Meet Me at the Pier Head (28 page)

A soggy kitten curled into the dog’s neck and fell asleep.

‘Well, that was fairly quick,’ Theo said. ‘Have you done the scouse?’

‘I have. And I made a cake with
Welcome to Liverpool
wrote on the top. It’s a bit wobbly, cos I’m not much use with icing, but I done me best. The music’s ready
– I just have to click a doodah on the wotsname, so we’re all right.’

‘You’ve done well, Maggie. Would you mind staying here in a supervisory capacity while I take a shower?’

‘Eh?’

‘Be the zoo keeper. Watch them.’

‘Right.’

While he showered, he found himself feeling a childlike excitement. For years, he’d lived in this magnificent house, all alone except for his cat. Suddenly, because he’d done the
sensible thing by turning the villa into two apartments, the curtain had finally risen on the Theodore Quinn Show; he had a life. Tom Quirke had never provided that, because writing was done by
isolated and often eccentric people who communicated through paper and ink and a typewriter. He’d met several, and some were socially inept, while many spoke only via their characters,
choosing to step back and accept people’s love, admiration, praise, criticism, condemnation or whatever by proxy.
At least I have my real life, my school, my children, my Portia. If I can
just draw a line below . . . under all that went on before I reached the age of reason . . .

So Maggie thinks Simon Heilberg might be on the guest list if Tia can get in touch with him? I suppose he’ll be turning up, booted and suited in doctor mode, so I must wear my Sunday
best. No, she wouldn’t like that. Not a suit, then. Slacks, white shirt with open neck, no tie, casual shoes and I wish I’d had a haircut. Still, I’ll look OK, won’t I? But
so does Simon, and it never seemed to get him anywhere.

He dried himself, put on a robe and returned to the living room. Tyger was playing with one of Mickle’s ears. Maggie blushed. It was a while since she’d seen a man’s bare legs.
They weren’t hairy, and he had nice feet, and she should pull herself together and get down to the Derby and Joan night at her local, find somebody nearer her own age and class.

‘Go and mind your scouse, Maggie,’ he advised. ‘I’ll open the red wine before I go to the station, let it breathe for a while. Exciting, isn’t it?’

Maggie nodded. ‘Oh, it is that, all right. And we can’t tell nobody. I remember seeing her a couple of years back in that film,
Marking Time
. Broke my heart, she did, and
what a lovely dancer. When her husband got sentenced to death, our Doris ran to the ladies’ room until it was all over.’ She paused for breath. ‘Has she left him? Has she left
Richard Bellamy?’

‘Yes.’

‘And this Rose Cottage – is it near their house?’

‘Yes.’

‘Won’t he be in a bad mood?’

Theo grinned. ‘Yes,’ he repeated, ‘but he’s being in a bad mood in London. Anyway, even if he comes back, Tia can deal with him. She’s afraid of nobody.’ He
failed to remove the pride from his tone.

‘She’s lovely, isn’t she?’

He nodded. ‘Quite a catch for Myrtle Street. She’ll enliven us.’

Maggie smiled; the enlivenment had already begun, and it showed in his eyes whenever the lady in question was mentioned.

The subject under discussion shouted from Theo’s hallway. ‘Nine for food,’ she yelled. ‘I’m going up for a bath.’

Rosie ran in. ‘Look, look, red shoes, Nana.’ The little girl immediately turned into a happy chatterbox. Theo, used to disentangling the excited outpourings of the young, managed to
separate shoe shop from lunch with Dr Heilberg plus pretend wine in a posh hotel, the Walker Gallery from a picnic with Harry My Friend Without Legs, and the tide beginning to turn while tug boats
pulled in a ship from oh, you’ve got a dog.

Maggie and Theo stared at each other. The child had been so quiet, so cowed and afraid. It was almost like a renaissance, because this was how she might always have been had her mother protected
her from the likes of Tunstall.

Theo whispered to Maggie, ‘This is why we have to do it, Maggie. If Sadie makes a complete recovery, well . . .’ He needed say no more.

Maggie inclined her head in agreement. Sadie was her daughter, but betrayal was necessary, since the betrayal of Rosie was the bigger sin.

‘How is she?’ he mouthed.

‘No change; still in a coma.’

Rosie had now become the third occupant of Mickle’s blanket. With her head on the dog’s side, she fell asleep. This had been the happiest day of her life so far, and her dreams were
pleasant.

Maggie’s pain and gratitude poured down her face. ‘I don’t know what we would have done without you and Miss Bellamy.’

‘Tia, Maggie. Miss Bellamy’s the schoolteacher.’

‘Yes, right. Don’t know how we’d have managed without Tia, then.’

‘And without whoever killed Tunstall. The police have hit a brick wall, I think. Now, stop weeping. You’ve enough on your plate with all that scouse. I’ll get
dressed.’

‘She’s always wanted red shoes.’

‘Shut up, Maggie, or you’ll have my eyes leaking, too.’ He patted her shoulder before going into his bedroom. Leaning against the door, he closed his eyes. In five days, he
would be enabling kidnap by driving Rosie and Maggie to Kent. He would be accessory before, during and after the fact. ‘It’s the only way,’ he whispered to himself. ‘She
needs to be safe.’

They walked hand in hand down the platform while the huge metal dinosaur breathed its last until turn-around time, as Theo termed it. While the brakes were fully applied near
buffers, smoke and steam filled the air. ‘Ma will be in Class One,’ Tia murmured, almost to herself. ‘She has her priorities right.’

‘We’re going diesel soon,’ Theo grumbled. ‘I’ll miss these monsters.’ He stared at his companion; she was a sight worthy of attention. ‘Class
One?’ His eyebrows shot upward. ‘Can’t she read?’

‘Do you want a thump?’

‘Don’t answer a question with a question. And leave your hand in mine, because she knows. When she phoned to ask me to inform you that your dad was last seen screaming in Wardour
Street, I told her about us.’

‘Us? What about us?’

‘That we’re beginning the mating ritual.’

She clouted him with her handbag. ‘She’s my mother. I should tell her when there’s something to tell.’

He grinned broadly.

‘You’re lying, aren’t you, Mr Quinn?’

He nodded, smile still in place. ‘I’m not lying about your father sacking his agent. The effluent hits the press this week – nothing will stop it. If the man has any sense at
all, he won’t contest the divorce.’

‘Sense is a lot to ask, Teddy Bear.’

The grin remained in situ. She cared. The pet name she’d chosen for him, the facial expression when she looked at him, half shy, part happy, part confused, such clues presented no problem
to either Theo Quinn or Tom Quirke. This precious and beautiful girl was growing closer to him, and her kisses were becoming greedy. ‘
Hand in Hand
,’ he said.
‘Quirke’s next book.’

‘Romantic?’

‘Depends.’

‘On what?’

‘On whom would be a better question. When I’ve unburdened myself to you, when you know the details—’

‘Ma!’ she screamed. ‘Nanny!’

Determined, Theo held on to her hand while they ran towards Isadora Bellamy and Joan Reynolds. He released Tia only when he picked up two small suitcases. The three women hugged each other for
at least thirty seconds. As predicted by Tia, Isadora had dressed down, brown wig, brown jacket, brown skirt, brown bag and brown shoes.

Tia released her loved ones. ‘Ma, Nanny, this is Teddy or Theo. He’s my head teacher and my landlord.’ She paused. ‘And he’s my boyfriend, too, I
suppose.’

Isadora looked him up and down. He was solid, broad-shouldered, tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed and very handsome. She held out her right hand while he put down the luggage. ‘I believe
you’re a fan of mine, young man. It’s clear that you have good taste in women, because this daughter of mine is extraordinary.’ She shook his hand and introduced him to Joan.
‘Joan is responsible in part for the fact that my three daughters are brilliant, kind and lovable. She raised them while I worked my way up through the ranks.’

He felt the heat in his face; he had just shaken hands with a star. ‘I’ve met Delia,’ he said. ‘The only one I’ve missed is Juliet.’

‘You’ll meet her next week if you go to Kent.’ She turned to her daughter. ‘You do realize that Richard will leave London and run home to lick his wounds.’

‘I’m not afraid of him,’ Tia said for what felt like the hundredth time.

‘That’s because you have his stubborn streak.’ Isadora smiled at Theo. ‘You’ll do,’ she told him. ‘Just stay one step ahead of her, because she’s
quick. We lost count of the number of occasions on which she went missing for hours at a time. When the other two were growing up and getting about, she used to take them with her.’

Nanny Joan agreed. ‘She was naughty, but interesting.’

‘I’m pleased to report that there’s been no improvement whatsoever,’ Theo replied. ‘Come along now. Maggie’s scouse awaits us.’

Isadora smiled. ‘I’m travelling with this gorgeous young man, Joan. You must make do with my daughter.’

On the way home, Theo told Isadora about the welcoming committee. ‘They all know who you are, and none of them will talk.’ He reminded her about Maggie and Rosie and the plan to keep
them in Kent until the child’s mother’s future could be assessed. ‘You already know Simon Heilberg. That should make seven, but Tia said nine, so I’ve no idea who the other
two are.’

Isadora thought about poor Simon. He had altered the course of his life for Portia, and he would be heartbroken, though Madam had told him not to relocate to Liverpool. ‘Is Simon aware of
the plan to abduct Rosie?’

‘It’s hardly abduction; she’ll be with her grandmother.’

‘All the same, the comatose mother is still the mother.’

‘I know,’ he sighed. ‘Yes, Simon’s aware. We shall throw ourselves on the mercy of his father. We need to know what happened to Rosie while her mom was entertaining
clients.’ He pulled into the drive, leapt out of the open-topped car and rushed to open the passenger door. They walked towards Tia’s entrance to the property.

Maggie’s dulcet tones floated down the stairs. ‘Is that yous lot?’ she cried.

‘It is indeed,’ Theo shouted.

‘Wait there,’ Maggie ordered, ‘while I press the doodah on the whatsitsname.’

‘The which on the what?’ Isadora enquired.

‘No idea, sorry.’

Handel’s ‘Arrival of the Queen of Sheba’ crashed down to ground level.

Maggie came down with the noise. ‘Sorry,’ she said, taking fingers out of her ears. ‘It was Miss . . . it was Tia’s fault. She’s got that bloody gramophone turned
up to gas mark nine.’

‘Where’s Rosie?’ Theo asked.

‘She’s zoo-keeping.’

Isadora beamed. ‘What a fabulous accent.’

Maggie bobbed up and down as if curtseying to royalty. ‘I seen you in the films,’ she said.

The second MG arrived. Tia jumped out while Theo opened the door for Joan.

Isadora mouthed at Maggie, ‘Call me Izzy while I’m here. Remember I’m in hiding, as will you be quite soon. That music! She does this to me every time, though occasionally we
get the “Ride of the Valkyries”.’ She glared at her daughter. ‘Look at her, Maggie – butter wouldn’t melt. Now, take me upstairs and I’ll turn
Handel’s handle to simmer, then I’ll get washed and changed.’

By seven o’clock, Tia’s flat felt smaller. Maggie fussed about with sherry and glasses, while Rosie played on the floor with one solid, sensible dog, plus one lunatic kitten. Isadora
and Joan shared the sofa, and Simon stalked about like a spare part. Theo and Tia had vanished. ‘Where are they?’ Isadora asked. ‘You see, Joan? She still does the disappearing
act.’

Simon walked to the window and looked down at the front garden and pathway. Owner and tenant were standing together, his arm round her waist, her eyes looking into his.
I am a damned fool,
standing here looking at them standing there. He has my life in his hands, literally. I needn’t have put myself through any of this. She warned me repeatedly, but did I listen? No. I heard
what she said, but didn’t heed it.

A
Liverpool Echo
van hove into view. The driver alighted, opened the rear door, and three other men jumped out. A middle-aged female left the van by the passenger door. She waited near
the vehicle while four men carried a fifth up the path; the fifth man’s legs came to a full stop at knee level. Theo Quinn reached into the van and lifted out a flat piece of wood with a
wheel at each corner.

When all had entered the ground-floor flat, the driver plus three men left in the delivery van. Eventually, Theo appeared in Tia’s flat. ‘Downstairs, everyone,’ he ordered.
‘We have a visitor who can’t walk. My table is set, and I’ll transfer the food. Rosie, take Mickle and Tyger down first.’

Rosie was delighted when she reached the lower flat. She hugged Harry and Martha before showing the red shoes to the latter. ‘Harry seen them this afternoon when we had a picnic at the
Pier Head. I had the bestest day in my whole life.’

When the others had arrived, Harry took his mouth organ from a pocket and played while Rosie sang ‘On the Good Ship Lollipop’. Her pitch was perfect, and she dressed the lyrics in
Shirley Temple’s easy-to-understand Americanese.

Here came the point at which Isadora Bellamy fell in love. This baby was only just five years old. How many like Rosie were buried under sin all over the place, London, Birmingham, Manchester,
Liverpool? She watched the grandmother wiping away tears, saw Portia closing her eyes, Theo blinking away emotion. Everyone in this room probably supported what was about to happen. Simon just
smiled and nodded at Isadora. He knew.

Isadora had a contract that needed just her signature. It would keep her in England for the foreseeable future, and the real money was in Hollywood, but she would stay and work in British
studios. A series of comedy films was on the cards, all entitled
Don’t Look Now, the
(whatever)
is Coming
. Potential whatevers included thus far Vicar, Policeman,
Mother-in-Law, Judge and Teacher. She now had plans for her earnings. Her life’s real work began in this moment, in this flat, in Liverpool.