Queen of the Mersey by Maureen Lee Page A

and two magazines. Laura picked them up. Both were well-thumbed copies of Enid Blyton’s Sunny Stories.
    Earlier that day, she’d flippantly remarked to Vera that she could have killed Roddy for volunteering, but the anger she’d felt then was nothing compared to the anger she felt now. Laura had a strong urge to strangle Mrs Tate with her own bare hands.
    ‘She’s done a bunk, I’m afraid. She’s gone to London with one of the customers, a chap by the name of Derek Norris,’ Roddy reported breathlessly. He’d been despatched to the Black Horse as soon as he’d finished his dinner to establish the whereabouts of their missing upstairs neighbour. ‘The landlord was highly indignant because she gave him less than twenty-four hours’ notice.’
    ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish!’ Laura snarled. She was washing the dishes with unnecessary vigour.
    Roddy did a double-take. ‘Lo! The last few days you’ve been quite frightening.
    There’s a side to you I never knew you had.’
    ‘I didn’t know I had it either.’
    ‘I quite like it.’ He slid his arms around her waist. ‘There’s something happening tomorrow that you don’t know about,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘Please don’t be mad.’
    ‘What?’ she snapped.
    ‘We’re getting married.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘I got an emergency licence, but last night I was too scared to tell you.
    Tomorrow, Saturday, at precisely twelve-fifteen, you shall become Mrs Roderick Bennett Oliver at the registry office in Brougham Terrace. That’s if you want to,’ he said meekly, nuzzling her neck. ‘Then your name will be down as my next-of-kin, not my parents.’
    ‘So they can write and tell me that you’re dead?’ Laura said bitterly. ‘Oh, Roddy!’ She turned and put her wet arms around his neck. ‘You know quite well I want to marry you, and of course I’m not mad. We should have done it before.’
    ‘I know, darling. I always thought we would, one day, but now it seems sort of necessary.’
     
    Hester seemed quite taken with Queenie, perhaps because she was a welcome contrast to the belligerent, bossy Mary. What Queenie’s feelings were, no one knew. She looked dazed and kept glancing nervously over her shoulder, as if expecting her mother to appear and drag her away. The two girls sat on the sofa, Queenie reading Sunny Stories aloud to an entranced Hester. To Laura’s surprise, she read well in a high, sweet voice, not once stumbling over a word.
    At nine o’clock, Laura suggested the girls went to bed and that Queenie should sleep in her mother’s room upstairs. Hester’s bed was much too narrow, even for two small people.
    ‘But she might come back and find me!’ The girl’s eyes were wide with horror.
    ‘Just in case she does, I’ll bolt the door on the inside,’ Laura promised.
    ‘Don’t worry, I’ll let her in,’ she said when Queenie seemed just as horrified at the idea of her mother being locked out, even if she dreaded her coming back.
    ‘You’ll have plenty of time to go to your own room.’ But not if I’ve got anything to do with it, she added to herself. She’d forgotten Queenie loved the cruel woman who had almost certainly gone for ever.
    She went upstairs with the girl and tucked her in. ‘Good night, dear,’ she said gently, giving the clumpy hair a little pat.
    Roddy had already put Hester to bed when she came down. ‘What will happen to Queenie?’ he asked.
    ‘I’ve no idea,’ Laura confessed. ‘All I can think of is going to the police. I doubt if she’s capable of looking after herself.’
    ‘That seems a bit harsh,’ he said ruefully. ‘On Queenie, that is. She seems a nice kid. They might put her in a home.’
    ‘I know. I’ll discuss it with Vera tomorrow. I need to speak to her, anyway, to ask if she’ll look after Hester while we get married.’
    ‘Oh, well.’ He stretched his arms. ‘Shall we turn in early tonight?’
    ‘We’ll do no such thing, Roderick Oliver. I’m about to have a bath and wash my hair and there isn’t time to light the fire and wait for the water to get hot, so I’ll