The Liverpool Trilogy (6 page)

There were some things Moira couldn’t say after so short an acquaintance. Had she felt able to tell Lucy that she wouldn’t fear death half as much if someone might look after him . . . but no, she couldn’t do that. He was an adult, he was a doctor, and he would have to cope. All the same, Lucy was so right for him.

A few lost days followed Alan’s encounter with Mags. He didn’t want a repeat of the third degree from his daughter, so he booked himself into a small hotel on Chorley Old Road, ate infrequently, drank whisky while awake, and never changed his clothes. When the owner of the establishment had received several complaints about the smelly drunk in Room Five, she told him to go.

So he drove, in his cups, all the way up to the home he no longer had. It was a noisy journey, and a sound akin to screaming was getting on his nerves, so he was glad when he reached his destination, because he was beginning to see flashing coloured lights. Had the Martians finally invaded? He was definitely unwell, he decided, as he pulled into the driveway. He needed his bed, headache pills, a bottle of Johnnie Walker, and a bit of peace and quiet.

The noise stopped, and trouble began. Boys in blue told him he smelled like an open drain before insisting that he blew into a tube. He blew. He blew all the way to the rooftops, shouting about his wife, his daughter and somebody named Mags. ‘They don’t give a sodding damn for anyone, these bloody women. Sick ’n’ tired,’ he slurred. ‘Bin a good dad. Short of nothing, my kids. And now? I’m buggered. Do you hear me? I haven’t a leg to stand on.’ He stumbled, thereby proving his statement to be true. ‘We have to find out how to do clo . . . clon . . . cloning, then we won’t need women at all.’

‘Blow now, into this tube. Did you not hear our siren? Did you not see the lights on our car, Mr Henshaw? You were winding along the road like a snake escaping from a bag.’

He tried and failed to focus. ‘Do I know you?’ he asked, attempting a friendly smile.

‘Not yet, sir. All you need to understand is he’s the brains and I’m the looks. And we’re both in better nick than you appear to be. You have to blow into the tube.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you’re tired and emotional, and because I say so.’

‘You said that without moving your lips.’

‘I said nothing, sir. It was my partner.’

‘Was it? Clever, that.’ Alan moved in closer to his captors. ‘They’re taking over, you know. They are definite . . . definitely taking over all the time and every bloody where. They get in when we’re not looking.’

‘Do they, sir?’

Alan nodded rather vigorously, lost his balance, and had to be stabilized by the officers. ‘See, they’re even in your lot. They’ve infil . . . infilter . . . they’ve got in all over the bloody shop.’

‘Little green men? Pink elephants? Mr Henshaw, you are drunk, and we’ve followed you all the way through town.’

‘Even govern-er-ment. They crept in. Like the cat in the crypt . . .’

‘If you say so, sir. Now blow.’

‘Crapping ’n’ creepering out again. All over us. We’re covered in it.’

‘Yes, we can smell it, Mr Henshaw. Now blow, or it’s a blood test down the cop shop.’

He blew. When he’d finished blowing, he collapsed and lay in a senseless heap in the gateway of Tallows.

‘Hell’s bells,’ said one of the officers after looking at the registered reading. ‘He’s got a bit of blood in his alcohol. This is beyond us, Pete. If he dies in our car or in a cell, we’ll be filling in forms from now till the middle of doomsday. I’m calling it in.’ He reached into a pocket, took out his radio and ordered an ambulance.

Pete stayed near the body. ‘Still breathing, just about. I don’t know about a bender – this one looks to have been on the big dipper. Property developer, he is. My brother bought one of his houses up Breightmet way. It’s crap.’

‘Is it? Why, what’s up with it?’

‘What’s right with it would be a shorter list. Like we’re still waiting for the windows to fall out.’

‘Really? That bad?’

‘All the electrics are up the spout – the sockets fell out of the wall after a couple of months. Still under guarantee, so this fellow sent somebody round to fix things. Then the roof leaked, and they found some felt was missing. You name it, it happened. Great big crack down the gable end – my brother’s still waiting for reinforced foundations.’

‘Aye, so is this bugger. No visible means of support, has he?’

Alan opened one eye to find a pair of people looking down at him. Oh yes, he had gone down in the world.

‘Don’t move,’ said one.

‘I can’t,’ he replied. This admission was followed by a loud breaking of wind together with involuntary urination. A slight smile of relief visited Alan’s face for a fraction of a second. Then he passed out again.

The ambulance arrived. ‘Jesus,’ gasped a paramedic. ‘I’ve come across some smells in my time, but this takes the full beef curry plus a distillery and bad eggs. Has he peed himself?’

The officers nodded.

‘Give me the reading.’ He took the breathalyser. ‘Dear God, he should be dead. Is this his house?’

‘It is. You should see the ones he builds.’

‘Try to find the relatives, will you? He’s so tachycardic, he could do with a fifth gear. Neck brace and back board,’ he ordered the rest of his crew. ‘Get some fluids up on the hook and prepare the paddles. This fellow could have an infarction any minute. What a bloody mess.’

Pete looked at his mate. ‘Just like an episode of
Casualty
, isn’t it?’

‘Or
The Muppet Show
,’ came the reply. ‘Come on, let’s find this bloke’s poor family.’

But there was no one in the house. While the ambulance screamed away down the road, the pair of constables pressed their noses against the windows and decided that someone had done a flit. They saw patches on walls where paintings had hung, scars where furniture had rested on carpets. ‘Can’t blame them, Andy,’ said Pete.

Andy shrugged. ‘Right. This is a job for the boys out of the blue – let’s see what CID can make of it. I’m going for me dinner. That old soak’s already taken up more of our time than he deserves.’

Lizzie Henshaw finally tracked down her brothers in Chester, where they were happily lazing about on the river Dee in a work-shy little boat named the
Jupiter.
Lizzie had always considered Jupiter to be a rather dynamic name, but this craft was lagging well behind when it came to dynamism. At the pointed end, it had a bit of space for a couple of chairs and a small table, which left just about enough room for someone to steer. Inside, there were padded benches on which the twins often lounged or slept, but the boat wasn’t built for living on. That didn’t bother them. It was summer, they were on the loose, and all they required was the company of each other and plenty of beer.

‘Ahoy,’ she yelled foolishly from the bank.

‘Lizzie!’ answered Paul. ‘Stay there and we’ll come and get you.’

There followed a flurry of activity that was testament to their lack of experience in the area of seamanship – or rivermanship. They were hopeless. It was their ineptitude that made Lizzie love them as much as she did, because they had failed magnificently at so many useless and pointless activities. Archery, fencing, rugby, riding, rock-climbing, football, tennis – all these hobbies had proved disastrous, because they simply weren’t coordinated. They were brilliant, the best brothers in the world.

Lizzie scrambled aboard. ‘Have you two been picking up your letters from your friend’s house? Have you had anything from Mother?’

Mike shook his head. ‘Nope. Bill buggered off to Paris with some big bird from Manchester, and his parents are in the States till the end of September. We’ve been living on the river.’

‘But the
Jupiter
isn’t built for living on. She’s just for messing about in.’

‘We’ve done that as well,’ Paul admitted. ‘The secret is not to get completely sober, then you don’t care about living on shop-bought pies and chips.’ He focused properly on his sister. ‘What’s the matter, Liz? You’re not yourself.’

She perched on one of the rather unstable chairs. ‘Mother’s gone.’

‘Gone? Where? She’s not dead, is she?’ Paul’s face was white.

‘No, no – nothing like that. She’s set up bank accounts to get you two through uni and me through RADA, then she took all the company money, all Daddy’s, all her own, and mortgaged Tallows from cellars to attics.’

A long silence followed this statement.

‘Never,’ said Mike at last. ‘You know Mums. She’s too gentle and straight to do anything like that. I mean, look how he’s treated her over the years. If there’s a bad bugger at Tallows, it’s him, not her. He’s feckless, sis. And an alcoholic.’

Lizzie, her father’s favourite, had always hated to hear anyone speak badly of him, yet she knew, deep down, that their mother had always been the backbone, the quiet, even-tempered core of her childhood. It was Mother who had mended broken toys, bathed sore knees, made everything right. He had seldom been there. Because his presence was infrequent, his returns to the fold had always been celebrated. Looking back, she knew that Alan Henshaw had made himself the hero of the piece, since he turned up with toys, played games, and filled the house with laughter. Yes. He did all that before buggering off yet again. ‘He made himself special,’ she wept. ‘And made her dull. She was just there, then he’d come home, all joy, laughter and Liquorice Allsorts.’

‘He never took us in,’ said Paul. ‘Mike and I weren’t impressed. And don’t blame yourself, Liz, because girls are always fastened like glue to their fathers. I think it’s in the rules somewhere.’ He stood at the helm of his frail little craft. ‘What shall we do? Where do we live? I know we’re adults, but this sudden insecurity is not comfortable, is it? We don’t belong anywhere.’

She shook her head before mopping up the tears. ‘Financially, we’re OK as long as we get work after finishing our courses. She waited till we were old enough. That’s my belief, anyway. And I’ve emptied the house until we manage to find out what’s happening. Our father’s too daft to realize that the contents are worth more than a quarter of a mill – possibly even up to a half. I didn’t want him selling stuff off for peanuts. He did a disappearing act, and I came here to find you two. I just didn’t know what the hell else to do.’

‘Where is she?’ Mike asked.

Liz shrugged. ‘Everything’s gone – clothes, passport, jewellery. But I believe she’s got the cat, so that makes me think she’s still in the UK. The police won’t be interested, because she’s old enough to do as she pleases. They don’t bother unless foul play’s suspected.’

‘Where’ve you put the stuff from the house?’

‘Somewhere called Secured4Life dot com. Manchester. I paid some rent while we try to work out what’s happening. She never bad-mouthed Daddy, you see. It would have been beneath her. I can’t think of her as a thief, either. So until we know the truth, I’ve stashed what could be moved. I couldn’t work out what else to do.’

‘He blames her.’ This, from Paul, was not a question. ‘I’d bet my honours thesis that it was the other way round. He’ll be the culprit.’

Liz’s phone rang. She dragged it from her pocket. ‘Yes, this is Liz Henshaw. What?’ She looked at her brothers. ‘Right. We’ll get there as soon as we can.’ She closed the phone. ‘He’s in hospital with alcohol poisoning. The magistrates will have his driving licence if he survives. A nurse found my number in his mobile.’

They stood for a while in a quiet huddle, all sharing one thought. Mother would have dealt with this. Mums always handled everything, but her mobile phone was probably at the bottom of the Croal, and she would have bought a new one. Her old number was announced by the server as unreachable. They had lost their female parent, and her partner was probably bankrupt and definitely in hospital. Life had gone crazy, and they clung together like three lost children.

‘Right,’ said Paul. He was the tougher of the twins, so he would dispose of the
Jupiter
. ‘Mike, you go with Liz. You’re in no fit state to tie up what’s left of the bloody boat. I’ll follow. What a mess. Alcohol poisoning? Huh.’

In Liz’s Micra, she and Mike made the journey to the Royal Bolton Hospital. There was very little conversation at the beginning of the drive, as he remained shocked, while she had said most of what she’d intended to say. Strangely, she couldn’t quite manage to worry about Daddy. Mother was the bigger concern, since her behaviour was so untypical, so drastic. ‘I’ll bet you Glenys knows where Mother is,’ she said eventually.

‘And I’ll wager she’ll keep her mouth padlocked,’ was her brother’s reply. ‘She’s a lawyer, so she has to be trusted.’

‘It could be the menopause,’ she said. ‘Mother, I mean – not Glenys.’

Mike stared at the road ahead. He’d watched his mother watching his father. For years, he’d caught a glimpse of something or other. Hatred? No, not quite. It was as if Dad didn’t deserve any strong emotion from her, as if he’d always been a waste of space and oxygen. Contempt was the nearest he could come to describing his mother’s expression. ‘I think she’d been planning it for a while,’ he told his sister. ‘She wanted us all on our feet, you see.’

‘Why would she do that, Mike?’

‘Because she’s wonderful. Your eyes were clouded by Dad, Lizzie. He was excellent with you, because he likes pretty things. But she was always there for all of us. Never judged us, never berated us unless we were in total breach of contract. Even then, she took care to tell us what was wrong with our behaviour and why.’ He sighed. ‘I feel like an orphan.’

‘Dressed like that, you look like one.’ This effort to lighten the atmosphere in the car failed completely. ‘Mike, there’s nothing we can do to mend any of it. She’ll come round. She’ll get in touch. Mother’s not the type to let people down – far too decent for that sort of thing. I know this much – she must have been very hurt, because she loves Tallows. I find it difficult to accept the idea of her borrowing against the house. She’d have sold some of the contents if she’d needed money so badly.’

Mike nodded. ‘There’s more to all of this than meets the eye. I don’t trust him, Lizzie.’

She didn’t trust Daddy, either. But she couldn’t quite manage to say that out loud, not yet, anyway. ‘Here we are,’ she said as she pulled into the car park. ‘Let’s go and look at the damage.’