The Liverpool Trilogy

by Ruth Hamilton

  Alice chewed on a buttered soldier. ‘And Winston and Lucy. Six.’

  ‘What about Teddo?’ Rosh asked.

  She was awarded a withering glance. ‘Teddo not walking, not talking,’ came the reply from a child who lived on the edge of autism.

  ‘Cats don’t talk,’ was Kieran’s offering.

  ‘Meow,’ Alice said. Thus she achieved the last word. Breakfast was over, and she went to clean her teeth.

  A disobedient tear wandered down the older woman’s cheek. ‘Well, that’s us told, but. Didn’t I always say she’d come right? That child arrived in the world old and in a very bad mood. When she was born, she gave me the dirtiest look I ever got in me whole life. It was as if she knew me already, knew what a nuisance I am.’

  ‘Impossible,’ commented Kieran the scientist. ‘No one can be born knowing what a nuisance you are. That’s something that grows on a person like warts. I was at least four before I worked you out, Gran.’

  Rosh squashed a grin. ‘Go on now. Teeth, then you take Alice to school, Philly. Make sure you hand her over to someone sensible, preferably a teacher.’

  The older children left the room.

  Someone knocked at the door. Immediately, the whole of Anna’s little body stiffened. ‘I’m out. No, I’m dead, and you’re waiting for the undertaker to fit me with a nice wooden jacket. Or I’ve emigrated to be with our Dan in Philly-delphi-o. London? Christmas shopping? North Pole, South Pole, up the pole?’

  ‘Oh, Mother.’

  It was too late, anyway. A mischievous light shone in Kieran’s eyes as he delivered Mr Eric Holt to the women in the kitchen. Mr Eric Holt was slightly taller than Anna. The famous cap twisted in his hands as he addressed the two women. ‘Sorry. If I’d known you weren’t dressed, Mrs Allen, I wouldn’t have … er … Mrs Riley, I didn’t—’

  ‘We’re going now,’ Kieran shouted from the hall.

  Rosh went to see her children off. When she closed the front door, she noticed a deafening silence throughout the whole ground floor. He was probably still standing there, torturing the cap in work-worn hands. Well, Mother had to deal with her suitor, so Rosh ran upstairs to dress herself.

  She took her time. Underneath all the bluster and harsh words, Anna Riley was as soft as putty. It would take her a while to tell him to bugger off, because she never set out to hurt people. Or perhaps it wouldn’t take long, because this time Anna Riley was like a coiled spring; one touch, and she could jump. Such behaviour might be unexpected, but Mother’s unpredictability was predictable. She seldom behaved quite as people thought she might.

  Meanwhile, Anna was sitting at the table with her jaw almost on the plate. ‘Why ever on God’s good earth did he ask you, Eric? What in the name of mercy did you do to deserve such a request? I’m shocked right through to the middle of meself. Roy seems to be such a sensible man. Mind, we’ve not seen him in quite a while.’

  The visitor shrugged slim shoulders. ‘I was only having a quick look at me Brussels, thinking I could bring some home soon and give them out to people for Christmas. I say looking, but it was still nearly dark. And Roy has the plot next to mine, and he walks over bold as brass and asks me. Well, no. He wasn’t as bold as brass. In fact, he was a bit strange, like a puppet talking all on one note, no expression in his voice.’ Eric sighed and rubbed his chin. ‘He was odd, as if he was in shock. It’s good money he’s offering, as good as any wage from factory work, but my stomach turned over.’

  ‘I’ll make a pot of tea. Stay where you are while I think on things.’

  She rattled about and thought on things. The thing she concentrated on mostly lived across the street. It had survived a massive heart attack and was now in need of care. ‘Why you, though?’ she asked again.

  ‘I was there. Anybody with any sense was still at breakfast, but Roy often goes to the allotment before work, and I’ve not much else to do unless somebody has an odd job for me. I’m not one for lingering in bed half the day. It’s a life wasted, that kind of carry-on.’

  Anna mashed the tea and brought it to the table. ‘Let that brew,’ she advised. ‘Joseph Baxter needs a trained nurse.’

  Eric swallowed nervously. ‘Roy won’t let any woman near him. It was a bit … a bit embarrassing, really, because he told me some terrible stuff about what his dad had done to his mum. Then he asked me to let him know soon, and off he buggered. I stood there for that long, I was near froze to the spot. In fact, when I started to walk home, one of me wellies was stuck in the ice.’

  This man was a pest, yet Anna loved his Scouse humour. ‘But I still have to ask you again, Eric – why you in particular?’

  ‘Ambulance driver, Liverpool 1942.’

  ‘And what’s that to do with the price of fish? I answered phones two nights a week through the war, but that doesn’t make me a telephone engineer. Does he think changing gear and steering in a straight line makes you fit for a nursing career?’

  ‘Me and the crew saved a couple of lives, and I don’t mind washing folk and popping in to see if they’re comfortable, but him? I’d sooner look after a rattlesnake.’ Eric accepted a cup of tea. ‘I’m ready for that. In fact, I’m probably ready for morphine.’ He took a mouthful of the cup that cheers as long as you haven’t just been asked to look after a monster. ‘I needed that tea, Mrs Riley.’

  ‘Anna.’

  ‘All right. Anna.’

  She sat opposite him once more. ‘What’s your problem? Just tell him no, you can’t because you’ve jobs to do.’

  ‘I can’t. Poor lad’s had it rough all his life, what with the leg, his mam dying young, and being left in the company of that bloody – excuse me – bastard of a father. It’s just twelve noon till six, weekdays only. I can still get to my plot in the mornings and at weekends.’

  ‘And you’ll be a rich man, so. But money’s not everything. Look. My Roisin’s a friend of Roy’s. Let her find out what state the old man’s in. Or go and take a look yourself.’

  ‘I’m a coward, aren’t I?’

  ‘No. Oh, dear me, no. He’s a special kind of bad. Let Rosh get to know exactly what’s involved. I know this much – Roy swore he’d never have him back in the house. Roy owns the place, you see. But he’s too soft-hearted to see even that bad swine on the streets. The lad will have no peace till Joseph Baxter’s six feet under.’

  Eric gazed into his cup. ‘Well, I’m stopping short of murder, I can tell you that for no money.’ He paused for a few seconds. ‘What am I going to do all day stuck in a house? What if somebody wants a window fixed or a door shaved? I could be decorating for decent folk. And if I’m not there to do the jobs, people will find somebody else. I like going in different houses and gardens. I like wandering about. Stuck in there with him? I’d be crackers in a week.’

  Rosh came in. ‘Crackers in a week? My mother could drive you there in ten minutes, and you’d need no petrol.’

  So Eric had to go through the tale all over again.

  ‘You’re not doing it,’ Rosh said. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll talk to Roy tonight. The money may be good, but if you lose all your customers, you’ll be worse off in the long run.’ She studied the visitor. It was clear that he felt less than a man, that he didn’t want a woman putting things right for him. ‘Roy knows me well, Eric. Phil and he were friends at school together, so we go back a long way.’

  ‘And I’ve grown veg next to him for years. I was just that gobsmacked this morning, I didn’t know what to say. Look at the size of me. I’m fit enough for me age, but I don’t fancy heaving Joseph Baxter about. And I should have said that; I should have just told him no.’

  Anna managed to hold back a nervous giggle. Eric Holt looked as if an autumn breeze might knock him over. ‘Look, Rosh won’t make a show of you. She’ll ask how things are going, then he’ll mention you, and she’ll tell him you have a lot of work. After all, you might have told us you had a queue of jobs when you were here doing the bedroom.’

  Still glum, Eric stirred his secon
d cuppa. ‘I just want the ordinary life. Three pints on a Friday, you know what I mean? Then two or three hours a day on me plot or in me little shed on the allotment, read the papers on a Sunday, do a few jobs for people, fish and chips on me way home.’

  Anna finally laughed. ‘The ordinary life? Whatever’s that when it’s at home? I lost the best man in the world, and ended up here with this lot and two cats from the dark side. Mind, Winston’s helping Alice with her asparagus.’

  Rosh refused to react immediately. Anna knew the true name of her granddaughter’s possible disability, but she had to make light of it, partly because she tried not to believe in it, mostly because she pretended that Alice was in a bad mood that had lasted years rather than hours.

  ‘She has Aspergers,’ Rosh explained for Eric’s sake. ‘Lives in a world of her own, not keen on talking to people.’

  ‘Alice? Your littlest?’

  Rosh nodded. ‘She doesn’t communicate well.’

  Eric’s eyes were wide. ‘She didn’t shut up while I was here one afternoon. I thought I’d never get finished. We did colours, the alphabet, Teddo One-Eye, being a tree, hairbrushing and would I teach her to whistle.’

  ‘When was that?’ Rosh asked.

  ‘You were hoovering, I think. Being a tree’s hard on the arms – I nearly charged you extra.’

  ‘You see?’ Anna was triumphant. ‘I told you – she’s just in a very bad mood with us. She should have been born in Buckingham Palace to a classy family. We are a great disappointment.’ She collected crockery and began to-ing and fro-ing between table and sink.

  Eric was on his feet and starting to murder his hat all over again.

  ‘She prefers men,’ Rosh said quietly. ‘She was always with her dad, because she was his princess. And she tries to hang on to Kieran. Can it be as simple as that?’

  No one replied.

  Rosh led Eric to the front door. ‘I’ll be tactful,’ she said. ‘My mother doesn’t do tact. She’s like a double-decker bus stuck in a narrow alley, all noise and no progress.’

  He cleared his throat. ‘She’s a good woman.’

  ‘She is. Erm … she likes the cinema. Romantic films with happy endings.’

  ‘Right.’ He rammed the abused cap onto his head and walked homeward.

  Rosh turned and stopped immediately. Her mother was right behind her.

  ‘She likes the cinema,’ Anna said quietly, her tone coloured by mimicry. ‘What the heck do you think you’re up to, Roisin? Are you trying to pair me off with yon fellow?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then why ask him to take me out?’

  ‘Because Alice needs him.’

  Anna folded her arms and stretched her spine; sometimes, a woman wanted to be taller than she really was. ‘Alice needs a man. She seems to like a deeper voice, though Kieran’s is still lightweight. You go and find a man. Eric’s a confirmed bachelor in his sixties. We’re short of a man about your age. You don’t have to marry him, for goodness’ sake, but …’

  ‘I don’t want one.’

  ‘Neither do I. So. What do we do?’

  Rosh shrugged. ‘Share Eric?’

  At this point, both women collapsed against the walls. Rosh used a foot to slam shut the front door and watched as her mother slid down to the floor like a frail maiden in a silent movie. Rosh joined her on the rug. But there was no silence to be had, because they both howled and beat the walls with their hands, the floor with their heels.

  ‘We want locking up,’ Anna finally managed. All Rosh’s life, mother and daughter had experienced shared lunacy. ‘And how would we divide him?’

  ‘Half a pint each,’ Rosh suggested.

  ‘And … oh, my Lord … and three pints on a Friday. Isn’t that … oh, save me … isn’t that what he said?’

  Rosh nodded. ‘Fish and chips on the way home.’

  ‘Cheap.’

  They pulled themselves together with difficulty and started on the day’s chores. Anna boiled ham, skimmed off the salt and set it to roast in the oven. She then tackled beds and upstairs dusting.

  Rosh ironed, mended, sewed on loose buttons and thought about her husband. She’d been thirteen when he’d first asked what she was doing tonight, and, until she was fifteen, she’d delivered the same answer. Whatever she was doing would not involve him, was none of his business, and why didn’t he move on – Lancaster was nice, or so she’d heard. Sometimes, for the sake of variety, she chose a different location. Madrid, Blackpool, Rome, Venice – the poor lad was urged to relocate in many widespread places.

  But Philip Allen had been immovable. Little notes pushed into her hand on the way home, a couple of buttercups and a tired dandelion presented with a flourish as she had neared the house, Valentine cards and, worst (or best) of all, Phil loves Rosh painted on the remaining wall of a bombed house. In purple. Everyone who travelled by bus to Liverpool saw that garish message.

  She put down the blouse she was working on. Had he emerged from work thirty seconds earlier or later on that fateful day, the van would have missed him. She would have been ten thousand poorer, but what was money compared to the love of her life, the children’s hero?

  A little face insinuated itself round the door. ‘Stop it.’

  ‘Stop what?’

  ‘Thinking about … things. Depressing yourself.’

  Rosh sighed despairingly. ‘How do you know what I’m thinking?’

  ‘I’m your mother.’

  Rosh looked up at the ceiling before fixing her gaze on Mother. ‘Placing a body in a box in the ground is not about laying to rest. It’s about getting rid of matter that will only decay. The putting to rest happens in here.’ She tapped her forehead with a finger. ‘And I’m getting there. I’ve reached the stage where it’s thinking rather than just feeling. So don’t interfere. I have to get through this my way and without those sleeping pills. And with no help whatsoever from you.’

  Anna withdrew. There were times when a mother didn’t know best, and this was one of those rare occasions. Watching Rosh suffer had been Purgatory for Anna. A widow herself, she knew exactly how her daughter had felt, but that hadn’t helped. Each person had to learn for him or herself, no short cuts, no assisted passage, just a one-way ticket to despair, the return fare waiting until the mourner was ready to pick it up.

  Rosh picked up her older daughter’s blouse. Phil had been so proud of Philly. She was an excellent musician, though no one had managed to work out the source of her gift. Gift. Ah, yes, the dining room would need to be locked and the curtains closed, since the new piano would never fit down the chimney, so Santa had made special arrangements. That tale was for Alice only, of course.

  Kieran was to have a brand new bicycle, while Alice’s main present was a dolls’ house, fully furnished and with lots of little ‘people’ to be placed here and there. Those two could be kept in Roy’s house, but the piano had to be locked away like a criminal until Christmas Day. In fact, all the gifts could stay here, in the out-of-bounds dining room. She hadn’t seen much of Roy recently; perhaps he wanted to keep himself to himself for the time being. Should she stay away? Would he want a visitor?

  Anna returned. She was good at returning. ‘I’ll see to the children while you get ready to go across to Roy’s.’

  ‘He doesn’t come home till just before six. Anyway, I’m ready enough.’ The penny dropped. ‘Ah, you want me to look nice for him. Shall I wear my tiara and a full-length evening gown? Do I propose?’

  Anna wagged a finger. ‘Now you know how it feels when you try to sell me on to Eric Holt. She likes the cinema, indeed. Go easy on Roy, but. He’s one of the most unfortunate men I ever knew. If anyone ever deserved help, he does. Anyway, I’ve been thinking.’

  ‘Don’t go straining yourself, Mother.’

  ‘We can do it. We make an extra plate of lunch and take it across. One stays till three o’clock, the other till six. I’ll give up me evening job, and I’ll be the one staying till six, because you’ll want to
be here when the kids come home. You won’t need to go back to work, and there’s neither of us afraid of him. What do you think?’

  ‘No good. Roy doesn’t want women in the house.’

  ‘We’re not women; sure we’re banshees or viragos or whatever. One bad word out of him, and I’ll have him chained up like a mad dog. Who’s afraid of a man whose ticker’s on its last tock?’

  ‘Mother, the job ends when he dies. It has a limited future.’

  ‘Then I’ll do it by meself.’

  ‘Oh, will you now? And what if he has a paddy? What if he kicks off and clobbers you with his walking stick? And you’re going to give him the bed bath?’

  It was clear that Anna had given no thought to ablutions. ‘Ah, no.’ She shook her head. ‘I draw the line at the waist. Just see what Roy says – you’ve nothing to lose. Now, let’s get tidied up so the three urchins can come along and untidy us all over again. Women, you know, are just pack animals. Carry and place, lift and lower, pick up and drop. Who picks us up when we drop? Another woman, that’s who.’

  Rosh grinned behind a hand. Mother would have made a fabulous suffragette, but even London wasn’t bad enough to deserve Anna Riley. However, she had to admit to herself that Anna Riley was magnificent. That so small a body should contain so huge a personality was miraculous.

  The children came home. As predicted by their grandmother, Kieran and Philly left a trail of stuff in their wake. Alice didn’t. She hung up her coat and satchel before going upstairs with Teddo in search of Winston. According to experts, obsessive behaviour was part of the syndrome. ‘Syndrome?’ Anna whispered. ‘People are stupid.’

  She was ready for the Terrible Two. ‘Pick up every piece of yourselves, feet included, and return this house to the state it was in before you arrived. Alice has cleared up after herself, but you two are throwing in our faces all the work we did today. Your mother’s not a servant, so buck up and pick up.’

  They bucked up and picked up. Now she would have another go at Rosh. ‘Wear that nice petrel blue skirt. Cheer him up a bit.’

  ‘Torment him, you mean. I’m not the sort that plagues decent folk. If he wants a wife, he can look elsewhere. Now, unless you want me to go across in curlers and headscarf, shut up. In fact, shut up anyway, because you’re getting on my nerves in a big way.’