A Mother's Duty

by June Francis

  ‘I’ll stay as long as I’m needed.’

  ‘Who said you’re needed?’ The voice came from the doorway and their heads turned.

  Kitty did not know whether to feel angry or sad as she looked at Teddy who was standing in the doorway looking blatantly hostile. ‘I say he’s needed,’ she murmured. ‘So get that chip off your shoulder and behave yourself.’

  Teddy opened his mouth but she gave him a warning look and without another word he walked away. Mick glanced at her before following his brother.

  There was a silence and Kitty made a move towards the door.

  ‘You’re best leaving them,’ said John. ‘You’ve said what you feel. Best to give them time to think about it now.’

  She nodded, thinking she would have to fill him in on the Charley episode sooner or later. Maybe it would be best sooner. ‘Ben, you take Sarah upstairs and feed that mouse,’ she ordered. ‘And no messing about. I need to finish these pies and get on with things.’ She opened the door for them and ushered them out.

  She did not speak immediately after the children had left, but brushed the top of a pie with a mixture of egg and milk. Her hands were amazingly steady considering how pent up her nerves were. She jumped when John spoke.

  ‘How bad was it with Charley?’ He picked up the plane and removed some wood shavings from the blades. ‘I need to know what I’m being blamed for.’

  She remembered suddenly what Becky had said about him feeling responsible for the death of his wife and daughter. ‘Don’t get all guilty,’ she said. ‘Jimmy’s as much to blame as you are for what happened.’

  John’s gaze slid over her face. ‘Your brother-in-law? What’s he got to do with this?’ he said slowly.

  ‘Charley knew Jimmy. He’d obviously spoken about me and this place. Charley said about me being a woman alone and needing protection.’ She kept her voice light. ‘Myrtle Drury had sacked him and he saw me as a way of making easy money. It wasn’t as easy as he thought though because the boys and Annie came on the scene. I was frightened and angry but for me things could have been much worse. As it was I escaped with a scratch on my face and a few bruises.’

  ‘The boys?’

  ‘He didn’t harm them, thank God! It was Ben who insisted we involved you. And Mick fell in with that.’

  ‘Teddy?’

  ‘He wanted us to fetch the police. I didn’t want to.’

  He nodded. ‘So Daniel involved himself.’

  She smiled. ‘He frightened the life out of me and Annie, as if she hadn’t already suffered enou—’ The word tailed away and she moved to place the pies in one of the ovens. Her voice was muffled as she said, ‘Let’s forget about it for now. I have enough on my plate to think about at the moment.’

  There was silence and she heard his footsteps going towards the back door.

  ‘Could you give me a hand with this?’ he said.

  Relieved, she straightened up from the oven. ‘With what?’

  ‘Balance the door so I can screw it back on. Here, stand here.’

  She did as he asked and his body was at her back, his arm brushing her hair with every forceful movement of the screwdriver. She was aware of an overwhelming desire to lean against him, to relax, but her nerves were as overstretched as a drumskin. She shivered in the draught from the open doorway and closed her eyes, willing him to do something. She wanted to feel his body warming hers.

  ‘You can let go now.’

  Her pent-up emotions threatened to explode. ‘Is it OK now?’ Her voice was strained.

  He swung the door back and forth with no trouble. ‘Satisfied?’ There was an expression in his eyes that made her think he knew what he was doing by not touching her.

  She nodded. ‘A cup of tea?’

  ‘Thanks.’ He began to gather his tools together.

  As they sat drinking tea he told her about having been caught in a blizzard in Argyllshire. ‘I thought my last hour had come and then I thought of you.’ His tone was serious.

  Kitty froze with her cup halfway to her lips. ‘And did it help?’ she asked lightly.

  John rested his elbows on the table and gazed into her eyes. ‘What do you think? I’m here aren’t I?’

  There was a silence and again she waited for him to do something, but he made no move to touch her. She glanced at the clock and rose to take the casseroles out of one oven and the pies out of the next and determined to keep their relationship on a business-like footing. She wondered if she had dreamed him kissing her hand and that electric-like charge between them earlier. Perhaps she was reading more into what he said and did than there was. And yet before he had gone away he had kissed her. She was confused. ‘Have you ever waited on table?’ she asked.

  ‘The odd time in cafes. I’ve done all kinds of things to earn a crust. I’ve no black trousers, though.’

  She stared at him, not wanting him in the dining room wearing the faded corduroy trousers he had on. Then she remembered how he had appeared the first time she had seen him. ‘Wear your kilt and they’ll think they’re getting something extra for their money,’ she said positively. ‘Come on upstairs now and I’ll show you where you’re sleeping and you can change.’

  He followed her out of the room. ‘What about Annie? Have you told her I’ll be putting her out of her bedroom?’

  ‘She wants you to stay. She’ll fall in with whatever I say,’ Kitty said shortly. ‘Give it a week and most of our clientele will have left. It’s the National on Friday. Then you can have that room where you put the trunk.’

  ‘Are you going to tell me why Annie’s suffered enough?’

  She paused on the stairs and glanced round at him. She drew in a breath. ‘I’d rather not. But if you have to know – that swine ruined her.’

  His expression was suddenly steely and his eyes fixed on Kitty’s face. ‘And you want me to put her out of her room?’ His voice seemed to catch somewhere in his throat.

  ‘No!’ She caught her lower lip between her teeth and took a deep breath. ‘But I have to put you somewhere and she can sleep with me.’

  ‘Your bed’s going to be crowded with Sarah in there as well. I could sleep in the kitchen.’

  ‘On the tiled floor?’ She shook her head. ‘Annie won’t mind. She’ll feel safer with me, and even more so with you in the next room. As it is she’s slept with me a couple of times since it happened.’

  ‘Did he beat her, too?’ She nodded and the skin round his jaw tightened. ‘And he hurt you. I’d like to throttle him.’

  ‘I’d like him nibbled to death by crabs,’ she said lightly, ‘but that’s neither here nor there right now. We’ve meals to serve and I’d rather I never saw Charley again.’

  He stared at her but remained silent and she carried on upstairs, knowing that John would dearly like Charley to return.

  Kitty liked John in a kilt. She liked what she could see of his legs. There was strength in his legs. Poor Michael’s legs had been white and limp like forced celery but the Scotsman’s knees were muscular and, having been exposed to all kinds of weather, were the colour of fallen leaves in autumn. As she carried a tray into the dining room she imagined the chaos which would ensue if she gave in to temptation and fondled his knees.

  She was being daft. She knew that, but at the back of her mind now lurked the fear that if Charley did return then there would be a fight between him and John, and whilst the logical, sensible part of her mind felt sure John could look after himself (after all he had beaten Charley once before), another part of her mind told her Charley was mean and sneaky and would not fight fair. A knife in the back was a very real thing. She shook herself mentally. Daft! She really was imagining herself in one of those gangster movies. This was Britain not America. She tilted her chin and put on a smile for the customers.

  ‘Something tickled your sense of humour, good lady?’ asked Mr Jones. He had a mop of silver hair and baby-blue eyes and try as she might Kitty could not dislike him, but he reminded her of Annie. She wondered where
her cousin was because she had not seen her for the last hour.

  ‘Just something one of my sons said,’ she lied smoothly.

  ‘The youngest one’s a handful and no mistake,’ he said, chuckling.

  What had Ben been up to, she wondered, but did not probe. Instead she asked Mr Jones what his plans were for that evening and was told he was going to the Pavilion to see a variety show. She moved on to the next guest.

  ‘Who’s your new man and what happened to the other?’ asked Mrs Mahoney, rapping her stick on the floor. She was from the Irish Free State and booked in regularly for the horse racing at Aintree. ‘Family, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Jimmy’s gone to work in Rhyl,’ said Kitty. ‘How’s your family, Mrs Mahoney?’

  ‘Don’t change the subject, girlie!’ Her sharp eyes stared covertly at John. ‘Is he one of the family, too?’

  ‘Not exactly.’ Kitty glanced at the Scotsman who was serving at the next table. As if aware of her gaze he looked up and smiled before carrying on with what he was doing. Kitty’s responding smile lingered as she felt a moment of happiness.

  ‘Soon will be I shouldn’t wonder,’ grunted the old woman. ‘Strong looking fella. He’ll keep those boys of yours in order and no mistake.’

  Kitty made no comment, only smiling before hurrying into the kitchen to heat milk for the custard.

  John entered shortly after her, carrying a plate. ‘There’s a man complaining he doesn’t like onion. I was tempted to tell him he’s lucky to be able to afford to have a meal put in front of him but—’

  ‘You resisted.’

  He smiled. ‘I was diplomatic. I offered to remove the onion but he said he wanted something completely different. Insisted the onion contaminates the gravy.’

  ‘Ask him would he like an omelette. Got to keep the punters happy. Also is there anything else he doesn’t like? You can guarantee the complainers always have more than one thing they’ll complain about.’

  ‘I can believe it. He had that kind of face.’

  As John left the kitchen he almost collided with Annie on her way in. ‘Sorry,’ she said.

  ‘Think nothing of it,’ he murmured and walked on.

  Kitty glanced up. ‘Where’ve you been? I was worried. Your Mo and Barb have gone off and we’re all rushing round like maniacs!’ She stared at Annie. ‘You look awful! Putting up your hair like that makes your face look drawn. I mean the frock’s nice but – why are you wearing that frock? It’s one of your good ones, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes! I’m going out with Mr Jones,’ she said with a hint of defiance.

  Kitty could not believe it. ‘Why?’ she demanded. ‘He’s old enough to be your grandfather. Why?’ she repeated with a sense of helplessness.

  ‘If he’s old enough to be my grandfather then he’ll pop off the quicker if I marry him,’ said Annie defiantly.

  ‘Marry him! You’re never!’

  ‘I might.’

  Kitty shook her head and stirred the custard vigorously. ‘You’ve run daft. I know the feeling, sweetie. I’ve felt like that. Like your whole world is falling apart. But just stick with it and things’ll work out. Not like you wanted them to but something else’ll turn up.’

  ‘It’s easy for you to say,’ said Annie sniffily. ‘You’ve got the man you want here. I wanted Jimmy and I’ll never get him now. As well as that I’m feeling sick and me stomach and head aches.’

  ‘Then you shouldn’t be going out,’ retorted Kitty. ‘Get an apron on and do some work. I need seventeen bowls.’

  ‘But I’ve told Mr Jones I’ll go out with him,’ wailed Annie, now looking unsure of herself.

  ‘Just do some work here first, then go out with him – but keep him in his place. And by the way, you’re sleeping with me tonight. The big fella’s having your room.’

  ‘Is he now? Perhaps I should go home? Then perhaps I shouldn’t. Mam’ll want to know why.’ Annie looked torn by indecision.

  ‘Put your apron on,’ ordered Kitty. ‘You can sleep with me I said.’

  ‘Perhaps, it’s just as well I should,’ said Annie, her face brightening unexpectedly. ‘You never know.’ She flushed as she looked at Kitty, then put on an apron and got out the bowls without another word.

  ‘Thank God that’s over,’ said Kitty, pulling a chair up to the fire and resting her stockinged feet on the brass fender.

  ‘Am I having help cleaning the shoes in the morning? More guests mean extra work,’ said Teddy, looking at her. ‘It makes no difference to our Mick doing the fires.’

  John glanced up from a book of Grimm’s Fairy Tales which belonged to Sarah. She was sitting on his knee dressed for bed in a flower-sprigged nightdress and pink dressing gown, cuddling both a rag doll and a golliwog. ‘I’ll help you.’

  For a moment Teddy was lost for words, then he muttered, ‘I’d rather our Mick. You could do the fires.’

  ‘I’m no good with grates. Ask me to get a fire going in the open and I can manage it but I’m hopeless indoors. I’m good with boots.’ He wriggled his stockinged feet, seemingly unaware of a hole in both toes, and smiled blandly at Teddy before continuing with the story of Hansel and Gretel.

  Teddy glowered and half-opened his mouth, but before he could speak Kitty said, ‘That reminds me. I’ll have to get the sweep. I noticed some soot on the hearth in the Smoking Room. If more comes down it’ll make a heck of a mess.’

  ‘I’ll go and see him after school on Monday if you like?’ said Mick.

  ‘Can I go with you?’ asked Sarah sleepily.

  ‘No,’ said Mick shortly. ‘You’ll be back home by then.’

  ‘Can’t you go tomorrow?’

  ‘Sunday’s a day of rest.’

  ‘For some,’ murmured Kitty, yawning. She would have to take Sarah and Ben to bed soon. It must be well past the girl’s normal bedtime. She felt a moment’s guilt at having spent so little time with her. Then she thought of Annie. How was she getting on with Mr Jones? She glanced at the clock on the mantlepiece and wondered at Annie’s cryptic statement about the sleeping arrangements. Did her cousin really think John would come creeping into her bedroom with Sarah there? She smiled wryly and pictured it before letting her mind drift for a while. A cinder dropping in the grate roused her and she forced herself to her feet. ‘Sarah, Ben, time for bed. Mick, Teddy, could you put the kettles on and make the guests’ supper drinks?’

  The boys groaned, but they did as they were told. John closed the book and rose with Sarah in his arms. Kitty removed her feet from the fender and held out a hand to Ben. He protested for a moment but then went with her. She thought how nice this was and wished they could be one big happy family.

  ‘A nightcap?’ asked Kitty, and without waiting for John’s reply, she turned a bucket upside down and stood on it.

  ‘You shouldn’t be standing on that.’ He put away the last cup and came over to her.

  She turned with the bottle of whiskey in her hand. ‘I thought you might like a drink?’

  He lifted her down from the bucket but kept his hands on her waist. ‘OK. But just the one. I might sleep too heavy otherwise, and I have to be up early if I’m to keep up with Teddy.’

  ‘You’ll probably have to wake him. Why did you do it?’ She gave him a quizzical stare.

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Volunteer yourself! You won’t get round him that way.’

  He smiled, removed the bottle from her hand and placed it on the table before putting his arms round her from behind. She closed her eyes and leaned against him. At last it had happened. ‘I like cleaning boots, and shoes for that matter,’ he murmured against her hair. ‘Especially nice new ones. I’ve had boots fall apart on me and had to go barefoot. You get to appreciate a decent boot at a time like that.’

  ‘I’m sure you do.’ She was shocked to hear he had gone barefooted. ‘How far do you think you’ve walked in your life?’

  ‘Too far to reckon. I’d like to marry you, Kitty.’

  Her heart seemed to j
ump into her throat. ‘A bit sudden isn’t it?’ she said gruffly.

  ‘You need a man about the place.’

  ‘I know. But you and marriage. It means—’

  ‘I know what it means.’

  She could not think what to say. Her womanly instincts said marry him and be held like this more often. She imagined his being passionate with her in bed – thought of a baby daughter, of freezing winter nights and warming her cold feet on him. But did he love her? He hadn’t said so. He could be a wife beater for all she knew! He’d want to be the boss. She felt a moment’s panic. Her first marriage had not been like most normal arrangements because for most of the time she had ruled the roost. ‘I don’t know if it would be sensible,’ she said slowly.

  ‘Sensible!’ He laughed. ‘I thought I was being sensible.’ She turned in his arms and faced him. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘What don’t you know?’ He looked puzzled.

  ‘I don’t know if it’ll work!’ Her voice rose on the last word because now she remembered her sons. ‘What about the boys?’

  His lips twisted. ‘I haven’t forgotten them.’

  ‘But I had for a moment! Mick and Teddy aren’t going to like it.’

  They stared at each other and she felt suddenly desperate. She wanted to marry him.

  ‘Forget I mentioned it,’ he said, and lifted her off her feet and kissed her long and deep.

  When her feet eventually touched the ground again she went over to the table and unscrewed the top of the whiskey bottle. She put a couple of tots into two glasses and handed him one. To her own she added a dash of water, before downing it in one go and walking unsteadily out of the kitchen.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘We’ve got to do something,’ said Teddy, lifting his eyes from his scrutiny of the Grand National runners on the page of the Sporting Life which one of the guests had left behind. He rolled over on the floor and gazed up at the nicotine-stained ceiling whilst puffing on a cigarette.

  ‘Such as what?’ said Mick, gazing through the Smoking Room window and thinking their mother would have a fit if she could see Teddy.