A Daughter's Choice (24 page)

‘Yer saying I'm not?'

‘Who'd have you?'

‘Plenty.' He leered in her face. ‘I could do yer with one hand tied behind me back.'

‘You've got as much chance of that as winning the Pools,' she retorted, and made to move away.

He placed his hand on her bottom and immediately she swayed round. Banging the glasses down on the table, she hissed, ‘Keep your filthy hands off me, you swine!'

‘I'm a bloody customer!' he yelled, stumbling to his feet. ‘Hey, landlord, yer wanna drown this one in a keg!'

‘What's going on?' said the landlord, bustling over. ‘I've told you, gentlemen, to keep it down.'

‘She insulted me!'

‘He touched me!' said Katherine wrathfully. ‘He's got no right to touch me.'

‘He probably meant no harm. It could have even been an accident,' said the landlord, looking harassed.

‘She wus asking furrit,' said the man. ‘Dressed like a bleeding tart!'

‘That's it!' said Katherine in a fury, and picking up a glass, flung the dregs in his face. ‘I quit! I'll be back for what I'm owed in the morning!'

She stormed out in as dignified a manner as possible, notwithstanding how tipsy she was and how hard it was to keep her balance wearing her new high heels. She was thinking if her mother dared say ‘I told you so' she would slay her. But the evening was not over yet.

Celia had enjoyed herself. She had been asked to dance several times and one of her partners had said she was a natural dancer, but when he then asked to see her home she had refused. Even so she was in a happy mood as she hurried along the road. The pubs had begun to let out and men lingered on pavements. A figure emerged from the doorway of the photographer's ahead and crossed the road. Her eyes followed him and suddenly she noticed Katherine by his side, hips swaying seductively in that too-tight skirt. Celia felt anger, annoyance and anxiety as another man detached himself from a group outside the pub and made a grab for her daughter. Katherine managed to avoid him. He went after her again and this time seized hold of her.

Celia flew across the road. The stupid girl, flaunting herself in such a way! There were now two men tussling, with her daughter in their midst. Celia reached the pavement and, lashing out with her handbag and umbrella, managed to floor one of them while the other she punched in the back.

‘Hell!' he said, clinging on to Katherine.

‘What did you do that for?' she said, putting her arm round the youth and blinking at her mother. ‘This is Patrick! He came to my rescue. He's the baddie on the ground.'

Celia said in a vexed voice, ‘How was I to know that? Anyway, let's get away from here.' She seized Katherine's left arm and hustled her towards the pet shop with Patrick holding on to the girl the other side. ‘You've never mentioned a Patrick to me,' muttered Celia.

Katherine blinked down at her. ‘Why should I? D'you tell me everybody you meet?'

‘I'm your mother! I don't have to. And if you'd taken that skirt off, things would have been different!'

‘I've been saying that to her,' said a limping Patrick.

Katherine giggled. ‘You know how that sounds?'

‘Yep.' He smiled, winced and touched his lip. ‘I'm bleeding.'

‘I'll kiss it better!' She swayed in his direction but missed his mouth by a foot and almost fell over.

‘Will you behave yourself?' hissed Celia. ‘You're making a show of us and I want the people round here to respect me.'

Katherine attempted to pull herself together. ‘You're getting to sound more like Ma ev-verry-day!'

‘Don't mention her here,' snapped Celia, opening the door. ‘Will you get inside!' She tried to force her in but Katherine clung to Patrick.

‘Hang on! What about him?'

‘He's got a home to go to, hasn't he?' said Celia, feeling harassed.

‘Yes – but he's bleeding.' Katherine looked soulfully at Patrick. ‘He-he at least de-deserves a cup of cocoa.'

‘You're drunk!' said Celia, turning on her. ‘I knew no good would come of you working in that pub! I don't know what Mrs Evans will say …'

‘She won't say anything. She-she likes me!' said Katherine, dragging on Patrick's arm. ‘Come in, come in!'

Celia ground her teeth. ‘Oh, I wash my hands of you! I'm going to put the kettle on.' She hurried upstairs.

Patrick frowned after her. ‘Who's Ma if
she's
your mother?'

‘Oh, never mind that now,' said Katherine, clutching at him. ‘Carry me upstairs. I'll fall down if I try to walk up.' She attempted to control a yawn but could not.

‘Who do you think I am – Superman?' said Patrick, giving her a stern look. ‘She's right. You're going to have to give up that pub, Katherine.'

‘Oh, shut up!' she said, jiggling about. ‘And lift me up.'

Somehow he managed to sweep her up in his arms. ‘If we both fall down, it's your fault,' he warned.

‘You won't drop me, my nice strong Patrick,' she murmured, head lolling against his shoulder. ‘But you mustn't go picking fights with people any more. You'll get hurt.'

‘I never pick fights!' he exclaimed. ‘It's only when you're around I get into trouble.'

‘Be honest. You picked that fight with Dougie!'

‘Shhh!' said Celia, as they reached the landing. ‘Who are you talking about now?'

‘Nobody important,' sighed Katherine as Patrick carried her into the living room and put her down on the sofa.

She gazed up at him and tutted. ‘You're bleeding.' She dragged herself up and swayed across the room to where she knew there was a biscuit tin with first-aid things inside. With her eyes shut and her head resting against the wall above the sink, she dampened a ball of cotton wool and click-clacked back into the room. ‘My brave hero,' she said, jerkily dabbing the cut on his face.

‘A lot of good it did me being a hero,' he said glumly.

‘Shush! You've made your lip bleed again.' She drew away from him a little. ‘You look a bit better now. How's the cocoa coming on, Ma?' she added, without looking up.

‘Don't call me Ma,' said Celia.

Katherine sighed. ‘I can't win. Nobody loves me.'

Celia said impatiently, ‘Of course people love you! But not when you get drunk and act daft.'

‘I want someone who'll love me all the time.' She sighed and smiled at Patrick. ‘You poor boy. I suppose you deserve a kiss.' She leant towards him and their mouths brushed, leaving her lips tingling as if touched by thistledown. ‘Nice,' she said.

He shook his head at her but there was a slight smile on his face. ‘I think I'd best get home. I'll see myself out.'

‘Goodnight, sweet prince!' She wiggled her fingers and closed her eyes.

There was silence as his footsteps receded.

‘You're naughty,' said Celia. ‘Flirting with that young man.'

‘I like having a fella around.'

‘It shows! But you shouldn't encourage him. And what happened to you to get in this state? I never thought you'd be so much trouble,' she said severely.

‘I threw beer over a customer for pinching me bum.' Katherine yawned. ‘And I quit me job.'

‘Well, that's one good thing. You can carry on here and I'll start looking for other work,' said Celia, pouring boiling water on the cocoa. ‘It shouldn't be difficult. As for you liking the opposite sex around – I've lived without them for years.'

‘Perhaps that's why you're the way you are?' murmured Katherine.

‘What d'you mean by that?' said her mother indignantly.

‘Now me, I wish – I wish –' Katherine's eyes closed again.

‘What do you wish?' asked Celia agitatedly.

‘Mick –'

‘What about him?'

But Katherine did not answer. She had fallen asleep.

Mick strolled up the drive to where the lights of the Seaview shone through the fog like beacons in the darkness and was about to push his way through the revolving doors when Rita came out.

‘Just the woman I'm looking for,' he said with a smile. She was wearing one of the new Empire-line winter coats in royal blue bouclé wool and he thought the style suited her. There was colour in her cheeks and her hair was loose about her shoulders, which he liked. ‘Have you finished for the day?'

‘Can I help you, Mr Ryan?' She pulled on a green glove, smoothing the fingers one by one with careful deliberation.

‘You remember me?'

‘Of course.' She flashed him a brief smile. ‘It might be months ago but I'm not senile yet.'

‘Had a bad day?' he said sympathetically, falling into step beside her as she walked down the drive. ‘I don't know how you put up with the job. Although, not owning the place, you can get away from it instead of having to live with it twenty-four hours a day.'

She glanced at him. ‘I like the work. You haven't been making enquiries about me today, have you?'

‘No. Why?'

She frowned. ‘Someone's been ringing up asking questions about me.'

‘You've no idea who?'

‘I wouldn't have asked you if I did,' she said dryly. ‘Anyway, I'm sure you're not here to talk about me. Is it Celia? Have you had any luck?'

‘Not a sausage!' he said soberly. ‘But Katie's been seen in Liverpool with a young bloke so we did wonder whether she and Celia have separated. I take it from what you've just said you haven't seen her?'

‘Obviously not or I would have been in touch.'

‘It's not that obvious,' he murmured. ‘You could be lying because you don't quite trust me.'

She stopped and stared at him. ‘What do you mean by that?'

‘I was under the impression you thought me the kind of man who treated women rotten?'

‘I'm sure I said I was sorry about that.' She was glad it was dark so he could not see her face which felt hot with embarrassment. ‘Actually I'd forgotten about that until you reminded me,' she lied. There was no way she had forgotten him which annoyed her because of course he belonged to Celia. ‘I have got a life of my own to live, you know, without thinking about you all the time. I like the theatre and dancing … I do all kinds of things.'

‘I'm glad you lead such an exciting life,' he drawled, digging his hands deep into the pockets of his overcoat. ‘Which way are you going? Perhaps I can walk you home? It isn't a nice night for a woman to be out on her own.'

‘I'm quite used to looking after myself, Mr Ryan,' she said contrarily, having thought earlier it was not going to be pleasant going home past Hesketh Park. The fog made even the most familiar landmarks look strange and spooky.

‘OK, if that's how you want it, I'll leave you to it. Bye.'

He stayed where he was and for a moment she was at a loss. ‘Well, aren't you going?' she said after a minute or so, knowing that if he was catching a train to Liverpool they would be walking in the same direction.

‘I thought I might go inside and have a drink. You do serve non-residents?'

‘I'm sure they'll serve you, Mr Ryan. Goodbye.' She watched him walk back up the drive before turning away.

Her heels made a ringing noise on the pavement that echoed in the silence. The distant sound of a dog barking enhanced the atmosphere which was starting to take on the mood of a Hammer horror film. After several minutes she began to think she could hear footsteps behind her but convinced herself it was all in her imagination.

Think of something else, she told herself, but feet were still on her mind and suddenly she was remembering her father repairing her shoes on the cobbler's last which had been his father's before him. She had never known her grandfather but had heard a lot about him from her own father, who had been a man for telling tales. She had adored him but when she was nine years old he had left and never returned. He had been a good-looking, gentle man, different from any of her playmates' fathers in that he made her dresses and liked to cook; much to her mother's disapproval, who put his behaviour down to his having to fend for himself when he was in the army during the Great War. Rita had never been able to accept that because his ex-army chum, Uncle Bert, who had a bad chest and lived with them, had not been a bit that way. He had disappeared the same time as her father.

She remembered her mother, red-eyed with weeping, telling her that her father was catching a ship that would take him to Australia where he hoped to make his fortune. Rita had wanted to go with him so she ran all the way down to the docks but she had not been able to find him. For months she had expected a letter but it had never come.

‘How do you manage to walk so fast in those high heels?'

She nearly jumped out of her skin and whirled round. ‘You swine!' she gasped. ‘How dare you frighten me like that?'

Mick quirked an eyebrow, something he had practised and practised when he was younger because he had once seen a cowboy do it in a film. ‘Who said I was following you? I happen to be going this way and now I've caught up with you, if you don't want my company I'll just go on ahead.'

‘You do that,' she said crossly. ‘I'd rather have you where I can see you.'

‘Really?' He smiled and walked past her.

She could have kicked herself for having responded in such a way but trust a man to pick it up and turn it to his own advantage!

‘Why aren't you married?' Mick's voice floated back to her through the fog.

‘None of your business!'

‘You're not bad-looking.'

‘Am I supposed to say thanks for the compliment?'

‘Not necessarily. I suppose you have been asked?'

The cheek of the man! ‘I don't want to get married! I'm happy with my life the way it is,' she said loudly.