A Mersey Mile (33 page)

Christine prepared herself for her own job. There was just one person to whom she might turn, and that was Norma Charleson. Norma’s weaknesses were known only to her housekeeper, so it
would be a tit-for-tat situation. An unexpected friendship had developed, because each had come to depend on the other. Yes, it had to be Norma, who was not quite the dragon she used to be.
‘If I don’t talk to someone soon, I’ll be ill, too.’ With unsteady hands, she donned her coat and picked up the keys to Norma Charleson’s car. Today. For some
unfathomable reason, it had to be today.

When Christine arrived at Brookside, a slimmer and much fitter Norma was reorganizing the study in preparation for decorators. Now that she had the whole house, she spread herself out and did
some of the cleaning on her better days. This was clearly a better day for her. She opened her mouth to speak to Christine, closing it immediately when she saw the expression on her face.

‘Oh, Norma.’ The housekeeper burst into tears. They flooded down her face like the contents of a small, tidal river. ‘Norma,’ she repeated.

Norma closed the roll top of the desk. ‘Go and sit down in the living room for a while. Put your feet up on that stool. I’ll pop the kettle on and make you a nice, hot cup of
tea.’ In the kitchen, she found herself actually worrying about her employee. She was usually so calm, so controlled and sensible, that this morning’s behaviour had come as a shock. For
once, Norma wanted to help for the right reasons. The concept of living without Christine was not a happy one, but Norma’s need arose from the part of herself that needed a friend rather than
a servant, and this woman was so easy to like.

Christine sat. Normally, the role reversal might have amused her, but this was not a normal time. When she closed her eyes, she saw her child’s immobile face, the expressionless surface
that failed completely to hide whatever was going on beneath the smooth exterior. She said little, ignored her mother’s questions and remarks – surely that showed at the office? Surely
her colleagues had noticed the change?

Norma bustled in bearing tray and tea things and chattering nervously. ‘I always think a nice natter over a cup of tea is better medicine than any doctor can prescribe. Shall I tell you
what he said yesterday?’ Without waiting for a reply, she motored on. ‘He said, ‘‘Mrs Charleson, you need to walk more to get your circulatory system stronger. Build
yourself up to half an hour a day five days a week.’’ Does he think I’m an Olympic athlete? Says I’ll live longer if I get moving. With arthritis? He wants his head
testing.’ She sat. ‘Right you are, you’ve had your weep, I’ve had my moan, so it’s your turn. Come on now, out with it. If you hold it back for much longer,
you’ll crack open like a volcano, and I’ve good carpets and rugs to think about.’

Christine dried her eyes. It tumbled from her, not necessarily in order, but she just let the words pour. ‘Something happened at university, and she thought I hadn’t noticed, but I
did when she came home at the end of one term. She was counting things like marigolds in the garden and tiles in the kitchen, and she talked to herself sometimes. It was horrible, really
frightening. But she seemed to snap out of it, and she’s been fine ever since. I truly thought we’d seen the last of it.’

Norma poured the tea, her hand shaking slightly.

‘She was counting peas last night. And she’s rocking a bit.’

‘Here, drink this.’

‘Thank you. In her bedroom, she whispers to herself. I think she talks to the mirror.’

‘And the counting of peas?’

‘On her plate at the table. Then she has a bath, dresses up and goes out. Every evening, after our meal, she goes out.’

‘Where does she go, then?’

‘I think . . . and I don’t know what makes me say this, but . . . I suspect it’s something to do with Frank. Don’t ask me why, but I get the feeling that she grew fond of
him, though he didn’t return her affection.’

‘My Frank? Are they together?’

Christine shrugged before sipping her tea. ‘She won’t talk to me. She’s always talked to me, even if it was just about which clothes she was going to wear or what we were about
to eat. But she seems out of touch with me, out of touch with life. It’s almost as if she’s stopped being real.’ What she didn’t want to admit was that her daughter had
begun to alter in her teenage years, after the premature death of her father. ‘I think she needs help, Norma.’

‘What? A psychiatrist? From what you’ve told me about Elaine, she’ll never admit that she needs assistance, especially for something of that kind. Too proud by a mile,
Christine.’

‘I know. What am I going to do?’

‘No, no. It’s what are we going to do, love. I’m not having you traipsing about looking for her on your own while you’re in this state. Let me think.’ She thought.
‘So, we don’t know where she goes.’

‘No, we don’t.’

‘And we don’t know what she does or who she sees.’

‘Correct.’

Norma stood up and paced about very well for somebody riddled with arthritis. ‘So we need to know where, what and who.’

‘Yes.’

‘Simple. We follow her when she goes out. What makes you think Frank’s involved?’

‘She talks to him in her sleep, calls his name. But, no, we can’t follow her, she’ll see us. She knows your car, because it’s at our house as often as it’s at
yours. And in spite of her condition, I think she misses nothing. Underneath all this mess, there’s a very astute woman.’

Norma walked up and down again. ‘Right. I’ll get her followed. My dear departed husband believed I knew nothing about his mistress, but I think in the end I knew more about her than
he ever did. When he found out I’d had them followed, and when I had her history printed out, he . . . well, he didn’t last very long. I know a good firm; a very good firm.
They’ll get to the bottom of this for you in next to no time, I promise.’

Christine blinked. ‘Private detectives?’

‘Don’t you worry, dear, because I’ll pay. She won’t know they’re there, believe me. They’re true professionals.’

‘Oh, Norma.’ Christine jumped to her feet. ‘I don’t want all that.’

‘And I don’t want you worrying yourself into an early grave. Just listen to me now. I’ve never been what you might call a nice woman. I married a man who got me out of poverty,
and I didn’t appreciate him. His son – my son – hates me. But I know now, I understand what I was and what I can be if I try. And for some reason I don’t understand, I feel
that my new wisdom came from you. So I shall help you. Leave it all to me.’

‘Thank you. I can’t take as much credit as you think I’m due, because it’s a lot simpler than that. You’re fighting diabetes, and that illness carries depression as
a passenger. Now that your sugar’s balanced, so are you. But thank you for caring.’

‘You’ve done a lot for me.’

‘Even so . . .’

Norma smiled. ‘What are friends for? Look, Elaine’s probably going through a phase, something to do with work or even connected to Frank. I can tell you this – he won’t
hurt her, because it’s not in his nature.’

‘He hurt you, Norma.’

‘I deserved it.’

‘Elaine might deserve it.’

Norma shook her head. ‘Trust him. Please, trust him.’

Christine bit her lip. ‘It may be the other way round, Norma. She might hurt somebody. There’s such a huge change in her, as if she’s angry, agitated, unhappy, dissatisfied and
trying to conceal all that. She may damage herself or someone else – I don’t know. I don’t know what I think, and scarcely know what I’m saying. But she isn’t the
daughter I’ve had for over twenty years. I’m living with a beautiful, empty shell of a girl I used to know.’

‘It must be terrifying.’

‘Yes.’

‘Right. I’ll get the phone book. This must be dealt with now. We’ll need a recent photograph of Elaine and one of Frank, just in case she’s involved with him. Another
thing you must do is go to town and drop in on her at work, see how she behaves there. You can learn a lot by seeing a picture in a different frame.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Oh?’

‘It would be out of character. I’d never do that. She could be in a meeting with clients or with another solicitor.’

‘But you’re her mother.’

‘Exactly. I belong at home in the kitchen or opposite her at the table. She lives her life in separate compartments, rather like most men seem to.’ Christine wrung her hands.
‘Elaine’s already furious about something or somebody, and I’d hate it if she turned on me while she isn’t herself. And she definitely isn’t herself. I’m living
with a stranger. I need only look at her eyes, because they go from glassy to hyperactive in seconds.’

‘Just hang on a minute.’ Norma opened a drawer in a small side table. ‘Yes, here it is. No need to look through the directory, because I seem to have kept his card. Now, I
shall make an appointment and start the ball rolling. The sooner we get to the bottom of this, the better it will be for your sake. The ingratitude of children can be boundless, as can their
cruelty.’

Christine swallowed hard. ‘I think it might be something she can’t help.’

Norma picked up the phone. ‘So you’re definitely talking about mental illness here?’

‘Possibly.’ She didn’t even like to skirt the concept of Elaine’s being mentally ill, so she certainly wasn’t going to discuss it in any more depth. ‘I think
it’s more likely to be emotional.’ Emotional? The girl seldom displayed any feelings. She wanted to marry for money, to remain childless – or child-free, as she termed it –
and she was determined above all to be successful in an area over-populated by men.

Norma replaced the receiver. ‘Well, the thing is, do you really want to know what she’s up to? Will you cope?’

‘I must. You compared me a few minutes ago to a volcano that might blow its top at any moment. We both know why I’m in this state. Well, my daughter would fit the same description,
but I don’t know why. She has shut down as far as I’m concerned, but her brain is on the move all the time.’

‘The counting?’

Christine nodded. She had to talk about it, or she would be the one in need of help. ‘The counting, the rocking, whispering to herself, talking in her sleep. She sometimes looks through
me, as if she sees something beyond and behind me. I am so afraid. If she’s had some kind of brainstorm or breakdown, I need to get help for her. The only way to reach the bottom of it is to
find out where she goes every evening. She comes home at all hours, too.’

‘And says little?’

‘And says virtually nothing.’

‘Though you’ve always been close.’

‘Especially since we lost her father. She was Daddy’s little girl. She focused so hard on her career that she’s possibly forgotten how to enjoy life.’

Norma placed the card on the small side table. ‘Look, let’s drive up to the river and blow the cobwebs away. We don’t need to talk much. But before setting up a meeting with
the Pearson agency, I need to be sure that you’re sure. Come on, I’ll drive.’

Like many Liverpudlians, they repaired to the Mersey when thinking became a necessity. There was something soothing about tidal water when it was in a good mood; it lapped against the shore in a
rhythm that could be hypnotic, though it was a force to be avoided when storms arrived. Today, it was glassy and almost as still as a lake.

‘Does Elaine ever come up here, Christine?’

‘I don’t know.’ It was true. Elaine always did things correctly. She took her mother out for a meal on her birthday, spent Christmas with her, bought food for the larder,
helped with cleaning occasionally. But she seldom gave of herself and rarely acted on impulse. Christine knew few details about her daughter’s life. ‘What I do know is that she did some
legal work for Frank, and she began to change at about the same time.’

‘Could it be my son’s fault, then?’

‘No. She’s been like this before, but not as bad as she is now. And as you said, Frank isn’t a hurtful man.’

‘Sulking? Wants her own way? You’ve said before that she’s spoilt. That’s often the trouble when there’s just one chick in the nest.’

Christine shook her head thoughtfully. ‘It’s gone beyond that. She’s lost control of herself, and I hope that’s not noticed at work, because the job props her up
enormously. My daughter’s a bit like an almost pure diamond with a huge flaw through its middle. Most of the time, it doesn’t show, but if the light catches the gem in a certain way . .
.’ She didn’t finish the sentence.

Gulls swooped over the bay, their raucous cries filling crisp, clear air. Dog walkers strolled along the sand while their canine companions chased each other into the river’s flow. It
would soon be high tide. Ebb and flow was inevitable, and nothing on earth could stop it.

‘You’re right, Norma. Without knowledge, we can do little. And if my daughter’s heading for some kind of collision, I need more information. Let’s go back and make that
phone call before I start dithering again.’

‘Yes, dear. We’ll have another cup of tea, then I’ll make the call.’

They went back to Brookside and Norma managed to get an appointment with Mr Pearson. ‘It will be all right, I’m sure,’ she lied to her companion.

Christine heard the lie, and said nothing more. Only time would tell.

At the beginning of October, Billy Blunt was finally proved right. Due to the persistence of Father Christopher Foley and several police forces, articles discovered near the
corpse found in Derbyshire were described by a group of travellers who had lost a family member. The rosary was outlined accurately right down to its colour and a bent crucifix, as was the
clothing, tiny scraps of which had been retrieved. The deceased had been overweight, and he’d always carried a child’s rosary given to him over half a century earlier by his parents. He
had been a drinker, had wandered off from time to time, and had last been seen outside Buxton earlier in the year.

Chris and Billy lingered together in the rear doorway of the Blunts’ house in Dryden Street. They were watching a pair of lunatic pups leaping about ecstatically in the backyard. Daniel
the spaniel and Kaybee the Kerry Blue were as mad as hatters, and each deteriorated considerably in the company of the other. At this point in time, they were one fat, black puppy with eight legs,
two heads and many teeth.