A Daughter's Choice (40 page)

Katherine had never thought she would be glad to get away from the Arcadia but she had not slept well, dreaming she was looking for something she could not find though she did not know what. As well as that there had been an atmosphere all morning and dinner had been a nightmare with Kitty grim-faced and untalkative, so that Katherine felt she could not approach her. In the end she had made a telephone call and vanished upstairs which meant Katherine had to cope with just the help of the two men so both she and Jack were late leaving the house.

She caught a bus to Skelhorne Street that took her to Waterloo. To her annoyance when she reached Mick's house there was no answer to her rat-a-tat on the door knocker but she could hear a dog barking. The back gate proved to be only on the latch so she went through into the small walled garden to be greeted by Nelson.

‘Where's your master?' she demanded. The dog answered her with a woof and capered round her before going over to the gate and barking. ‘You want a run, do you?'

He woofed again, so after peering through the windows and trying the back door, Katherine reopened the gate and went out with him. When she reached the front of the house she took out a pencil and a used envelope and wrote on the back of it and posted it through the letter box. Then she headed for the beach.

Nelson was away with her in pursuit, the ends of her long scarf flying in the breeze. Her spirits lifted and she decided it was real cool Mick's house being so near the river. The sand stretched for what seemed miles. The tide was out and the sea and sky seemed to merge into one. She thought of Patrick and his poor bruised face, and of Ma looking like death, and wished there was an easy answer to her dilemma. What if Patrick no longer wanted her? That would be a miserable way out of her problem. But what if Ma died? That would be another. Katherine shivered at the thought. She did not want her to die.

She gazed across the sand to where the waves lapped the shore and saw a dredger and a liner making their way towards Liverpool. She watched them a moment and then began to look for pretty seashells but could only spot cockleshells with the odd razor amongst the broken glass and a few bits of washed up wood and scraps of seaweed at the tide line.

Nelson came flying up the beach with something in his mouth. He dropped it at her feet and she saw it was a blue rubber ball, one of those solid ones that can bounce really high on a pavement but not here on the beach. He was jumping up at her, letting out little yelps. She threw the ball and he went skittering after it.

‘Enjoying yourself, are yer?'

Katherine jumped and whirled round and stared into the bloodshot eyes in the unshaven, ruddy face of Andy Pritchard. He wore a pith helmet and a sort of tunic with baggy leggings and well-worn cracked boots. Her heart bumped uncomfortably against her ribs because he looked so weird. She made no answer but instead ran after Nelson. What was Pritchard doing here? He must have followed her from Liverpool. She did not really believe he could do anything to her here in the open because there were a few other people around but decided to keep as much space between him and her as possible. She glanced over her shoulder and saw he was coming after her, not running but marching, left, right, left, right, as if he was still in the army.

She felt apprehensive because there was something disturbing about that figure and so she increased her speed, picking up the ball as Nelson brought it to her and throwing it on the run. Then two things happened at once. She heard her name being called and the ball disappeared into one of those patches of sand that Mick had once mentioned but which she'd forgotten about until now.

Katherine screamed at the dog even as he leapt after the ball but it was too late. He landed and immediately began to struggle and being only a little dog was sinking fast. She did the only thing she felt she could and went in after him.

She caught him up and held his trembling body against her chest. Realising she was up to the top of her thighs in the horrible soft, sticky mud and sand, she instantly froze. She had heard tales of sinking sands, seen films of swamps and read of quakemires in Devon where ponies and grown men disappeared in a swirl of bubbles never to be seen again, but she had never believed it could happen to her.

Andy Pritchard stamped to a halt on the edge of the patch of sand and his grin was wicked. ‘So how're you going to get out of there, girl? Isn't funny, is it? Just like what you did to me wasn't funny. I wanted Celia, I did, but you had to go and spoil things. I hope you die!'

‘You're sick,' she said in a trembling voice.

‘I've no effing money and I'm going to lose the shop!' Tears came to his eyes and Katherine stared at him, feeling embarrassed, disbelieving and scared. ‘I'm sorry but that's not my fault.' She heaved the struggling dog up in her arms and sank a few more inches. She bit hard on her lip before saying, ‘Could you take him? He hasn't done you any harm.'

Andy did not move. ‘Perhaps it
is
meant for you to die here. Not a nice death!' He added in staccato tones, ‘There's someone coming this way. Perhaps they'll help you but you might be under by then.' He turned and marched away.

Katherine screamed as she sank a few more inches but the next moment Mick was there accompanied by a limping Patrick with his face still bruised. ‘I wish I had my camera with me,' he said in a joky voice. ‘But I suppose we'd better get you out of there.'

‘Please!' Now was not the time to ask how he had got here.

‘Throw Nelson to me,' said Mick, kneeling and stretching out his arms.

It was not an easy order to comply with because the dog's claws were now caught up in her scarf but somehow she managed to free him and propel him towards those straining fingers and to push so hard he flew through the air the necessary foot. In the process she sank several more inches and scared herself silly.

‘Your scarf,' rasped Patrick as Mick dropped Nelson unceremoniously on to the sand before turning his attention once more to his daughter.

They watched as Katherine unwound the scarf. She thanked God for the fashion which had dictated Mrs Evans should knit it at least six feet long and in a drop stitch which stretched. She threw, not aiming straight along the surface where it might flop into the mud but up in the air. Patrick caught it and took it a turn about his arm and Mick gripped a handful of it too. Then they heaved with all their might. She was aware of an excruciating pain in her wrist, of sand and slime against her cheek. The stitches stretched and stretched as, slowly and inexorably, she was pulled free.

She lay on firm ground with her breasts heaving and her breath coming fast. She took fistfuls of sand and suddenly was crying. Then the two men were hoisting her to her feet and Patrick said with a tender smile on his face, ‘I don't know what you're crying for?'

‘I must look terrible,' she wailed.

‘Awful!' And he took her in his arms and kissed her dirty face before hugging her while she half laughed, half sobbed on his shoulder.

‘That's love for you,' said Mick dryly, standing with his hands on his hips and staring at them with a tolerant expression before turning and gazing after the marching figure of Andy Pritchard. ‘What the hell was that bloke thinking of, leaving you here?'

‘That's Mr Pritchard – the man Celia nearly married,' sniffed Katherine, lifting her head. ‘I think he's gone loopy. He followed her around for a while but now he's started on me.'

‘We'll soon put a stop to that,' said Mick, chin jutting aggressively.

‘You and me both,' said Patrick, releasing Katherine.

‘No, you don't! You're not safe to be allowed out on your own!' She caught hold of him and wrapped her arms round his waist.

‘Look who's talking! You're a real mess!' He kissed her again.

‘That's why we need each other,' she said, rubbing her wet eyes against his jacket.

‘So you're definitely not going to Scotland?' His words were muffled against her hair.

‘No. I don't know how I'm going to tell Ma but I'm staying here.'

‘That's my girl,' said Patrick, kissing her again. ‘I'd come to tell you I'd move up there but I'd rather stay in my own patch for now.'

‘So you weren't cross with me for not visiting you in hospital?'

‘Disappointed, but I guessed that you mightn't have known about it. Now, let's get you away from here and back to the house.'

It was an hour later. Katherine had bathed and washed her hair and now, wearing a pair of Mick's pyjamas and thick socks, was curled up in a corner of the sofa in front of the fire, dunking bread into a bowl of Heinz Scotch Broth. Patrick was sitting on a stool with her feet in his lap, drinking tea, and Mick and Rita sat close to each other at the other end of the sofa. A telephone call had come from Kitty a short while ago saying she would be with them in half an hour. Ben and Sarah were bringing her in the car and she hoped it was not inconvenient.

‘What on earth does Ma mean by inconvenient?' said Mick, tapping his fingers on Rita's arm. ‘I did ask her here last night …'

‘Perhaps it's because she knows I'm here?' said Patrick.

‘I can't understand that!' burst out Katherine. ‘She actually told you where I was?'

‘That's what I said,' he drawled. ‘She even gave me Mick's number so I could telephone and tell him I was coming. I didn't want to arrive here and get the door slammed in my face.'

‘Patrick was why we weren't in,' said Rita, smiling at Katherine. ‘We thought you might both have been on the same train so we walked to meet you.'

‘And I went and caught the bus! You must have only just missed me at the Arcadia, love,' said Katherine to Patrick.

‘I wish I hadn't. You wouldn't have ended up in that horrible sinking sand because that terrible bloke was following you.'

‘Well, that's the last you've seen of him, Katie,' said Mick. ‘I told him I'd knock his block off if we saw hide or hair of him again.'

‘You didn't hit him?' said Rita.

‘I grabbed hold of him and he started crying!' There was a disgusted note in Mick's voice. ‘I tell you, I couldn't believe it of a big bloke like that. But he told me the shop didn't belong to his sister as he'd thought but was only leased, and as he hadn't been paying any money over since she died they've told him to get out.'

‘And all for the want of Celia,' murmured Katherine. ‘Incredible!'

Mick and Rita smiled. ‘You warm enough now?' she said to Katherine.

She was just about to say as warm as toast when the knocker went. The four exchanged glances and Mick got up and left the room.

Katherine made to sit up straight but Patrick put a hand over her feet and said, ‘She knows we're a couple and there's nothing sinful about you resting your feet on me.'

‘I know!' she whispered. ‘But I've never taken up such a pose in Ma's company.' She glanced at Rita. ‘What d'you think she's come for? It can't really be to talk about a party?'

‘It's probably about the Arcadia,' said Rita in a low voice. ‘I want to buy it but I want you to stay and work for me.'

Katherine felt a rush of pleasure. ‘You want me?'

‘Well, you're going to be my stepdaughter, aren't you?'

‘So a wedding is in the wind?' said a voice from the doorway.

Katherine twisted her head and saw Kitty standing there, and despite what Patrick had said, she swung her feet on to the floor and stood up. So did Rita and Patrick.

‘How cosy it looks in here,' said Kitty, her gaze passing serenely over them. ‘I think I'd like a house like this.'

They stared at her in astonishment and Katherine noticed she did not have her stick. ‘But –' she began.

Her grandmother did not let her finish. ‘John and I have decided the house in Scotland is much too big for us. What do I want to carry on working for at my age? I did think that maybe Wendy could have helped me out but when Ben and Sarah told me they've started a baby, I thought, what are we doing going so far away from everyone? Even Jack's no longer up there in Scotland.'

‘But – but what about Pops?' blurted out Katherine, keeping a hold on Mick's pyjama bottoms to stop them falling down. ‘He likes walking the hills.'

‘He's having trouble with his knees.' Kitty looked over her spectacles at her. ‘What's them you're wearing? No, don't tell me! I suppose I should be glad you've found yourself a boy who'll come to your rescue and cares about old ladies. He tells me St Patrick is the patron saint of Protestants
and
Catholics in Ireland and he comes from a mixed marriage himself.'

‘You asked him?' she said, bristling slightly.

‘Of course I didn't! I hardly know the lad yet. Vicky told him it was something I was concerned about. But just because I've accepted him, there's no need to go rushing into marriage. You've still got some growing up to do, my girl!'

‘Yes, Grandma,' said Katherine meekly.

‘What about the Arcadia?' asked Rita.

Kitty's eyes twinkled. ‘I presume you two will be working there? We're going to sell the Scottish house and buy a plot of land in Formby not far from Ben. He'll build us a bungalow, and if you ever find you can't cope, I can give you a hand.' She got no further because Katherine rushed over to her and began dancing her round, regardless of the drooping pyjamas.

Ben, Sarah and Mick were now able to enter the room and suddenly everybody seemed to be talking at once. Patrick watched with a smile on his face and reaching for his camera, focused and took his first family shot.

The flash caused everyone to freeze for a moment before resuming their conversations but Kitty took the opportunity to tell Katherine and Mick that although she was not ready yet to throw in the sponge, it had been a bit of a day and she would appreciate a sit in front of the fire and a stiff whisky.