The Old House on the Corner (53 page)

At precisely ten o’clock, a horn sounded signalling the taxi had arrived. She picked up the suitcases, strung her bag over her shoulder, and went outside, leaving the key on the kitchen table for Gareth – she’d given him the spare the night before. She wondered how long she would be gone before he would come to show Debbie around?

She felt tears come to her eyes when she saw that nearly everyone in the square had come to see her off. They stood in line, smiling beneath their colourful umbrellas: like a row of flowers of all different sizes.

‘Goodbye, Victoria, love.’ Anna was in her wheelchair. She reached for Victoria’s hand and held it as hard as she could, as if she never wanted to let her go. ‘You’ll always have a special place in my heart.’

‘Bye, luv,’ Ernie said gruffly. ‘Here, let me put them suitcases in the taxi for you.’

‘I hope you have a marvellous time in New York,’ Sarah said warmly. ‘Wave bye-bye, Alastair, and you too, Jack.’

‘Bye, Victoria,’ Tiffany sniffed wretchedly and threw her arms around Victoria’s waist. ‘Thank you for the hat and things. Can I come and see you in America and bring Oliver?’

‘If Mummy will let you, darling.’

‘Enjoy yourself, Victoria. I hope the job turns out all right.’ Marie Jordan kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Did the boys tell you we’re moving too?’

‘Yes. Donegal sounds lovely. I hope you’ll be happy there. Good luck, Danny.’ She kissed Danny on the cheek and shook hands with Patrick. ‘Good luck.’

‘You’ll probably think me an idiot when we only met last night, but I didn’t want to be left out.’ Judy Moon smiled and gave her a kiss. ‘Look after yourself, dear.’

‘I’ve brought you a little present,’ Rachel said, ‘a gold St Christopher medal to wear around your neck. Shall I put it on for you?’

‘Please.’ Two St Christopher medals! Now she would be doubly safe. ‘Thank you, Rachel. It was a wonderful barbecue last night. I couldn’t have had a nicer send-off.’ She lowered her voice. ‘How are things in your house?’

‘Grim,’ Rachel said grimly.

Victoria was beginning to feel like a general inspecting her troops, sheltering briefly underneath each umbrella. The next person in line was Kathleen. ‘Has Steve rung?’ she asked in a whisper.

‘No.’ Kathleen made a valiant attempt to smile. ‘But I’m sure he will eventually. Have a great time, love. Write to us, won’t you? We’d like to know how you’re getting on over there.’

‘Farewell, sweet maiden,’ Gareth said in a deep, Shakespearean voice. ‘May flights of angels sing thee to thy bed of rest – in the city of New York.’ Everyone clapped and he grinned. ‘Did I ever tell you I was once in amateur dramatics?’

Victoria laughed and shook her head. It was just one of the things there hadn’t been time to get to know about him.

‘I’ve brought Tabitha to say goodbye.’ He reached inside his jacket for the sleepy-eyed kitten and Victoria kissed the soft tortoiseshell head.

‘You’re going to miss your flight if you don’t get a move on, missus,’ the taxi driver shouted.

‘Coming.’ She formally shook Gareth’s hand. ‘Goodbye.’

‘Au revoir, Victoria.’

‘Goodbye, everyone.’ She ran to the taxi, paused, and threw kisses to them all. ‘You never know, I might be
back one day soon.’ It was strange, but when she looked at the house, she had the strongest feeling she would never see it again.

Ernest closed the taxi door, returned to Anna, and began to push the wheelchair towards their house.

‘Let’s put a video on as soon as we get in,’ Anna said, sniffing loudly. ‘Something cheerful that’ll make us laugh. I feel terribly sad at seeing Victoria go.’

‘Anything you like, luv,’ Ernest said easily. Perhaps a sherry and a whisky wouldn’t come amiss at the same time. He’d put water in the sherry and hope Anna wouldn’t notice.

The Jordan boys rushed indoors to play with the new computer, already plugged in and ready to go, despite Ma insisting they should get on with the packing and take the old machine next door where Tiffany was probably on edge waiting for it to arrive. ‘In a minute, Ma …’

When Kathleen entered the house, the phone was ringing. ‘Steve!’ she breathed when she picked it up and heard his dear, familiar voice. Jean had been on the critical list, he said, but was feeling much better this morning. He might come back later that day because he desperately wanted to see her. ‘But it’ll only be for a few hours, Kath,’ he said warily.

‘That’s all right, darling. I desperately want to see you too.’

‘You must come round at tea time and meet my sister,’ Sarah said to Marie. ‘Oh, we must write to each other. I could bring the children to Donegal some time. Tiffany’s broken-hearted, what with losing Victoria one day and Danny the next.’

Rachel marched stiffly towards Three Farthings. Frank was pleading with her to forgive him, but she wasn’t sure
if she could. There were some things that were beyond forgiveness – Frank had obviously thought so because he’d never forgiven her.

When Victoria looked out of the rear window of the taxi, only Gareth was left. They waved and waved until the taxi turned the corner and they couldn’t see each other any more.

Gareth walked disconsolately back to his showpiece house, Tabitha tucked inside his jacket. ‘She’s gone, Tabs. What am I going to do without her, eh?’

When he went inside, Debbie looked at him strangely. She’d been unusually quiet that morning. His mum had stayed the night and had gone to Mass at the cathedral. ‘Would you like some tea?’ Debbie asked.

‘No, thanks.’ He was on his way upstairs when he changed his mind. Debbie was trying to mend fences: hadn’t she agreed to live in Victoria’s house? Perhaps he should do the same. He returned to the kitchen. ‘On reflection, I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea,’ he said gruffly.

Now every door in Victoria Square was closed tight against the rain that continued to pour relentlessly down.

Judy Moon looked out of the window and shivered. The place looked like a graveyard, no sign of life anywhere. It was a relief when a lamp went on in Clematis Cottage where the old couple lived – Anna and Ernie. She’d soon get the hang of everyone’s names. She went round the house, switching on lights in every room: an extravagance, but it was that sort of day.

It had been dull and deathly miserable all day and the sky was already growing darker as it prepared for night. The roofs of the houses in Victoria Square glistened with frost and the frozen grass was a blanket of white that crunched agreeably when walked on. Christmas trees twinkled cheerily in every window and more lights adorned the little willow tree in the centre of the grass, the sort that changed colour: white, pink, red, blue, purple, green, then white again. Quite a few hours had been wasted by people staring through their windows at this hypnotic sight when they should have been doing something more important. Tiffany had christened it ‘Victoria’s tree’, no one knew why, but the name had stuck and the willow would remain Victoria’s tree forevermore. Despite the dreariness of the day, the square was a welcoming place.

The only sounds were coming from Clematis Cottage where the Burrows were having a party: three till six. Anna said she would have preferred one in the evening and wouldn’t have minded had it gone on all night, but Ernest told her not to be so foolish.

‘You’re an old woman,’ he reminded her, knowing how exhausted she would be after just three hours, let alone a party that went on into the early morning. Trouble was she liked to pretend she was eighteen, not eighty-two.

‘There’s no need to remind me that I’m old,’ she said tartly. ‘It doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy myself.’

‘You’ll just have to enjoy yourself in the afternoon,’ he told her firmly.

‘We’ll play some of our old records to put people in the mood – and let’s buy loads more decorations, darling. I
love
buying Christmas decorations.’

They already had enough to decorate Buckingham Palace but, if it made her happy, they’d get more – it was him who’d have to put them up and he didn’t mind a bit.

‘I wish Victoria were coming to our party, Ernie.’

‘So do I, luv, but it’s not to be.’

Everyone had said they’d come apart from the middle-aged couple in number two, the Jordans’ old house. No one could decide whether the Forresters were anti-social, stuck up, or just plain shy, but they’d hardly spoken to a soul since they’d moved into the square in August, despite all attempts by the present residents to be friendly. Now, the only guests still to come were Sarah Rees-James and her children …

Really, Sarah thought impatiently, getting three small children ready to go out took longer than preparing an expedition to the top of Everest.

‘Mummy,’ Tiffany said in an outraged voice when they were at last ready to leave, ‘you haven’t put the television on for Eric and Jason.’

‘Darling, cats and dogs don’t watch television,’ Sarah protested for the umpteenth time, nevertheless turning the set on – anything to shut Tiffany up.

‘Eric
loves
football. He sits on top and tries to hit the ball with his paw. Not
EastEnders
, Mummy,’ Tiffany snorted. ‘You know the music makes Jason howl.’ Jason
was an incredibly curly puppy of unknown origin and Eric a smooth, white-haired kitten. They were both eight months old. It had proved terribly embarrassing, months ago, when the real Jason had turned up out of the blue and discovered a dog had been named after him. It had been even more embarrassing to have to tell him, with the utmost tact, that Sarah was no longer interested. She’d hardly thought about him since she’d left Alex. One of these days she might start thinking about boyfriends again. Right now, her children occupied every minute of her time.

She obediently changed the channel. ‘All right, darling. Have you got the handbag that Anna bought you for Christmas? She’ll be so pleased if she sees you using it.’

Tiffany picked up the blue leather bag and gave it a look of disdain. ‘It’s only a little girl’s handbag.’

‘You’re only a little girl, Tiff. Put it over your shoulder this minute. Jack, let me zip up your anorak, it’s below freezing out there.’ She fastened Jack’s anorak and picked up Alastair, who let out a roar of protest. ‘You’re not walking, darling, absolutely not. I know you like showing off, but you’ll only slip on the ice and break your little legs or something. Is everyone ready?’ Three young faces looked at her blankly. Sarah took this for agreement and said, ‘Come on then, let’s go.’

A beaming Ernest opened the door of Clematis Cottage. ‘Sorry we’re late.’ Sarah pushed Tiffany and Jack inside out of the cold and set Alastair on the floor. He immediately staggered into the parlour to be met by a scream of welcome from Anna. ‘I’ve brought some mince pies. I made them myself,’ she said proudly. ‘I’ve discovered I’m frightfully good at making pastry and it’s such fun rolling it out.’ She didn’t wish him Merry
Christmas as she’d brought the children round the morning before to show him and Anna their presents.

‘Take yourself into the parlour, luv, that’s where most people are. What would you and the kids like to drink? Here, let me take your coats.’

‘White wine for me: orange juice or something for the children. Oh, but do let me see to things, Ernie. I’m sure you must have loads to do. Is someone helping in the kitchen?’

‘Rachel and Judy are out there. Me, I’m taking it easy while trying to keep an eye on Anna. She’s already had too much wine and the party’s hardly started.’

‘I’ll keep an eye on her too.’ Anna’s predilection for wine was well known throughout the square and sternly discouraged.

Kathleen was standing in the corner of the heavily garlanded, over-decorated room half listening to Fred Astaire singing ‘They Can’t Take That Away From Me’ and, yet again, Anna tell about the film she’d once made. She wondered how many times poor Ernie had heard it. Today, she was telling the story to the young American couple who’d taken over Hamilton Lodge for a year.

‘Y’don’t say,’ Pete Scheider drawled when Anna finished with a great deal of rolling of eyes and waving of hands. ‘You’ve certainly led an adventurous life, ma’am.’ He was terribly polite and called all the women ‘ma’am’, apart from his wife, Hetty, whom he addressed as ‘honey’.

Hetty said, ‘People in Liverpool are so-
oh
interesting!’

‘Aren’t we?’ Anna preened herself, although she’d been born in Hungary and had only lived in Liverpool a small fraction of her long life.

Kathleen sighed and wished Victoria was there – she
wasn’t the only one. Sarah and Rachel had just wished the same. Only Victoria had known how upset she’d been when Steve had gone rushing off to Huddersfield because his wife had had a heart attack. She would have loved to tell Victoria how well everything had turned out. Jean had recovered, for one thing. Having come so near to death, she’d left the hospital with a far more philosophical attitude to life than when she’d gone in, apparently resigned to the fact that Steve had found someone else. So resigned that she’d actually agreed to a divorce and had sent them a card at Christmas!

A few weeks before, Annie, Steve’s youngest daughter, had telephoned and she and Kathleen had had quite a pleasant chat.

‘I thought you couldn’t possibly be quite as bad as our Brenda made out when you let Dad come all the way to see Mam in hospital,’ Annie had said. Kathleen wondered if she would still have rung had she known how deeply she’d resented it. ‘There’s some women who wouldn’t have stood for it. Mam
can
be a pain. It’s not all that surprising that our dad did a bunk.’

Then Maggie had written a nice, friendly letter, and Sheila had sent a Christmas card. There were suggestions from both sides that they all meet up at some time in the future. So far, there’d been no word from Brenda, but she might come round one day. All Kathleen could do was wait and see.

She sighed again, blissfully this time. Steve had got a job as a porter at the hospital where she worked so their hours were more compatible. They still had the occasional flaming row – she was beginning to wonder if they enjoyed them.

Steve came up. ‘You look like the cat that ate the cream.’