Liverpool Annie (33 page)

The old man behind the stall shrugged. 'A tanner.' 'Fancy you remembering such a thing,' Annie said as she paid. It seemed rather mean to have spent so much on herself and a mere sixpence on her husband, though as Marie said, it was the thought that counted.

Wearing her new clothes, it was a very different Annie Menin who stared back from the full-length mirror in Shelley Montpelier's room. The long skirt made her appear taller, slimmer, and it was true she had quite a nice neck which she'd never really noticed before. Her ears hurt like mad, but the pain was worth it because the gold hoops made her look like a gypsy. She'd always liked to be fashionable in the days when she was single and it seemed to matter more than when you were a housewife, but now she looked - what was the word Sylvia used? - outrel

Annie took a final satisfied glance in the mirror before going to show her sister. Marie said she looked terrific, and on no account to take the clothes off as she could wear them for the theatre that night.

There was something familiar about the man playing the villain. He had smooth black hair and a swarthy complexion, but it was his walk that convinced Annie she'd seen him before, and something about his voice.

The play was a highly enjoyable thriller and she wondered how Marie could have afforded such good seats, right at the front. In the interval, she checked the programme to see if the villain was someone she'd seen on television.

'Clive Hoskins!' she exclaimed. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

'I wondered if you'd recognise him,' Marie said smugly. 'Isn't he brilHant? He did his best to get me the part of Constance, but the producer wanted someone older. Clive got us the tickets for free.'

When the play was over, they went backstage and found Clive in his dressing room, in the process of wiping off the dark make-up. He beamed when he saw Marie. 'Hallo, darling. As soon as I've got this muck-up off, I'll give you and your gorgeous sister a nice big kiss.'

He asked after Lauri and insisted on seeing the photos of the children. Sara was going to be a very beautiful young lady. 'And is this the chap who was giving you so much trouble when I stayed? You were expecting him, remember?'

Along with several other members of the cast, they went to a club in Soho, where Annie drank only a single glass of wine, but innocently took a puff on a big fat cigarette which was being handed round, mainly because everyone else was doing it. Her head instantly left her body and still hadn't returned when it was time to leave. For some reason, Clive Hoskins was in tears and refused to be parted from Marie. They took a taxi back to Brixton and between them helped Clive indoors.

'Poor pet,' Marie crooned as they laid him on the bed. 'He's just been jilted.' She kissed his cheek. 'I love him so much.'

'Isn't that a waste of time?' said Annie. 'Being in love with him, I mean.' In the taxi, her head had returned to its proper place, but everywhere looked slightly askew. Marie had never mentioned a man in her life. Perhaps, as well as wasting herself on a futile career, she was wasting her affections on a futile relationship with a homosexual.

'I'm not in love with him, Annie. I said I loved him,

which is a different thing.' She looked down at the sleeping figure. 'Me and Clive cling to each other like creatures drowning in this cruel world.'

'I see,' said Annie, though she didn't see at all. 'I think I'll make a cup of tea and go to bed. Do you want one?'

Marie had already started to remove her clothes. 'No thanks.'

'Would you like to sleep with me? We could sleep top to tail, the way we used to do when we were little.'

'It's all right, sis. I'll cuddle up beside Clive.'

Annie was careful only to use things out of the sparsely stocked wall cupboard marked, 'Marie', when she made the tea. There was no fridge, the milk was sour and little shreds of white floated to the mug's surface, but she didn't care. The other two cupboards were marked 'Shelley' and 'Tiffany'. Tiffany lived in the downstairs room and worked in a nightclub. There'd been no sign of her as yet.

She sat up in bed feeling exceptionally relaxed, staring at Shelley/Brenda's carefully posed portrait which she'd turned round again that morning. The face seemed almost real, almost alive. A street lamp shone through the thin curtains and everything in the room was unnaturally clear, the shadows sharply defined. A long woollen dressing gown hung behind the door like a headless monk.

It seemed odd, wearing earrings in bed, but the man had said to leave them in for six weeks and just turn the rings round from time to time. Her ears throbbed and her heels smarted where the strap of her new sandals had rubbed, yet neither seemed all that unpleasant, almost as if it was happening to someone else.

She'd actually smoked a drugged cigarette! Although she hadn't realised it at the time, she was quite glad she'd done it. Wait till she told Sylvia! It made her feel

very much part of swinging London. How strange to think that on the nights she and Lauri were staidly watching television or fast asleep in bed, Marie was flitting round Soho smoking cannabis or whatever it was called. And what a peculiar set-up with Clive - how could you love a man, yet not be in love?

The front door opened and voices whispered in the hall, one male. Someone used the bathroom, then all was silence. An occasional car drove by, briefly illuminating the room with a flash of yellow light.

Annie sighed and wondered if Sara and Daniel were missing her, just as another car went by, and as the headlights swept the room, everything became clear. She wasn't in love with Lauri, but she loved him! It had been so right from the start. Dot's words after her twenty-first came back distinctly. 'Ken was never much of a dad, was he? You're looking for a father figure and Lauri Menin fits the bill perfectly.'

'Oh, God!' She put the mug on the bedside table and leaned forward with her arms around her knees.

After all those years of responsibility, how nice to be treated like a child and let Lauri take all the decisions. But she'd grown up without him realising, without realising herself, and he resented her becoming independent, just as she resented not being treated as an adult. It explained all those confused, mixed-up emotions she'd had recently.

Her head was spinning, but it had been an exhausting day and she quickly fell asleep. When she woke, her mind was as clear as crystal. It was early, not yet light outside. Everywhere was very quiet and she missed the sound of birdsong, usually the first thing heard in Heather Close. A radio was switched on next door and she could hear hymns and remembered it was Sunday.

She would never know what she'd missed by not

falling in love. 'I've made me bed, and I'll have to lie on it.' She had the children, and it wasn't an uncomfortable bed to spend the rest of your life on.

Clive Hoskins was still asleep when they left for Mass at Westminster Cathedral - Marie admitted she rarely went nowadays. Afterwards, they lunched in Lyons Corner House then window-shopped, arm in arm, in the nearly deserted West End. The weather had changed dramatically and it was dull and overcast. A sharp breeze whipped the air.

'Have you enjoyed yourself?' Marie asked as they tore themselves away from Liberty's window.

'I've had a lovely time. What I like most is just being with you. Sometimes, I worry you've forgotten me.'

Marie laughed. 'Sis! You're Hke an arm or a leg. I don't think about them all the time, but I'd be devastated if I didn't have them.'

'It's funny,' Annie said thoughtfully, 'I've got a family, yet I miss you more than you do me. You've got no-one except Clive.'

'Ah, but I've got an obsession - acting. Everything pales into insignificance beside that.'

'That time you were pregnant, you wanted a baby to love.'

'That was then, sis, this is now.'

They walked in silence for a while. 'I want to tell you something I've never told another soul, not even Clive.' Marie released her arm and began to walk ahead so her face was hidden behind the velvet hat. 'I was offered a big part in a play once. It was to go on in the West End, but the leading man died and it came to nothing. I was ten weeks pregnant at the time. I had an abortion - the law's changed, it's legal now.'

'Oh, Marie!' Annie breathed.

Marie didn't turn around. It was as if she were

talking to herself. 'When I first realised, y'know, I thought of giving up acting, perhaps coming back to Liverpool. Till then, I was getting nowhere fast. Then came the play and I was presented with two choices. The baby didn't stand a chance.'

A bus trundled along Regent Street and Annie wondered if she should have bought Daniel a bus instead of a soldier. He loved buses. 'What about the father?' she asked.

Marie shrugged her shoulders carelessly. 'Roger? Oh, he never knew.'

'Was he an actor?'

'He is an actor. He was in The Avengers the other week, playing a good guy for a change.' She paused outside a shop which sold Indian ware. 'I quite like that carved box with mosaic round the edge.'

'Did you feel upset afterwards, like you did the other time?' Marie's face was reflected in the window. She looked quite calm, yet . . .

'It didn't affect me a bit.' Marie's voice was brittle. 'I had to have that part, you see. Even when it turned out to have been a waste of time, I didn't care. It had made me realise what my priorities were. Kids weren't on the agenda, acting was.'

'Marie!' Annie touched her sister gently on the shoulder.

'Ah, but I haven't forgotten the other, my little boy.' Marie spun round. Her eyes were unnaturally bright and Annie was shocked by the naked misery there. 'He'd be fourteen, a year older than I was then. If I try hard, I can see him. I've watched him grow up over the years. He's as tall as me and, for some reason, he's got straight fair hair and blue eyes.' Her face twisted bitterly. 'Oh, Annie, sometimes I don't half hate our mam and dad.'

A man and woman passed, tourists, with cameras

slung around their necks. They stared curiously at Marie's impassioned face.

'Come on, luv.' Annie linked her arm. 'Let's have a cup of tea.' She felt she understood her sister better. Acting wasn't an obsession, but an escape from the past.

That night was Annie's last in London. Marie seemed to have recovered from her outburst and they went to a party in someone's attic. Annie might have enjoyed herself had she been able to stop thinking about her husband and her sister. There was little she could do about Marie, but she would look upon Lauri differently when she got home. Now she knew where she stood, perhaps they could get off to a fresh start.

It was dreadful, the thought of leaving Marie. Just as Annie was fastening her suitcase next morning, the phone rang.

'It's for you, Marie,' someone called, presumably Tiffany.

Annie wasn't sure whether to cringe or smile when she heard Marie's voice downstairs. It was loud, pretentious, false. 'Fantastic, darling,' she gushed, 'I'll be there in an hour.'

'Sorry, sis, I won't be able to come to Euston with you,' she said breathlessly when she returned, her face radiant. 'That was my agent. I went for an audition last week and they want to see me again.'

'That's all right, luv.'

Marie scarcely heard. She stared at herself in the mirror. 'I'd better get changed and do something with my hair.'

'I'll be off or I'll miss me train.' Annie felt in the way. Perhaps this was the real Marie, and the chummy, companionable sister was false.

'Right.' Marie said abstractedly. 'Oh, I'll come

downstairs and see you off. Can you remember the way to the tube?'

'Yes, just round the corner.'

'Sorry about this, but it's an opportunity I can't miss.'

'I'm glad your agent called before we'd left,' Annie said politely. 'I hope you get the part.'

'So do I. Oh, so do I.'

They embraced briefly on the step. Annie hadn't taken a step when the door closed. She was about to turn the corner of the cheerless street, feeling indescribably sad, when she heard her name called. 'Annie! Annie!' There was a hint of desperation in the sound.

She turned. Marie was standing outside the house blowing kisses with both hands. She looked as if she were crying. 'Goodbye, sis. Goodbye.'

Annie backed around the corner blowing kisses in return.

Heather Close looked peaceful in the late September sunshine, and the yellow door of number seven shone welcomingly at the end. Annie sighed with relief. She'd enjoyed the short holiday, but it was good to be home,

Daniel had spied her from the window. He came running out, followed by Auntie Dot. 'We were just about to collect Sara. Oh, you've had your hair cut! It looks nice. I always said you'd suit it short, didn't I?'

Annie couldn't recall a single time, but readily agreed. 'I've had me ears pierced, too,' she said proudly. She scooped her son up in her arms. 'Did you miss Mummy, sweetheart?'

'A bit,' Daniel conceded, twisting her nose.

'I've just put the kettle on, least I think I have. You can never tell with them electric ones.' Dot looked slightly moidered. 'There's time for a quick cuppa and you can catch up on the news.'

'What news?' She quickly learned that in the space of

four days Sara had lost a tooth, Lauri had cut his finger sharpening the lawnmower and had to get it stitched at the hospital, and Sylvia had left Eric and was living with Bruno at the Grand.

Sara's face lit up when she saw her mother waiting at the school gate. 'I missed you. Mummy,' she said gravely. 'Please don't go away again.'

'Next time you can come with me,' Annie promised. It meant visits to Soho clubs would be out, but that wouldn't be such a bad thing.

When Lauri came home, she made a big fuss of him. The first finger of his left hand was heavily bandaged.

'You should have taken a few days off,' she cried.

'We can't afford it, Annie.'

She thought he didn't seem at all well. His cheeks looked heavy and grey and he moved slowly, as if it was an effort. 'I think you should have an early night,' she insisted. 'Perhaps you're run down.' She felt guilty. It was he who should have had a holiday, not her. 'I'll get you a tonic from the chemist tomorrow.'