The Girl From Seaforth Sands (23 page)

‘I telled him, Amy,’ Paddy said in a constricted voice. ‘I telled Uncle Bill I’d been mistook, that it weren’t Tommy you was with. I . . . I’m sure he heard . . . I’m real sorry, Amy, I never meant . . .’

‘Get your bleedin’ hands off me, Paddy Keagan,’ Amy said and now her voice was rock steady and
cold as ice, and even the tears seemed to have dried on her cheeks. ‘You’re a liar and a troublemaker and I don’t want anything to do with you, now or never. Bugger off! It’s my dad lying ill in this place, mine and Gus’s and Albert’s, not yours. Go back to your mammy – she believed your lies and tried to make things worse . . . why, she did her best to stop me coming to the hospital.’

Albert jerked his head at Paddy. ‘She’s right, Paddy . . . oh, I know you love Dad near on as much as we do, but for now . . .’

‘I’ll wait here, then,’ Paddy said in a low voice. ‘Amy, I swear to God I didn’t mean no harm . . .’

‘Shut up!’ Amy said, but still coldly, not with the heat that the phrase implied. ‘Go back to Seafield Grove, to your gran’s house mind, not ours. Because I never want to set eyes on you again.’

To her secret surprise, Paddy turned and went down the stairs with dragging steps.

The two Logans made their way towards the ward where Bill lay. Albert turned to his sister. ‘You were a bit hard on him, queen,’ he said gently. ‘I know you think he were tryin’ to make mischief – likely he was – but you could have accepted that he were sorry. He did try to tell our dad that he’d been wrong, it hadn’t been Tommy Chee you were with, but . . . to tell you the truth, I don’t think Dad believed what Paddy had told him in the first place, honest to God I don’t. I think he wanted to go out to meet you, and Paddy saying what he did was a good excuse for ignorin’ Suzie and getting out of the house anyway.’

There was a commotion up the corridor, and a group of people came through the swing doors on the left and walked towards them. ‘It’s the doc,’
Albert whispered, drawing Amy to a halt. ‘We’ll have a word.’

The doctor was a tall, elderly man, with tiny gold spectacles perched on a long, thin nose. He was almost bald and he looked weary and preoccupied, but when his eyes fell on the two youngsters he smiled kindly and patted Albert’s shoulder. ‘You’ll be young Logan, William Logan’s boy, and this must be your sister,’ he said in a thin, educated voice. ‘Well, I’m afraid your father does have a touch of pneumonia, but he’s a strong man with plenty of staying power and I see no reason why he shouldn’t pull round – with good nursing, that is.’ He glanced at the two young women who flanked him, one on each side. The ward sister and a staff nurse, Amy guessed. ‘These ladies will see to that, you may be sure. I’ve had a word with your father . . .’

‘Oh, sir, is he conscious?’ the words broke from Amy and Albert simultaneously. ‘I thought my brother said he hadn’t come round,’ Amy added.

‘Yes, he’s conscious, and presently we hope he’ll take a mouthful or two of nourishing broth,’ the doctor told her. ‘You may go and see him to calm your fears, but you may only stay two minutes. He’s still very weak and needs all the rest we can give him.’

‘Won’t we be allowed to sit with him?’ Albert asked with a strange mixture of timidity and belligerence. ‘Me stepmother and me big brother was spelling each other by the bed, and we were going to take over until one of them comes back.’

The doctor smiled at them very kindly, but shook his head. ‘No need, now, to keep a constant watch on him,’ he said. ‘He’ll rest a deal easier
without eyes on him for, as I’ve said, it’s sleep and nourishing food which will restore his strength. You tell the rest of your family they may come in for ten minutes only tomorrow morning and then we’ll see.’

‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ Albert muttered, as the doctor strode away from them. ‘What if Dad needs something? I’d sooner one of us is by, even if it’s Suzie.’

But the staff nurse, who had stayed with them, smiled and shook her head. ‘No, lad, your dad’s on a general ward now he’s come round and norrin the end cubicle by hisself. The nursing staff will keep an eye on him, of course, but the other patients will fetch someone if your father needs anything. Why, if we had relatives at every bedside twenty-four hours a day, we wouldn’t be able to get inside the ward, let alone nurse the patients.’

As she spoke she had guided them into a long ward with at least twenty beds, in the nearest of which Amy immediately recognised her father. He was propped up in the narrow iron bedstead, with a number of pillows and another nurse was bending over him, helping him to drink out of an object which looked like a small white teapot. Bill took a long swallow; Amy could see his throat convulsing, then he shook his head and the nurse stood the teapot down on his bedside locker. ‘Well done, Mr Logan,’ she said softly, ‘you’ll feel all the better for that I’m sure. And now you’ve got visitors, so I’ll leave you for a while.’

Albert slid a wooden bench out from under the bed and pulled it close, so that Amy could take her father’s hand in hers. ‘Oh, Dad, you’re looking much better,’ she said eagerly. ‘We’ve been so worried – especially me. I felt it was my fault that you’d
had to go out in the snow because if you’d not gone to meet me, none of this would have happened.’ She gestured vaguely towards the bed.

Bill looked puzzled. He put a hand up to his head and winced as his fingers encountered the enormous lump on his brow. ‘I slipped on the ice when I were comin’ to meet you off your tram,’ he said in a small voice, totally unlike his usual firm tones. ‘Only you never come. Where was you, queen?’

Amy hesitated. She did not really want to tell her father what she and Ruth had been doing, but she reflected that lies and evasions never did anyone any good in the long run. ‘Do you remember my pal, Ruthie?’ she enquired. ‘Well, she’s come back to Seaforth to live. She’s got a job quite near the market so, after work, her and me went looking for a room to share, so’s we’d be nearer our work, like. We found a place . . .’

Bill had been listening, with his eyes fixed on her face, but suddenly his hand shot out and gripped hers. ‘Amy, you mustn’t leave home, queen,’ he said urgently. ‘Suzie’s a good wife to me, but she’s not a manager like your mam was. I know she hasn’t always treated you like she should, but I’ll change all that if only you’ll promise me you won’t leave us in the lurch.’

Amy was touched by the entreaty in her father’s blue eyes and worried by the trembling grip of his hot, damp hand. ‘It’s all right, Dad,’ she said soothingly, ‘we couldn’t afford the room we saw, but if you truly want me at home then we shan’t go looking for anything else. Honest to God we won’t.’

Bill’s fingers slipped from hers and he heaved a satisfied sigh. ‘You’re a good girl, queen,’ he said huskily. ‘I dunno what we’d do wi’out you and that’s the truth. Promise me . . .’

The staff nurse who had brought them up to the ward appeared by the bedside and tapped Amy on the shoulder. ‘Your two minutes is up, dear,’ she said briskly. ‘You run along home now and come back to see your dad again tomorrow. By then he’ll be much more the thing – and don’t forget to tell Mrs Logan that Mr Logan is on the general ward now and she can come in for just ten minutes tomorrow morning, no longer.’ She turned to Bill. ‘Nurse tells me you had a couple of sips of beef tea for her, so how about having another couple of sips for me?’

All the way home on the tram, Amy sat beside Albert in thoughtful silence, murmuring replies to his remarks, but never making any contribution of her own to the conversation. She had promised her father that she would go home, would not leave either the family or Suzie in the lurch, but she was beginning to realise that if life in the Logan household were to be bearable she would have to have a serious talk with Suzie. What was more, she would have to sort things out with Paddy, because no matter how you looked at it, if she kept her threat and never spoke to Paddy again it would make for a very uncomfortable atmosphere.

The tram was an old and noisy one, however, and very soon Albert fell silent, defeated as much by the effort of shouting to Amy above the rattle and roar of the vehicle as by Amy’s long silences. But when they reached the Rimrose Bridge and climbed stiffly down, Albert asked her outright what she intended to do. ‘I didn’t know you were so unhappy, queen,’
he said gently, giving her shoulders a brotherly squeeze. ‘But I heared you tell Dad you’d been after a room share wi’ young Ruthie Durrant and, now I think about it, it can’t have been much fun for you livin’ in the same house as Paddy. I dunno what’s the matter wi’ him,’ he added broodingly. ‘When you was kids he were always rude and nasty to you, but I thought that was on account o’ Mary – him havin’ a crush on her, I mean. I thought he were nasty to you to . . . to kind of contrast with how he danced attendance on our Mary. I thought it’d stop once Mary left, but it didn’t, did it? He’s still gorrit in for you, though he don’t call you “Shrimpy” so much, nor shout at you in the street.’

‘Well, I don’t like him much,’ Amy admitted honestly. ‘Looking back, I can’t for the life of me remember how it started, or who started it for that matter. It should be different now we’re older, but somehow Paddy always seems to want to get me into trouble and once he moved in . . .’

‘Yes, I know, it’s just gone from bad to worse,’ Albert cut in. ‘But it’ll be different now, Amy. He’s rare ashamed of what he telled our dad and if you play your cards right he’ll be your pal from now on, I’m thinkin’. All you’ve gorra do is accept his apology. Then you can start afresh, like.’

‘But I said I’d never speak to him again and I meant it,’ Amy pointed out. ‘He told a deliberate lie to put me in Dad’s bad books and look what has happened as a result, Albert. Our dad’s ever so ill. He could easily die and it was all Paddy’s fault.’

‘No it weren’t, queen,’ Albert said reprovingly. ‘You’ve gorra take some of the blame, you know. You went gaddin’ off to look at rooms and missed the last tram, off your own bat, in a bleedin’
blizzard, you know you did. Why, our dad would’ve gone chasin’ off after you, Paddy or no Paddy, once it got to ten o’clock in that weather an’ no sign of you. Be fair, our Amy.’

Since this uncomfortable thought had already crossed Amy’s mind, she felt her cheeks grow hot and nodded grudgingly. ‘Yes, you’ve got a point, Albert. It’s no use trying to blame Paddy for everything – what is it Dad says? It takes two to make a quarrel. But Albert, you should have heard the way Suzie lit into me. She called me every bad name she could lay her tongue to, screaming like a fishwife and saying it was all my fault her Bill was took bad.’ She snorted derisively. ‘
Her Bill
, indeed! He’s our dad, isn’t he, and he’s been our dad a lot longer than he’s been
her Bill
!’

‘Yes, I know what you mean,’ Albert admitted. ‘When they was first wed I thought Suzie had hooked him like you hook a big sea bass, and hauled him aboard her boat an’ all, but since then I’ve watched ’em a fair bit an’ that Suzie’s rare fond of our dad, queen. He’s older than her and he don’t take her about much, but she fair worships the ground he walks on. The reason she’s nasty to you is jealousy, pure an’ simple. You’re our dad’s favourite and always have been, so she resents it o’ course. Now, be honest, our Amy. Ain’t that the truth?’

‘Ye–es, but there’s nothing pure or simple about jealousy,’ Amy pointed out. ‘I can’t help being Dad’s favourite – if I am, that is. Why, I’m a kid and Suzie’s a woman grown. She ought to know better than pick on me the way she does. I often want to tell her to do her own work when I come in from the market to find cleaning and housework waiting to be done, but I never do. Sometimes she’s not too bad,
but Paddy sets her agin me whenever he can. He’s tried tale-clatting to Dad, too, in the past, but he knows his mam wants to believe bad of me, so he does better telling his tales to her. So what’ll I do, Albert? I can’t move out now I’ve promised Dad I’ll stay, but things are bound to be awkward.’

They had walked down Crosby Road, so busy discussing their problem that Amy had scarcely glanced at the big houses which lay between them and the sea. Turning into Seafield Grove, she tugged at Albert’s arm, drawing him to a halt. ‘What’ll I do?’ she asked plaintively. ‘I know I promised Dad and I’ll stick to my word but it isn’t going to be much of a life for any of us if Suzie goes on picking on me, and Paddy and I don’t speak.’

Albert laughed. ‘Talk to them,’ he advised. ‘Tell Suzie you’re doing your best and don’t need the constant nagging she hands out. Tell Paddy you’ll be civil if he will. If that don’t do the trick you’ll have to talk to Dad again – when he’s well, I mean. But Paddy’s awright really, you know. He’s been a good pal to me in the past and maybe, once things are sorted out, he’ll be a good pal to you as well.’

Amy sniffed, but began to walk towards their home once more. ‘I’ll do it for Dad’s sake,’ she said decisively. ‘Oh, Gawd, I think I’d rather face a man-eating tiger than that Suzie when she’s got a cob on and she isn’t going to be happy when we tell her she can’t see Dad except for ten minutes tomorrow morning. Still an’ all, I’m doing this for Dad. Come on, Albert.’ And with head held high and bumping heart, she headed for home, with Albert close on her heels.

Amy hurried along Crosby Road, taking deep breaths of the mild spring air. She was excited because Dad was coming out of hospital today after almost two months of illness, for he had indeed contracted pneumonia and, despite good nursing, there had been times when even the doctor had doubted Bill’s ability to pull through.

But Bill had fought the disease and conquered it. Some four weeks ago the medical staff had known they were going to win the fight, and Sister had told Amy that Bill’s lungs were clear and it was just a matter of building up his strength. Since then, Amy had been able to chart his improvement on her daily visits, and she and Suzie had watched with delight as Bill began to fret against his imprisonment. He wanted to be out and about for, though he trusted Gus, Charlie and Albert so far as it went, he could not believe that the lads could possibly bring in catches such as he habitually did when spring arrived.

What was more, although Charlie had been willing to help in the boat while Bill was in hospital, he was eager to return to the maltings, where he had not only a good job but a young lady, whom he missed badly. ‘They’re keepin’ me job for me and Lottie’s not the sort of girl to let a feller down,’ he had told Amy. ‘But I’m doing well down there, queen, and though I know Dad’s happy with Suzie, I can’t say I care for her much meself. I’ll stay whiles I’m needed, but as soon as Dad’s well enough to work again I’ll be off.’