A Mother's Duty

by June Francis

  Teddy opened his eyes. ‘He’s nothing but a worry is our Ben but he probably hasn’t gone far.’ He stared into space and got to his feet slowly. ‘I’ve got a feeling he went past me when I was playing ollies in the gutter. I remember thinking those fat little legs looked familiar as they went down the road.’

  ‘Why didn’t you stop him?’ cried Kitty, even more worried as she tied her apron on. She seized Teddy by the shoulders and hustled him out of the door to the area. ‘Go and look for him. You too, Mick.’

  ‘Hang on, Ma! Let me get me coat,’ cried Teddy.

  ‘Where are we supposed to look?’ asked Mick, shrugging on an overcoat.

  Kitty stared at him, thinking with half a mind that his overcoat would not last another winter and perhaps she had been wrong in agreeing to him staying on at school another year. What was the use of a grammar school education when she needed him here? ‘Anywhere! Everywhere!’ She waved her arms about. ‘Use your common sense! You were his age once, weren’t you?’

  ‘Yeah! But I never did half the things he does,’ protested Mick.

  ‘I know that! Ju-just try and think like him,’ said Kitty and headed upstairs where she found Annie in the kitchen.

  ‘I see that big fella’s fixed the chair,’ said her cousin.

  ‘Yes, of course he has,’ said Kitty and realised that for a whole twenty minutes she had forgotten about the Scottie. ‘Where’ve you been? You haven’t seen Ben have you? Only he’s gone missing.’

  ‘I just slipped out on a message. Your Ben was here not half an hour ago mithering the life out of the big fella. Something about a monkey. He wasn’t going to take him with him, though. Didn’t want him from what I could make out.’

  Kitty stopped in her tracks. ‘Mr McLeod’s left?’

  ‘I’m sure he has.’

  Of course he has, thought Kitty. She had not seen sight nor sound of him as she searched for Ben. ‘I bet he’s followed him,’ she groaned and sank onto a chair. ‘I hope he doesn’t get lost in the dark.’

  ‘Perhaps the big fella’s noticed him,’ said Annie.

  ‘I hope so.’ She felt a bit brighter thinking that he had and rose to her feet again. ‘I wonder where he’s gone?’

  ‘I don’t doubt you’ll find out sooner or later,’ said Annie cryptically.

  Kitty was not so sure but hoped she would and that it would be sooner rather than later.

  Mick and Teddy returned half an hour or so later, empty-handed and famished. Kitty told them that Ben might be with the big Scottie.

  ‘You let that Scottie come here!’ exploded Teddy. ‘You must be mad! For all you know he might have been out to rob us and has kidnapped our Ben.’

  ‘Don’t be daft!’ said Mick, sprawling in a chair and yawning. ‘Our Ben would be more trouble than he’s worth.’

  ‘You just never know,’ said Teddy darkly, thrusting his hands in his pockets. ‘Everybody keeps saying these are hard times and some people would do anything for money.’

  Kitty disputed that. ‘Mr McLeod isn’t like that. He helped me get my money from Mr Potter.’

  The boys looked at her. ‘Why did he have to help you?’

  She told them. ‘It was a good job Mr McLeod was there. Otherwise I don’t know what I’d have done.’ She smiled at them. ‘You should have seen him ram Mr Potter’s hat down over his eyes. I could have cheered.’

  Teddy looked disgruntled but Mick said, ‘I suppose we should be grateful to him.’

  ‘Yes, you should,’ she retorted. ‘I don’t know where I’d have been without him.’

  There was a silence which Mick broke by saying, ‘So Potter wasn’t a magician after all. That figures. Most magicians would have shown off with at least one trick. He had nothing up his sleeve.’

  Teddy threw a cushion at his brother’s head. ‘What happened to the dummy?’ he asked.

  ‘In the yard. And don’t throw cushions. Let’s hope Ben’ll be back in time for supper. He must be starving.’

  But Ben was not back and Kitty was really worried by then. Perhaps he wasn’t with Mr McLeod after all. She put on her coat and told the boys to do the same.

  ‘But what about our supper?’ protested Teddy. ‘Couldn’t we eat first?’

  ‘I couldn’t eat at a time like this! You’ll just have to wait.’ She rammed on her hat and despite their groans the boys did as they were told.

  It was outside Mount Pleasant Post Office they met up with John. Ben was perched up on his shoulders with his arms clamped round his neck and his head drooping against his plaid bonnet.

  A rush of relief and anger surged through Kitty. ‘I’ve been worried sick,’ she cried. ‘Where on earth have you been?’

  Before John could speak Ben lifted his head and said, ‘I’ve had a luv’ly time. Me and the monkey collected piles of money for Little John.’

  ‘You’ve what!’ Kitty could scarcely believe her ears. There was her worrying all this time and this – this busker had been using Ben. She was disappointed in him. ‘How could you?’ she cried, gazing up at the man. ‘He’s only seven years old and you’ve had him begging in the streets. What will the neighbours think?’

  ‘Why should the neighbours think anything? They probably haven’t seen him,’ said John. ‘Calm down, woman! He did it off his own bat. I didn’t know he was there until it was too late. He’d been singing and dancing a fair treat for ages, so some woman said, but he kept out of sight behind me. You should keep a better watch on him if he’s prone to wander.’

  His words went home and guilt was now a lethal ingredient in the cocktail of her worry and anger. Her eyes blazed. ‘How dare you suggest I don’t look after my children properly! I went to meet him but I was late because of you.’

  ‘It was you that wanted me to go back to your place,’ said John.

  Ben interrupted them, ‘The girl in the pet shop said I’d melt their hearts and I did, didn’t I, Little John?’

  ‘The pet shop! Melt their hearts,’ gasped Kitty. ‘So it was suggested to you, you use my son and you’ve just said—’

  ‘I know what I said,’ said John, ‘and it’s true.’

  ‘So you say! How do I know you’re telling the truth? You could have deliberately exploited him! You might as well have sent him up a chimney!’

  ‘Don’t be daft, woman. There’s no comparison between singing and dancing and sweeping chimneys.’

  ‘It’s child labour and there’s a law against it! I’ll pay you for the jobs you’ve done and after that I don’t want to see you again.’ She turned on her heel and marched up the Mount. Over her shoulder she called, ‘And don’t you dare bring that monkey onto my premises!’

  ‘Phew!’ said Mick. ‘She’s in a real paddy.’

  ‘She was worried,’ snapped Teddy. ‘You know she’s always worrying about our Ben since Jimmy went.’

  John swore under his breath and hoisted Ben from his shoulders. He held Joey’s lead out to Mick. ‘You look after them both.’

  He loped in Kitty’s wake and caught up with her outside Mrs McKeon’s corset-making premises. He seized her arm and brought her to a halt. ‘You are one unreasonable woman,’ he yelled, exasperated. ‘Chimney sweeps! I’ve never heard the like. Didn’t you hear a word Ben said or see his face? The lad enjoyed himself! Doesn’t that mean anything to you after what you said about him missing your brother-in-law?’

  She realised guiltily that she had not given thought to how Ben had felt, but that still did not make her feel any better about her youngest son begging in the streets. ‘I’m not against him enjoying himself,’ she said stiffly, tilting back her head and staring up at John, ‘but doing what he did wasn’t what I had in mind. I’ve my reputation to think about.’

  ‘Your reputation comes before your son I suppose.’

  ‘That’s unfair! My reputation is my livelihood and if it got about what Ben had been doing, people might think I’m short of money.’

  ‘And would that matter?’

  ‘Of co
urse it would matter,’ she said, suddenly remembering where she was and lowering her voice. ‘I have to appear to be making a success of things with my mother and Jimmy gone – and Mr McLeod, I’d appreciate it if you could keep your voice down. I don’t want to be heard arguing in the street.’

  ‘It’s you that started this, Mrs Ryan,’ he hissed. ‘Shrieking at me like a seagull! You should be proud Ben’s got some initiative. He won’t sit and starve if he’s ever in a fix.’

  ‘I am proud of him,’ she whispered. ‘Anyway, why did you have to busk tonight when there was no need? I said I’d feed you and give you a roof over your head.’

  ‘I don’t want reforming, Mrs Ryan,’ he whispered back. ‘I like my life the way it is and I don’t want no woman chaining me to her apron strings.’

  Kitty gasped. ‘You’ve got a cheek suggesting such a thing! Winking at me and looking at me in such a way that – that …’

  ‘So it’s a sin now to look? You’re an attractive woman. I could kiss you right now instead of just looking at you but that would be a fool thing to do.’

  He had succeeded in taking her breath away and she found herself blushing like a young girl paid her first compliment. Her hand went to her hair where it curled in the nape of her neck. He had disarmed her and she knew that she would have liked him to kiss her. ‘You really think I’m attractive?’ she stammered.

  He smiled. ‘Even when you’re biting my head off – but don’t go thinking I enjoy you acting like a shrew.’

  ‘I’ll have you know normally I’m an even-tempered woman.’

  ‘Like when you throw fish.’

  ‘Some people would try the patience of a saint.’ Her tone was mild but she was feeling gloriously alive. ‘Now will you let go of my arm because you’re hurting me?’

  He released her. ‘So where do we go from here?’

  ‘I thought we were going to my hotel? You want paying, don’t you?’

  ‘A labourer is worthy of his hire,’ said John. ‘That’s from the Good Book so my granny taught me. But don’t make the mistake of thinking playing the fiddle isn’t labour, too. I practised damn hard to get that good.’

  ‘You are good,’ she said generously. ‘I’m sure you could play in a dance band.’

  He frowned. ‘There you go again trying to turn me respectable.’ He fell into step beside her. ‘I don’t want to play in a dance band.’

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked impulsively. Because surely there must be something more he wanted from life than busking in the streets.

  For a moment she thought he was going to tell her, then the warmth that had lingered in his eyes died. Without another word he walked on and his stride was so long she had no chance of keeping up with him.

  The boys came up to her. Ben was dragging his feet, scuffing the toes of his shoes as Mick and Teddy tried to keep him upright and control the monkey, whose lead had wrapped itself round Mick’s left leg. ‘I want Little John to stay,’ said Ben, his bottom lip quivering. ‘If he goes he’ll take Joey with him and I don’t think I’ll be able to find the shop with the white mice again.’

  She almost said, ‘I don’t think he wants to stay,’ but she did not trust her voice because for some reason she felt near to tears. She took Ben’s hand and they walked slowly up the Mount together.

  They found John sitting on the stairs with his hands looped between his knees, and Kitty came over all maternal as she looked at him. ‘You’re tired, Mr McLeod,’ she said softly.

  ‘It’s all that work you threw my way,’ he murmured with only the faintest of smiles.

  ‘You’ll sleep all the better for it.’ She hesitated. ‘Are you going to stay for supper?’

  He hesitated too before answering. ‘Herrings cooked the Scandinavian way?’

  ‘That’s what I said.’

  He rose to his feet and she felt an overwhelming gladness.

  She turned to the boys. ‘Ben, leave that lead alone. Mick, take that monkey downstairs. Teddy, get that scowl off your face and show Mr McLeod the way. I’ll be with you in ten minutes.’

  She did not stay to see her orders carried out but hurried into the kitchen. She sang softly as she placed the covered dish of fish and a tureen of potatoes taken from the oven onto a tray. After the barest of hesitations she got out a tumbler before going to a cupboard and standing on tiptoe. She could just about manage to reach the next to highest shelf standing on an upturned bucket and considered how someone tall in the kitchen would be an asset. She poured an inch of liquid into the tumbler and replaced the bottle. Then she diced some fruit into a dish before making a jug of cocoa.

  As she entered the front basement room she was aware of the two elder boys’ eyes upon her, but neither of them spoke and she was thankful for that. She glanced at John who was slumped in the rocking chair with his eyes closed and decided to leave him for the moment. First the monkey. She had noticed that despite the cat’s arched back and hissing protests, Ben was trying to persuade the monkey to sit in the cardboard box which was the cat’s bed. She placed the fruit on the hearth and immediately the monkey scampered towards the dish.

  She served the boys their meal before going over to the man in the rocking chair. His long legs were stretched towards the fire and she noticed there was a dirk thrust down a stocking. Did he walk where danger lay or was it purely for show? Her eyes reached up to his face and she noticed that his eyelashes gave the impression of having had their ends dipped in gold paint. Part of her wanted to leave him sleeping, to enjoy his rest, whilst another part wanted him awake and noticing her. She realised then what a mess her emotions were in. She glanced at the dinner table where she had dished out their supper and saw that the cat, having given the monkey’s plate a disdainful sniff was preparing to spring. ‘Scat, cat,’ she hissed. It hesitated but the temptation was too much and it sprang. ‘Mick, get that cat!’ she yelled.

  The Scotsman shot up in the chair. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute, dammit! I’ve only got one pair of hands!’ His eyes were wide open and immediately Kitty fell on her knees beside his chair. She had seen such fearful apprehension before. ‘It’s all right, Mr McLeod. The war’s over. You can relax. But if you want that dinner I promised, you best have it now or the cat’ll yowl the place down.’ She reached out with both her hands and covered his shaking ones. ‘It’s all right,’ she repeated. ‘I promise you. You’re safe with me.’

  It seemed a long moment before he appeared to recognise her and he freed a shaky breath. Even so there was still a haunted look about his face.

  ‘I’ve a drop of whiskey here if you’d like it?’ said Kitty calmly. ‘It’s Irish, though, not Scotch. I thought it might help keep out the cold.’

  He nodded and took the glass from her, downing it in one go. Then he rose and went over to the table and sat next to Ben who was eating with his fingers and drowsily watching the monkey.

  Kitty poured cocoa and made conversation as she began to eat. ‘Michael used to have a wee dram sometimes to help him sleep. His uncles who live in County Cork brought a bottle over every time they stayed for the Grand National.’

  John forked up a mouthful of fish, chewed, swallowed, and said huskily, ‘I’ve been to Ireland.’

  ‘When was that?’

  He hesitated and she thought he was not going to answer, but after a moment he said, ‘After the war. I went to see the mother of a soldier who’d died on me.’ He chewed with slow deliberation.

  ‘The Black and Tans would be in Ireland then,’ said Kitty, wanting to find out more.

  ‘Aye. It was a dirty fight they were involved in and the civil war which followed wasn’t much different.’

  ‘You stayed on in Ireland for that?’ She was surprised.

  ‘I was needed,’ he muttered. ‘Let that suffice.’

  Kitty fell silent because she knew a little more about him now and guessed it would be a mistake to force his confidence, even if she could. Who was he? What was he? She had a name but that told her only that
he was of Scots descent. He had fought in the war, had been to Ireland, had a sprinkling of relatives whom he didn’t have much to do with. Perhaps they were all ashamed of the life he led? But what had caused him to lead such a solitary life? Had it solely been the war? That moment back there when he had wakened, she had been reminded of Michael after the worst of his nightmares. Then she had had to hold his shaking body and soothe away his fears.

  Ben’s sleepy voice startled her into remembrance of her sons’ presence. ‘Can I go to bed now and take Joey with me, Ma?’

  She smiled at him tenderly, forgiving him for having worried her. He was still her baby after all. ‘Yes to bed. No to Joey. Mick, you take him up. Teddy, you can give me a hand in the kitchen. We’ll leave Mr McLeod to finish his dinner in peace.’

  She ushered them out, hoping when she returned the Scotsman could be persuaded to talk a little more about himself. But when she returned he had gone.

  Feeling disappointed and now too restless to go to bed despite her weariness, Kitty decided to do some paperwork. She hated paperwork. It was something her mother had always dealt with, although she had taught Kitty the rudiments of bookkeeping. She sat down at the table in the basement determined to do her accounts, but no sooner had she started than she felt an urge to weep. She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. What on earth was the matter with her? She could not now start weeping all over again for her mother. She had to cope! She gazed down at the accounts book and a tear splodged some figures. Quickly she blotted the spot and concentrated her mind not on that still figure in the coffin but on John McLeod. He had said she was attractive and had wanted to kiss her but perhaps it was all baloney. Why else had he just upped and left without saying goodnight?

  With an unsteady hand she picked up a pen. She was being stupid and all over a man who had told her he didn’t want to be tied down. Was that the kind of man she needed right now?

  She rose and went over to the sideboard set against a wall and took up the photograph. Michael looked handsome, smart and upright in the wedding photograph and she looked good too. She wore a cream crêpe de Chine suit and a large hat with overblown artificial roses round the brim. They both looked familiar but not like anyone she really knew well anymore. They were so young, untested, but soon to be put through the mill.