Goodnight Lady (61 page)

Might even get enough to buy his own place. He wouldn’t be playing the piano for much longer, the rheumatism had set in and his hands were getting to be less than useless.

He sat back in the chair contemplating his good fortune in meeting Delroy and Skip. Or ‘Mr Skip’ as he had to call him. Mr Skip to an Eyetalian! He smiled to himself at the thought. They were no better than him, they were just immigrants. His forefather had been in the States a mighty long time, longer than Paquale and his so-called family.

He knew the drink was making him aggressive and closed his eyes, once more seeing the creamy limbs of Kerry Cavanagh. She had been one hell of a loving woman.

She had also been his downfall, and he was looking forward to paying her back.

Skip looked at the big, bloated man sitting opposite him and hid his disgust.

‘We move in tomorrow. You stop your drinking now, you hear?’

Evander opened one yellowing bloodshot eye and nodded. So tomorrow was the big day?

Big deal.

He drank the last of his whisky and, getting up unsteadily, made his way to bed.

 

Liselle woke up and looked out of her window. It was early December and in the night it had snowed. The snow already lay thick and quiet everywhere. It was just after five-thirty. She had only dozed. In her mother’s room she heard the radio playing. Liselle pulled on a dressing gown and went in to her. Kerry lay on her bed still in the crumpled green wrapper, a glass of orange juice in her hand. Liselle sighed. Taking the drink from her mother she sipped it and raised her eyebrows.

Kerry laughed huskily.

‘Ain’t a drink to be found in the house. I take it you had a good hide up before you went to bed?’

Liselle had the grace to go red.

‘It’s snowing.’

Kerry laughed again.

‘I know. I hate the snow meself. Always did. When we were kids, in the basements, snow could mean death. Honestly.’ Her voice sobered. ‘It was so cold in there anyway, damp and smelly. We woke up one morning and the whole inside of the room had a film of ice everywhere. Little babies froze to death that year. Little tiny babies. We used to have blue feet, navy blue feet, with big red sores on them.’

Liselle snapped at her, ‘Stop it, Mum. For goodness’ sakes!’

Kerry heaved a heavy sigh. ‘I’m sorry, Lissy. It’s just that I woke up thinking morbid thoughts. I have a feeling on me that something bad’s going to happen. It’s the snow, I think. I hate the solitude of snow. Even if you shout it somehow muffles your voice.’

Liselle shook her head.

‘I think the trouble’s already started.’

Kerry sat up in the bed and frowned. Liselle saw in the harsh light of day the veins beginning on her mother’s cheeks from the drink. The deep hollows under her eyes that her make-up would make disappear, to leave her looking beautiful and young. Too young for this dark-haired girl to be her daughter. Yet unlike other mothers, Kerry always told people about her daughter and never, ever lied about her age.

‘What do you mean, love?’

‘Last night there was murders round Auntie Briony’s with me gran.’

Kerry laughed then in relief.

‘There’s always murders where your gran’s concerned! Give her a drink and you’ve got a loony on your hands.’

Kerry’s dismissive tone annoyed Liselle and she said nastily, ‘Yeah, well, last night she informed the whole world and his wife that I should have been aborted. That having an illegitimate child was bad enough, but one like me ... That’s what she said, Mum. Those were her exact words.’

Kerry scrambled up so she was kneeling. ‘Did she say anything else, girl? Did you say anything about me? About you as a baby?’

‘Did she mention my father, you mean? No. But if it’s not too much trouble, I wouldn’t mind knowing who he was. After all, he is my dad! My father. The man who made me, if you like.’

Kerry’s face blanched a sickly white. Liselle tried again, calmer this time.

‘I have a right to know, Mum. I’m nearly twenty-two and no one seems to tell me anything. I don’t know his name, nothing about him. I wonder, you know. I always have.’

Kerry licked her lips and stared at the beautiful girl in front of her. The girl she loved but who was a permanent reminder of what she had done, what she had been too cowardly to do. How many times over the years had she wished she had got on a boat and gone to find him? As she had wanted to. But she was a coward. It was easier to rely on the strength of Briony, to stay with her family, than to trek thousands of miles to a man who might reject her, who might have told her the truth about their relationship. Who had been beaten over her. Who must hate her for her part in his eventual downfall. That’s why she refused down and out to sing in the States, or even to go there. It was still an open wound.

Now here was her child, the result of her union with Evander Dorsey, asking her for the truth. Could she say to her: ‘I spoke to him yesterday, he rang me up. Your father’s near, only I feel inside he’s here to harm us. Not here to be welcomed with open arms by his old lover and his daughter.’ No, she couldn’t ever tell her that.

Instead she said, ‘Why don’t you let me worry about things, love? Your father was a nice kind man who left us. He didn’t want to but he had to. Now leave it at that, and go and make me a nice strong pot of coffee. There’s a good girl.’

Kerry’s voice brooked no argument, Liselle had heard that tone many times over the years. Especially when she had asked about her father. Seething inside with anger, she flounced from the room, banging the door behind her. Kerry got up and lit herself a cigarette. Going to the window, she looked out at the white expanse of roofs and road. Blinking back tears, she smoked her cigarette in silence.

Out there somewhere was Evander Dorsey. It had been him yesterday, she would know that rich dark velvet voice anywhere. He was out there somewhere waiting for her and their child.

 

Boysie and Danny sat in Mrs Horlock’s room with Cissy and Briony, listening to the story of Liselle’s birth. They sat side by side on the bed, their sleek heads bowed as between them the three women told them the story from start to finish. When Briony got to the part about Kevin Carter’s breaking Evander’s fingers they both looked up and nodded, as if silently agreeing with his actions. It was the only time they moved. Mrs H watched them with shrewd rheumy eyes.

‘That bloke went and we was all glad, it could only bring trouble to her, Kerry. She couldn’t see that herself, not then. But then the child...’

Boysie shook his head.

‘So Liselle is a half-chat then? Her dad was some soot piano player me Auntie Kerry was boffing ...’ He sounded disgusted. Somehow guessing something and finding out it was true were two completely different things.

Briony shook her head.

‘Evander was a handsome man. If it had been today, who knows? Plenty of women have half-chats, as you call them, now. The Americans saw to that, son. But this was in the 1920s. It just wasn’t done then. It just wasn’t done.’

‘But Auntie Kerry with a big soot!’ Boysie’s face was twisted with contempt.

Briony slapped his face, the crack resounding in the room. Danny stood up as if ready to fight her while Boysie rubbed at his smarting cheek.

Briony pointed at them and bellowed: ‘That’s my sister you’re talking about. You wanted to know and we told you. Don’t you get bloody lairy with me over the truth, I won’t have it, you hear me? Liselle is your flesh and blood, boys. Why should anything change now? So her father was a soot. Big deal. He was a talented, handsome man as well.’

Danny stared at her and said quietly, ‘If he was such a saint, why did you go to such lengths to get rid of him?’

‘Because of this, the way you’re acting. By Christ, I thought I’d brought you up a bit better than this. Your mother loved that little child when she was born. She doted on her. If you ain’t inherited any care for people from me, I had hoped at least that my Eileen’s tolerance would have rubbed off on you. You’re like me mother. Everything has to be cut and dried. Well, the real world ain’t like that. We never know where our heart’s going to lie. You two have got to fall for someone yet, and believe me you don’t know who it could be. It could be the biggest whore God ever put on this earth, but something could make you want her. That’s real life, my loves.

‘With my Kerry it was him. Black as night, handsome as the devil. He was like her, talented and beautiful. It was inevitable they’d fall in love. Only small-minded people like you two and me mother - and me, me as well — stopped them being together. Sometimes I look at her with the drink in her and it’s like a knife twisting in me. I stopped her going to him, and the upshot’s the fact that she’s never known a happy day since. Not really. She kept Liselle and that’s all power to her as far as I’m concerned.’

Boysie and Danny looked at Briony in shock.

‘It’s the thought of it, Mum ... I mean, whoever’s gonna want Liselle now?’

‘Whoever gets Liselle will be a damned lucky fellow. That girl’s worth fifty of others roundabout. Briony’s right. Don’t fall prey to small-mindedness, lads. It’s a sin against God.’

Cissy’s voice, normally good-humoured, was so vehement that the boys stared at her hard. Briony could have kissed her. It took good old Cissy, the funster, the woman the twins had always played pranks on and whom they loved in a haphazard, affectionate way, to put it all in perspective.

‘She’s still your cousin, who grew up with you, who you played with, who you always loved. She ain’t changed because she has a bit of the tarbrush in her. It just makes her different to outsiders, that’s all. Now, how about I make a nice pot of strong tea?’

Cissy made everything normal once more. Had taken the edge off the proceedings.

‘I’ll have a cup, me mouth feels like a buzzard’s crutch.’

‘Oh, Mrs H! You’re disgusting.’ Boysie’s voice was overloud.

Cissy left to make the tea, Briony sat on the bed and sighed.

‘Don’t let Liselle know about all this. Let me tell her when the time’s right. Don’t treat her any differently, will you? Don’t hurt her more than she’s been hurt, and she’s gonna be hurt.’

Danny nodded.

‘Don’t worry, Mum, we’ll look after her. And if any of this does ever get out, well then, people can bastard well answer to us!’

 

The phone rang while Liselle was in the shower. Kerry picked it up hesitantly.

‘Hello?’ It was a question.

‘Hello, Kerry baby. It’s me, Evander.’

She closed her eyes as the feelings enveloped her once more. It was as if the past was there in the room with her.

‘Kerry? Answer me, girl. Aren’t you pleased to hear from me? I’ve seen my daughter. I’ve seen you, too.’

Kerry’s mouth was dry.

‘What do you want, Evander? Tell me?’

‘I jus’ want to see you again, for old time’s sake. I don’t want no trouble, girl. I had enough of that the last time.’

Kerry nodded, as if he could see her. ‘When... When do you want to see me?’

‘How about this afternoon? I know you’re working tonight.’

Kerry didn’t question how he knew this. Instead she said: ‘Where? What time?’

‘I’ve rented a little house in Notting Hill Gate. It’s number sixteen Rillington Place. I’ll expect you about two-thirty.’

Kerry nodded into the phone again, unable to speak properly.

Evander spoke once more, a worried tone in his voice. ‘You are gonna come, girl? I’ll be expecting you.’

‘Yes... I’ll be there.’

He laughed throatily. ‘See you then.’

Kerry stared at the phone in terror. It was him. She had been right. And no matter how she tried to believe him when he said he was only here to see her for old time’s sake, the frightened feeling inside her wouldn’t go away.

 

Skip Paquale had sent his henchmen out for the rest of the day. Together he and Evander set up the front room of the little house ready for Kerry’s visit. A tape recorder was hidden inside a box on the mahogany coffee table by the settee. They tested it three times before Skip was happy with it. Finally, placing a bottle of Wild Turkey and a bottle of vodka on the same table, with two glasses, he was satisfied.

‘I’m warning you, Dorsey, don’t get tanked up and ruin this or you’ll be sorry. I want her right where I can really bleed her. You just reminisce with her, that’s all, and find out about the girl. Get me?’

Evander nodded.

‘That girl’s a gold mine to us. A real gold mine. Without her we ain’t gonna get a dime. Keep that in mind.’

Evander nodded again. In spite of everything, he had a sudden longing to see Kerry. Really see her. He found he was genuinely interested in the child. In his girl. Hearing Kerry’s voice, after all this time, was something he had not been prepared for. He lit up one of his cheap cheroots and then his mind clouded again. Every time he looked at his hands it hurt him. Through Kerry he had lost his livelihood. His talent. He mustn’t ever let himself forget that.

No one was worth the price he’d paid: years in dingy little dives, each day the crippling of his hands becoming more and more apparent. Each year the bitterness inside him growing. Until now. He was back in England once more, only this time he wasn’t here to hit the big time and make a fortune. This time he was here to make blood money off the back of the woman who’d been like a Jonah to him from the day he had first laid eyes on her. She had had his child, his daughter, but that was nothing, he had to remember that. The child was his passport out of chocolate town and back into the real world where money cushioned everything. The colour of your skin, the roots you came from, even what friends you had.

With his own place he could be someone again. Evander Dorsey could once more hold his head up, could once more have a future.