A Liverpool Song (35 page)

‘I know, but I was still scared.’

He wasn’t the type to make a mess, Mary thought. The man probably knew his limits and would leave alone things that didn’t suit or interest him. Rugby, soccer and motorbikes were
unlikely to be his scene – too many broken bones. ‘I took the ring off.’

‘I noticed.’

‘Do you ever miss anything?’

‘Meals,’ was his swift reply. ‘And when my glucose level plummets, I’m a monster.’ He pulled up outside his mother’s house. ‘Gladstone was born over the
road there. Queen Victoria hated him, said he talked to her as if addressing a public meeting. The Stanley who said, “Dr Livingstone, I presume?” was from Rodney Street. But shall we
save the education and questions and answers until later? I have a comfortable double bed.’

But Mary had decided that this was going to be a serious relationship, and should be treated as such. ‘I have to tell John first. And he won’t be home till next month. I’m
sorry, but that’s the way I am.’

Andrew already knew the way she was. Decent, honourable, amusing, beautiful and his. He could wait. It wouldn’t be easy, but he’d do it.

The light supper was very civilized for such an eccentric household. Mrs Sanderson fed both her husbands while they chatted together about kitchens and infantile diabetes. Andrew, sitting
opposite her, was not civilized. He removed a shoe and ran his foot up and down her legs. ‘Stop it,’ she said.

‘What’s he doing?’ Joe asked.

‘He’s getting familiar under the table.’

Joe clouted his son rather gently across his head. ‘Can’t hit him any harder, love,’ he said. ‘Brain’s scrambled enough as it is.’

Geoff studied his stepson. ‘You always have to push it too far, don’t you, Andrew?’ He turned to Mary. ‘His skeleton, George, gets put to bed every night. Andrew says
standing up all the time is too stressful for the joints.’

Mary tried not to choke on her sandwich. No wonder her beloved-in-waiting was mad. The whole crowd was mad.

Emily sighed. ‘All I wanted was the ordinary life.’

Mary laughed. ‘Be grateful. The ordinary life can be tedious.’ He was doing the foot-on-the-leg thing again. She awarded him one of her collection of dirty looks, but it didn’t
work. Nothing worked. Nothing would ever work, though there would be no inequality, not with this man. Underneath the brashness, a gentle soul resided.

The phone rang, and Emily went to answer it. When she returned, her face was grey, and she held out her arms to Joseph, the rejected husband turned best friend. He stood and walked into the
offered embrace.

‘I’m sorry, sweetheart,’ Emily said. ‘That was Betsy’s sister. Betsy had a stroke while out shopping. She didn’t make it, Joseph.’

Geoff joined them, and all three clung together.

‘Daisy,’ Joe sobbed. ‘What will happen to her now, Em?’

‘I don’t care what we have to do,’ Geoff said. ‘We’ll see she’s catered for, Joe. Daisy belongs to all of us now.’

The foot-on-the-leg business stopped. A lone tear crawled down Andrew’s cheek. ‘My half-sister,’ he explained to Mary. ‘She needs constant care.’

So Mary and Andrew were left alone in the huge house while the others went to St Helens. He told her about Dad and how he had hated him. He told her about Marty Liptrott’s suicide and the
part he felt he had played in it. ‘I was so damned rude and arrogant, Mary. He hanged himself, and the house set on fire because he’d left the chip pan bubbling away. Drunk, of course,
but still a grieving human being.’

‘So your mother found someone else because of your dad playing away?’

He shook his head sadly. ‘No, nothing like that. Mother was assistant almoner at Bolton Royal. She and Geoff were like you and me – an accident. It was hard for me to understand the
dynamics of their situation, because at first Dad was angry with Geoff. But it’s impossible to stay angry with Geoff; he’s such a genuine, decent bloke. And Mother never stopped loving
Dad, but their relationship had shifted towards brother and sister before Geoff appeared. Now, they’re a family.’ He shrugged. ‘I have two dads. I also have a handicapped
half-sister who must be looked after. God, life can be hard.’

She took his hand. ‘I’m here for you, Andrew.’

He told her about Mother’s history, the marrying for land plan, her escape, her swift marriage to Dad, who had no land and no family. This ran into the plot he had concocted, his meeting
with the grandparents, their joy at being reconciled with their daughter. ‘And they all lived happily ever after,’ he concluded. ‘But it’s no fairy tale, Mary. Life still
happens, as does death. Poor Betsy, poor Daisy. She is the most incredibly beautiful girl who walks and grunts, but she can’t look after herself, of course. Betsy dedicated her whole life to
her daughter, and I’m not surprised about the stroke, because she had a difficult time of it. Dad always took care of them financially, which was all he could do, really.’

‘And I thought life down Scotland Road was stressful. Mam and Dad won a few bob on the pools and buggered off to Cornwall last year. They’d moved to Kirkby, and they were all right,
but they love Cornwall. It’s a tiny stone cottage in the countryside, just a few miles from the sea. They’re happy, though they miss their kids. Six of us in a two-bedroom flat above
the shop. Mam and Dad slept in the living room so that the girls could have one bedroom, while the boys had the other. Pam lived a few doors along in the flat above another shop. She’s the
one who put you in the kitchen. My best friend, is Pam.’

He offered to take her home, but she insisted on staying. ‘I’m not leaving you to fret on your own, only I’m not sleeping with you.’

But they did sleep together. He buried his head in her upper body and, in darkness, told her all about Daisy, about his early assessment of Betsy having been wrong, about Dad and his genius with
wood, about Stuart, about grandparents, about a house known as New Moon. He told her he loved her too much to break her rule about John, that she was his future and he would wait.

When he finally slept, a few more sobs made their escape, and she cradled his poor head, trying to stroke away the unhappiness. It was then that she realized that she had collected her first
child, that this doctor and brilliant pianist, older than she was, more vulnerable than she had imagined, was about to become her much-loved responsibility. Mary remembered a lecture on psychology,
where the tutor had said, ‘When I see a young man with his girl, I see someone who has found his next mother. Much more than a mother, of course, but there to nurse the pain and bind the
wounds.’ It had sounded so daft at the time, but now the message seemed real and true.

She released him gently, made sure he remained asleep, and went to the bathroom. In the mirror, she saw an unkempt girl wearing a pyjama top that hung like a collapsed tent round her tiny frame.
She also saw a fabulous bathroom. Earlier, she’d viewed his Sanderson kitchen, his massive living room, a spare room, a gigantic bedroom. ‘We can live here,’ she told the mirror
before returning to look after him.

He woke. ‘Where were you?’

‘Bathroom. Go to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning.’

And she was.

They separated the next day. Andrew drove Mary to Sefton Park, where she picked up her belongings, Pam, and Pam’s belongings. He installed the two girls in his flat at
Mother’s house, while he went to live with Dad. Dad needed looking after. While Joe would be fed across the road at Emily’s house, he drew the line at sleeping there, a decision of
which Andrew approved. Joe had his pride, and he owned every right to that pride in whichever form he decided to exercise it.

Pam couldn’t believe her luck. ‘No rent?’

‘No rent,’ Mary repeated. ‘We just have to feed ourselves and be supportive if we’re needed.’

‘It’s lovely here, isn’t it?’

‘It is. We have a bedroom each, both bigger than the ones we had in Seffy Park.’

‘You could both live here.’

‘We might do that.’

Pam paused and gazed round the room. ‘When?’

‘When I say so,’ Mary replied. ‘Though I’ll let him think it was his decision, of course. John first, Pam. I admit to sleeping with Andrew last night, but nothing
happened. I have to tell John before anything does happen.’

‘And I’ll have to go back to Sefton Park and the three witches if you get married and live here.’

But Mary had plans for her friend, too, though this was not the time to illustrate the details. ‘Put your stuff away, babe, then come and look at this Sanderson kitchen. He’s left
food for us, proper food, not beans on toast, and we have apple crumble for afters, made by his mum.’

That evening, Andrew dined with the two girls while his dad ate downstairs with Mother and Geoff. His list of ‘good at’ grew longer, as it now housed lamb with rosemary and real
gravy laced with rum, as well as roast potatoes and crisp vegetables, all followed by crème caramel. The apple crumble would do for tomorrow, he advised them, as he had wanted to demonstrate
his ability with a bain-marie, whatever that was.

They played Monopoly, and he changed the rules every five minutes, in his own favour, of course. His behaviour in the company of two lively Liverpool lasses was not appreciated, and he finished
up on the floor, bestridden by two females who beat him mercilessly with cushions. He had needed some fun, because life with Dad promised to be grim until after the funeral and the settling of poor
Daisy.

‘Who’s with her now?’ Pam asked.

‘Augustinian sisters, God bless them,’ he said. ‘In so far as we can tell, Daisy knows them, though she keeps looking round and making an extra-loud grunt. We think she’s
calling for her mother.’

‘Heartbreaking,’ Mary said.

‘And she sits there playing with the same toys she’s had for about seven years. Not playing, not really. Just holding them. I feel so bloody useless. We all do.’

Pam leapt up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. ‘You’ll do for our Mary,’ she said. ‘You’re a good lad. I’m off to bed now. Night-night.’ And away she
went.

Andrew and Mary sat on the sofa holding hands. Nothing needed saying. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he stroked her hair. It was yet another of those forever moments she was beginning
to treasure. Time lost meaning. They had always been here together, would always be like this, no beginning, no end, no clocks, no calendars. It was just as Andrew had said; it had been designed
before their births, and they must embrace the gift.

‘I have to go and look after him, darling. He won’t sleep here. It’s the only rule he has where Mother and Geoff are concerned.’

‘OK.’

‘Are you sure you’ll be all right?’ he asked.

‘I’m a big girl, Drew.’

‘That’s it – that’s my name. And you’re not a big girl. I could eat you in two bites.’

‘I sting.’

‘So do I,’ he promised. ‘But I always kiss it better.’

The family went as a whole to support Joe through poor Betsy’s funeral. Mary was working as usual, but Andrew was determined to be with Dad, as were Emily and Geoff.
Betsy’s sister Elsie accompanied them, though her husband, not the most sociable of folk, stayed behind to run their business. With paying guests staying at the pub, someone had to keep the
place ticking over.

So just one funeral car followed the hearse to Bolton. As they neared their destination, Emily and Andrew inhaled sharply at the first sight of their beloved moors. Joe hardly noticed, as he was
too busy going through his list of should-haves. He should have employed people to relieve Betsy for at least a few hours each day, could have sent more money, ought to have been more supportive
and more frequently involved on a personal basis.

His gratitude to the Augustinian sisterhood knew no bounds, and he had already made a sizeable contribution to their coffers. At this very moment, two nuns were with Daisy, while two more were
trekking about to find a decent place for the child.

Emily hung on to his hand. ‘She’ll be taken care of, sweetheart.’

‘We’ll all make sure of that,’ Geoff added.

It occurred to Andrew yet again that this unconventional family worked better than many ordinary marriages. Since their arrival in Mother’s Rodney Street properties, Dad and Geoff had
grown close, and the latter never turned a hair when Emily fussed over her very best friend, the man to whom she remained legally wed. They were courageous people leaving their mark on a brave new
world that wasn’t quite ready for their eccentricity, and Andrew felt that they were making no small contribution towards a more tolerant society.

Betsy had left a letter for her sister.