Liverpool Annie (16 page)

Then Cecy and Sylvia came and took her inside. Bruno said crisply, 'Stay here, Marie.' He got into the car and drove away.

Cecy made a cup of tea and Annie drank it gratefully. 'Perhaps a drop of whisky?' Cecy suggested, but Sylvia said in a scared voice, 'She had whisky earlier and it made her sick.'

Marie looked terrified. 'What's happened, sis?'

Annie opened her arms and her sister fell into them. Words came at last. 'They're dead, Marie. Our mam and dad are dead.'

Cecy gasped. 'God rest their souls.' She crossed herself.

'The thing is,' Annie sobbed, 'it's ail my fault. I killed them. They wouldn't come to see the play and I said the most terrible things.'

'You can't kill people with words, Annie,' Cecy said, puzzled.

'/ did!'

'I don't understand, dear.'

But no matter how Annie tried, she couldn't even begin to describe the horrific sight she'd so recently witnessed.

After a while, Bruno returned with a weeping Auntie Dot. A neighbour had known she was a relative and the police arrived with the tragic news. Bruno found her and Bert in Orlando Street. Bert stayed behind to deal with all the questions that had to be answered.

'Oh, my poor Uttle lambs!' Dot embraced Annie and Marie in her scrawny arms. 'Trust our Ken! Even at the very end. Rose is the only one he gives a toss for. Didn't care, did he, that one of you girls was bound to find them? Poor Annie!' She stroked Annie's curls. 'What a thing to happen, eh? I could strangle the bugger with me bare hands,' she added.

Bruno had been talking quietly to his wife and daughter, and Cecy began to cry. Sylvia stared at Annie unbelievingly.

'But Dot, none of it would have happened if it wasn't for me,' Annie cried hoarsely. 'It was my fault. I drove them to it. Oh, if only I'd kept me big mouth shut, they'd still be alive.'

'What are you talking about, luv?'

'I'm the wickedest person in the world.' Annie felt as if her head would burst. How was she going to live with this for the rest of her life? 'The things I said!'

'Hold on a minute.' Bruno grabbed Annie's arm. 'Your father killed your mother, then himself. It was nothing to do with you.'

'It was, it was,' Annie wept.

'He left a note,' Bruno said harshly. 'He was dying of cancer. There were only a few weeks left. He took your mother with him.'

Annie shook her head. 'That was just an excuse. He didn't want me to think I was responsible.'

'No, luv,' Dot broke in. 'The note was typed. Your dad must have done it in the office before he came home. Nothing you said would have made any difference. He had it all planned.'

It was long past midnight by the time Bruno took Dot home. Marie went with them. Cecy had offered to keep both girls, but Marie preferred to be with her aunt. 'She can sleep with me. Bert won't mind dossing down in the parlour for a night or two,' said Dot.

Annie went to bed in the spare room feeling lightheaded with relief, but when she woke next morning she could smell gas and, every time she closed her eyes, she saw the bodies of Mam and Dad lying in the kitchen. I pushed his legs all crooked, she remembered.

When Cecy came in, she found Annie almost hysterical with guilt and grief. 'They were still terrible things to say when he felt so ill, when he was dying,' she said in a cracked voice.

Cecy stroked her forehead. 'He probably wasn't listening, dear. He almost certainly didn't take in a word you said.'

'But what if he did? And another thing, if I'd looked after them better, he wouldn't have felt the need to take Mam with him.'

'Annie, dear, you're only fifteen,' Cecy said softly. 'You've had far too much responsibility in your young life. Soon, you can put this all behind you and start having a nice time, like other young girls do.'

'I was already having a nice time. I neglected them. I

should have stayed in more often. I should have stayed in all the time.' Annie began to cry. 'I'd never have gone out if I'd known me dad was dying.'

'Of course you wouldn't,' Cecy said gently. 'You know, your forehead's awfully hot, I think I'll call the doctor.'

The doctor came and prescribed tablets. For the next few days, Annie swam in and out of nightmarish sleep and periods awake when everything in the room seemed to be moving silently. The furniture would loom up as if it were about to fall on top of her, then recede just in time. The pictures on the wall detached themselves and floated around like leaves in a breeze. Dot came, and Marie. Sylvia and Cecy seemed to be there all the time. Heads were unnaturally large, voices slow and deep like a broken record on a gramophone.

'I'm a terrible nuisance,' Annie would say in moments of lucidity.

One morning, she woke up feeling better. She sat up. The furniture stayed in place and the pictures remained on the walls. Annie looked around with interest. She hadn't noticed what an elegant room this was, with its silver and grey wallpaper and dove-grey satin curtains that hung in smooth folds over the narrow windows. The eiderdown and coverlet were the same material, and even the furniture was a pale bleached grey. By contrast, the carpet was deep rippled pink.

Cecy came in. Her head was a normal size and she gave a delighted smile when she saw Annie sitting up. 'Ah, I think this is the old Annie. You're looking well, dear. The colour's already back in your cheeks.'

She rushed away to make a cup of tea. A few minutes later, Sylvia appeared in a white quilted dressing gown, her blonde hair mussed. She gave a sigh of relief. 'Jaysus, Annie, you had us worried.'

'You caught that from me Auntie Dot.'

Sylvia sat crosslegged on the plump eiderdown. 'Caught what?'

'The "Jaysus". She always says it.'

'"Jaysus" is such a lovely word!'

They grinned at each other. Sylvia reached for Annie's hand. 'Oh, it's good to see you your old self again.'

Annie sighed. 'I doubt if I'll ever be me old self, Syl.' She had memories, terrible memories, that she'd never had before.

Sylvia looked grave. 'In the long run, what happened was probably for the best. Your father was going to die, and Dot thinks your mother wouldn't have wanted to live without him.'

'How did he do it?' She wasn't too sure if she wanted to know.

'The police said he put sleeping tablets in her tea.'

'Then he carried her into the kitchen and lay down beside her . . . Jaysus!' Annie bit her lip and tried not to cry, just as Cecy swept into the room with a tray of tea things. She took one look at Annie's distraught face and said sharply to Sylvia, 'Is this your doing?'

'I was only telling her about the sleeping tablets.'

'It was me that asked,' Annie put in.

'Oh, well, I suppose you had to know some time.'

'What day is it?' Annie asked suddenly.

'Monday,' Sylvia replied.

'The play. Goldilocks. It should have gone on last Friday!' She'd let Mr Andrews down.

'Don't worry,' Sylvia assured her. 'Goldilocks went ahead as planned. Mr Andrews managed to get a red wig, and according to all reports, Marie played Goldilocks to perfection.'

'Marie? Our Marie?'

'Who else? She knew the part as well as you did.'

Annie felt relieved. It was time her sister got some recognition.

'Now, get dressed the pair of you,' Cecy said impatiently. 'I'll make breakfast, and if Annie feels well enough, we'll all go into town. I feel in the mood to spend lots of money today,'

There was no question of the girls going back to Orlando Street. In fact, they never went back at all. Dot and Bert cleared the house of its contents, and brought Annie's few possessions to the Grand. To everyone's astonishment, it was discovered the house had been purchased, not rented, and the small mortgage had almost been paid off.

'He was always a secretive bugger, our Ken,' Dot said, shaking her head. They were in the Grand, in the vast private lounge which was big enough to hold two suites. Cecy and Bruno were working, and Sylvia was upstairs supposedly doing her homework, but probably playing with the hulahoop she'd just bought, 'What do you want to do with the money, Annie? Bert said the house is worth eight or nine hundred pounds. I suggest you and Marie put it in the bank and when you're a bit older, you can buy a little house between you.'

It was a month later. The Harrison girls were back at school. The news of their parents' deaths had been in the newspaper and everybody was treating them with a mixture of kid gloves and ghoulish curiosity.

Annie had remained with the Delgados, who had assured her that she could stay in the silver and grey room permanently, whilst Marie had moved into the house next door to Dot's which was occupied by an old lady, though she had all her meals with the Gallaghers, and still came to work in the Grand several nights a week. Marie appeared entirely unaffected by recent events. She actually seemed slightly more cheerful, as if she'd been freed from a great burden.

The girls had been shielded from the inquest - even the police understood that Annie had suffered enough -and weren't told about the funeral until it was over. Annie didn't ask, but she'd once read that suicides couldn't be buried in consecrated ground. She tried to stop herself from even formulating the thought that Dad wasn't just a suicide, but a murderer - unless, and she wasn't sure if this was worse, Mam had actually wanted to go with him!

'I think the money should go in the bank,' she said to Dot. 'I'll want the fees for Machin & Harpers - oh, and me and Marie will need pocket-money.' She had no intention of sponging off Cecy and Bruno. She would help in the kitchen in return for her keep.

'Are you happy here, Annie?' Dot sniffed. 'That Cecy's all right, but she's a bit toffee-nosed if you ask me.'

'Cecy's anything but toffee-nosed,' Annie assured her. 'And Bruno is the nicest person in the world.' She had quite a crush on Bruno.

Dot winked. 'Oh, that Bruno. He's dead gorgeous, he is.'

'Auntie Dot!'

'Well, I'm not so old that I don't recognise a handsome-looking feller when I see one. Bruno's so good-looking I could bloody eat him.'

'I'll tell Cecy you've got designs on her husband,' Annie threatened. 'Not that she'd care. They're mad about each other.'

'There's no need to tell Cecy anything, luv,' Dot said comfortably. 'I'm happy with my Bert. He's no oil painting, but he's the only man I've ever wanted. Anyroad, you're wrong about those two. There's something funny about that marriage. It's not all it's cracked up to be.'

Annie had no intention of getting embroiled in an

argument about the Delgados' marriage. She said cautiously, 'Dot?'

'Yes, luv?'

'When you sorted through me mam's things, did you happen to come across a Paisley scarf?'

Dot went over to the window. It was April, still daylight at eight o'clock. 'It must be nice to live right opposite the pictures - and on top of a pub,' she said. 'You've got all the entertainment you need close at hand.' Then she shook her head. 'A Paisley scarf, luv? No, I never found anything like that.'

'Are you sure?'

Dot turned and looked straight at Annie. 'Sure I'm sure. Most of your mam's things were only worth throwing away, except for that dress she had for our Tommy's wedding, and your Marie snapped that up. I would have remembered seeing a Paisley scarf.'

Annie was relieved to leave school in July. She felt she was cutting herself off from her childhood. The long summer holiday was spent as it had been the year before, in Southport and New Brighton, at the pictures. Now the Cavern had been added to their list of activities, and they regularly went dancing; to Reeces, the Rialto, the Locarno. Annie turned her blue bridesmaid's frock into a dance dress.

It wasn't until she was in bed that she thought about Mam and Dad. Some nights, she woke up in the darkness to the smell of escaping gas, but the smell always disappeared when she sat up.

Bruno insisted his daughter transfer to Seafield Convent where she could take O and A levels in readiness for university, whilst, shortly before her sixteenth birthday, Annie began a shorthand and typing course at Machin &c Harpers Commercial College.

'It's such a shame,' Mr Andrews complained when

told. He wrinkled his stubby little nose. 'You should take a course in fashion or design.'

'But it would be years and years before I could get a job,' said Annie. 'I need to support meself as quickly as possible.'

'Your sister doesn't think like that. Marie wants to take a drama course when she leaves next year.'

Annie smiled. 'Perhaps she's got more guts than me.'

'That's not true, Annie. You're too sensible for your own good.'

Machin & Harpers found employment for their students when they finished the nine-month course. Within a week of leaving, Annie started work in the typing pool at Stickley & Plumm.

Shortly afterwards, Sylvia got the results of her O levels. She'd failed the lot except Art, in which she achieved a B grade.

'Well, I suppose we should be thankful for small mercies,' Bruno said glumly. 'I didn't know you were good at Art.'

'Neither did I.' Sylvia had no desire to go to university and didn't care a jot. 'I've never done oil painting before. I quite enjoyed slapping the colours on. I felt sort of reckless. According to Sister Mary, my pictures had a message, though I don't understand what it was.'

'Well, you needn't think you're leaving Seafield,' Bruno snapped. 'You're going back for A levels.'

'Okay, Bruno.'

As Sylvia later explained to Annie. 'I don't mind it there. The nuns like me because I'm half Italian. They seem to think I've some connection to the Pope. And if I don't go to school, Bruno might make me get a job.' She shuddered. 'Having seen you leave at eight every morning and not get home till six, and work Saturday mornings, I'd sooner go to Seafield Convent any day. It's only a few minutes down the road.'

'You're dead lazy, Syl.' Sylvia yawned. 'I know.'

Time passed pleasantly. She and Sylvia went dancing several times a week, and always to the Cavern on Saturdays to hear the Merseysippi Jazz Band. Sometimes they went on a Wednesday, Skiffle Night, when Lonnie Donnegan or the Gin Mill Skiffle band played.