For the Love of Liverpool Read online

  Tim leaves. I watch him driving away. This time, he’ll be gone for more than the usual fortnight, because grim reality has finally surfaced and must be dealt with. I blink to clear water from my eyes. The man has been my rock, the one I’ve clung to since I was eleven years old. In a class above mine at school, he was bullied about being gay because of our friendship, and he took it all on the chin. If he could just conquer his flying phobia, he’d be sorted.

  I should have listened to Tim years ago. He’s right – I’m too stubborn for my own good. Even admitting that my best friend is right doesn’t sit well with me. Still thinking about yourself, Alex Price? Consider Kate and this recording. After all she’s been through, she needs no further shocks at present. And we must listen to it together, just as I promised. Will she notice I’m different? Will this improvement last, or is it temporary? It’s not just about me!

  I close the door and walk through the house to join the dogs. Dogs need conversation. They sit in a line and wait to hear their names. Only the one I call is allowed to run for the ball. They shiver with anticipation. For Castor and Pollux, this is a new game, but they’re learning fast. Big dogs are so much easier to train.

  Kate arrives with Kylie behind her. ‘How about we pick up where we left off on the fashion parade,’ I suggest.

  Kylie’s face lights up, and her smile threatens to cleave her face in two. She clearly needs to be the centre of someone’s universe, and I wonder whether she might keep the baby for the love she will automatically receive from a newborn. I suppose we all go through life plugging holes in the dam, looking for love, affection, success. Perhaps Monica shouldn’t have had children, but who am I to judge?

  Kate turns to follow Kylie towards the house, and I glance at my watch. Good God, I must have been under the influence of Bernard for almost an hour, yet it felt like minutes. I look round. ‘You OK?’ she mouths.

  I give her the thumbs up sign and follow the girls into the house with six large animals behind me. Perhaps dogs enjoy fashion shows? We’ll soon have the answer to that one.

  *

  Monica Hargreaves had a cob on. Cobs happen only to Liverpool people, and Monica was 100 per cent cobby. At three in the morning, she was painting the kitchen ceiling after spending several hours grouting the tiled areas.

  She was a meticulous woman. Her house was perfect. The master bedroom had an en suite, Kylie had abandoned a bedroom worthy of a princess, while the other two girls shared a very pretty boudoir. Troy had his own little play-and-sleep room, and Monica kept the whole place pristine. She worked hard at keeping up standards, and she wasn’t appreciated.

  Pete hadn’t come home. Soft lad had taken Kylie and most of Kylie’s stuff while Monica had been at Aldi buying meat. Britney and Chelsea reckoned they knew nothing, while Troy was still at the spitting-out-dummies age, so he was completely useless. ‘Where’s he taken her?’ she asked the wall. ‘Timbuktu?’

  She climbed down the ladder and sat on a marble worktop. Marble looked great, but it was cold to the backside. Pete could be double-bluffing; he might have lodged Kylie close by, then stayed out as if he’d been to London and back.

  She surveyed all she had achieved in this kitchen. Lights on kickboards, an Amtico floor, top of the range fixtures and fittings, an extension for family meals – nothing but the best, and now she had to move. ‘We have to go,’ she said aloud, ‘because she’ll be back with her baby, and the neighbours will have a right laugh, seeing as they’re so jealous of me.’

  ‘They’re not jealous.’

  She looked over her shoulder and saw Pete standing in the doorway leading to the hall. ‘Course they are,’ she snapped.

  ‘They think you’re ridiculous, and so do I.’

  The unexpected comment derailed her for a few moments. ‘Where’ve you been?’ she managed finally.

  ‘I’ve been settling my eldest daughter in a place where she’ll be cared for. She will receive the counselling she needs, any treatment she requires, and the respect she deserves.’ Kylie’s distress had been the last straw for Pete. She’d made a mistake by taking from a boy what she interpreted as love.

  ‘Where did you leave her?’ Monica shouted.

  ‘Away from you. Then I had an appointment with a solicitor, then I went for a drink or three with him. I’m divorcing you for unreasonable behaviour and a total lack of love for our kids. If you fight my decision, I’ll go to the newspapers with witnesses. Don’t forget, I’m quite a star turn in this neck of the woods. I want custodial care of all four of them, because I wouldn’t leave a tortoise in your selfish hands.’

  Monica closed her mouth so quickly that she tasted blood on her tongue, and it hurt. This event served only to increase her anger, and she glared at him. Divorce? Never in this world – not on her watch.

  Pete’s verbal assault continued. ‘When did you last read our Troy a story, eh? Who taught the girls to read while you were up to your eyes in paint and soapy water? All you care about is walls and floors and furniture.’

  She returned fire. ‘And when you have to go to work? When you go away to London – what then? They’re all well fed and decently dressed, so what’s your problem?’

  ‘I’ll get a nanny. This house will be sold, half equity each.’

  ‘I’m their mother,’ Monica screamed.

  ‘Lower your voice, or all the neighbours will hear what you really are, a bloody witch of a woman who’ll walk over her kids to get what she wants. Our Troy needs new shoes and clothes, but no, you had to get the kitchen tarted up. Our girls were short of clothes, too, but they had to wait while you found table and chairs fancy enough for your family dining area. As a mother, you’re a joke.’

  ‘And, as a father in a frock, you’re the creature that causes them to get bullied at school.’

  ‘And, as a father in a frock, I earn a good sum, sometimes after working all day as a master plasterer. You don’t know you’re born, lady. Happy enough to take Powder Puff Pete’s thousands to do up every room here, eh? Happy enough for me to plaster walls and ceilings in your mansion after a hard day working for a housing association? Well, your free ride’s over. Get a flat, get a job, and you can see the children any time you like.’

  Her temper was near boiling point, so she tried to cool it down towards a simmer. How was she going to win this one? The joint account. How much was in it? She could take the kids abroad and give them a decent holiday, Spain or Majorca, somewhere with sand and sea and nice hotels.

  ‘I’ll be sleeping in Kylie’s room,’ he said.

  ‘You can’t; our Britney’s in it. She’s fed up of sharing with Chelsea, so she’s glad our Kylie’s gone.’

  So the mother’s coldness had been passed to Britney. ‘The sofa will do,’ he replied. He just left her there, sitting by herself on a cold surface.

  Monica quickly riffled through her options. She was minus one daughter, perhaps minus a four-bedroom house and the other three children and, for the first time in her married life, she was not getting her own way. Oh yes, she was going to be minus one husband, too. The neighbours would love that. Doing a disappearing act with four – no, three – children wasn’t going to be easy. She needed a night-time flight out of John Lennon, to hell with Manchester. She must think.

  Jumping down to floor level, she checked the clock. It was a quarter to four, and the kids would be awake at seven. ‘It’ll take some planning, but I’ll cope,’ she whispered. ‘Just like I always have.’

  The Thursday meeting of managers was a tough one. Kate mostly kept her eyes on Alex, occasionally looking about and inspecting women who looked at her man as if he were a mixed grill served up after a Friday night on the booze. Bobby Ray Carson, like Alex, looked angry, because it had been his club that the dead boy was found in. She decided that she liked Bobby Ray, because he cared about Alex.

  The rest were a mixed bunch. There was Amber Simpson from Chillex, the keep fit and chill out business. She scarcely took her eyes off Alex. Lily and Ian Me
llor, who ran Charm, were middle-aged and earnest, keen to get back to having tea dances and giving lessons in the dying art of ballroom; they were OK. But Martina Nelson, manager at Checkmate, the singles meeting place, was another Amber – hungry and possibly desperate. Kate wondered about the singles; surely Marty could find someone among her clients?

  Champs aux Fraises, Alex’s newest baby, was run by two gay people, Nick Armstrong and Sandra Horrocks. Kate presumed Alex would be safe in their company. But Amber and Marty were in red hot love with him. Or red hot lust, perhaps.

  Alex was speaking and she observed how he really was something, especially when angry. His voice was quiet, dangerously so.

  ‘Any more incidents involving drugs, and you’re all fired. Each manager will now be responsible for their security teams. If necessary, get a security body to watch your security body. The name of the company might need changing from Price Partners to Price Solo, and you’ll all have to forget the annual bonuses, because I can dissolve the partnership as fast as this.’ He banged on the table.

  ‘The term partners means we’re all in this mess together, which is why you get a cut of the profits.’ He smiled at the couple in charge of Charm. ‘There are people here simply because they work for Price Partners, and they are not involved with current difficulties, yet they need to be watchful. Now, go home, because I’m tired of all this, bored with it. We reopen tomorrow.’

  He sat, and Kate moved closer. ‘You’re so sexy when you’re angry.’

  ‘Am I?’ The tone was dry.

  ‘Yes, definitely.’

  Alex grinned. ‘Let’s go home and explore that possibility.’

  Her peripheral vision caught Amber and Martina hovering in the doorway. The urge to kiss Alex was strong, though she managed to overpower it. Why put on a demonstration for the girls? But she didn’t need to put on a show, because he pounced first. She was so proud of him. Let them see, let them know that they had no chance, because he was hers.

  When she and Alex surfaced from the embrace, Amber and Marty had disappeared.

  ‘One nil,’ Kate murmured.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing. I was just being silly. Take me home, angry boy.’

  They were walking down Dale Street towards a decent coffee house when Kate spotted him, the doctor who had helped save Amelia’s life before pursuing her all the way from London to the house on Merrilocks Road. ‘Alex,’ she whispered.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t look now, but bandit at two o’clock on the other side of the street.’

  Alex bent to fasten a shoelace, peering across the road to where Dr Giles Girling was standing while speaking into his mobile phone. ‘Has he seen us?’ he asked. ‘And what is he still doing in Liverpool? Didn’t you tell me he had something lined up at Great Ormond Street?’

  She shrugged. ‘That’s what he said when Amelia was in hospital. I wonder if he’s stalking me?’

  ‘Don’t joke, Kate. Stalking can get very nasty.’

  He stood up and guided her into the Coffee Pot, where he ordered a latte for Kate and a black as hell espresso for himself. Kate studied him; his mood had darkened like his coffee. ‘You said you were no longer drinking espresso because it puts you in overdrive and makes you snappy,’ she reminded him.

  ‘He’s after you,’ he stated.

  ‘And?’

  He stared at the door. ‘Oh, hell, here he comes. Keep that wedding ring on.’

  Kate placed her left hand on the table so that the platinum band and the engagement ring were on display for all to see.

  Dr Giles walked straight to the counter and ordered his drink, casting not so much as a glance in the couple’s direction. Nothing in his body language appeared awkward, so it was possible that he hadn’t noticed them. Alex, who suddenly felt the need to take charge of the situation, called him over. ‘Dr Girling, please join us.’

  The handsome young man stopped in his tracks. ‘Just a moment,’ he replied, rooting in a pocket to find the price of his coffee.

  ‘I love you, Alex Price,’ Kate whispered. ‘Don’t you dare forget that, ever.’

  ‘If I do forget?’ he asked softly.

  ‘You’ll be dead, and I’ll be in jail.’ She returned his broad grin.

  Giles joined them with his cappuccino. ‘Full fat milk,’ he said. ‘Physician heal thyself?’

  Kate’s smile moved to encompass the newcomer. ‘So what brings you back to these parts?’ she asked.

  He placed the tall cup on their table. ‘I’m at Alder Hey doing the research I’ve been longing to have time for.’ He sat next to Alex.

  Kate noticed that the paediatrician did a double take on seeing her hand. Now he thought they were married.

  ‘I’m interested in childhood cancers,’ he said seriously. ‘Too many die before reaching adulthood or even their teenage years. So I attend sessions at the Liverpool School of Medicine twice a week. London’s OK, and Great Ormond Street would have been special, obviously, but Alder Hey was too good to miss, especially with the research offer contained in the job description.’

  Alex didn’t trust him. ‘So you’re no longer chasing my wife?’

  Kate noted that the tone of his voice was deliberately light.

  Giles shook his head. ‘I’ve met a very pleasant nurse. Early days, but, you know?’ He shrugged. ‘Life’s rather busy for personal encounters.’

  Kate continued to watch him carefully. ‘But unlike me, you are London to the bone. I thought I would never leave London, but Liverpool is great and I met my man.’

  The medic took a sip of coffee. ‘I’ve kept my house, and yes, I might return in time. Are you keeping your house?’

  ‘Not sure. We could make good rent money, though I’m more likely to sell.’

  Giles whistled. ‘Well, that might put a couple of million in your bank account.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘Indeed,’ she replied coldly. ‘Alex and I are considering our options. My parents have a mansion flat, so they won’t need their old home back.’

  Alex could feel the tension. This poor man was suffering because of Kate. Perhaps he laboured under the mistaken concept that Kate owed him love due to the part he’d played in Amelia’s treatment and eventual recovery.

  A panic threatened, but Alex stamped it out. The doctor had too much to lose by stalking Kate and making a nuisance of himself. He might well be struck off if he didn’t leave her alone. ‘We must go, darling,’ he said.

  She held out a hand to shake the intruder’s. ‘Goodbye, Giles,’ she said.

  ‘You’re no longer in Blundellsands?’ he asked.

  ‘No. I live with my husband, and he’s getting the Merrilocks house finished in accordance with my plans.’

  Alex said a short goodbye before following Kate to the door.

  Outside, she awarded Alex a cheeky grin. ‘Now you know how I feel.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Jealous.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Those two women – Amber and Martina. They want to eat you alive, probably with gravy and roast potatoes.’

  ‘Don’t forget the vegetables. They need a balanced diet.’

  She punched him none too gently on his upper arm.

  ‘I shall join the battered husbands’ society,’ he grumbled. ‘Anyway, I made sure they saw me kissing you.’

  ‘So you kissed me for their benefit only?’

  He chuckled. ‘Well, I did enjoy the side effects. Kissing you is fast becoming another hobby of mine.’

  ‘But you couldn’t follow through in a meeting room.’

  ‘No. So let’s go, eh?’

  He was impossible, and that fact was a huge slice of her reason for loving him. Her lover was never boring; he was a treasure and she would treat him as such.

  *

  Max Alton was in love with France; the more he saw of the Loire valley, the better he felt. He should have been born there; it felt like home.

  As he and his reluctant companion made
their way along the meandering queen of French rivers, Max was, according to Trev, losing his grip. ‘You’ve lost your grip. We were supposed to be going to that one village where that kid and her grandparents are meant to be, St Martin’s Flowers or whatever, and we’ve been back and forth like a pair of cockroaches in a kitchen.’

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘Well, how many more bleeding chateaux? Where’s the chateau with the gateau and the fallen Madonna with the big boobies?’

  ‘It wasn’t real, tinhead. It was just a sitcom on TV.’

  ‘None of this is bloody real, either. If I get dragged into another church, I’ll vomit.’

  ‘Well, maybe you’re related to Satan. Sit down a minute.’ They sat on a low wall and watched the river bubbling gently over rocks. ‘Take a gander at that clean water. When did you see the Thames that colour?’

  Trev felt embarrassed on behalf of the only English river he knew. ‘That’s because the Thames is a working river. There’s pretty and there’s useful; give me useful any day of the week. And there’s all kinds in that forest where our tent is, noises in the night, trees and bushes rustling, foxes howling—’

  ‘Barking. They bark – I read it somewhere a while back. There’s urban foxes on the streets of London now.’

  ‘And if you see one vineyard, you’ve seen ’em all. We have to get back with the kid. We need to shove notes into that house we trashed, the one Jim’s old lady was doing up.’

  Max sighed. ‘No, we don’t. We’ve got new names – it says so on our passports. I’m Michael Shipton and you’re Thomas Saunders, and we don’t need to go back.’

  Trev’s jaw dropped. ‘What? Not go back to London? Staying here, living here?’

  Max nodded. ‘Yes, and going straight, going kosher. Look at it. Ever been to Ireland, the southern part?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I thought not.’ Max looked round at the land. The people who worked it were not like Parisians. They were laid back, come day, go day and God bless Sunday. The lowing of beasts with full udders was not allowed to interrupt a leisurely game of boules; fishermen with a promise on the end of a line finished the slow reeling in before returning to work. ‘This place reminds me of what my mum used to say about Ireland. Good soil to work with, and pleasant folk who like a laugh and a pint or two. We’ve been living the wrong life, Trev.’ The only differences between here and Ireland were the language and the weather.