The Orphan Daughter

by Sheila Riley

  ‘I think I’m running a fever,’ Mim said when Connie popped a thermometer into her mouth.

  ‘Don’t talk,’ Connie said, suspecting the four hot-water bottles secreted about the bed had a lot to do with her mother’s high temperature. Connie shook the thermometer and looked at Mim. She looked pale, but so did everybody these days – and without her lippy, Mim always looked insipid.

  ‘You have that nice cup of tea, and I’ll be back when I’ve cleaned the bar,’ Connie said, satisfied her mother would not toddle off her mortal coil just yet.

  When she went up later with another cup of tea and a couple of aspirins, Connie went straight her mother’s bedroom. Maybe she would fancy something to eat? Or sit in the living room and listen to the wireless for a…

  ‘Mim?’ Connie felt her heartbeat quicken, horrified when she saw her mother slumped, face-down across the bed. Don’t panic. You’re a trained nurse!

  ‘Mim… Mim are you all right?’ There was a perceptible wobble in her voice as she approached the huge double bed her mother had slept in since the day she married dear old Dad.

  Dressed in a plaid, woollen dressing-gown, Mim had one slipper on her foot and one slipper had fallen to the floor. If she was pretending to be sick, then she was doing a fine job, Connie thought. Her parched lips sticking to her teeth.

  ‘Mim. Answer me!’ Her voice rose when she turned her mother over and saw immediately. Mim was not putting on an act. Her translucent skin was devoid of colour and her eyes were closed. Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Connie prayed, don’t let her die. She lifted her mother’s limp hand and she felt her wrist for a pulse. Mim stirred and Connie breathed a short sigh of relief. But not for long.

  ‘Get me the doctor,’ Mim groaned, ‘I need something for this pain…’ Then she closed her eyes again. Connie rushed to the top of the stairs, shouting over the bannister.

  ‘Evie! Ada! Someone… Call an ambulance!’

  ‘So I wasn’t even worth the half a crown for a doctor?’ Drowsiness slurred Mim’s words as they transported her to the cream-coloured ambulance waiting outside the tavern. Connie patted her hand, accompanying her in the back of the ambulance while Evie finished the cleaning and locked up the pub.

  Within half an hour she was sitting with Connie on a wooden bench in the corridor of Stanley Hospital. When they saw the doctor approach, Connie jumped up and went to find out what was happening.

  ‘We will have to open her up,’ the doctor said. ‘I’m thinking it is a strangulated hiatus hernia. Your mother would have been in a lot of pain. We’re taking her into theatre immediately to repair the damage.’

  ‘It’s my fault,’ Connie cried, ‘I should have listened.’ Her throat tightened. ‘I should have stayed with her.’

  ‘These things happen so quickly, it is difficult. Please don’t blame yourself,’ said Doctor Walsh. ‘We will do everything we can.’

  ‘She doesn’t even know… about the baby…’ Connie told Evie, letting her tears flow unchecked. For the next few hours Connie paced the corridor outside the operating theatre. She knew what was going on behind the closed door. She knew the staff were doing their best.

  ‘I’m sure she’ll be fine,’ Angus said. His arm around Connie’s shoulder, he hoped Mim would be back to her usual chirpy self in no time. ‘I’ll go and get you a nice cup of tea from the WVS canteen,’ Angus said, feeling a little guilty. He wanted Mim up and about as soon as possible because he and Connie had a wedding to go to.

  When Mim came back from theatre, Connie hurried to meet her dazed mother and was allowed onto the ward to see her for a few minutes, on the understanding she was not to get upset again.

  ‘Oh Mim, I am so sorry,’ Connie cried, ‘I should have known you weren’t well.’

  ‘Don’t fret, love…’ Mim said, still groggy from the anaesthetic. ‘I will be fine… The doctor said I had a hated hyena… and he strangled it…’

  Connie looked to Evie, and Evie looked back. They both held in a giggle – relieved that Mim was her old befuddled self. Moments later Angus came through the door, and Connie burst into tears.

  33

  ‘I was thinking…’ Angus said, three weeks later, striking a match and putting a light under the kettle while Connie got the cups and saucers from the cupboard. ‘About the cottage… I received a letter this morning asking if I would go to the solicitor’s to sign the final documents.’

  Mim was out of hospital and more or less back to her robust self, but Connie was still unable to tell her mother she was not only moving out of the pub, but moving out of Liverpool altogether. Now, Angus was about to tell her that today was the day when the sale of the cottage was being finalised. After that, there would be no turning back.

  She would lose her precious tavern, not just the only true home she had ever known but also her livelihood, her independence. And what about Mim? She had been so poorly, and she would have to fend for herself, alone, and run the pub…

  ‘Angus… I… I…’ Connie’s heart was sinking. How could she tell Mim she was moving out? And how could she tell Angus she didn’t want to live in the quiet countryside.

  ‘What I was thinking,’ Angus interrupted, ‘is that we’re not cut out for the quiet life right now, you and me.’ His words were slow and measured and Connie felt the blood in her veins grow cold. Had he changed his mind about wanting to make an honest woman of her? She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. What could she say?

  ‘So, I was thinking… what if we stay on here in the tavern? I’ll still buy the cottage – it’s the only thing I have left of my brother.’ Connie nodded, of course. ‘But we don’t have to live there permanently. It could be our very own bolt-hole when Mim wants a bit of peace.’

  ‘You would do that for me, Angus?’ Connie asked, and Angus nodded his head.

  ‘You know I would,’ he said, his arms around her waist, his words full of love. ‘Anything that makes you happy, my darling.’

  ‘Would you give up detective work and help me run the tavern?’ Or was she being greedy, asking him to give up the work he loved, wanting the moon, the stars and the sun-shiny sky?

  ‘It’s time I settled down,’ Angus said. ‘Always being on duty took its toll on my first marriage, I don’t want that to happen again with you. I want to watch my son grow…’

  Connie raised her eyebrows. ‘Your son? We will have to wait and see.’ She nestled in the security of his loving arms, sure that this all-consuming happiness came around only once in a lifetime.

  Angus gave a contented sigh. Giving up his job would be a bit of a wrench, but it was worth it. Although, he would probably keep his hand in somewhere along the line. However, at thirty-seven, he knew he wasn’t too old to start a new way of life with the woman he adored.

  34

  Connie woke very early on the morning of her wedding three weeks later, and looked out of her bedroom window, the semi-circular bay giving her a birds-eye view of the dock road and the Liverpool waterfront.

  Even at this early hour, the bustle and the busyness was a regular sight. The overhead railway carrying workers along the seven miles of docks, and the ships lying like huge child-bearing mothers, sustaining not only the city but the country as a whole.

  The golden glint of sunshine dappled the murky waters of the Mersey, as if dressing it up for her special day and Connie smiled to herself. This view would remain with her for the rest of her life.

  She could hear her mother noisily rattling cups in the kitchen, and when she padded barefoot to the living room, she saw Mim, resplendent in her red plaid dressing gown and dark hairnet, was already pouring tea.

  ‘I’ll do that, Mim,’ Connie said, knowing her irrepressible mother wasn’t going to let something as insignificant as a brush with death stop her making a cup of tea on the morning of her only daughter’s wedding.

  ‘And why would I let you do that?’ Mim asked. ‘It’s not as if I’m incarcerated.’ She had lost all interest in the wedding when Connie told her ini
tially that she would be moving away from Reckoner’s Row.

  ‘I think you mean incapacitated, Mim.’ Connie smiled. Mim resisted all urges to organise her wedding day and had looked on in silent censure, not wanting anything to do with the whole debacle, and said so in no uncertain terms – Connie was thrilled. Nothing was going to spoil her big day.

  ‘I know what I mean,’ Mim said, pushing Connie’s cup and saucer across the table.

  ‘Mim,’ Connie said, thinking this was the best time to let her mother know she was staying.

  ‘You don’t mind if Angus and I stay on here after our honeymoon in the country, do you?’ She knew her mother dreaded being left on her own since her father died and found the last few years of the war a particular trial. Mim’s eyes lit up momentarily, but she was giving nothing away.

  ‘What about that fancy cottage? You said it was the best place you’d ever seen.’

  ‘I know,’ Connie replied, ‘but it’s so far away. You’d have to get a train and two buses if you wanted to come and visit.’

  ‘Me? Visit?’ Mim said, buttering her toast with as much care as Michelangelo must have done when painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. ‘I’ll be far too busy running this place alone to visit anybody.’

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ Connie explained, ‘and you only get one mam…’ The events of the last weeks and months had taught her that much.

  ‘Oh well, if you feel you can’t manage without me,’ Mim sighed, issuing an off-hand wave, ‘I’ll just have to get used to the idea.’

  ‘I thought you’d say that.’ Connie knew the news was a relief, when Mim suddenly sprung up and went to fetch her new wine-coloured cavalier hat.

  ‘What do you think?’ Mim asked, stroking the lustrous, iridescent side feathers that curved from the velvet brim to the magisterial tilt of her chin. Suddenly she radiated a new vibrancy, wanting to go over the table arrangements, the seating plans. Connie knew she had done the right thing keeping her good news from her mother up ’til now, given Mim’s startling burst of unfettered enthusiasm.

  Let Mim have this, she thought, nothing could go wrong now. She had organised everything just the way she and Angus wanted their day. Even the weather was accommodating. The indulgent sky was brightest blue, the sun was shining and there was nothing that could possibly mar her perfect day…

  ‘I do,’ Connie said gazing up into Angus’ deep blue eyes. She wore an elegant pale blue calf-length skirt and matching fitted jacket with a nipped-in waist that showed her curvaceous figure and brought a special glint to the eyes of her husband-to-be.

  The so-called New Look costume was all the rage – if you had the money and the coupons to buy the sophisticated outfit that showed Connie’s flawless complexion and dazzling eyes to perfection. On her head she wore a pale blue beret with matching lace that covered her bride-flushed face.

  Lucy was a delightful flower girl, and maid of honour Evie caused Danny Harris’ heart to skip a beat when he saw her follow Connie into the church. Jack, resplendent in a brand-new suit, walked the bride up the aisle of Saint Patrick’s church to stand beside Angus and his best man, Birdy Finch, while Mim dabbed her happy powder-puffed eyes.

  When the ceremony was over, they trailed out of the church into the Saturday morning sunshine, heading to Old Man Skinner’s shire horse standing ready to pull a painted cart dressed in white ribbons, even though Connie asked Jack not to make a fuss.

  ‘If I can’t make a fuss of the woman who saved my life, then who can I make a fuss of,’ Jack said, swelling with pride in his navy-blue three-piece suit, complete with his very own matching waistcoat – he had not been so well dressed since he made his first holy communion – except, this time he would not allow his finery to go straight into Uncle Bill’s pawnshop!

  Angus helped his new bride up the wooden steps and seated her on the bench that had been constructed and they waved to the residents who had come from all over Bootle to see the happy couple and share in their fabulous day.

  ‘Oh, it was a lovely service,’ a neighbour said. ‘Little Lucy looked like a little ballerina in her frothy yellow dress. But it’s Evie I feel so sorry for, she has it all to do now her mother’s not here.’

  ‘I heard she’s as happy as they come,’ another neighbour said.

  Connie raised an ecstatic eyebrow. The tide had turned regarding how the residents of Reckoner’s Row felt about Evie and at last, they saw her not as the daughter of Rene Kilgaren who was no better than she ought to be, but as the stoic young woman who was bringing up her siblings as best she could under the circumstances.

  And it did Connie’s heart the power of good to know most people could only see the good in the girl these days. Ada Harris was another matter altogether. That woman had a swinging brick instead of a heart where Evie was concerned.

  ‘May I be so bold?’ Danny Harris said to Evie, encouraging her to link his arm, then turning to Lucy he nodded for her to take the other arm and they neared the second carriage with Jack.

  ‘Why, thank you, kind sir.’ Lucy looked to her older sister and smiled. Evie’s face had turned a lovely shade of pink and, determined not to look at anybody, stared straight ahead. Lucy looked to Danny, who winked and gave her a little nudge with his elbow.

  Lucy felt they had shared an unspoken secret. He had his eye on their Evie and their Evie knew it. That’s why she refused to look at him. Lucy smiled. It would be lovely if Evie accepted Danny’s invitation to go to the pictures with him one night.

  Swelling with pride in her borrowed bridesmaid dress of lemon-dyed parachute silk with a white tulle overskirt, Lucy felt like Cinderella about to go to the ball when Danny helped her onto the carriage. She noticed he saved the seat next to himself for Evie.

  ‘The bride looks nice,’ Danny said, and Evie nodded, her face growing an even deeper shade of pink. ‘It’s been a lovely day so far, the sun came out at just the right time,’ he continued, and Evie nodded again. He turned to Lucy and smiling he asked: ‘Did you notice when it went missing?’

  ‘What went missing?’ she asked, her eyes wide.

  ‘Evie’s voice, she seems to have lost it.’

  Lucy giggled and lowered her eyes when Evie gave her a silent caution. But Danny was a little bolder. Dressed in all his finery, Lucy thought he looked dapper in his navy blue, double-breasted, pinstriped jacket and matching trousers. The turn-ups had a crease so sharp you could do yourself an injury if you touched it.

  ‘I expect she’ll find it lying around somewhere.’ Danny cupped his lips to Lucy’s ear and stage-whispered loud enough for Evie to hear, ‘And then we’ll never hear the last of it.’

  Lucy couldn’t help herself; Danny was funny, she threw her head back and laughed. Evie couldn’t help but smile.

  ‘You two are impossible,’ Evie said, looking over Jack’s shoulder opposite, not trusting herself to look at Danny, who was… impossible.

  They headed back to the tavern where tables, magnificent in best white tablecloths, glittering crystal glasses and gleaming silverware graced the T-formation tables in the best part of the Tram Tavern where Mim had no hesitation in giving the guests a privileged viewing of a three-tiered spectacular, sitting in all its white-icing glory at the top table.

  Connie, greeting her guests, was thrilled when she saw Angus talking to Jack and Danny. He had slotted into Reckoner’s Row like the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle and made her life complete.

  Connie hadn’t realised up ’til now how much she would miss this place and its people if she left for good. The tavern. Mim… most of all, Mim. The Kilgarens. The gossip. The laughs. The joys and tribulations that went into the making of her everyday life. Things she took for granted. She would have missed it with all her heart, and she was glad that Angus agreed to stay on here.

  Anyway, she thought, what would she have done when Angus was working all day? She didn’t need to work any longer. But she liked working. It made her feel vibrant, and so much a part of this higgledy-p
iggledy community of diverse characters, who filled each day with pleasure and frustration in equal measure. She was sure she could join the village women in their various guilds and associations? But…

  Connie knew she was more accustomed to hauling drunks out of the bar at closing time than flower arranging in the village hall. She had nothing in common with those refined ladies of the church committee.

  A small tinkle of silver on crystal told her that Angus was about to start his speech, and as Connie sat looking up at her wonderful husband, her heart filled with love and pride.

  ‘Ladies and Gentlemen,’ Angus began to a roomful of cheers. He gave a small laugh and turned to look at Connie, who shook her head and smiled. He thanked everybody for coming, gave Evie a pair of gold earrings, which he and Connie had chosen together and gave Lucy a gold bangle which made her squeal with joy. To Jack he gave a wrapped gift, which Angus asked him not to open until later. Jack thanked him and looked confused, but something told him to leave it unopened on the table.

  Evie felt her heart pound against her ribs when Mim told her that Danny Harris had eyes for her alone.

  ‘He’s courting,’ Evie said, her cheeks glowing.

  ‘When you walked up the aisle behind our Connie,’ Mim said, ‘everybody noticed, even Susie Blackthorn. I heard her telling him to stop gawping… She didn’t sound thrilled neither.’

  ‘Oh, Mim, don’t say things like that.’ Evie would have loved it if Danny had been looking at her, but quite rightly, it was Connie who held everybody’s attention.

  ‘I can hear the music starting, and I know how much you young ones love to dance.’