Liverpool Love Song (5 page)

The handsome young man standing on the doorstep made his anxiety stab up another notch. ‘You must be Adam,’ he said. ‘I think you’re expected. You’d better come in, Chloe’s getting ready for you.’

It was with a heavy heart that he led him into the kitchen. Adam sat down at the other side of the table on the chair Helen had vacated. Rex was able to study him. He was just the right age for Chloe, a personable young man with plenty of self-confidence and social chatter. Rex found it hard to respond suitably. Adam was his rival. And what a rival! It seemed to Rex very unlikely Chloe would toss Adam aside and turn to him. What a fool he was. Why had it never occurred to him that he might have competition?

Chloe lost no time in getting away and taking Adam with her. Helen was clearly upset. Rex had the impression she was very much against the new boyfriend. He couldn’t trust himself to sit discussing Adam with her. He needed to be alone to think about this. He made his escape as soon as he could.

He went home feeling cross with himself for letting this happen. He’d been telling himself it was his duty to wait until Chloe was old enough. He hadn’t recognised that he was waiting too long, that he was allowing another man to step in and take her. She was like quicksilver, full of energy and enthusiasm; he was too old and too slow for a girl like her, and this proved it.

On the day her mother’s clocks were to be auctioned, Chloe took a half-day off work to go with her. Helen had been edgy with anticipation since breakfast time. Adam met them at the auction hall and escorted them to the seats he’d reserved. The place was buzzing with excitement.

While the long-case clock was being sold, Chloe hung on to Adam’s hand and held her breath. The bidding went up and stopped; at what seemed the last moment, it went up further. It made considerably more than Adam had offered for it, though not as much as the figure quoted in the price guide. On her other side, her mother was all smiles to have some of the money for her summerhouse, but it left Chloe wondering.

‘It made more than you wanted to give us,’ she said to Adam, hoping she didn’t sound suspicious.

He laughed. ‘I knew it would,’ he said easily. ‘That’s how the trade works. The person who wants the clock to furnish his house is the one who is prepared to pay the most for it. But he expects it to be in good repair, polished up and delivered to his door. I sometimes work on a piece, or arrange for the work to be done.

‘If you buy from a fancy antique shop, you’ll pay more than if you bid for it at auction, for much the same reason. The shop owner will have put it in working condition and the customer doesn’t have to hang about at the auction house waiting for the piece to come up for sale. Dealers like me make our living from these price differences; from our knowledge of the trade and selling, if we can, to the customer who loves it and wants to keep it.’

‘Oh!’ So it seemed he hadn’t been trying to fleece her mother.

The auctioneer announced, ‘Lot number five hundred and two.’

‘This is yours too,’ Adam whispered to Helen.

‘Early Georgian ebonised mantel clock with brass dial, by William Webster, Exchange Alley, London.’

‘It should do well,’ Adam said softly, and gave them his personal estimate of what it would make. It was knocked down for a price exactly midway between the two figures he’d suggested.

Chloe felt that had settled all her doubts about him; it was just that she hadn’t understood his trade. She was looking forward to learning more about it, as well as about him.

CHAPTER FOUR

T
HE SUMMERHOUSE HAD BEEN ordered. Rex agreed it would look splendid in her garden. It gave him pleasure that he was able to bring good business to his family’s firm. Simon, his half-brother, had thanked him for that. Rex was pleased he could show his stepfather that he was capable of earning a living in his own way.

Horace had treated him as though he lacked drive and intelligence because he didn’t immediately try to talk customers into buying things in the way he and Simon did. He’d told Rex he was introverted and needed to be brought out of his shell.

Rex was proud that Helen had searched him out for his expertise, and they’d both derived great pleasure from designing and maintaining her garden. It had relaxed her and brought her peace. Rex had always known that gardening soothed him. Nothing suited him better than being outside in all weathers.

The day came for the summerhouse to be delivered. Helen had chosen the biggest and best on offer and it would have to come on a low loader. Her gates were wide enough to get the vehicle through, but once inside, the paths were not. What concerned Rex now was the need to minimise the damage to her garden. He’d had to dig up plants from two borders to save them being crushed. It had been dry recently and the ground was hard, so hopefully the tyres wouldn’t churn up the lawn too much.

Rex was proud of the lush green oasis they’d achieved in this residential area. Helen encouraged him to keep coming up with new ideas to hone a corner here or a vista there. It meant more to him than any other job that had come his way. Of course, it meant even more to Helen.

Rex looked at his watch and wished the low loader would come. He’d prepared the base, and the mechanism that would make it turn had been put in place yesterday. What was coming today was the wooden prefabricated building that they’d erect on top. Helen came racing out of the house dressed in her gardening gear of jeans and old check shirt with rolled-up sleeves.

‘It’s coming. It’s coming, Rex!’ She was jumping with excitement as she ran to open the gate. She was a good-looking woman, and never more so than now, with her hair bouncing, her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining. She looked a decade younger than her real age. She came running over to him, and behind her the low loader was being backed carefully in.

‘I can’t wait to see my summerhouse in place,’ she laughed.

‘It’s going to take us a while,’ he warned.

But Gerald, his younger half-brother, who’d come with the low loader and brought a gang of three men from the garden centre to erect the summerhouse, said, ‘We’ll have it up before dark,’ and received a little smile of pleasure from Helen in return.

When Chloe came home from work, the floor was in place and the frame was going up. It took Rex’s breath away to see her come dancing across to take a closer look.

‘Oh Rex, it’s going to be lovely. Mum’s over the moon.’

But he was so afraid he’d never mean any more to her than he did today.

Rex knew that Mrs Darty and Marigold were invited to Sunday lunch almost every week. On warm days they would sit out in the garden afterwards with the old lady wrapped in shawls.

‘Now we’ll be able to sit in the summerhouse,’ Helen said. ‘Gran will be comfortable there for many more months of the year.’

For the next Sunday, Helen invited Rex too. He looked forward to going because he’d be with Chloe for several hours. She’d talk to him and he’d be able to find out if she was as serious about Adam as he thought. When he arrived, Helen was already in the sitting room, sipping sherry with her relatives. Chloe let him in, all smiles and wearing her red dress and high heels again.

‘You look very smart,’ Rex told her.

‘Thank you.’ She looked grown up and very beautiful. ‘If you’d rather have beer than sherry, come to the kitchen first,’ she whispered. He was glad to follow her anywhere; she seemed to dance in front of him. The kitchen was full of delicious roasting scents.

‘Lager is what you like, isn’t it?’ She tipped one bottle into a tankard for him. ‘D’you want to take another bottle with you? There’s only sherry on offer in there.’

‘Better not,’ he said.

Marigold gave him a frosty glare when Chloe took him in. Her conversation was mostly about her own aches and pains.

‘My back,’ she said, ‘is riddled with arthritis, and so are my hands.’ She held them up to show him how misshapen they were. ‘They ache terribly in cold weather.’

‘You must keep your hands warm, Aunt Goldie.’ Chloe smiled at her.

‘It’s not that easy when I have the housework to do, and your granny makes a lot of washing for me. She likes pure wool next to her, you know, and I have to hand-wash all that.’

Old Mrs Darty had very little to say. Marigold told Rex that her mother had been fighting bowel cancer for years and that her heart was giving her trouble too. Helen seemed to sense the atmosphere and was more than usually chatty, as if trying to make up for it. She was very enthusiastic about her new summerhouse.

‘Chloe and I love it,’ she said. ‘We’ll have our coffee there today, after lunch.’

Rex carved the joint of beef, but his lack of practice showed. Living alone, he didn’t buy joints any more. It was a breezy day of fitful sunshine, and when the meal was over, Helen offered to help Gran out to the summerhouse.

The old lady looked round, almost as though she didn’t know where she was. ‘I don’t feel too well, Marigold,’ she said. ‘I want to go home.’

‘We won’t wait for coffee today, Helen, thank you,’ Marigold said. ‘It upsets Mother’s stomach anyway and I think she’d feel better in her own bed. She always goes up for an hour after lunch, as you know.’

‘Shall I take you to see my summerhouse first?’ Helen asked.

‘I can see it from here,’ Marigold said, looking through the window. It was at least thirty yards away and partly obscured by bushes. ‘I’ll take a closer look next time I come.’

So Helen helped Gran into her coat and scarves and took them out to her car to run them home. Chloe started to clear the dishes from the dining room. Rex stayed to help.

‘Aunt Goldie does moan,’ she said. ‘Not a load of fun for you listening to all that.’

‘The roast dinner was good, I enjoyed that. So did everybody else, I think.’

‘We all tucked into it.’ Chloe gave him a quick smile. ‘Though Aunt Goldie reckons neither she nor Gran has any appetite.’

Rex managed to say, ‘I understand you have a boyfriend now.’

‘Yes,’ she giggled. ‘He’s lovely, but I don’t think Mum’s keen on him.’ That cast Rex down; it was bad news for him.

Just as they were finishing the washing-up, Helen brought Adam inside. ‘We arrived at the same moment,’ she said. ‘Adam has come to pick Chloe up.’

It pained Rex to see the way their eyes met, the look of adoration they exchanged. Chloe shot upstairs and came down wearing her coat.

‘Bye.’ She flashed Rex a radiant smile. ‘Bye, Mum.’ She dropped a fleeting kiss on her cheek.

Helen sank down at the kitchen table with a sigh as the front door banged behind them. ‘Not much fun for you, Rex, I’m afraid,’ she said, echoing Chloe’s words.

He thought it had been rather a stiff and uncomfortable occasion. Helen hadn’t relaxed. Chloe had been her usual self and done more than her share of seeing that everybody was served. But it had been hurtful to see Adam here again and to know they’d arranged to spend the rest of the afternoon together. It seemed he was becoming an established boyfriend and that would end any hope Rex had.

‘Let’s have that coffee Marigold stopped me making,’ Helen said. ‘You could do with a cup, couldn’t you, Rex?’

He’d been thinking of going home to nurse his wounds and read the Sunday papers, and didn’t answer quickly enough.

‘Well I’ll have one anyway,’ she said, switching on the coffee pot. ‘I need something to keep me sane.’

‘Yes please,’ he said belatedly. ‘The ladies were having an off day. You mustn’t let that get you down.’

‘It’s mostly how they are. All their days are off.’ He could see her hand shaking and knew she was upset. He thought perhaps they’d had a family tiff.

She sniffed into her handkerchief and said in a confidential tone, ‘I don’t have an ordinary family.’

He’d been about to say ‘I don’t either,’ but bit the words back.

‘I suppose you’ve guessed,’ she said. Her eyes, full of misery, looked up into his.

‘Guessed what?’

‘Marigold is my mother.’ There was a catch in her voice. ‘She had me when she was sixteen. She was never married.’

That took his breath away. ‘But Mrs Darty – don’t you call her mother?’

He wished he hadn’t said that, it made him sound unfeeling.

‘I was brought up to believe she was. It’s habit, I suppose. Chloe calls her Gran. I do try to do the same, but sometimes I forget.’

Rex felt tongue-tied. What did one say to such a revelation?

‘I was fourteen when I found out. They were having a row. Gran was angry and said enough to set me thinking.’ Helen’s voice shook; he knew she was only just able to control her tears. ‘Eventually I screwed up my courage and asked Marigold. She had to tell me then.’

Rex did his best. ‘That was a terrible way to find out. It must have been a shock.’

‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘I wasn’t who I’d thought I was, and my family wasn’t either.’

Rex had known from the beginning that Helen was emotionally fragile. ‘I did think they seemed very old compared to you.’ He jerked to his feet to pour out two cups of coffee, then pushed one in front of her. ‘Drink this, it’ll make you feel better.’

She was mopping at her eyes.

‘All that has come out from behind the net curtains, Helen,’ he went on. ‘This is the sixties, there’s been a rebellion against Victorian values. These are the days of flower power. There’s no shame attached to your situation these days.’

‘But there was in 1921 when I was born. Illegitimacy was a very shameful thing and it’s been eating into all three of us ever since.’

He understood how corrosive that sort of thing could be. ‘No blame could be attached to you. You were the innocent baby.’

‘Marigold blamed me. Still does.’

‘Yet her mother did it to shield her. To give her a better chance in life.’

‘But it didn’t. Having me left her paralysed. Held her in limbo. She’s done nothing with her life.’

‘That’s up to her, not you.’

‘I don’t think Gran realises how much it’s affected her. Marigold can’t stand men in general. She thinks they’re all bad. Did you notice she was a bit offhand with you?’

Rex had, but he shook his head.