A Daughter's Choice (20 page)

‘Jack's gone too.'

‘Jack! I didn't know he was home.'

She rested her back against the sink and told him what she knew before adding, ‘Me and your Pops have been rushed off our feet. Aunt Kitty's in bed. She had a funny turn apparently.'

Ben stilled and his face wore the expression of an animal sensing danger. ‘Ma never takes to her bed,' he rasped.

‘Well, she's in bed now. You know, Ben,' she said without pausing, ‘you really hurt me last time we met. But I realise now you've probably made Rita up to make me feel jealous.'

‘You ask our Mick about Rita. I think he found her quite attractive.'

‘
He
did, not you?' Sarah dried her hands and went over to him and put her arms round his neck. ‘I'm not going to get angry with you. Now tell me what Rita's like?'

Ben hesitated, wanting to kiss her so badly, to run his hands all over her body, to love her, to take her – but he remembered what Mick had said about playing hard to get. Almost as if he had conjured his brother up the door opened and Mick entered. Immediately Ben and Sarah stepped away from each other.

But he did not appear to have noticed anything. ‘Hello, Sarah. What are you doing here?' he said, taking off his cap and putting it down on a chair.

She sighed and said, ‘You tell him, Ben.' And reaching for her handbag, she took out a tin of Nivea and began to cream her hands which were not their usual smooth selves.

Mick looked at his brother. ‘Well?'

‘Sarah's practising discretion but apparently Jack's been here and gone, Eileen's at her gran's and Ma's in bed. It'll be us doing the guests' supper drinks tonight, mate.'

‘Ma never takes to her bed,' said Mick, frowning. ‘I'm going up to see her.'

‘I was just thinking of it,' said Ben, and moved towards the door.

Sarah placed the lid on the Nivea and hurried after them. They met John on the stairs, looking grim again. ‘Have you told them?' he said. Sarah nodded. ‘I'm going to telephone your parents and have a word with them about Jack,' he said.

‘Right!' the three of them replied and carried on upstairs.

Kitty was sitting in bed propped up against a couple of pillows. The light was on but she was not reading or sewing but just gazing into space.

‘You all right, Ma?' said Mick, sitting on the side of the bed and covering one of her hands with his.

She focused on his face but did not smile. ‘Jack said I was reaping what I sowed in Katie leaving – and now he's gone too,' she murmured. ‘Where did I go wrong, Mick? I just did what I thought was right. I gave out love and worked my fingers to the bone, doing my best to make your lives happy.' She sounded bewildered. ‘Perhaps Katie'll never return? I feel like chucking my hand in right now.'

‘You're tired, Ma. You've had a bad few weeks. Things'll look better in the morning.'

‘That was what I used to think but I don't know any more.' She moved her head restlessly on the pillow.

Ben said, ‘Remember our Teddy going missing and turning up just like a bad penny? Our Mick did the same, except he came back from the dead! You've just got to keep your chin up, Ma.'

‘I'll try,' she sighed. ‘But it isn't easy at my age.'

Sarah looked shocked. ‘Never confess to being old! That's what Mammy says. I'll bring you up a hot drink and you just think happy thoughts. I remember you saying that to me once when I stayed here.'

‘All right, love,' said Kitty in a docile voice, and closed her eyes.

‘Hell!' said Mick, as they went downstairs. ‘She's not a bit herself.'

‘We've got to find Katie,' said Ben. ‘It's no good us sitting around waiting for her to get in touch. We don't know what she's up to or what she's thinking. She might believe she's not wanted here any more.'

‘So where do we start?' said Sarah.

Ben looked at her and could not forget the things she had said about Katie. ‘I couldn't trust you,' he said abruptly.

‘Thanks very much!' She sounded hurt. ‘What do you think I'm going to do to her?'

‘You just mightn't crack on if you find her.'

‘Shut up, you two,' hissed Mick, smiling as he made way for one of the guests to pass and saying, ‘Good evening.'

None of them spoke about Katherine again until they were in the kitchen and the men were eating their dinner. Ben took from a drawer the well-thumbed Southport Guide. ‘Right, Mick! How are we going to do this? Do we let Sarah help us?'

‘If she wants to and has the time, working here. We'll get there quicker if the three of us share the task. Pass me the Guide.'

Ben did so and Mick opened the book and ripped pages out.

‘What the hell are you doing?' said Ben, frowning as his brother passed him several sheets. ‘This isn't the best way. We'll be coming back on ourselves. It would be easier to take a street or an area each.'

‘That'd mean more time sorting it out. Have you seen how many hotels and boarding houses there are?'

‘Of course I have.'

‘There you are then,' said Mick. ‘Just take what you've got and do what you can with it. And while we're all walking round, who knows? We just might spot Katie and then we'll take it from there.'

‘Have yer gorrany puppies?'

‘No. You'd see them if we had any,' said Katherine, resting her elbows on the counter and wondering when Celia would return with Mrs Evans from town. She had promised to be back well before Katherine went to work that evening at one of the pubs down the road. By slapping on make-up and putting up her hair, wearing her tight black skirt, white satin blouse and best high heels, she had persuaded the owner that she was older than she was and he had taken her on to help out in the bar. Celia did not approve but Mrs Evans had surprised them both by chuckling when Katherine had paraded in front of them, saying she was as good as the films and that it wouldn't do Celia any harm to do something with herself.

‘Will yer be gerrin' any in?' said the youth.

‘There's none down in the book.'

‘When d'yer think yer'll be gerrin' any in?'

‘I don't know.'

‘Well, when yer do gerrany in, d'yer know if they're gonna be girls or fellas?'

Katherine could not believe it. ‘I'll be able to tell you when we get any in,' she said slowly.

He beamed. ‘Right yerrah, lah. I'll see yer on Saturday.' He left the shop.

Katherine groaned and dropped her head on her arms. She and Celia had been here two months now and this was only her fifth stint working in the shop but that did not mean she had been sitting twiddling her thumbs for the rest of the time. Decorating and sorting out upstairs had taken some doing and she had marvelled how in this day and age, when high-rise flats were going up all over the place and people were buying televisions and washing machines, they should be living in conditions that were more thirties than fifties.

‘Can I have some cuttlefish, ducks?'

‘We've got no fish,' she said, without lifting her head. ‘I don't know when we'll be getting any in or what kind they'll be if we do.'

‘Are you feeling all right? You've got some on that shelf just behind you.'

Katherine lifted her head and the old lady in the black straw hat with artificial magnolias on its brim smiled at her. ‘You're new, aren't you? I want it for Bluey, me budgie. He sharpens his beak on it. It's that white bony-looking stuff. He can talk, you know.'

‘What does he say?' Katherine's eyes scanned the shelf behind her and after a ‘To your right a bit', from the old lady, she found the cuttlefish.

‘And some millet. He says “Pieces of eight”.'

‘Isn't that what parrots say?' said Katherine, finding the millet.

‘Two sprays,' said the old lady, and smiled roguishly. ‘He's a bit of a wild one and I didn't want him saying “Who's a pretty boy then?” He's a very good-looking budgie, but pretty …?' She wrinkled her nose.

Katherine smiled as she wrapped the woman's purchases in newspaper. ‘He doesn't sit on your shoulder, does he?'

‘Yes! And he nibbles me ear.' She placed some money on the counter and waved as she went out.

Katherine fluttered her fingers, trying to imagine a wild ear-nibbling budgie and wondering what Ben and Kitty would have made of her customers so far. A lump came into her throat. She kept meaning to telephone but something held her back. What would she say to them? What questions would they ask? She had thought of writing but whenever she took out a writing pad Celia seemed to be there, hovering at her shoulder, asking who she was writing to. When she told her there would be a look on her face which upset Katherine and completely put her off what she was doing.

She knew it was emotional blackmail but away would go the writing pad while she promised herself she would get it out again when her mother was not around. The trouble was that when Celia wasn't there, then Katherine was either at the pub, doing housework or in the shop. Sometimes she would settle, only for Mrs Evans to ask her to do something for her. The old lady was much happier these days and took an interest in all they did. She was still grumpy at times because the pain didn't go away but at least her granddaughter had said that their being there had made her life that little bit easier.

Katherine went over to the window and looked out. The angora rabbits had been sold and so had some hamsters and puppies. Now they had kittens, three black and white and one completely black but for a white patch on its tiny nose. She picked him up, cuddling him against her neck as she gazed out of the window.

A dark-haired youth dressed in a black leather jacket came out of the post office opposite and walked past the optician's. There was something familiar about him and as he disappeared from her sight Katherine went and stood on the step for a better look. He was passing the china store now and had a canvas bag with pockets on it slung over his shoulder. Her eyes narrowed and suddenly she was thinking of that dance at the Grafton. He stood looking in the window of the photographer's shop for a moment before going inside.

Katherine waited for him to reappear but he still had not when another customer arrived and she had to deal with him. He wanted corn for his pigeons and could have won prizes for the length of time he talked non-stop about his birds, ships, and life in general. At last she got rid of him and followed him outside. She could see no sign of the youth in the black leather jacket and presumed she had missed him. ‘Damn!' she muttered, thinking it might have been fun meeting him again if he was who she thought he was.

‘Watcha doin'?' said Donny, making a sudden appearance.

She glanced down at his thin face and, smiling, said, ‘Don't be nosy.'

He looked affronted. ‘I won't learn nuthin' if I'm not nosy. Me granddad says there's millions of questions he doesn't know the answers to, and he knows all sorts of things! He remembers there being wounded soldiers from the first war in his ol' school when he was my age.'

‘How old is your granddad?'

‘Old. He's got wrinkles round his eyes and his hair's all white. Although he sez it's been like that since he was in his twenties. He can still kick a ball. He works at Bibby's down by the docks but he's off at the moment because a machine chopped the top off two of his fingers.'

Katherine winced. ‘Your poor granddad.'

‘He's OK. He'll probably get some money for it and then he says we can have a little holiday.'

‘Lucky you!' She thought how she had spent all her savings, except for seven and sixpence, on a new bed and bedding, a chest of drawers and a beautiful china po with roses round it for emergencies. There was no way she would use the enamel bucket Celia said they could make do with indoors at night. Even using the po made her feel like she had come down in the world, but using a bucket or descending the outside steps into the dark yard was something she would not countenance.

‘Is there anything yer want me to do?' Donny looked anxiously up at her. ‘I wanna earn some spends.'

Katherine's expression softened. Their arrival had made him redundant. ‘You're good at doing messages, aren't you?'

‘Yer want me to go somewhere?'

‘The photographer's. I want you to go inside and see if there's a fella in there wearing a black leather jacket and carrying a bag over his shoulder.'

His eyes brightened. ‘Is he a Russian spy? D'yer want me to follow him?'

‘Don't get carried away,' she said, a quiver in her voice. ‘Just do as I tell you. Although you could ask the owner if he knows if the fella's name is Patrick?'

‘Yer knows him?' He sounded disappointed.

‘I might. When you come back I'll give you a penny, a biscuit and a drink of pop.'

His thin chest swelled and he made to dart across the road but she pulled him back by his Fair Isle pullover. ‘Don't you ever look both ways?'

A cyclist went past. ‘I knew he was there,' snorted Donny. ‘I saw him out of the corner of me eye.'

‘Maybe. But just slow down. It's not a matter of life and death.'

He pulled a face and was off. She watched him a moment and then another customer appeared wanting rabbit food.

Donny returned ten minutes later and in that time Katherine wondered if she had run quite mad in sending him in the first place. Did she yearn for the past that much, that even the sight of a vaguely familiar face from happier times caused her to behave in such a way?

‘He's gone! I told the man you was a girlfriend,' panted Donny when he returned. ‘He helps the man take photos of weddings and babies and develops the pictures himself. He'll be back later.'

‘You didn't tell him where you'd come from?'

‘Not me. I told him yous was from the pet shop. Where's me pop?'