A Liverpool Song (25 page)

Stuart peeled off in the direction of town, leaving Andrew to face the music alone. ‘What do you want?’ was his greeting. His cheeks were warm, and he hoped he wasn’t blushing
too brightly.

‘To see you,’ replied Irene Beauchamp.

‘And your mother,’ her husband added.

Andrew dropped his case of books on their car bonnet. ‘She doesn’t know I came to visit you,’ he said. ‘And she wouldn’t be pleased if she found out. How did you
find me?’

‘Phoned a few schools,’ Alan said. ‘You’re something special according to your headmaster. He said the Royal College of Music’s after you, but you’re not
taking the place. Still stuck on being a doctor.’

Andrew made no reply.

‘You’re our grandson,’ Irene said.

‘And my mother’s your daughter, but you wanted to sell her on, so she’ll have nothing to do with you, and neither shall I. You should have treated her better, and you know
it.’

Irene sniffed and patted her eyes with a handkerchief.

‘We’ll keep coming till we see her.’ Alan nodded vigorously. ‘We’ll not give up, I’m telling you. We did wrong. But we want to make good, see she’s all
right, make provision.’

‘You don’t need to see her to do that. Just alter your will or whatever, but stay away from my mother. Anyway, she’s at work for a while yet.’

‘What does she do?’ Irene asked.

‘I’m not discussing her with you.’ He’d done enough damage already. ‘Go away, please.’ He picked up his bag and ran towards town. They turned the car and
followed him. Weaving in and out of narrow streets and back alleys, he still failed to shake them off. Whenever he returned to a main road, there they were, sitting, waiting.

He finally lost them when he crossed Trinity Street pedestrian bridge. Breathing heavily, he went into the train station and hid in the men’s lavatories. His grandparents, last seen stuck
in a car outside St Patrick’s, wouldn’t seek him here. But he’d better tell Mother, because everyone was findable. Dad still had the works off Folds Road, Mother worked at the
infirmary, and the grandparents were far from stupid.

He shouldn’t have done it. He should have left well alone. But now he needed to prepare his mother for the inevitable. The trouble was that Mother wouldn’t blow her top and tell him
off. She’d be sad. Making her sad was something he hated, because he couldn’t bear her disappointment. Failing her was what he dreaded most in life. She was too precious for all this,
and had she wanted or needed her parents she was perfectly capable of dealing with the matter herself.

So, he had to tell her. Like a Catholic preparing for confession, he lined up his sins and rehearsed the delivery silently. Dear God, she didn’t deserve any of it. She was blissfully happy
these days, and an amazingly civilized relationship was developing slowly between Dad and Geoff, since they seemed to get along so well. Dad had learned a great deal from his relationship with
Betsy and from the birth of Daisy, and his anger seemed to have dissipated. Who could dislike Geoff, anyway? And who could possibly dislike Mother?

He walked home slowly. Boys were supposed to walk reluctantly to school; for once, Andrew trudged reluctantly the other way. From time to time, he looked over his shoulder to see if he could
spot a certain car, but there was no sign of it. Yet they would be back. There was a stubbornness in them, a quality he seemed to have inherited. Oh yes, they would most certainly come back.

Daniel opened the door of Thornton Hall, surprised beyond measure to find his father-in-law standing on the top step. ‘Erm . . .’ He couldn’t put his tongue
across a single sensible word. Andrew had this effect sometimes. He was a highly respected surgeon, an OBE, and a decent man. And Daniel had tried to fool him.

Andrew pushed dithering Daniel aside and walked into the house. ‘You’ll be rattling round here like a pea on a drum, I expect,’ he said by way of greeting. ‘Rather like I
was until Helen and the children arrived with Sofia.’ He looked the householder up and down. ‘I know what happened earlier, Daniel. And you must have realized that I set it up. She
doesn’t want to see you.’

‘I gathered that.’

‘To be fair, I must tell you that she didn’t know anything about my arrangement. Richard and company were hiding in the summerhouse, so Helen had no idea. But never try to kid a
kidder, because you’ll fail. I’ve been devious in my time.’ He thought about his grandparents and the dance he had led them. Yes, his planning skills had improved greatly with
age.

Daniel shrugged and found his tongue. ‘You were right not to trust me, I suppose. You see, I need to talk to her. All this with solicitors – it becomes Chinese whispers after a
while. Once the words hit paper, they take on a life of their own and make everything so much worse. She loves me. And, despite all rumours to the contrary, I love her. Come through and sit down,
please.’

Andrew followed his son-in-law.

They settled in the opulent drawing room. ‘So you want to talk her round?’ Andrew asked. ‘Then you can lead her back to square one, with her on Merseyside and you fornicating
your way across the world?’

‘Something like that, but without the women. Someone else can do the travelling.’

‘Wrong answer, Daniel. She needs to trust you without having to become your jailer. Even if you did stay in the country, there’s little to prevent you doing the same thing here, and
her suspicions can’t be eradicated just because you stop using aeroplanes.’ He paused. ‘I understand the need to sow oats – I did it myself in my late teens and early
twenties. But once I’d met Mary, that was all in the past. If you loved Helen, you wouldn’t need other women.’

‘We aren’t all the same, Andrew.’

‘In some respects we are all different, I suppose. But you adore your mother, and I worshipped mine – we have that in common. When we were young, we respected the women in our
families, so when did your attitude change?’

Daniel nodded thoughtfully. ‘Tell me, did your mum try to keep you locked up? Did she attempt to control your every move?’

‘Never. But, you see, she was an unusual woman. In a time when changing partners was a disgrace, she led a somewhat bohemian existence. I’ve always regarded her as a quiet
trailblazer. She lived with the man she loved, and cared for the man she’d married.’

‘Well, mine did try to stop me having a life outside her reach, so I learned escape techniques, how to lie, how to be evasive. My development seems to have been arrested at that point. I
still have the need to get away with things. There was stuff I couldn’t even mention at home. Like when I needed a support for sports at school – I made my own. The thing is, I was so
repressed that I couldn’t walk into a sports shop and buy what I wanted. Nor could I ask my parents. If people kissed on the TV, it was “Turn that rubbish off”, so I was raised
knowing that sex was taboo and was something I had to find secretly.’

‘And you’re being treated as a sex addict?’

‘No. It’s deeper and more complicated than that, but the counsellor didn’t see it. I didn’t tell her much. She was another judgemental type, and I couldn’t talk to
her. I do love your daughter, but the teenager in me never grew up and still needs his conquests. Not now. As a single man, I have no one to hide from, no challenges. I am now totally
celibate.’

Andrew stood up and began to pace up and down, hands joined behind his back. The man was being unexpectedly honest. ‘Helen and Kate often say you’re your mother’s monster. I
suppose there’s more than a whisper of truth in that.’

Daniel shrugged. ‘I’m also an adult. Whatever my mother is or was, I should be able to control my stupid urges. I brought this all on myself, Andrew. If my mother has ruined my life,
am I a man?’

‘Oh yes, yes, of course you are.’ He stopped pacing. ‘My stepfather almost became a psychologist, then he got the irresistible urge to treat children, hence his segue into
paediatrics. But he could have analysed you, I’m sure.’ He stopped pacing. ‘Would you like me to find someone who might help you?’

‘I can’t talk to women.’

‘Fair enough. Leave it with me, but please stay away from Helen in the meantime. Richard has many friends in the law game, and Kate will do just about anything for her sister. Oh, and stay
away from your mother, too. The cotton wool she wrapped you in was toxic. I’ll go now. I have to pick up Helen and the girls.’

At that moment, his phone vibrated and gave out the text sound. He opened the message. COME AND GET ME NOW, PLEASE. HELEN. ‘She’s had enough. Look, I’ll phone you.’ He
dashed into the hall.

‘What’s the matter?’ Daniel asked. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

‘Yes. Eat some protein and vegetable matter. You look like Dracula waiting for nightfall. And don’t give up hope.’ He jumped into his car and drove off.

Within minutes, he was at Barbara’s house, where he found Helen, Sarah and Cassie in the driveway, the latter swaddled in a shawl in her mother’s arms. ‘Whatever’s the
matter?’ he asked.

‘Don’t ask, Daddy. Just get us home.’

In the car, Andrew waited for his daughter to speak. He noticed that her knuckles were white, as was her face. Like the man he had left minutes earlier, she looked as if she needed a few square
meals. ‘I thought she was my friend,’ she whispered. ‘All she wanted was gossip about me and Daniel. It took her a few hours to get round to it, but I felt I was in the
dock.’

‘Oh dear. Why didn’t you send for me earlier?’

‘I had to get to the bathroom with my phone. In the end, I asked her would she like me to affirm, as I wouldn’t swear on a Bible before giving evidence. Then there was all the stuff
about her not knowing what I meant by that, and about the whole of Neston being concerned for me and the children. Oh, how I wish Kate had been there. She’s my backbone.’

‘You have your own backbone, sweetie. You’re a remarkable woman, a linguist, a beauty, a great mother. Close your eyes and have a rest. Sofia will be back, and when she’s fed
and washed the children you, she and I will have the goulash I prepared yesterday. Everything will be fine, I promise.’

He couldn’t tell her yet that he’d spoken to Daniel. All he could do was drive through life in the dark like everyone else. He was picking up handkerchiefs again, but they
didn’t have moors in Venice. Oh, Eva. Unforgettable, unforgivable, yet so lovable . . .

The official offer from the Royal School of Music arrived, and Andrew discussed it with his parents. Dad still came home at the weekends, so life continued in a vein with which
all were familiar. ‘You’re not going, then?’ Joe asked. ‘What I mean is, you did so well at the audition, might you regret turning this down? You do have the edge, son,
because you compose for the piano as well as playing like a concert pianist.’

Andrew shook his head sadly. ‘If I could do both medicine and music, I would. But the offer’s in from Liverpool, too, depending on my exam results, of course. And medicine’s
what I want for a career. Mother, I’ll never give up music; Dad, I’ll always do bits of carpentry, but I want to be a doctor. I think I’ve always wanted that, can’t remember
not wanting it.’

Dad awarded his son an encouraging wink before going off to check on the Folds Road factory, leaving Andrew with the opportunity to talk to his mother.

He didn’t know where to start. Unused to being tongue-tied, he ran upstairs to check on his notes. There was no way of dressing up what he had to say, yet he dreaded the hurt he might
cause. After many false starts while making his notes, he had reached the conclusion that he must just say it. Like a diabetic injecting insulin, he needed to be quick, because quick was kinder.
Poor Mother. She deserved a better son, one who wouldn’t run about looking for the family she’d rejected.

When he came downstairs, Thora had planted herself yet again in a dining-room chair. She was talking about everybody in the street, especially ‘her at number thirty-one’ who was
letting the side down by failing to clean windows. ‘They say the last time she bothered, King George had just died, so that’s 1952. February, I think.’

Mother simply nodded; she didn’t like gossip, but her neighbour was always full of it.

‘Seems she got a shock when the windows were clean. She could see out. With her never leaving the house for years, she forgot there were other people in the street.’ Thora dipped a
custard cream in her tea. ‘It’s her husband I feel sorry for. Shift work, then all the shopping on top, so it’s not fair on the poor man. She needs a kick up the Khyber, I
think.’

‘It’s agoraphobia,’ Emily said.

‘Aggra-what? Aggravating, that’s what I call it.’

‘She’s frightened, Thora.’

‘What of? What’s to be afeared of round these parts?’

‘Nothing. You know that, and I know that. But when you’re talking to your mother while she’s making sandwiches in the scullery, and the scullery and your mother get sliced off
by a German bomb, you’re allowed to go strange, especially when you have your own injuries to endure.’

Thora’s jaw dropped. It wasn’t a pretty sight, as she’d switched from custard creams to bourbons, so the inside of her mouth was colourful. ‘How do you know all that,
Emily?’

‘Because I spoke to her husband, and he took me across to meet her. She keeps a lovely house and yes, she knows about the windows. Kitty, her name is. Her daughter’s coming to clean
the windows and to put up thick lace curtains, so don’t condemn her, Thora.’

Andrew watched while Thora seemed to shrivel physically. She didn’t enjoy being proved wrong. She stood up. ‘Well, I suppose you’ve no room to talk, anyway. You do understand
you could both lose your jobs, eh?’

After a pause, Emily said. ‘Yes.’

‘And your husband still in the picture?’

Emily continued to dust the mantelpiece. ‘Don’t threaten me. I’d be quite happy to have you charged with slander, and with blackmail. People who have little to do often spend
time pulling others to pieces. At least I’m not poor Kitty. At least you finally found the courage to talk to my face rather than behind my back. Go home, Thora. Go home now. In spite of
rumour to the contrary, I do have my limits. When my temper does finally go, you’ll need to be in another country, because I’ll see you in court unless you make a run for it.’