Shell’s mother said with either pride or resentment.
“I’m very sorry for your loss. I worked with Shell for a little while.”
“You don’t sound like anyone she’d know. Worked on what, like?”
“The
Mersey Mouth
. The new magazine. She was writing a column for us.”
“She told me. She used to say you named the magazine after her.”
“Did she?” Patricia tried to sound amused but not too much. “I’ll put that in. We’re publishing a tribute to her.”
“What else are you going to be putting?”
“I’m just starting my research. I only heard about the tragedy a few minutes ago. Please don’t talk if you’d rather not, but is there anything you think I should include?”
“I can talk. I’m not surprised she went the way she did. It’d have been the drink one way or another if she didn’t get herself done in by some man to shut her up. I reckon you won’t be writing that, though.”
“Perhaps not,” Patricia admitted.
“Don’t you lot like the truth? Shouldn’t have had her working for you, then. You won’t want to hear why she was like she was neither.”
“I’m certain I would, Mrs Garrett, if you don’t mind telling me.”
“Being made to have a man when she didn’t think she could say no.”
“I wish I’d known that. We could have talked.”
“You’ve had some as well, have you?”
“Not as bad, but I’d certainly have been sympathetic.”
“Not as bad is right, I reckon. She was twelve and he was her dad.”
“Gosh, I’m sorry,” Patricia said and realised she already had been twice. “That’s dreadful. What became of him? Did Shell—”
“She only told me after he was dead. Got in a fight when he was drunk and six of them stamped on his head.”
“Well, I suppose that’s . . .” Patricia had no idea what she wasentitled to say, and felt she had presumed too much. “Do many people know about him and Shell?”
“She used to say stuff about it in her act sometimes when she was feeling down. She never said it was her.”
“Are there any recordings of her act, do you know?”
“I’ve got none. Not heard of any either.” Mrs Garrett stayed discontented as she said “You’d rather have them than what I told you. Thought as much.”
“Ideally I’d like to use both and anything else you think I should know.”
“That was her secret, the only one she had. If it’s not enough for you, no use asking me.”
“I assure you I wasn’t implying—”
“Never mind the fancy language. You’re just doing your job and I’m being a sour old bitch. Let me listen to the news now. See if any of her friends have something good to say about my Shell.”
“I’m sure I will have,” Patricia felt bound to undertake, but before she finished, nobody else was listening. She left the computer screen saving itself to the sound of waves and ran down to the kitchen, where Valerie was chopping garlic not quite in time with a Mozart march. “Shall we find out if Merseyside is saying anything about her?” Patricia suggested.
At first it seemed there might be no room for Shell among the robberies and police raids, but then the newsreader announced that “tributes have been pouring in to Shell Garridge, the controversial stand-up comic who died earlier today.” “She was one of a kind. She did comedy like nobody else,” said Sharika Kapoor, and Tulip Bandela described her as the most fearless comedian she’d ever worked with—“she wasn’t afraid not to be funny.” As for Ken Dodd, he said “She’d have gone far. She’d have got Liverpool even more of a reputation.”
“I was just speaking to her mother,” Patricia said. “She was raped by her father when she was twelve.”
Valerie turned the radio down as the newsreader forecast even hotter weather. “If we’ve got anyone who can give that some insight it’s you.”
“I know you believe in me, but honestly you don’t need—”
“Believe in yourself, Trish. That’s a lot more
“I’m very sorry for your loss. I worked with Shell for a little while.”
“You don’t sound like anyone she’d know. Worked on what, like?”
“The
Mersey Mouth
. The new magazine. She was writing a column for us.”
“She told me. She used to say you named the magazine after her.”
“Did she?” Patricia tried to sound amused but not too much. “I’ll put that in. We’re publishing a tribute to her.”
“What else are you going to be putting?”
“I’m just starting my research. I only heard about the tragedy a few minutes ago. Please don’t talk if you’d rather not, but is there anything you think I should include?”
“I can talk. I’m not surprised she went the way she did. It’d have been the drink one way or another if she didn’t get herself done in by some man to shut her up. I reckon you won’t be writing that, though.”
“Perhaps not,” Patricia admitted.
“Don’t you lot like the truth? Shouldn’t have had her working for you, then. You won’t want to hear why she was like she was neither.”
“I’m certain I would, Mrs Garrett, if you don’t mind telling me.”
“Being made to have a man when she didn’t think she could say no.”
“I wish I’d known that. We could have talked.”
“You’ve had some as well, have you?”
“Not as bad, but I’d certainly have been sympathetic.”
“Not as bad is right, I reckon. She was twelve and he was her dad.”
“Gosh, I’m sorry,” Patricia said and realised she already had been twice. “That’s dreadful. What became of him? Did Shell—”
“She only told me after he was dead. Got in a fight when he was drunk and six of them stamped on his head.”
“Well, I suppose that’s . . .” Patricia had no idea what she wasentitled to say, and felt she had presumed too much. “Do many people know about him and Shell?”
“She used to say stuff about it in her act sometimes when she was feeling down. She never said it was her.”
“Are there any recordings of her act, do you know?”
“I’ve got none. Not heard of any either.” Mrs Garrett stayed discontented as she said “You’d rather have them than what I told you. Thought as much.”
“Ideally I’d like to use both and anything else you think I should know.”
“That was her secret, the only one she had. If it’s not enough for you, no use asking me.”
“I assure you I wasn’t implying—”
“Never mind the fancy language. You’re just doing your job and I’m being a sour old bitch. Let me listen to the news now. See if any of her friends have something good to say about my Shell.”
“I’m sure I will have,” Patricia felt bound to undertake, but before she finished, nobody else was listening. She left the computer screen saving itself to the sound of waves and ran down to the kitchen, where Valerie was chopping garlic not quite in time with a Mozart march. “Shall we find out if Merseyside is saying anything about her?” Patricia suggested.
At first it seemed there might be no room for Shell among the robberies and police raids, but then the newsreader announced that “tributes have been pouring in to Shell Garridge, the controversial stand-up comic who died earlier today.” “She was one of a kind. She did comedy like nobody else,” said Sharika Kapoor, and Tulip Bandela described her as the most fearless comedian she’d ever worked with—“she wasn’t afraid not to be funny.” As for Ken Dodd, he said “She’d have gone far. She’d have got Liverpool even more of a reputation.”
“I was just speaking to her mother,” Patricia said. “She was raped by her father when she was twelve.”
Valerie turned the radio down as the newsreader forecast even hotter weather. “If we’ve got anyone who can give that some insight it’s you.”
“I know you believe in me, but honestly you don’t need—”
“Believe in yourself, Trish. That’s a lot more
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