A Whisper to the Living (41 page)

‘I’m sorry – look, I’ll slow down, I promise.’

‘You will grind to a complete halt, Martin Cullen! But the car will move! Now – this minute!’

He started the engine.

‘Move!’ I shouted.

The car leapt forward. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you, Annie. Your picture has been in my wallet right next to my heart for a long, long time. I just got carried away. You’re more beautiful than ever – it’s not easy for me. In a few weeks I’ll be gone. Come with me, Annie.’

I gritted my teeth. Not again, not another one. Everybody suddenly wanted to take me away!

‘I’m not going anywhere, Martin. I’m a Bolton girl and Bolton’s where I’ll stay.’

‘And marry a boring Bolton man and have boring Bolton kids?’

‘Probably.’

‘Think about it, Annie.’ He pulled up outside our house. ‘And by the way, who’s this American I’m hearing about?’

‘He’s an old neighbour from the other side of town. He emigrated and has come back to visit family.’

‘Spends a lot of time with you, doesn’t he?’

‘That is my business!’

He grinned in that boyish way I remembered so well. ‘You’re going to marry me one day, Annie.’

‘Really? Then drop me a line so I’ll remember to go to the church!’

I stamped into the house and banged the door.

These two situations continued for weeks. I juggled with them, divided the hours and days as fairly as I could between the two of them, hung on grimly to my virtue as I tried to decide which, if either, was the right one for me. I was pulled this way and that, persuaded, cajoled, bribed almost . . . then, finally, I had had enough. Arrangements had somehow become muddled, I knew that the two of them would arrive this evening – dear God! I couldn’t even live in my own house anymore! Every time I opened the door, one or the other would be there complete with chocolates, flowers and an inane grin. But both together? That I could not face.

So I simply walked out and went across to see Simon. He would listen. He would understand. But David opened the door to my frantic bell-pushing.

‘What the hell’s happened to you, Anne? You look . . . rather flustered to say the least.’

‘Just hide me! Put me in a cupboard, lock me in the lavatory – where’s Simon? He’ll help me.’

‘He’s out for the evening.’

I glanced over my shoulder. ‘Then . . . give me an injection, send me to hospital, say I’m in a coma . . . anything! I’ll even play backgammon. Please?’

He took my arm and led me through to the drawing room. The minute he touched me I knew what had passed me by, knew all about that missing something. It was terrifying, like an electric current running up my arm and right through my body. All I was aware of was him, that peppermint and medicine smell, the tweed jacket, a hint of cigar smoke. We stood in the doorway of the room, an untidy room now with no wife to care for it. And I looked at my darling scruffy saviour from the past, with his over-long hair and not quite clean shirt.

‘David!’ I heard the second syllable as it rose like an alarm, a warning to myself.

‘Anne?’

I stood to one side then and watched this girl, this terrible wanton creature as she put her arms around the man and kissed him. But I did not remain an observer for long. He was shaking just as he had on that awful night two years ago when his wife had died. We had to lean against a wall because I too was trembling violently.

So, having come to this place to seek refuge and protection from virile suitors, I found myself in the hands of a truly experienced man, one I had loved forever without quite realizing the fact. It was so natural, so perfect and beautiful. He wiped out all the pain and confusion, eliminated every fear, treated my body with a reverence that shook and delighted me. I didn’t care in those moments whether or not this would be forever. Now mattered. Now was all that mattered.

‘Oh my darling girl. I am so sorry . . .’ he murmured afterwards.

‘Don’t be. Can’t you see what you’ve done? Don’t you realize how terrified I was of all this? I didn’t know it could be so wonderful.’

‘Yes, it was. But it shouldn’t have happened – apart from anything else, I’m your doctor.’

‘Then I’ll get another – I’ve been thrown out of better surgeries than yours. Please don’t be sad . . . please?’ I stroked the head that nestled between my breasts. ‘I love you, David. I think I’ve loved you since I was fifteen.’

‘That was gratitude,’ he answered, his fingers gently tracing the contours of my upper body. ‘Never confuse gratitude with love.’

‘Then what do you feel for me, Dr Pritchard? Is this lust?’

‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘I have the temerity to love you, though God knows I’m too old for you. But I’ve been a member of the Total Idiots’ group for some time now.’

‘Tell me how you qualified.’

He lifted his tousled head and looked into my eyes. ‘I’ve wished you were older. I’ve imagined how it would be if I were twenty years younger . . .’

‘But you’re not. What does age matter anyway?’

‘It matters. I think you should get dressed and go home, my dear.’

I moved away from him and began to pull on my clothes with furious haste. ‘Get dressed and go home, my dear,’ I mimicked viciously. I dragged my fingers through my hair in an attempt to restore it to some kind of order. ‘I don’t suppose there’s a comb in this dump, Dr Pritchard?’

‘On the hallstand.’

I stamped through into the hall and stared at the mirror. I didn’t look any different, no matter how many angles I tried and this disappointed me beyond measure. That he would follow me I did not doubt for a moment. Where had I got the wisdom, the certainty that this was what magazines called ‘real love’? From him, I supposed, from this thing between us that was a fact, a thing that belonged to neither and yet to both of us. He came up behind me and our eyes met in the glass.

‘You’re angry,’ he said flatly.

‘Angry? Why the hell should I be angry? Nothing’s happened, nothing real. It obviously meant little to you when I said I love you. No, I’m not angry, Doctor. I’m bloody furious!’

Then he started to laugh, that awful infectious guffaw that made you either join in or thump him, so I thumped him good and hard, swinging round from the mirror and delivering the full force of my clenched fist, which was not inconsiderable, onto his chest. He coughed, stepped backwards, then grinned broadly.

‘Right,’ he said quietly. ‘I suppose you’re going to insist on making an honest man of me. Because you hold all the trumps and you know it, Anne. But it won’t be easy. I had to give you the chance to walk away from it. What we’re going into will take some explaining.’

I tapped my foot. ‘What would you have done if I had walked away?’

‘I’d have come after you.’

‘It’s a good job you said that, David Pritchard!’ I reached for him and we clung together saying all the silly things that come with new-found love. And all the time part of my mind was wondering what might or might not have happened if Simon had been at home, if I hadn’t got into that dreadful mess with Tom and Martin, if . . . But no, this would have found us sooner or later.

So it was all arranged, mapped out within the hour, at the end of which time we made love again. I had never imagined such happiness, not for myself. For years I had kept my distance, denied my sexuality, indulged my fears. This was not just compensation, it was liberation too. There must be a God, there must be a plan.

We dressed, then hand in hand for all the world to see, we walked across the road to tell my mother. Just as we reached our gate, he began to chuckle again.

‘What’s the matter now?’ I dug him in the ribs. ‘Pull yourself together – this is a very solemn occasion!’

‘Remember Blackpool?’ he asked. ‘She’s no easy opponent!’

‘She’s only little.’

‘Yes, so is a bottle of poison. Do you realize – I’ll be the same age as my mother-in-law? She’ll never buy this.’

‘David!’ We stood on the pathway facing each other. ‘You’ll just have to trust my salesmanship.’

My mother was seated at the table with Mary and Bertha Cullen when we entered. They all looked startled when they saw David, but I quickly beckoned to my mother to follow us into the kitchen. I closed the door, took David’s arm, then faced her.

She stared at us for some moments. ‘What the hell’s all this?’ she asked eventually.

‘Nancy . . . I want to ask for your daughter’s hand . . .’

Her jaw dropped. ‘You what? You bloody what?’

‘We’re getting married, Mother.’

‘You’re . . . you’re . . .? No such flaming thing! Still a kid and wanting to chuck your life away – not likely!’

‘I love him, Mother.’ I squeezed his hand. ‘And he loves me.’

There followed a deafening silence during which I could almost feel the straining ears in the next room. Then in she waded – at the deep end as always. ‘When you’re forty, he’ll be sixty bloody odd! Are you daft, lass?’

‘No and I’m not a kid. I’ll be twenty-one in five months.’

‘Don’t you come the clever lip with me, our Annie!’

David coughed. ‘She’ll be well looked after, Nancy.’

‘Aye. So will you, eh? Specially when she’s shoving you round in the wheelchair.’ She turned her venom on me again. ‘Years we went without. Now you’ve got the training and a good job – what the hell do you want to go getting wed for? I’ve fetched you up to know you don’t need a man. But if you’ve got to have one, why can’t you pick somebody your own age? There’s Martin – and Tom’s only in his thirties.’

David’s tone was quiet but firm. ‘She doesn’t want them, Nancy. She wants me.’

I straightened my spine and looked down on my angry mother. ‘Either you accept this or I leave home. That way, I’ll be able to do as I please. You can’t boss me around forever! I thought it was bad enough when I was a child, you, the nuns, the priest – but we’ve reached the end of that particular line now. Would you rather David and I lived over the brush as they call it? Because I’m going to live across the road whether I marry him or not.’

She glowered and opened her mouth to speak, but a tapping at the door to the living room put a stop to whatever she was about to pronounce.

Mary opened the door an inch or two. ‘Tom and Martin have both come back,’ she whispered. ‘They’re sitting in the front room looking daggers at one another. And we can all hear what’s going on in here.’

My mother followed Mary into the living room.

David drew me into his arms. ‘Perhaps she’s right, darling.’

‘No!’ I mouthed fiercely. ‘She can’t take away what’s happened between us. I won’t let her spoil it, I won’t!’

We walked into the living room just as Tom and Martin arrived through the other door. My mother stood at the far side of the table, arms folded, one foot tapping on the floor.

‘Well, Tom. Well, Martin. Lady Annie’s led you both a dance, I’m afraid.’

‘Now, Nancy,’ said Bertha. ‘Don’t go so ‘ard on t’ lass. She’s nobbut doin’ what she thinks is reet. Just leave ’er be.’

‘Please, Nancy,’ begged Mary. ‘Let’s not have a scene.’

Tom stepped forward. ‘What’s going on here?’

Martin tried to push his way into the crowded room ‘Yes – what’s all this about?’

David placed himself in front of the sideboard, leaving me to stand by the kitchen door. He was obviously preparing to fight alone for the cause. He cleared his throat. ‘Anne and I want to be married. Obviously, Nancy is under the impression that I’m taking out some kind of insurance policy, getting myself a young wife who will see me through my dotage. This is not the case. Anne and I belong together.’ He reached out an arm and I ran to him gladly. ‘We didn’t plan to fall in love, Nancy. And please, please don’t turn away from your daughter now. She loves you. In the past, she has proved how much.’ My mother flinched slightly as she took in the meaning behind his words.

Tom shook David’s hand vigorously. ‘I won’t pretend I’m not disappointed, but you sure got a great girl there. Congratulations.’

Martin turned and left the house, slamming doors as he went.

‘Tek no notice to ’im,’ said Bertha. ‘’E’ll likely get over it.’

My mother, her face white with fury, stormed out of the room and up the stairs.

‘Well,’ Bertha struggled to her feet. ‘I’ll . . . er . . . I’ll just go an’ see ter me . . . me ironin’.’ She waddled out, leaving Mary, Tom, David and me standing uncomfortably about the room.

Tom looked at Mary. ‘We could . . . go for a drink, you and I . . .’

‘Yes . . . yes, I’ll just get my coat.’ She fled from the scene.

‘I’ll . . . I’ll wait in the car.’ The door closed behind Tom.

David shook his head. ‘We’ve upset everybody’s applecart, Anne.’

‘I don’t care! We’ve got one another and that’s all we need.’

The next morning I lay in my bed and waited for the inevitable. She hadn’t come downstairs again after that dreadful scene the previous evening, but I knew she hadn’t finished with me, not by a long chalk. Somewhere inside myself, I felt torn in two, yet I realized that my love and need for David would win hands down if it came to actual warfare. And the opening salvo was about to be fired, for I could hear her coming up the attic stairs.

She entered my room quietly, which was an ominous sign, walked past the bed and opened the curtains at my three-sided window. With her back towards me, she began to speak, her voice almost a whisper.

‘You’re not asleep, Annie. I’d know if you were asleep. Likely you’ve been awake for hours.’ She paused as if deep in thought. ‘Twenty years I’ve watched you grow, cared what happened. I’ve not done it all right. If I’d done it all right, things would never have got so bad for you.’

‘Please, Mother . . .’

‘No, lass. I’m up on the horse now and it’s taken a fair climb. I shall get off when I’m ready.’ She cleared her throat as if embarrassed. ‘Before I start, I’ve got to say I’m sorry over what happened last night, me kicking off like that in front of everybody and showing you up . . .’

‘That was my fault. David and I should have waited until . . .’

‘Shut up, Annie, will you? Let me say my piece, because I’ve been up all night practising.’

She lowered herself into my chair at the window and shook her head wearily. I couldn’t see her face, but I could read its expression from her tone. At first, it was almost as if she were talking to herself.