The Old House on the Corner (38 page)

‘There’s always something to eat,’ she replied, surprised at how steady her voice was when her insides were in turmoil. ‘What would you like? There’s bacon, sausage, eggs, tomatoes.’

‘The lot with a slice of fried bread.’ He slammed the fridge door shut, so hard it made her jump. Her hands were shaking. How he must hate her! You’d have to hate a person very much to say the things that Frank said to her.

‘Do you think I have no feelings, Frank?’ she asked in the same steady voice.

‘Damn your feelings!’ He pushed his angry, red face into hers. ‘D’you think I give a shit about your feelings? Due to you, my little girl is dead.’ His harsh voice became softer and his face seemed to melt. ‘I dreamed about her last night. It was when she was in that nativity play at playgroup. She was an angel, all in white with silver wings and a halo – I think it was made of tissue paper. In the dream, she started to fly. I reached up to catch her, but she disappeared. It seemed so real when I woke up,’ he whispered. ‘I tried to go back to sleep, just so I could see her again, catch her this time, but I couldn’t.’ He gave her a look that made her feel sick to the stomach. ‘If I were you, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself,’ he said.

‘Oh, Frank,’ she whispered, and wondered if he was actually suggesting she kill herself?

‘You’re always here, reminding me of the precious thing I’ve lost.’ He paused and fixed his burning eyes on hers. ‘I hate you, Rachel. I hate you with all my heart.’

Rachel sighed and bowed her head. ‘I see,’ she said
quietly. It was something she’d just have to live with, but she didn’t know if she’d be able to do it for much longer.

‘Victoria, are you there?’

‘Come in whoever you are,’ Victoria sang. The side door was wide open to let in the fresh air. ‘I’m in the kitchen. Isn’t it another glorious morning?’ she remarked when Marie Jordan entered. ‘Apparently, there’s a heatwave in New York, it’s even hotter than here.’

‘This is the first time I’ve seen you when you haven’t been cleaning or polishing or sorting things out to send to charity,’ Marie said. ‘You look quite lazy for a change.’ Victoria, still in her nightie, was sitting in a little armchair, her feet on a stool, a mug in her hand. It was where Gran had sat during the day, never venturing into the parlour until evening.

‘I
feel
quite lazy,’ she announced. ‘I’m flogging a dead horse washing wallpaper. The dirt’s ingrained. I’ve decided to get the decorators in. When I can get up enough energy, I’ll have a look through the Yellow Pages. No sensible person would want to rent this place the state it’s in.’

‘Oh, I dunno.’ Marie gave the now bare kitchen an affectionate look. ‘That dresser’s probably worth a bit, it looks like pine. This reminds me of the house I grew up in. Mind you, me mam had a new kitchen put in last year. It’s got a split-level cooker, just like mine, but she can’t get used to the rings not being on top of the oven.’

‘Me gran would have been the same,’ Victoria assured her. ‘This is all right to look at, but not to work in. The draining board’s probably crawling with germs invisible to the human eye. Gran used to scrub it with bleach, but I’ve never bothered.’ She nodded at the fat teapot on the table. ‘There’ll still be a cup in there if you want it.’

‘Ta, but I’m on me way to the shops. I only came to say thank you for giving Danny and Patrick the computer. It’s really nice of you. They’re both as pleased as punch.’

Victoria smiled. ‘It’s nice to know it’s going to a good home.’

‘Well, I’ll be off.’ Marie edged towards the door. ‘Enjoy your lazy day. I’ll pop in on me way back, see if you’ve moved.’

‘Only to have poured another cup of tea. Oh, I might be dressed by then, just in case I have any gentlemen callers.’

‘Our Danny’s wetting himself to come, but I told him not till after ten o’clock.’

‘That means I’ve got half an hour.’ Victoria yawned and stretched her arms. ‘This is the life,’ she muttered after Marie had gone. She remembered she must tell Sarah that she’d seen the ferocious Alex prowling around her house very early that morning.

‘Victoria!’ Another shout, a man this time. She would have recognized the voice anywhere.

‘Gareth!’ She ran into the hall. Gareth came in and kicked the door shut behind him.

‘I had to see you before I left for work.’ He took her in his arms and held her tightly.

‘You’re already late, for work that is,’ she said into the collar of his shirt. ‘Oh, but I’m glad you came. I was wondering if I could last out till tonight without seeing you.’

‘I felt the same. The reason I’m late is, I’ve been thinking.’ He pushed her away, put his hands on her shoulders, and looked at her intently. His glasses were crooked on his nose. ‘Victoria, my darling, will you marry me?’

If only she could! If only! ‘Gareth!’ she said wildly. ‘You seem to have forgotten something: you’re already married.’ She started to cry. ‘I’d love to marry you. It’s what I want more than anything in the world. But I can’t. You know I can’t.’

‘Have you never heard of something called divorce?’ He kissed away the tears that were streaming down her cheeks.

‘Of course, but I don’t want to break up your marriage,’ she wept.

‘It was a lousy marriage before I met you. Oh,
God
!’ He pulled her back against him. ‘I can’t imagine life without you. Like I said last night, we were made for each other.’

‘You probably thought you and Debbie were made for each other once,’ she whispered. ‘You’re just going through a bad patch. After I’ve gone, everything will be all right again.’

‘Without you, nothing will be right again. Let’s go upstairs,’ he said urgently. ‘Let’s remind ourselves how much we mean to each other.’

Victoria held out her hand and led the way up to her bedroom.

‘I thought World War Three had started, all that noise.’

‘I’m playing Battleships,’ Ernest explained without looking up.

Anna said, ‘I shall probably be the first woman to divorce her husband citing a computer as the third party.’

‘I’m sorry, luv,’ Ernest said abjectly. He sank another battleship and looked up. ‘Did you want something?’

‘I’d like my husband back for one thing, and I wouldn’t mind my usual mid-morning cup of coffee. I
tried to put the kettle on, but it’s too heavy for me to lift.’

Ernest felt even sorrier. ‘I’m neglecting you, aren’t I?’

‘You most certainly are. I thought the computer was bought for me?’ She looked genuinely upset.

‘It was.’ He got to his feet and went into the kitchen. ‘I’ll show you how to use it later. We can play Battleships together.’

‘That’ll be nice,’ she said in a neutral tone.

Five minutes later, he carried in a tray with two cups of coffee and a plate of assorted biscuits. ‘There’s some ginger creams there, luv, your favourite,’ he announced.

‘You’re not going to get round me with a couple of ginger creams, Ernest Burrows,’ she said in a severe voice. Then she laughed, ‘Wouldn’t it be awful if we broke up over a computer after all those perfect years together?’

‘Don’t talk daft, Anna.’

‘I’m being serious.’

‘You’re being daft. Anyroad, aren’t you forgetting something?’

‘Such as?’

‘The year we nearly got divorced.
That
wasn’t exactly perfect.’

‘Oh, Ernie.’ She looked at him reproachfully. ‘We didn’t nearly get divorced. Oh, I know we discussed it, but we both decided we loved each other far too much to part.’

‘You had an affair with that Italian count.’ It still hurt, thinking about it more than thirty-five years later.

‘So did you with that American woman.’

‘I only did it to get me own back.’

‘I know, darling.’ She sniffed and studied her gold
sandals rather than look at him. ‘I got the seven-year itch.’

‘We’d been married for twenty-one years,’ he pointed out.

‘It came late. Oh, Ernie!’ she cried, visibly upset. ‘Do we really have to talk about it after such a long time?’

‘It was you who brought up the subject of divorce, luv,’ he said stiffly.

‘I’m sorry! I’m really, really sorry. It was horrid of me to mention it.’ She seemed to crumble in front of his eyes. ‘I’m selfish. I expect you to be at my beck and call every minute of every day. I had no right to stop you playing on the computer, resent you enjoying yourself for once.’

He went and put his arms around her. ‘Don’t cry, luv. I’m sorry too.’ He wasn’t quite as sorry as she was. He still got angry when he thought about the Italian count.

After a few silent minutes, she lifted her head and surprised him with a grin. ‘Have you been watching pornography, Ernie?’ Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

‘I’ve been doing no such thing,’ he said appalled.

‘I wouldn’t mind seeing a bit of pornography. If we watched it together, we might get the urge.’

‘To do what?’

She giggled coquettishly. ‘The things we used to do when we were young.’

‘The urge has never left me, Anna. We’ll do them now if you like.’

‘After I’ve eaten these biscuits, taken my tablets, limped into the bedroom and you’ve helped take off my clothes.’

He pretended to look disappointed. ‘I didn’t realize you were only joking.’

‘What’s that poem?’ She closed her eyes and recited: “A man is not old when his teeth decay, a man is not old when his hair goes grey, but a man is nearing his last, long sleep, when his mind makes appointments his body can’t keep.” Change the man to woman and it describes me perfectly, Ernie.’

Ernest didn’t answer and Anna went on. ‘We’ve a visitor coming tonight: Charlie.’

‘Charlie?’ He looked at her, puzzled.

‘Charlie Burtonshaw, your brother. Or, I should say, half-brother.’

‘You’ve rung him!’

‘Well, you asked me to sort it so that’s what I’ve done. You’d have heard me on the phone if you hadn’t been in the middle of a frightful sea battle.’ She made a face at him. ‘He sounds very nice. His Liverpool accent is much stronger than yours. He’s coming tonight, but not bringing his wife, she’s busy with something.’

‘Did you ask about Gaynor?’

‘Yes, she’s married and lives in a place called Ormskirk. He said he’d get in touch with her.’

‘So Gaynor might come too?’

‘There’s always the chance. Could you pour me another cup of coffee, darling? And hand us one of those ginger creams to dip in. They’re much nicer when they’re moist.’

Ernest did what she requested, noticing that his hands were shaking slightly. He was wishing now he’d never mentioned wanting to see Charlie or Gaynor. The gap had been too long. He should have contacted them – and Mam – sooner, like directly after the war was over in 1945, not waited until the next century was more than a year old.

*

Marie re-read the postcard she had written before leaving the house. The heading was, ‘Computer For Sale,’ and she wondered if a hundred pounds was too much to ask? Or it might not be enough. She hadn’t liked asking the boys for their opinion as she felt slightly uneasy about selling theirs when Victoria was giving them a much better one and not expecting a penny for it.

‘I’d have given it away, willingly,’ she piously told herself, ‘but there’s no one to give it to. Sarah’s children are too young, and Ernie and Anna would have been welcome to it if they hadn’t bought a new one themselves only the day before. It’s too good to give to charity.’ Although Liam gave her plenty of money, another hundred pounds would always come in useful.

There’d been cards advertising things for sale in the shop in Allerton Road where Sarah had bought the chocolate the day before: O’Connor’s it was called. Her lips curved in a smile when she thought about Sarah. Fancy having a nanny bring up your kids! Still, Sarah had been rather brutally thrust into the real world and was coping well.

I’m glad we left London and came to Liverpool, she thought. In London, they’d lived in what she could only describe as an old converted warehouse where everyone had been dead posh. Wish them ‘good morning’ or ‘good afternoon’ in the lift or going in and out, and they’d look at you as if you’d asked to borrow money or had pleaded to become their best friend. Their lips had difficulty forming a reply. Victoria Square was a very different kettle of fish, everyone knowing the neighbours, just like in Ireland, north as well as south. There were a few she hadn’t met yet, like Gareth Moran’s wife and Kathleen Cartwright’s husband, but she’d see them at the barbecue on Saturday, which reminded her she
must get a bottle of wine to take and ask Rachel if she wanted help with the food.

She arrived at O’Connor’s and scanned the cards in the window in case there were other computers for sale and she could compare prices. There were plenty of three-piece suites, a garden shed going for free to someone willing to dismantle it, a couple of prams, loads of bikes, a few cars, and people offering their services as a window cleaner or plumber, but no computers. She looked the narrow shop up and down and went in. Inside was like an Aladdin’s cave: the small counter spread with newspapers at one end and a rack of chocolate bars at the other. There wasn’t a single inch of wall that wasn’t covered with something or other: jars of loose sweets, cigarettes and tobacco, magazines, birthday cards, bubble-wrapped toys, cheap videos. A pleasant, grey-haired woman of about sixty with an Irish accent was serving a small boy with a quarter of Everton mints. She then attended to a man who wanted to pay his paper bill and put up a fierce argument when informed how much it was. He paid up eventually and left the shop, grumbling under his breath.

‘They don’t realize how quickly time passes,’ the woman said to Marie. ‘With papers the price they are now – some of the Sundays cost well over a pound – in no time at all, they can owe as much as twenty. What can I do for you, luv?’

‘I’d like this card put in the window, please.’

‘How long for? It’s fifty pence a week, one-fifty for a month.’

‘A week’ll do.’ If the computer hadn’t gone by then, she’d leave it for another week, perhaps reduce it to seventy-five pounds.

As she was handing over the fifty pence the woman
said, ‘Don’t I know you from somewhere?’ Her face broke into a smile of recognition. ‘You’re Marie Brennan, aren’t you, our Rita’s friend? You married me brother Enda’s best mate at Harland & Wolff. What was his name now – Mickey Harrison. Oh!’ The smile vanished. ‘Mickey was killed, wasn’t he? God rest his soul.’ She made a quick Sign of the Cross. ‘Enda said you’d gone back to Donegal to live with your mammy.’