Read Online The Liverpool Trilogy by Ruth Hamilton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ruth Hamilton
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proper nosedive. Cholesterol’s in the hills, heartbeat irregular but settling, and he has a chance if he avoids booze and stress.’
‘Then that’s no chance,’ Liz replied. ‘He has a first class honours in stress, and while he’s awake and breathing, he drinks. Looking back, I can scarcely remember an evening at home when he didn’t have a whisky tumbler in his hand. Hopeless.’
The nurse wrote something on a chart. ‘Aye. It’s a bugger, isn’t it, love? I married a boozer, but I soon got shut. He was more pickled than a jar of silverskin onions, and nasty with it. He came home one night, put the chip pan on, forgot, fell asleep and burned my house down. I was on nights, fortunately. They got him out. The insurance covered the mess, but I wasn’t insured against him, was I? So I got rid. Of him and the chip pan.’ She left the room.
Lizzie stared down at the creature on the bed. This used to be her father. This used to be the man who’d taken her and her brothers to Alton Towers, to Blackpool, Southport, the Lake District, Florida, France, Italy and Spain. Mother had just tagged along like a nanny, while he had provided all the entertainment. ‘Mother read a lot,’ she said to the figure and all his machines. ‘She stood back and let you take the credit for all of it. But Paul and Mike weren’t taken in. They knew she was head and shoulders above you. But I love you. I shall always, always love you. Silly man. You have to wake eventually. You have to face up to what’s happening, Daddy.’
Being a woman wasn’t easy. The first man in a girl’s life was eternally forgivable, but suitors and husbands weren’t. ‘If a man treated me like you treated her, I’d be in jail ten times over.’ She was starting to think deeply about her mother for the first time ever. How had she coped? How had she kept all that anger inside, all that frustration so well hidden? And why had she taken all the money, why had she mortgaged a house so precious to her? It was all so . . . extraordinary.
‘Have you been telling us lies, Daddy?’ she asked.
A light came on, and a loud, continuous note sounded. Lizzie found herself out in the corridor. The crash trolley was rolled in, and staff shouted orders like ‘Clear’, and ‘Charging to two hundred’. They were bringing him back. Well, they were trying to. The child in Lizzie sat with a bunched fist pushed against her mouth, because she would not scream. Brave little girls didn’t scream when in hospital, at the dentist’s, at the doctor’s surgery. ‘Don’t leave me, Daddy. Please don’t go.’
The plain-spoken nurse appeared. She looked hot, as if she had been in a Turkish bath. ‘He’s back, love. Go home. Get some sleep.’
‘I can’t,’ she replied. ‘I just can’t do that.’
The nurse sat down next to Lizzie. ‘Your brother didn’t stay long.’
‘No.’ Liz inhaled deeply. ‘He’s one of a pair of identical twins. The other one fell into a river – he’s in the Countess of Chester.’
‘Bloody hell! More than your fair share of trouble, then. And your mam? Where’s she?’
‘No idea, but if she’s heard about what’s happened she’s probably at the Countess of Chester with Paul and Mike. She ran away, you see. Just upped and offed with her clothes and every penny in the bank. No warning. It was like a magic trick but without the smoke.’
‘I don’t blame her. I told you what happened to me, eh? Women don’t bolt unless they’re pushed into it. You’ve got to start thinking about it from her point of view, love. Your dad will either live or die. He’s committing slow suicide. She’s probably wanting some space for thought, a break while she starts divorce proceedings.’
‘Divorce?’
‘Aye. She’s gone to start a new life, sweetie. Some women just go – they need to get away
from
whatever. They go when they’re in the middle of making dinner, ironing, washing or some such drudgery. Usually younger than your
‘Then that’s no chance,’ Liz replied. ‘He has a first class honours in stress, and while he’s awake and breathing, he drinks. Looking back, I can scarcely remember an evening at home when he didn’t have a whisky tumbler in his hand. Hopeless.’
The nurse wrote something on a chart. ‘Aye. It’s a bugger, isn’t it, love? I married a boozer, but I soon got shut. He was more pickled than a jar of silverskin onions, and nasty with it. He came home one night, put the chip pan on, forgot, fell asleep and burned my house down. I was on nights, fortunately. They got him out. The insurance covered the mess, but I wasn’t insured against him, was I? So I got rid. Of him and the chip pan.’ She left the room.
Lizzie stared down at the creature on the bed. This used to be her father. This used to be the man who’d taken her and her brothers to Alton Towers, to Blackpool, Southport, the Lake District, Florida, France, Italy and Spain. Mother had just tagged along like a nanny, while he had provided all the entertainment. ‘Mother read a lot,’ she said to the figure and all his machines. ‘She stood back and let you take the credit for all of it. But Paul and Mike weren’t taken in. They knew she was head and shoulders above you. But I love you. I shall always, always love you. Silly man. You have to wake eventually. You have to face up to what’s happening, Daddy.’
Being a woman wasn’t easy. The first man in a girl’s life was eternally forgivable, but suitors and husbands weren’t. ‘If a man treated me like you treated her, I’d be in jail ten times over.’ She was starting to think deeply about her mother for the first time ever. How had she coped? How had she kept all that anger inside, all that frustration so well hidden? And why had she taken all the money, why had she mortgaged a house so precious to her? It was all so . . . extraordinary.
‘Have you been telling us lies, Daddy?’ she asked.
A light came on, and a loud, continuous note sounded. Lizzie found herself out in the corridor. The crash trolley was rolled in, and staff shouted orders like ‘Clear’, and ‘Charging to two hundred’. They were bringing him back. Well, they were trying to. The child in Lizzie sat with a bunched fist pushed against her mouth, because she would not scream. Brave little girls didn’t scream when in hospital, at the dentist’s, at the doctor’s surgery. ‘Don’t leave me, Daddy. Please don’t go.’
The plain-spoken nurse appeared. She looked hot, as if she had been in a Turkish bath. ‘He’s back, love. Go home. Get some sleep.’
‘I can’t,’ she replied. ‘I just can’t do that.’
The nurse sat down next to Lizzie. ‘Your brother didn’t stay long.’
‘No.’ Liz inhaled deeply. ‘He’s one of a pair of identical twins. The other one fell into a river – he’s in the Countess of Chester.’
‘Bloody hell! More than your fair share of trouble, then. And your mam? Where’s she?’
‘No idea, but if she’s heard about what’s happened she’s probably at the Countess of Chester with Paul and Mike. She ran away, you see. Just upped and offed with her clothes and every penny in the bank. No warning. It was like a magic trick but without the smoke.’
‘I don’t blame her. I told you what happened to me, eh? Women don’t bolt unless they’re pushed into it. You’ve got to start thinking about it from her point of view, love. Your dad will either live or die. He’s committing slow suicide. She’s probably wanting some space for thought, a break while she starts divorce proceedings.’
‘Divorce?’
‘Aye. She’s gone to start a new life, sweetie. Some women just go – they need to get away
from
whatever. They go when they’re in the middle of making dinner, ironing, washing or some such drudgery. Usually younger than your
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