The Four Streets Saga

by Nadine Dorries

  There it was again, now Alison was certain: she definitely heard Sister Evangelista say, ‘Useless man,’ when she had finished speaking.

  Alison had not wanted to pass comment, but she was quite sure that at one time, she had heard Sister Evangelista heap exactly the same praise she had for Father Anthony on the dead priest, Father James. She would now no longer discuss him, no matter how much Alison tried to persuade her to do so.

  Without knowing it, Father Anthony had shamed the bishop over his obscure and evasive behaviour during the previous investigation.

  Sister Evangelista looked lighter and happier than she had in months. ‘I noticed Harriet leaving the Priory earlier and I wouldn’t be surprised to find she is on her way over here. Everyone else appears to be. I’ve never known the convent so busy, Daisy. You are quite the attraction.’

  ‘Well, I’m here because I cannot go anywhere else and I don’t want to leave Daisy,’ said Alison. ‘Howard has been called back to work to assist the new commander from today onwards. At least we had the weekend, eh? Anyway, thank goodness it is the summer holidays and the school is closed. I don’t want to miss having a few days with Daisy. I think it would be nice for her to get to know Harriet and Father Anthony.

  ‘Ah, speak of an angel and hear the rustle of her wings,’ Alison trilled as Harriet swept in through the door.

  ‘Morning, everyone.’ Harriet’s voice rang out from the hallway. ‘Are you up already? Have you recovered from the wedding and all that dancing on Saturday night?’

  ‘You will often hear Harriet coming long before you see her,’ Alison said to Daisy with an indulgent smile.

  ‘Aye, she seems to forget she’s in a convent and silence is a virtue,’ Sister Evangelista said drily.

  Daisy smiled. To all who had asked her, she had explained about her having been in a convent in Ireland. From the moment she had arrived back in the four streets she had been besieged with questions. Once the wedding festivities had begun, Daisy knew she was safe and so she had the time of her life.

  It was hard for Daisy to find words to express the difference between Sister Theresa’s convent in Galway and the one in Liverpool. She could not understand why it was that the nuns at St Mary’s were kindness itself compared with those at St Vincent’s. It was a mystery to everyone other than Daisy as to why Simon had taken her to the convent.

  Maggie had told Daisy to be very careful what she told and to whom she told it.

  ‘Keep your powder dry. Tell no one anything they don’t need to know, not even the sisters at St Mary’s. The only people you should tell almost everything to are the police. But you don’t mention another word about that little girl’s da, Tommy. It sounds as if that family have been through enough.’

  Daisy had listened very carefully to Maggie. She felt mean not telling everything to Miss Devlin, who she must try and remember to now call Mrs Davies, but she knew Maggie was right and had worked everything out meticulously.

  ‘I loved the dancing,’ said Daisy. ‘’Twas fantastic to see all the girls dancing like that, it was just grand. I know I shouldn’t laugh but the funniest thing was watching Big Paddy trying to throw Peggy over his shoulder. She wouldn’t give the man a rest.’

  They all laughed at the memory of Little Paddy hiding his head in his hands in shame.

  ‘Mam, Da, will ye stop!’ Little Paddy had shouted, bouncing up and down with the ruff of his shirt collar muffling his words.

  When Peggy and Paddy had ignored him, he had tried to cut in between them both, but to no avail. His mother had then taken his hands and, twirling him round on the dance floor, danced with him instead. An experience which had left Little Paddy traumatized with embarrassment at the memory. That morning, it had been the first thing he thought of when he woke and it made him blush with shame when the boys on the green had shouted, ‘Give us a dance then, Paddy,’ when he ran to the shop for his da’s ciggies. Boys didn’t dance but if ever one was so misguided as to try, the last person he would dance with in public, and in front of all his school friends, would be his mother.

  ‘Would ye stop,’ said Alison, catching her breath. ‘I enjoyed my own reception more than I should have. I thought I would be on pins and nervous, but, Daisy, you made it the best.’

  ‘I would like to visit a few of the women if that is all right with you, Sister Evangelista,’ said Daisy. ‘I told Annie I would call over this morning. Would ye mind if I leave now?’

  ‘Not at all, Daisy, you go ahead. I am here all day and your room is your own until the police say your brother can collect you. Harriet and I are both off this morning to a meeting about the new nursery, but we will be at the Priory if you need us.’

  Maura was surprised when she heard a knock on her front door. It was only just audible, more of a gentle, nervous tap than a knock. As it was the school holidays, everyone was still in bed, catching up on their sleep following a weekend of excitement that included a late night after the wedding. None of the children had made it to bed until the early hours on Sunday, and they were still recovering by Monday.

  When Maura saw Daisy on the doorstep, she smiled.

  ‘Well, what a commotion you caused on Saturday, miss,’ she said as she opened the door wider for Daisy to step into the hallway.

  ‘You were laughing and talking away on Saturday night with everyone, so you were. I never had the chance to catch a word meself.’

  Maura hadn’t set eyes on her for six months and she noticed a difference in the girl. She was more grown up, with a worldly-wise look about her. As both women moved into the kitchen, Maura gestured for Daisy to take a seat.

  ‘Sit down, love,’ she said, ‘and I’ll make us a cuppa.’

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Doherty,’ said Daisy, sitting on a week’s worth of Tommy’s Liverpool Echos, which lived under the seat cushion and crinkled in objection as she gently lowered herself onto the sofa.

  ‘Miss Devlin told me about Kitty. I’m sorry for your troubles. I really am, I’m sorry for your troubles.’

  Maura didn’t reply. She couldn’t. There were no words to be said.

  ‘You haven’t been in my kitchen before, have you, Daisy? You were always too busy in the Priory,’ said Maura brightly, wanting to change the subject. ‘Although I know Molly used to visit you sometimes, and Annie O’Prey. Did ye talk to Annie last night?’

  ‘I did, Mrs Doherty, I am off to see her in a minute, but first I wanted to talk to ye. I have to tell ye summat.’

  Maura stood the pot of tea and the cups on the range shelf and poured milk from the bottle into the two cups.

  ‘Will you drop the Mrs Doherty, Daisy. My name is Maura and you aren’t working at the Priory now.’

  ‘I saw him, Maura. I saw him every time he left the Priory and walked down the entry towards your door. I watched him from the window and I was glad he was over here and not bothering me. I’m sorry, Maura. I’m sorry I never told you.’

  Maura gasped and lowered herself onto the sofa next to Daisy.

  Maura couldn’t speak. She could make no response other than to wring her hands in her lap and stare at Daisy as though she had grown an extra nose whilst sitting in her kitchen.

  ‘God in heaven, he was doing it to you too? It never crossed my mind.’

  Hot tears sprang to Maura’s eyes. God knew, she had cried enough to fill the Mersey but they were always there, just beneath the surface, looking for a reason to flow. She reached out and held Daisy’s hands in her own.

  ‘It is me who is sorry, Daisy. Me. That man was evil itself and I don’t feel sorry when I say that, as God is my judge, I am glad he is dead.’

  Now it was Daisy’s turn to well up. There, she had finally said the words she always knew she should share with Maura, so that Maura would know, she hadn’t failed Kitty and that there was nothing she could have done. Father James’s behaviour had been beyond the comprehension of any decent human being.

  The two women looked at each other for a long moment. One was considered si
mple and vulnerable. The other had thought she was an expert at keeping her children safe and out of harm’s way. Maura reached out and took Daisy’s hand in her own. They were now keepers of the same secret.

  Daisy said, ‘You are right, Maura. He was an evil man, a son of the devil, Maggie says, and me and Kitty and the others, there was nothing we could do.’

  Daisy didn’t tell Maura that he had done the same thing to lots of girls and that she and Sister Evangelista knew this because they had found the photographs in his desk drawer. Daisy didn’t say this to Maura, but she was going to say it herself to Sister Evangelista. Maggie had told her she had to. She had written down all the things Maggie had told her she had to do, one by one, and telling Sister Evangelista that she had to tell the police what she had found in the father’s desk drawer was number four.

  Talking to Maura was number two. Stepping into the police station and giving them the letter from Maggie and Frank, that was number one.

  When she had written the list with Maggie, Daisy had thought that she would never be able to do any of it. But now that she was here, seeing Maura had been so easy, and to think she had thought it would be the worst.

  ‘Get the hardest things out of the way first,’ Maggie had said. ‘The rest will be straightforward then and nothing to be frightened of.’

  Maggie had been right.

  Now, Maura and Daisy were both crying.

  ‘But, Maura, there’s more, there’s more I have to say.’

  Maura sat back slightly. She realized this was big for Daisy. She could see a battle raging somewhere inside her and that what she had said had not been easy for her.

  Maura picked up Daisy’s cup and handed it to her.

  ‘Here, drink some tea,’ she said. ‘It will help calm your nerves. Shall I get us a couple of Anadin?’

  Daisy shook her head and sipped the tea. Maura was right. She felt calmer now. Tea cured all ills.

  Maura stood and dropped the catch on the back door. It was a thing she had never done before in all the time she had lived on the four streets, but intuition told her that the last thing she needed today was Peggy barging in.

  Maura sat down again, closer to Daisy who, in preparation for her most crucial words, placed her cup and saucer on the floor near her feet. She leant back and took a deep breath. For a second, she heard Maggie’s voice.

  ‘Just say it out loud, Daisy, you only have to say it once and then it’s done.’

  Daisy looked Maura straight in the eye. ‘Maura, I also saw what happened on the night the father was murdered. I saw how it happened, from the upstairs window in the Priory.’

  Maura felt the room spin. Her foundations were moving, as if a chasm were about to open. She had been clinging onto the edge of a precipice for so long, waiting for something unknown to tip her off, and now here it was. It was Daisy.

  She grasped the wooden arm of the chair tightly. She was teetering on the edge of her own sanity and she needed to hold on. She had to brace herself for whatever it was Daisy was about to say. Maura couldn’t look. She couldn’t see Daisy when she spoke the words that would condemn her husband to death.

  ‘Oh God,’ she gasped, putting her free hand to her mouth.

  ‘No, don’t worry,’ said Daisy, placing her hand on Maura’s. ‘That is why I am here. I am sorry, I told the police once, but they didn’t believe me. They thought I was simple and do you know, I was. I was so upset at what was happening to me. The awful secret I had to keep, it made me simple. That’s what Maggie says anyway and I think she is right, because I can see everything so much clearer now. Thank God they didn’t believe me. I only did it, I told them, because Molly said I had to. Molly is dead now and I am not simple, but I am the only one who saw it happen. I am the only one who knows and it is the thing Maggie said I had to keep a secret and never speak of it again, except to you, to put your mind at ease. That’s what Maggie said.’

  ‘Maggie?’ said Maura. ‘Who the hell is Maggie?’ Maura almost screamed the question.

  ‘She is the lady who looked after me and helped me back to Liverpool. She taught me to speak properly. And she helped me to escape and get to the police and told me everything I had to do and say.’

  ‘What did you see, Daisy?’ Maura asked, almost in a whisper. ‘Did you see Tommy and Jerry and what they did?’

  ‘Me, I didn’t see nothing, Maura. Maggie said that, once I told you, I was never to speak about it again and that I had to forget what I had seen. She said you had suffered enough, that we all have, and that the priest got everything he deserved, and that she would have done the very same.’ Maura laughed and cried at the same time as she hugged Daisy. The two of them wiped their eyes. Maura poured more tea and, sitting next to Daisy and placing her hand back in hers, she asked, ‘Did you know what happened to Kitty, Daisy?’

  For the following hour, Maura sat with her arm round Daisy’s shoulders as she told her Kitty’s story. Simple Daisy, the first woman apart from Kathleen that Maura had talked to about Kitty. It felt good to talk to Daisy. She had shared Kitty’s nightmare. She would understand. Maura cried as she spoke and, at times, her words battled with her sobs to be heard. But nothing could stop the outpouring of emotion Maura felt as she sat, side by side in front of the range fire, with Daisy.

  Daisy knew at first hand the evil which Kitty had known. They were now sisters. Blood sisters.

  Maura had been so engrossed in talking to Daisy about Kitty that she hadn’t heard Harry and Little Paddy on the stairs, nor noticed that they had halted their descent. Having heard voices in the kitchen, they were sitting on the bottom step behind the door.

  She usually did hear the children. Since Kitty had died, Little Paddy often stopped over for the night, as he and Scamp were great at dispelling the gloom and lightening the atmosphere. Like all Maura’s children, Little Paddy was convinced she could see through wooden doors.

  Neither of the boys moved a muscle while they listened to every word. Harry’s own tears fell softly as he heard his mother speak about his beloved Kitty, something Tommy had told him he was not allowed to do in front of Maura, for fear of upsetting her. He cried for Daisy too. But boys weren’t allowed to cry.

  Just as Little Paddy put his arm round Harry’s shoulders, they heard Malachi dive out of bed, yelling, ‘Mam, I’m starving.’

  Harry quickly dried his eyes. Little Paddy held out his little finger. Harry held out his and hooked it through Paddy’s and their hands shook.

  ‘Secret forever,’ whispered Little Paddy. Harry nodded in response. Both boys jumped up and, stamping on the stairs to announce their arrival, they noisily entered the kitchen just as Scamp began to bark at the back door.

  12

  WHEN BEN MANNING arrived at the Priory, it was a hive of activity. He took the letter from the inside pocket of his jacket and reread it carefully, checking the name of the person he was supposed to be meeting.

  ‘Here is a very charming letter,’ his secretary had said. ‘Well written too. Miss Harriet Lamb, she’s obviously had a proper education. Look at that punctuation. I bet she’s about ninety. This is a woman who knows how to get her way. Little old ladies can be very disarming, Mr Manning. Be on your guard when you meet her on Monday morning.’

  Ben had smiled. It would take more than a little old lady with beautiful diction to make him agree to the library being run by the local church.

  As Ben stood at the Priory gates and glanced over at the churchyard where, he knew, the murdered priest had been found, he once again checked the address at the top of the letter. He was at the correct Priory, and the name on the bottom was Miss Harriet Lamb. He scanned the people arriving who were also attending the meeting, searching for a woman with a kindly face. He had already imagined Miss Harriet Lamb.

  He half expected her to look like every Irish matron in Liverpool: rotund, wearing a headscarf and a black skirt.

  When the door was opened by a young woman in a floral dress, with long dark curls, smiling the broade
st smile, he fully expected her to direct him to a room in the Priory where Miss Lamb and her committee would be waiting for him.

  ‘Hello,’ the young woman said in a beautiful voice. ‘I’m Harriet Lamb. Are you Mr Manning from the City Corporation?’

  For a moment, Ben couldn’t speak.

  ‘I am sorry to be so presumptuous,’ she almost sang. ‘It is just that, obviously, it is a very tight community around here and, if you don’t mind me saying so, a man who knocks on the Priory door in such a smart overcoat sticks out like a sore thumb. And besides, we are expecting you.’ She laughed.

  He had no idea what she had just said. He was only aware of her lips moving and had no idea what to say in response.

  The woman stopped laughing, but her smile remained. Ben noticed that she never once looked down at his leg, unlike almost every other person he had met, since the day he had been discharged from the army.

  ‘Hello in there,’ she said, laughing and pretending to look into and behind his eyes.

  Ben spluttered and blurted out, ‘I am so dreadfully sorry, but I was expecting someone older.’

  The young woman laughed again.

  ‘But your accent?’ Ben knew he was being incredibly clumsy but seemed unable to stop himself.

  ‘Ah, yes, well, it may surprise you to know, Mr Manning, I was educated in Dublin and my father was a doctor. We don’t all speak the same, you know. And, if you don’t mind me saying so, I have met many people in Liverpool who don’t speak with a strong accent.’

  Ben blushed, profoundly embarrassed.