For the Love of Liverpool Page 7

  ‘But you’ve a beach in Southport,’ I remind her.

  She gives me a look that makes me feel like something that fell out of a Christmas cracker a couple of years ago. ‘There’s no water,’ she says as if talking to a brain-damaged person. ‘It’s Lucy’s birthday, and Lucy likes water.’ She points to the river. ‘That is water.’

  She’s right – it’s definitely water. This is one gorgeous child, strawberry blonde hair, peaches and cream skin, bright blue eyes.

  The beautiful mother is dragging two little girls away from the river’s edge. It’s clear that Lucy’s affection for water is shared by her friend, because both children look dampish. They arrive. ‘Sorry,’ the mother says.

  I tell her it’s fine, but I have to go now because I’m meeting someone.

  Unfortunately, Libby has taken a liking to me. ‘Don’t go,’ she begs. ‘Sandcastles. We have flags.’

  Well, what can I do? Seduced by the promise of flags and banana yogurt, I descend the steps and am handed another job on a plate – well, in a bucket – and I am now chief architect of this newly established company. Unlike Southport sand, this stuff is actually wet, so I don’t need to work hard at shaping a palace fit for Princess Libby.

  ‘Sand lets water soak in cos it’s all parcel cells,’ Libby informs me.

  ‘Is it?’ I ask.

  ‘She means particles. Daddy told her about particles,’ says the mother, busily drying off the two intrepid would-be swimmers who had attempted to conquer the Mersey, the Irish Sea and, no doubt, the Atlantic.

  Although I have to get to Kate, first I talk to Libby’s mother. She says her job is parenthood, and she earns a living by twisting arms to collect money for charity, so I give her a card. ‘Ah, you’re Alex Price, then?’ There’s a gleam in her eye, and I know she’ll be hitting the Price charity department with a big stick.

  ‘Yes, I am. Libby, I must go now. If Mummy lets me know you’re coming again, I’ll bring my dogs to meet you.’

  It’s the innocence in the eyes, isn’t it? So pure, so clever, so endearing, this little girl. And I suddenly know I want children of my own, and that their mother must be Kate Owen. Well, it seems I’m taking great strides in the emotional department . . . What was it Tim said? ‘One day, someone will come along and drag the rug from under your feet.’ The someone has finally arrived. Kate.

  Kate Owen’s temper was straining on its leash. ‘How did you find me?’ she roared for the third time. ‘And don’t say you used medical records, because I’ve changed my name as well as my appearance. All that aside, I haven’t yet registered with a local doctor. So out with it, Giles.’

  He took a backward step. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You will be. I can make sure you lose your job.’

  The young doctor hung his head. ‘You must have realized how I felt about you. I loved you then, and I love you now. There are no pills to cure this.’

  Kate shook her head in dismay. ‘You were my anchor, or my spine, or my rock – whatever. I talked to no one else apart from the police. It was the end of my bad life as long as my baby survived; then, when I knew she was going to make it, my good life began. You were part of that, and I’m grateful. You helped me out of hell and into the light, but I don’t love you. Giles, you were a good friend – no more than that. And I’m . . . well, with someone else now.’

  The front doorbell sounded. To Kate’s astonishment it was Alex. His arrival was a miracle, but she had no time to explain why. ‘Thank goodness. Come in, and go along with what I say. I’m in a bit of a pickle,’ she whispered. She led him into her Jill-of-all-trades living space. ‘Alex Price, this is Dr Giles Girling, paediatrician. He assisted the surgeon throughout Amelia’s operations when we were still in London.’

  Each man awarded the other a perfunctory nod, but neither said a word.

  ‘Alex is my fiancé,’ she went on. ‘We plan to have an autumn or winter wedding, don’t we, sweetheart? I want crunchy leaves or snow under my feet.’

  ‘Sweetheart’ nodded. Life today had been somewhat odd thus far.

  ‘Giles may be a consultant in the not too distant future.’

  ‘Well done,’ was Sweetheart’s reply.

  ‘Your shoes are sandy, darling.’

  He glanced down at his feet. ‘I’ve been on the beach with some children.’

  ‘Lovely.’ She stared hard at Giles. ‘If I wish, I can make sure you’re awarded no consultancy. Your career lies in my hands, so don’t forget that. For the fourth and final time, how did you discover my location? Answer me.’

  It was the doctor’s turn to look at his feet. ‘I bought it.’

  ‘From a Met officer?’

  ‘I think he might have been a policeman, yes.’

  Kate exploded. ‘I shall inform the inspector in charge of my case, and that sergeant of his will be discarded immediately. But he will still know my address, so I now have to sell up, and I might well lose money because of you. It means another change of name, too. You have gone too far, and you know it.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Giles mumbled. ‘I didn’t think.’

  ‘Well I hope you manage to think in theatre when next removing the top of an infant’s skull.’ She was now in thunder mode. ‘I shall never, ever forgive you for this. Even if I decide to keep your name out of things at this juncture, I shall continue to hold the power to drop you in it at some future date. There’s also a chance that the policeman might mention your name. Get out, and don’t come back. I mean it, Giles – go!’

  ‘You heard the lady,’ Alex growled, pleased to see her in a very unladylike morph.

  Giles Girling slunk out of the house. The two remaining occupants were quiet for several minutes before Kate moved to pick up her phone. After pressing just one button, she spoke. Her hand was not quite steady. ‘Inspector Allen? Yes, yes, it’s Kate. Quite well, thank you. Yourself? Oh good.’

  Alex came to stand beside her, placing an arm round her slender waist.

  ‘How many people have my details? Ah, just as I thought – you and your bagman. Well, I’ve been found.’ She paused while receiving a lengthy answer. ‘Then it must be DS Makin. The guy said he’d paid for the information. What? He thought it could have been a policeman, but who knows? What if it was a journalist? You do realize Jim’s right-hand men may well be searching for me from jail? Yes, I’ll change the SIM card and send my new number by courier. Right. I’ll await your call.’

  She broke the connection and sat on the sofa, all fire draining from her. ‘Put the kettle on, Alex,’ she begged. ‘It might not have been the sergeant, just someone good at breaking private passwords on computers. I hope the inspector realizes that.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’ he asked.

  ‘I shall sit here and wait for you to bring me a cup of tea. Sorry. I’m being obtuse again. The inspector will sort everything out, and I’ll take it from there.’

  He remained where he was, as if riveted to the spot. ‘Will you leave Liverpool?’

  She awarded him a cheeky wink. ‘No. I’m changing my name to Price.’

  Alex went off to make tea as commanded for the queen of Merrilocks Road. Their little girl would have dark hair and blue or brown eyes. She would also have an excellent mother, though her potential father’s hands shook as he waited for the kettle to boil. Plain biscuits. Kate didn’t take sugar, but she needed some carbohydrate after the shock she’d just endured. She was changing her name to Price? Was this fear or excitement? He had absolutely no bloody idea.

  ‘I wish you’d come earlier,’ she said as he placed the tray on a small coffee table. ‘Though I wasn’t expecting you at all, so I must be grateful for small mercies.’

  He handed her a cup of tea with two rich tea fingers in the saucer. It occurred to him that he needed not only to confess his own escape plans; it was also necessary to tell her that he knew details of her history. ‘There you go. Semi-sweet biscuits will settle your stomach.’ He had learnt that line from Other Mother.
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  He sat on the sofa, deliberately leaving room between them. He didn’t relish the idea of being on the receiving end of her wrath. After waiting while she dunked her biscuits, he cleared his throat. ‘I did some thinking. This has all been so fast . . . I thought it would be better if I gave us some space. Well, that is to say, gave me some space.’

  ‘Oh?’

  He inhaled deeply, remembering times when he’d been sent to sit outside the head teacher’s office after breaking the rules. ‘I’ve just packed my cases for an extended stay abroad. I’ve . . . I’ve got to go and see some Americans about a partnership deal for Chillex.’

  Kate’s jaw closed with a snap that was almost audible. ‘Don’t leave me,’ she begged. ‘I need you here now that Giles has ruined my new identity. I have no way of knowing if I’m safe or not. The only good thing is that at least Amelia is fine. Even the police don’t know her whereabouts.’

  This was far removed from the reaction he’d expected. Phew. He’d got away with it. He softened his tone. ‘All right, the Americans can wait. This is far more important than that. I won’t leave you, now that I know what’s happened. That copper might sell your address a dozen times over, especially if he gets the push for unacceptable behaviour.’

  ‘Yes, that’s only too possible. So I can’t stay here in my bolthole any longer. So where do I go?’

  ‘With two lion-sized dogs? Where are they, by the way?’

  ‘In the back garden – it’s secure.’

  He smiled broadly, because she’d forgiven him without saying so.

  ‘You’re coming with me. We’ll get contractors round here to finish off this place to your specifications, and I’ll hire a personal bodyguard for you.’

  Kate remained silent for a few seconds. ‘No,’ she whispered eventually.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I’m ninety per cent sure that my husband collected his gang members from the ranks of security people. That’s why I have Castor and Pollux. Dogs can’t be bribed with money, and you’ll notice that I’ve recently blanked off the letterbox in my front door here. Dogs like food, and baddies poison it. A human bodyguard is the last thing I need.’

  Alex nodded. ‘I never thought of that.’

  ‘You haven’t lived my life. You should try my shoes for size some time – though possibly not the stilettos. It was a shitty marriage built on lies – his lies. He was a man with no conscience, and no empathy whatsoever.’

  ‘A sociopath, then.’ It was not a question.

  ‘Very much so. He almost killed our daughter.’

  Alex realized that he was holding his breath. Would she? Wouldn’t she?

  Kate grabbed a cushion and clutched it to her chest. ‘There were guns hidden all over the house. The revolver in the sideboard was always loaded, so I took that one. Amelia was unconscious after bouncing off the wall – a proper wall, not the plasterboard partitions they have in modern houses. Real bricks.’

  ‘I have a modern house with real bricks throughout.’

  She glanced at him. ‘You would.’ After a short pause, she continued. ‘I made sure he saw his own death. He was coming towards me when I pulled the trigger. I blew his face off.’

  ‘I know.’ Alex’s voice was almost as soft as a whisper.

  She turned and stared at him. ‘Who told you?’

  He had prepared and honed the answer to what he hoped was perfection. He needed to protect Tim, the lad who had saved him, the man who had helped him for years. ‘After you told me you were glad he’d died, I suspected that you might have killed him. Reams of microfiche later, I found you in the library. Amelia was with you in the photograph, but her face was blanked out.’

  ‘So was Jim’s,’ she said. ‘He haunts me sometimes.’

  Alex blinked dampness from his eyes. ‘I’ll look after you.’

  ‘I don’t want you to feel you have to.’

  He jumped to his feet. ‘Pack your stuff now. Don’t give yourself time to think – I’ll think for you. I’ll have Brian bring the dog van round. We have your car and mine, so we’ll get the dogs in the van with some of your things, and our boots and rear seats will carry a fair amount. We can manage the move as long as we stay calm.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘What are the arrangements? Do we share a room?’

  ‘No. You’ll be in the roof with the bats and the pigeons.’

  ‘Another of your pathetic jokes, Alex Price?’

  He nodded, chuckling. ‘There’s a small suite of rooms up there. Bedroom, bathroom, sitting room and kitchen.’ He grinned broadly. ‘The dogs can go up with you, or stay down in the mud room with mine. I find that dogs tend to make their own arrangements, so we’ll let them choose.’

  For a moment she wavered and then made her decision. ‘OK, boss, let’s do it.’

  They filled all her suitcases before resorting to black binbags. She found a teddy with one eye and alopecia. ‘This is William,’ she announced.

  ‘Shakespeare?’

  ‘Wordsworth. For a Lakeland poet, he did a good job on Westminster Bridge.’

  ‘You miss London?’ he asked.

  She walked towards him, raised a hand and touched his face. ‘Not as badly as I’d miss you. And I like Liverpool, because it’s a more manageable size. From the erosion, I can see New Brighton, the Wirral and Wales. And the sunsets are fabulous.’

  ‘You won’t see any of those places from my house.’

  ‘I’ll see you.’ Her hand moved over his newly sprouted facial hair. ‘All that testosterone,’ she mumbled. ‘I’m sure we could find a use for it.’

  He was a hopeless case, and he knew it, knew he’d been hers from the moment that heel had snapped. ‘Slowly, Kate.’

  ‘I don’t do slowly.’

  ‘I noticed.’

  ‘When I go on a reading spree, I get through three books in two days.’

  ‘I need to take things at my pace, Kate. We have to wing it until I’m ready to tell you what happened to me when I was eleven years old. I’ll know when it’s time to let you walk through my deepest, darkest secret.’

  ‘Did you kill anyone?’

  ‘No.’

  She took both his hands in hers. ‘Was it horrendous? Do you still dream about it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s a problem we share. In my nightmare, I shoot him, but he remains intact and grabs me. All I can think about is my daughter, but he has me trapped, so I can do nothing for her.’

  ‘While I see a room – a whole house – filling with blood. I’m a good swimmer, but blood’s thicker than water. Tim drags me out of the red stuff.’

  ‘Oh, Alex.’ She placed her arms on his shoulders, clasping hands behind his neck.

  ‘We’re a mess,’ he whispered.

  Well, I’m installed. Alex is downstairs talking to the two Bees.

  This is where Alex’s brother stays when he comes from Australia for a visit. Stephen is his name, I believe. It is quite large and airy, with several Velux windows allowing light into kitchen and bathroom, while both bedroom and living room have large dormers perched on the roof of the house. I’m home. I’m home with Alex. Sometimes a bad thing happens – poor, love-struck Dr Giles was a bad thing – yet turns in a matter of minutes into something excellent. Alex wants to take care of me.

  I’ve been through testing by the two Bees. Brian wanted to know whether I needed any decorating, while Brenda was all a-fluster about my cleaning. She wasn’t pleased when I said I’d be doing my own housework, but I told her it’s just the way I am, and nothing personal. In truth, it’s my OCD making me worry about her altering my pattern, but I don’t know her well enough to admit that.

  Alex has asked me to dress in a smart suit, because he’s taking me to Chester – rather exciting, as there are Roman ruins there. He’s acting somewhat strangely, and I can’t work out whether he’s excited or scared. Oh well, I had better just go along with him, because the dogs are settled wit
h Alex’s four, and all are out in the back ‘helping’ Brian with the compost heap. Poor Brian. Enduring help from six dogs must be a chore.

  I’m wearing fine mohair in charcoal with a cerise blouse and gloves, black shoes and bag. He’s waiting for me in the hall, and he tells me I look lovely. So does he, but I just smile. He has to know how women covet him.

  Chester is special. It’s walled apart from one small section, and it’s next to the River Dee. There are The Rows, which have tiers of shops stacked one on top of another, and although much of the city was renovated in the nineteenth century, the work remained faithful to the Jacobean period, right up to the crazy, twisted chimneys.

  Alex tells me that there are three levels in most rows, and that the lowest lies below pavement and road, where there are still Roman remains. I’m awestruck. The legions were here in this beautiful place, and evidence endures of central heating systems and crude bathroom arrangements. I feel right in Chester, as right as I do in Liverpool, and no longer miss the London Eye, Tower Bridge and the Thames. Some Londoners to this day view the north as flat cap, whippet and ferret territory, but how wrong can they be?

  My companion is nervous, and it’s nothing to do with the way women size him up as we walk along the row towards the church of St Peter. Alex stops outside a jeweller’s. He tells me that this is our pretend wedding day and only the two Bees will know the truth. What? I blink in confusion. Has he gone mad?

  ‘If the world believes we’re married, you will automatically be far, far safer. It’s well known how far I go to look after my employees, so my wife will be even better protected. It’s the best way I can think of to minimize the danger you’re in.’

  I’m still gobsmacked.

  And we are still standing outside the jeweller’s. Walking behind me with his hands on my shoulders, Alex guides me inside.

  The man asks if he can help us.

  I try to smile, but I feel beyond help.

  Alex asks for wedding and engagement rings before turning to me. ‘Gold or white metal, my love?’