Liverpool Annie (36 page)

rhe guest list was pretty much the same as the one for heir second anniversary party, though she wouldn't be isking anyone from the co-op. They'd made new riends since then. The Barclays, who lived in the fravers' old house, were genuine salt-of-the-earth cousers. Some in the close still didn't like the idea of ubbing shoulders with market traders, but it would be lard to find a nicer couple than Sid and Vera Barclay, ■iaving scarcely any education themselves, they were naking sure things were different for their children, ien, their eldest, was hoping to go to university next ^ear, a fact that irritated Valerie Cunningham no end. )he thought universities should be reserved for the niddle and upper classes. The Cunninghams considered hemselves very much middle.

For days beforehand, Annie baked trays of sausage •oils and mince pies. She was looking forward to Friday. Fen years! The fact that they were so happy together ifter all that time was a confirmation of their wedding /ows, and it was only right to celebrate with a grand do.

Lauri was away, covering the Home Counties from biis base in the London hotel where he always stayed.

He promised faithfully to leave at mid-day on Friday so he'd be home in time.

Annie bought herself a new outfit; a black ribbed-jersey suit. The top had tight sleeves and a cowl neck, and the skirt was long and narrow. She'd have to remember to hold her stomach in all night.

On Friday, she fetched the decorations from the loft. It was earlier than she usually put them up, but it seemed appropriate with the party so close to Christmas. Bruno said there was no need to come to work that day, but she went to calm herself down because she was so excited.

The children came out of school, Cunninghams included, excited themselves because they'd broken up for the holidays. She gave stern instructions not to touch the food in the breakfast room, already set out for tonight, Sara had made a pretty centrepiece of cones glued to a small log, sprayed with gold, and finished off with a red ribbon.

At half five, Valerie sounded her horn and her children made their departure. Annie had hoped the horn was Lauri's. Glancing at the clock, she saw he was late. Maybe he'd found it difficult to leave at mid-day.

'Is there time for a story?' Sara asked. They could both read well, but it wasn't the same as squeezing in the armchair with their mother.

'Just a quick one.' She was about to turn the television off when the announcer said something about an accident on the M6; a lorry had overturned. No-one had been hurt, but there was already a tailback of traffic. 'That probably accounts for why your dad's not here.'

The children were still addicted to Noddy. Annie read the one about Father Christmas getting stuck in the chimney and Noddy coming to his rescue with a tow hook and a rope on his little red car.

When she finished, Sara said in an awed voice, 'Look, Mummy, it's almost snowing.'

Through the French windows, little particles of ice tvere floating like fireflies against the black night air, ind the lights of the Christmas tree were reflected; blurred smudges of red and yellow, blue and green, rhey could see themselves, very far away, as if they were at the bottom of the garden in the cold, their bodies joined together, but three distinct heads, one :opper, one golden, the other dark.

Annie had a sense of perfect happiness as she sat with lier children and imagined Lauri waiting impatiently in a traffic jam, longing to get home to his family, to the party which was being held to celebrate the fact that they had been married for ten whole years. There was that special atmosphere in the house, the thrilling, anticipatory feeling there always was when something particularly nice was about to happen, as if the bricks and mortar were aware a party had been planned.

Sara and Daniel had felt it, too. They were silent, staring at themselves in the garden whilst tiny dazzling fireflies flew around.

'Well,' Annie broke the spell, 'I'm getting nowhere fast at this rate. People'll be here soon. I'll trust you two to get washed and changed on your own. I reckon your dad's going to be late.'

Cecy was the first to arrive, she always was. Annie sent her next door to remind Valerie to bring her wine glasses. Then Chris Andrews came and wanted to know if Marie would be there.

'Pigs might fly,' Annie said sarcastically.

'It's just that I've written a play. I wondered if she'd read it. I say, you look nice, Annie. I've never seen you in black before.'

'You don't look so bad yourself,' she said. He wore a brocade waistcoat over a long, loose shirt and floppy trousers. 'I'll give you Marie's address and you can send the play to her.' She put him in charge of the music. 'I'm

afraid it's all sixties stuff; the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. I haven't bought a record in ages.'

More people came. The Barclays brought two bottles of best sherry. Sid gave Annie a smacking kiss on the cheek and wished her, 'Happy Anniversary, luv.' Everyone wanted to know where Lauri was. Dot hollered, 'I heard about the M6 being blocked. I said to Bert, didn't I, luv? I said, "I wonder if poor Lauri's bogged down in that." And you can't let people know, can you, when you're stuck in a car?'

Mike Gallagher arrived in the fringed jacket he'd got married in, his red hair in a pony tail, and wearing the round metal-framed glasses that had become fashionable. Despite his freckles and still impish face, Mike had acquired an air of gravitas since becoming a successful businessman. Tonight he looked rather subdued. Annie remembered it would be a year next week that Glenda had died.

Every time she heard a car, she looked to see if it was her husband, but it was more guests; more cousins and their wives, people from the Labour Party. Then Sylvia in a taxi, even though the Grand was only ten minutes walk away.

Mike opened the door to let Sylvia in. They allowed each other a cold smile. Sylvia grabbed Annie's arm and began to drag her upstairs.

'Syl!' Annie protested. 'There's a party going on.'

Sylvia ignored her. She pushed her friend into the bedroom. 'I'm pregnant!' she sang. She threw herself on the bed. 'It's due in July - I'd give anything to see Eric's face when he finds out!'

'Oh!' Annie breathed. 'I couldn't possibly be more glad. When are you getting married?'

'Who's getting married? Ronnie's already got several wives. I've no intention of joining a harem.'

'But that means the baby will be illegitimate!'

Sylvia laughed merrily. 'Don't be so old-fashioned, A.nnie. This is the seventies, remember! Being illegitimate doesn't matter any more.'

'What's Ronnie got to say?'

'Oh, himV Sylvia snorted. 'I've run away from Ronnie. I'm back in Liverpool for good. He had the nerve to suggest the baby was hisV

'Isn't it?' Annie said faintly.

'Yes, but he wanted me shut in a nursing home for the next six months, then the baby would be sent to his mother. Cheek!' She began to comb her hair in the mirror. 'I've chucked in my job. I suppose I'm a fugitive in a sort of way.'

'Bloody hell!'

Dot screeched, 'Annie, where's the corkscrew?' and she remembered the party and the fact there was still no Lauri at almost nine o'clock.

She wasn't quite sure when her feelings changed from worry to the almost certain knowledge something was wrong. Lauri's continued absence was beginning to concern everybody. People began to recall times when they had been stuck in a traffic jam for three hours, four hours, five. Dot said stoutly that if anything serious had happened, Annie would have heard hours ago. Chris Andrews suggested Lauri might have broken down.

'But he would have phoned,' Annie said, trying to sound sensible. 'They have telephones on the motorway, don't they?'

It was gone ten when the doorbell rang, and Gerry & The Pacemakers were singing, 'You'll Never Walk Alone'. Lauri wasn't very keen on music, but this was one of the few songs he liked.

Uncle Bert had opened the door. He held out an arm and Annie could feel it heavy on her shoulders when she saw the two policemen outside. She noticed how

pretty the frost looked, glinting on the pavements, the blue light flashing on the car parked down the close.

'This is Mrs Menin,' Uncle Bert said. His arm tightened. The music came to a sudden halt and everyone gathered silently in the hall.

'I'm sorry, madam,' a policeman said. Annie thought dispassionately what a terrible job some people had. 'I'm afraid we have bad news . . .'

Lauri must have arrived at the hold-up on the M6 just before an exit. He left the motorway just past Manchester to take an alternative route home. Perhaps he got lost, perhaps he thought the country lane would take him home more quickly to his family and the party being held to celebrate the tenth anniversary of his marriage to Annie. No-one knew except Lauri himself, and Lauri was dead. His car skidded on the ice as he was about to drive over a little humpbacked bridge. Instead, the car had plunged into the stream below. The water wasn't deep enough to drown in, but the impact killed him instantly. He'd been there several hours before the headlights of a passing motorist revealed the Cortina, nose down in the stream.

Annie felt as if someone had removed a warm, comfortable blanket from her body. She was cold all the time. She couldn't stop shivering, and although she did her level best not to cry in front of the children, she wept when she lay in her cold bed at night and thought about the future without Lauri.

People couldn't have been kinder. Because they were there when the news arrived, they felt as if the tragedy was partly theirs. It helped to be surrounded by so much

)ve, everyone saying what a fine man Lauri had been, lich a devoted husband and father.

Fred Quillen came, looking uncomfortable, bringing ondolences from the co-op. 'He was always on about ou, Annie. He idolised his family.'

Mike Gallagher was the greatest help of all. 'You're [linking the world will never be the same again, but it /on't last for ever, luv. Bit by bit, everything will return 3 normal. Lauri will always be part of you and the day /ill come when you'll be able to look into the future nd it won't all be black. I know, it happened to me /ith Glenda.'

There was so much to do: the police came several imes and she had to get confirmation of the death so a )eath Certificate could be issued and she could arrange he funeral. Lauri had lodged a Will with the bank, saving everything to her. The manager offered to elease funds in the meantime to pay the undertakers.

Dot thought it terrible the coffin wasn't being >rought back to Heather Close so everyone could say •rayers around it.

'Lauri would hate that,' Annie said stubbornly. 'It vould frighten the children, a dead body in the house, ven if it is their dad.'

Dn the morning of the funeral, Annie woke up hivering, wondering how she would get through the lay. It was still dark. She sat up, switched on the )edside lamp and pulled the duvet around her houlders. Although she was used to Lauri being iway, the empty space beside her seemed unbearable low she knew he would never sleep there again. She )egan to weep.

There were light footsteps outside, the door opened md Sara came in. Annie did her best to smile as her laughter crept into the bed.

'Sylvia's gone to make a cup of tea,' Sara whispered. Sylvia had scarcely left the house since the night of the party. She'd slept in the spare bed in Sara's room. 'Daniel's still asleep. I looked.'

It was odd, but Sara, Lauri's favourite, seemed far less affected by his loss than Daniel. Daniel wasn't upset. He was angry. 'Why won't Daddy be coming back?' he demanded when Annie tried to explain.

'Daddy's gone to heaven, sweetheart.' She couldn't bring herself to use the stark word, 'dead', not to a seven-year-old child, though 'heaven' was a lie, because Lauri was an atheist and should by rights be burning in hell if everything she'd ever learnt about religion was true.

'How dare he go to heaven and leave us?' Daniel burst out furiously.

She felt totally inadequate. More than anything, she wanted the children to be upset as little as possible by Lauri's death. Christmas was only a few days off. Their presents had been bought. She would do all she could to make it happy for them.

'I hate him. I bloody hate him.' Daniel stomped up to his room and, before Annie could follow, the telephone rang for the umpteenth time.

Sara snuggled underneath her mother's arm. 'Why can't me and Daniel go to the funeral, Mummy?'

'Because young children don't normally go to funerals, luv. Cecy's coming to look after you.'

To Annie's relief, Sylvia came in with three cups of tea. She sat on the edge of the bed. 'How do you feel?' she asked.

'As well as can be expected.'

Sylvia was too happy within herself to look sombre all the time. Every now and then she would burst into song, then stop when she remembered what had happened. Annie didn't mind. In fact, it was far preferable to Dot, who collapsed into paroxysms of tears every time she

ame, upsetting the children no end. Even Valerie Ilunningham was distraught. She'd always had a soft pot for Lauri, she confessed. Sylvia had never liked .auri. Although it didn't make sense, it was almost a elief to be in the company of someone whose eyes lidn't fill up with tears at the mere mention of his name.

'Auntie Sylvia's expecting a baby,' said Sara. 'The laddy is a prince. He wears a gold turban with a jewel n the middle, and lies on a couch while beautiful ladies eed him with purple grapes.'

'You're filling her head with nonsense,' Annie said nildly.

'I thought I'd turn it into a fairytale,' Sylvia patted her lat stomach. 'It is a fairytale in a sort of way.'

'Has Cecy got over the shock yet?'

'She'd got over it by next morning when she realised he could ring Mrs Church and tell her I was pregnant, 've no idea how she'll explain the lack of a husband, trie's got a wife, but I'll have a baby, which means the )elgados have come out on top.' She grinned slyly. Talking of husbands, I really dig Mike Gallagher in hose glasses.'

'Sylvia! You're to leave Mike alone. He's terribly vulnerable at the moment. It's only a year since jlenda . . . you know.'