Winter on the Mersey(90)
Life wouldn’t be worth living if he wasn’t there too, she realised. He was everything she looked for. He was funny and clever, he was the best-looking man she knew, and yet he meant so much more than all of that. He made her body sing just to look at him, and on the few occasions when they touched, her skin reacted as if he’d lit it with a dusting of magic. She was drawn to him by something so fundamental she couldn’t put a name to it. If she was honest with herself, she would have to admit that she’d never felt like that with Elliott, even though she had been extremely fond of him and had begun to think of a future with him. She felt a connection with Frank on another level entirely. She’d known it for years, ever since they’d had that brief dance long ago. Up till then she’d still been like another one of his young sisters. He’d awoken something in her and then he’d had his accident and things had changed between them. Was she really never going to have the chance to put that right?
‘Frank,’ she said. ‘Frank, I’m sorry. I was angry with you and I shouldn’t have been. I just want you to be all right. Can you hear me?’
She strained her ears for any response, but all that came were the low moans, some close by, others further away. Somewhere there was a crumbling noise, as if the rubble was shifting. Would that be the rescuers arriving, or more buildings collapsing on top of them? No, she couldn’t think of that. It was too frightening. She had to stay calm. But where was he?
‘Frank!’ she called again, realising her voice was muffled by the weight of stone above and all around her. He might be just yards away and unable to hear her. ‘Frank!’ she called as loudly as she could, and another sharp jolt of pain shot through her left arm.
There was more silence. Then, faintly, she thought she heard a different noise. She wasn’t sure at first if she was imagining it. Then it came again. ‘Kitty.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
It was dark by the time Alfie left the King’s Head. He wasn’t sure how late it was but it didn’t matter. He’d make his way back home, pick up the car and then take it round to Empire Street and go to see Kitty. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of this before. All he had to do was present himself at her house and she’d be his. To his confused and seething brain, this tangled logic made complete sense.
The walk back to his house seemed far longer than the walk out, but that must be because of the dark. Everything felt as if it lasted longer at night-time, he assured himself. It was nothing to do with his by now somewhat unsteady steps. There was hardly anybody around. It occurred to him that he really had been in the pub for a long time.
Finally he reached his street. There, parked alongside the pavement, was his car. For a moment he wondered if he should go into the house and change into something smarter – Kitty might appreciate a gesture like that. Then he decided against it, as he was bound to bump into his mother and she’d only start interfering. Kitty knew him well enough to take him as he was. He didn’t need to impress her with fancy clothes or nonsense like that.
Luckily his car keys were still in his coat pocket. He had the sudden worrying thought that the battery might be dead after so long without starting it up, but the car didn’t let him down, sputtering to life after only a few attempts. Alfie sighed with pleasure as he put it into gear and released the handbrake. He’d missed being behind the wheel. He was glad he wasn’t one of those people who was affected by drink. He’d be perfectly safe; he’d only had a few pints. He hadn’t even had any whisky today – that proved how sensible he was. Anyway, there were no other vehicles about to get in the way.
After hitting the kerb only a few times, he drew up at the junction to Empire Street. His sense of self-preservation told him not to turn on to the street itself. Not many people owned cars here; his would be easily recognised. Better to park it on the main road and walk the last few yards on foot. It would be easier to get away without having to turn or reverse as well.
He eased himself out of the driver’s seat and left the car unlocked. What he wanted to do wouldn’t take long. He’d be back here with Kitty in no time. He walked unsteadily to her front door and paused. Should he knock? There was no sign of life inside. It was later than he’d planned, and she’d have most likely gone to bed. He tried the handle but the door didn’t budge.
He thought of the times he’d visited Danny here, back in the days before he’d let him down so badly. They always sat in the kitchen, he remembered, and his family and friends often went in and out of the back door. He could make his way around and try that. He didn’t want to cause unnecessary noise, as that might draw Pop out on to the street, the last person he wanted to see.
He stumbled his way around to the alley at the back and found the gate to the Callaghans’ yard. It was bolted, but he soon worked out how to open it. He realised he was making a bit of a noise as he shoved the gate hard, but didn’t think it would be enough to wake anyone. There wasn’t much light but he could make out the shape of a bicycle against the inner wall – that would be Tommy’s. He’d got the correct place all right.
He crept cautiously across the yard and reached the back door. It too was locked. Still, there was nobody to see what he was doing. His usual caution left well behind, he gave the door an almighty shove and the old lock gave way. He pushed it wide open and paused, alert for any noises inside the house, but there were none. He tried to remember what Danny had said over the years about who slept where. He was pretty sure Tommy had the smallest room, facing the back. So that narrowed down where Kitty would be. He knew the layout of the place and navigated his way around the kitchen furniture and into the hall. Silent as a thief, he slowly headed upstairs.