A Mersey Mile (54 page)
Authors: Ruth Hamilton
Cal asked the burning question. ‘What time are they coming?’
‘Four o’clock,’ was Polly’s tense reply.
Eating slowed down. Everybody present had been witness to the shooting of their host.
Chris laid down his cutlery. ‘We’re part of the process,’ he announced, his tone as grave as Polly’s had been. ‘Her brain has to find its way home. What we must
remember is that all her behaviour was created by the invader in her skull. Until her teens, she was an ordinary kid – spoilt, but normal. I spoke to Christine yesterday, and she said that
Elaine suddenly recalled working in Liverpool. That’s a huge stride. Remember also that this young woman had a mild stroke after surgery. She’s now slightly disabled.’
Cal nodded; he knew about disability.
Norma spoke up. ‘Christine’s my friend. She’s a good woman, and we don’t want to lose her because of her daughter’s illness. Let’s have our pudding with the
sunken sixpences and enjoy our day.’
Hattie and Ida returned, both corsetless. Ida was grinning. ‘Nothing beats a good scratch when you rip off the whalebone. What? What have I done now? Have I missed something?’
Hattie nudged her companion. ‘Ida?’
‘What?’
‘Shut up.’
‘But—’
‘Shut up,’ Hattie repeated. ‘And don’t swallow any sixpences.’
A young woman arrived just after four with her mother and stepfather. Her beautiful blonde hair was short and curled, as the long tresses had been shaved prior to surgery. She
had a slight limp and, in flat shoes, appeared to have shrunk in height by several inches. Smiling sweetly, she made a beeline for Beth and Cathy, placing wrapped gifts at their feet. ‘Do
they walk yet?’ she asked Polly.
‘No, but they crawl fast,’ Frank answered for his wife.
Elaine sat on the floor with the babies and began to open their presents. ‘My mother worked here,’ she announced. ‘We had a little house, and I’m a solicitor.’
Linda swallowed a sob. It was Christmas, and people shouldn’t cry at such a joyful time. Hattie knelt on the floor and helped with the unwrapping, since Elaine seemed to be all fingers and
thumbs. ‘What did you get for Christmas?’ Hattie asked.
‘A horse,’ Elaine replied immediately. ‘I can ride it. And I got a riding hat, boots and jodhpurs.’ She smiled benignly at the whole company. ‘Mum says I’m
good with horses. I go swimming, too.’ She fixed her gaze on Frank. ‘Are you the man I hurt?’
He nodded.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘It was a . . . a thing in my head. Wasn’t it, Dad?’ Her attention focused on Richard.
‘Yes, it was, love.’
Elaine smiled again, and an echo of her beauty shone briefly in her lovely eyes. ‘New start,’ she said. ‘I’m all new.’
Polly fled to the kitchen. She stood at the window, silent sobs racking her body. Chris joined her. ‘Come on, Polly. Let’s not upset everyone. Will I make some tea?’
She nodded. Tea, Christmas cake and crackers were the plan. ‘Where was God?’ she asked when her breathing settled.
‘I asked Him,’ Chris replied. ‘I’m not really expecting an answer.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I already know that every malady, every mishap, every crisis, is man-made.’
‘And the growth in her head?’
‘Created by the way we live, what we eat, the effluent we produce. He made us perfect, and we deteriorated. We choose the way we live and, sometimes, the way we die.’
Polly thought about that. ‘Are you sure?’
He shrugged.
‘Are you really sure?’ she repeated.
‘No, I’m not. Because there is no pure truth on this planet. We have opinions and ideas, yet truth is elusive. There are facts, but truth is a whole different concept. Elaine’s
happier, isn’t she?’
It was Polly’s turn to shrug. ‘I suppose. But will she get back to normal, back to her real age?’
‘Does it matter as long as she’s happy?’
Polly didn’t answer, because he’d hit the nail on the head, as usual.
They carried tea through to the living room.
The woman who had hated babies held two in her lap. Softly, she hummed as the pair drifted off to sleep. Linda was swallowing emotion, Cal sat with his eyes closed, Richard, Christine and Norma
smiled, while Hattie clung to Ida and Frank stared at the floor.
Chris looked at Polly. ‘See?’ he whispered. ‘God sent an answer after all.’
I lived here till last Wednesday
With Mam and Dad and Auntie May
Cos Uncle Tommy died at sea
So she slept in my bed with me.
Nancy Byrne at number four’s
Shut in, has bolted both her doors.
She’s old and doesn’t understand
That houses here have all been damned.
(That’s a bad word. I don’t care.)
Miles I walked to come back home.
And on my step I write this poem.
All Kennedys and Shaws are gone
And Mrs Byrne’s the only one
Who shouted GO AWAY, I’M STOPPING
I’ve come to see if she needs shopping.
Far away is where we are
To get to work you’d need a car.
They’re not too bothered about us
We haven’t even got a bus.
From my bedroom I can see
The dockers coming home for tea.
Like ants they crawl until they grow
And I see faces that I know.
We have a garden, path and gate
But my dad always comes home late.
And we don’t want to live out there
Cos Dad’s too tired and sad to care
About three bedrooms, lovely house,
He’s different, quiet as a mouse.
I want my dad back, want him here
Where town and docks are all so near.
I want my school and my best friend.
A new beginning? NO. An end.
Ruth Hamilton
About the Author
Ruth Hamilton is the bestselling author of numerous novels, including
Mulligan
’
s Yard
,
The Reading Room
,
Mersey View
,
That
Liverpool Girl
,
Lights of Liverpool
and
A Liverpool Song
. She has become one of the north-west of England’s most popular writers. She was born in Bolton, which is the
setting for many of her novels, and has spent most of her life in Lancashire. She now lives in Liverpool.
By Ruth Hamilton
A Whisper to the Living
With Love From Ma Maguire
Nest of Sorrows
Billy London’s Girls
Spinning Jenny
The September Starlings
A Crooked Mile
Paradise Lane
The Bells of Scotland Road
The Dream Sellers
The Corner House
Miss Honoria West
Mulligan’s Yard
Saturday’s Child
Matthew & Son
Chandlers Green
The Bell House
Dorothy’s War
A Parallel Life
Sugar and Spice
The Judge’s Daughter
The Reading Room
Mersey View
That Liverpool Girl
Lights of Liverpool
A Liverpool Song
A Mersey Mile
A
CKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Wayne Brookes, Louise Buckley and Camilla Elworthy of Macmillan Publishers.
Thanks to all who remember Scotland Road before its cruel destruction.
Avril Cain for research.
Geoff Allen, tech support, without whose help I’d still be dipping a quill in black ink.
Readers, I am forever grateful.
First published 2014 by Macmillan
This electronic edition published 2014 by Pan Books
an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
Basingstoke and Oxford
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com
ISBN 978-1-4472-4942-9
Copyright © Ruth Hamilton 2014
The right of Ruth Hamilton to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
The Macmillan Group has no responsibility for the information provided by any author websites whose address you obtain from this book (‘author websites’). The
inclusion of author website addresses in this book does not constitute an endorsement by or association with us of such sites or the content, products, advertising or other materials presented on
such sites.
You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital,
optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be
liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Visit
www.panmacmillan.com
to read more about all our books and to buy them. You will also find features, author
interviews and news of any author events, and you can sign up for e-newsletters so that you’re always first to hear about our new releases.
