by June Francis
His eyes ran over her slowly before he lifted them to the sky, fiddling away at something that sounded like an Hungarian Rhapsody. Kitty reminded herself that he had said he found her attractive. ‘You’re scared,’ she said.
The music stuttered to a halt and he frowned at her. ‘And you, Mrs Ryan, are too used to ruling the roost.’
His words silenced her for a moment. Was he saying she was a bossy woman? She did not like to think she was, but since her mother died she was the boss. It wasn’t an easy position to be in and she needed help. ‘I only want to give back,’ she said quietly. ‘Last night you said a labourer is worthy of his hire! It was out of the Good Book; so shouldn’t you take notice of what it says, Mr McLeod?’
He lowered his violin again. ‘If you remember my saying that, then perhaps you’ll remember I also said that I liked my life the way it is?’
‘On your honour, you really enjoy standing here in the freezing cold?’ There was a note of disbelief in her voice.
Their eyes met, held. ‘You’re one stubborn woman,’ he said and a heavy sigh escaped him. ‘That was a fine way of cooking fish you had, Mrs Ryan.’
‘Pardon?’ He had startled her.
‘You’re a good cook and I’m hungry.’
A slow smile curved her mouth. ‘Are you saying you want feeding?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I think that maybe you could drop in at my place about one o’clock?’
He nodded and she went on her way with a spring in her step, reassessing what she would cook for lunch.
When Kitty entered the kitchen it was to find Teddy spreading jam on bread. ‘You’ll spoil your lunch,’ she said, whipping the bread from under the knife and placing it in the enamel bread crock.
His face fell. ‘Ma, I’m starving with all that sea air down at the Pier Head.’
‘You’ll enjoy your lunch all the more then. And if you’re still hungry afterwards you can eat that buttie.’ She began to unpack the shopping as he went over to the sink. ‘Did you see Mick and Ben on your travels?’
‘Nope!’ Teddy glanced over his shoulder. ‘But I saw someone else we know.’
‘Who?’
‘Jimmy with Miss Drury. They were on the luggage boat and he was looking real pleased with himself. He looked good all dressed up to the nines in a camel overcoat and a trilby. He was leaning against this real wizard open roadster, all cream and chrome.’
Kitty hesitated. ‘Did you happen to notice if Myrtle was wearing a wedding ring?’
Teddy’s brows creased in thought. ‘She wore gloves. I remember because she had her hand on Jimmy’s arm and the sleeve of her coat was trimmed with black fur.’
‘Did Jimmy notice you?’
‘I don’t think so.’ He added wistfully, ‘I bet it’d be fun whizzing along the coast in that car.’
Kitty forced a smile. ‘Not at this time of year it wouldn’t. They’ll freeze to death.’
Teddy agreed with obvious reluctance. ‘In spring it would be good.’
‘Definitely.’ She smiled. ‘Perhaps one day, son.’
He came over to her. ‘Just think, Ma, once the tunnel’s finished there’ll be no need for the luggage boat and all those jams round the docks.’
‘No. It’ll be good – speed things up.’ She began to peel potatoes.
Teddy watched her. ‘Is Annie staying for lunch?’
‘You know she always goes home on a Saturday.’ Kitty added almost casually, ‘Mr McLeod is joining us.’
She heard the sharp intake of his breath. ‘What d’you want him here for?’ he demanded. ‘He’s not a bit like Dad or Jimmy.’
Those words surprised her. ‘Why should he be? Are you like our Mick?’
His ears reddened. ‘Our Mick belongs here! He fits in. The Scottie doesn’t. Besides we don’t need him. Me and our Mick can do any jobs that want doing.’
‘You’re both a great help to me and I wouldn’t be without you but you can’t do everything, son. Besides Mr McLeod isn’t coming to work. I’m paying him in food for work he’s already done. Now shift yourself and see to our fire – and while you’re down in the basement, set the table.’
Teddy went but with obvious ill-grace and Kitty prayed he would not get into a mood. She wanted the boys to get on with John McLeod and for him to like them. She knew that he already had a head start with Ben. She needed a man about the place and couldn’t see why the other two, given time and the will to do so, could not get on with John.
Mick and Ben arrived only minutes in advance of the one o’clock gun, which told the workers in Liverpool when that hour struck. John turned up as it went off with an enormous bang. There had been talk of getting rid of the gun but the powers in charge had changed their mind. She gazed at John with a quickening pulse and for several seconds neither of them spoke. Then he said shortly, ‘I’ll put Joey in the outhouse, shall I? He won’t be distracting Ben then. I’ve bought him fruit and nuts and he’ll busy himself eating.’
‘It sounds a good idea.’ Her breathing eased because what could be more sensible and down to earth than what he had just said. There was nothing lovey-dovey about it and yet there had been a definite something there between them. ‘Perhaps you’d like to wash your hands in the kitchen and follow us downstairs?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he drawled, saluted mockingly and went out.
She held her hands to hot cheeks a moment before hurrying downstairs with a tray.
‘It’s nothing exciting,’ she said once they were all seated round the table and she had begun dishing out crispy fried potatoes and buttered eggs.
‘It smells luv’ly,’ said Ben, sniffing his plate.
‘And looks good,’ said John.
‘It’s only boring ol’ egg and potatoes,’ muttered Teddy, resting an elbow on the table and taking up a fork in his right hand as Kitty approached him.
‘Then you won’t want any,’ said John. ‘I’d miss Teddy’s plate out, Mrs Ryan. I’m sure Joey would appreciate his share.’
Teddy looked alarmed. ‘I didn’t say I didn’t want any!’
‘Then show a bit of appreciation,’ said John laconically. ‘Your mother’s slaved over a hot stove to produce this meal.’
‘And there’s children in Liverpool hungry,’ put in Ben, nodding his head sagely. ‘We’re blessed, that’s what Annie says.’
‘We are that,’ said Kitty, nudging Teddy’s elbow off the table with her own and spooning out the minutest portion of potatoes for him. There were times when she felt positively guilt-ridden because they had full tummies but told herself her family going hungry wouldn’t help the poor and she gave where she could, supporting the Echo’s Goodfellow’s Appeal at Christmas.
Teddy sat up straight and stared at his plate in disgust and then at John with dislike before glancing up at his mother. ‘You keep telling me I’m a growing boy!’
‘You’ll have to say “pretty please” if you want any more.’ said Mick, grinning at him.
‘Don’t provoke him,’ murmured Kitty. ‘Just an ordinary please will do, Teddy.’
He glowered at her and she wondered why he had to be like this. She frowned at him.
‘Sorry, Ma. Please may I have some more?’ he muttered.
She dropped a kiss on his head and topped up his potatoes and egg before dishing out bacon and beans.
All were silent as they took the edge off their appetites but Kitty’s mind was working busily despite all that John had said about not wanting his life changed. She imagined what it might be like to have him sitting where he was every day, a very visible, authoritive figure to help mete out discipline when she wearied of making the effort to do so. She hoped her thoughts did not show in her face.
Plates were soon empty. ‘Cup of tea?’ She stood, resting her hand on the back of a chair.
‘You look tired,’ said John.
She straightened with a smile. ‘Only a bit.’ How could she tell him that she had not slept very well because he had
filled her dreams.
‘Milk, please,’ said Ben.
‘Is there any afters seeing as how we’ve got a guest?’ asked Teddy, managing to infuse a scowl into the question.
‘Marshmallows,’ said Kitty. ‘You can toast them and play Snakes and Ladders with Ben.’
‘What about you?’ said Teddy. ‘Aren’t you going to play? Or are you going to be doing something with him?’ He glanced in John’s direction.
Kitty frowned at her son. ‘I’ll be doing the washing up,’ she said with a toss of her head. ‘As for Mr McLeod, he may do as he wishes.’
‘I’ll dry for you, Mrs Ryan,’ murmured John, his expression uncompromising as he eyed Teddy. ‘Then I’ll be off.’
‘There’s no need for you to lift a finger,’ said Kitty briskly. ‘As Teddy said you’re here as a guest but if you’d like to come up to the kitchen and tell me something about your travels, I’d enjoy that.’
‘We went to the street market,’ said Ben before John could agree or disagree to Kitty’s suggestion. ‘We met Celia from the pet shop and she said her dad was in the war like ours and he was a doctor.’
‘She didn’t say that,’ said Mick, toying with a fork and wishing everything could be as it used to be when his gran was alive. ‘She said he was in the medical corps like Mr McLeod but not that her father was a doctor.’
Kitty glanced at John but his expression showed nothing about how he felt at having that bit of information from his past let slip. She turned to Ben. ‘So you found the pet shop without Mr McLeod’s help. Clever Ben.’
He dropped his eyes to his mug. ‘Mick wouldn’t let me buy a mouse. He said you wouldn’t like it but I think you would ’cos they’ve the twitchiest little noses and are cute.’
She ruffled his hair. ‘I’m sure they are but Mick’s right. Now drink your milk.’
Ben buried his face in the depths of his mug and drained it to the last drop before gasping, ‘Can I go and see Joey now?’ Before she could reply he had shot across the room and was out.
‘I’ll go with him,’ said Teddy and hurried in his wake.
‘Mick, go and watch them,’ said Kitty. ‘The monkey could bite. Don’t let them tease it.’
Mick hesitated but Kitty said, ‘Go on, son.’
He went with obvious reluctance. There was a silence after he had gone which Kitty hastened to fill. She wanted to know more about this doctor business. ‘More tea?’
‘Thanks.’ John glanced across at her then hooded his eyes. ‘Before you ask, I’m not a doctor either.’
‘Who said I was going to ask?’
He smiled faintly and toyed with his fork. ‘My grandfather wanted me to be a doctor. I used to go on his rounds with him and got as far as starting my training in Edinburgh but the war came and I volunteered.’
‘Couldn’t you have finished your training afterwards?’
‘I had no money and Grandfather wouldn’t give me any.’
‘Had he before?’
‘Yes. But he was dead against my volunteering. He was a pacifist, you see.’
‘But you weren’t in a fighting unit,’ she said rapidly, ‘so surely—’
‘It made no difference!’ He threw down the fork and looked angry. ‘I went and married a Sassenach just like my father and that finished me completely in his eyes.’
She suffered a severe shock. ‘You’re married?’
He hesitated. ‘Was married. My wife died. But even that didn’t make Grandfather change his tune.’
‘That’s sad. Couldn’t your grandmother have done something?’
‘If she’d been alive – but she died when I was fourteen.’ He glanced across at her. ‘My grandparents brought me up from when I was seven. That was why it was so terrible when Grandfather wouldn’t support me.’
‘Your parents were both dead?’
He nodded. ‘My mother died when I was seven and my sister certainly didn’t want the responsibility of me. My father was still alive then but he was in the navy. He wrote to his mother who lived in Scotland asking could she look after me. It was a big shock I can tell you, going from the south of England to live on the west coast of Scotland.’
‘Poor little boy,’ she said softly.
His cheeks darkened. ‘No need to pity me. I was happy living there once I got used to it. Gran, although strict, took me to her bosom as they say. Her brother, my uncle Donald, was also good to me. He taught me woodwork and how to fish and play the fiddle. He told me company would always find me if I had music.’
‘You said he was still alive.’
‘Aye! It’s he who keeps me informed about Grandfather. They’re both in their nineties, don’t speak and are determined to outlive the other.’
‘Your grandfather must be a lonely, miserable old man.’
John’s mouth set. ‘Proud and stubborn more like.’
‘Probably that too,’ she murmured, eyeing him sympathetically. ‘You never thought of going to see him? The sight of you might have made him change his mind.’
There was the barest hesitation before he said, ‘Never!’ He drained his cup and rose to his feet.
He’s lying, thought Kitty. ‘Regret is a terrible thing to live with, Mr McLeod,’ she said before she could stop herself. ‘Time goes so quickly and your grandfather mightn’t live much longer.’
‘Forget it!’ His tone was harsh.
He’s been terribly hurt, thought Kitty, and he’s stubborn. She began to collect the crockery together. ‘You had no friends who would have lent you the money so you could have finished your training?’
He raised both eyebrows. ‘I would never ask friends for money. Especially when times are hard. Maybe if I’d have done as you said earlier, and gone to see Grandfather, then maybe …’ He shrugged. ‘It’s too late now. I’ve wasted my years.’
‘It’s never too late,’ she said.
There was a silence. ‘What about you?’ he said. ‘We’ve talked about me. What about you? I guess your life hasn’t been easy.’
She could have told him just how difficult it had been at times but all she said was, ‘I’ve coped.’
A slight smile lighted his face. ‘I can see that.’
She wanted to say, ‘But you can’t see everything.’ Instead she asked would he like another cup of tea. He shook his head, took the tray from her and went ahead of her upstairs. When she got up there he had gone and she wondered whether he felt that he had told her too much about himself and regretted it.
But he came again that evening. She fed him and they talked some more and she discovered he was staying with friends who were from Ireland and connected with shipping. He spoke of the places he had been and the poverty he had seen, of marching with the men from Jarrow, but not once did he say anything about staying or how he felt about her.
Then she did not see him for several days and thought that maybe he had left Liverpool because he did not consider or want their growing friendship to be of enough importance to him to inform her of his departure.
It was on a Friday he arrived on her doorstep with a potted white hyacinth in his hand, astonishing her utterly. ‘I thought you might like this.’ He handed it to her with a slight bow and a touch of embarrassment.
She did not know what to say. He had a rucksack slung over his shoulder and his violin case was strapped to it. The significance of which was not lost on her. ‘You’re leaving?’ She tried to make the words sound casual.
‘I’m going to Scotland.’
‘To see your grandfather?’
He shrugged, looking at a point somewhere six inches above her head.
She struggled against asking him outright would he be back. ‘How long will you be away?’
He gazed down at her. ‘It’s a long hike.’
‘You’re walking!’
‘I bought a new pair of boots. I’ve been breaking them in the last few days.’
Her eyes dropped to his brown boots and she turned the plant round between her hands, wondering
how long it would take him to walk to Scotland. She wanted to offer him the money for the train fare but guessed his pride would result in a refusal. ‘Have you time for a cup of tea?’
He followed her in and she placed the hyacinth on the kitchen table where its strong scent mingled with the smell of fried bacon and eggs. As she fiddled with cups and things there was a silence which she did not know how to break. She wanted to ask him not to go, but of course he was doing the right thing if he intended seeing his grandfather.
They sat at the table across from each other, drinking tea and eating buttered bread. She cleared her throat. ‘If he wants you to stay in Scotland, will you?’
‘I haven’t thought about it. I’ll have the whole journey to consider what to say and what he might demand.’
‘You think he’ll make demands?’
He raised his eyes and looked into her face. ‘If he gives me money he will. That’s his way, but he’s not going to last for ever. And then …’ His voice trailed off.
And then what? she thought. Would he come back to Liverpool? The city was a good place to study medicine. She remembered Dr Galloway from Rodney Street telling her that it had been the first place in the country to have a Medical Officer of Health – a Dr Duncan who had been a Scot. He had shocked the unsuspecting of Liverpool and the nation in the 1840s with his revelations of sickness and death in the working-class slums of the city. ‘Is it very important to you to be a doctor?’ she asked.
‘It was, but I’d almost stopped wanting it. Perhaps I’ve seen enough of suffering in my time?’ His greenish-brown eyes were opaque. ‘But there’s always research if I could make the grade. Although I don’t know if I could cope with studying at my age.’
‘How old are you?’
‘Thirty-nine.’
Too old to begin all over again? thought Kitty with relief but she said, ‘Doesn’t it depend on how much you want it?’
He smiled. ‘You’re right. And I won’t know that until I know whether it’s possible or not.’ He leaned across the table and brushed his lips against hers. ‘You’re good, Kitty. Thanks.’ He got to his feet and hoisted his rucksack onto his shoulder, gazing down at her with an unreadable expression in his eyes. ‘Don’t come to the door. I’ll see you when I see you.’
