The Orphan Daughter

by Sheila Riley

  ‘Mrs Sharp.’ Mim, holding out her hand, introduced herself as she approached the new occupant of the spare room. ‘And you are?’ Connie felt her insides shrivel and wondered if she had made the biggest mistake of her life.

  ‘Angus McCrea.’ He smiled, shaking her mother’s hand. ‘But please, call me Angus.’

  ‘I’m sure you would like a cup of tea, Mr McCrea,’ Mim said, ignoring his request. Connie knew her mother was deciding whether she liked him. When she was sure she did, then she would she call him by his first name.

  15

  ‘Why don’t you show Mr McCrea the room?’ Mim said. ‘My leg’s banjaxed this morning.’

  ‘If you’re sure.’ Connie was sure her mother would have wanted to show the rooms. ‘This way,’ Connie said in an efficient business-like manner. ‘You can have either one, whichever suits.’ The first room was the back bedroom adjoining her own, one step up to the right, on the landing.

  ‘Very nice,’ Angus said, taking in the polished wardrobe, dressing table and single bed draped in a dark blue candlewick bedspread. The room was adequate for his needs and well-cared-for. ‘And the other room?’ He asked, requesting to see the room at the front, his mind already wandering. Why was a good-looking woman with a well-turned ankle and shapely figure wasting her time in a backstreet pub?

  After showing him the other room, Connie saw him hesitate. His reticence was not the reaction she expected, given both rooms were comfortably furnished. ‘You won’t find better around here,’ she said, thinking he was having second thoughts.

  ‘The rooms are fine, excellent in fact.’ His expression changed to one of cheerful approval.

  ‘We have spare furniture if you want to make this front into a sitting room?’ Connie ventured.

  ‘That won’t be necessary.’ Angus preferred being with the families, if they didn’t object. He learned a whole lot more that way.

  ‘There won’t be any extra charge if that’s what you’re worried about?’ Connie said. ‘Although we have the wireless in the living room…’

  ‘I’m not worried about money.’ His smile was tight. Something about this woman unsettled him.

  ‘Mr McCrae can sit with us, I suppose,’ Mim said, bustling into the room. ‘If you want to listen to the wireless, we don’t mind, do we Connie?’

  ‘Mr McCrea might have other things to do, Mam, he won’t want to sit with us every night.’

  ‘That’s kind of you. If it’s nae bother, just let me know if I’m getting under your feet and I’ll make himself scarce.’

  ‘I’m sure it won’t come to that, Mr McCrae,’ Mim said. And then the penny dropped. Connie knew what she was up to. Her mother was trying to find out if he would make good husband material and if so, she would do her best to put a spanner in the works – she had seen that look before. Well, not this time, Mim, Connie thought. He’d only been here five minutes and she could pick her own men-friends, thanks very much!

  ‘You have a lovely house,’ Angus said, charming Mim with a warm smile. ‘This front room will certainly suit my needs.’ Edging the burnt-orange curtain and starched white net to one side, he could see right up the street and down to the docks. ‘This is perfect.’

  ‘I moved to the back on account of the Blitz,’ Mim explained, patting her combed-out hair and enjoying the compliment. ‘I never moved back in here again, did I Connie?’

  ‘No Mim,’ Connie said, amused at how easily Mr McCrea had managed to flatter her mother. ‘There’s no point in letting good rooms go to waste.’

  ‘I agree,’ Angus said, taking in the polished walnut wardrobe, good quality dressing table and expensive looking carpet that covered the whole floor. This was not what he had been expecting in a house round here. ‘I’m impressed.’

  ‘We have high standards, Mr McCrea,’ Connie said when she noticed him eyeing the deep-pile carpet, which had been an overestimation for a luxury liner under construction at Birkenhead. She knew if he was of the observant kind, he would see the same carpet graced a few houses around here, not just the tavern.

  ‘None higher, I imagine…’ Angus answered with a quiet smile. Her tone was as he expected, was sure that underneath the reserved exterior there beat a passionate heart.

  ‘Breakfast will be at seven sharp, except at weekends,’ Connie covered her neck with her palm as an unusual heat rose to her throat under his scrutinising gaze. ‘There is an alarm clock supplied, and you will get yourself out of bed.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure I will.’ Angus smiled. ‘I have been doing that same thing for a long while.’ Connie was too nervous to laugh. She wasn’t sure if he was being serious.

  ‘If you or I – we – don’t suit, we’ll end the agreement, forthwith.’ Oh dear, she was making a right pig’s ear of this.

  ‘Forthwith…’ he said, his eyes twinkling. ‘Shall I pay you now?’

  ‘Mim deals with the money side of things,’ Connie said, refusing to take money from a man in her mother’s front bedroom. It didn’t seem decent.

  ‘Shall we have tea?’ For some unknown reason, Connie Sharp, who took no lip from any man, and could clear a bar full of sailors in ten minutes flat, couldn’t get out of that bedroom quick enough. ‘I have a lot to do this morning.’

  ‘So, you’re starting work nearby, Mr McCrea?’ Mim found small talk came easy because of the nature of her trade, but there was something about Angus McCrae that left Connie tongue-tied – and she wasn’t sure she liked it. ‘You haven’t picked the best of weather.’

  ‘Nae matter,’ Angus replied as he glanced around. This was a damn sight better than most he had seen. The place was comfortable after his long trip from Scotland. Even if her mother was an odd-bod, sparkling like the crown jewels, Angus decided this place would suit him fine.

  ‘It’s a nice place you have, Mrs Sharp,’ he said, noticing the old dear staring at him like he was the last chicken in the butcher’s window.

  ‘We do our best, Mr McCrea,’ Mim added, unable to let go of the reigns completely. ‘If you would like to come into the drawing room, we can have tea.’

  Connie looked to Mim, who sounded like she had her mouth full of some dark fruit they hadn’t seen in a long time. When had they acquired a drawing room?

  ‘Do you take sugar?’ Mim asked, lifting the cut-glass sugar bowl.

  ‘Two please.’ Angus smiled when he saw her scoop just one spoonful into his cup.

  ‘Stir that, it will be sweet enough,’ Mim said. Two indeed! ‘I hope you found your room comfortable?’ she said, sipping her own sugarless tea. ‘We wouldn’t want you to feel we were lacking in amenities – the bathroom is just down the passageway, although, because of the fuel shortages, I must ask that you stick to the usual five inches of water when bathing. How long will you be requiring the room?’

  ‘I’m not sure how long I will be here. Is that a problem?’

  ‘Not at all,’ Connie blurted before her mother could pin down as many rules as she could think of in the shortest amount of time. ‘You come and go as you please.’ She handed him his keys. ‘This is the side-gate key, and this is the side-door key, which we use most of all. It will save you having to come through the bar every time you need to…’ Her voice trailed, and Angus nodded, putting the keys in his pocket.

  ‘What line are you in, Mr McCrae?’ Mim asked without preamble. As far as she was concerned, it was best to get as much information as possible. Only then could she decide about a person. ‘Insurance,’ Angus said, scraping his cup across his saucer, setting Mim’s teeth on edge, ‘I work all around the country. Only staying long enough to finish the job,’ he said, omitting to divulge the true nature of his work.

  ‘I could see that would put a lot of strain on a marriage, Mr McCrea?’ Mim said, and Connie glared at her mother who really was the limit. ‘Although, I believe you are a widower?’

  ‘Mim. That’s none of our business!’ Connie worried her straight-talking mother would put him off taking the room before he had spent the night
here. Turning to Angus, she said, ‘Mim asks the questions that politer people wouldn’t dream of.’ She gave her mother a warning look. Although she noticed Angus didn’t refer to Mim’s question.

  ‘Have you worked for the dock board long, Mr McCrae?’ Mim ignored her daughter’s direct gaze. ‘… I need to know if the rent will be on time.’

  ‘I’ll pay two weeks in advance if that suits?’ Angus said amiably. ‘I won’t be here until Sunday night and only then until Friday. I will be away every weekend. However, I will pay for the full seven days.’

  ‘That’s very generous of you, Angus,’ Mim said, brightening at the mention of money. Connie smiled. Her mother had obviously decided she liked him enough to call him by his first name.

  ‘There’s no need to pay for days when the room will be unoccupied,’ Connie cut in, watching her mother’s face gather in an irritated scowl.

  ‘Not at all,’ Angus said good-naturedly, ‘it will hold my room in reserve, will it not?’

  ‘Yes,’ Mim answered quickly. A businesswoman, she wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  16

  ‘I won’t be long!’ Evie called upstairs to Jack, who poked his nose out of the warm confines of an army blanket she had bought in the Army and Navy Stores.

  Pulling the rough grey blanket to his chin, Jack felt the cold air damp on his skin. When he breathed out, he saw a cloudy miasma billowing into the early morning air and quickly dipped his face back under the covers, reluctant to start another day just yet.

  ‘Lucy’s down here on her own, in the back-kitchen,’ Evie called, her words sounding like a warning and Jack shivered. It had been two weeks since their Evie had come back home and there was still no sign of their mother. With Connie’s expert care, his leg was healing nicely, and he could get up and down stairs now. As soon as it was wise to do so, he was going to find himself a job, and pay his way. He didn’t like the idea of their Evie spending all her savings on him.

  ‘I’ll be there and back as quick as I can,’ Evie called from the front door, and moments later he heard it slam.

  ‘I’m making you a nice cup of tea, Jack,’ Lucy called from the scullery and, stretching his good leg, Jack winced as the gnawing pain in his thigh turned to a shooting pain, detonating an explosion of panic inside him. Lord knew what Lucy would get up to, left to her own devices.

  ‘Don’t touch nothing, Lucy!’ he called, swinging his good leg off the bed and searching for his ice-cold shoes. ‘I’m coming down there, now.’ Balancing on the edge, he shrugged his feet inside the leg of devastated trousers. Fuel was in short supply, but lit gas was still strong enough to do some damage in the wrong hands. If Lucy burned herself on the gas stove, Evie would make sure he never walked again…

  He hopped downstairs on one leg then over to the kitchen door, each excruciating thud screamed through his injured leg. The pain got bad during the night, knocking the bajazus out of him. He had had to come downstairs on his behind to get a couple of aspirins Connie had left.

  ‘Here’s a nice cup of tea,’ Lucy said, mimicking her older sister who had been waiting on Jack hand and foot. Concentrating on the cup, Lucy slopped hot tea all over the floor before Jack managed to take it from her.

  ‘Evie will go loopy if she knows you’ve been near the gas cooker,’ he gently scolded his younger sister, yet was grateful for the hot, sugarless drink.

  ‘I couldn’t let you make it yourself,’ Lucy said with an air of importance, ‘and I am capable of making a cup of tea, you know. I am ten years old – hardly a child.’

  ‘Thanks, you did a great job.’ Jack grinned. ‘Even if you did lose half of it on the floor.’ He took a huge gulp and the heat revived him.

  ‘Evie said she’ll get a good blaze going when she gets back, she heard there was a job going at the coal yard,’ Lucy assured him, her nose red-tipped with the cold. Jack felt a wave of regret and shame wash over him because he couldn’t be the one to go out looking for a job to help them get through one of the worst winters in living memory. He vowed that as soon as possible – if not sooner – he was going to get back on his feet and do his share.

  ‘My good shepherd said I’m about ready to start fending for myself.’

  ‘Did he now?’ Jack said, knowing all about Lucy’s ‘good shepherd’. At first, he thought the rigid religious practices of their aunt’s Catholic beliefs affected Lucy, because Ma wasn’t a great fan of religion. But he soon got used to the little nuggets of information purportedly from her good shepherd.

  He had never seen this shepherd, obviously, because he was a figment of his young sister’s overactive imagination. An imaginary friend who, up until they moved back to Liverpool had been Lucy’s constant companion. But now she had become friends with that young snapper, Bobby Harris, whom she met in Saint Patrick’s junior school. Evie made sure she and Jack were enrolled as soon as she came back to Reckoner’s Row, so Lucy didn’t talk about her good shepherd as much.

  ‘I asked him why he didn’t stop you having your accident,’ Lucy said, huddling close to the diminishing fire as she finished getting ready for school.

  ‘And what did he say?’ Jack asked, lowering himself onto the couch, knowing she wouldn’t have a clue.

  ‘He said he did help you,’ Lucy answered. ‘He brought you home on the cart.’

  A shiver ran down Jack’s spine. He had told only Evie and Connie the details about the stranger bringing him home. As far as Lucy was concerned, they kept the details from her delicate ears.

  ‘He said you were bleeding like a gushing oil well when he found you by the docks – why were you so far down by the docks, Jack?’

  ‘To get the wood,’ he answered, trying to recall what he had said that night. Maybe she had overheard him talking to Evie. ‘We needed the wood. For the fire.’ Jack had suspected she would forget all about her imaginary friend when they left Ireland. But it looked like he was back. And this time he was a saviour too, issuing golden nuggets of advice.

  Jack never doubted his young sister believed the things she said she saw. Nor did he ridicule, as some would. She was going through a phase – an adjustment, Evie had said when he told her. So he accepted the fact. Lucy had an eccentric way of showing the things that went through her mind. However, their conversation was cut short by a knock at the front door.

  ‘Don’t forget to ask who it is before you open the door, Luce,’ Jack said, knowing his sister would be no match for their mother if she wanted to push her way back in. Evie had left precise instructions not to let Rene back into the house until she was here. No matter how much she ranted.

  ‘It’s Aunty Connie!’ Lucy called from the lobby, and Jack told her to open the front door. In minutes the kitchen was filled with laughter and chatter and bustling noise that always accompanied Aunty Connie’s visits. She never came empty-handed, and Lucy never failed to get excited.

  ‘I thought you might make use of these, Jack,’ Connie said, opening a brown paper parcel and taking out a pair of pin-striped trousers. ‘They look like they’d fit you,’ she said putting her head to one side to gauge his size. ‘I know they’re a bit Sunday best, but they’ll do you a turn.’

  ‘I’ll look a proper toff in these.’ Jack beamed, unperturbed that the trousers were big on the waist. ‘Just the ticket, Aunty Connie. Ta very much!’ He made a circle with his forefinger, wanting the two females to turn their back while he shuffled into the trousers. ‘Too right, these’ll do for me,’ he said in that good-natured way he had about him. Always ready to look on the bright side.

  ‘I’d give you a catwalk demonstration,’ he said, ‘but I’ll have to wait for my gammy leg to get better, first.’

  ‘Oh, you’ll have all the girls after you,’ Connie said with a wink of one of her caring blue eyes. She was glad the dock incident hadn’t changed Jack’s exuberant personality. He was the one who kept Evie’s spirits up, stopping her worrying too much.

  ‘Shall I pour you a cup of tea?’ Lucy asked, drama
tically throwing herself onto the sofa in surprise when both, in unison, cried ‘No!’

  ‘Let me do it,’ Connie said, bustling out to the kitchen, just as Evie came through the front door and called a greeting after Connie.

  ‘I’ll just get on with building up this fire,’ Evie said unbuttoning her coat, but keeping the woollen headscarf around her neck to keep in what little warmth there was to be had, before joining Connie in the kitchen. ‘I managed to buy some coal briquettes and a few bundles of wood, but only enough to get a fire going for today. I had to lie about going for a job.’ Because of the low pressure due to lack of fuel, the kettle took an age to boil.

  ‘Jack and Lucy are glad to have you back in their lives,’ Connie said, knowing the Kilgaren kids were settling back into Reckoner’s Row with Evie’s complete and willing support.

  ‘I’ve been to the police station to see if they’ve heard anything about Mam,’ she told Connie in a lowered tone so her voice wouldn’t carry to the other room.

  ‘Any joy?’ Connie asked and Evie shook her head.

  ‘I have to admit, I am getting worried,’ Her brow was furrowed, alarm bells ringing in her head. ‘Mam’s always been a roamer, but she’s never been gone this long.’

  Connie put the tea things on the tray, patted her arm and said, ‘Don’t upset yourself, she’ll be back soon enough.’ Not believing her own words, Connie took the tray through to the kitchen, where Jack and Lucy were hogging the fire.

  ‘Come and get a hot drink you two and let some of that heat out.’

  As she waited for the knocking pipes to deliver more water for the kettle, a small noise alerted Evie to the window overlooking the back yard. She leaned over the sink and pulled the net curtain across the steamed-up window. Wiping it to get a better view, she looked down the yard and noticed the back-gate slowly closing. Her mouth dropped open, but she didn’t say a word. Not because she thought there must be a simple explanation but because she recognised the tattooed hand that shut the back gate.