The Liverpool Trilogy (40 page)

The phone rang, and she ignored it. When it stopped the screeching, its echo bounced off walls for several seconds. Oh, God. That might have been Alan. She was going to do a 1471 when it rang again, and she snatched it up immediately. It was her accountant. ‘Did you ring a minute ago?’ she asked.

He hadn’t rung earlier, but he wanted to know what was wrong.

And she let it all out, because Eric had been Howie’s pal, and she trusted him. When she’d delivered the tale, he announced his intention to come round within the hour. ‘Thanks, Eric,’ she said. At least she wouldn’t be on her own. She hated being alone, even in Blackpool, and that was a proper house.

Meanwhile, she set out to search the place thoroughly. She looked in every bathroom, in every cupboard and under all the beds. This time, she kept very quiet so that she might hear any movement. He wasn’t here; he had abandoned her because she was ordinary, because she liked ordinary, boring things like bingo and dancing. But would any man kill himself because he hated line-dancing? It was a mystery. She changed her clothes and went downstairs. The woman in the Boule Miche could sod off.

The woman in the Boule Miche was chomping her way through a second Danish. Glenys loved her food, and it showed, as she was one of the unfortunates whose measurements fluctuated in accordance with the status of her willpower. ‘I had no breakfast,’ she told her companion.

Lucy grinned. Her breakfast was all over the tree house, but she didn’t want to complain.

‘You look very smug,’ Glenys remarked.

‘Yes.’

‘Yes? What the bloody hell does yes mean?’

‘Yes, I slept with him, and yes, I didn’t get much sleep.’

The lawyer drained her coffee mug. ‘You little devil. Any good?’

‘Unnervingly so. I thought he’d be tentative, but . . .’ She raised her shoulders. ‘I was wrong. He’s spent thousands on the house, even bought an eighteenth-century four-poster. French. It has a new mattress, of course. We don’t want any foreign bugs.’

Glenys shook her head morosely. ‘I’m going to advertise. Virginity, free to good home, taker collects. What do you think?’

‘You don’t love yourself, Glen. That’s a pretty face, so use it. Go to a gym, eat a bit less, lose thirty pounds and practise on your trainer. Many of those young men who train women offer their services. Then, when you’ve practised, find a husband.’

Glenys thought about that before announcing that she didn’t want anything that lived in. She’d much prefer something that served its purpose before going back to its own flat, house, mother, wife, whatever. Kids she could manage without. They brought with them washing, ironing, cooking and homework, and were not commensurate with a lifestyle that included theatre, restaurant meals and a very good brandy. What she really needed was somebody who’d take her home, tie her up and lecture her in Latin.

‘You’re terrible,’ Lucy said.

‘And you’re an adulterer – technically, at least.’

‘I don’t do technical. I can’t even change a fuse. Oh, I forgot to tell you – Lizzie’s married.’

Glenys’s jaw dropped. ‘You forgot? How can you forget? Is it that cardio-thoracic bod from next door?’

‘Yes. And I think it’ll work, because they’re good friends. And she can change a fuse. It was one of those sudden and beautiful things, yet they act as if they’ve known each other for ever. I think it’s possible to remember someone from the future.’

Glenys tutted. ‘You don’t half talk some crapola, Lucy.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Mrs Styles is very late.’

‘Yes, I noticed that too.’

‘And I think that daft bloke of yours is flattening his nose against the window of a dump where the coffee’s three quid a cup and counting.’

Lucy turned and looked at him. It was clear that she couldn’t take him anywhere, because he had no idea of how to behave. Perhaps he needed a playpen? She beckoned, and he came in. Waitresses and counter staff stood still while he approached. ‘Don’t worry,’ Lucy advised the whole establishment. ‘They let him out just for one day.’

He sat down and winked at a very pretty girl in a frilled apron. ‘Do they let you take your uniform home?’ he asked. ‘Because you could use the apron and the— Ouch.’

‘She doesn’t take the ouch home,’ Lucy said with mock severity while delivering a second slap to his hand. ‘Bring him a cappuccino with sprinkles, dear. And allow me to apologize for my father’s behaviour.’

Glenys fled to the ladies’ room, a hand on her mouth failing to hold back laughter.

‘Is she all right?’ David asked innocently.

‘She just needs somebody to take her home, tie her up and talk to her in Latin.’

‘Oh. That’s OK, then. I can do the Latin, but I’m no good with knots. Anyway, I’m spoken for. Give us a kiss.’

‘I can’t. You’re my father.’

‘Right. Now, where’s Mrs Wotsit?’ He smiled insanely at the girl who brought his coffee. She placed it on the table, withdrew her hand quickly, and dashed away. David took a sip, allowing the moustache deposited by froth to remain on his face. He then asked had the earth moved for Lucy last night, as she wiped his face with her napkin.

‘Yes,’ she snapped.

‘You can’t wait here all day, Louisa.’ He picked up a menu, saw the prices and put it back. ‘Daylight robbery,’ he muttered.

Glenys returned. She greeted David before informing Lucy that she had phoned the house, and there had been no answer. ‘I’ll try the mobile.’ She dialled. ‘Hello? Mrs Styles? It’s Glen— it’s Gloria. Yes, that’s right. I’m waiting in the Boule Miche.’ A long pause followed this introduction.

Glenys frowned. ‘Really? Oh, dear. Shall I visit you at home, then? I may be able to shed a little light on your predicament.’ She tapped the table with her fingers while Trish Styles spoke. ‘Good grief, that’s terrible. Try to calm down. Did you say second on the right? Thanks. I’ll be there shortly.’ She severed the connection. ‘He’s gone walkabout. She was up by eight o’clock, and there’s been no sign of him. The poor woman’s halfway out of her mind. She found a noose hanging from a tree, and a chair nearby. Alan’s the only one who could have put it there.’

David immediately became serious. He had come along as chauffeur and cabaret, because he knew full well that Louisa was taking today seriously, but he could no longer lighten her load by acting the fool. The father of her children had absented himself after preparing a noose, presumably as a tool for suicide. ‘Will he be in a pub, Louisa?’

‘I’ve no idea. Lizzie says he’s stopped drinking, but it’s one day at a time, isn’t it? I’m coming with you, Glenys.’

‘And I’m coming with her.’ He pointed at Lucy before going to pay the bill. A noose? Why would a man kill himself while living with a woman who had millions? Money was important to Alan. David told the girl at the till to keep the change for tips, then followed his two companions into the street.

He tailed Glenys until she found the address. An electric gate slid open, and both cars entered the grounds. They drove at funereal pace until they reached the columned entrance. The place was so grand and sombre that it put one in mind of an impossible ménage à trois comprising a palace, a museum and a crematorium. ‘It’s massive,’ Lucy breathed. ‘Makes Tallows look like a cottage. I’m scared, and I don’t know why.’

‘Stay cool, love. We’ve got to find your old man after Glenys has done the difficult deed. Shall we wait here?’

She pondered. ‘No. I want to be there for Glenys and for Trish. And you can be there for me.’ They left the car and walked hand in hand towards uncharted territory.

Avoiding poor Trish hadn’t been difficult. He’d just walked round the exterior walls of the house, making sure that wherever she was, he wasn’t. He couldn’t face her. Would he be able to face her after the meeting in the Boule Miche? She didn’t go. But the meeting came to her, and Lucy was on the committee. He’d heard her voice, and he was going to hell in a muck wagon; going to prison today. Underneath the calm exterior, Lucy was after revenge.

There was nowhere to run. He wished he’d stayed away from the house, wished he could be with Damien, because he was the only human allowed to embrace the haughty, ill-tempered miniature camel. Were they camels? He’d never bothered to find out. He thought they might be from South America rather than Africa, but he wasn’t sure. But at this moment, he needed to bury his face in that woolly and slightly smelly neck. Damien knew about suffering – it was in his eyes.

Leaving the grounds of Styles was out of the question. First, he would be seen. Second, he had a tenner in his pocket and, for the first time since his op, was completely devoid of hope. He would buy a half-bottle of good whisky if he got out. Not that it mattered. One small binge could make little difference, while going to jail in a state of sobriety was not a good idea.

He sat on the ground and leaned against the building. There was no way out, since Howard Styles had been extraordinarily thorough when it came to security. Wherever Alan went, he would be seen. If he ran full pelt towards the rope, those inside would cut him down in good time. There was only one thing for it. He had to go in and face the music. Not yet, though. No, not just yet.

It took them half an hour to return Trish to a state in which she could absorb and respond to what was being said. At the beginning, she was convinced that Lucy had come to get Alan and take him away, while Dr Vincent intended to section him as insane. ‘He doesn’t drink any more,’ she screamed several times.

‘I’m a cancer doctor,’ David explained, ‘and I—’

‘He hasn’t got cancer. My husband was the one with cancer.’

‘I work with children. Mostly leukaemia.’

‘He’s not a child.’ Trish glared at Glenys. ‘Why did you fetch these people here? I thought you were something to do with Howie’s business, a bit of conveyancing work or something of that nature. False pretences, you used to get in my house. You even changed your name.’

Strangely, it was the wife who managed to comfort her. ‘Glenys thought there was something you should know about Alan. I feel the same. Dr Vincent is my fiancé – he drove me here. In a car, not with a whip,’ she added in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. But the lame joke fell on stony ground. ‘We mean you no harm, honestly. And I haven’t come to get Alan back, dear. We don’t love each other – I’m with this lovely man now. Please, just listen to my lawyer friend here.’

‘I don’t need to know anything about him,’ Trish said, her heart allowing in a crumb of hope. Lucy didn’t want him back. She was engaged to another man, so Alan was still free. ‘I love him no matter what. As long as he doesn’t drink.’

Glenys spread paperwork on the kitchen table. ‘Here’s what we’ve come to show you, Mrs Styles. He stole most of my client’s money, forged her signature, and mortgaged a house that’s been in her family for generations. I’m so sorry to have to give you such bad news, but we are trying to act in your best interests and the facts are there in black and white. These are photocopies for your perusal. He committed fraud on several occasions over the years.’

Trish cast an eye over the items on her table. ‘I thought it might be something like that,’ she said. ‘But he’ll not go to jail, because I’m going to clear his debts.’

‘What?’ Glenys looked at Lucy, then at Trish. ‘The mortgages?’

Lucy leaned across and patted Trish’s hand. ‘The man’s hopeless with money – always was. When I took power of attorney, I sold plant worth a lot more than he knew. With a bit of help from my own estate, I cleared the fraudulent mortgages. That man is the father of my three children, and I couldn’t just sit back and let him go to jail. So the Halifax has no claim on him, and all his commitments have been honoured. If he would call in at Tallows occasionally to pick up his post, he’d know all this.’ She turned to David. ‘Find him, please. None of us wants his neck in a noose.’

David left the house.

‘He’s not bankrupt?’ Trish asked.

‘He’s not. But in a way, it would be better if he were bankrupt, because this could all happen to you. I was married to him, so—’

‘So you let him do it,’ Trish accused her. ‘Well, I won’t. Any new business will be a partnership with me at the steering wheel. You should have stopped him.’

Lucy sighed heavily. ‘Look, my children are all that matters to me. When they were grown, I took command, retrieved my money and left him. By that time he was pickled in whisky and beyond the point at which negotiation could be useful. I chose my way. We all choose our own way, and those of us with children perhaps choose differently.’

‘Sorry,’ said Trish.

‘It’s all right, I know how you feel. I’d go to the ends of the earth for David, but don’t tell him. Look.’ She pointed to the window. ‘Here they come, two fools for the price of one.’

Alan came in first. He stood and stared at the floor.

‘It’s OK,’ Lucy said. ‘No one’s here to hurt you. We came to protect Trish, and I’m sure you know why. Look at me. Look at me, Alan.’

He raised his head. David stood by Alan’s side, two men staring at a solid block of female power.

‘I discharged you, and I thought you would have been told. What about your mobile? Didn’t your lawyers let you know that no fraud charges were coming your way? You’re my children’s dad, for goodness’ sake.’

‘I changed my SIM card. Lizzie has my number, but no one else – apart from Trish.’ He paused. ‘She got married. My little girl married?’

‘Yes.’

David decided to take charge. ‘Right. I gather that you two ladies have done what you came to do? So we should go and leave Alan and Trish to talk. This is their business now, not ours.’

A buzzer sounded. ‘Sorry I’m late, Trish. It’s Eric.’

Glenys jumped up. She knew that voice. ‘Eric Simmons? There have been developments, Eric,’ she told the machine on the wall. ‘Wait there, we’re all coming out now.’

‘My accountant,’ Trish explained.

‘I know him, so I’ll keep him out of your way while you talk. Good luck, anyway.’ Glenys dashed out, leaving behind a very bemused Lucy.

‘We’ll be off, then.’ David took Lucy’s arm.

‘Just a minute,’ Alan called. He blushed, and the words didn’t arrive easily. ‘Thanks, Lucy. I never treated you right, and I wish I could pay you back.’