Nest of Sorrows (38 page)

‘Silly mare,’ whispered Rachel to Ernie, who was bent double with the agony of trying not to laugh while she sold these ornaments that so plainly irritated her. ‘Just think, Ernie, come next Christmas, there’ll be five more houses with one of them things in the window. Where there used to be a nice plant or a pot dog, there’ll be bouncing blinking balls. I could do with this business until it came to bouncing balls. I am going to draw the line, Ern.’

He guffawed loudly. ‘You mean you ain’t gonna sell no more? What will Arthur say?’

‘He can say what he wants. Let him have these horrors in his shop, look at them! I can’t fit any pots on me stall because of these stupid balls. Every time the wind blows, they start bobbing about like ducks on water.’

A little voice piped up, ‘Can I have a shocking pink one, Mrs Bottomley?’ and Rachel turned to find Kate’s neighbour standing to one side of the stall. Well, Kate’s ex-neighbour . . .

‘Eeh love.’ Rachel’s tone was filled with concern. ‘You don’t want one of them things. They’re in very bad taste.’

Christine’s face fell. ‘Oh, I see. Only Derek always told me what to buy, but he isn’t here any more.’

‘I know. And I’m sorry, lass.’

‘I thought the babies might like them.’ She was wearing two slings, one child fastened to her back, the younger infant plastered against her chest. A third youngster was struggling to break free of toddler reins and Rachel relieved her of this exuberant three-year-old. ‘They’d pull the balls off and choke on them, Christine. That would never do, would it?’

‘Oh. Well, I was going to have it high up. Still, if they’re in bad taste, I won’t bother.’

Rachel smiled encouragingly. ‘Fair enough. Can I interest you in anything else?’

‘Well . . . I just wondered . . .’

‘Anything at all. As long as it’s pots or ironmongery, I can get it.’

Christine took a deep breath. ‘It’s not exactly ironmongery at all. I want Kate’s new address. See, I’d like to write to her and tell her how Melanie’s getting on.’

Rachel tutted quietly. ‘I’m under starter’s orders, love. I’ve not to give our Katherine’s address to nobody. What I can do, though, is contact her and tell her to get in touch with you.’

This was all getting a bit complicated for Chris. ‘I need to get hold of her,’ she said, a hint of desperation in her voice. After all, she would have to tell Kate about herself and Geoff, wouldn’t she? ‘Her and me, we were getting quite intimidated with one another.’

Rachel passed a hand across a grin as she translated Christine’s meaning. ‘Tell you what, then. You give me a message and I’ll pass it on to Katherine on Sunday when we go and see her. Will that do?’

‘It’s . . . private.’

‘Oh, I see. Well, what shall I do then?’

Chris hung her head in despiar. ‘I’ll have a thick-bottomed frying pan and tell her to phone me some time.’

‘All right.’

That night, Chris snuggled up to her lover and rained apologetic kisses all over his face. ‘I tried my best,’ she said. ‘But Rachel wouldn’t tell me anything. She said she’d see Kate next Sunday and ask her to . . .’

‘When? What time?’

‘I don’t know. She just said Sunday. Why, Geoff?’

‘We can follow them!’ There was triumph in his tone. ‘We’ll follow Rachel and Arthur to Crosby!’

‘Is that . . . is that a good idea?’

‘Of course it is. What a clever girl you are!’ Then he set about the business of repaying her for such cleverness.

They sat for three hours outside Arthur Bottomley’s shop and place of residence, Geoff cursing and shivering from lack of sleep, Chris doling out concern, sandwiches and cups of coffee from a giant Thermos. ‘Don’t fret, darling,’ she murmured. ‘We’ll find your poor little Melanie’s mum.’

Geoff ground his teeth noiselessly. Poor little Melanie? There’d have been no need for this charade if poor little Melanie had come up with the goods. But no. She might be living with her father, but Melanie’s real loyalties plainly resided in North Liverpool.

Of course, getting away had not been easy. They were going to look for a car, that was the official version. Chris needed to change her car and Geoff was going to help her choose. Could Melanie come? The girl’s face had worn a knowing look as this question dropped from her lips. No, Melanie could not come. Melanie had a riding lesson at three . . . Why were they setting out so early if they weren’t going to be back by three? This astute query from Dora, who had looked decidedly suspicious. Well, there were a lot of cars advertised this week and one of them was as far away as Bispham. Dora would enjoy a trip to Bispham, Dora wanted to come, would they wait while she found her pills. No, they could not wait. Geoff had promised his mother an outing some time next week, then, after bundling his mistress into the Rover, he had set off at speed down the driveway.

He looked at his watch. Twelve o’clock. ‘Are you sure she said this Sunday?’

‘Yes,’ replied Chris, her mouth full of sausage roll. ‘Isn’t it exciting?’ She brushed a few crumbs from her bosom. ‘It’s like one of those American gangster films where everybody follows everybody else.’

Geoff thought it was more like a Keystone Kops episode, but he didn’t air his view, simply because he knew his opinion would be stifled at birth by Christine’s slowness of uptake. ‘I’m going to need the bathroom,’ he mumbled.

‘Oh.’ She turned her head and surveyed the surrounding area. ‘You’d best go up that alley, then. There’s no toilet round here.’

He juggled with his thoughts. The idea of urinating in a public passage was revolting, but so was the concept of wetting himself and the Rover’s seat. Nature won in the end, and he arrived back at the car to find Chris in a state of wild excitement. ‘They’ve gone!’

‘When?’

‘Just now, a minute ago. They went up this road towards the school where Kate used to teach.’

Geoff reached into the back of the car and took some items from a bag. Swiftly, he donned a scarf that came up to his chin, a trilby hat and a pair of darkish glasses. It was then that Chris made her serious mistake – she laughed. Geoff liked a joke. He was often to be found having a good old giggle at the golf club or in the local pub. Why, his sense of humour was renowned, wasn’t it? But one of Geoff’s major flaws was that he could not stand to be the butt. ‘What’s so funny?’ he snapped.

‘The hat! It makes you look so . . . so old!’

‘Good.’ There was no alteration in tone. ‘I don’t want to be spotted, and this is no laughing matter, Chris. There’s already a chance that Rachel might recognize the car – though I haven’t had it long, and she wasn’t exactly a regular visitor. But we must keep cool. Sniggering like a teenager will get us nowhere.’

‘Oh.’ She was hurt, wounded to the quick. ‘We won’t get far if we sit here either, will we?’

With such simplistic logic, he could not argue. ‘It’s all right,’ he said with a slight note of apology. ‘I know where they’ll be heading for and it’s a fairly straight road. Now, I want you to keep your head down in case Rachel spots you. When we get a bit nearer, you can put your scarf on and hope for the best, because we might need two pairs of eyes.’

So Chris saw little of the journey up St Helens Road, through Leigh and Lowton and down towards the East Lancashire Road. It was then, as Geoff was about to turn on to this main Liverpool to Manchester trunk route, that he declared, ‘Found them. Keep down, please. I’ll try to make sure there are at least two cars between us and them.’

They drove through Bootle and down to the dock road, Chris raising her head occasionally to catch a glimpse of a ship as it sat waiting to load or to discharge its cargo. Then it was left for Litherland and Waterloo, up Liverpool Road and straight into the heart of Great Crosby. They passed Merchant Taylors’ and, when they reached St Mary’s College, Geoff saw Arthur’s car making a right turn into Endbutt Lane. This area was quite densely populated, and Geoff realized that they must be right on top of Kate’s house, because the avenues here were narrow. No-one would drive along these streets unless they were seeking a specific address.

He slowed as Arthur turned left off the lane, following at a snail’s pace till the Austin stopped on a corner of the Northern Road. With infinite care, the Rover was parked and its occupants watched furtively while Arthur and Rachel went into the end house.

‘There!’ exclaimed Geoff triumphantly. ‘Got her!’

Chris sniffed. ‘Right. What are you going to do about it?’

‘Nothing. Not just now.’ Then, almost to himself, he added, ‘But I’ll get that lady home one of these days, just you wait and see.’

His passenger sniffed again. ‘You want Kate back, then?’

‘Er . . . no. Of course not. But I’d like her to see the damage she’s done. Melanie hasn’t been herself for a long time, and my mother has been left to run a household simply because madam decided to walk out on a sudden whim.’

She hesitated momentarily. ‘It . . . it wasn’t a whim, Geoff.’

‘Pardon?’

‘It was for her sanitary’s sake. She thought she’d go mad in Edgeford. Something to do with being stifled, I think she said. You and your mother were getting on her nerves . . .’ She hung her head in shame and misery.

‘The word is sanity, Chris, sanity! A commodity that Kate showed a sad lack of. She had a psychiatrist for years . . .’

‘I know. She didn’t need . . .’

‘Didn’t need? Well, she is certainly unhinged now. All women are unhinged after abortion.’

‘What?’ Christine’s jaw fell. ‘You mean she . . . ? Oh no. I don’t believe that, Geoff. Not about Kate. Kate’s a good woman, she’s my friend. No! I must go and speak to her. This is terrible, terrible . . .’

He grabbed her sleeve. ‘Hang on! You can’t just march in there . . .’

‘I want the truth! I want to know why anyone would kill an innocent baby . . .’

Panic rose in his gorge. Chris might blow the whole thing if she walked into that house! There was the injunction for one thing, but his main worry was not a legal one – he did not wish to face the joint wrath of Kate and Rachel on this or any other day. He doubted that Kate would ever implement the injunction anyway, surely she could never be so nasty? But Rachel’s temper was something he would rather avoid at all costs. ‘Chris!’ he barked. ‘Stop this. The baby was probably not alive and it was killing Kate. It’s her diabetes. Remember? I told you all about that some time ago.’

Chris nodded mutely.

‘All the same, the operation will have left her weak, damaged her mind. It wasn’t an ordinary abortion, you see. It was to save her life. If you go banging on the door and shouting, that will only upset her more.’

‘Poor Kate.’ Chris began to rock back and forth in her seat. ‘My poor, poor friend. How she must have suffered. No wonder she ran away. Oh dear. Or deary me. Let’s go home, Geoff. I feel quite ill.’

He drove slowly past the house, sneering as he saw how far down in the world Kate had willingly come. It wasn’t a patch on Beech Gardens. For a start, it was a semi and no-one who was anyone lived in a semi. And it was at least thirty years old, with white-painted pebble-dash and splay bay windows that betrayed its geriatric status right away. ‘Bloody dump,’ he muttered.

‘I think it’s quite nice,’ said Chris. ‘It has . . . oh, what’s the word?’

‘Character,’ he snapped.

‘And a nice garden. I wonder if she rents it? I wonder if she lives alone?’

He turned right on to the Northern Road. ‘She’ll live alone. That’s what it was all about, wanting to be alone with her pathetic cartoons. Well, at least we know where Melanie’s mother is.’

Chris straightened in her seat once they were out of immediate danger. ‘I still need to talk to her,’ she insisted stubbornly. ‘She will have to be told about us.’

‘Pardon?’ He swerved to avoid a parked car.

‘Us. She’ll have to be told that we are in love.’

‘What?’ He slammed on the brakes and slewed to a halt outside a park gate. ‘You . . . can’t do that! That would ruin everything!’

‘Why?’

Oh God! His mouth moved to frame the right words, but they would not come out at first. Christine’s honesty and childlike trust were suddenly a burden, yet these qualities had been so attractive only days earlier. She had too strong a sense of fair play, this one.

‘Geoff? What’s wrong? I can’t marry Kate’s ex-husband without telling her, can I now? It wouldn’t be right.’

‘Marry?’ The word was out before he could bite it back.

Her face fell. ‘We will be getting married, won’t we? I know it can’t be in church, especially mine, but we’re . . . sleeping together, Geoff. We have to get married if we sleep together.’

He cleared his throat. ‘Yes. Quite. But if you tell Kate, it will . . . er . . . damage my case. I’ll be the guilty party, so to speak. She left me, Chris. I didn’t leave her, I was quite prepared to put up with her sudden changes in behaviour. But if she sues me for adultery, I might lose my home,’ he finished, suddenly inspired.

‘Why?’

‘Because . . . because I’d have to pay her off. And Melanie and Mother would lose their home too. Could you do that to us?’

She thought for a long moment. ‘No. I suppose not. But we’ll have to stop, you and I. If I can’t tell her that we’re sleeping together, then we’ll just have to wait until we can get married.’

His lower lip protruded in an unattractive pout. ‘I’ll miss you,’ he moaned self-pityingly.

‘And I’ll miss you. But I don’t like telling lies, and not telling the truth is the same thing. We’ll have to give one another our keys back.’ She glanced at him sideways. ‘You won’t marry me anyway, will you?’

His cheeks were flushed. ‘Well I . . . It’s a bit early to tell, really.’

Chris looked down at her folded hands. ‘It’s just sex for you, isn’t it? Derek told me about people like you. I was safe with him, and I wish he was back to bash you! No. You won’t marry me.’

He coughed. ‘I might.’

She pulled back her shoulders as if forcing herself to wear a mantle of pride. ‘No you won’t, Geoff Saunders. Because I won’t marry you, see? You are not good enough for me, and you’re definitely not good enough for my friend Kate.’

‘Hey! No need for that, old girl.’