A Liverpool Legacy by Anne Baker Page A

two bedrooms and turned one into a little sitting room for himself.
    ‘And how long will they be staying, sir?’
    ‘Not too long, I hope.’
    The following Thursday, James was having his lunch when he heard the doorbell ring. He listened when Dando went to answer it, and as soon as he heard Marcus’s voice he put down his knife and fork and went out to greet him. A car with gleaming paintwork and sparkling chrome, brand new, a rare sight these days, was pulled up at his front steps and his son was unloading suitcase after suitcase on to the gravel.
    ‘Marcus, my dear. Hello.’ He hadn’t seen him for some time and he seemed almost a stranger, though like him he wore thick bottle-glass spectacles in heavy dark frames. He was a big burly man, both tall and broad. He was also beginning to develop something of a paunch, and as for Elvira, he hardly recognised her.
    He’d seen little of her since their wedding day when he’d thought her quite a handsome girl and a catch for Marcus, but she’d put on more weight than any woman should and now she looked matronly. Her cheeks were flushed and there was an aura of pent-up anger about her. She reached up to kiss him. It was an impatient peck on his cheek.
    ‘How are your parents? Well, I hope,’ James said. ‘Do come in. Dando will show you up to your room.’
    ‘This way, madam.’ Dando was heading for the stairs.
    ‘Would you kindly help with our cases?’ Her tone was frosty.
    ‘Sorry.’ He turned back immediately to scoop up two suitcases.
    ‘You’ve brought a lot of luggage,’ James said.
    Marcus gave him a quick hug. ‘I’ve had to arrange for two more trunks to come by train, Pa.’
    It looked as though they were planning to stay for months. ‘You can use the bedroom next to yours as a storeroom.’
    Mrs Trotter came from the kitchen to help with the baggage, wiping her hands on her apron. He’d asked her to work a few extra hours today.
    Marcus looked at her vacantly. ‘Hello, it’s Mrs Trotter, isn’t it?’ He too seemed to be struggling to hide his anger. ‘And Dando, how are you? Nothing has changed here.’
    ‘No, little changes.’ James went back to finish his meal wondering if they’d had an argument in the car. His omelette had gone cold and was tasteless.
    Five minutes later, Marcus appeared at the dining-room door and asked apologetically, ‘Do you have any lunch for us, Pa?’
    ‘You didn’t tell me what time you’d arrive. I’ll have to ask Mrs Trotter.’ He rang the bell for her.
    ‘I have some soup I can heat up in a few minutes for you, sir, and I can make you a sandwich.’
    ‘I’ll have some soup too,’ James said, pushing his empty plate away.
    She picked it up. ‘Sorry, sir, there’s only enough soup for two. Shall I ask Dando to bring your pudding?’
    Elvira sailed in looking like the lady of the manor. She was a big, tall woman who held herself well, with her large bosom thrust out before her. In her youth she’d had a pretty face and an hourglass figure but neither had lasted. Now she was getting older she was developing deep lines of discontent running from her nose to her mouth, but both she and Marcus looked very prosperous. ‘Thank you for taking us in,’ she said. ‘I hope we won’t have to trouble you for long.’
    James hoped so too but he said, ‘You’re welcome to stay as long as you need, my dear.’
    Dando appeared with the inevitable fruit salad which James’s doctor had advised to help his constipation. He looked at it with disfavour, today it was mostly stewed apple. Dando was setting two more places at the table.
    ‘We’ll go round the local estate agents this afternoon,’ Elvira said.
    ‘There’s Markham’s in the village, isn’t there?’ Marcus asked. ‘And Stanley Jones’s in Woolton. We’ll start there.’
    ‘I think they may have closed,’ James said slowly. He knew they had; many estates agents had closed their premises during the war as their trade shrank. The news caused