Meet Me at the Pier Head

by Ruth Hamilton

  She stopped so suddenly that he shunted into her. ‘I wasn’t born yesterday,’ she said haughtily. ‘I shall know my place, Mr Blackbird. You’ll be my superior and my mentor, and I’ll be an asset. This is home. You told me to treat it as my home, so you’re my neighbour. Get used to it.’ She looked him up and down. ‘Are you afraid of me? Am I utterly terrifying?’

  ‘Not exactly. You’re pushy, that’s all.’

  She dropped his hand, folded her arms and stood with her back to the door to her flat. ‘And you’re moody. I think you’re scared of what might happen between us, but fear not, I have yet to be charged with rape. I like you. I more than like you. And you’re interested in me – that kiss betrayed you, Teddy. We’re adults, so what’s wrong with any of that?’

  ‘Babies,’ he replied.

  ‘But there are ways of prevention, as I’m sure you know. Those thick, washable and reusable articles are history – we now have throw-away sheaths. What’s the matter with you?’ She tapped a foot. Always outspoken, she wasn’t about to begin couching her opinions in duck plumage. ‘This is our one and only chance, Theodore. I am a hundred per cent safe today, and we may not get another opportunity for weeks, depending on how long we both have guests.’

  ‘Safe?’

  She nodded. ‘I am safe. Now, are we dressing beds or using one?’

  Theo inhaled deeply. Pushy was not the word for this precocious madam. ‘You are a member of my staff, Tia. In a few weeks, we’ll be colleagues.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And it could be awkward.’

  ‘OK. Good evening, then.’ She opened the door, went inside and slammed it in his face. This was the first time she’d been turned down, and it didn’t feel good. What was the matter with him? She wasn’t ugly, wasn’t shy or stupid or undesirable. But she was like her father, wasn’t she? Over-confident, determined to have her own way, selfish, ill-tempered on occasion. She was a damned fool, because the loveliest, handsomest, funniest, wittiest man was a few inches away on the wrong side of a door. Well, she thought he was still outside on the path.

  She bent down and lifted the letterbox flap. ‘Are you still there?’

  ‘No, I’ve gone.’

  Tia grinned. ‘When did you leave? Is there a forwarding address?’

  ‘Open the damn door, Portia.’

  ‘Please?’ she said.

  ‘I don’t beg, Portia.’

  She shook her head. Well, you asked for that one, Tia. Why can’t you be a bit more delicate, more feminine, more vulnerable? Why does everyone have to dance to your tune, idiot? Who are you? Wolfgang Amadeus bloody Mozart? She opened the door. ‘What can I do for you? If you’re a salesman, we don’t buy at the door. If you’re a gardener looking for work, I already have a man who looks great in shorts. Or are you peddling some strange religion where you stand on the tops of mountains waiting to be saved?’

  ‘Go find the linen for the two beds.’

  She widened the gap to allow him in. ‘Standing well back,’ she declared, hands held aloft. ‘I’ll make you a flash card, Sir, like those I use for word recognition. Yes. Do Not Disturb says it all, what?’

  ‘I knew you’d get on my nerves,’ he answered, standing rock-still facing her. ‘You’re a spoilt rich kid, never deprived, Roedean, Oxford, three-day eventing, hunt balls, debutante occasions—’

  ‘And an eighteen-bedroom house on a huge estate – don’t forget that. It’s falling to bits, but it’s still beautiful. I am anti-hunt, by the way. If a farmer wants to shoot a chicken-killer, fair enough, but a pack of starving dogs tearing a fox to pieces is not my idea of fun. You’re the snob. You’re carrying not a chip but a boulder on your shoulder.’

  He agreed. ‘I have trouble trusting people.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Childhood,’ was his brief reply.

  ‘Tell me.’

  He moved and leaned against a wall in the small hallway. ‘Tia, you’re right, as I suspect you usually are. You know I’m growing fond of you, very fond. Talking about my life in America isn’t easy for me. The loss of my mom devastated me and drove my dad to drink more heavily than ever. The story is bigger than I am, and it cuts me up. I dream it quite often, so don’t try to force anything out of me, please.’

  ‘Sorry.’ And she meant it. His disabled mother had died in an arson attack, and Teddy had never recovered from the shock. Then there were the marks on his back, the stripes of a whip, the slashes made by knives. ‘I just don’t think, and you’re probably right – I’m spoilt, and you can blame my parents.’

  ‘We can all do that, Portia.’

  She shrugged. ‘When I arrived, Ma’s firstborn, she treasured me and heaped love and attention on me. By the time she’d had two more she’d come to her senses, but by then I was Pa’s little rising star. He dragged me all over the place, dance lessons, acting classes, got me to perform at the local church, the school, the inn. We put on plays in the ballroom, and I began to make up the stories before I started real school. That’s pretty normal for any lively child. A person doesn’t need to be the product of two acting dynasties to want to play.’

  Theo inclined his head in a gesture of agreement. He understood her well enough. Children born into relative poverty had attended university, gained good apprenticeships, had even become actors or comedians on radio and television. ‘Few of us follow our parents in the world of work, Tia. My father was an itinerant who went where labourers were needed, and we had to go with him. He planted and gathered crops, herded cattle, learned to tame wild horses. All I wanted was a permanent home rather than one on wheels, so when the war ended here I took the British Higher School Certificate, went to university and even did a semester of teacher training after that. We are both born teachers, and there’s no cure for the condition.’

  ‘Try telling my father that.’

  ‘He wouldn’t listen.’

  ‘How right you are, Teddy.’

  Upstairs at last, she taught him to make hospital corners on sheets and blankets, a skill she had been forced to learn during Juliet’s cadet year. She also reached a decision about herself and her own behaviour, because he was right, she was pushy, spoilt and arrogant. Changing was impossible, so it would have to be a matter of willpower. She needed to calm down, slow down and think of someone other than herself for a change. Above all, she should be careful not to alienate this very special man.

  When the rooms were prepared, he demanded a light supper as payment for his time. ‘Prove you can scramble eggs rather than pans,’ he suggested.

  ‘Certainly. Coffee, tea or cocoa?’

  ‘I’ll let you choose.’

  He sat in the evening light near the front bay window, watched the sun as it prepared to disappear behind a horizon formed by sky and Mersey. Because of the water, Liverpool sunsets had a special, luminous, almost magical quality, even here, away from the river. Theo loved the city. Even now, with a murderer on the loose and Rosie’s mother trying to check out of life, this was his home, his happy place.

  He thanked God for the existence of the Athertons, who had visited Maggie during her one day in hospital. Rosie had been kept away from Sadie and led to believe that Maggie had been having complete rest at home under the supervision of a district nurse. People were good. Well, most people were good.

  Madam was making noise in the kitchen and in his heart. She brought in a mug of cocoa and placed it on a table mat. He took a sip. ‘That’s creamy,’ he said, almost smacking his lips.

  Tia looked at him down her aristocratic nose. ‘A pinch of salt in the milk.’

  ‘You’re kidding.’

  ‘No. Some of us know how to run a kitchen.’ She went away to butter toast, almost dancing because he was pleased with her cocoa.

  ‘Well,’ he mouthed to himself, ‘that’s me put in my place yet again.’ It was a pity there were no clams in the sand here; he could have made her drool over Mom’s clam chowder . . . Ah, here she came again. ‘Yes?’ he asked when he noted her fu
rrowed brow.

  ‘Teddy, you don’t think Maggie hired someone to kill Tunstall, do you?’

  He shook his head slowly. ‘It’s not in her, Tia.’

  ‘How do we know what’s in someone when a beloved granddaughter’s in danger?’

  ‘No,’ he insisted. ‘She wouldn’t be able to live with what she’d done.’

  ‘How can you know that?’

  ‘I just can. Or maybe Tom Quirke knows it.’

  ‘Your alter ego.’

  ‘Owner of this house and every stick of furniture in it. He makes twenty times Theodore Quinn’s paltry salary. There are many good teachers in this country who can’t afford to do the job. You are a rare animal, Tia. Money left to you by grandparents and so on will make up the shortfall. Most with real talent will not come into the profession, and the result might be that only also-rans will apply. The quality will deteriorate, and we’ll get inferior staff who will bring down standards.’ He chuckled. ‘End of lecture, Miss Bellamy.’

  They ate perfect scrambled eggs on golden brown toast, their conversation covering union membership and the possibility of strike action among members of so essential a profession. ‘Would you cross a picket line?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ was her brief reply.

  ‘Why not?’

  Tia frowned. ‘Pa calls me a lefty, but I’m not. If the leaders of our union say we’re out, then we’re out. What about you?’

  ‘The same.’ He put down his knife and fork. ‘Well, Miss Bellamy, thank you for supper. Please note that I use my cutlery correctly, none of that changing hands performed by most colonials – such an untidy way of eating, don’t you think? Me ma brung me up proper, like.’

  ‘Are you taking the piffle again?’

  ‘Definitely. Oh, and wherever you and I are going, nothing can happen until I have the confidence to give you the whole truth, and God alone knows when that will happen. And we may need to work together first.’

  ‘OK.’ She piled used dishes on a tray. ‘No messing about, then.’

  He thought about that for a few beats of time. ‘I suppose a little messing about will be fine as long as it’s here rather than at school.’

  Tia couldn’t help herself. ‘Then let’s mess about in my bed.’ Immediately, she wished she could bite back the words. Hadn’t she already had a conversation with herself about this type of behaviour? She was selfish, manipulative, greedy and . . . and she wanted to get close to this difficult, confused man. She tried to improve matters. ‘I’m falling in love with you,’ she explained, yet again failing to process the thought before allowing it to drop out of her mouth. I have a brain, a good enough brain, yet I seem not to have the sense required to kick it into gear. ‘Sorry,’ she said quietly.

  ‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘I’m in the same predicament.’

  ‘Shall I find somewhere else to live, Teddy?’

  His answer arrived immediately. ‘No. I don’t want you to leave here. You cheer me up, you annoy the hell out of me, and you make me feel alive.’

  Tia sat down suddenly, as her legs felt uncertain. She was in the presence of an unusual creature; this was an honest human who simply had trouble accounting for his past. ‘We’ll wait, then. As long as I know you like me, I’ll be fine. It hasn’t happened to me before, you see. I’m no angel, but this is different.’

  ‘I know.’

  She looked hard at him. He had almost black hair, and plenty of it. It was rather disobedient and slightly wavy. Locks tumbled onto the forehead, stopping above eyes that were a warm, chocolatey brown with laughter lines at the outer corners. His skin was unusual, tanned, but with a scattering of freckles here and there, while the odd glint of red-gold showed in sideburns that needed attention. He had a straight nose, beautiful lips and a cleft in his chin. Ma might want to put him in a film . . . ‘How do you know?’ she whispered.

  ‘Hard to say. It’s a primal kinda thing, isn’t it? Probably born in the id rather than in the ego.’

  ‘Animalistic?’

  ‘Yes, it’s hormonal. The brain can’t get a hold on it.’

  ‘But it’s real?’

  He grinned at her. ‘It’s how all life began, Portia. The first time I saw you at the school door, I had a quiet word with myself. I didn’t want you to go to St Helens or Southport, and was afraid of you coming to Myrtle Street. Confusing? Oh, yes. And you blushed. It’s my guess that you seldom do that.’

  ‘True,’ she said. ‘And for my part, I have to say that those feelings have grown stronger. You?’

  ‘The same. Which is why Maggie and Rosie and your visitors will provide a barrier, and I figure we need that.’ He stood, walked to her chair and perched on its arm. ‘One step at a time, eh? Oh, I forgot to tell you, I’ve bought an ambulance.’

  Her jaw dropped. ‘Why? Are you opening a hospital?’

  ‘Not just yet, no. It’s been converted and it seats up to eight people with room for luggage. We can take out small groups of children once I get insured for that. I can drive it now for personal use—’

  ‘To Kent?’

  ‘Yes.’ He threaded the fingers of his right hand into her hair. ‘Can we take the Athertons, Tom and Nancy? They’ve fed Rosie since God knows when and I don’t know when they last had a holiday. You say there’s an inn?’

  ‘Yes.’ Tia loved having her hair played with, but this time was different. It was an intimate moment with the first man towards whom she felt something approaching honest passion. ‘The Punch Bowl,’ she added, pulling herself together. I’m not a loose woman; there have been only three men, Simon included. But this is shattering. I feel as if I don’t own me any longer. Teddy doesn’t own me, either, but something does. ‘Love is outside us, isn’t it? It’s a bit like invisible shackles.’

  ‘Is this messing about?’ he asked, rubbing his fingers against her scalp.

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice was untypically soft.

  ‘How do you know you’re safe from pregnancy just now?’ The timbre of his speech matched hers.

  ‘A woman knows these things. But I’ve never before been afraid of a relationship, Teddy Bear. What if we want more? What if we can’t stop?’

  ‘Exactly. That’s why we should wait, but it’s not easy, is it? I knew you’d be trouble. When I saw you and heard your voice for the first time, I even considered going back to America.’ He grinned. ‘You’re a rather tall bundle of mischief with so many talents and so much silliness . . .’ His voice faded. ‘We need a period of good, old-fashioned courtship, back row at the movies, drives to the seaside, a day in the country, a week in Kent.’

  ‘My father may be there.’

  ‘Are you afraid of him?’

  ‘No.’ She was one of the few people who didn’t fear the bumbling, bombastic clown who strutted about like the only cockerel in a run filled with hens. That was exactly what he was, she reminded herself. Apart from staff who attended to the grounds occasionally, he was surrounded by females. ‘We all deal with him in our own way. Ma pretends to be drunk, Nanny Reynolds ignores him, as does the cook, Juliet is sweet and kind to him, Delia tells him to piffle off, while I just disobey him.’

  Theo sighed. ‘I’m surrounded by women, too. Tyger and I will soon be the only males in Crompton Villa, and he’ll be useless; he even lost the battle with a geranium.’

  ‘Poor baby,’ she said, the words trimmed with sarcasm.

  ‘Do you mean me or the cat?’ His fingers spread across the back of her head and drew her towards him. ‘I’m just messing about,’ he whispered before kissing her.

  The unexpected contact went through her like electricity, but without the bite of pain. This wasn’t just a man; this was her man, her forever other. When the pressure decreased, she spoke, her lips still on his. ‘You’re amazing,’ she mumbled. ‘It’s as if I remember you from somewhere in another time.’

  ‘I know,’ he replied without moving away. ‘We’re doomed.’

  For some inexplicable reason, both found this statement amusing
. They clung one to the other, chuckling and laughing like a pair of teenagers on their first date, embarrassed yet happy, young yet growing older with each heated heartbeat. ‘I like messing about,’ he managed eventually, ‘but my hand’s kind of knotted in your hair.’

  Tia reached up and pulled pins and clips from her abundant tresses, which had started life earlier in the day in a very tidy French pleat. The mane tumbled from its small metal anchors, and his hand was freed, though he used it now as a comb. ‘Like silk,’ he said. ‘How can such a beautiful, clever girl be interested in me?’

  ‘Very easily.’

  ‘I’m twelve years older than you.’

  ‘I know you’re geriatric, but I don’t care. The elderly are deserving of attention.’

  He laughed again. ‘Careful, or your attention will land you in detention.’

  ‘Any time. So tell me, how long did you study for your School Certificate, Mr Quinn? I’ve been trying to work it out, and you must have moved at the speed of sound when the war ended.’

  ‘I didn’t study. I just took the exams and passed.’

  ‘After living a nomadic life in America and being a rear gunner in the RAF?’

  He shrugged. ‘I went to some schools and I found libraries, too. My memory was photographic for a while.’

  ‘Like Rosie’s?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Degree?’

  ‘First with honours, then a master’s, then a doctorate.’

  ‘In how many years?’

  ‘Four. Are you interviewing me?’

  ‘I am, Dr Quinn. After all, you and your posse grilled me for long enough.’

  ‘That posse is your Board of Governors, Portia.’

  She stroked his face. The man clearly had no idea of his own genius. Tia had been crammed at prep school, force-fed at Roedean, and polished at St Hilda’s College, Oxford, but this man had walked his own walk with no privileges and probably without much money. To achieve so much against all odds would have needed an unusual brain and a massive amount of determination. There was cleverness in his books, too, intelligence, wit and complicated plot. He was a completely self-made man, an admirable example of humanity. What happened to him in America?