Film Stars Don't Die in Liverpool (12 page)

I thought that might shut him up, but it was the worst thing I could have said, for he then handed me a copy of
Watchtower
, the Jehovah’s Witness newspaper. As he bombarded me with
quotes from the Bible the safety of his driving seemed to suffer, so I got out of the cab at the end of the avenue, feeling it would be better to walk the rest of the way home.

The house looked tranquil from the outside. The milk had been taken in off the step and all the curtains were pulled back; that’s a good sign, I thought as I opened the gate quietly and
started to walk up the path.

I was feeling nervous about going in, and guilty about staying out all night: I shouldn’t have drunk till four in the morning; I shouldn’t have stayed the night at Eileen’s; I
should have been here with Gloria.

Expecting noise and activity, I was greeted by an absolute silence. No one seemed to be at home. The kitchen was empty and in darkness; the daylight was shadowed by the branches of the
dangerous, threatening tree.

‘I heard you get back.’ My mother looked tired when she opened the door and walked the few steps down into the room. She moaned and held her back with her left hand as she went to
the sink with the kettle.

‘Is your back bad?’ I said.

‘Is it bad? It’s like a knife. Just like a knife sticking right up through the ribs. There’s bacon in the fridge if you want, or else have cornflakes.’

‘Gloria,’ I said, but I struggled for the words. ‘Mum . . . is she all right?’

‘Well . . .’ She turned to me and sighed. ‘She’s been asking for you.’

Gloria was looking miserable. Her hair had been brushed back off her forehead and her face had been cleaned of lipstick and eye-shadow, leaving no trace of the hideous mask
which she had painted on the previous evening. Order and sanity were restored to the room. The curtains were wide open, the window was closed and any unpleasant smell had been replaced by Dettol.
The bedlinen had been changed and Gloria was wearing another of my mother’s flowery nightdresses. She would be far happier in a dark and scented bedroom, wearing complete make-up, and her
hair parted at the side with a wavy fringe falling over one eye.

‘I want the make-up bag, Peter.’ She looked at me then slowly looked away.

This was probably the worst humiliation – to be without her make-up and denied her pride and dignity.

‘Why didn’t you come back, Peter?’

‘Because I went to see Eileen. We went to a club . . . and then it was too late.’

‘Okay.’ She didn’t have the energy to be angry, just nodded and repeated, ‘Okay. But can I have my make-up bag? It’s my nails. Please, Peter, I want to clean my
nails.’

‘I didn’t have a wink of sleep last night and neither did Gloria.’ My mother was sitting alone at the kitchen table.

‘I’m sorry.’ Guiltily I sat down next to her. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t get back home.’

‘Look,’ there was a fixed, determined expression on her face, ‘I don’t want to know where you’ve been or what you’ve been doing, but there’s a few
things I’ve got to be telling you. To begin with, I’ll be looking after Gloria from now on.’

‘Where’s Joe and Jessie? Why aren’t they here? I thought they were staying the night to help you out.’

‘They would have done if they’d have known that you wouldn’t be back. Anyway, they’ve got their own family to look after. They can’t be here all the time. I
don’t know what you’re playing at, leaving me alone to cope. Even your father’s done the bunk. He left the house at half past eight to buy a new cap for Australia, now he’ll
be gone all day.’

‘What was it you wanted to tell me?’ I said.

‘Right. The daughter’s been on the phone. She’s leaving America today. She’s coming with her brother. And they’ll arrive sometime tomorrow.’

‘Where are they going to sleep?’

‘We’ll have to get a room booked for them at a hotel, there’s not enough beds for them here.’

‘Are you certain they’re arriving tomorrow?’

‘I’m certain all right. I told her if she wants to see her mother alive ever again, she’d better get here quick.’

I could see that she was relieved that Paulette and Tim would be arriving because in a strange way, for my mother, their presence would make the fact that Gloria was dying upstairs in her house
more legitimate.

She was now less agitated by the trauma and confusion and started to tell me about the previous evening: Gloria had wanted to keep on her make-up; it had become smudged and dirty so my mother
cleaned it off. She’d brushed back her hair and helped her into a clean nightgown. Later, during the early morning hours, Gloria had started to ramble, talking about strange things and going
in and out of a trance-like state.

‘What was she saying?’

‘She was rambling, whispering things, asking where you were. Then she said she wanted to put on a dress.’

‘Gloria doesn’t like dresses!’

‘Well, that’s what she said. I looked through her suitcase, but she’s got nothing nice with her in the way of clothes except a pair of silky pyjamas, and they need a wash. She
hasn’t even got a dress. Did you leave most of her clothes in Lancaster?’

‘No, Mum. Gloria doesn’t have many clothes.’

‘The poor girl. It’s breaking my heart, it is. God love her, she won’t be needing them now.’

Her eyes reddened. The drama and hysteria had taken its toll; she was very upset.

My mother was fond of Gloria. I never knew how much she understood of our relationship, she never asked any questions, but the two women got on well with each other, even though they were worlds
apart.

‘Peter.’

‘What, Mum?’

‘I think we should get the priest. She’s started to pick at herself.’

‘What do you mean – she’s started to pick at herself?’

‘She’s started to pick at herself, as if she’s picking things off her body. They all do that just before the end. There’s only a short time left for her now.’

The sound of the doorbell broke our silence.

‘It’ll be the doctor. I want you to stay in here,’ she said, getting up to answer it. ‘I’ll take him up to Gloria. Why don’t you go and book a room for Tim
and Paulette in one of those hotels by the park?’

I could hear the preliminaries of conversation as my mother brought the doctor into the house.

‘Isn’t it awful? The weather. What a day it’s turning out to be. The heavens have opened.’

‘Yes, it’s surprising the way things have changed over the last week, doctor. We’re into October now.’

‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘We’re into October. Where’s the summer gone?’

Their chattering continued as they climbed up the stairs to Gloria’s room. Everything went quiet except for the sound of the rain.

I stood by the window and looked out towards the tree. It looked harsh. Defiant. The wind lashed against the branches. They lurched from side to side, ducking, fighting, teasing; provoking the
storm. I knew that very soon the tree would certainly fall. The rain streamed down the window clouding my view. I sat down and cried.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

‘Open this bloody door.’ It was Joe, angrily shouting from outside the back door.

‘I’m coming,’ I said and wiped my face on my sleeve.

‘Oh Peter, hurry up,’ Jessie shouted. ‘We’re soaked right through.’

I opened the door and two very wet people pushed past and ran into the house.

‘Why did you come the back way?’ I asked.

‘Because the garden door was open, so we just ran right round, didn’t we, Joe? It’s raining cats and dogs.’

‘And the bleeding car broke down! Just at the end of the road. That’s all I need.’ Joe threw off his wet jacket and sat on the steps to take off his boots.

‘You look terrible, Peter.’ Jessie untied her headscarf and shook it over the sink. ‘Didn’t you get any sleep?’

‘A little bit,’ I said and lit the gas under the kettle. ‘I’ll make you a cup of tea.’

‘Well? How is Gloria?’

‘She’s been rambling and talking to herself.’

‘What was she saying?’

‘I don’t know, Jessie. I wasn’t here.’

‘What do you mean you weren’t here?’ Joe’s eyes narrowed on me. ‘Where were you then?’

‘I needed to get away. I went to see Eileen Connolly at the Belgrave.’

‘Do you mean to say that you spent the night at a casino?’ He was now totally fixed on me and I could feel a fury brewing.

‘No, Joe. Not exactly.’

‘Where did you spend it then?’

‘I wanted to talk. I had to talk to Eileen. We went to a club in Chinatown.’

‘Do you mean to tell me that you left Gloria upstairs in this house with no one except the old girl to look after her, while you went out drinking and spending the night on a club
crawl?’ Joe’s body contorted into a state of absolute rage. ‘I’ve heard some terrible things but that’s the worst. You don’t care about anyone except yourself.
That’s it with you. I don’t want anything more to do with you.’

‘No, it wasn’t like that, Joe. I wanted to talk about Gloria. And anyway, I thought you and Jessie were here.’

‘Of course you thought we’d be here. “Joe’s there so he’ll do my work for me. I can go out and get drunk.” That’s what you thought. You didn’t
think for one minute about Gloria and you certainly didn’t care about me. I’ve got my own house and kids and a business to keep going, without having to take on your problems. Running
you about in the car all week – that’s why it’s packed up now. And you don’t care about that. But the worst thing is the fact that you left Gloria all night while you were
out clubbing.’

‘Now look, Joe,’ I shouted back at him. ‘It just wasn’t like that. Think about what I’ve been going through all week, working every night, trying to get through a
lousy performance in a play in front of hundreds of people, knowing all the time that Gloria is dying. I’m tired, I’m upset. I’m in a state of shock.’

‘You’ll be in an even worse state of shock by the time I’ve finished with you.’

‘Oh calm down,’ I said. ‘The doctor’s in the house.’

‘Well that’s good. You’ll be needing a fucking doctor in the house if I lay my hands on you!’

‘Stop it!’ Jessie pleaded and pointed to the room above. ‘The two of you, please, stop it. Everybody’s in a terrible mood. This business has got to everybody.’

Joe and I stopped shouting and stood silently facing each other.

The kettle came to the boil and, as if announcing the ‘all clear’, slowly whistled away.

‘Just make a cup of tea for yourselves,’ I said. ‘I think I’ll go out for a while.’

While Joe still had his teeth clenched, I thought it the perfect time to go looking for hotel rooms for Tim and Paulette. So I grabbed my coat and left the house.

As I reached the end of the road I could see my brother’s abandoned car. I hurried by, cursing it, then turned the corner into Aigburth Drive and headed for the park.

All my memories of Sefton Park are of hot summer Sundays and women in pretty frocks. I would often spend time there as a child, either being taken by my sister Mary and her husband or following
after John and Frank and their gang. Some days we would take a boat out on the lake, or I would play around the dome-shaped glass house which harboured exotic plants and enormous palm trees which I
was certain came from Africa. At times a travelling funfair would arrive, or maybe a circus, and set itself up on the north playing-fields, along by the avenue of trees.

I walked up the avenue, across the playing fields, past the glass house towards the hotels on the other side of the park.

The first hotel was full. There was a conference taking place and they had been booked up for months; however, if I were to telephone the next day there might be a cancellation. At the second
hotel I was able to make a provisional booking for two single rooms.

It stopped raining on the way home. By the time I reached the end of our road the sun was almost out. As I turned the corner my mother and Jessie were just walking past Joe’s car.

‘We’re just venturing out to the shops while the rain holds off,’ my mother smiled reassuringly. ‘I’m worried about you. You’d better get back to the house
and dry yourself off.’

‘Where’s Joe?’ I asked.

‘He’s upstairs with Gloria, so don’t mention anything to him,’ Jessie said cautiously. ‘You know what he’s like. He’s been working all night. Anyway,
he’ll be all right once he’s had something to eat.’

‘Oh, I don’t know what to buy for the easiest. If the chip shop’s open we’ll bring some back.’ Then in a hushed voice, almost like a conspirator, my mother added,
‘I’ll get you a nice fish.’

Gloria looked at me, smiled and closed her eyes. Joe didn’t speak and neither did I. When I sat on the side of the bed next to her she opened her eyes again.

‘Sit me up, Peter,’ she said.

I helped her to a sitting position, sideways on the bed with her feet on the floor.

‘Burp me, Peter,’ she whispered.

I started to rub her back. Without hesitation, Joe came and sat behind her, lending her support with his body. He and I still hadn’t said a word to each other, but as my hand rubbed
between their backs, not only was I burping Gloria, I was also burping Joe. It was difficult not to find the situation comic. He turned to me and smiled, and the tension between us relaxed. Joe and
I were friends again, and Gloria became more alert.

‘That feels so good,’ she said. ‘How am I doing, Joe?’

‘You’re doing great,’ he replied. ‘Just you carry on.’

She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, pushed her fist ahead of her and put her thumb up, just like a champion, as she always did when things were going well.

Joe left the room. I helped Gloria back into her bed.

‘There’s a fish for Joe and a fish for you,’ my mother said as I sat down at the kitchen table. ‘Jessie, you asked for the fish cake. I’m just
going to fry meself an egg because I didn’t fancy any of that grease. The Chinese chip shop was shut, so we had to go to the Greek.’

‘Oooh, their chips are lovely.’

‘Well, Jessie, you just take more for yourself. I only want a few on a butty.’

‘Oh no. I don’t want any more. Give them to Joe.’

Joe put his paper down to look over his mountain of chips.