The Old House on the Corner (51 page)

‘You still haven’t changed.’

‘Excuse me.’ Anna coughed loudly, ‘Are you intent on starting an affair right under my nose, Ernie, or are you going to introduce me to this lovely lady and claim it’s all quite innocent?’

‘This is Gaynor, luv, Gaynor, me sister. She’s come to see us.’ Ernest could hardly speak, he felt so choked. ‘This is me wife, Anna.’

‘How do you do, Anna?’ The two women shook hands.

‘Pardon me for not getting up, Gaynor, but I’ve had
two glasses of wine and feel quite tipsy. I’m not supposed to drink, you see, so I’m not used to it.’

‘Take no notice,’ Ernest growled. ‘She drinks all the time. Can I get
you
a drink, luv? There’s white and red wine and beer. Come on over, there’s food there an’ all and you can take your pick. Charlie said you didn’t want to see me,’ he remarked when they reached the table and he handed his sister a paper plate.

‘Our Charlie’s a prick,’ Gaynor said bluntly, picking up two sausage rolls. ‘His wife, Evelyn, has led him a miserable life, and their Ronnie’s done time for burglary. Tessa, his daughter, is a nice girl, but she’s in throes of getting divorced for the second time. Poor Charlie, eh?’ Gaynor shrugged. ‘He’s more to be pitied than loathed. He’s jealous of me – I’ve had a great life, Ernie, two wonderful husbands and a marvellous son – and now he’s jealous of you. He told me he gave you a good ticking off.’ She looked at him keenly. ‘I hope he didn’t upset you.’

‘A bit,’ Ernest acknowledged, although it had been rather more than that. ‘It was about Mam, mainly. He said she died of a broken heart and it was me that broke it.’

‘What nonsense!’ Gaynor gave her attractive laugh. ‘Mam died in her sleep at eighty. Oh, she worried about you at first, wondered where you were, why you hadn’t come home, but she got over it in time. Why didn’t you come home, Ernie?’ she asked curiously.

‘I was too taken up with Anna,’ he confessed. ‘We met during the war and I couldn’t wait to get back to Cairo where she lived. Bootle, me family, didn’t seem important any more. I know I should’ve written, luv, and I can’t really explain why not.’

‘Never mind, Ernie, it’s all in the past. As Mam used
to say, “It’s no good crying over spilt milk.” Look, d’you think we should get back to Anna? She’ll be feeling lonely on her own.’

‘Anna will never feel lonely while there’s another human being left on the planet. No, I want to introduce you to everyone, show me little sister off to the neighbours. See that lady over there,’ he pointed to Rachel, ‘she’s the one who organized the barbecue. ‘Rachel,’ he called. ‘I’d like you to meet me sister, Gaynor. This is the first time we’ve seen each other in sixty years …’

The sun had sunk lower and the grass looked greener where the shadows had spread. No one noticed the black cloud that was creeping into the sky from behind Victoria’s house. The wine had almost gone, the food eaten. The charcoal in the barbecue was cold now, and Frank Williams, his labour no longer required, was sprawled on the grass beside Sarah Rees-James, carrying on a trite conversation while he stared at her breasts and drank his tenth can of beer – not that he’d counted.

Patrick, ignoring the advice given by Liam a whole week ago that he not play anything Irish, was doing just that. ‘There was a wild colonial boy,’ he crooned in a pleasant baritone voice, spurred on by the copious amount of wine he’d drunk of which his mother was totally unaware. Tiffany was dancing around the willow tree with Tabitha, the kitten held tenderly in her arms. Jack and Alastair were asleep. Judy Moon, who’d only meant to come for an hour, was still there, talking animatedly to Anna, who was in the course of telling her about the film she’d made. Judy had just explained where her Christian name had come from: ‘Mum and Dad were
at the pictures watching
The Wizard of Oz
, when Mum had her first contraction …’

‘Have you enjoyed yourself, Gareth?’ Debbie asked in a subdued voice.

‘Yes,’ Gareth said shortly. ‘Yes, it’s been great,’ he added in a friendlier tone.

‘I’m sorry I was so impatient with your mum. And we’ll move to Victoria’s house if that’s what you want.’

‘Will you?’ This was a turn-up for the books. He wondered what on earth had happened to make her change her mind? Earlier, he’d meant it when he’d threatened to move out but, on reflection, it just wasn’t on. Somehow, he and Debbie would have to learn to live together without fighting all the time. ‘Before we move, I’ll decorate the place from top to bottom,’ he promised. ‘We could get the paint and stuff tomorrow. Would you like to have a look around now? Victoria won’t mind.’ He looked at Victoria, who was looking at him while she spoke to his mother.

‘No, I’d sooner wait till she’s gone. I don’t care what it’s like as long as I’m with you. And I’ll cancel the holiday in Barbados, tell them I’m pregnant and not allowed to fly.’

‘Leave it,’ he said impulsively. It would be the last extravagance for a long while. Their marriage needed mending and perhaps the repair could be done in Barbados.

Patrick finished ‘The Wild Colonial Boy’, and Rachel tapped a bottle with a spoon in order to grab everyone’s attention.

‘Two things,’ she said in a strangely authoritative voice. ‘Firstly, I’d like everyone to join with me in
congratulating Patrick on reaching his eighteenth birthday. Happy birthday, Patrick.’

‘Happy birthday to you,’ the crowd sang, ‘happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Patrick. Happy birthday to you.’

Patrick blushed, but looked pleased, not as pleased though as Marie, his mother, who was thrilled that such an important birthday had been celebrated in public. She and Danny had sent cards and so had Victoria and Kirsty – there’d been nothing from Liam who must have forgotten – but had circumstances been different, Patrick would have received dozens and dozens of cards from his aunts, uncles, and cousins back in Donegal, and from his friends in Belfast where there’d have been a party that would have gone on all night and half the next day.

‘Secondly,’ Rachel continued when the singing stopped, ‘this is the last time we’ll have Victoria with us. Tomorrow, she’ll be flying off to a new life in New York. Let’s drink to Victoria and wish her all the luck in the world.’ She raised a cardboard cup. ‘Victoria!’

‘Victoria!’ people echoed.

‘Thank you,’ Victoria said in a small voice, and Tiffany burst into tears.

Kathleen slipped home, unnoticed. She’d been too worried about Steve to enjoy herself. Anna was delightful, but she never shut up and had been getting on her nerves.

The first thing she did was pick up the phone to see if there was a message on voicemail, but the even tone indicated there was none. All of a sudden, she remembered that, if Jean had genuinely had a heart attack, then she had the phone number of the hospital where she would be in her address book – she’d had several friends
there. She found the book and, after some hesitation, picked up the phone, dialled the number, and asked for the Cardiology ward.

‘You have a patient, a Mrs Jean Cartwright,’ she said when she’d been put through. ‘I’d like to know her condition, please.’ She prayed the nurse who answered would deny having a patient of that name or say it had been a false alarm and she’d been sent home.

‘Are you a relative?’

‘I’m her sister-in-law.’

‘I’m sorry to say that Mrs Cartwright’s condition is critical.’

‘I see.’ Kathleen drew in a deep breath. ‘Is her husband with her?’

‘Yes, he’s been here all day, and her daughters.’

‘Thank you.’ She put the phone down, feeling shocked and horribly ashamed. Critical! There was actually a chance that Jean might die. And if she did, Kathleen knew for certain that Steve would be with her until the end and that he’d blame himself for the heart attack. Then there’d be a funeral and he might feel obliged to stay with his girls, at least for a while – or perhaps for ever!

And if Jean recovered? Kathleen dropped her head into her hands. If Jean recovered, she had no idea what would happen then. There were too many ifs and buts for her to cope with.

She should be feeling sorry for Jean, not herself. Perhaps Steve hadn’t rung because he expected she’d fly off the handle if he said he wasn’t coming home, didn’t even
know
when he’d be home.

‘God, I’m such a bitch,’ she groaned aloud. She lit a cigarette, but stubbed it out almost immediately. Right now, she wasn’t very keen on her own company. She’d
go back to the barbecue, listen yet again to the story of how Anna had once starred in a film. It would be a sort of penance.

‘When Irish eyes are smiling,’ Patrick sang and everyone joined in. ‘All the world is bright and gay …’

Some people had become aware of the black cloud that was getting fatter and fatter as it climbed towards the heavens.

‘I hope it doesn’t rain.’

‘So do I, but we could do with a good shower.’

‘As long as it’s just a shower …’

Tomorrow was St Swithin’s Day, Rachel remembered as she eyed the cloud. If it rained, then it would rain for another forty days and nights. She was glad she’d had the barbecue today. Everything had gone so well, much better than expected. It was almost nine o’clock, but no one showed any sign of wanting to go home. Kathleen had disappeared, but only for a while. Frank couldn’t very well complain it had been a failure as he’d predicted. He was sitting on the grass, eyeing up Victoria’s friend, Sarah having managed to escape his attentions. He might be trying to think up spiteful things to say to his wife when everyone had gone.

That afternoon, Rachel had gone into town and bought gold sandals and the green silky dress that she’d tried on the other day. The hairdressers were very busy, but said they could just manage a wet cut. She’d come out, her hair transformed. It would never be thick like Kathleen’s or curly like Victoria’s, but it looked respectable for a change. She’d felt quite proud of her appearance tonight and no one had looked sorry for her, as they usually did.

Gareth’s mother approached. ‘I just wanted to say I’ve
had a lovely time, Rachel. Thank you, very much. I’ve really enjoyed myself.’

‘Do you have far to go?’

‘Wallasey. It’s quite a way, but Debbie has asked me to stay the night with her and Gareth.’ She looked very pleased about it.

‘In that case, we’ll probably see each other in the morning.’

‘Tiffany,’ Sarah called, ‘time to go home, darling. I want to put Jack to bed and give Alastair his bottle.’

‘Don’t want to go home, Mummy.’ Tiffany was playing football with Danny Jordan. The child was tireless. Judy Moon was nursing Tabitha and talking about getting a cat of her own.

‘I’ll bring Tiffany over later if you like, Sarah,’ Rachel offered. Patrick started to sing, ‘I’ve been a wild rover for many a year …’

‘Thank you, Rachel,’ Sarah said, and Frank rose to his feet and said in a loud voice, ‘I wouldn’t trust
her
with your little girl, Sarah. You’re not likely to see her again.’

Patrick stopped singing and guitar gave an angry twang when his fingers pressed the wrong strings. The buzz of conversation ceased and everyone looked uneasily at Frank, swaying slightly, his face as red and angry as Rachel had ever seen it. Saliva dripped from his mouth on to his shirt, as he continued, ‘
We
had a little girl, but she died and it was all
her
fault.’ He nodded at Rachel. ‘She all but killed her with her own bare hands.’ His face collapsed and he began to weep, the tears streaming like rivers down his puffy cheeks.

‘Shush, Dad, you’re drunk.’

Kirsty took a step towards her father, but Rachel held up her hand and shouted, ‘Stay!’ She felt tall and
powerful, very strong. Nothing on earth was going to prevent her from saying what she was about to say.

Her daughter stopped in her tracks and everyone jumped. Rachel turned to her husband and said in a voice even louder than his, ‘If anyone killed our Alice, Frank, it was you. The day she died, I phoned the showroom because I was too sick to collect her from school. You’d said you were coming home early and I asked Margot, the receptionist, to make sure you left in time to pick up Alice.’ Rachel cocked her head on one side, remembering. ‘You’d just come back from lunch and I heard Margot call to you, “Rachel’s on the phone and she said will you please collect Alice,” and you replied, “OK”.’

‘That’s not true!’ Frank blustered, but his eyes were bright with fear. ‘I would have remembered if it were.’

‘Perhaps you would have remembered if you’d been sober, Frank: but you were drunk. That’s the only mistake I made, not realizing you were drunk. You’d been out having a Christmas drink with your mates.’

Thunder rumbled in the distance, but no one stirred. Tiffany and Danny had stopped kicking the ball, aware something of tremendous significance was happening between the grown-ups. Anna opened her mouth to speak, but Rachel saw Kathleen lay her hand on her arm and whisper something in her ear.

‘Margot rang the next day when she heard what had happened, that Alice had drowned, and I told her not to say anything about the phone call. I was willing to take the blame, you see.’ She threw back her shoulders and could feel even more power coursing through her veins. ‘I’m stronger than you, Frank,’ she said proudly. ‘You could never have stood up to knowing you were responsible for our little girl’s death.’ She looked at her
husband pityingly. ‘But
I
could, at least, I could have if I’d had your support. But you behaved as if I’d taken Alice to the canal myself and held her head under the water.’ There was a chorus of horrified gasps from the rapt crowd. Rachel looked at them and said conversationally, ‘He turned my children against me. He tells me over and over how much he hates me, that if he were me he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.’

‘Mum!’ Kirsty ran and threw her arms around her mother. ‘Oh, Mum.’

James, her son, who’d been so cold with her, groaned, ‘I didn’t know, Mum. I didn’t know.’

Rain had begun to fall, only lightly at first, quickly turning into a downpour. A bolt of lightning split the sky, but still no one moved until they realized that Rachel had finished. Only then did they collect their belongings and make a dash for home. Frank Williams collapsed, weeping, on to the grass. No one went near him.