The Orphan Daughter

by Sheila Riley

  Entering the cookhouse, Jack luxuriated in the warmth that seeped into his frozen bones and began to thaw him.

  ‘You like horses?’ Mr Skinner asked and Jack nodded.

  ‘It’s always been a dream of mine to work with them.’

  ‘Can you start Monday?’

  ‘Beg pardon?’ Jack asked, not daring to hope he had heard right.

  ‘That’s your job if you want it, lad,’ said Skinner, ‘I need a lad to fetch fresh bales of straw for the bedding. My old bones are getting very much worse for wear of late and climbing those steps to the hayloft is a job I don’t mind sharing I can tell you.’

  ‘You mean, you’re offering me a job!’

  ‘Aye, if you’re willing,’ the old man said. ‘You can earn thirteen shillings and sixpence a week, Monday through Saturday noon-time, and if you work late Saturday, I’ll give you an extra shilling on top. Deal?’ He held out his big gnarled hand and Jack took it, shaking it hard. ‘Be hopes you’re more gentle with these here horses,’ said Mr Skinner.

  ‘Does anybody else work here?’ Jack asked as they sat in the lovely warm cookhouse eating bacon and egg, which he cooked in a baking tin on the fire. Old Man Skinner, as Jack thought of him, stuffed great rashers of bacon and fried egg between two thick slices of bread – and Jack had tasted nothing so delicious in all his days.

  ‘Aye, there’s the blacksmith and a few vans lads who go out with the carters, and the head horse keeper, Brick Macmillan. He’ll give you your orders when I’m not around.’

  ‘When you’re not around?’ Jack asked finishing his lid of hot, sweet tea.

  ‘Aye cooped up in that ruddy office trying to make sense of the paperwork – it were never my strong point.’

  He showed Jack where he would work after they’d had their fill of food and huge mugs of tea and introduced him to the horses. Jack could barely contain his excitement.

  ‘Eight o’clock, Monday morning,’ Skinner said a short while later, walking Jack to the huge double gates. ‘Don’t be late. Come on, Rex, you scoundrel.’

  When Jack turned to wave goodbye, the auld man and his beloved dog had already disappeared into the office. Evie might not be best pleased if she found out he had no intentions of going back to school ever again. But he would cross that bridge when he came to it. Maybe it would be best to say nothing to her for the time being.

  He didn’t notice the blast of cold wind as he walked home, head held high, hands in pockets, whistling a jaunty tune. Nor did he notice the figure under the bridge staring into the frozen canal.

  ‘Stop hiding in your mother’s shadow and let people be your friend,’ Connie said later when the lavatories had been scrubbed and the floors mopped, and they were having a mid-morning break. ‘And I know you think I’m being harsh, Evie, but you need to realise you have the determination and strength your mother never had.’ Poor Evie was stronger than she imagined. And she was going to need that strength in the weeks ahead.

  ‘It doesn’t feel that way sometimes,’ Evie answered, ‘I feel as if I’m trudging through treacle and getting nowhere fast.’

  ‘Have the police heard anything?’ Connie asked and Evie shook her head.

  ‘She’ll come back when she’s good and ready, I suppose.’ She didn’t want to talk about her mother and quickly changed the subject. ‘I’m sorry I let you down over the job the other day,’ Evie said. ‘Pride made me jump the gun.’ Evie hadn’t intended to tell Connie she was on the lookout for better things, it popped out. ‘I was expecting to walk into an office job when I got my certificate… but…’

  ‘Think no more of it.’ Connie’s face beamed. ‘At least you’re next door, and you won’t have to start before Lucy goes off to school.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Evie could not keep the relief from her voice and Connie nodded.

  ‘There’s something else I wanted to ask you,’ Connie said. ‘How do you fancy going over my accounts?’ Evie couldn’t believe her ears! She felt privileged, being trusted with something as important as the tavern’s accounts which gave her lacking pride a much-needed boost.

  Connie smiled. ‘You can take the books home and give them a going-over. Mim’s getting slapdash, and I haven’t got the time.’

  Being given such responsibility delighted Evie. ‘I’d love to. I won’t let you down.’

  ‘I know you won’t,’ Connie said, ‘and there’ll be a few bob in it for you now that the weather’s getting warmer, fuel shortages are lessening, and people are getting back to normal. I hear Beamers opened up again yesterday.’ Connie thumped the table with the pad of her hand. ‘I shouldn’t have said that, now you will want to go back there.’

  ‘I made a promise to you, Connie,’ Evie assured her. ‘I won’t be going back to Beamers.’ She couldn’t bear the thought of that snooty Susie Blackthorn looking down her nose again. Anyway, Evie thought, she didn’t have a decent pair of shoes for an office.

  ‘And the men are getting more work on the docks so they’re coming back into the tavern, boosting the coffers. Happy days!’

  ‘I won’t lie, Connie, it will be good to have money coming in again.’

  ‘Aye, things might look up for all of us,’ Connie said. She didn’t mention Angus suspected the Kilgarens might be in danger. She didn’t want to frighten Evie. Nor did she want word getting back to Mim, who was well known for throwing a wobbly when she felt aggrieved! Her mother had a deep distrust of police after they arrested her dad for being drunk in charge of a runaway dray horse that caused havoc on the dock road. No, some things were best kept quiet. See how the land lies.

  ‘What do I owe you for the blankets?’ Evie asked, worrying that her purse was almost empty.

  ‘Nothing,’ Connie said, shaking her head. ‘I need the room. Mim got them from the army and navy surplus. It’s no use me having unused spare blankets taking up space, when you and the kids can make use of them.’

  ‘You don’t have to feel obliged because Mam used to work with you.’ Evie would hate to be a burden on Connie’s good nature.

  ‘It’s no trouble at all.’ Connie said, her eyes bright. ‘Your mam was a good worker and as honest as the day was long.’ Connie threw her head back and laughed. ‘Well, most of the time, but I could always trust her with the contents of the till – and she would never dream of helping herself to the stock. In my book, you can’t ask more than that.’

  ‘Thanks ever so much, Connie.’ Evie felt an unfamiliar swell of pride. She had heard nobody say good things about her mother. Then again, she had had little to do with the neighbours, so she didn’t know what they thought.

  ‘Your mam isn’t as awful as she’s painted,’ Connie said with a knowing smile. ‘She picked the wrong men, that’s all. Bastards, every one of them.’

  ‘Is that all men?’ Evie asked. ‘Or just me mam’s?’

  ‘Just your mam’s’ Connie said. ‘She could pick a winner with her eyes closed, but she couldn’t pick a good man if she fell over one.’

  ‘What about Dad?’ Evie didn’t know whether to be insulted, but as it was Connie, she knew she was telling the truth.

  ‘Don’t ask me about him, for God’s sake! You wouldn’t be impressed. Remember him as he was.’ Evie wasn’t sure she wanted to, recalling some screaming matches that went on inside this house when her father came home on leave from sea.

  But one thing Connie was right about – her mother never went for the pipe and slippers type of man. Evie found it easy to talk to Connie and had learned that a trouble shared was less of a burden. Connie was wise, as well as knowledgeable. She knew everybody, and they knew her. But she also knew when to speak out and when to keep silent. Evie had never had a friend as good as Connie. A few moments later, Angus came into the bar, instead of using the private side door.

  ‘Hello, Angus.’ Connie said. ‘I thought you’d have gone to work by now.’

  ‘I had to make a call,’ Angus answered, and Evie wondered if the twinkle in his eyes when he looked at Connie wa
s her imagination playing tricks? On closer inspection she was certain. The look he gave Connie could have melted snow.

  ‘I’ll get on, shall I?’ Evie said, knowing whatever went on between Connie and Angus was none of her concern. There was only the bar left to polish and then she would get off home in time to cook some dinner for Lucy and Jack.

  ‘I need to show you where the polish is. Bye, Angus’ Connie answered quickly, pushing Evie towards the cleaning cupboard.

  ‘Bye, sweetheart,’ Angus called, sauntering out of the bar. ‘I’ll see you this evening.’

  ‘Was it my imagination or did he call you…?’ Evie asked, wide-eyed.

  ‘It was your imagination!’ A deep red honeycombed pattern broke out on Connie’s neck showing her obvious disquiet at the Scotsman’s endearment. Evie busied herself in the store cupboard and smiled to herself. Well, well, well, she thought. Connie and Angus?

  She couldn’t think of a nicer couple.

  ‘He’s not who he seems, is he?’ Evie said putting away her cloths and polish and she saw caution in Connie’s eyes, which confirmed her suspicions.

  ‘He’s – and you’ve got to keep this to yourself – he’s a…’ Connie stammered, which was most unlike her.

  ‘A scuffer?’ Evie said, and Connie’s look of surprise told her she was right. ‘You don’t have to live with villains like Leo Darnel to sniff out police. Clean shirt every day, clean fingernails, treats everybody with respect and has that air of authority about him.’ Connie managed a wan smile when Evie said, ‘he’s either police or church and I don’t see a dog collar.’

  21

  ‘You won’t say anything? To Mim, I mean,’ Connie was sitting at one of the round tables opposite the bar when Evie came through, after putting her pinny on the back door of the small anteroom laughingly known as the staff room, except two staff couldn’t fit in comfortably at the same time. Two china saucers held matching cups of hot tea beside which sat an identical plate of corned beef sandwiches, cut into triangles.

  ‘It’s none of my business,’ Evie said, her stomach growling at the sight of the sandwiches. She’d had nothing but a couple of spoons of vegetable soup since yesterday teatime. Any more and there wouldn’t have been enough for Jack and Lucy to eat. ‘You’ve been good to me and my family, Connie. Now it’s payback. If my silence is the one thing I can give you, then you can have it with pleasure.’

  ‘Thank you, Evie,’ Connie said giving her friend a hug. ‘You don’t know how much that means to me.’ In that moment, there was a silent assurance between the two women that would last a lifetime.

  ‘I think I do.’ Evie raised a knowing smile. Angus could not arouse suspicion in a place where everyone knew someone who was doing something that was a bit off-centre of legal.

  ‘His easy-going manner and friendly banter is a boon in the bar,’ Connie said, and Evie could see her friend was obviously captivated. ‘But I can’t tell Mim he’s a detective. Not with the “arrangements” she’s got with tradespeople. She’d have a canary.’ The two women laughed at the thought.

  ‘Come and have a butty,’ Connie said, tucking into her sandwich. ‘Mim made them, so the corned beef’s as thick as doorsteps, hope you don’t mind.’

  ‘Mind?’ Evie said dragging a chair out and sitting opposite Connie. ‘Why would I?’ She picked up a sandwich took a bigger bite than intended, immediately aware that Connie must think her so greedy. Ashamed, she swallowed hard. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

  ‘It’s a butty, not a five-course feast.’ Connie flicked her hand as if swatting a fly, suspecting the food meant much more to Evie than a mere sandwich. She also suspected, rightly, that Evie had not eaten a proper meal since she came back to Reckoner’s Row.

  ‘I’m glad you took up my offer,’ Connie said, ‘the job might not be what you expected but…’

  ‘It’s a job,’ Evie answered matter-of-factly, ‘and I’m glad of it.’

  ‘You won’t always be a cleaner,’ Connie said, causing the girl’s eyebrows to rise. ‘You’ve got ambition and guts – how did you get on with your final examinations, last summer?’

  ‘Passed with flying colours, I can call myself a bookkeeper.’ Evie grinned proudly. ‘But it hasn’t done me much good so far, every time I go for an interview, they want experience. How do I get experience if no bugger will employ me?’

  ‘Something will turn up, I’m sure,’ Connie said.

  ‘Aye, probably my toes,’ Evie answered with a laugh. This morning’s work had put a spring in her step, brought a bit of security she hadn’t felt since she left Beamers. It was good to get out of the house, away from her own miserable worry of where the next meal was coming from.

  ‘If I could get me hands on me mother,’ Evie said, finishing her sandwich, ‘I’d wring her bloody neck for leaving those two poor kids. What kind of mother does that?’

  ‘Don’t be too hard on her,’ Connie said, ‘circumstances made her like that. She didn’t have it easy.’ Especially with your domineering father, she wanted to say. But out of respect for the girl’s dignity, Connie decided not to open old wounds.

  ‘I wouldn’t know,’ Evie said. For some unknown reason, she suddenly felt as if a dark cloud was resting on her shoulders. She didn’t want to talk about the old days.

  ‘Have the police heard anything yet?’ Connie asked, changing the subject.

  ‘No, they’ve scoured every haunt she visits, but no one’s heard a peep.’ Evie sighed; even she was beginning to worry.

  ‘What about the spiv, has he heard anything?’ Connie was surprised he still showed his face, but now she understood why. He was keeping an eye on Evie.

  ‘He wouldn’t tell me if he had,’ Evie said. ‘He’s not the sharing type where I’m concerned.’ She decided not to mention his ominous warning. Probably trying to frighten her if the truth be told. Well, Evie thought, if he came anywhere near number two, she would be ready for him – and so would their Jack.

  ‘Some spivs will help you out, but not him, he’s downright bloody evil,’ Connie said, suspecting Rene must have been desperate to leave her kids. She’d never been gone this long before. ‘Your mam might be a lot of things,’ Connie said, ‘including foolish where men are concerned, but she was a good wife. Never played away while Frank was at sea.’ Even though he was a swine. Connie kept that thought to herself. The way he treated Rene was little short of cruelty. But she wouldn’t say anything to Evie. Rene told her those things in confidence.

  ‘Last time Darnel was in the tavern he tried selling knocked-off stuff to Mim. But even she won’t touch the stuff he sells – and that’s saying something.’

  Evie didn’t ask why, but Connie told her anyway. ‘Mim will buy off anyone if the price is right.’ Noting the surprised look on Evie’s face, she laughed, ‘oh don’t let that “lovable old lady” act fool you, Mim can make a penny scream. If there’s a chance she can make on a deal you can bet your life she’ll take it – but, to give her credit, she won’t touch anything from Darnel, and if you’ve got any sense neither will you.’

  ‘You must think I was born yesterday,’ Evie said. ‘If I never saw him again it would be too soon.’

  ‘Good on you,’ Connie knew that even poor people had codes of decency and even though their flexible scruples allowed them to share in a poor docker’s booty, they would never fill Darnel’s over-stuffed coffers if they could help it. In these harsh times, Connie knew many housewives felt justified in buying off the black market, because of the prolonged austerity caused by the war, they felt they must fill that gap between the amount their men earned, and what they were actually paid.

  ‘I expected better days to come when the war ended,’ Connie sighed, ‘but rationing has got worse instead of better.’

  ‘People round here don’t steal from their own, though,’ Evie said, draining her cup. ‘But Leo Darnel would steal from his own mother if he had a buyer lined up.’

  ‘I don’t know what your mother eve
r saw in the ugly little runt.’ Connie murmured.

  ‘Me neither,’ Evie answered. ‘He’s not a patch on my dad, if he were here today none of this would have happened.’

  I could be sure about that. Connie thought, getting up, a signal that break time was over.

  Evie put the empty crockery on to a tray and headed to the small kitchen behind the bar.

  ‘Our Lucy’s been having nightmares, even wetting the bed,’ she said, feeling she could share a confidence with Connie, ‘and our Jack’s out all hours of the day and night. I’m worried sick.’

  ‘Where does he go?’ Connie’s dark eyes were full of concern. She could only imagine what Evie must be going through, never having been fortunate enough to have kids of her own.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Evie answered. ‘He says he’s just knocking about with a few of the lads – but that seems a bit far-fetched in this weather? He hasn’t been back to school even though his leg is better.’

  ‘You must be at your wits’ end, love,’ Connie said, feeling heart sorry for the girl’s predicament. But Evie never complained before, and she wondered if all this upset was a strain on Evie’s nerves. Her worries about her siblings would be compounded by the lack of money to buy a loaf of bread.

  ‘Here,’ Connie said, ‘put that in your purse.’ She sloped a ten-bob note into Evie’s hand. ‘You did a smashing job today.’

  ‘But I’ve only worked one morning,’ Evie said, ‘I can’t take this for one morning’s work.’

  ‘We’ll sort it out another time,’ Connie said, having no intention of taking the money back. ‘You’ve got enough on your plate as it is. How long has Jack been sagging school?’

  ‘He hasn’t been back since the incident.’ Evie picked up a clean bar towel and began drying the cups, she still could not bring herself to refer to the shooting as such. ‘As soon as his leg was better, he was up and out. He has money, but I don’t know where he gets it from, he won’t say.’