September Starlings (60 page)

That wasn’t an option. ‘No. I’ve returned the letter, sealed it up again. There are no Thompsons on Wordsworth Street. Except … the electoral register. My name will be on that. A social worker found us for him.’

She snorted in disgust. ‘We were a lot better off before they invented them rotten social workers. They do nothing but damage. There’s kids out there being beaten to death, but where’s the cavalry? In Walton giving out names and addresses. We had a social worker, though, and she was nice. Stuck up for me in court, she did, said I was a good mother. But most of them are rubbish, bits of girls with bits of qualifications, or middle-aged women with lives that are so bad, they have to go and poke their noses in other folks’ muck. Takes their minds off their own mess, like. What are you going to do? When’s he coming out?’

‘I don’t know the answers to those two questions, Liddy.’ Though I did know that I’d be leaving Seaforth, leaving Liddy and Jimmy and all those rumbustious kids with silly names and bright, hopeful smiles.

‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph.’ This phrase didn’t sound like blasphemy, was not uttered in Liddy’s usually strident tones. The girl was actually praying, had closed her eyes and woven her fingers together behind Daisy’s little head. ‘He’s sick,’ she said softly. ‘Clever-sick, the sort of ill what never gets diagnosed. With people like him, you don’t know what’ll happen.’

I knew what was going to happen, all right. I was about to perform one of my famous disappearing acts, would melt away like boiling water on snow, leaving nothing but a muddy pool. This little woman’s tears would make that puddle. ‘I’m scared, Liddy. He’s … he’s fixed on me, has had me in his sights since we were both children. I’m like a deer caught in somebody’s headlights, turned to stone because I don’t know which way to run. He’s having us watched, I think. Someone who’s just been released is going to keep an eye on us. How the hell will we recognize him?’

She looked hard at me. ‘You’ll be buggering off, then.’

‘Possibly.’

The small nose wriggled then sniffed. ‘I’ll not sleep. I’ll not be able to sleep without the noise of that bloody typewriter. And where will you go?’

It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Liddy. Liddy was one of those people who could be trusted completely, yet my destination would need to remain a secret. If she talked to Jimmy, if the children overheard, if some man in the street offered them sweets and money for Auntie Laura’s address … ‘I’m sorry, Liddy.’

‘So am I.’ She lay down, placed the baby on her chest, wiped a tear from the corner of an eye. ‘We’ve been good mates, Laura.’

‘We have, Liddy. We have indeed.’

When Daisy was three days old, her grandmother died. Jimmy went into overdrive, kept turning up at Liddy’s with a sad face, feet so itchy that he couldn’t sit still for five minutes at a time, and carrying items of sombre
clothing for his children. They were to attend the funeral of a woman who had refused to recognize their mother. Liddy announced that she would not go. ‘She’d not want me, Jimmy. She never wanted me in life, so she’d not look kindly on me if I followed her coffin. It’d be like I was gloating.’

‘You’re coming,’ he insisted. ‘Laura can hang on to our Daisy.’

I kept out of the argument, continued to glance at the clock to see if the time to pick up my children had arrived. They had always brought themselves home from school, were not pleased about my clucky behaviour. Earlier in the day, my five-year-old had faced me across the table, arms akimbo, an expression of anger ageing her features. ‘It’s only across the park. You’ll be showing me up. Nobody except a baby gets brung home. They’ll be calling me names if you come.’

‘I don’t care. There are some funny people about, Jodie. It’s better to be safe than sorry.’

My daughter was far from pleased. Gerald, who had long since risen above matters mundane, had no opinion in the matter. But Edward felt moved to cast his vote. ‘I can look after Jodie.’ He failed to acknowledge the fact that Jodie was the one who took care of him. ‘I’m eight,’ he said importantly. ‘And I’ll make sure nobody talks to us.’

My temper was fraying. So far, I’d seen three new males in our street. One had turned out to be a health inspector who was chasing rats, and two others were selling something or other, but I couldn’t settle, didn’t dare to call Tommo’s bluff. Perhaps it hadn’t been bluff. For all I knew, he might have made several friends inside, and one or even half a dozen could be watching me and my children.

‘Laura?’

I jumped, looked from Jimmy to Liddy, returned to the present with a jerk that almost sent me reeling. ‘Yes?’

‘Look at her,’ said Liddy. ‘Like a cat on hot bricks. There’s nobody out there, queen. And Jimmy’ll be
moving in after the funeral, so he’ll make sure no harm comes to you.’

Jimmy touched my arm. ‘You can’t go on like this, love.’

‘I know.’

Jimmy explained what was going to happen, told me that he, Liddy and the children would be going to the church in Halewood, then to the cemetery. I was to take care of the baby until they returned.

The next day, I wheeled Daisy to the school, watched my children as they leapt away from me in an effort to be absorbed as quickly as possible into the playground throng. Gerald was the last to disappear. He stood with his back to the building, watched me warily until I pushed the pram towards the park. My heart lurched as I registered the knowledge that he might be the target. I could imagine Tommo arranging the kidnap, pleading with some old lag, imploring a felon to come and reclaim his son. In such moments, I realized that I did love my children. I was not the best of mothers, but my instincts were in the right place.

The day passed uneventfully. I fed Daisy, dangled her on my knee, enjoyed that warm, powdery smell that always accompanies a clean baby. When my own three were safely delivered from whatever demons awaited them, I sat in my white room, put Daisy in her pram, wrote a few pages of my latest True Hearts romance.

It was about nine o’clock when Liddy rushed in. She was drained white beneath the make-up, was trying to speak in a voice that seemed to be strangled at birth. I thought she was drunk, got up from the table and guided her into the room. ‘Liddy? What on earth have you been up to?’

‘They’re … coming,’ she managed.

‘What? Who’s coming?’

She pointed towards the door. ‘Jimmy’s took the kids somewhere safe. It’s the gangs, the ones we used to have trouble with. There’s … oh, God …’ Her breathing
quickened. ‘Fighting. They say I killed her. Me being a Catholic killed her. Then the Catholics say I’m … With not being married, with him being a Proddy. All drunk, Laura. Followed me here. Mind that baby.’

She ran out of the house, yelled at the top of her voice. ‘Come on, you bastards. Here I am. Come on, catch me if you can.’

My brain engaged a higher gear, crashed into motion, sent me up the stairs. I woke the boys, grabbed Jodie from her bed. ‘Coats,’ I said. ‘Get out into the back yard and stay quiet.’

Jodie rubbed her eyes. ‘Why did—’

‘No questions,’ I snapped. ‘Outside. Now.’

We huddled together in the lavatory shed, the baby plastered against my chest, the other youngsters clinging to each other, teeth chattering with cold, their breathing fast and shallow. We heard glass breaking, listened to the whoops of revellers on the warpath. So many battles had been fought in the name of Christianity, I thought. Was there any real good? Was there any perfection on earth, beyond earth?

‘Why?’ whispered my daughter.

‘Drunk,’ I answered. ‘Drunk and very silly.’ Little Liddy had drawn their fire to save her baby. And I was shut out of my house because the invaders had no doubt marked the spot where Liddy had reappeared. I prayed, hoped that Confetti was praying too. If there was good somewhere, we needed to access it quickly.

Eventually, we went back inside, made cups of cocoa, piled coal on the fire. The children were subdued, seemed to understand that questions would be useless, unanswerable. I tucked them into their beds, came down, nursed the whimpering Daisy.

At ten past three in the morning, Jimmy and Liddy returned. He wore a bandage over one eye, had needed treatment at the hospital. Liddy’s banter had taken a holiday. Dishevelled and mournful, she took Daisy from me, wept silent tears into the downy hair.

‘Are the kids all right?’ I asked Jimmy.

He nodded. ‘I got them to a mate, then ran down here to find Liddy. We’ve been across Liverpool that many times, I could write a blinking guide book. Anyway, there’s a load of them banged away in the bridewell, and we’re all up in court tomorrow. Disturbing the peace if we’re lucky, causing an affray if we’re not.’

I stared at Liddy. ‘What was it all about?’

She lifted her head. ‘It’s about Jesus when you boil it down. Yes, that’s it. We were fighting about a good man and it makes no bloody sense at all.’

Jimmy moved in next door and I tried to feel safe, but the man’s working day was long and, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I could not become yet another of Jimmy Hurst’s many responsibilities. And it was plain that the Mansell/Hurst clan would be relocated soon, as the housing people had visited several times in order to assess the level of overcrowding. With two children sleeping downstairs, three in the back bedroom and a baby with the parents, they were definitely bursting out of the small terrace. Liddy and I spent a few days looking at what was available, always coming back in time for me to pick up my three from school. I was developing eyes in the back of my head, had grown invisible antennae that could pick up the scent of a stranger from a distance of a hundred paces.

She didn’t like any of the houses. ‘Them walls is cardboard, never mind hardboard,’ she kept saying. ‘And there’s too many kids messing about in the streets. I’ve a job keeping them in as it is, so I don’t want them flying round a bloody ghetto. We’ll stop here till they fetch the army.’

I stirred my tea, glanced at the pile of proofs that had arrived from the publisher. Oh God, I would have to read through my own stuff yet again. Reading my work was boring and repetitive. Bits that had started out quite well began to look trite after several perusals. Perhaps I should go back to baking, get some scones going, try to sell them to the local shops …

‘What are you thinking about this time, Laura?’ asked Liddy.

‘You can’t stay here,’ I replied. ‘They won’t allow it. Some of those newer houses have four bedrooms and downstairs toilets too. Just imagine having a bathroom. They’re going to close the public baths, you know, because they’re making no money. Last time we went, we were the only ones there.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with an all-over wash.’ She snapped a ginger biscuit, dunked it in the cup.

‘The kids will grow, they’ll get too big for that. They won’t want to be stripping off in their teens, will they?’

Liddy sighed, gave me a look that conveyed agreement. ‘What about you?’

‘I don’t know.’ I didn’t know. The task of moving on with the children was not easy to imagine or to arrange. It would involve new schools, new friends, changes that might impede development. The road in front of my three was already bumpy, as they would need to be told about Tommo. Gerald had been pensive for some time, was working up to something. Any minute now, the questioning must start and the answers must be given. At some stage, I would need to explain a few things, as I believed firmly that children’s rights should be respected. There could be no lies, yet I was grateful for having come this far without making explanations. For as long as possible, I wanted to pave the path with security, hoped to give them a stable start so that the inevitable shocks might be minimized, cushioned by the strength gained from me. Did I have enough of that strength? ‘I suppose we’ll have to go. I’m frightened to death every time there’s a knock at the door.’

She nodded, took another biscuit. ‘Get the welfare to help you. It’s their fault, anyway. It was one of their lot what told your owld feller where to find you. Tell them you want shifting.’

I considered the suggestion. ‘It could happen again. I want a different area, somewhere away from here. If we let one social worker have the address, it could easily be found by the Walton Witch.’ That poor woman had been
given many titles, and this last one had stuck. ‘I’ve got to get up and go, Liddy.’

She stared into my fire. ‘Are you going before Christmas?’

‘Probably.’ Another happy Christmas with the Mansells would have crippled me. I needed to make the decision and act on it quickly before I faltered. Leaving Seaforth was going to be difficult enough without seasoning the occasion with Yuletide tears.

Liddy yawned, glanced inside the pram where Daisy slept. ‘It’s either her or him keeping me awake at night. A part-time bloke’s all right, ’cos you get to be yourself some days. But with him living here all the while, it’s like being a film star, always at my best.’

I looked at her best. The hair was still rendered lifeless by regular applications of peroxide, and her teeth were in need of attention. She always wore thick make-up, the sort of panstick that might survive in a dance hall, though it looked garish and out of place in daylight. But Liddy’s charm had nothing to do with the packaging. There was life in her face, energy, movement, naughtiness. ‘He won’t mind how he sees you, Liddy. You could wear a potato sack and he’d still love you.’

She grinned. ‘Love me? If he loves me any more, I’ll be having bloody quads. How do I put him off?’

‘You don’t. Just get yourself equipped and hope for the best.’

‘Equipped?’ The over-plucked and blackened eyebrows disappeared beneath a fringe of blond candy floss. ‘Listen, I’ve had one born clutching the flaming coil, and two that got past a Dutch cap and plenty of that suicidal jelly.’ She held up her hand. ‘I know it’s not suicidal, but I can’t think at the minute. I don’t want no more, Laura. I’m thirty-eight, I should be settling down and doing the knitting. See, I used to think I was immunized, like. We had our Mary, then no more for donkey’s years. But they suddenly started popping out regular, falling on the floor every time I stood up. So I’ve told him to get one of them
operations. He says he’s going to India for it, ’cos they get a free radio thrown in. Cheer up. Your gob would stop a wedding, honest.’