‘Maybe not the kind of adventure you want!’ I laughed. ‘It’s a nice day, for a change. How about we walk to Marton and get a feel for the place? Are you up for that?’
‘Yes, let’s do it. We’ll walk and talk. Can you track the church on your smart phone? It’ll guide us there if we can get a decent signal. We should be okay in a place like Blackpool.’
Sure enough, thanks to the miracle that is modern technology, I was able to tap in the postcode of the church where the memorial service had been held and get step-by-step walking instructions to our destination.
We walked along the promenade, looking out towards the horizon and enjoying the sea breeze. We passed the fun park. We could hear the screams of excited youngsters as they worked their way through the plethora of terrifying rides that were on offer.
A couple of family groups had spotted Alex and were taking selfies, trying hard not to get noticed. One old chap came up with a traditional camera and asked politely if Alex would pose with him and his wife for a photo.
She launched immediately into showbiz mode, asking their names, finding out all about them, making them feel as if they were the most important people in the world. I was the guy appointed to take the photograph.
Once the selfie-takers realised that Alex didn’t bite, they all stepped up, and I spent the next ten minutes taking pictures on smart phones. Finally we managed to dispatch the crowd and Alex took out her new sunglasses and placed them on her face.
‘Better keep a low profile,’ she said. ‘We’ll never get anything done if we keep getting stopped for impromptu photo shoots. Did you know I have my own hashtag now, by the way? #AlexKCrime. How cool is that?’
‘Doesn’t it ever get you down? Don’t you wish that you could walk down the street without any of that nonsense? It must get a bit wearing.’
‘To be honest with you, yes, I do get tired of it. I am tired of it. Do you want the truth, Pete? I haven’t been completely straight with you.’
‘Oh yes? What is it?’ I asked, intrigued about what she was going to say.
‘I’ve left Crime Beaters. That was my last show. It’s not been announced yet, we agreed to wait until they find a replacement.’
‘What will you do? Have you got something lined up?’
‘Nope! Nothing. It all happened very quickly. The next series hadn’t been formally commissioned so there was a narrow window in which to change it all around. I may live to regret it!’
‘That’s a brave move, Alex. What made you do it?’
‘I want some peace again. I’m fed up with all the relationship speculation and the body-shaming trolls. I mean, I’m still quite hot for thirty-nine, aren’t I? I don’t know, I want something more. I thought that TV jobs were what I wanted. I love the work, but there’s something missing in my life.’
I hadn’t expected that. Not from Alex. I’d never really stopped to consider if she was happy or not. I’d assumed that because there was a perpetual smile on her face everything was okay.
‘I think you’re brave. I should have done the same after Meg left, shaken everything up a bit. But I was too scared. I couldn’t face cutting off my salary. And as things turned out with the house, I did the right thing. How long until you have to find a job?’
‘I have plenty in the bank, Pete. It won’t be a problem for a while. The mortgage on my flat is paid off and it’s gone up in value a lot since I bought it. I reckon I can survive for a year at a push. I’d have to start thinking about renting out a room after that, or moving to somewhere smaller.’
‘Won’t they forget about you if you’re off the screens for a while? Or doesn’t it work like that?’
‘Well, I have a few things coming up that are pre-recorded: Celebrities in the Stew, Starstruck Celebrity Audience, and Celebrity Fast Food Takeout, you know the sort of thing. I’m good for maybe five or six months. The TV listings mags will have my mugshot in them for a while yet. Hopefully I’ll get something lined up before everything finishes screening. My agent doesn’t even know yet. She’s going to be really annoyed. Crime Beaters has taken care of everything for a long time now, she’s barely had to move her arse to get her ten percent cut.’
‘I can’t blame you. It must get very tiring all this celebrity stuff. What are your plans?’
‘I’m going travelling for a bit, I think. Remember where we used to go in Spain? I’ve booked a place there for a month, and I’ll figure it out from there. It has lots of happy memories. It seems like a good place to start.’
‘Wow! Lucky you! Sounds fabulous to me, I’d love to take off and leave all of this behind.’
‘You know, you’re welcome to come, Pete. As a friend. I’d love to have you out there. You could do with a break too. It would be lovely to spend some time out there again. Together.’
I’d been thinking a lot about the job that Ellie had mentioned, in between watching my back for nutters and finding dead bodies. I needed a change, I had to move things on. In the back of my mind, I’d also resolved to force the issue with Meg. I might be the father of a child, she owed me that much, to tell me the truth.
‘You know I’d love to, Alex, but I have to sort out my issues with Meg. If the child is mine, if she decides she wants to work at the relationship again, I have to give it a try.’
I could see the disappointment on her face, even through the sunglasses.
‘It’s fine, Pete. Of course it is. I thought it would be a nice thing to do. No pressure, I know you’ve got your own life to sort out. But if I can help in any way, and I mean with money too, you only have to say the word. You know what you mean to me, Pete. You’re my best friend. You’ve always been my best friend.’
We’d arrived at the church and I was grateful for the chance to change the topic. It had been a long walk, a little short of an hour, further than it looked on the smart phone map. I’d screen-grabbed the web article on my phone. I checked once more to be certain that this was the right place. It was.
It wasn’t that what Alex was proposing scared me or offended me in any way. It had been remarkable how quickly we’d picked up as seamlessly as we’d left off. It was always so easy with Alex, we were like the old married couple who never married.
But I was married to Meg. We’d spent years together, most of them very happy. If I hadn’t been so stupid, maybe we’d still be happy, and with a baby on the way, or possibly even born by now.
I’d begun to resent Meg more and more since the deaths. I wasn’t even sure if we would be able to rescue our marriage. Not after what she’d told me about the murders, how she’d let Sally take the blame for Tony. But if I was the father of her child, we’d have to work something out.
I couldn’t think about Alex yet, much as the thought of getting out of the country for a month really tempted me. Maybe I could negotiate a delayed start on the London job, quit my own job, take a break in between?
‘This is it,’ I said, taking in the building. It was one of those churches that’s tucked along a regular street, rather than set on its own, surrounded by a graveyard. The front door was open and the car park almost completely empty.
Alex removed her sunglasses and we stepped inside.
‘Hello,’ I said, not really sure who my greeting was aimed at. There were three old ladies removing flowers from vases, ready to replace them with the splendid arrays which were adorning the pews. It took them a moment to tune into my voice, they were so engaged with what they were doing and immersed in their own chatter.
‘Hi, my name is Peter Bailey, my friend is Alex Kennedy.’
I paused, waiting to see if they recognised her. There was no glimpse of it, so I carried on.
‘We’re looking for a family who live – or lived – in the Marton area. I’ve got two possible names, either Yates or Irvine. Do you know them, or have you heard of them?’
‘Of course we have, young man,’ one of the ladies began. ‘They used to attend this church. Their house was down the road, five minutes’ walk awa
y. But you heard what happened, didn’t you? You must know about the fire.’
The ladies at Scott Road Methodist Church were delightful hosts. They were Deirdre, Janet and Cathy, but I’m not sure which was which because they all talked so fast that I missed out on the introductions. However, by using one name at a time, somebody would always answer, so it didn’t seem to matter too much.
They marked us out as a nice young couple and treated us to tea and biscuits as they obligingly answered our questions, albeit in a circuitous and anecdotal manner.
‘So, what happened to the Yates family?’ I asked, nibbling on my fourth chocolate cookie. The six-pack stomach would have to wait another day.
‘It was a terrible business,’ said the woman I thought was Cathy, but who may well have been Janet. ‘It was a house fire, my darling. It destroyed the entire property. It brought everybody out from the surrounding streets. We were all there, weren’t we ladies? It was a terrible affair.’
‘Those poor girls,’ Deirdre joined in, although it may have been Janet. I needed to work out which one was Janet, and then I’d have it figured out.
‘Losing their parents like that. It was a terrible thing to happen. They were such sweet things too.’
‘How long did the Yates family live in this area?’ Alex asked. ‘Were they here all of their married lives?’
‘Yes, my dear, I remember them moving into the street on the day they married. Thomas Yates had bought that small terrace as a surprise for Mavis. He was a caretaker in the local council building. It’s closed down now. Mavis was my best friend in those days, you know. I’d only recently married my Ted, we were newlyweds too, and it didn’t take us long to make friends. There weren’t as many cars on the streets in those days, you could stand in the street and chat all morning.’
‘Did they have children?’ Alex continued to steer her and keep the conversation on course. She was gentler than I was, I tended to forget sometimes that I wasn’t grilling some politician in a live radio interview.
‘Well, my dear, after Thomas and Mavis moved into the street, a lot of us began having babies. Mavis was desperate to have children too, but it didn’t happen. I felt terrible for her, the poor dear. I’d had my Henry, Janet had her Davina not long after, and poor old Mavis was left all on her own.’
The woman whom I was almost certain was called Deirdre brought us into a huddle to share a secret. I’m not sure who was supposed to be listening in, there were only the five of us in that church, but we played ball. We’d hit the jackpot with these wonderful old ladies.
‘I think she had problems down there,’ she whispered, conspiratorially.
‘We didn’t talk about things openly like you do these days. It’s all cocks and pussies now. I know, I’ve got the internet at home.’
Alex and I didn’t know where to look. I spluttered on my tea, spitting it out onto the floor and had to apologise.
‘Don’t worry, my dear. We may look old, but we were young once, you know. I think she had a problem in her tubes, she never told us what it was. She might not have known herself. She became very quiet after the street began to fill up with children.’
The woman who was probably Cathy chimed in. I hoped that she wasn’t as foul-mouthed as Deirdre. Alex looked as if she was about to wet herself as she tried to contain her laughter. It was a good job she’d bought a five pack of knickers, she might be needing another pair by the time we’d finished with these ladies.
‘She told me once, it was a long time ago. She said, “Cathy, I’ve got a problem with my fallopian tubes. I can’t have children. I’m never going to have children.” She had a quiet cry. We didn’t make a fuss in those days, we kept it all bottled up. There were none of those psychologists to talk to about your problems, like you have nowadays. We had to get on with it.’
At least I knew that she was Cathy now. I was getting there, slowly but surely. From out of nowhere Janet came up with some gold dust.
‘When they adopted those two girls, it changed her life. They were her pride and joy, she suddenly got her old joie de vivre back again. It was lovely to see. I think she felt like she was one of us again.’
‘Can you remember their names?’ I asked.
‘One of them was Hannah, she was older,’ Cathy said. ‘She was a lovely thing, so kind and gentle. She used to wear a yellow dress with bright flower patterns all over it. She wore that dress until it was falling off her shoulders, she loved it.’
‘The younger child could be a minx, she was more mischievous than Hannah. She was called Megan. She used to like playing with the boys. Always getting into trouble, she was. But Mavis loved them both, they were her pride and joy, they made her life complete.’
‘Were they sisters?’ I asked. ‘I mean, were they birth siblings, or had they come from different families?’
‘No, they weren’t related by blood. They were adoptive sisters, my love,’ Janet chimed in. ‘They had quite a job adopting them both, but Mavis was adamant she wanted two children so she wouldn’t have an only child. It happened so quickly too. One minute they were on the waiting list, the next they had two lovely teenage daughters. They gave her the run-around, but she got what she wanted in the end.’
Alex had composed herself once again.
‘What happened with the fire?’ she asked, anxious to reclaim her place in the conversation.
‘It was such a terrible thing,’ Deirdre began to explain. The women bowed their heads for a moment like an over-seventies version of a Mexican wave. We had to remember that these women went way back, we were dealing with difficult memories for them.
‘I can still remember the screams from the house,’ said Cathy. ‘It makes me shudder to this day. The heat from the flames was fierce, it was so hot. How those girls got out, I’ll never know.’
‘They were standing there, out in the street, while their parents burned in the top bedrooms. We never knew how they escaped, but it was a blessing and a miracle.’
Janet was quite overcome describing the events. Alex placed her arm on her shoulder. These ladies were built of remarkable stuff. They must have carried these memories with them through their lives. We’d hit a nerve now, we would need to tread carefully.
‘I saw Mavis at the window. She was desperately trying to shout to me, but the window wouldn’t open. They were made out of wood in those days, they were always swelling in the wintertime, the darn things would get completely stuck. All I could see was her mouthing to me, pointing to the children.’
‘What about Thomas?’ I asked. ‘Did he die with Mavis?’
It was Deirdre’s turn to take up the story.
‘He died in the house,’ said Cathy, ‘but Mavis didn’t die, she got out. She was burned terribly. He was in a separate room, trapped in one of the children’s bedrooms. They didn’t know what had happened.’
She lowered her voice again.
‘They think that Thomas and Mavis were having a fight and perhaps she shut him in one of the bedrooms to calm him down. The fire must have broken out and left them both trapped upstairs. Those poor girls, at least they managed to escape. Poor Megan and Hannah, I still remember them standing in the street watching the house burn. Meggy was so shocked, she couldn’t even cry. She just stood there watching.’
There were a few moments of silence. All three women had been there that night, we’d brought back the ghosts of the past.
‘What happened to the children afterwards?’ Alex asked. Ever the journalist, she was making a clean sweep with the questions, making sure we got everything that we came for.
‘That was sad too,’ said Janet. ‘Those poor girls. They didn’t have any other family left. Both Thomas and Mavis’s parents had died young, and neither had brothers or sisters. Mavis was in a nursing home after the fire, she was in a terrible state ... or so we heard. She needed special care and lots of operations. They took her down south somewhere, we never really knew where she ended up. There was no internet then, my dear, things weren
’t so easy to find out in those days. The girls went back into care for a short time until Hannah was old enough to look after them, but I don’t know what happened after that. Those poor girls, what they went through.’
‘It was a terrible business,’ Deirdre said. ‘We never saw the girls again. They used to be the life and soul of the street, but we never saw them after the funeral. I can still remember them there, in their black dresses and shoes. Poor Megan still couldn’t find the tears to cry. It must have been so overwhelming for them.’
I decided that we had found out everything we could and started to make a move.
‘I can’t thank you enough for all of the help that you’ve given us today, ladies. You’ve been so kind making time for us and looking after us so well.’
This had been an excellent idea. We couldn’t have had more luck. At last I knew that Meg had not told me the truth while we were married. She’d constructed a lie around her life as a child and a teenager. She’d fabricated a past. Had it been too painful for her to discuss? Had she airbrushed all those terrible things from her life story? I couldn’t blame her if she had. Maybe she’d reinvented herself as an adult, it might have saved her the pain of retelling that story over and over again. It was even possible that Meg’s mother was still alive, although it did sound unlikely from what our informants were telling us. She sounded like she’d been in a bad way.
We thanked the women once again and started to make our way out of the church. As we were walking away, Cathy touched my arm and leant in to say something to me.
‘That’s that Alex Kennedy from the TV isn’t it? We recognised her straight away, but we didn’t want to be rude. We knew she was in town today. I saw it on my feed while I was posting on Twitter!’
The great thing about Blackpool is that you’re never far away from a café. We found a small one across the road, in a side street, and stopped off for a drink and a chat about what had happened in the church. It felt good to be laughing my head off again and, for a moment, I forgot about Meg, JD, the murders and all of the other troubles in my life.
Don't Tell Meg Trilogy Box Set Page 38