‘Are you alone, Miss Dawson? Can we talk now? Please.’
He looked desperate for her to agree.
Her heart pounding, she said, ‘Not here. We can’t talk here. And not now. My father—’
‘Wouldn’t like it, I know. Your colleague told me. Can we go somewhere else?’
‘Where?’
‘We could get a cup of tea. There’s a café round the corner.’
‘No.’ Hannah knew if her father should pass by and see her inside a café there’d be ructions. ‘I have to go home.’ She was about to suggest he walk her home, but decided it wasn’t a good idea for him to find out where she lived. She couldn’t risk him turning up on the doorstep as he had done just now. ‘Perhaps tomorrow morning. We could go for a walk on the beach. It’s too dark now.’
‘My ship sails tomorrow morning. I have to be back on board tonight. Please.’
Curiosity about what he wanted to tell her, and a strong desire to spend time with him, fought against her sense of self-preservation. His expression was so sincere. But if her father were to catch them… He seemed to take her hesitation as a signal, as he said, ‘Please let me walk you home. Where do you live?’
Hannah battled with herself again then said, ‘Close by. Just north of here. In Bootle. You can walk with me part of the way.’
He held the door open for her and followed her outside. Hannah remembered Mr Busby’s instructions about locking up and hiding the key. She locked the door, made a rapid character judgement, and put the key under the fire bucket without trying to conceal what she was doing from him. Will Kidd showed no reaction. Anyway, what was there worth stealing in there? Mr Busby’s pencil sharpener?
They walked in silence for a few minutes. Hannah hoped he couldn’t hear her thumping heart. Conscious of the mounting tension between them, she started to speak, only for him to speak in the same moment. Hannah conceded, then immediately wished she hadn’t.
‘Why did you have your face covered up when I saw you the other day?’ he asked, his eyes full of concern.
‘It was cold.’ She knew she sounded unconvincing.
‘You’ve not been at work. I came several times. When I was in port. That man said you were ill with the flu. But it wasn’t the flu, was it?’
‘Why would I lie? I told you, my face was covered because I was cold.’
Will said nothing.
‘Look, Mr Kidd, I thought you wanted to talk about my aunt.’
‘I’d rather talk about you.’
She pulled up.
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. What would you like to know about Lizbeth?’
‘Why do you call her that?’
He gave a little laugh. ‘I always called her Lizbeth. My special name for her. It was something between just the two of us.’
‘My mother called her Lizzie.’
‘Lizzie? Really?’
Hannah couldn’t see his face clearly in the twilight, but she sensed he was smiling.
‘Tell me about her.’ she said. ‘What was she like? I was only small when she left, but I remember crying for days when she disappeared.’
‘I loved her.’ He quickly added, ‘I mean she was a wonderful woman. I was so happy that she was part of our family. She and I would talk for hours. About everything – the names of the stars, how she loved music – and I taught her the names of our Aussie birds.’ He became animated as he spoke about Elizabeth, and Hannah suppressed an unexpected twinge of what she realised must be jealousy. She longed for someone to speak about her in that way – no, more than that – she wished Will Kidd were speaking about her.
Telling herself not to be foolish she asked, ‘Did she love your father?’
Will Kidd stopped walking. ‘No. She didn’t. How could she?’ His tone was surprisingly aggressive.
‘I don’t know. I don’t know anything. How could I? I was only a small child when she went away. It was very sudden. My parents would never speak of her. I was hoping you were going to tell me about her.’ She spun round. ‘I think you should go now.’ She felt the prick of tears behind her eyes.
Will took her arm and looked stricken. ‘Please. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just…’ He drew her under the light of a lamppost and looked at her, his eyes were full of sincerity and – if she were to describe them – sorrow. ‘Please. We need to have a proper time to meet and talk. Not like this, walking along, in a hurry. I want to get to know you.’
Hannah looked up at him, at his face that was such a nice face, a face that she wanted to keep looking at. She felt the blood rushing through her veins and hoped in the half-light that he wouldn’t notice she was blushing. Before she could help herself, she said, ‘I want to get to know you too.’
He clenched his fists in a gesture of triumph.
‘I get back from Ireland in three days’ time. Can you meet me on Friday? Somewhere we can talk without being interrupted?’
Excited and exhilarated, she tried to make herself sound disinterested. ‘It will have to be in the morning. I have to work on Friday afternoons.’
‘That’s fine. On the shore at Crosby – where I saw you the other day. Ten o’clock all right?’
Hannah nodded. ‘You’d better go now. And promise you won’t try to follow me.’
He put his hand over his heart and said, ‘Sailor’s honour.’
As she hurried towards home, she felt a thrill of anticipation. She was going to find out about her aunt at last. But it was more than that. She had to acknowledge that it was mostly at the prospect of seeing Mr Kidd again.
Neither Hannah nor Judith knew any men apart from those their father vetted – and there were few of them and they were all much older men like Mr Busby or Mr Henderson, the pastor from their father’s chapel, who occasionally called on him at home. None of the Dawson women were permitted to attend the chapel with their father. Their religious observation was entirely supervised by Dawson and consisted of them reading the scriptures and learning chunks of it to recite back to him. It was as if Charles Dawson believed women were unworthy to bear witness to God directly – everything had to be channelled through him. So Hannah’s knowledge of men was limited to men she passed in the street or saw working on the docks – always at a distance and never in direct conversation. When they’d moved to Bootle from Northport, the boy next door had tried to engage her in conversation over the back wall, but her father put a stop to that. As the neighbour was a pimple-faced youth whose conversational skills didn’t appear to extend beyond the weather, Hannah did not feel this was any great loss. None of these brief encounters had made her eager to explore male company further. But Mr Will Kidd was different and the way she felt drawn towards him was a strangely disturbing experience for her. The prospect of seeing him again and having time to talk properly with him was one that filled her with a mixture of excitement and dread. What could she possibly have to say that would interest him?
* * *
Will headed to the Baltic pub, where he thought it likely he’d find his new friend, Eddie. The public house was crowded with men swilling pints and the buzz of voices and laughter carried outside. He pushed open the door to the Public Bar and immediately saw Eddie, standing apart from the throng, a pint glass in his hand.
‘I was wondering when I was going to see you again, Willie lad. Did ye see my folks when you were over in Dublin?’
‘Not this time. It was a fast turnaround.’
‘Pity. Now, I’d be after buying you a beer, but I’m a bit skint at the moment.’
Will concluded he was unlikely to see the return of the cash he’d lent him.
‘Only I had a horse that was a sure-fire bet and the little bugger tripped at the last fence just as I was sure I’d be retiring on the profits!’ Eddie chuckled and took a swig of beer, draining the glass. ‘I don’t suppose…’
Will caught the eye of the barmaid. ‘Two pints of mild.’
‘Ah, you’re a good lad, Willie boy.’
‘Do us a favour, mate, the name’s Will. Less of the Willie if you don’t mind.’
‘No offence. Will it is.’
They took their drinks and retreated to a table in the corner away from the crush around the bar.
‘So, you’re fond of the horses are you Eddie?’
‘Sure, I keep telling myself to give up the gee-gees as it’s a fool’s game. The only winner’s the bookie himself.’
‘No doubt about it. I thought you said you were saving to get married?’
‘I was so certain this nag was going to bring home the bacon I thought I’d be hurrying along the wedding fund.’
‘How much did you lose?’
‘I told you. I’m skint. Cleaned me out it did, the useless nag. Fit only for dog food and Belgians.’
‘When do you get paid again?’
‘Day after tomorrow.’
Will pulled a couple of half-crowns out of his pocket and passed them to Eddie. ‘Now, I don’t want to hear you’ve handed that to the bookie. It’s all I can spare and I’m gone tomorrow.’
‘Ah, you’re a good man, Will, you are. I’ll be paying you back every penny when I see you next.’
They supped their beers in silence for a few minutes. Eventually Will spoke. ‘I met this girl—’
‘That’s grand!’ Eddie clapped him on the back.
‘No. It’s not like that. We’re distantly related – through marriage. Her aunt married my father.’
‘Is she a looker?’
‘I told you, it’s not like that.’
‘Then what’s it about?’
‘Nothing really… I just think her father might be bashing her.’
‘Bashing her?’
‘Hitting her. Beating her. The other day she had her face almost completely covered when I bumped into her on the shore. She’d a scarf right up to her eyes.’
‘Well, there’s often a cold wind by the sea. Maybe you’re used to it, being a sailor and all, but for a lady. They feel the cold more.’
‘Perhaps.’ Will stared into his pint. ‘But I have a feeling there was something she was trying to hide. She didn’t want to stop and talk.’
Eddie gave a guffaw. ‘Can you blame her? Poor lass was probably scared stiff of a big lump like you. Maybe she thought you were going to carry her off and sell her into white slavery. Nice girls don’t talk to sailors.’
‘They’re even less likely to talk to dockers, mate.’ Will nudged his friend with his elbow. ‘Anyway, I told you. There’s a family connection.’
‘If she is getting beaten by her old man, there’s not much you can do about it.’ Eddie shrugged. ‘What goes on behind closed doors in a family is their concern.’
‘You think it’s all right for a man to bash a woman?’
‘No. Of course not. But there’s some wouldn’t agree with me. There’s many as think a husband has a right to discipline his wife if she steps out of line. And as for a father? Didn’t your da give you a clout every now and then?’
‘That’s different – we’re both men. And he only did it when I was a kid. Gave me a lick with his belt or his slipper. But he never touched my ma or my sister. It was my brother who was the violent one in our house.’ He drained his pint and got up to go to the bar. Why was he telling Eddie all this when he barely knew the man? He decided to change the subject.
Later that evening as he headed back to the Arklow, he was still thinking about Miss Dawson, increasingly sure that she had been hiding some kind of facial injury when they met on the beach. He barely knew her, and yet he felt an overwhelming desire to protect her from whoever had hurt her. Clenching his fists, he thought of her beautiful calm face and wanted to kill the man who had struck it.
Chapter Thirteen
The weather was fine when they sailed into Dublin again and Will decided to take advantage of the few hours he had free before they loaded up, by exploring the city. He wandered along the waterfront until he came to the O’Connell Bridge. To his right up the wide street was the General Post Office where the Easter Rising had taken place just over twenty years ago. Having no interest in politics and a limited education in history, he had not been aware of the Irish troubles – but Eddie O’Connor, horrified at his ignorance, had given him chapter and verse when they were in the pub. Eddie himself had missed the uprising as he’d been conscripted as a young lad into the British army and sent off to the Belgian front.
Will stood looking back up O’Connell Street, trying to imagine it wreathed in smoke and with the sound and smell of gunfire as the rebels fought it out with the British army. A rather maudlin Eddie had told him the stories of the men who were arrested for leading the uprising and almost immediately executed without trial. Not for the first time it occurred to Will that politics was a dangerous game. Maybe his ostrich-head-in-the-sand approach was the best way. He couldn’t imagine wanting to lay his own life on the line for a cause. But then, who better to do such a thing than a man like him – without family ties and encumbrances? Would he be prepared to step up and do his bit if asked to? Were all the murmurings of war just that – murmurings that would come to naught?
‘Penny for them.’ The voice was soft. Will spun round to find Bridget O’Connor looking up at him.
‘Miss O’Connor. A pleasure to see you.’
‘Where are you off to, Mr Kidd? Are you lost?’
‘I’m just having a walk. Thought I’d explore the place while I’ve an hour or so to spare.’
‘Would you like a guide?’ Her voice was hesitant but her smile was broad.
‘Wouldn’t I be taking you out of your way?’
‘Not at all. I’d be happy to show you around. I’m on my way back from Confession. I was heading over to the other side anyway.’ She jerked her head in the direction of the Liffey. ‘I usually take a walk myself and seeing you gives me an excuse not to hurry home, where Mammy will have a hundred chores for me and a hundred lectures to go with them.’ She gave him a little wink. ‘I’ll have to tell that in my next Confession.’
They fell into step together and crossed the bridge to the south side. She led him over to College Green, through the grounds of Trinity College and then past the National Library and eventually into St Stephen’s Green. They sat side by side on a bench beside one of the lakes, watching the ducks swimming, dappled by sunlight filtering through the trees.
‘Hard to imagine this place being a battleground,’ said Bridget at last. She told him how it had played a part in the Easter Rising. ‘One of the rebels fighting here was a woman, you know. Constance Markievicz. They said she shot a policeman. She was sentenced to death by the Brits – but they ended up letting her off as she was a woman.’ She gave a dry laugh. ‘I wonder if they’d do that today? Somehow I doubt it.’ She kicked her feet out in front of her.
Will didn’t know whether to agree with her or not – but she didn’t seem to expect an answer.
‘I’m sorry about the mammy trying to marry us off.’ Her face was in shadow but he sensed she was smiling. ‘I can promise you it’s a source of mortification to me. As I imagine it was to you too. But the mammy is a law unto herself.’
Will squirmed on the seat beside her. It felt ungallant to acknowledge that it was a relief not to be viewed as a serious matrimonial prospect, but to show disappointment would be as bad.
Bridget carried on. ‘I’m sure the boys have told you I have a vocation and I’m determined to follow it, no matter what my mother thinks.’
‘They did.’
‘Funny isn’t it. She’d be proud as punch if one of those boys decided to enter the priesthood – but it’s another thing altogether when it comes to me.’
‘I suppose you being the only daughter?’
‘Maybe.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘Now, let’s just relax and enjoy this beautiful spring day and treat each other as old friends. No barriers.’ She held a hand out for him to shake.
He took the proffered hand and felt at once a weight lift off his shoulders. Ther
e was something reassuring and comforting in Bridget O’Connor’s presence. He leaned back against the wooden bench and felt the warmth of the spring sunshine on his face. They remained a while in companionable silence, until eventually Will broke it.
‘Why is your mother so dead set against you becoming a nun?’
‘I don’t think she is, to be honest. I think it’s more that she wants to cling on to me. She knows I’ll never agree to getting married and she’ll have to let me go to God in the end, but she’s trying to put it off as long as possible.’
‘Why do you go along with it? Why not just tell her you’re going to enter a convent and be done with it?’
‘Grief’s a terrible thing, Mr Kidd. It gnaws at a person and eats them away. My poor old mammy hasn’t got over Daddy getting killed. It’s five years now, but I still sometimes wake in the night and find her lying in the bed beside me, eyes wide open staring at the ceiling. And that’s the trouble, you see. She puts on a happy face to the world and has never let herself give in to the tears – even during sleepless nights. It’s all bottled up inside her. A person can’t let all that pressure build up without finding an outlet for it and I’m terrified that one day she’ll stop functioning and have some kind of breakdown. So I’ve decided God wants me to stay with her right now.’ She pushed her hands deep into her coat pockets. ‘I pray that perhaps she might come to the convent with me. Give herself over to God too, but there’s no sign yet of that happening. Still I put my trust in Our Lady.’ She smiled at him. ‘You’re not a religious man yourself, then, Mr Kidd?’
Will shook his head. ’The only times I’ve set foot in a church were for my sister’s wedding and the funeral of my half-brother and sister – they died when they were small. Of the diphtheria.’
‘So, you’ve known grief too.’ She placed a hand on his arm.
Will shrugged. ‘It was a long time ago.’
‘Do you see your family often? It must be hard them being in Australia and you away at sea.’
‘I have no family now. They’re all dead. Ma, Pa, my sister, Harriet, and Pa’s two kids with his second wife.’
Storms Gather Between Us Page 13
