by Holly Green
‘Never mind that,’ Richard said. ‘Angelina is my daughter. We know that she is not the child of your dead brother, as you claim. You never had a brother. You found Angelina in the workhouse and adopted her, and ever since you have been afraid that someone will find out that she is a doorstep baby. That’s why you sent her away.’
‘This is a farrago of lies,’ McBride said, forcing a laugh. ‘You must be mad. Get out of my house.’
‘Not until you give me my daughter.’
‘If you are under the illusion that we found Angelina in the workhouse, how do you imagine that she got there?’
‘Because I left her there. It was an act of desperation which I have always regretted and I am determined to put right.’
‘My dear sir –’ McBride’s voice had taken on a sarcastic tone ‘– if you abandoned your daughter, you have no further rights over her. Even if Angelina was taken from the workhouse, which she was not, you have no right to burst in here demanding to have her back.’
Richard’s voice lost its aggressive self-confidence. ‘What you say has some truth in it. If I thought that you had given her the sort of life I would wish for her, a life where she was cherished and cared for, I would leave her with you, however hard that might be for me. But it is not so. I know that she has not been happy here. I know that she was beaten, severely.’ He turned his eyes to Mrs McBride who had sat still, silently staring with wide eyes from one man to the other. ‘How could you do that to a helpless child?’
Marguerite McBride drew herself up. ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child. Have you never heard that before? She was a disobedient, wilful girl and she had to be taught a lesson.’
‘There are better ways of teaching,’ Richard said. ‘What you did was far beyond any acceptable punishment. You made her life such a misery that she preferred to run away and trust herself to the mercy of strangers rather than come back to this house.’
‘This has gone far enough!’ McBride said. ‘You have no reason to believe that our daughter is the child you abandoned. You had better leave before I call some of my men to throw you out.’
‘She was taken from the workhouse, and she is my daughter.’
‘Prove it!’
Up in the nursery, Angelina sat shivering on her bed, straining her ears for the sound of approaching footsteps. The lavender silk dress in which she had been taken from the theatre had been torn off her by Marguerite as soon as she reached the room and she was left in her chemise and stockings.
‘Hussy!’ her adoptive mother had screamed at her. ‘Look at you! With your face painted like a whore! Get that cleaned off, while I decide what to do with you. You’re going to suffer for the trouble you’ve put us to.’
There was no lamp or candle, so the room was in darkness, but then, to her despair, she saw light appear under the door and heard movement. She scrambled off the bed and huddled in a corner of the room, whimpering with fear. The door opened and the lamp was held high, and then a familiar voice said, ‘Angelina? Come here, sweetheart. It’s me, Lizzie.’
‘Prove it!’ McBride reiterated.
At that moment the door opened and Lizzie entered, holding a tear-stained Angelina by the hand. Richard spun round and for a moment James thought his legs were going to give way underneath him.
‘Amy!’ His voice shook. ‘It is you! I’d know you anywhere.’ He dropped on his knees in front of her. ‘Darling, I’m your real papa. Do you remember me?’
Angelina shrank back against Lizzie’s skirt and gazed at him. The stage make-up, which she had not tried to remove, had run and her eyes were rimmed with black, making them larger and more appealing than ever.
Lizzie bent down to her. ‘Don’t be frightened. This man isn’t going to hurt you.’
‘That’s enough!’ McBride interrupted. ‘What are you doing here, miss? I gave you the sack months ago. How dare you come creeping in here?’
James spoke for the first time. ‘Angelina, what have you got there?’
The child looked at him and then down at what she had clutched in her free hand. ‘It’s Raggy,’ she whispered.
‘Richard,’ James said, ‘show Mr McBride the pictures.’
Richard straightened up and pulled out his pocket book. From it he extracted two sheets of paper, unfolded them and held them where McBride could see them. ‘This is a picture of our daughter drawn by my wife just before she died. You can see that in it, Amy – Angelina – is holding a rag doll identical to the one she is holding now. This one is a sketch drawn by May Lavender who looked after her in the workhouse. She also shows her holding the doll. Do you need any more proof?’
‘May Lavender?’ Mrs McBride said sharply. ‘That’s the chit of a girl, the milliner’s apprentice, who tried to say she recognised Angelina. She gave her that toy. It doesn’t prove a thing.’
‘May?’ Angelina spoke above a whisper for the first time. ‘Where is she? I want to see May.’
James turned to her. ‘May isn’t here now, Angelina. She had to go away, but she still remembers you. Do you remember her?’
‘I … I think so. She was kind to me.’
‘Can you remember where that was? Was it while you lived here?’
Angelina shook her head, her face puckered with the effort to remember. ‘No. I think it was somewhere else.’
He looked round at the McBrides. ‘Isn’t that enough for you? Why go on pretending? We all know the truth.’
‘Forgeries and lies,’ McBride blustered. ‘Get out!’
‘Is that what you want?’ Richard said. ‘Do you really want to read in tomorrow’s papers that the child you call your daughter was left on the doorstep of the workhouse. That you have treated her so brutally that she ran away? That you never had a brother, and that your name is not Connor McBride but Finn O’Connor, who was sent away from his village in disgrace and is known to have links with the Fenian movement?’
‘The papers will never print that. They know I should take an action for libel and I should win. You’ve shot your bolt, Mr Kean. If I were you I’d get out of here while you still can. I’m a dangerous man to cross, as you already know. You won’t get a second chance.’
Richard and James exchanged glances and Richard swooped down and gathered Angelina into his arms. ‘I’m going, but I’m taking my daughter with me.’
‘Just try it!’ McBride’s tone was scornful. ‘Look behind you.’
They swung round to find the doorway blocked by two hefty men carrying short clubs.
‘I rang for them while you were ranting on,’ McBride said. ‘I’m perfectly entitled to use force to eject unwanted visitors who threaten me and my family and try to kidnap my child.’
The silence that followed was broken by a sudden loud hammering on the front door and a moment later a whitefaced Jane rushed into the room.
‘Sir, it’s the police!’
The two thugs swung round, hastily concealing the clubs behind their backs. Into the room strode Inspector Vane, followed by three uniformed policemen.
‘Inspector! Thank God!’ James exclaimed.
Vane stopped short and stared round the room. ‘What the devil are you two doing here?’
‘We sent you a message, asking you to meet us here.’
‘You did? Well, never mind that. I’m here on different business.’ He moved to McBride. ‘Finn O’Connor, alias Connor McBride, I am arresting you on suspicion of smuggling arms, with the intention of supplying them to Her Majesty’s enemies, namely the Fenians.’
‘This is ridiculous!’ In spite of the bluster it was obvious that McBride was scared. ‘Where’s your proof?’
‘In the hold of the Rose of Tralee, which was about to set sail for Limerick, under police guard,’ Vane said. ‘Cuff him.’
Two policemen stepped forward and handcuffed McBride. James noticed that the two thugs had quietly slipped out of the door.
‘Inspector,’ Richard said, ‘I have proved to my own satisfaction that this little girl is my missin
g daughter. Is it acceptable to you for me to take her with me?’
‘It strikes me as the best solution, in the circumstances,’ Vane said.
‘We’ll be on our way, then,’ Richard said. ‘Come along, Amy darling, I’ll take care of you.’
She struggled in his arms. ‘No! I don’t know you! Let me go!’
James stepped in. ‘Perhaps if Lizzie came with us …?’
‘Will you?’ Richard asked. ‘She trusts you.’
‘Of course I will.’ Lizzie took Angelina from Richard’s arms. ‘Come upstairs, pet, and we’ll find you some clothes to put on. You can’t go anywhere dressed like that.’
She carried the little girl out of the room, leaving Richard looking distraught. James laid a hand on his arm. ‘It’s not surprising that she doesn’t know who to trust any more. She’ll come round when she gets to know you.’
‘Right!’ Vane said. ‘We’ll be on our way. Take him out and put him in the Black Maria.’
‘Stop!’ Mrs McBride was on her feet. ‘You cannot just leave me here alone. What is supposed to happen to me?’
‘That is for you to work out for yourself, madam,’ Vane responded. ‘Meanwhile, don’t go anywhere. We may have questions to ask you later.’
He followed McBride and his men out of the room.
Marguerite sank down on a chair and put her head in her hands. ‘What am I going to do? I shall be penniless.’
Richard looked at her, stony-faced. ‘I cannot give you any answer to that. Do you wish to see Angelina before I take her away?’
‘Angelina?’ She raised a bloodless face. ‘Oh, take her! Take her! I’ll be glad to be rid of the wretched child.’
Richard looked at James and in silence they left the room. In the hallway, Richard stopped suddenly. ‘I don’t know where I can take her. My lodgings are quite unsuitable. I only have the one room.’
James hesitated only a moment. ‘Come to my house. There’s plenty of room for both of you – and for Lizzie, too.’
‘Can we? I can’t think of a better solution. It’s ideal. Are you sure?’
‘Of course. Stay as long as you like. I’ll be glad of the company.’
Lizzie came downstairs, leading Angelina, who was wearing a simple blue dress. ‘It’s a bit too short,’ she said. ‘But it’s all I can find to fit her. She’s grown that much in the last few months.’
‘Never mind,’ Richard said. ‘We’ll get her something more suitable as soon as the shops open. Lizzie, we are going to stay with Mr Breckenridge for the time being. I was wondering – would you be prepared to stay, too, as Amy’s nursemaid?’
‘Me?’ Lizzie’s thin face took on a radiant smile. ‘Oh yes. I should like that very much.’ She looked down at the little girl. ‘Would you like that, Angel … oh, I suppose I’d better get used to calling you Amy now.’
Angelina looked up at Richard. ‘Is my name really Amy?’
‘Yes – well, that’s how you were christened. But you can go on being Angelina, if you would prefer it.’
She thought for a moment. ‘May used to call me Angel. I remember that now. But Amy is nice, too.’
‘It means “loved one”,’ Richard told her. ‘And we did love you, very much. One day I’ll try to explain to you why I had to leave you, but not tonight.’
‘But you are my real papa?’
‘Yes, darling, I am.’
‘Do I have a real mama, too?’
‘No, I’m sorry. Your mama died, a long time ago.’
‘Oh.’ She was quiet for a moment. ‘Never mind. It’s nice having a real papa. Shall we go now?’
‘Yes, let’s go.’ Richard held out his hand and Angelina let go of Lizzie’s and took it and they walked out of the house together.
The following afternoon, James and Richard sat together in the drawing room of James’s house. Through the window they could see Lizzie playing ball with the child James still thought of as Angelina. They had eaten an excellent Sunday luncheon and James had opened a bottle of the claret his father had left stored in the cellar, and there was a mood of relaxation after the emotional turmoil of the previous evening.
‘I still can’t get over the extraordinary story of how she came to be appearing in that music hall show,’ Richard said. ‘I mean, look at her now. I’m no expert but I should say she’s behaving just like any normal child. You would never think she had been through those incredible experiences.’
‘I can’t help wishing we had spotted that playbill a day or two earlier,’ James mused. ‘I should like to have seen her perform.’
‘It seems as though she was good at it,’ Richard said. ‘If there was a riot when she didn’t appear, people must have been given to expect something remarkable.’
‘Maybe you can get her to sing for us one day, when she’s a bit more settled,’ James suggested.
‘Yes, I should like that.’
Richard produced a cigar case and offered it, and there was a pause while they both lit up.
Then James said, ‘Have you though about future plans? Will you take Amy back to South Africa?’
‘I don’t know,’ Richard said slowly. ‘Having had a break from that job, I’m not sure I want to go back. I shall have fulfilled my contract, so I’m free to go elsewhere if I want to.’
‘Fresh fields and pastures new?’ James quoted and was instantly reminded of May.
‘Something like that.’
‘Do you know, Freshfields is the name May’s father gave to the property he bought in Australia?’
‘No, really? That’s a strange coincidence.’
‘How so?’
Richard did not answer immediately. Then he said, ‘Are your plans still the same?’
‘Oh yes. As soon as I’ve done my exams I shall be on the first boat.’
‘I was wondering … do you think May would like to see her little Angel again?’
‘I’m sure she’d love to.’ James put down his cigar. ‘You’re not thinking …?’
‘Well, why not? I know there are plenty of openings for a mining engineer in Australia, and I fancy a complete change. What do you think?’
‘I think it’s a wonderful idea! And May will be absolutely delighted.’
‘That’s settled, then.’ He put down his own cigar and held out his hand. ‘All we need now is for you to pass that exam.’
Later that evening, there was an incident, which disrupted the earlier tranquillity. Tea was over and Lizzie said that it was time for Angelina to go to bed.
‘I’m sure you’re right, Lizzie,’ Richard said. ‘You are much more experienced in these matters than I am.’ He held out his hand to Angelina. ‘Come and kiss me goodnight.’
She stepped back. Memories of horrible Mr George flooded her mind. ‘I don’t want to. I don’t kiss men. And I don’t want to go to bed!’
Richard looked puzzled and hurt, but Lizzie said gently, ‘Don’t worry, sir. She’ll come round to you after a bit. Come along, pet, bedtime.’
‘No!’ Angelina raised her voice. ‘I’m not going to bed! I’m a grown up girl. I don’t go to bed like a baby.’
‘Now then!’ Lizzie’s voice took on a harder note. ‘We’ll have none of that, if you please. It’s bedtime. Don’t argue.’
She tried to take hold of Angelina’s hand but the little girl sat down abruptly on the floor and refused to move.
‘I won’t! I won’t! You can’t make me!’
Richard stepped in.
‘Perhaps, as today is a rather special occasion, we might stretch a point? Another half hour? Would that be all right?’
Lizzie pursed her lips disapprovingly but she stepped back. ‘Will that be all right for you, Amy?’ Richard said. ‘In half an hour, you’ll go up to bed without any further argument?’
She hesitated, looking from him to Lizzie. Then she nodded, gracious in victory. ‘Yes, thank you, Papa.’
Later, when Lizzie came downstairs after putting a reluctant Angelina to bed, Richard sighed rue
fully.
‘I hope this is going to work out. I’m afraid my experience of fatherhood is very limited. Are we going to have more scenes like that?’
Lizzie smiled reassuringly. ‘I don’t think you need to worry, sir. It’s not surprising that she’s unsettled. She’s spent her life, as far as I can tell, being spoilt and indulged one minute and then punished the next. She’s always liked to get her own way, and I suppose while she’s been with these theatrical people she’s more or less been allowed to have it. So we can expect the occasional tantrum. But under it all she’s a sweet-natured child. She’ll come round after a bit.
Curled up in yet another strange bed, though a more comfortable one than any she had slept in for months, Angelina tried to make sense of the crowded events of the last two days.
She had not wanted to come to Liverpool when Finnegan had announced it, and she had tried to persuade him to change his mind and turn down the offer to perform there; but he had laughed at her and assured her that this was the best thing that could have happened.
She had explained that she was afraid of being recognised, but he had brushed her fears aside, telling her that there was no chance of that when she was made up and in costume.
During the day, all the time they were in the city, she had stayed inside, resolutely rejecting any suggestion that she might like to see the sights, and as the week went by she had begun to believe that Finnegan was right. Then, on the last night, as she was preparing to go on stage, she had heard shouting and before she had a chance to hide, her father – she corrected herself mentally … the man she had thought of as her father – was there, grabbing her in his arms and carrying her off. She had screamed and struggled and begged Finnegan and Ronan, who were nearby, to rescue her, but her abiding memory was of their stunned expressions as McBride carried her out of the stage door.
What had followed had been the most terrifying hours of her life. There had been the journey in the hansom cab with her wrist held in an iron grip and a voice that warned her in a harsh whisper, ‘One sound out of you and you’ll regret it!’ Then the arrival at the house, her mother dragging her upstairs, stripping her and calling her a whore, and the wait for the promised punishment. Then, suddenly, everything had changed again. Lizzie had appeared and taken her downstairs to meet this stranger who said he was her real father.
