A Liverpool Song (20 page)

The man of the house stared at his glass of water for several seconds. ‘If we’re all coming clean, you may as well know that Andrew has a sister. Well, a half-sister. Betsy never
wanted kids, but Daisy came along. She’s handicapped. Never said a word so far, but she loves being read to, likes music and teddies. Three, and all she wants is soft toys. She’s
registered as Marty Liptrott’s child, but she’s mine. That poor bugger was impotent.’

Emily placed a hand on her husband’s arm. ‘I’m sorry, Joseph.’

Geoff spoke. ‘Andrew needs you, too, Joseph. A boy needs his father. Perhaps he should meet his sister one day.’

Emily agreed. ‘He deserves the whole truth.’

Joe nodded. ‘I’ve grown fond of the lass. But she’s not expected to live till adulthood. See, in a funny way, she’s perfect because of her disability. Daisy can do no
wrong. She’s a little angel with blonde curls and a sweet face. But her brain’s buggered.’ He twisted the glass. ‘She never cries, never laughs.’ He wanted to cry,
though.

Geoff, who had seen more than enough damaged children, offered no comment. This poor man had lived long enough with his secrets.

‘So, are you going home with him?’ Joe asked.

‘No, I’m staying here with Andrew. Also with my best friend, Joseph Sanderson. You’ve always been good to me. You’re a brilliant dad, teaching him carpentry and listening
to him when he wants to talk. I don’t want to lose you, either. There’s no hatred, and there never was. Carry on being my friend, please.’

Joe, almost in tears, nodded. She was right. She was always bloody right. But he couldn’t lose her. She was his best friend and, compared to him, she was so honest. Betsy and Daisy, hidden
away like dirty secrets – Emily was prepared to speak the truth, at least.

Geoff stood up. Although these two were hardly man and wife, they still shared intimate moments during which he remained an intruder. ‘Bye, Emily,’ he said. ‘See you at
work.’ He didn’t kiss her. Whatever happened between her and him was private, as was her time with the father of her son. He pitied Joe, yet respected him too well to allow that to
show. Joe Sanderson would work himself to the bone and all the way to millionairedom. And, like Geoff, he loved her.

Forty-four years later, Andrew remembered the day well. There’d been a fly on the landing. Nothing dramatic, not a bluebottle, just a common housefly with absolutely no
brain. A newly spun web stretched across a corner of the oriel bay, a luxury afforded to the house as it was end-of-terrace. In truth, it was a rather splendid house: built-in wardrobes,
magnificent fitted kitchen, all wooden furniture built by the man downstairs. In fact, Dad had been talking about going into upholstery . . .

The man downstairs was Andrew’s father, while the second fellow was Mother’s beloved. This was all so weird. He wished he’d gone out, but he’d realized
that something was afoot and wanted to be an ear witness, and he couldn’t very well walk out in the middle of everything. That fly on the window needed a map and binoculars.

Dr Shaw seemed a decent enough bloke, straight, honest and protective of Mother. But Dad was hurt. There was something missing in his voice, as if he’d suddenly lost weight through
illness. Mother was going to walk out on Dad. No, she wasn’t; they were leaving the decision to Andrew. ‘I’m just a kid,’ he mouthed silently.

Then he heard about his half-sister, child of that dirty woman from the cul-de-sac behind Stuart’s house and shop. The little girl was disabled. Poor Dad had kept that to himself until
now. She was lovable, since she was never naughty, because she didn’t know how to be naughty. It was so sad. Sadder still for the stupid housefly, now tangled in the web of a skilled
predator. The fly suddenly seemed to be an omen of some kind, though Andrew didn’t believe in omens.

Mother’s lover left the house. Dad was sobbing like a child. ‘If you knew how much I love you . . .’

Andrew couldn’t bear any more. They were busy, so he took the opportunity to escape just as the spider returned to claim its prize. Dad was still crying, while Mother made sounds that were
meant to be comforting.

He caught up easily with Dr Shaw. ‘I heard it all,’ Andrew said. ‘And I’d rather my mother didn’t know that.’

Geoff stopped walking. ‘All right. Would you like to come to my flat?’

For answer, just a nod was offered.

‘Bit of a mess,’ the visitor remarked once inside Geoff ’s place.

‘Oh, it’s really quite tidy. Your mother says this room’s like the inside of my head – chaotic.’

‘Is she right?’

‘No, she isn’t. As a doctor, I live the careful life. This is my rebellion.’

‘Aren’t you rather old to be a rebel?’

Geoff laughed heartily. ‘Not all rebels wear drainpipe trousers and long jackets. Some of us are born rebellious. I hated school, church and Mrs Armistead. She was self-elected queen of
our street. If your windows weren’t clean, she’d tell you. If your curtains needed a wash, she’d send you a note. If you weren’t a churchgoing family, she’d send the
vicar or, worse still, the vicar’s wife, thin as a rake, all in black. The weapon in her hand was the Bible.’

Andrew thought about that. ‘What if you were Jewish?’

‘No idea. Judaism would be a bit exotic for Mrs Armistead. She couldn’t manage even Roman Catholics. As for gypsies and beggars, she chased them with her clothes prop.’

Andrew sat. ‘Will you look after Mother? He’s always looked after her, you see. And he’s pretty rich.’

It occurred to Geoff that he was being interviewed. Usually, the woman’s father did the vetting, but this wasn’t a usual situation. ‘I’ll do my damnedest. So will your
dad, because they’ll always be close in their own way.’

‘It’s weird, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, I suppose it must be from your point of view. All I can tell you is that I fell in love, and she eventually felt the same. It took a while, Andrew. Your mother’s a woman of
principle. But I chipped away till I got through the ice.’

‘You’ve made her happy. Now, what do I call you?’

‘Not Dad. You’ve got a decent father in full working order.’

‘Geoff, then?’

‘It’s my name. Yes, Geoff will do.’

There followed a short pause for thought. ‘Geoff?’

‘What?’

‘My sister.’

‘Oh. Right. The sister you don’t know about because you weren’t eavesdropping.’

‘Bugger.’

Geoff agreed. ‘Double bugger. You’re best off admitting to being in the house and overhearing by accident. Then there’s the other matter. School.’

Andrew had the answer to that one. ‘Moving now while schools are closed for summer would be mad. As for renting or buying and selling houses in the space of a few weeks – more
madness. Then you have to find a job. It would all be too much of a panic.’

‘So we stay.’

‘Yes.’

Most kids of Andrew’s age would be rampaging about and inflicting damage on innocent furniture, yet this lad was as cool as a frozen cucumber. ‘This must be hurting you,’ Geoff
said.

‘It is. But, you see, I hated Dad for a long time. I was about thirteen, but I’m into my seventeenth year now. Things change. Dad and I are OK at last, but Mother’s really
important to me. Of course, I’d prefer it if they stayed together, only that wouldn’t make her happy, would it? The way I look at it is that one of them will be happy.’ He looked
directly into his companion’s face. ‘My life hasn’t begun yet – the part where I make my own choices. But I tell you now, hurt her and I’ll kill you. And I mean
that.’

Because the threat had been made without anger, Geoff understood only too well that it was meant. ‘She and the job are my world, Andrew.’

The younger man blinked. ‘It’s vital that she stays steady. She’ll be comforting him now, and they’ll be crying. However life turned out for them, it was theirs.
It’s all they know. The other thing is that we both almost died the day I was born. I know she’s over forty, but if she does . . . you know what I mean. We could lose her.’

‘Yes, I know all that. It won’t happen.’

‘Promise?’

‘On a stack of Mrs Armistead’s Bibles. And more to the point, on the lives of two women I adore – my mother and yours.’

With that, Andrew had to be satisfied.

He walked home slowly. In two years, he would be miles away, probably cutting up corpses from a Liverpool morgue. It was time to find his grandparents; he needed to see what they were made
of.

‘Well, I have to admit, Mary, we had fun. Our son fell to bits, because no way could he cope with Richard. We had a symphony orchestra – what a bloody mess. The dog
you sent wiped us all out. He has a good baritone, though he goes a bit flat now and again. I must send for the tuner. He can do both pianos and the mutt.’

‘Dad?’

He straightened and turned. It was Ian. ‘Hello, son.’

‘Still talking to her?’

‘Of course. By the way, your Eliza wears the same perfume. Mary used Estee Lauder, too. What’s going on in there?’

‘Richard’s going on. He made the second set of crackers himself. He used newspaper and wrote our names in lurid orange on each one. A very amusing man.’

‘He made you laugh.’ Andrew cleared his throat. ‘It was good to see you laughing, Ian. You’re such a serious family, you, Eliza and the boys.’

The younger man raised his eyebrows. ‘Not always, I can assure you.’

Andrew stumbled on. ‘Your mother and I were rather selfish, you see. Wrapped up in each other. We should have given more time to our children.’

Ian shrugged. ‘I never felt deprived in the least way. This is how I am, Father. The boys are the same, and my wife’s studious. But we have fun. We swim, play chess and bridge. Then
there’s the sky-diving. The children are very young, but they’re eager to join in when they’re older.’

‘Your marriage is happy?’

‘Very. Look, too much emphasis is placed on parental guilt. You gave us a good life, excellent holidays, you did your best, and we were well provided for.’ He blushed.
‘I’m proud of you. Look at the number of lives you saved among bacterial meningitis sufferers. Look how many supposedly necrotized limbs you rescued. Then there was your famous bone
putty. They don’t give out OBEs like dolly mixtures. My patients ask after you. Eliza has a scrapbook that holds every newspaper and
Lancet
article about you or written by you.
We’re quiet people. My sons are quiet people. That’s all there is to it.’

‘Thank you.’

‘What for?’

‘For telling me we weren’t to blame, Mary and I.’

‘We are all what we are, Father. But our lifespan will be somewhat abbreviated if we don’t get inside and pull Richard’s crackers.’

They walked towards the house.

‘Sky-diving?’

‘Yes, Father. Sky-diving. There are books and covers, you see. Never judge one by the other. Daniel Pope’s all cover and no substance. By comparison, you, Helen, Kate, Richard, Eliza
and I are a full set of encyclopaedias.’ They stopped at the door. ‘Find another wife, Dad.’

‘On which page did you find that, Ian?’

‘It’s on the bookmark. Do it.’

The crackers were wonderful; well, their contents were wonderful. Richard explained the women’s gifts. ‘One, I got them at cost – please don’t ask where. For all I know,
they may be the ill-gotten gains of one of my rather less than innocent clients. In my game, it’s silly to ask too many questions. Two, I get to touch other women. My ball and chain here
doesn’t allow me to touch other women.’ He fastened delicate gold chains round the neck of every female. Even Sofia and Anya were included. From each chain, a small pearl hung.

While stroking Sofia’s neck, he spoke to his wife. ‘She has wonderful skin, Kate. You can put your own jewellery on. I can strangle you whenever I please.’

Andrew hid a smile. This was a magnificent marriage. He watched his family and was suddenly relieved and glad that they were here. Perhaps he wouldn’t become a dog-walking recluse after
all?

The men had silver cufflinks decorated only by a large hallmark celebrating the millennium. ‘I’m already wearing mine,’ Richard announced, displaying the proof.

For the children, there was a bran tub. Ian and Eliza’s twin boys distributed gifts, thereby proving that they could read names. Storm received a huge bone, which item he dragged happily
all through the house. Already, Andrew could hear Eva: ‘Who’s done this to me parquet?’ Perhaps he should carpet the whole house.

In the midst of merriment, Daniel Pope arrived. As he entered the largest room in the house, a heavy silence fell. Even Helen’s baby became still in her carrycot. One by one, people began
to leave the room. As his wife followed the rest, Daniel tried to stop her, but she avoided him. ‘Your little girls are over there,’ she told him. ‘You’re here to visit
them, no one else.’ She ushered her siblings’ children out into the hall, leaving him behind with two daughters he had neither wanted nor needed.

Ian waited for her. ‘Come on, Helen. He’s not worth a single tear. I’d have loved a daughter, and we may well try again, but we take what we’re given, don’t
we?’

Eliza joined her husband. ‘All right, Helen? Eva left a Christmas cake, and your father’s been voted in to be taster. If he gets out alive, we’ll all have some. He’s
already doing the I-am-choking-to-death bit.’

The party didn’t pick up after that. Daniel’s head appeared briefly while he announced his intention to leave. He had spent barely ten minutes with his daughters. As he walked down
the gravel path, he seemed hunched, older and defeated.

‘You going to do that mediation thing, Helen?’ Kate asked her sister.

‘Yes, I suppose so.’

Kate glared. ‘You’re mad.’

It was in that moment that Richard showed his colours. ‘Kate? Leave it. Every marriage deserves a chance, and no two marriages are alike. What happens next between Helen and Daniel is
their business.’

Andrew was watching Anya. She understood more English than she cared to admit. And she was a very pleasant woman . . .

Andrew and Stuart Abbot, supposedly brothers, were worn out. A merciless sun glared into their eyes as they followed a path that meandered across about half of Lancashire, east
to west, turned north for a mile, west again, south, back to west and the dazzling rays – it was crazy. ‘This is like a maze without bushes,’ Andrew announced. ‘Why
couldn’t they get land in a straighter line?’