Mary Kate

by Nadine Dorries

  ‘Hold it together, Joan,’ she whispered. ‘Let’s do what we have to do and then when she’s gone, I’ll tell you everything, I promise. Sorry, but there’s something I need to do. You fetch her tea – I have to go upstairs.’

  Joan gasped and her hand flew to her mouth in horror.

  ‘Go, Joan, or she’ll be down here giving out to you.’

  Glancing up the stairwell to check that Lavinia Marcus was on the top floor, Mary Kate left Joan and took the stairs two at a time to the first landing. From upstairs, she heard little voices protesting.

  ‘Is Daddy coming?’

  ‘I’m not going to Grandma’s house without my soldiers, am I? Daddy won’t know what to do with the battle, Mummy.’

  ‘Mummy, what about my comics?’

  She couldn’t hear Lavinia’s answers, but when the wailing started, that told her all she needed to know. Aware that she didn’t have the time to think about whether what she was doing was right or not, she slipped into the dressing room, edged past the cheval mirror and lifted the boxes on the chair. The note was still there.

  She reached out and tucked it into her pocket, then turned to exit the room. She was too late. Her heart stopped as she heard Lavinia’s footsteps crashing down the wooden stairs leading to the nursery floor and Joan’s room. She would either turn right along the short landing and go into the bedroom, or she’d take the first left into the dressing room. If it was left, Mary Kate was done for.

  She looked about her. The only place to hide was among the racks of clothes, but she would be discovered if Lavinia was packing. The footsteps came closer and her heart was beating so fast, she thought she might faint. They stopped right outside the door and Lavinia shouted over the bannister, ‘Joan, hurry up with that tea. I have to draw a bath. Sort the boys out, will you.’ And with that, she continued past the door.

  The second Mary Kate heard the brass taps turn and the water clank through the pipes, she tiptoed out of the room. She was on the last stair as Lavinia Marcus stormed out of the bathroom and into the dressing room, unaware that Mary Kate had left only seconds before.

  *

  One frenetic hour later, Joan walked into the kitchen balancing a tray between unsteady hands. On a plate lay a raw steak and next to it a bowl of ice cubes.

  ‘Here, try this, it’s supposed to work wonders on a black eye.’ Joan lifted the slab of meat with her fingertips and swung it in the air in front of Mary Kate’s face. Her hands were still shaking and the steak quivered. She looked as though she’d shed a few tears herself – her face was as red and blotchy as the steak.

  Mary Kate, on the other hand, had remained composed in the face of Lavinia Marcus’s rage, too angry to flinch.

  ‘Tip your head back, go on,’ said Joan. ‘And then, while the steak’s working, I’ll make us some tea and you can tell us what’s going on. Honest to God, by all that’s holy, Mary Kate, nothing has been right since the second you walked through that door.’

  ‘It’s not my fault,’ Mary Kate protested. She lifted her head and the steak slipped.

  ‘Keep your head back and your mouth shut,’ said Joan as she replaced her dubious cure.

  Half of the steak rested against Mary Kate’s lips and the smell of blood made her feel sick. ‘Oh, Jesus, I can’t do this,’ she squealed. She threw the steak back down, picked up one of the ice cubes and held it in place.

  Joan had taken the tray and put a pot of tea on it. She sat down next to her. ‘I can’t believe what’s going on. The boys have gone. What is there to do? I still have Jack’s shirts in the basket to iron – he’s gone without them. And look…’ She leapt out of her seat and retrieved Jack’s teddy from the hall table, where he’d left it when the drivers were lifting the cases into the car. ‘He will be lost without his teddy. Do you think she’ll send the car back for it?’

  ‘Do you?’ asked Mary Kate, in a tone that gave Joan her answer.

  Joan handed Mary Kate her tea and in a much quieter voice said, ‘What is going on? Will you tell me, please? I know you’re involved.’

  Mary Kate dropped the ice cube into the bowl, where it landed with a clink, and gracefully took the tea. ‘I will. Come on, sit back down.’

  Joan slid onto the chair, clutching the teddy. As she did so, there was an enormous bang on the back door. ‘Mother of God, is there no peace? Oh, it’ll be the driver for the teddy. See! Ye of little faith.’ A grin crossed Joan’s face. ‘Or maybe they’re back?’

  ‘What, knocking on their own back door? I don’t think so, Joan.’

  Mary Kate removed her handkerchief from up her sleeve and wiped her face. It stared back at her, smeared in blood. She was dipping the handkerchief into the iced water ready for a second wipe when Joan opened the door. Her hand hovered in mid air as she heard a voice she recognised.

  ‘Is my daughter Mary Kate here, please? I’ve come to take her home.’

  And without further ado, Michael, Deidra, Mrs O’Keefe and Cat walked into the kitchen.

  28

  ‘I’m not coming.’ Mary Kate was unequivocal in her response.

  Mary Kate, her father, Mrs O’Keefe and Cat were sitting around the Marcuses’ kitchen table, having been through the routine of making small talk. Deidra and Joan were at the sink, rinsing cups and preparing tea, communicating with each other via raised eyebrows and sighs.

  ‘You have to, Mary Kate,’ said Michael. ‘I cannot leave you here in Liverpool on your own.’

  ‘I’m not on my own, Daddy. I’m living with Mrs O’Keefe and I’m working here, for Dr Marcus, his wife and his family.’ She crossed her fingers under the table and shot a look to Joan. Who sent a disapproving look back that said, ‘You are a terrible person, Mary Kate, and you will rot in hell for that.’

  Eileen O’Keefe sat with her hands in her lap, staring down, doing battle with herself, her suspicions and all that she knew. She gave a big sigh.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs O’Keefe. You shouldn’t be involved in all this,’ said Michael. ‘You hardly know us and it is a great imposition on your time and your hospitality.’

  ‘No, not at all,’ she replied. ‘I’ve lived alone since the death of my husband, Mr Malone. I was more than happy for Mary Kate to live with Deidra and me.’

  ‘Well, if I might say so, she’s a very lucky lady to have landed on her feet like that and I will give thanks in prayer for the rest of me life that she met you.’

  Eileen smiled. He reminded her of her husband. Irishmen were all the same when it boiled down to it – proud, reactionary and passionate. ‘Mr Malone, the thing is, over the years I have met lots of fathers from Ireland on the boat. All coming over to look for their daughters. And as you can see, I employ one such girl myself.’ She smiled at Deidra. ‘In fact, Deidra’s own father turned up on my doorstep – isn’t that right, Deidra?’

  Deidra blushed. ‘Yes, Mrs O’Keefe.’

  ‘The fact is, Mr Malone, Deidra’s father was convinced that Deidra had landed herself in the path of temptation and sin – those were his words. That she was working as a maid in a house of ill repute. Now, he was quickly disabused of that notion, but do you see my point? You have seen my house. The fear rarely matches up to the reality, in my experience.’

  Michael removed his cap, laid it on his knees and began to twist it around. Unbeknown to him, Cat’s eyes never left his face. She was sitting almost forgotten at the furthest corner of the table, silently chanting, ‘Stay. Stay. Stay.’ A thrill ran through her. There was a chance he would. She could see he was weighing things up, wavering. She remembered the gentle touch of his thumbs against her hips as he effortlessly lifted her body onto his. Her thighs ached and she could feel the bruises on her breasts, made by his lips only hours before, pressing against the fabric of her dress. Her life could alter beyond all recognition. She could love again – she knew it. She could live more than half a life. She was ready.

  Michael, shamefaced, looked about the room. ‘I feel like a fool altogether,’ he said. �
�I came over here ready to pick you up and put you under my arm and drag you back if I had to.’

  ‘’Tis not your fault, Daddy,’ said Mary Kate, feeling that she was winning, that the will of room was on her side, easing her father back to the Mersey and the boat journey home, leaving her anchored there in Liverpool.

  She would not go; she could not. Because, while everyone was talking, in the midst of all the chaos, all she could do was count down the hours until Dr Marcus was due home. She could not, however hard she tried, prevent her mind from wandering to their kiss and the thrill that had coursed through her. She could still recall the feel, the taste, the smell of him. She closed her eyes and swayed in her seat with the sheer ecstatic headiness brought on by nothing more than the memory.

  ‘Mary Kate…’ It was Deidra. ‘Do you want your tea? Is the missus out, Joan?’ she said as she laid the tea tray on the table.

  Joan’s face was set. She would not go into the confessional and tell Father Kenny that she had lied. She would not. She glared at Mary Kate.

  ‘She is, Deidra. Taken the boys shopping for clothes,’ said Mary Kate, her fingers crossed again.

  ‘Aha, it was them. I thought it was, going down the avenue in a car when I was upstairs,’ said Deidra.

  Mary Kate wanted to jump up and kiss her.

  ‘What happened to your eye?’ asked Cat, who’d noticed the swelling and could feel her opportunity to ensnare Michael slipping away.

  ‘Honestly, Cat, have you seen Jet?’

  Jet lifted his head from his basket by the fire.

  ‘I’d just brought him back from his walk, taken his lead off, and when I put it in the bowl on the table, he turned round and ran back out of the door. So I gave chase and the doorframe tried to stop me. I swear to God, he tried to flick the door shut with his paw before I moved.’

  They all laughed. Jet’s ears dropped flat to his head, his eyes looking from one to the other in confusion. Joan almost dropped the tray. Never in her entire life had she seen someone lie so much and so fast. She glanced up at the ceiling, expecting to see it collapse on top of them.

  Michael placed his hands on the table and eased himself up. ‘I should be going,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to inconvenience you any longer, Mrs O’Keefe. Might Mary Kate be permitted to come to the Pier Head with me?’ he asked Joan, who he assumed was the housekeeper and Mary Kate’s superior.

  Joan nodded. ‘No need to be asking me,’ she said. ‘No one cares what happens in this house. I think I’ll go to the films this afternoon – and why not.’

  Everyone laughed, as though Joan were joking. Joan leant halfway across the table, arms outstretched, wiping away the crumbs from the packet of biscuits she’d arranged in a fan on a plate and no one had touched. Only she and Mary Kate knew the truth. She’d already looked up the time of the matinee in the previous night’s Echo while Mary Kate was bathing her eye in raw meat, and she was deadly serious.

  Cat pushed back her chair. It was back to loneliness and isolation for her. As she stood up, she realised with a guilty jolt that she’d been prepared to steal a man from his family in order to spare her that future, if only for one more day.

  Mary Kate phoned a cab from the house, and Eileen O’Keefe, Deidra, Cat and Michael walked down to the end of the drive.

  ‘If you come back to Liverpool again, Mr Malone, you will be very welcome,’ said Eileen.

  ‘Can I give you some money for her keep?’ asked Michael, looking embarrassed.

  Eileen reached out her hand and placed it on top of his. ‘No, you cannot,’ she said. ‘Her company and good humour are payment enough. Life has been a lot more interesting since Mary Kate arrived, isn’t that right, Deidra?’

  She and Deidra walked away, laughing, and Michael turned to face Cat.

  ‘Well, you are one woman I won’t allow to turn me down.’

  Hearing those words, Cat’s heart did a somersault beneath her ribs.

  Michael held out his wallet. ‘Here – you have no man behind you; life must be an awful struggle – take this.’ He extracted a wad of notes and held them out to Cat.

  She turned to the side, desperately trying to blink back her tears. Wanting the money for her family, needing to hold onto her self-respect even more. The words almost killed her as she spoke them. ‘No way. I don’t want your money.’ She half laughed as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, just about holding it together.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked. ‘Are you crying?’

  ‘No, God, it’s always the same in the summer when I’m out in the country. It’s the seeds, they get in my eyes or something.’

  Michael glanced down the tree-lined avenue. ‘You call this the country?’ He began to laugh.

  Cat looked embarrassed.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s just that in Tarabeg things are very different.’ He could see the offer of money had embarrassed her and closed his wallet, feeling like a fool.

  ‘Anyway,’ she said in a much perkier voice, ‘I thought all the Irish were as poor as church mice.’

  ‘Well now, many are, to be fair, but when you earn money, sure there’s nothing to spend it on, so most have enough and no one who has a good farm should ever go hungry. The famine taught the Irish that, if nothing else.’

  ‘Mary Kate will be here in a second,’ said Cat. ‘If it’s all right with you, I’ll go and catch the bus. There’s a stop at the end of the avenue. You two have some time on your own.’

  Michael made to object, but he did want some time alone with Mary Kate. ‘That’s good of you,’ he said. ‘Come here.’ He held out his arms and Cat willingly fell into them, for one last time.

  ‘Take care, you,’ she said into his jacket. Despite the dunking in the lake, she could smell things that were strange to her. Another woman’s kitchen, earth and the sea. As she took in a deep breath she inhaled the musky male smell of him that lurked underneath and committed it to memory.

  ‘It’s you that needs to take care. And don’t think you’ve seen the last of me – you haven’t,’ he said as he slipped his arms around her waist and almost lifted her off the ground.

  Forgetting where they were for a second, Cat lifted her face and placed her hand on his shoulders, and he kissed her. As she walked down the avenue with her head held high, she was aware of his eyes on her back and she was grateful that now her tears could fall freely.

  Mary Kate turned the front-door handle and was greeted by the sight of her father kissing Cat. Retracing her steps, she retreated inside and closed the door.

  Joan was polishing the hall table, rushing through her chores, ready to take the rest of the afternoon off. ‘Isn’t the taxi on its way?’ she asked.

  ‘Aye. I forgot my gloves – I think I left them in my coat at Mass.’

  ‘Did you?’ Joan looked up suspiciously as she tucked the duster into her belt. ‘Mary Kate, I still don’t know what’s going on. You’ve told me nothing. Aren’t I the one who should know above everyone else?’ She picked up one of Jack’s toy soldiers from the floor. ‘Oh God, would you look at that. He must have been trying to take it with him.’ Tears stuck in her throat as she slipped the toy soldier into her pocket. ‘Dr Marcus has to chase after those boys and bring them back here,’ she said. ‘I can’t bear to think of them where they aren’t looked after properly and that woman doesn’t have a notion what to do.’

  Mary Kate could hear the sound of the bus pulling away. ‘I’ll go and see Da off. You watch your film and let’s talk later.’ She stepped back outside to see her father standing by himself in the driveway, staring after the bus, oblivious to her approaching footsteps.

  *

  The corner table next to the window in the Pier Head café was free and Mary Kate filled her lungs with the sea air as the seagulls screeched and swooped overhead. It reminded her of Dublin and the day she’d left Ireland.

  ‘When do you think you’ll be home?’ asked Michael.

  They’d bought his ticket and had
almost an hour to wait before the next sailing.

  ‘I have no idea, Da. What is it you want me to come home for? There’s nothing for me.’

  ‘That’s not true. Rosie tells me that Declan is sweet on you.’

  Mary Kate put her hands to her forehead. ‘Da, Declan is a lovely man, but I’ve known him since I was a child and if I marry him, I just carry on the pattern of life in Tarabeg. It’s not like that any more. Things are changing, you know. Women go to university and have opinions now and everything.’

  Michael grinned. ‘Not being one of that sort has never stopped you having an opinion, Mary Kate. Look…’ He swivelled the saucer in front of him around and around. ‘Just be a good girl. Remember your catechisms, go to Mass every day and confession as often as you have to. Say your prayers every night. And listen to Mrs O’Keefe – she’s a good woman. She may not be Irish, but she was married to an Irishman for long enough. Don’t eat too many of the pick ’n’ mix in that shop called Woolworths because Mrs Doyle has heard about one girl who came over who was addicted to them and all her teeth fell out in a year. But most of all, Mary Kate, honour your chastity. Keep yourself pure for when you do come home to marry. And let’s hope Declan it is, when you finally get fed up of cleaning other people’s dirt and come home to Tarabeg.’

  Mary Kate placed her cup in her saucer and looked him square in the eye. ‘Da, I will be as good and honest and true as you are yourself, I promise you that.’

  *

  Cat hopped onto the bus and walked down the aisle to the back seat. She knew she had some change in her purse. She felt stupid and angry at her own pride. She had no food in the house and would have to borrow a halfpenny from each of her neighbours to get enough money together to buy some potatoes and maybe half a sausage for each of the kids. If Linda was making gravy, she would send a bit round in a jug with one of her kids to pour on top. There wouldn’t be enough for her as well, but she could manage on a bit of toast. Haven’t I had enough practice, she thought.