Meet Me at the Pier Head by Ruth Hamilton

sandwich?’
    ‘Er . . . no, thank you. Delia will be back shortly with her drums.’
    Theo raised an eyebrow. ‘Drums?’
    ‘She won’t practise here. I shall make sure of that.’
    ‘Pity. I play a few chords on the guitar, so she might like to try the drums out in my flat. This evening, perhaps? The house is detached, so we’ll disturb nobody.’
    ‘I’ll ask her.’
    ‘Do that. Come with her if you think you can tolerate the noise.’
    She hesitated, opened her mouth, closed it again.
    ‘Well, Miss Bellamy?’
    ‘I have a great deal to do,’ she said after the long pause. But might Delia speak out of turn to him? ‘I’ll come down tonight if she gets some drums. She’s very
particular. Oh, and skiffle is somewhat noisy.’
    Theo nodded. ‘Right. I’ll raid the wine cellar.’
    ‘You have a wine cellar?’
    ‘Of course, and it’s well stocked. It’s called Warburton’s. It’s on the main road, wedged between fish and chips on one side, haberdashery on the other.’
    If he pulls my leg any harder, it will drop off. You like a man with a sense of fun, Tia Bellamy. You like a man with good musculature, generous lips, square jaw, dark hair, warm chocolate
eyes . . . Stop this now, you damned foolish woman.
    Delia broke the strange and uncomfortable spell by rattling onto the driveway and up the side of the house with her group’s disreputable and noisy vehicle. She alighted and ran round to
the front garden. ‘Got some,’ she said triumphantly. ‘Scotland Road was brilliant once I broke through the language barrier. Hi, Theo.’
    He grinned at Delia. With her face illuminated by excitement, she was almost pretty. ‘Bring them into my place,’ he said. ‘You don’t want them stolen from the van.’
He turned to Tia.
God, why do you have to be so bloody perfect?
‘I’ll see you both at about seven this evening. Delia, I play the guitar, so we’ll have a
session.’
    ‘Great. Give me a hand, please.’
    Once more, Tia was in charge of Tyger while the drums were carried into the ground-floor flat.
We are the three Ts. Theo, Tia and Tyger. I should have taken the post in St Helens. I should
have found a different flat. No, I like this one. And he fascinates me, but I’ll get used to it because I must. Simon will be my shield – is that cruel?
    Theo reclaimed his kitten. ‘Thanks, Tia. Miss Ellis says if you want to come in for a couple of hours tomorrow, she’ll show you the ropes. Not that we make a habit of hanging our
kids, but punishment is sometimes necessary, and you need to learn how to tie the knots.’
    Tia found herself grinning. ‘So that’s where you get your body parts?’
    ‘Young meat is tender. And I also use hospital morgues, because sometimes I need bigger bits. They require simmering for several hours.’
    She nodded thoughtfully. ‘That chicken salad you gave us – was it really chicken?’
    ‘Oh, Miss Bellamy, I never answer such questions. You enjoyed the food, yes?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘I made the pie with apples from my own trees.’
    ‘It was good.’
    ‘Thank you. See you later, then.’ He took Tyger from her and walked away.
    Determinedly, Tia climbed the stairs, found nails and hammer and began arranging pictures on her walls. Life wasn’t all about pretty kitties and handsome landlords. She sorted through
books, dusted their covers and arranged them on shelves at each side of the fireplace in her sitting room before repositioning furniture to suit her own idea of comfort and order. The dining room
was easy – one table, four dining chairs, two carvers and a sideboard. She sorted out the kitchen and found that Theo had thought of everything from a fish kettle to cruets. He was rich, far
too wealthy for a headmaster of an infant and junior school. She found decent cutlery, moderately expensive dinner and tea sets, good table linen, substantial pots and pans.
    Delia dashed in. ‘He’s going to phone people from his office – trying to get messages