Friends and Lovers (27 page)

‘I’m not,’ said Ursula, her smile widening. ‘But I drop in quite often. I’m an old family friend while you are the intruder.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ It took Viv all her willpower not to scream the words.

‘You’ve got a job on your hands, love,’ Ursula said in a conspiratorial whisper, her violet eyes sparkling. ‘Celia’s out to be rid of you and put me in your place. I belong, you see.’

Viv stared at her in astonishment. ‘I can believe it, but why are you telling me?’

‘Just warning you.’ She grinned.

‘Thanks,’ said Viv drily, not sure how to react. ‘Where’s Nick?’

‘On site still.’ She sighed. ‘He’s very keen. One of the workers of the world. I’m just a drone.’

Viv shook her head, puzzled. ‘Do you know where the site is?’

‘Sure. Sometimes I go and watch him play with his building bricks.’ She beamed. ‘How was America?’

‘They build bricks higher there than anywhere else. Perhaps you should go and watch them,’ said Viv slowly.

‘Want to be rid of me?’ Ursula sighed and closed the door. ‘Perhaps I will go. I’ll show you the site,’ she said, further surprising Viv by leading her to a sports car parked in the lane.

Viv could not believe this was happening. ‘Why
are you taking me to Nick?’ she asked with a slight laugh. ‘I thought …’ She clutched her seat as the car roared up the narrow lane.

‘I can guess what you thought,’ said Ursula, picking up the conversation as she took a bend smoothly. ‘How’s your cousin? Nick told me he was caught up in those terrible floods in France. I was there in the summer. Awful thing to happen.’

‘Yes. He’s much better now.’ Viv decided to take the conversation as it came. ‘He’s painting again which is the right thing for him.’

‘Is he any good?’

Viv considered. ‘I don’t always understand his pictures,’ she murmured. ‘They’re not how I see things.’

‘You’re not an artist,’ said Ursula bluntly.

‘Too right,’ murmured Viv. ‘I like a person to look like a person and a tree to be a tree.’ As the car drew up near an estate of completed and
half-finished
houses she added, ‘This is it?’

‘Too right,’ said Ursula, grinning. ‘Do you want me to find Nick for you?’

‘Don’t bother yourself. Thanks for the lift.’

‘My pleasure. Fight the good fight and I’ll see you around, no doubt?’

‘No doubt about it,’ said Viv with a puzzled frown as Ursula drove off.

Viv found Nick on his haunches looking at
drains. ‘Anything interesting in there?’ she said.

He put out a hand to steady himself and his blue eyes gazed into hers with such warmth that she cast aside any doubts she might have had, and, kneeling in the mud, kissed him long and deep.

‘How did you get here?’ he said when he could finally speak.

‘Ursula!’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t dig her and she’s too attractive for my peace of mind but there’s something about her … You don’t really fancy her, do you? If you do I’ll find a deep hole and put her in it.’

Nick laughed. ‘How’s George?’

‘Safely the other side of the Atlantic. Now pull me up or I’m going to sink in the mud.’

He pulled her to her feet and kissed her again. ‘Tell me I’m not dreaming.’

‘You’re not dreaming.’ She smiled into his eyes. ‘Now show me the house that you did dream up.’

He laughed and swept her up into his arms before she could protest. Several of the workmen wolf whistled and she waved to them as Nick carried her across the mud. They toured the house and she said all the right things, proud of his achievement.

Then she told him about going to see her mother. ‘I’m worried, Nick. She’s a mess. I never
thought I’d see the day when she’d let anybody find her like that.’

Nick nodded. ‘I thought the same at Christmas.’

‘She’s given up. Stephen hasn’t called and her confidence has taken a knock.’ She added hesitantly, ‘I know who my father is, Nick, and the strange thing is that Mam seemed to think you might have told me. Did she tell you the truth about him at Christmas?’

‘No.’ He pulled Viv against him and said against her ear, ‘I’ve known for ages.’ She stiffened but be kept tight hold of her. ‘I guess that most of your mother’s antagonism towards me was because she had a fair idea I knew and was scared that I might tell you.’

Viv struggled in his arms and he released her. They gazed at each other. ‘How did you know? And why didn’t you tell me?’ she cried. ‘You knew how important it was to me.’

‘Because I knew you’d be hurt,’ he said fiercely. ‘We lived next door. I overheard your mam and your Uncle Tom talking. He was cruel to her! Laid all the blame at her door. I’d heard enough of that kind of talk from my father not to know what they were talking about!

‘I see,’ said Viv quietly. ‘Such a simple answer.’

‘The truth
has
hurt you, hasn’t it? You wanted him to be a super hero but most men aren’t, and most women are only human too.’

There was a long silence while Viv digested all that he had said. Then she pressed herself against him and said in a muffled voice, ‘You could have threatened her with telling me but you didn’t. That isn’t your way is it, Nick?’

‘Even when she irritated me, I felt sorry for her,’ he said slowly. ‘We all make mistakes, Viv. We all get scared.’

She nodded. ‘I was scared earlier. Of Ursula. But I don’t think she’s a threat, really.’

‘Of course she isn’t.’ He hugged her and stepping outside the dream house, said, ‘What are we going to do about your mother?’

‘Aunt Flo told me that Mam said Stephen had asked her to marry him.’

‘She must have said no,’ said Nick, frowning. ‘I wonder why?’

‘It’s no use wondering why,’ said Viv. ‘Stephen’s the answer to Mam’s problems. He’s proud, though, and still hurting from their last meeting.’

‘Work on him,’ said Nick. ‘I’m sure you can do it.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘I never thought I’d hear you say that.’

He smiled. ‘I trust you – and him.’

She nodded absently. ‘I’ll have to go carefully – and I think it would be a good thing to get to work on Mam first. He wouldn’t want her the way she looks at the moment.’

‘Then get to work right away,’ said Nick firmly. ‘She’s slipped pretty far.’

‘Let’s go and see her now then,’ said Viv.

Hilda appeared to have combed her hair when she opened the door to Viv and Nick. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d be back tonight.’ Her voice was flurried. ‘I was just thinking of going back to bed.’

‘Come off it, Mam! It’s only nine o’clock,’ said Viv in chivvying tones. ‘We’ve got some fish and chips and Nick bought a bottle of champagne to celebrate.

Hilda made way for them. ‘To celebrate what?’

‘Our engagement, of course! You go and get the glasses,’ she ordered.

‘Oh, that,’ said Hilda, plumping herself down in the rocking chair. She sighed.

Viv felt like hitting her. ‘Mam! You could be happy for us,’ she hissed.

‘Why?’ She folded her arms across her stomach.

‘I’ll get some glasses,’ murmured Nick, and left the pair of them to it.

‘I had thought of staying here like you said,’ said Viv, determinedly controlling her anger as she placed the fish and chips on the table and opening the newspaper wrappings.

Hilda pushed herself up from the chair and came to stand behind her daughter. ‘What do you mean, you thought?’

‘What I said. It depends if you’re going to buck your ideas up. I don’t want a miserable face round me all the time.’

Hilda cleared her throat. ‘People do get miserable when they’re on their own, but if you’re here I won’t feel so bad.’

‘Well, we’ll try it then,’ said Viv, burning her boats. ‘Now how about some chips?’

‘They smell good. But I shouldn’t really eat them. I’ll just put on more weight.’

‘Are you hungry?’ said Viv insistently, waving a chip under her nose.

‘Starving!’ Hilda snatched at the chip and ate it.

‘We’ll both go on a diet tomorrow,’ said Viv, watching her. ‘I’ve put on some weight while I’ve been away.’

Hilda began to tuck in, saying with her mouth almost full, ‘You look all right. I wouldn’t lose too much, honey.’

Viv smiled. ‘You just want me as fat as you.’

‘No, I don’t!’ she said earnestly. ‘It’s uncomfortable being like this. Friends told me that the weight piled on easier when you got round forty but I didn’t believe them. Hardly any of my clothes fit properly and I’ve got some lovely things that Steve …’ A sigh escaped her. ‘No man would look at me now.’ She looked depressed and Viv found herself feeling irritated once more. She struggled for words of encouragement.

Nick entered the room and Viv said, ‘Tell Mam she’s still got what it takes, love.’

‘Of course she has,’ he said positively. ‘She always has had. Some new clothes, Hilda, that’s what you need. And get your hair done.’

‘We’ll go shopping,’ said Viv, watching Nick’s deft fingers working on the champagne cork and remembering how they had worked on her last summer and how wonderful it had been.

Hilda flushed. ‘No shopping until I’ve lost some weight,’ she said, her shoulders firming slightly.

The cork shot out of the bottle and bounced off the wall the other side of the room. Hilda walked majestically over to it and with difficulty bent and picked it up. She turned and looked at them both as Nick filled three glasses with foaming golden liquid. ‘We’ll have another bottle,’ she said a mite breathlessly, ‘when I get back into a size twelve.’ She accepted a glass from Nick. ‘Here’s to you both.’

Viv raised her glass. ‘Thanks, Mam. And I’m sure you’ll get rid of that weight. To us, Nick.’

‘To us.’ His dark head drew closer. They kissed and Viv wished they could marry tonight, tomorrow! But she knew that they would have to wait until they’d sorted out her mother. Let it be soon, though, God, she prayed. Let it be soon!

‘How was your Aunt Flora?’

‘Fine.’ Viv looked up from her typewriter in surprise. It was the first time that Stephen had mentioned her aunt and instinctively she felt wary. It was almost a month since she had come home and things were not moving as swiftly as she would have liked. Her mother was still a frump and there had not been much improvement in Stephen either. He was tidier than he had been that first day but he was still not his normal self. She had needed to remind him about appointments which was not usual with him. She had considered that all to the good in one way, just like his asking how she was getting along with her mother, but it was not enough. And now he was asking about her aunt. She did not like it. ‘Why do you ask?’

Stephen put down his pen, cleared his throat, steepled his hands and rested his chin on them.
‘You haven’t mentioned your father since you came home. Before all that trouble with George it seems as if he was never out of your mind. I just wondered if your aunt had said anything about him?’

Viv was silent. The last thing she wanted was him thinking of her mother’s past. ‘I didn’t mention my father,’ she lied. ‘George was too much on our minds.’

He flushed. ‘Of course! Stupid of me.’ His hands dropped and he fiddled with a sheet of paper. ‘But have you given your father’s identity any more thought?’

‘Not really,’ said Viv, feeling her way. ‘My curiosity caused us all so much unhappiness that I think he’s best forgotten.’

He stared at her, his brows puckered. ‘You really feel like that now?’

‘Yes.’ She met his gaze squarely. ‘It’s the present that matters, isn’t it? The past actions of our parents have affected Nick and me too much so we’re putting them behind us. We’ve got the future to think about.’

‘Yes. That makes sense. You’re both young so you can start all over again,’ he said with deliberation.

Viv smiled. ‘You don’t have to be young to do that, Uncle Steve.

He sighed. ‘It’s easier. It’s very difficult, Viv,
when you’re older – to accept that someone you love fraternised with the enemy.’

‘The enemy! Heck!’ She hesitated before saying, ‘Who are we talking about?’

‘Your mother, of course, and the man I think was your father.’ He flushed once more. ‘I find it hard to forgive, Viv. He wished me so much ill.’

‘If he’s dead,’ said Viv quietly, ‘does it matter now? Why let it blight the rest of your life?’

‘It matters to me,’ he said stiffly.

Viv waited for him to say more but he did not. She got on with her work but there was a feeling of helplessness inside her. It seemed that even with the best will in the world things were not going to work out for Stephen and her mother.

When Viv arrived home that evening she found Hilda in her dressing gown, reading a magazine, her hand in a bag of jelly babies.

‘Mam, what are you doing eating sweets?’ she said irritably, snatching the paper bag from her and placing it on the table.

Hilda gazed at her with frustrated and worried eyes. ‘What’s the point, Viv? I haven’t lost any weight worth mentioning. I might as well give up.’

Viv scowled. ‘Don’t be so defeatist. Stephen mentioned you today. He and my father didn’t get on, did they?’

‘Not so you’d notice.’ Hilda sighed. ‘Mutual dislike. Of course, that could have been down to me. Steve was that bit younger and so believed himself out of the reckoning.’

‘I see.’ Viv took off her coat and sat in the rocking chair. ‘I think he suspects the truth.’

Hilda’s smile faded. ‘I thought he might. You didn’t tell him, though?’

Viv shook her head then stifled a yawn. ‘Any post?’ she murmured.

Her mother nodded and lumbered to her feet. ‘A letter from our Flo for you. I didn’t open it.’

Viv smiled and opened the letter. After a few seconds she lifted her head. ‘George is on his way back to Liverpool. Damn! I was hoping he’d stay away longer.’

‘What are you going to do?’ murmured Hilda, picking up the bag of jelly babies.

‘I’ll have to think.’ Nick was not going to like it. ‘He’ll probably come here.’

‘Probably. He’s like his father – stubborn,’ said Hilda, biting the legs off a green jelly baby.

‘Oh, shut up, Mam, about him being like our father,’ Viv said crossly. ‘Our father must have had some good points or you wouldn’t have loved him.’ She took the bag out of her mother’s hand and bit into a jelly baby herself. ‘Now go and boil an egg and have it with dry toast.’

Hilda groaned, and with a hand pressed against the small of her back said she wished she’d never been born.

Saturday morning George came home.

‘And where do you think you’re going to sleep?’ said Hilda, as she held the door open.

His brown eyes widened. ‘Good God, Auntie Hilda, you’ve put a bit of weight on! Bread and water, that’s what you need,’ he said, dumping his rucksack and painting paraphernalia on the floor and looking round him. ‘Not bad,’ he said. ‘Where’s Viv?’

‘Upstairs.’

‘I’ll go up,’ he said, starting across the room.

‘No, you won’t,’ she cried, moving as quickly as she could after him. ‘Let her sleep!’ But it was too late, he was gone. Hilda groaned and sat down, holding her belly. She had that funny pain again. The things a woman had to suffer. Periods or the Change, it was all one. Still, she would wish her periods back if she could be young again.

George entered Viv’s room like a whirlwind but if he had been hoping to surprise her he was disappointed. She was already awake and dressed in jeans and a thick green sweater with a pattern of white hearts across it. He hair was twisted on top of her head in a chignon. He stopped and stared at her.

‘Hello, George. I didn’t expect to see you so soon.’

‘I thought I’d surprise you.’

Viv nodded. ‘What brings you home?’

He hesitated. ‘I never did get round to thanking you for coming to look for me in France – and for taking me to America.’ He made to put his arms round her.

Viv immediately backed away. ‘You’re family. What did you expect me to do? What are you going to do with yourself now, George? Will you be off on your travels again or are you planning on staying in Liverpool?’

He stared at her, a slight pucker between his brows. ‘Stay a while, if that’s all right with you?’

She nodded. ‘You’ll have to sleep on the camp bed downstairs.’

‘That’s OK.’ He hesitated. ‘How are you and your mam getting on?’

‘Fine.’ She made towards the door.

He followed her. ‘She’s changed.’

‘Yes. Come and have some breakfast.’

He had hoped for more time alone with her but had no choice but to follow her downstairs.

Hilda glanced up as they entered the kitchen. ‘Well, is George staying?’

‘For now,’ said Viv, frowning. She was not finding it easy to keep him at a distance.

George went over to his aunt and hugged her. ‘You don’t mind putting up with me, do you, Aunt Hilda? This house is big enough for all of us.’ He kissed the top of her head.

Hilda said, ‘You don’t have to be coming your tricks with me, George. Sit down. Our Viv’ll make you a cup of tea.’

He grinned and glanced at Viv. ‘Hear that?’

‘I heard. Do as you’re told and I’ll bring you a cup of tea.’

Five minutes later the two women were listening to George talking about some of the people he had met in the art colony. ‘They’ve kicked over the traces more than I ever did,’ he murmured. ‘They’re on some kind of drug. Makes some of them real weird – violent in some cases, all lovey dovey in others.’

‘It’s a good job you’ve come home then,’ said Viv.

‘I could handle it.’ He hesitated. ‘What are you doing with yourself today?’

‘I’m seeing Nick. Sorry. What’ll you do?’

‘Still going to marry him?’ He looked grim when she nodded. ‘I’ll have a look round Liverpool alone then, I guess.’

Viv felt irritated and guilty at the same time. ‘You could take your drawing stuff. Try and capture some of the old Liverpool before it disappears altogether.’

His expression brightened. ‘That’s not a bad idea!’

Hilda decided to join in the conversation. ‘It’s a good idea. Your father was a dab hand with a paint brush.’

‘I know.’ George grinned and got to his feet. ‘I’ll do that then.’

After he had gone Viv cleared the table. ‘He is like his father,’ murmured Hilda.

‘Yes.’ She glanced at her mother. ‘Don’t forget he doesn’t know.’

‘Well, I’m not going to tell him.’ She wriggled uncomfortably. ‘I’ve got enough worries without him knowing. Are you going to the shops?’

Viv nodded. ‘Did you want something?’

‘Something for this pain. Probably constipation.’ She groaned. ‘I just can’t seem to get rid of it today.’

‘You eat too many sweets still, Mam. And you don’t get enough exercise. Did you go out yesterday?’

‘Have a heart, Viv! My back’s killing me,’ said Hilda indignantly. ‘When my mother was ill lying on that sofa …’

‘We got rid of the old sofa, remember.’ Viv shrugged on a coat. ‘You’ll have to change your story. Make it more heartrending.’ She struck a dramatic pose with one hand on her heart and spoke in a hollow voice. ‘When I was a girl we
didn’t have a sofa. My mother was dying and lay on the floor on a heap of old rags. There was no coal in the grate and the snow was ten feet deep past the windowsill.’

Hilda smiled. ‘Go and do your shopping. You don’t know you’re born. You’ve no idea what it was like for me with Father away. And Mam
was
dying, only I didn’t realise it.’

She eased her position and groaned again. ‘Don’t be away long. Perhaps some syrup of figs, honey?’

Viv made no answer. She was not rushing back. She would go to the library and enjoy a stroll round the shops.

For a long time after her daughter had left Hilda did not move but lay staring at the blank television screen. Then she made coffee, dipping a couple of chocolate fingers in the steamy liquid and sucking them. The pain did not abate and she began to feel restless. She switched on the radio and the DJ played an Ivor Novello number. Ivor. Welsh. Tom had Welsh blood. She thought about Stephen losing his sisters and mother in that air raid in November when she had conceived Viv. Did he miss her and the fun they had had? He had become a good lover as well as being kind and thoughtful. How she missed him!

The pain struck again, causing her to cry out and clutch her belly. After it passed she stumbled to her feet. The pain had been so sharp, so fierce,
that it frightened her. She did not want to be in the house alone. She wanted people. Why had Viv chosen to go out now? she thought unreasonably. She went to the front door, automatically trying to tighten the belt of her dressing gown but she had put on too much weight and it gaped open.

She looked down the row of yellow-brick houses. For once it was not raining and there were a couple of kids playing on bikes further up the road and Joe Kelly cleaning his car outside their door. The pain came again. ‘Ouch!’ She bent over awkwardly, clinging to the doorjamb with one hand.

Joe looked her way and dropped his chamois leather on the pavement. ‘Hey, are yer all right, Mrs Murray?’

‘Pain,’ she gasped. ‘Terrible pain.’ Her face was drained of colour.

‘I’ll get me mam. You go inside and sit down.’

Hilda said nothing, made no move, only breathed deeply of the chill February air.

Joe gave her an indecisive, worried look and yelled, ‘Mam! Mam!’ Nobody came and after several more groans from Hilda he dived into the house.

The pain passed and Hilda eased herself up. She leant against the doorjamb, gripping it with a trembling hand. She wanted Viv. Why didn’t she come? She groaned and suddenly felt herself
damp underneath. What was happening to her? It couldn’t be? No, not at her age! It couldn’t be! Oh God!

‘What’s up?’ George had appeared and was gazing down at her even as Mrs Kelly came out of her house next door.

‘Is she all right?’ said Mrs Kelly, her eyes alight with ghoulish interest. ‘She looks awful!’

‘Go away,’ snapped Hilda. ‘I don’t need your help. I want Viv!’ The pain came again and she bit on her lip to stop herself crying out, not wanting that woman next door to guess what was up with her. But she could not disguise the effort it took as her teeth drew blood.

‘Aunt Hilda, should I phone the doctor?’ said George worriedly. Several of the neighbours had come out and were watching.

‘Perhaps,’ she gasped. ‘But I don’t know if it’ll be any good. I need … where’s Viv?’

George stood up and glanced up the street. ‘No sign of her,’ he said, watching a Land Rover approach.

Hilda’s gaze followed his. ‘That’s Nick. He’s early. Maybe he’ll go and find her?’

The Land Rover came to a halt and the door opened. Viv stepped out. ‘I met Nick down the road,’ she began. ‘What’s going on?’ She frowned down at Hilda. ‘Mam, what are you doing out here not dressed?’

Hilda clutched at the hem of Viv’s coat. ‘I’m in pain, Viv. I need help!’

She placed the shopping bags on the pavement, her expression uncompromising. ‘Not that again, Mam. Come on, get up. I’ll help you into the house.’

‘I’ll get her up,’ said Nick, shooting George a swift glance.

‘No!’ Hilda clung on to Viv’s coat. ‘I’m ill. I’m ill, Viv. Help me.’ She groaned as another contraction made itself felt.

Viv thought, Why does she have to do this to me? She gripped her mother’s arm. ‘Come on, get up!’

‘I can’t! I can’t,’ gasped Hilda.

‘You can!’ cried Viv. Then her eyes met her mother’s and she felt a sudden chill. She
was
in pain and she was scared. Crouching down beside her, Viv said, ‘Where’s the pain, Mam?’

‘In my bloody belly,’ she whispered. ‘I have to go to hospital!’ The pain slackened and she gave a quivering breath.

Mrs Kelly said conversationally, ‘Perhaps it’s appendicitis? They’ll cut her open.’

‘Oh, shut up,’ snarled Viv, her head drawing close to her mother’s. ‘Don’t worry, Mam. You’ll be OK.’

‘It’s not appendicitis, Viv,’ whispered Hilda. ‘Oh God help me! You’ll hate me all over again now. It’s worse than that.’

Viv could only think of one thing worse and that was cancer. ‘You mean …’ The word stuck in her throat.