The Orphan Daughter

by Sheila Riley

  ‘Maybe she has funds of her own?’ Angus said stirring his bowl of porridge oats, which Mim insisted on giving him each morning. If anybody would know what was going on at the Kilgaren’s, it was Mim – his wonderful mine of valuable information.

  ‘I doubt she’s got a penny, otherwise she wouldn’t huddle inside a coat that was three sizes too big,’ Mim said. ‘I’m sure her mother’s got a decent coat she could wear?’

  Connie got up from the table. She had a busy day ahead and had no intentions of sitting here listening to her mother’s narrow-minded view of the Kilgaren’s. ‘You were glad of Rene, when she worked behind the bar.’

  ‘Aye,’ Mim said, ‘she brought in the customers, that’s for sure. That’s why she could afford a coat with a fur collar.’

  ‘If you need me, I’ll be sorting out the airing cupboard,’ Connie said, suspecting the coat had more to do with Darnel than it did to Rene’s tips.

  ‘Here, let me help you with those,’ Angus said when he saw Connie lifting heavy blankets out of the airing cupboard.

  ‘Thanks, Angus. I promised Evie I would pass these to her.’ She handed them to Angus. ‘We have no need for so many, and poor Evie’s desperate.’

  ‘You’ve a heart bigger than yourself,’ Angus said in a voice that could stroke kittens.

  ‘Give over,’ Connie laughed, her face growing warm, surprised at how much the compliment lifted her spirits. With each passing day she thought more about Angus, sure he felt the same way, too.

  Angus noted the pink tinge illuminate Connie’s beautiful face. He had given the matter some thought and decided he had to be honest with her. Hoping she would forgive his deception, he swallowed hard.

  ‘If I tell you something, ‘Angus said, ‘you won’t throw me out, will you?’

  Connie stiffened. This was the bit where he was going to tell her he had a wife and ten kids. ‘It depends what you have to tell me,’ she said in a voice that held no warmth.

  ‘You remember when I told you I was working in insurance?’ His tone was unusually hesitant as he stood on the landing with an armful of bed linen. Connie nodded, hardly trusting herself to speak. ‘And you remember when I asked you if you knew Leo Darnel?’

  ‘Are you testing me for dementia, Angus?’ Connie managed to say, and he gave a low, deep chuckle that fanned the flickering flame in her heart.

  ‘No, I’m not. I’m trying to tell you the reason why I had to lie to you.’

  Connie felt her heart sink. She had been instantly attracted to Angus from the night he walked into the bar, and she thought he felt the same way. Why else would she have trusted him with her biggest secret?

  ‘I am working for Marine Insurance, but not in the way you might expect.’

  ‘Spit it out, Angus, I haven’t got all day.’ His hesitation was making Connie unusually impatient. He was in insurance, then he wasn’t. The man was a bloody puzzle, she did know that much.

  ‘I’m an undercover detective, working for the Marine Insurance Company. They are the underwriters for many of the dockside warehouses. It is my job to find out who is behind the warehouse robberies.’ He saw Connie’s pallor blanche, and he worried he had made the biggest mistake of his life, telling her the truth in such detail.

  ‘I suspected as much.’ Connie was annoyed, her indignation obvious in her steadfast glare. ‘How dare you?’

  ‘Let me explain, Connie,’ Angus pleaded, ‘I didn’t want you to find out from someone else.’

  ‘Do you know what would happen if certain people found out I was harbouring a detective?’ Her lips curled in disgust, never having felt so betrayed. ‘This community doesn’t like a snitch.’ Connie’s voice was low, one hand leaning on the doorframe and the other on her hip, her tone deepened ominously. ‘And that’s what they would see me as!’

  ‘I will never put you in any danger of being known as an informer,’ Angus said, mesmerised, like any hot-blooded male, by her sensual poise. He had never seen her more provocative. As his feelings for Connie grew stronger, he knew he must tell her the truth.

  ‘You had better hope Mim doesn’t get wind of it,’ Connie said. ‘There are two kinds of people she cannot abide, snoops and snitches. She’ll have you up the road as soon as look at you.’

  ‘There’s something I have to tell you, Connie.’ Angus would never have told Connie who he really was if he didn’t feel so strongly about her. ‘Can you keep a close eye on the Kilgaren family?’

  ‘You want me to keep dixie for you, an’ all?’ Connie could not believe he had the gall to ask.

  ‘Keep dixie?’ Angus asked, confused, then he realised what Connie meant. ‘No, I don’t want you to be my lookout. I just want you to let me know if you think they might be in danger.’ When Connie looked worried, he said, ‘We know Darnel is involved in the warehouse robberies, and we also know he used to hide his contraband next door, and when Rene turfed him out, he left a number of valuable items that could put him away for a very long time.’

  ‘What kind of valuable items?’ Connie asked, too intrigued to be subtle. She should know better than to ask questions, but this time she couldn’t help herself.

  ‘Ration books. Points. Coupons. Cigarettes. Booze… Guns.’

  ‘Guns!?’ Connie could hardly get the word out of her mouth. ‘Bloody hell!’

  ‘So now you understand why I have to keep this between you and me,’ Angus said, his voice low. Connie’s head was spinning.

  ‘I’ve got to tell Evie,’ she said, ‘the kid’s got a right to know.’

  ‘No! Don’t do that,’ Angus said quickly. ‘The less she knows the better it will be for everybody.’

  ‘Except Darnel,’ Connie said, realising she had no choice but to keep quiet if she wanted to see that crook behind bars.

  By Monday, there weren’t many coppers in Evie’s purse, the cupboards were bare and, for the second week in a row, she could not pay the rent. She had spent every penny making sure they wanted for nothing. And while she had the money, she lavished all she could on them.

  Now she realised, she should have been a lot more sensible. She could have bought Jack a coat and trousers, she could have got the locks changed.

  Sitting at the table, she scraped the last of the margarine on two cut slices of bread for Lucy’s breakfast. Her sister didn’t notice she had eaten nothing, kept going on just a cup of sugarless tea. But at least it was hot. She must look on the bright side.

  Although the bright side was getting more dim with each passing day. She had applied for every office job in Liverpool. But her efforts were fruitless. She would have been better saving the money she paid in postage and put it towards buying food. The rent would have to wait.

  ‘Are you all right, Evie?’ Lucy asked when Evie came into the room with a comb that had most of its teeth missing.

  ‘What made you ask that?’ She combed her sister’s waist-length hair into two perfect plaits. Lucy would be warm in school, at least.

  ‘Your face looks pinched, like those poor women who slope into the pawnshop when they think nobody’s looking.’

  ‘Well, aren’t you the observant one?’ Evie said, making her voice as bright as she could, knowing she could not let Lucy go to school worried. The child could not concentrate on her studies and Evie had no intentions of putting heavy burdens on her sister’s shoulders, knowing from personal experience how much misery that caused.

  ‘It’s this cold weather, gets everybody down, not just me. Roll on summer, hey Luce!’

  ‘Roll on summer!’ Lucy said with a smile, ‘as long as you’re not worried.’

  ‘That’s the spirit, Lucy.’ Evie put the final touches to her sister’s bows. ‘Nothing at all to worry about. Now, finish getting ready before you’re late.’ Evie would have to go cap in hand to Connie, she had no choice. She prayed the cleaning job was still available. Pride was not an option – she could not let the kids starve. Nor could she afford to lose the roof over their heads. As Lucy scrambled under the table to
fetch her shoes, there was a loud knock at the front door.

  ‘If that’s Bobby, tell him I’m ready, and not to go without me,’ Lucy called from under the table. Bobby Harris had been calling for Lucy since she started at Saint Patrick’s junior school. Evie suspected Bobby found her sister’s mad-cap attitude a challenge to his own.

  ‘Come in, Bobby, she won’t be long,’ Evie called down the lobby and Bobby sauntered into the kitchen as Lucy, on hands and knees, backed out from under the table with a pair of scuffed leather T-bar shoes. Moments later, the two children were heading out the door.

  ‘Hiya Bobby! Hiya Lucy,’ Connie said with a smile, as the two passed her on the step, ‘Ta-ra, Bobby! Ta-ra, Lucy!’

  ‘Ta-ra, Connie’ they called in unison and Connie smiled. She never would have thought Bobby Harris’ best friend would be a girl and was unsure whether to be glad or disappointed the boy spent less time in the pub. Not because she wanted him to collect the glasses, but because she missed his lively chats and cheeky banter.

  ‘Hello, Connie,’ Evie said, coming out to close the front door. Nobody closed their front door in Reckoner’s Row from early morning until last thing at night, but since the weather had taken a turn for the worst, everybody closed it trying to keep out the draughts.

  ‘Hiya, Evie, have you got a minute?’ In her hand she gripped a pillowcase. She turned to make sure Bobby and Lucy were out of earshot. ‘I hope you won’t be offended, but I’ve brought these, Evie.’ She lifted the pillowcase, Evie looked puzzled and stepped aside to let Connie into the house. ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  ‘Just a few blankets and sheets – all spotless!’ Connie assured her as Evie popped her head out of the door to give Lucy a final wave. ‘If you don’t want them, I can always take them to the Red Cross shop.’ Connie didn’t want Evie to feel as if she was lumbering her with second-hand cast-offs. ‘They’re in perfect condition, no stains or patches and they’ve all been laundered.’

  ‘Oh, Connie! Are you sure?’ Evie watched Lucy and Bobby head up the steps by the canal before closing the front door. She didn’t want the rest of the street to see her business.

  ‘Let’s have a cup of tea,’ Evie said as brightly as she could manage. She’d had a sleepless night, tossing and turning, worrying about everything from the kids to where the next meal was coming from. And, to put a top hat on it, their Jack didn’t come home until nearly midnight, and was gone before she could tackle him about it this morning.

  ‘Problems?’ Connie asked, noting Evie’s expression. It couldn’t be easy for her.

  ‘The usual,’ Evie sighed. She didn’t want to burden Connie with her woes either.

  ‘A problem shared…’ Connie said, taking a seat at the table, glad to see that it was now covered in a clean, bright gingham cloth and not the old newspaper that it once had.

  ‘Lucy’s been nagging me to let her go skating on the Cut, and if she thinks I will say yes, she’s got another think coming.’ Connie was a good friend. The only friend she had. She was an understanding soul she trusted, but there were details of family life she preferred to keep to herself. What if their Jack was up to no good? It was easier for a young lad to get into trouble as not these days.

  ‘Are you sure it’s just about Lucy?’ Connie asked as Evie poured the boiling hot tea into plain white cups. Evie nodded. She couldn’t tell Connie what was worrying her – that she was failing as a guardian and a provider. The two things that she felt should come naturally.

  ‘You’re worried about something else, I can tell,’ Connie said in that gentle, persuasive tone that was as far away from the tavern as it was possible to be. Evie felt her throat tighten and the sting of tears behind her eyes.

  ‘Don’t be nice to me,’ she said with a wobbly smile. That would be her undoing. She was proved right when Connie, without a word, lightly touched her arm. The gesture spoke a thousand words. It said she understood. It said she cared. And that’s when the floodgates opened, and tears rolled down Evie’s pale cheeks.

  ‘I feel terrible,’ Evie said, pinching the skin on the back of her hand, a gesture that told Connie the girl was almost at the end of her tether. ‘Sometimes I find myself thinking, if the kids go back to Ireland where they were happy, I wouldn’t have to sacrifice my hopes and dreams to look after them.’ A dry sob shook her body. ‘And then I hate myself for thinking those things.’

  ‘No, you shouldn’t think that,’ Connie said sympathetically. ‘You have done everything you can for Jack and Lucy. None of this is your fault.’

  ‘It’s my fault if there’s no food on the table tonight,’ Evie said, ‘although, I suppose I could go along to Uncle’s and pawn these pristine bedclothes you gave me.’

  ‘I suppose you could,’ Connie said, unperturbed by Evie’s belligerent tone.

  ‘I’m not ungrateful for your help, Connie, but what chance do we have of getting out of this hand-to-mouth existence?’

  ‘Well, you can stop feeling sorry for yourself for a start,’ Connie said in her usual pragmatic way. ‘You’ve done a grand job of looking after Jack and Lucy, and you kept a roof over their head…’

  ‘Not for much longer if I don’t find the rent money before Friday,’ Evie said. ‘Connie…’ Her empty stomach growled, and she knew the only thing she might eat today was humble pie. ‘Did you manage to find anybody to take Mrs Harris’ place?’

  ‘No, not yet.’ Connie knew what Evie was getting at, and she wasn’t going to humiliate the girl by making her grovel for the job. ‘I don’t suppose you’d consider changing your mind?’

  There was a moment’s pause and the almost inaudible sigh that left Evie’s body was a palpable sign of relief to the landlady of the Tram Tavern.

  ‘Well,’ Evie answered in the most indifferent tone she could manage, ‘I suppose if it would help you out…’

  ‘That’s fantastic!’ Connie cried jumping up from her straight-backed chair and nearly knocking it over. ‘Can you start today? Now?’ Evie nodded, too full to speak. The cleaning job was not what she wanted, but she was in no position to pass it up. Where else was she going to find a job so close to home, and with hours to suit?

  Jack moved along the road with his head down and his hands as deep into his ragged pockets as they would go. Now his leg was mended he intended to help Evie as much as possible. Take that strained look off her face, if he could. She had sacrificed everything to look after him and Lucy. Her savings. Lodgings. Freedom – even the hope of getting her dream job in an office.

  This morning she’d tried persuading him she wasn’t in the least bit bothered about having no decent shoes. Even if by some small miracle there would be a knock on the front door and the offer of a much-coveted office job was hers for the taking, how could she afford shoes when she had spent all her money on rent and food? It was impossible.

  Jack heard the commotion before he saw the woolly mongrel, which was unfortunate because, with hands still in his pockets, the dog ran out in front of him and took him clean off his feet. With no way of saving himself he landed on his chin while the dog slid to a shuddering halt behind him.

  Jack saw the old man, Skinner, waving a half-eaten sandwich. ‘You robbed my dinner again – you greedy, useless hound!’

  The dog was in big trouble, for sure, and he watched it skulk back to its master with its tail between its legs. But, instead of chastising the dog, Jack watched Mr Skinner give Rex the rest of the butty, while scratching his half-chewed ear.

  ‘What am I going to do with you, ay?’ Skinner asked the dog, then noticed Jack lying on the cobbled road. ‘Did he run you down?’ the old man called, and Jack stalled an acerbic answer, getting to his feet.

  The old man beckoned him over, and he hobbled across the cobbled street.

  ‘You all right, son?’ asked the owner of the haulage yard, his bowed legs encased in brown corduroy trousers while on his head he wore a brown felt hat, the rim of which looked like every moth on the planet had nibbled it.

 
Although head and shoulders shorter than himself, Jack could see the old man was as strong as the Clydesdales that pulled the canal boats. He had hands like Wimpy shovels.

  ‘He can get a bit boisterous when there’s food on the go. Sorry about that.’

  ‘Ah, tis fine,’ Jack said, agreeable. ‘I’m used to the rough and tumble of farm life.’ An excitable dog knocking his feet from under him was nothing at all.

  ‘Well, that’s good of you, lad,’ Skinner said, when Jack shook his outstretched hand to show there was no hard feelings.

  ‘I was just about to have some dinner, there’s plenty if you want some – by way of apology, like.’

  ‘That’d be grand,’ Jack said, eager for a bite to eat. ‘Having had no breakfast this morning, me belly thinks me throat’s been cut.’ He grinned and followed the old man into the stable yard. Taking in the familiar smell of horses he had grown up with and so loved.

  ‘I’ve seen you looking through the gates, many a time,’ the old man said. Jack found an oil spot on the floor of the yard and he focused on it. He could have this yard cleaned up in no time at all.

  ‘I wasn’t looking to pinch anything!’ Jack said quickly. ‘I was looking at the horses.’

  ‘I know, lad, I know, that’s why I asked you in here.’ He opened the door of a brick out-house at the top of the yard, ‘this is the cookhouse. It’s where we mix the provender to feed the horses.’

  ‘Oh, that brings back memories,’ Jack said, inhaling. ‘I loved working with the horses when I was evacuated to Ireland,’ he said. His world was a happy place when he was around the horses and, when he closed his eyes, he was transported back to Ireland by the delicious smell of boiling beans and oats mixed in treacle, which the horses loved, and he was partial to as well.