A Daughter's Choice

by June Francis

  Still shaken by the encounter, it was with dismay that she saw Andy standing outside the Windermere Hotel when she got off the bus. She stopped in her tracks and realised he must have drink on him because he was in a worse state than he had been earlier, swaying as he leant against the wall. She wondered how he had managed to trace her when she had given him a false address, but that was irrelevant at the moment.

  She told herself she was stupid to be frightened in broad daylight. Someone would come along just as they had earlier. She just had to stand up to him and show him he couldn’t frighten her. She eased back her shoulders, one of which was giving her pain where he had gripped it, and walked in the gutter towards the pet shop, keeping her distance from him.

  He came across the pavement at a run and lunged at her. ‘I’ve been waiting for you! You bloody humiliated me in that church!’ he yelled, grabbing hold of her.

  ‘You’re hurting me, Andy,’ she gasped. ‘Let go of my arm or I’ll call the police.’

  ‘Don’t care! You should be punished! You and that bitch of a daughter.’ He swung her round by her arm and then released her. She went flying and would have landed on the road if someone had not caught her.

  It was Frank Jones and she clung to his overcoat while her head swam.

  ‘You all right, girl?’ He steadied her with both hands.

  She nodded mutely and he turned to Donny and said, ‘You look after Mrs Mcdonald.’

  ‘Right, Granddad!’ Donny thrust his hand into Celia’s and held it tightly as Frank faced Andy.

  ‘I think, like, yer’re bothering this lady,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to cause a disturbance, like, but I think yer should gerrout of here.’

  ‘Eff off!’ snarled Andy, looking down at the little man and doubling his fists.

  Frank shook his head. ‘That’s not nice language in front of a lady.’ He half-turned and then he spun round fast and caught Andy with a beautiful left hook to the chin and then a right one on the side of his face. Then another on the chin. The ex-sergeant-major crumbled at the knees and slid slowly to the ground.

  Frank turned to Celia who stared at him with admiration and surprise on her face. ‘I was going to marry him,’ she said in wonder.

  ‘Oh, heck! I’m sorry, luv. I didn’t –’

  ‘No! I’d already changed my mind, that’s why he got rough. I must have been desperate, that’s all I can think.’

  ‘You desperate! A luvly woman like you?’ said Frank, his voice as gentle as a caress.

  Celia saw the glow in his eyes and her heart lifted. ‘You say the nicest things, Frank.’

  ‘It’s true,’ he said simply. ‘Now would yer like me to see yer home?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ She tucked her free hand under his arm and together she, Frank and Donny stepped over Andy and made for home.

  Chapter Twenty

  The FOR SALE sign had finally gone up outside the Arcadia and Katherine was feeling down in the dumps. Not only had she not heard from Patrick, she had had no word from Celia about how she had got on with Mick.

  Ma had taken to using a walking stick and was constantly saying how she hoped Katherine would come up to Scotland with them; after all, she already had friends up there from holidaying at the house. She mentioned one particular boy called Alastair who was the local doctor’s son. As if that was not enough to persuade Katherine up North, she added that Wendy was thinking of spending the holidays with her grandparents to help them out and would be good company. Katherine did not mind the girl but much preferred male company, namely Patrick’s. Katherine decided she had to see him as well as Celia before Ma wore her down.

  She went to the photographer’s first, only to be told, ‘You’ve missed him, dear. Although I haven’t seen much of him lately. He was talking of finding a flat where he could have his own dark room. You had a lovers’ tiff?’

  ‘Of course not!’ she said stiffly, and walked out feeling hurt that Patrick had not mentioned anything about a flat to her. She met with as little success at the pet shop in her search for her mother.

  ‘She’s gone to the pictures with Mr Jones and Donny,’ said Mrs Evans. ‘How are you, girl? You’re not looking your normal cheerful self. Things not working out?’

  ‘They’re OK.’ She forced a smile. ‘It’s just that I haven’t seen much of Patrick. I’ve been told he’s getting himself a flat but I’ve no idea where.’

  Mrs Evans clucked her tongue against her teeth. ‘You young people! Careless, that’s what I call it. But cheer up! He did call here the other day and was talking to your mother. Perhaps she knows his address?’

  Katherine’s spirits lifted. ‘I’ll come tomorrow. No! Ask her to come and see me instead. Mick’s coming too.’

  But the next day Katherine returned from shopping to be told Celia had rung to say she could not make it that evening, but if Katherine would like to meet her outside Cooper’s on Friday, she would treat her to lunch.

  It was obvious as soon as she saw Celia that she was in a bit of a stew. Katherine seized her arm and whisked her inside the store. ‘I’m being followed,’ said her mother, linking arms with her and hurrying her upstairs.

  ‘By who?’

  ‘Andy Pritchard. He’s proving a bit of a nuisance. He’s out for revenge!’

  ‘You’re joking?’ Katherine stopped in her tracks but Celia hurried her on.

  ‘Believe me, this is no joke.’

  They had reached the restaurant and managed to get a table by a window. Celia’s eyes searched the street below and, leaning across the table, she grabbed Katherine’s arm and hissed, ‘See down there? The man in the raincoat and trilby with the orange scarf? That’s him! If it weren’t for Frank, I’d be a nervous wreck by now.’

  ‘Frank?’

  Celia resumed her seat and flushed as she toyed with a fork on the table. ‘Frank Jones – Donny’s grandfather. He’s been awful good to me.’

  A pucker appeared between Katherine’s eyebrows. ‘What happened with you and Mick? I thought you were making friends?’

  ‘We have! And he did suggest we get married, for your sake, but … it wouldn’t work, luv,’ she said earnestly. ‘We’re not what each other needs. He wants someone stronger than me to stand up to him otherwise he can get a bit above himself. I know he can be kind and a real charmer when he wants but he’s not for me.’

  Katherine swallowed her disappointment. ‘Well, if you feel like that, there’s nothing I can say.’

  ‘No, there isn’t, luv, because I’m going to marry Frank and we’re going to tie the knot soon. He’ll keep me safe from Andy.’

  ‘But he’s only little and he’s old! Could he defend you?’

  ‘He already has,’ said Celia proudly. ‘He used to be a flyweight boxing champion when he was young! I know he’s a bit older than me but he loves me and he’ll do anything for me. It sounds kind of sudden but he has shown an interest before and he’s got a nice little house that’ll suit me down to the ground – and it’s handy for the pet shop. I don’t know how Mrs Evans’ll manage without us living there but I’ll do me best to help her, and Frank says I don’t have to give up me work altogether. He wants me just to cut me hours so I can be there for Donny and him when they come in.’

  She looked so happy that Katherine could not help being happy for her. ‘It sounds perfect,’ she said sincerely.

  ‘Doesn’t it just?’ Her mother’s eyes shone.

  A waitress came to the table. ‘Are you ready to order, madam?’

  ‘Give us a few minutes more, luv,’ said Celia, waving her away.

  Katherine stared at her, remembering the first time they had had lunch here, and thought how much her mother had changed. And that’s down to me! she realised. In so many ways her leaving the Arcadia had been a good thing. She had matured as Celia had said on Mothering Sunday and whatever happened in the future with Patrick, she would be always glad she had done what she had and gone with her mother. So many people had come together because of it: Jack and V
icky, Ben and Sarah, Celia and Frank. Suddenly she realised that although strictly speaking she no longer had four brothers, she would be taking on board a stepbrother in young Donny and could not be happier about that because she was fond of the boy.

  ‘When’s the wedding to be?’

  ‘Next month. We don’t see any point in hanging around but it’s going to be a proper wedding with banns read at St John’s and invitations sent out. I haven’t many friends but the ones I’ve got, I’d like to be there.’ Celia’s grey eyes were suddenly anxious. ‘Do you think Pops would give me away? He is my godfather.’

  ‘I’m sure he would.’

  Celia smiled. ‘And you’ll be my bridesmaid?’

  ‘Why not! Although – are you sure you wouldn’t like Rita? If it hadn’t been for her, you might have ended up with Mr Pritchard.’

  ‘Don’t!’ Celia gave a tiny shiver and glanced towards the window. ‘It’s getting that I feel I’m being watched all the time.’

  ‘OK. But what about Rita? She’s more your age.’

  Celia hesitated then shook her head. ‘I’ll send her an invite but I want you. If it wasn’t for you, I’d never have met Frank. You’ll have to come round the shops with me one Saturday and we can pick frocks.’

  ‘OK, if that’s what you want.’

  ‘I’ll go to the Arcadia with you after we’ve eaten, but will you tell Mick I’ve decided not to marry him? I know you might have liked the idea, luv, but I don’t think he’s going to be that disappointed.’

  Katherine nodded, wishing she could find someone for him. At the moment it was looking like that old Spanish gypsy had got it all wrong.

  It was when their soup was set in front of them that she asked Celia about Patrick and whether he had told her he had found himself a flat. Her mother gave her a wide-eyed look. ‘Me, luv! Why on earth would he do that? Why do you ask? Hasn’t he been in touch?’

  ‘Not for over a week. I know that doesn’t sound long to you but it is to me!’ She put down her soup spoon, her appetite having deserted her for the moment, and gnawed on a fingernail. ‘Who knows when the Arcadia’ll be sold and I’ll be whipped off to Scotland? I might never see him again!’

  Celia avoided her eyes, crumbling a piece of bread into her soup. ‘If he’s for you, he’s for you, luv. Why don’t you wait and see what happens? And in the meantime, let’s decide what colour bridesmaid dress you want and think of a way of avoiding Andy outside. God only knows what’s happening to the toy shop while he’s drinking and following me. You know what he did …’ She proceeded to tell Katherine about his attack on her.

  Katherine was angry but also felt slightly guilty for bringing this upon her mother. ‘Still,’ she said reassuringly, ‘he’s not going to do anything now with all the crowds around. Let him follow us! If he comes near the Arcadia, Jack or Pops will soon see him off.’

  Despite her words Katherine had to admit it felt a bit spooky, knowing someone was following you with ill-intent, and had to resist the temptation to keep looking over her shoulder. Still they arrived at the Arcadia without Andy’s making a move to harass them. When they spoke to John about him he went outside but there was no sign of Celia’s erstwhile bridegroom and they both hoped that was the last they would see of him.

  Mick appeared unmoved by the news that Celia was marrying someone else when Katherine told him. ‘I can see you’re disappointed, kid,’ he said. ‘But she’s showing sense. We got over each other years ago.’

  ‘Then why did you ask her to marry you?’ she demanded. ‘Was it because you were thinking of me?’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Aye! But also to give her the chance to turn me down.’

  She smiled and linked her arm through his. ‘You are funny. Why should she want to do that?’

  ‘It’s women who are the funny creatures. Anyway the wedding’s off and I’m still alone and so are you. Do you mean to go up to Scotland with Ma or will you live with Celia and her new husband when the Arcadia is sold?’

  Katherine’s smile faded. ‘I’ll probably go to Scotland. Ma looks like she’s going to be in a wheelchair by the time she gets there, the way she’s been limping.’

  ‘I didn’t think she was that bad.’ His eyes were thoughtful as they rested on her face and he said gently, ‘What would you really like to do? You could always come and stay with me for a while, you know.’

  ‘Thanks, but …’ She glanced around the basement living room, at the well-worn familiar furniture and the picture of her great-grandmother on the wall. ‘I really would like to stay here and carry on what she started. I know it’s impossible but …’ She shrugged.

  ‘What about this Patrick I’ve heard about?’

  Katherine stared at him in surprise before averting her eyes and gazing into the fire. ‘I haven’t heard from him and he’s probably Catholic and Ma’s met him and doesn’t approve!’ Her voice sounded strained.

  ‘I doubt she would approve of any boy you brought home so I wouldn’t let that bother you.’

  Katherine pulled a face. ‘She’s been going on about this doctor’s son up North. I think she wants someone rich and settled for me.’

  ‘Understandable. But it’s your life, Katie, and Ma has Pops.’

  ‘But he’s old!’

  ‘He’s only in his late-sixties and his grandfather lived to a ripe old age.’

  ‘But Pops mightn’t and then she’ll be all alone!’

  ‘I’d say face that when it comes. Anyway, I’ve come straight from work and poor ol’ Nelson will be waiting for his dinner. I’ll have to go.’

  ‘I’ll see you out.’ She thought how strange it still felt, accepting he was her father and not an elder brother.

  They stood at the top of the area steps and he said, ‘Come and see the house soon. I think you’ll like it. It’s right by the river.’

  She smiled. ‘I’ll come.’

  ‘Good girl!’ He touched her hair with a gentle hand and she watched him walk down the Mount before turning and going back inside with a heart that felt lighter because he had seemed to understand a little of how she felt.

  When Mick left the Arcadia to catch the Southport train he did not get off at Waterloo but instead travelled to the end of the line, having made up his mind to find Rita if he could. He was to meet with disappointment because she was no longer working at the Seaview and when he visited the address the woman behind Reception gave him, he was told she had gone on a cruise and they were unsure when she would be back.

  ‘Will you tell her Mick Ryan called?’ he said.

  ‘Mick Ryan,’ repeated the woman, smiling. ‘I’ll tell her.’

  Mick had to be content with that but was soon imagining Rita meeting a millionaire and coming home married. He felt gloomy at the thought and began to envisage a lonely future for himself. Like his daughter, he began to believe that Spanish fortune teller had got it all wrong.

  Rita returned home a week later, sunburnt and refreshed. Although she had enjoyed the Mediterranean cruise there had been times when she had felt lonely despite having attracted the attention of several men. But they were either too old or too polished and none measured up to Mick Ryan. So it came as a welcome surprise when her landlady told her he had called, but once she started thinking about his visit, she found herself worrying. What if he had called to tell her he was going to marry Celia?

  She was thinking about that as she opened her post and took a silver-edged card out of an envelope. For a moment she felt sick. Then she read the card and sank into a chair. Why Celia was marrying a Francis William Jones instead of Andrew Pritchard or Michael Ryan she did not know but she felt euphoric about it and immediately made up her mind to visit the address given on the card.

  There were puppies in the pet shop window. Nice little dogs all curled up in a heap in a jumble of heads and tails and paws. They were slumbering, all but one who opened an eye and gazed at her for a brief sleepy moment. Rita thought: Celia seems to have gone from one kind of caring to another!
She gazed a little longer at the puppies and then opened the door and went inside.

  An old woman sat on a chair knitting while Celia leant on the counter reading from a pile of newspapers.

  ‘I’d like a puppy, please,’ said Rita in a lilting voice.

  ‘Right.’ Celia straightened and instantly her features registered astonishment. ‘It’s you, Rita. Blinking heck! I never expected to see you here so soon.’

  ‘I got your invitation and felt I had to come. There were questions I wanted to ask you.’

  ‘About the wedding, you mean? Come right in!’ Her expression had changed to one of delight and she waved a hand in the direction of the old woman. ‘This is Mrs Evans, by the way. She’s my employer and friend. Mrs Evans, this is Rita who I used to work with. You’ll have a cuppa, won’t you, Rita?’

  ‘When have I ever been known to say no to such an offer?’ she said in a teasing voice.

  ‘You just wait then,’ said Celia, reaching for the coat that hung behind the curtain. ‘I’ll run up to Sayers for some cakes. We always have one at this time of day.’

  ‘You don’t have to bother running for me,’ said Rita, glancing over her shoulder as she shook hands with Mrs Evans.

  ‘It’s no bother. Mrs Evans’ll take care of you while I’m gone. Did you really mean that about a puppy?’ Celia babbled. ‘They’re gorgeous, aren’t they? But your landlady, won’t she mind?’

  ‘I’ll explain about that. You go and get the cakes.’

  ‘OK.’ Celia laughed. ‘I feel all excited, seeing you again. I’ve got such a lot to tell you …’

  ‘Me too.’ Rita gave her a friendly push in the direction of the door before turning towards Mrs Evans who was regarding her with interest.

  ‘She’s talked a lot about you,’ said the older woman briskly. ‘But business first! Which puppy do you want? We can’t keep them for long or they cost us too much to feed so the sooner we’re rid of them the better.’

  ‘The dun-coloured one but I’ll leave him here until I’m ready to go,’ said Rita, and asked advice on what she would need and how to look after him.