He went to fetch the tea and Ellie sat in one of the old-fashioned armchairs and held out her hands to the fire. The
armchair felt damp. Everything in the house felt damp; the walls, the floors, the furniture, her bed. It was no wonder Liam and his sister had left. Even their mother had gone the minute her husband died. He’d been a miser, according to Mrs McTaggart who came in three times a week to do the washing and clean. Eammon Conway had owned the village chemist which was a little gold mine, being the only one for miles, but had refused to spend a penny on his family or the house. Instead, the money had gone on the horses, so there was nothing for his wife and children when the fatal heart attack struck.