Queen of the Mersey (49 page)

They wouldn’t go sailing in such a gale. She wondered if there’d been time for them to launch the boat before the wind had risen. Would Roddy have had enough time to collect Gus, drive to Formby, where he always parked the car at the edge of the sands and drag the boat across to the water? She felt a moment of fear, listening to the wind lashing against the house and imagining the tiny boat being tossed to and fro in the middle of the Mersey, but dismissed it. Even if the boat had been launched, it couldn’t have got far and Roddy would have returned to shore immediately. He wouldn’t risk Gus’s life. Any minute, they’d be home, having abandoned the idea of sailing.

Laura returned to the marking, expecting all the time to hear the car stop outside. Roddy would uncouple the boat, wheel it on its trailer into the drive, and reverse the car in front.

Another hour passed, the wind grew fiercer, but Roddy and Gus didn’t come. She couldn’t concentrate on marking, and stood at the window, peering down the road, expecting to see the car turn the corner. Several cars did, even a dark blue Morris, which made her heart lift, but it went past, being driven by a woman.

She was getting agitated now, couldn’t sit still, kept making tea and forgetting to drink it. She thought about ringing the library to see if Gus was there, having turned down the idea of a day’s sailing, but knew it would be a waste of time. Gus would never miss the opportunity of going out in the boat with his dad. And although he lost all track of time in the library, he’d never stayed this long; three, four hours. Hunger would have driven him home, if nothing else. She remembered Roddy hadn’t taken a flask of tea, and she hadn’t made sandwiches for them to take. All he’d wanted was to get out of the house as fast as he could, away from her. Perhaps that’s why Gus had gone to the library so early, to escape from his bad-tempered mother.

At one o’clock, she rang Queenie, who always knew what to do, entirely forgetting they’d parted on such a sour note after lunch the other day.

‘Ring the coastguard,’ Queenie said crisply. ‘Do it straight away, then ring back and tell me what happened. You poor thing, you must be out of your mind with worry.’

‘Say if they drown!’ Laura said hoarsely. ‘They’re both strong swimmers, but . .

.’ Her voice trailed away in horror as she visualised the churning water, the boat being shattered by the giant waves, her husband and son thrashing helplessly about, getting weaker all the time, desperately trying to save each other, one of them – it could be either – watching the other disappear for ever beneath the waves.

‘Laura!’ Queenie shouted. ‘I said, ring the coastguard. We can talk about it later.’

The coastguard had received no reports of a boat in trouble. ‘Perhaps that’s because it’s already sunk,’ Laura said shrilly.

‘Where did your husband set off from, and at about what time?’

‘It must have been about ten o’clock. He usually sets off from Formby beach.’

‘We’ll alert other vessels in the area, madam. Please let us know immediately should your husband return.’ He asked for her name and telephone number.

She put down the phone, having forgotten she’d promised to call Queenie. The phone rang about ten minutes later, and she leapt upon it.

‘What’s happening?’ Queenie asked.

‘They’re looking for them.’

‘Roddy’s such a sensible person. I doubt if he’d go sailing in this weather.’

‘Then where is he?’ Laura cried hysterically. ‘Oh, Queenie, what am I to do if he dies, ifGus dies? Do you think this is a punishment for wanting to kill my child? God’s taking his revenge. Roddy said it was murder.’

‘You’ve told him?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘He was so angry. This morning, he left without saying goodbye.’ And he hadn’t listened to the weather forecast on the radio, which he always did before setting off for a day’s sailing. All he’d wanted was to get away from her. It was her fault, all her fault. ‘I’m sorry, Queenie. I’ll have to ring off now.’

She needed to think, quite seriously think. If she made a pact with God, promised not to get rid of the baby, then perhaps he’d save Roddy and Gus as His part of the bargain. She’d keep it, anyway, she vowed, whether they came back or not.

It was hours later, she’d no idea how many, when the Morris drew up outside.

Roddy and Gus got out, laughing, and together they unhooked the boat. Laura had spent the hours going slowly out of her mind and no longer felt entirely sane.

Her legs could hardly support her when she went to the front door and opened it.

‘Where have you been?’ The inside of her mouth was as dry as a bone.

‘The weather didn’t look so hot, so I parked by Formby station, and we caught the train into town. Gus wanted to look up something in Picton Library.

Afterwards, we had rather a nice meal in Freddy’s, didn’t we, Gus?’

Gus nodded. ‘Super, Dad.’

‘We roamed around Freddy’s a bit, thought about dropping in on Queenie, but decided she’d be too busy for callers, then went to the pictures; River of No Return with Marilyn Monroe and Robert Mitchum. You’ll be pleased to know Gus is madly in love with Miss Monroe.’

‘She’s a cracker,’ Gus agreed with a stupid grin.

‘You’d better get in touch with the coastguard, tell them you’re safe.’

‘The coastguard! Hell’s bells, Laura, why on earth did you contact them?’

‘I’ve no idea.’ Laura turned on her heel and went upstairs to bed. She slept for twelve solid hours, and when she woke up she felt her old self again. Almost.

‘I’m not leaving for ever,’ Hester protested laughingly. ‘I’ll only be gone a fortnight.’

Steven got out a neatly ironed handkerchief and pretended to dry his eyes. ‘How can I possibly live without you for a whole fortnight?’

‘Idiot!’ she said fondly.

‘If you don’t come back, I’ll kill myself.’

‘There’ll be no need for such drastic action. I’m definitely coming back. I love Hollywood too much to even think of leaving.’

‘But you don’t love me?’

‘I do not, and you don’t love me. We’re not making a movie here, Steven Vandos, so stop putting on an act.’

‘I do, you know – love you.’

‘Idiot!’ she said again.

They were in Dave’s diner, which was gaily decorated for Christmas. A tree smothered in tinsel stood by the door. It was midday, and they were having lunch, coffee and pizza, before Hester left for the airport in an hour’s time.

She mopped her brow. Outside, the sun beat mercilessly down and it was hard to believe it was December and that tomorrow she would be in England where the temperature would be about forty degrees lower. There were warm clothes at the top of her suitcase to change into as soon as she arrived.

Steven reached across the table and took her arm, holding it very tightly. ‘I’ve loved you for almost a year,’ he said urgently, ‘ever since the moment I met you off the plane. I’ve watched you having affairs; Chas, Douglas Muck, the guy with the crewcut, I can’t remember his name, Frankie Wahlbugger.’

‘Wahlberger,’ she said. ‘Frankie Wahlberger. And it’s Douglas Mack, not Muck. Do you mind letting go of my arm? You’re stopping the blood from flowing. My fingers might drop off.’

He released her arm. ‘How about me?’

‘How about you?’

‘When you come back, how about having an affair with me?’

‘You’re too old. It would be like having an affair with my father.’

‘Thirty-one isn’t exactly ancient.’ He looked hurt.

‘Nearly thirty-two,’ she reminded him.

‘Thirty-two isn’t exactly ancient, either. Anyway, Douglas Muck looked at least eighty.’

‘He was twenty-nine.’ She regarded him, head on one side. ‘I can’t take you seriously,’ she said.

‘I’m deeply serious when I say I love you.’

‘You don’t look it.’

‘I feel it.’ He put his hand over his heart. ‘In here. Now, about that affair .

. .?’

‘I’ll think about it while I’m away.’

‘I mean it, Hes. You know when you first came and you said you’d never trust another guy again, has it ever entered your pretty little head that I might not trust women?’ This time, he did sound serious. His brown eyes, usually so bright and smiling, looked sad. He wasn’t pretending.

‘What happened?’

‘During the war, when I was in France, I met this girl, name of Julia. She was in the WAAF and she was my first love, and the last – until I met you. We had this fantastic affair, swore our undying love for each other. Trouble was, she forgot to tell me she was married.’ He shrugged and bit his lip. ‘After that, I swore I’d never fall in love again – just like you, I should imagine. Whenever I’m attracted to a woman, I laugh it off, make a joke of it, determined not to be hurt again.’

‘I’m sorry, Steven,’ she said gently, both touched and surprised.

‘And I’m sorry about you and that prick, Duncan. Mind you, your permanently broken heart mended much quicker than mine.’

‘Is it mended now?’

‘It must be if I’m in love with you.’

‘I don’t know – about an affair,’ she said slowly. ‘I do love you in a way, but as a friend. If we had an affair, everything would change, and I wouldn’t want to lose your friendship. I wouldn’t want to break your heart again either.’

‘I’m prepared to take a chance on that. With you.’ He took her hand and Hester was surprised when she felt a little thrill. ‘Let’s make a vow, that whatever happens between us, we’ll always stay friends.’

‘I’ll go along with that, but let’s not make any plans until I come back, see how we feel then.’ She raised her coffee cup.

‘Let’s drink to us.’

‘To us!’

The long flight to England was very pleasant, mainly because her mind was preoccupied with Steven. She’d never thought about him in a romantic way before, but the idea of having him as a lover, possibly a husband, was exciting.

Although she was looking forward to spending Christmas and New Year with Gus, her parents, and the new baby, which could arrive any minute now, she was looking forward to going back to Hollywood, and Steven, even more.

It was snowing when she got off the plane at Heathrow at eleven o’clock next morning – she’d gained time on the way. The passengers hurried across the tarmac to the arrivals lounge. Once the formalities were over, she went into the Ladies to change her thin clothes for warmer ones; jumper, skirt, stout shoes, and a heavy coat.

The clothes felt strange and rather cumbersome. She went outside and indulged in the luxury of a taxi to Euston Station, where she discovered she had over an hour to wait for the Liverpool train. She rang home to tell them what time she’d be arriving. Gus answered.

‘How’s Mummy and Daddy?’ she asked him.

‘OK, sis.’ There was something guarded in his tone.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Well, Mum went into hospital last night. Dad’s with her. I’d be there too, but Dad said you might ring. He’ll pick you up from Lime Street station.’

‘Rightio, Gus. I’ll be there about five o’clock.’ She would have been quite happy to make her own way home, though a lift would be more than welcome. ‘I can’t wait to see you.’

The Liverpool train was uncomfortably hot. She wasn’t sure if it would have been better uncomfortably cold, as the grid under the seat threw out so much heat it scorched the back of her legs.

Mountains of black clouds lumbered across the leaden sky, and the countryside looked deserted and lonely. She was glad when it became properly dark and all she could see were little specks of light shining here and there. The occasional town they sped through was brightly lit. She was even more glad when they passed over the Mersey, the black water gleaming like a satin ribbon.

Liverpool at last! She was looking forward to the warmth of the house in Crosby, her cosy bedroom, and hoped no one would mind if she went to bed early tonight, after going to see Mummy first, of course.

Daddy and Gus were waiting on the other side of the barrier. She saw them before they saw her, and she was surprised at how glum they looked. Gus noticed her first and nudged his father’s arm. They both smiled and waved, though the smiles looked a bit forced. She was so pleased to see them, she forgot about Steven, who’d been at the forefront of her mind throughout the entire journey.

She hugged them both extravagantly, remarked that Gus must have grown a foot since she’d left, and asked, ‘How’s Mummy? Has she had the baby yet? Have I got a little brother or sister?’

A look of pain passed over her father’s face. ‘The baby arrived last night. It was a girl, but I’m afraid she was stillborn. We didn’t think it right to tell you before you got here. As for your mother, as you can imagine, she’s not very well.’

Laura had her own little room at the end of the ward. She didn’t open her eyes when Hester crept in. Vera was sitting beside the bed; she and Queenie had been bricks, according to Daddy. He didn’t know how he would have managed without them.

Vera put a finger to her lips. ‘She’s asleep, luv,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t wake her. This is the first sleep she’s had since it happened. Perhaps she’ll feel better when she wakes up. She’s been awful agitated.’

Hester could have wept when she looked down at her mother’s pallid, waxen face, hardly recognisable from the rosy-cheeked woman, full of life, she’d left behind ten months ago – it felt more like ten years.

‘Will she be all right?’

‘It’ll take a while, Hester, luv. Imagine what it must feel like, carrying a baby for nine whole months, then losing it at the last minute! C’mon, let’s go outside, in case we disturb your mam.’

Daddy and Gus were in the corridor. Hester became aware of how wretchedly tired her father looked. He said, ‘Go home, Vera. You’ve been here for hours. I’ll sit with Laura tonight.’

‘You sat with her all last night,’ Vera protested, ‘when she was at her worst.

No, you go, and I’ll stay, so you can have a nice, long rest.’

‘I think you should both go home. I’ll stay,’ Gus said firmly.

‘You’re too young. I’ll stay,’ Hester insisted. He was only thirteen, Daddy was already worn out and Vera was seventy and needed to rest.

It was Sister Fitzgerald, the same nurse who had delivered Mary Maguire’s baby, who settled the rather heated argument by telling them there was no need for anyone to stay.