All the Lonely People Read Online Free PDF Page B

Ridiculously, the tone of the invitation, too deliberately casual, irked him: it resembled a treat for a matrimonial invalid.
    His partner’s face was a blank. “Suit yourself. I’m in tomorrow.”
    Since the break-up of his marriage, Harry had developed a habit of stopping off at the Dock Brief on his way home. In the absence of Liz there was no need to break the routine. The pub was tiny and invariably packed to overflowing. Above the counter was a sign which said in GOD WE TRUST - ALL OTHERS PAY CASH and its walls were covered with photographs of Liverpool in days gone by: the old Lyceum, Exchange Station and the overhead railway known universally as the dockers’ umbrella. The real name of the place was the Anchors Aweigh, but its popular title was ingrained into city folklore and seemed appropriate to its mix of customers: professionals and businessmen at lunchtime and in the early evening, ship-workers and assorted locals as the night wore on. As he often did these days, Harry outlasted the other men in suits, propping up the counter whilst in the background deals were struck and pint pots occasionally shattered.
    As Harry drank, questions about Liz’s whereabouts swam around in his mind. Where had she been all day and would she be waiting for him at the flat when he got back in? The alcohol didn’t help him to find any answers and in the end he banged the glass down and pushed through the mêlée round the bar out into the drizzling night.
    The walk to Empire Dock took ten minutes. In the lobby, he ran into Brenda Rixton, the woman who lived next door. She had been chatting with the porter, but joined Harry as the lift arrived. Although he wasn’t in the mood for casual conversation, there was no escaping it.
    â€œMiserable evening, isn’t it? And turning so cold, too!”
    â€œSure is, Brenda.”
    â€œThat’s better! At last you’ve dropped that Mrs. Rixton nonsense. Neighbours ought to be on first name terms, don’t you agree?”
    Within the enclosed space, her perfume was overpowering. Harry hated lift travel and the lack of a sensible place to focus his eyes. Unwillingly, he looked straight at his companion. She was tall, almost his height, with fine blonde hair and a willowy figure encased within a pink sweater and matching slacks. Although she was in her forties, Harry reckoned, she had the inquisitive smile of a young girl who is anxious to know everything. Only the fine lines etched into the skin around her blue eyes hinted at age and a loss of innocence.
    With gentle irony, she said, “I gather you’ve taken a lodger.”
    Liz must have been amusing herself again. He forced a non-commital smile.
    â€œI met her this evening when I got back from work,” said Brenda, adding, “I admire your taste. She’s extremely attractive.”
    They had arrived at the fourth floor. Stepping out, Harry found himself saying, “That’s no lodger, Brenda, that’s my wife.”
    â€œYour wife? But I thought . . .”
    â€œYes, well, she has a strange sense of humour. We’re separated, but she may be around for a couple of days till she sorts herself out.”
    â€œI see,” said his neighbour, although her baffled expression made it clear that she did not.
    They stopped at her front door. “Mustn’t loiter,” said Harry with fake breeziness. “Plenty of paperwork to tackle, I’m afraid.”
    She wagged her index finger. “All work and no play. It isn’t good for you.”
    He was already unlocking his own flat. “Goodnight, Brenda.”
    Tonight no Liz awaited him. Her return must have been brief. He could detect no signs that she had eaten here, but in the bedroom he almost fell over a couple of heavily strapped suitcases left behind the door into the hall. There was a carrier bag full of cosmetics and odds and ends of clothing bought from George Henry Lee’s. So she planned