Meet Me at the Pier Head

by Ruth Hamilton

  He sat on the floor opposite the two of them. ‘Is her grandmother telling her now?’

  Theo sighed. ‘Yes, and it must be damn hard for both of them. God, how does a person describe attempted suicide to a five-year-old? It’s no use wrapped up in jargon, because children from school will be hearing their parents talking about it. Shall we go into the living room? Maggie and Rosie are in a spare bedroom.’

  As he stood up, Simon noticed that Tia’s right hand was holding Quinn’s left. So it had happened, then. First prize to the swarthy-looking fellow who looked as if he needed a good shave and a hot bath. I should have stayed in Kent. She was right. She’s always bloody right. Her sisters are the same. No, hang on, Simon, that’s not true. Juliet’s sweet. Delia bats for the other team, and she’s plain, but Juliet has the real looks . . . Perhaps.

  They went into Theo’s living room and sat like three dummies in a shop window, frozen and silent. ‘They’re not talking,’ Tia whispered after several minutes. ‘Shall I go in?’

  Simon decided to save his beloved from that. ‘If no one emerges within ten minutes, I’ll go in. It’s all right for me, because I’m a non-person, a doctor. It gives me a professional edge, though I’m not looking forward to it. That poor, innocent child deserves better than all this. She needs decent parents.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Theo said.

  Tia announced her intention to make tea.

  When she was safely out of earshot, Simon spoke to Theo. ‘Are you two an item?’ There was no point in beating about the shrubbery; he wanted an answer, and he wanted it now.

  Theo shifted in his chair. ‘We seem to be growing fond of each other.’

  Simon waited, as he sensed that there was more to come.

  ‘But if she wants children, it can come to nothing,’ Theo said softly.

  ‘I see. Why is that? I’m a doc, so you can talk to me.’

  Theo shook his head almost imperceptibly. ‘I’m not impotent and, as far as I know, I’m not sterile. There’s a genetic fault on my mother’s side. Tia knows about it, though not in detail, not yet.’

  Simon frowned. ‘Is your mother affected by it?’

  ‘She’s dead.’

  ‘I see. Sorry about that – was she affected?’

  ‘To an extent, yes. I could be a carrier. For that reason, I have remained a bachelor. Portia breezed into my professional life first, then into my home life. She’s quite a character, isn’t she?’

  ‘She certainly is. I’ve been in love with her for years; I think her heart belongs to you, though.’

  Theo offered no immediate reply. For the first time in many moons, he felt truly alive, and she was the reason for his joie de vivre. There was something different about her, and it wasn’t just her fascinating accent or her stunning good looks. She was mischievous, intelligent, unpredictable and warm. ‘I’m sorry, Simon.’

  ‘Not your fault. She made it plain that I was swimming against the tide. I just wouldn’t listen.’ He gazed at Theo. ‘Do you love her?’

  Theo shrugged. ‘It’s a bit early for all that kind of jazz. Love at first sight isn’t to be trusted in my book. But I do have a lot of admiration for her – affection, too. As I said before, it depends what she wants out of life.’ He pondered for a moment. ‘For myself, I was wondering about vasectomy.’

  ‘Because of the genetic problem?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It could be arranged.’

  The conversation was cut short by Tia’s return. She passed a cup and saucer to Simon. ‘Drink that before you go in,’ she said. ‘It’s still very quiet, isn’t it? I wonder whether Maggie managed to tell her?’

  Simon put down his cup without taking even a sip. ‘Which door?’ he asked Theo.

  ‘Second on the left after the little morning room.’

  ‘I’ll be right back.’ The young doctor squared his shoulders, ran both hands through his hair and went off in search of Maggie and Rosie. He returned within a minute or two. ‘They’re not here,’ he said. ‘I looked in all the rooms, bathroom included – no sign.’

  Theo and Tia leapt to their feet. They left the flat by the front door; there was no one in the garden. Dashing round the back, they ground to a halt when they saw two figures on a bench. Grandmother and granddaughter sat very still. On a table in front of them, candles flickered in a light summer breeze.

  ‘Thank God,’ Tia whispered. ‘Come on, Teddy – we’re not wanted here. Maggie seems to be handling the situation well.’ She turned to Simon. ‘I think they’re having some kind of prayer ceremony – let’s leave them to it.’

  When they returned to Theo’s sitting room, Simon began to feel like a spare part or even a spy. They wanted their privacy, and he needed to get the hell out of here. After a swift farewell, he left and sat in his car for a few minutes, his mind wandering back through the years.

  He remembered getting bored one wet summer when all his friends seemed to be away on holiday, and he’d picked up some books of Mother’s. The stuff hadn’t been his cup of tea, but he’d persevered through Louisa M. Alcott’s works. The guy next door to the March family had been stuck on Jo, but Jo had rejected him, so he’d turned to . . . Amy? Juliet was sweet. She was a nurse, too, wasn’t she? Doctors often married nurses, so could he switch sisters as easily as the Alcott character had managed to do? It all sounded so slick and simple, just as it had when he’d read the novels. Surely that sort of thing didn’t happen in the real world?

  Tia’s always been the one for me, despite the attitude of her prejudiced father. I’ve been raised C of E, because Mother’s a Christian, so why should my surname matter? Now my thoughts are out of order. They’ve been all over the place since she said she was moving to Liverpool. Perhaps I should return to Dad’s practice, and to hell with all this northern business.

  He started the car. One thing was certain: he should get away now, at this moment, from the house where two newly hatched lovebirds were starting their courtship. Well, the arrival of Mrs Bellamy and Nanny should put progress on hold. With this thought in mind, he selected first gear and drove towards another lonely evening in a city he scarcely knew. Perhaps he should get out more.

  ‘He’s gone,’ Tia said. ‘Poor soul – he’s a good man, Teddy, but I just can’t love him. God knows I tried, even if only to drive my father wild. Simon’s dad’s a Jew, lovely man, a well-respected family doctor. My father’s a bloody Nazi.’

  ‘Sounds like a charming chap.’

  ‘He was very good in post-war films, mostly RAF. The problem is that he’s remained stiff and stilted, because he thinks he knows it all, and he hates what he terms relaxed acting. Realism isn’t for him, but the world has moved on while he stands still in the middle, rigid and posed. The only one who can gee him up is my mother, and she wants to fly solo from now on. Juliet’s the only person who feels sorry for him.’

  Rosie wandered in, her grandmother following. ‘We said prayers,’ the child said. ‘My mammy wanted to go to Jesus, but she got saved.’

  Tia reached out a hand and was pleased when Rosie took it. Sadie was in a coma, and there was a possibility of brain damage due to oxygen deprivation. The new reception class teacher made a sudden decision. ‘How would you like a holiday, Rosie? There’s this little house called Rose Cottage. It’s a bit of a mess, and we have to put buckets and bowls all over the place when it rains. There are fields and woods, and there’s a village nearby with shops and a green where children play. Oh, and a duck pond with mallards on it. You could feed the ducks.’

  Rosie’s eyes were round. ‘Yes, but what about my mam?’

  Maggie placed a hand on her granddaughter’s shoulder. ‘She’s asleep.’

  ‘Like you were asleep?’

  ‘No,’ Theo said. He believed in giving children the absolute truth. ‘Your nana had tired blood and needs more tests, but Mom is more ill, so she could be in hospital for some time. She can’t even have visitors yet, so why not go to Kent with Miss Bellamy?’

 
Tia thought for a moment. ‘School finishes on Friday. Why don’t we all go, just for a few days? We can telephone the hospital every morning and ask about your mother, Rosie. And if Bartle Hall’s empty, I can show you a terrific game of hide-and-seek.’ She turned to look at Theo. ‘Shall we try to borrow a four-seater with a luggage rack?’

  He stared hard at her. No matter what, Madam would always be in charge, the maker of decisions, the boss. The crazy thing was that he didn’t mind, because all around her were caught up by her enthusiasm and energy. Yes, she would take some keeping up with, but he sure as hell was willing to give it a try. ‘How many bedrooms?’ he asked, his face a picture of innocence.

  ‘Three,’ Tia answered. ‘Well, two and a cupboard with a window. We adult females will have the larger one, you will sleep in the middle-sized, and Rosie will have the tiny room. Even a person of her size may need to open the window and sleep with her feet outside.’

  ‘Gee, thanks on her behalf.’

  ‘She could use the sofa downstairs, or the gypsy caravan in the wilderness that used to be the back garden.’

  ‘Who owns the cottage?’ he asked.

  ‘Ma does. She bought them all from Pa when he ran out of money. There’s Rose, Lilac, Honeysuckle, Geranium and Holly, all cottages. They used to house the servants from the big house, and each cottage specialized in the growing of trees, flowers or bushes that matched its name. At Christmas, we all went to Holly Cottage for our holly. Rose and Geranium won masses of prizes, and the lane outside Honeysuckle smelled like a perfume factory. In the spring, Lilac Cottage was wonderful. It’s all changed now.’

  ‘Why?’ Rosie asked.

  ‘Everything except Rose Cottage and Lilac Cottage is rented out to people who work in Canterbury. Ma kept Rose Cottage for when she wanted to paint or read. And Rose Cottage has your name, doesn’t it?’

  Rosie nodded. ‘Can we go there, Nana?’

  Maggie was tired. ‘Let’s see about that tomorrow, shall we?’

  Tomorrow Tia was supposed to be taking Rosie for new clothes, but she didn’t mention that while Maggie was here. Some people objected to charitable deeds. ‘We all need a rest and a change,’ she declared. ‘What about Tyger, Teddy?’

  ‘Your mother and her friend will look after him, won’t they?’

  ‘Yes, he’ll be ruined. Ma will take him upstairs and feed him only the best. He’ll be spoilt.’

  Theo sat back and watched his tenant writing a list. She had lots of lists. He wondered whether she kept a list of lists. If she lost her list of lists, she’d be lost.

  Maggie took Rosie off to bed. ‘I think I’ll lie down with her,’ she said as she left the two lovebirds together. She might be lacking iron in her blood, but she could still read the signs, the body language, the expression on his face. Would Miss Bellamy become Mrs Quinn?

  ‘Why don’t you get a hardback notebook for lists?’ he asked. ‘That’s what I had to do with all my English pronunciations and Scouse idiom. Keep all the lists in one place.’

  She eyed him sternly. ‘Are you trying to get on my nerves?’

  ‘No need to try – it’s easy. You’re a controller, aren’t you? Am I OK to be letting you loose on my new intake in September?’

  ‘Sorry. There’s a lot of Pa in me, which is why he and I clash so often.’

  ‘Will he be at home?’

  She shrugged. ‘No idea.’

  ‘Your home’s Bartle Hall, right?’

  ‘Yes. It’s huge, decaying and beautiful. If he’s there, we’ll be fine. I can deal with him.’ The press, however, might be a different matter if they come looking for members of his family, for him, for local gossip. Oh, God, why does life have to be so difficult? When will this mess hit the newspapers? Will Maggie be willing to leave her daughter? Should Rosie be here in case her mother gets better or dies, or— She ordered herself to stop thinking.

  It was Theo’s turn to ponder. He’d already bought an ambulance that was being converted so that small groups from school could be taken out on trips. It all dovetailed so nicely, didn’t it? I want to be with her. Tom Quirke can take a rest for a while. Wherever she goes, I shall want to be with her. Is this insanity?

  Nine

  I wonder who the hell did that to his back, who flogged him and cut him and why? Was it because his mother was slightly handicapped, a bit different from everyday, run-of-the-mill folk? Who assumes the right to decry and murder the afflicted and to beat their children? I have read about the southern states of America with their weird slants on the Bible, their many little churches, their invented hell’s-fire-awaits-you religions, so fierce and unforgiving. But what kind of Christian beats a child and burns his mother to death? Oh, pull yourself together, Tia Bellamy, because you have things to do.

  Did no one comfort him when his mother was murdered? I have to know all these things. Why? Oh, I don’t know why I have to know, because my mind is full of him, full of empathy and something that bears a close resemblance to love. Maggie and Rosie seem relaxed, so that’s good.

  Child and grandmother were fast asleep and sharing a bed in one of Theo’s spare rooms. Tia closed their door quietly and rejoined Theo in his living room. She dropped into an armchair and kicked off her shoes, because her imprisoned feet had begun to ache.

  Theo glanced up from his newspaper and grinned. She was making herself thoroughly at home, and that idea pleased him. ‘What’s your problem?’ he asked. ‘Your brow is furrowed and your smile has died.’

  She sighed dramatically. ‘I’ve still two beds to dress for Ma and Nanny. Tomorrow’s no good, because I’m taking Rosie out for the day – I promised. In view of all that’s happened, the murder and her mother’s condition, I can hardly let the poor baby down. We’re going for shoes and perhaps a little handbag before having lunch in a restaurant. Oh, and she wants to see Harry the Scoot, her friend without legs. We’ll probably have afternoon tea out, too. That child is bright, and she needs stimuli.’

  Theo chuckled. ‘She’ll get plenty of that in the fall; her new teacher’s quite an unusual and illuminating woman.’

  ‘Is she now? She sounds marvellous. Do I know her?’

  ‘Perhaps. I’ve heard it said that only a wise man knows his father, though I think that’s connected to possible adultery. I maintain that it’s a wise person who truly knows him or herself. Shall I help you with the beds for your mom and her friend? I don’t mind, and I’m thoroughly domesticated.’

  Tia smiled. ‘Please. And we’ll need both cars to pick up the ladies from the station at six o’clock tomorrow evening. The MGs will suffice, because my visitors will have just one suitcase each.’ Her smile broadened. ‘You’ll get to meet your film star at last, Teddy, though you may not recognize her. My money’s on a dark wig, a brown coat and an accent of some sort. Nanny is slender and short with greying hair; she’ll come as herself. Shall we go upstairs and get things together while we have the chance?’

  He blinked a couple of times. Tia Bellamy made just about everything sound like an invitation to sin. He was guilty of the same, of course, though he was unused to women as forward as this one. ‘To dress beds? Certainly. We’ve had a busy day, haven’t we? Police, Welfare, dragging Maggie out of hospital, Tyger coming second in a fight with a geranium. I swear that cat has mental issues.’

  ‘Indeed,’ she concurred, ‘so he’s come to the right place, what?’

  ‘If you say so, it must be true.’

  Tia grinned. ‘At least Rosie’s visit to the children’s hospital is postponed. Thanks for letting me use the phone yet again. Simon knows we’re going to Kent and not to the children’s hospital. He’s popping a note through your letterbox. We’re to give it to his dad, Dr Heilberg Senior. Oh, I must warn you about my mother.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Never eat anything she brings to table. Whenever Mrs Melia, our cook and housekeeper, was ill, Ma ventured into the kitchen on the occasions when she wasn’t away at work. We all fled, suddenly remembering invitati
ons to dine or lunch with friends. When we turned up at the local cafe, the owners knew exactly why. They were very sympathetic and generous with portions.’

  ‘Oh dear.’

  Tia shook her head gravely. ‘Nanny’s not bad, though she does what she calls good, plain cooking with everything simmered to death, but she’s not a total write-off as a cook. She can do scrambled eggs – Ma manages to produce scrambled pans, absolutely uncleanable. To label my mother adventurous would be like referring to Everest as tall. She’s totally bloody lethal. Her mulligatawny soup takes the top layer off your tongue, and you could sole your shoes with any joint she lifts out of the oven. We bought her some vouchers for cookery classes in Canterbury, but she went just once and said it was boring because they started off with Windsor soup and croutons. I think she was expecting Cordon Bleu.’

  ‘Bugger,’ he said softly.

  ‘Hey, I’ve told you about pinching my script,’ she chided playfully. ‘If she invites you to dinner, plead insanity, world war or bubonic plague. I’m serious. She has the ability to make your stomach feel like a battlefield from the Napoleonic Wars.’

  ‘Yes, Miss.’

  Tia stood and pushed her feet into their shoes. ‘Right, come on, Mr Quinn. Beds.’

  ‘Yes, Miss.’

  ‘Are you taking the pi— the piffle?’

  He nodded gravely. ‘What’s a piffle?’

  ‘It’s a Delia word, a cross between urine and skiffle – it means they’ve had a bad night in a club.’ She held out a hand. ‘Come along, boss.’

  Theo took her hand. It was becoming plainer than ever that she was the leading player, and he wondered how this would work out at school. The bloody woman was worming herself into his affections, and he simply couldn’t manage to worry too much about that here, in a domestic situation, but his professional life mattered. He decided to address the situation as she led him along the side of the house. ‘Portia Bellamy,’ he began, ‘I hope you’re not going to try leading me by the hand or by the nose at school.’