Contents
Cover
About the Book
About the Author
Also by June Francis
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Acknowledgements
Read on for an extract from Mersey Girl
Copyright
A Mother’s Duty
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Version 1.0
Epub ISBN 9781473501348
www.randomhouse.co.uk
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Ebury Press, an imprint of Ebury Publishing
20 Vauxhall Bridge Road,
London SW1V 2SA
Ebury Press is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com
Copyright © June Francis, 1997
Extract from Mersey Girl © June Francis, 2017
June Francis has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
First published in 1997 as Somebody’s Girl by Judy Piatkus (Publishers) Ltd
This edition published in 2015 by Ebury Press
www.eburypublishing.co.uk
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 9780091956387
Dedicated to my sister Irene May Holmes
who was the first to say
‘Tell me a story.’
I’d like to thank Pets Bazaar in Breck Road for helping me with research. Having said that I wish to add that the persons and events in this book are imaginary.
‘What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice and all things nice,
That’s what little girls are made of.’
Katie Mcleod was aware of eyes watching her: almond-shaped ones and liquid brown in dark faces, as well as blue and grey in pale faces. This part of the city had long been multi-racial even before the cry had gone out to the Commonwealth that Britain needed more workers. Katie tried to hurry but could only take tiny steps, her hips swaying seductively, as she crossed the street which had once been the boundary between old Liverpool and the hunting park of Toxteth.
She reached the comparative safety of the pavement in Hope Street, on one side of which lay the old cemetery of St James’s. Her heartbeat slowed but she opted to walk on the other side where the four-storey houses of Gambier Terrace showed lights. At the far end of the terrace were the buildings of the Merchant Navy Welfare Board and clubs for seamen.
A car glided to a halt a few yards in front of her, and a woman who had been standing against a wall applying lipstick, clicked her compact shut and walked over to it. There was a murmur of voices then she slid into the car and it drove off.
Katie swayed on. She felt very alone now the woman had gone and tried to put on a spurt – only to collide with a man who stepped out of the shadows. Her heart jumped as he steadied her and said in a foreign accent, ‘I come with you and we have a good time?’
‘No, thanks!’ said Katie in alarm, freeing herself and smoothing the sleeve of her jumper.
‘I have money.’ He touched her hair. ‘Preety colour.’
‘Nice of you to say so but I’ve got to get home.’ She walked on but he fell into step beside her. She eyed him warily. A sickly scent clung to him, and when he smiled he reminded her of a minor villain in a black and white film. She turned the corner into Sandon Terrace but he was still sticking with her. ‘Will you go away?’ she repeated, turning on him. ‘You’re not my type.’
He frowned. ‘What do you mean? You play games with me?’ He grabbed her arm and she stamped on his foot. His expression turned ugly and he kicked her in the shins.
‘You pig!’ she gasped, incensed, and began struggling like a wild thing as he seized her other arm.
The roar of a car coming up the steep hill shattered the evening calm. It came to a halt with a squeal of brakes. The next moment the man was being dragged away from her and there was a flurry of fists as blows were exchanged before her attacker tore free and ran down the hill.
Her rescuer turned and said in a slightly breathless voice, ‘You’re forrit, Katie! Ma’s going to kill you!’
‘No, she won’t,’ drawled a woman’s voice from the car. ‘You all ruin that girl.’
Katie ignored this and took hold of her half-brother’s arm. ‘I think he thought I was one of them women … you know.’
‘Serves you right,’ said Ben Ryan, gazing down at her. ‘Look at the muck on your face, and that skirt’s too tight.’
‘You’re an old square, Ben.’ She scowled at him as she fingered her shin gingerly.
‘When you two are finished,’ interrupted that cool female voice again, ‘we’re supposed to be going for a drink.’
‘Coming, Sarah.’ Ben turned towards the car where she sat in the driving seat, tapping scarlet-tipped fingers on the steering wheel.
Katie pulled a face but allowed him to hustle her over to the car. She would rather walk than accept a lift from Ben’s girlfriend but knew he would yell blue murder if she even suggested it. Besides, her leg was hurting and Ma was going to have something to say about that!
Ben lifted her over the low door of the open-topped pre-war sports car and climbed in after her. Sarah nudged Katie in the ribs as she gave the car its head and it roared along Hope Street as if it had all the Keystone Cops after it. Katie looked at Ben and he winked.
She returned the wink and thought how nice-looking he was, with eyelashes she envied. His hair was dark gold and curled about his ears. He had Ma’s blue eyes and determined chin, was stocky in build but all muscle. He was thirty-two and could have married years ago but it seemed he had never met anyone who could quite match up to the wayward, quick-tempered, vivacious but lovely Sarah O’Neill, as the family still called her, despite her having married a Yank and been widowed.
The car screeched to a halt as it reached the crossroads by the Philharmonic Hall. Ben and Katie winced and exchanged looks. ‘Mick phoned after you went out,’ she said as they crossed Hardman Street.
‘He did?’ Ben frowned at the mention of his eldest brother who had been in the Royal Navy since the onset of the Second World War. Now, eighteen years on, he was coming home for good.
Sarah’s head turned. ‘When’s he arriving?’
‘Look where you’re going!’ yelled Ben as they narrowly missed hitting the pavement outside the Hope Hall cinema.
The car turned into Mount Pleasant where the Arcadia Hotel was situated and Sarah repeated her question.
‘Tomorrow,’ said Katie. ‘He’s quite old really is our Mick.’
‘Seven years older than me,’ said Ben.
‘Why d’you think he never got married?’
Ben paused and lit a cigarette. ‘Don’t ask me,’ he murmured. ‘He’s had enough girlfriends in his time.’
‘Never found the right one,’ said Sarah with an odd note in her voice, bringing the car abruptly to a halt. ‘Out, kid,’ she addressed Katie. ‘We’ve wasted enough time chasing after you.’
Katie stuck out her tongue at her, climbed over Ben and out of the car. She blew a kiss at him before limping across the pavement and into the hotel.
Kitty Mcleod, past sixty and starting to feel her years, flung the offending tight skirt into a corner of Katie’s bedroom and said, ‘You’ll unpick all those stitches, my girl! And I’ll think twice before letting you go out to that so-called friend of yours again!’
‘It’s not her fault!’ Katie sat on the bed with her bare legs stretched out in front of her. ‘It was me who wanted to do it, and I knew if I did it here you’d kick up a fuss.’
‘Too right I would!’
‘See what I mean? I’m going to be seventeen soon and it’s time you allowed me more freedom.’
‘I gave you your freedom this evening and look what happened – you got molested!’ Kitty shook her head and pressed the plaster down hard over the cut on the girl’s leg, not wanting to think what might have happened if Ben had not gone looking for her. All her dreams were wrapped up in this girl whom she loved passionately. She remembered Katie entering her life as if it were yesterday …
It had been May 1941 and the Luftwaffe had been hellbent on wiping Merseyside from the face of the earth. For seven nights running they had rained down destruction and on the last night Celia Mcdonald had turned up, heavily pregnant and in need of shelter. She had laboured through the night, convinced she was going to die, and begged Kitty to bring up her baby if it survived. But Celia had not died. Instead she named her daughter Katherine, after Kitty, and then disappeared.
After four sons it had seemed like a gift from heaven and Kitty had brought the girl up to believe she was Kitty’s own daughter. It had not always been easy, though only a few people knew the truth but Kitty still lived with the fear that one day Celia might return and claim her beloved girl.
She smiled down at Katie and slapped her leg lightly. ‘Into bed with you now.’
Katie pulled down the skirt of her nightgown and yawned. She really was very tired and her stomach still quivered when she thought about what might have happened if Ben had not come along. He had always been there to protect her for as long as she could remember. She snuggled beneath the bedcovers, thinking of the others. She imagined Mick coming up the Mount tomorrow; she remembered his previous homecomings had always been something to look forward to because he’d always brought her presents. There had been dolls in foreign costume, embroidered fans, a fringed shawl, a music box which tinkled a lullaby or a waltz with a ballerina figure turning on tiptoe. His last voyage had taken in all the far-flung corners of the Commonwealth and she was hoping for a boomerang but guessed she was in for a disappointment because this family never forgot she was a girl.
In fact, it was her being a girl that her brother Jack seemed to hate most. Her senior by seven years, when she was born he was in Ireland staying with the O’Neill family on their farm where his parents had sent him at the beginning of the war, so they had not set eyes on each other until the war ended. They shared the same birthday and she had been prepared to adore him. He was her full brother after all! They were Mcleods! Mick, Teddy and Ben were the sons of Kitty’s first husband Michael Ryan, who had died way back in the early thirties. She had not been able to understand it when Jack tore off her ribbons and hung her teddy bear by the neck from the light fitting in her room. He had taunted her, saying she was a spoilt baby and a rotten girl, and had nearly drowned her in Cornwallis Street baths. She had not split on him because she felt that would be sneaking, but one day she had come home barefoot because he had buried her shoes in the sand at New Brighton and she had been unable to find them. Ma and Pops had come down on him like a ton of bricks then and afterwards he seemed to hate her even more. When he was eighteen he left home for Edinburgh to study medicine. Since then she had seen little of him, but it still hurt that they had never been friends.
Teddy was the middle one of the Ryan brothers but she had never seen much of him because he had married before she was born and now lived in Oxford with his wife Jeannie, who was Pops’ daughter from his first marriage and so was Katie’s half-sister, and their two children. Relationships in the family could sound kind of complicated when trying to explain them to outsiders.
It was Ben who was her favourite and she hated the thought that one day Sarah might completely supplant her in his affections. For a moment she thought what she would like to do to Sarah, then drifted into sleep.
She was roused by the roar of a car engine and then a sudden stillness which was broken by Ben’s angry voice. ‘I tell you you’re kidding yourself if you think you can get our Mick to marry you!’
‘Will you keep your voice down?’ hissed Sarah. ‘I only said I was glad he was home.’
‘Among other things – like his having sailed round the world while I stayed in my own back yard. That he’s exciting while I’m a stick-in-the-mud.’
‘It’s true! I don’t know why you’re so offended by it. But it’s not as if I’m not fond of you. I want us still to be friends.’ Sarah’s whisper carried straight up through Katie’s open window.
‘Friends?’ sneered Ben. ‘Thanks a lot! I want to get married. It’s time I was married. I want me own place – and you’re the only girl I’ve ever loved.’
‘Shhh! That’s because I’m the only girl you’ve ever asked out.’
‘How do you know? You were missing for years. Anyway, it shows I’m faithful if that was true.’ Ben had lowered his voice now and Katie scrambled from beneath the bedcovers and knelt up at the window with her elbows on the sill to listen closely.
‘Oh, you don’t understand women at all,’ said Sarah in an exasperated voice.
‘I understand you! You need to be the centre of attraction because you’re the piggy in the middle in your family. Always jealous of Davy because he was a boy and resenting Siobhan because she was the baby and your dad fussed over her. Now you’re jealous of Katie.’
‘I am not!’ Sarah’s voice had risen again. ‘But you do spoil her.’
‘Well, that’s only natural in a family like ours.’
‘So you say. Anyway I don’t want to talk about her. We were talking about us and staying friends.’
There was a silence which Ben broke. ‘I suppose I’m not rich enough? But I’ve worked hard, Sal! I’ve got money.’ He sounded desperate.
‘It’s got nothing to do with money!’ Sarah’s voice was incensed. ‘I married Max, didn’t I, and we were broke half the time?’
‘You married him because you didn’t want your Siobhan beating you to the altar.’
Sarah gasped. ‘That’s a mean thing to say, Ben Ryan, and it’s not true! I don’t know why I go out with you when all you do is insult me. Just because I told you I’d written a few letters to your Mick and said I liked him, there’s no need …’
‘Letters is it now? I thought it was postcards?’ he said in a furious voice.
‘Well, it was letters. It was him who sent the postcards after Max was killed. Lovely ones with beaches and palm trees and sunshine. He wanted to cheer me up. He’s always taken notice of me. Even when I was a kid, he never ignored me but always said nice things. I think he fancied me.’
‘You’re mad,’ said Ben scornfully. ‘Celia was on the scene then.’
‘Well, she’s not now!’
‘It doesn’t mean she won’t turn up again one day.’ A scornful laugh escaped him. ‘Now that would put your nose out of joint!’
There was a brief silence before Sarah said in a muted voice, ‘Saying that shows how much you care about me. Once you wouldn’t have wanted me hurt. Once you were exciting and fun. We’d have a laugh and do mad things. You made a girl feel – feel – oh, you’ve never even made proper love to me! I’m going home, I’ve got a headache.’
‘But, Sarah, we did mad things because we were kids! We’re in our thirties now. We’re not young any more.’ There was that note of desperation in Ben’s voice again. ‘As for making proper love –’
‘We’re not ninety either!’ she interrupted. ‘Goodnight, Ben.’ There was the sound of a car door slamming and Katie dived back into bed again as the car roared down the Mount. She knew she should not have been listening, but then they should not have been arguing in the street. She expected to hear Ben’s footsteps on the stairs but heard nothing, not even his bedroom door opening and closing before she fell asleep again.
Katie was sitting on the area steps eating an ice cream. She wore a green gingham blouse tucked into a pair of blue dungarees, which had been shortened with giant tacking stitches to reveal fluorescent green socks and black ballerina slippers. Her shining reddish-brown hair had lost its green plastic slides so that now it hung like a rippling curtain, almost concealing her face from passers-by. In between bites of her ice cream she sang: ‘Not all the nice girls love a sailor. Not all the nice girls love a tar!’
‘Yes, they do,’ boomed a male voice. ‘And where did you get that thing you’re wearing? Does Ma know about it?’
Katie sprang to her feet. ‘Mick, Mick, Mick!’ She flung herself at him, causing him to drop his kitbag so he could catch her in mid-air. He was tall, dark-haired, bronzed, and despite being quite old in her estimation, still handsome. He also looked gratified by her welcome.
‘Hell, Katie girl, what’s Ma been feeding you on? There seems more of you.’
‘I’m older and taller!’ she said, sliding between his hands to the ground. ‘And I’m not a kid any more so don’t you forget it. I suppose I shouldn’t have flung myself at you like that,’ she added with a doubtful air.
‘Think nothing of it.’ He took up his kitbag again and there was a puzzled expression in his eyes as he gazed down at her. ‘You’re right! You’re a young lady and I’m trying to think who you remind me of.’ He slid an arm around her shoulders and continued to stare at her. Then he smiled. ‘I can hardly believe I’m home for good. No more having my day ruled by eight bells. No more dog watches or middle watches, or me fancying I can see a floating mine. No more flying fish or hot springs!’
‘No more white sands or blue lagoons,’ she interrupted in lyrical tones, recalling postcards received.
‘Aye,’ he sighed because it had been a grey day in England so far. ‘I’m home safe, just like that Spanish gypsy said I would be, years ago before the war. Now I’ve got to find meself a wife.’
Katie stared at him, thinking of what Ben had said, and muttered, ‘Not you, too! And what Spanish fortune teller?’
Mick’s brown eyes twinkled. ‘I’ve never told you that tale? The one I met at the Pierhead when I was but a youth. She promised there’d be four women in my life but the one I would marry would choose me. I take that to mean I won’t have any say in the matter. When it happens it’ll be – POW! Anyway, who else is getting married? Not you, I bet.’
‘Don’t be silly! Ma’s got my life mapped out for me. I’m to be mistress of all I survey!’ she said in mocking tones.
‘Ah, yes, the Arcadia. Us boys really were a disappointment to Ma there. I felt a bit guilty sometimes but your arrival made everything OK. She was in her element then. You were the answer to all her dreams: pink ribbons, pink frilly frocks and pink bonnets! Did anyone ever tell you she put Jack in a pink bonnet once? Pops wasn’t pleased about that, I can tell you, but he was more worried about Ma than anything because it was down to her having lost a baby girl that she acted that way.’
‘I never knew she lost a baby girl?’ Katie was astonished that Kitty had never told her. ‘How sad.’
‘She probably doesn’t like talking about it. Anyway she lavished a lot of love on us lot and the Arcadia.’
They both gazed up at the pink brick building with its tall windows and window-boxes filled with tulips and wallflowers.
‘I remember helping make them boxes,’ said Mick. ‘It was round about the time Ma got married, and Celia …’ He paused and his dark brows drew together. ‘Lord, where have all the years gone? There’s been a war, and people and places seem to have vanished off the face of the earth.’
‘They have,’ said Katie, adding, ‘Who’s Celia?’
‘No one you know, kid. Let’s go in.’
She led the way through the gate in the wrought-iron railings and down the area steps to the family living quarters in the basement, and as she did – wondered what changes Mick’s return would bring to their lives.
‘So what are you going to do with yourself now you’ve finished?’ said Pops, glancing up from polishing a boot.
‘Don’t be rushing him,’ said Kitty, smiling at her eldest son. ‘Give him time to take his bearings. I’m not getting any younger and I’d like him around for a while.’
‘You’re looking good,’ said Mick in mild tones. ‘Stuck at thirty-nine, like Bebe Daniels.’
‘Don’t give me that flannel. You’re thirty-nine!’ Kitty shook her head at him. ‘John and I would like to retire and hand over to Katie as soon as we can, but she’ll need someone older around who knows the ropes.’
Mick’s eyes went from the girl’s face to his mother. ‘I see you’re still trying to run our lives for us, Ma. You know I never wanted to be in the hotel business. As soon as I can I’m going to get my own place. I want to live a normal life, not one which has strangers coming and going all the time. Besides, I’ve another job in mind and I’ve already applied for it.’
‘I was relying on you,’ said his mother, looking hurt.
‘Well, you shouldn’t have. Anyway, what about Ben? It looks like he’s here for life.’
‘He’s thinking of getting married,’ said Pops, and winked at Katie.
She frowned. ‘I don’t need anyone to look after me. With decent staff, I’ll cope. You’ve taught me so much already and the business is in my blood. It was your mother’s before you and it’ll be mine after you, so stop worrying about me needing someone to look after me.’
‘OK, OK! Keep your hair on,’ said Kitty, half-laughing at the girl’s vehemence but wondering how it was that Mick could not look at Katie and see Celia and himself in her. How she loved the child, yet she wished she had some proof of Mick’s being her father so she could make him take responsibility for her. Mick and Celia had been childhood sweethearts but had fallen out only to meet up again during the war when he had been on leave. Unfortunately she had never said that Mick was Katie’s father but Celia had wanted her baby named Katherine and begged for Kitty to look after her child before she had disappeared, believing Mick’s ship had sunk without a trace in the Atlantic.
Whatever had happened to Celia? With Katie’s birthday looming Kitty always got herself into a tizz. She had intended telling Mick the truth in the beginning but what with the disruptions the blitz had caused and them spending a year in the house that had once belonged to John’s grandfather in Scotland, somehow he and Jack had remained ignorant. Ben knew because he had been too young to join the forces and had been living at home serving his apprenticeship as a bricklayer by building air raid shelters.
‘Who is it Ben’s thinking of marrying?’ asked Mick, rousing Kitty from her thoughts.
‘Sarah O’Neill! She’s been free the last few years. Remember I wrote and told you her husband was killed in Korea?’
‘Sarah!’ Mick could not hide his astonishment and it was several seconds before he added, ‘How would you say she is, Ma?’
‘Still very much the old Sarah.’ Kitty’s voice was as dry as autumn leaves.
‘“When she’s good, she’s very, very good, and when she’s bad she’s horrid,”’ said Mick softly.
‘That’s from a nursery rhyme,’ said Katie, thinking the horrible bit fitted Sarah perfectly.
He nodded. ‘Fancy our Ben and Sarah getting together! I can’t believe it.’
Katie thought she knew why he could not believe it but Pops raised his eyebrows and said, ‘Why not? They’re the same age and have known each other for years. I’d say he almost understands her.’
‘But can he handle her, Pop?’ said Mick earnestly. ‘You know what she was like even as a kid. A real little flirt! I remember …’ He stopped and wondered what use it would serve to relate how Ben had asked Sarah to marry him when he was seven years old and how she had turned him down flat, saying she preferred Mick because he was older and probably richer. The memory had made him smile once but not right now. He wondered what game she was playing.
Katie said, ‘You don’t fancy her yourself, do you?’
Mick stared at her. ‘I haven’t met her in years, Katie girl, so why should you think that?’
She could have told him but at that moment Ben came in. He looked drained and his expression did not lighten when he saw his brother sitting there. ‘So you’re home?’ he rasped.
‘Looks like it,’ said Mick, getting to his feet. ‘What’s wrong with your face? You look like you’ve lost a florin and found a farthin’!’
‘It’s more serious than that,’ said Ben. ‘But I’m not going to go into it now. I’m tired. I’m going straight to bed.’
‘Aren’t you having your dinner?’ said Kitty, going over to him. ‘You work too hard, son. What’s so serious?’
He flashed her a slight smile and eased his shoulders as if shifting an invisible weight. ‘Nothing for you to worry about, but I’m going to bed because I’m tired. I’ll see you in the morning.’ He half raised a hand before letting it drop and closing the door behind him.
No one spoke for several minutes, waiting for the sound of his footsteps to die away.
‘That wasn’t a very friendly welcome,’ murmured Mick. ‘Doesn’t my face fit any more? We used to be great mates years ago.’
Kitty exchanged looks with John. ‘What do you think? Have they had a row?’
Katie marvelled that they had not heard the quarrel but guessed they had been at the back of the hotel in the kitchen at the time. For a moment she was tempted to tell them about it but decided it might embarrass Mick, and besides there had been real pain in Ben’s eyes and this was surely a private matter. If he wanted things known it was up to him to tell Ma. She was a cow, was Sarah! thought Katie wrathfully.
‘You know how moody Sarah can be sometimes,’ said John. ‘They’ll sort it out. Probably a storm in a teacup.’
Mick said abruptly, ‘I’m tired myself. I think I’ll have an early night.’
Kitty, who was still looking at John, turned and smiled at him. ‘You do that, son. And you can tell us everything that’s been happening to you and your plans in the morning. Perhaps after you’ve been home for a bit, you’ll feel different about the ol’ Arcadia?’
‘Don’t depend on it, Ma,’ he drawled and left the kitchen.
Kitty sighed as she gazed at Katie. ‘Time you were in bed, too, love. Early start in the morning. There’s several new guests who’ll be signing in and Eileen’s expected.’
Eileen was her mother’s cousin’s daughter and lived in Kinsale on the west coast of Ireland where her parents, who had learnt the business at the Arcadia, now ran a hotel. The two girls had never met and Katie was looking forward to having her around, hoping that in the newcomer’s company she would be allowed more freedom than she was now.
She went upstairs and for a moment stood on the landing up in the attics, which were well away from the guests’ accommodation, with her ear pressed against the door of the room Ben shared with his brothers whenever they were home. She could hear movement but no voices. Perhaps one of them was in the bathroom? She knocked gently on the bathroom door but when there was no response, opened it and went inside, relieved that all was quiet on the bedroom front.
The room was tiny and had been wedged between hers and that occupied by Kitty and John when this part of the hotel had been rebuilt during the war. She looked at herself in the mirror and wished she looked more like her handsome half-brothers. How could Sarah possibly choose between them? Still, she was not going to think about her.
She gazed at her reflection and into eyes which were grey with just a hint of mauve ringed with a dark circle. She would have preferred them to be blue. Her face was a nice shape, though, being perfectly oval, but she hated her freckles. ‘The sun’s kisses’ were what Kitty called them when Katie moaned about nobody else in the family’s having them, but that didn’t make her feel any better. She wrinkled her nose, dabbed soap suds on her forehead, cheeks and chin, and wished for a peaches-and-cream complexion like the Lux toilet soap film stars.
Afterwards Katie went and stood on the landing again, listening for any sound of a quarrel, but all was quiet so she went into her bedroom.
She sat on the bed and began to give her hair a hundred strokes with the hairbrush, gazing out of the window as she did so at a couple of girls coming out of the YMCA building opposite. She remembered Ben telling her the Americans had taken it over during the war for their Red Cross headquarters. Pops had worked for the British branch and had often come home with doughnuts. Ma had filled them with apple and custard and apparently, according to Ben, Katie had loved them.
A couple came out of the building and she thought there must be a dance on. For a moment she wished she could have been one of those dancing away the evening to the latest rock and roll records: Elvis, Cliff or the Everly Brothers. Photographs of all four plastered her walls but it was Cliff she kissed every night before going to sleep because Katie had never had a boyfriend.
It was as she slipped between the sheets that she heard men’s voices. Immediately she was across the room and had the door ajar. ‘I’m not having it,’ she heard Ben say. ‘She’s my woman so you keep your smarmy face away from her!’
‘I haven’t been near her!’ laughed Mick. ‘I’ve been away for eighteen months, for God’s sake! If you haven’t been able to fix her interest in that time then you haven’t got it, kid!’
‘Don’t call me kid, old man!’ Ben’s voice was vehement. ‘You think you’ve only got to turn on the charm and the women’ll fall for you like nine pins.’
‘It has been known to happen – but you’ve got this all wrong, laddie.’
‘Don’t call me laddie either. You’re not Pops! Although you might think you can rule the roost now you’re home.’
‘Again you’ve got me wrong,’ said Mick, sounding weary. ‘I want to get away from this place as soon as I can. Find meself a little house and a nice little wife and settle down for life.’
‘As long as you don’t pick Sarah for the role. There’ll be trouble if you start making a play for her. I could tell her things about you …’
‘Is that a threat?’
‘Take it any which way you like, but keep away from her.’
‘It is a threat! Big mistake, Ben. I don’t like being told what to do. Especially by a kid brother whose nose I used to wipe.’
‘I suppose that’s a threat?’
‘Too right it is! If Sarah wants to play games, then, dear brother, I’m ready to play,’ said Mick softly. ‘Now shut your mouth or you’ll wake Katie and we don’t want her upset, do we?’
Katie crept back to bed and it was a while before she slept, she was so upset her brothers had fallen out – and all because of Sarah O’Neill.
But Katie had little time to be upset the next morning as she was rushed off her feet cooking and serving breakfast to the guests, with the help of Ruth and Jennifer, the part-time all-purpose maids. John attended to Reception while Kitty was down at the Pierhead meeting the Irish boat bringing Eileen on her first visit to Liverpool.
It was several hours before Katie had a chance to grab some breakfast herself and she was just wiping round her plate with a piece of fried bread when Mick sauntered in with a towel round his shoulders, naked except for a pair of pyjama bottoms. His hair was wet and he needed a shave. She stared at him open-mouthed, thinking she had been determined to be annoyed with him but now found it impossible. ‘Ma’ll have a fit if she sees you like that!’
‘I know.’ He yawned and scratched his head. ‘Any coffee going?’
‘Mick!’ She swallowed a laugh. ‘What about the guests? I don’t know how you dare …’
‘Don’t you, little sister? He who dares wins.’ Mick grinned. ‘Have you seen any sign of our Ben? He got up awfully early this morning.’
‘Good golly! I hope he hasn’t done anything stupid.’ Katie got up and spooned Nescafe into a cup.
Mick stared at her from narrowed eyes. ‘What do you know?’
‘Don’t ask.’ Katie bit her lip and added milk to the Nescafe. ‘Sarah turned him down the other night,’ she muttered. ‘And then I heard you arguing …’
‘Oh.’ Mick gazed up at the ceiling and the sticky flypaper that hung there. ‘It’s more likely he’s gone to work than thrown himself in the Mersey even on a Saturday, you know. Our Ben’s not one to give up.’
‘True.’ There was a relieved expression on her face. ‘Even so, if he was out that early, what’s he been doing?’
‘Probably walked the streets or went to the baths and had a swim. He’ll be back. Now how about cooking me some breakfast?’
‘The works?’ she asked, relieved that he could take Ben’s being missing so casually.
‘Aye! Black pudding, too, if you’ve got it. The lot!’ He’d picked up a morning paper and begun to read when the door opened and Sarah stood there.
Her face was pale and there were mauve shadows beneath her eyes. ‘Is Ben in?’
‘No, he’s not,’ said Katie coolly. ‘So if you don’t mind getting out of the way? We’ve work to do in this kitchen.’
‘Temper, temper,’ said Mick. ‘Hello, Sarah. You’re looking gorgeous.’
‘I’m glad to see you home, Mick.’ She sat down at the table. ‘Although you’re looking a bit like something the cat brought in this morning, if you don’t mind my saying so?’
‘Sarah, love, I’ve aged a hundred years since you last saw me.’
‘I didn’t mean you looked old,’ she stammered. ‘You’re only seven years older than me. I just meant –’
‘I know what you meant. I need a shave and to get dressed.’ He took one of her hands that rested on the table and lifted it to his lips. ‘Just let me drink my coffee in peace, have some breakfast, then give me an hour and I’ll be a new man.’
‘And then what?’ she said, her cheeks pink.
‘How about a spin in that motor of yours? That’s if it’s not going to fall apart on us.’
She hesitated. ‘That would be nice.’
‘Great!’ said Mick. ‘Katie girl, make Sarah a coffee and then leave us alone to talk.’
Katie was not going to do anything of the sort and was about to make cooking his breakfast her excuse when there were voices in the hall. The next moment Kitty entered the kitchen accompanied by a girl wearing a blue coat, navy tammy and flat black lace ups. The older woman stopped abruptly and her eyes went to Mick and Sarah, widening in an expression of pure horror. ‘You’re indecent! Go and get some clothes on, son, before the new guests arrive. I don’t know what Sarah and Eileen must think …’
‘I have been married,’ countered Sarah with a laugh.
‘That’s beside the point,’ said Kitty firmly, resting her hands on the back of a kitchen chair. ‘Upstairs with –’
‘I’m going.’ Mick had risen. He kissed his mother’s cheek and sauntered out, telling Katie over his shoulder to get on with cooking his breakfast.
There was silence and she was aware of a certain tension in the air, which wasn’t surprising considering Mick and Sarah had been holding hands when Kitty entered the kitchen. Katie glanced at Sarah who flashed her a saccharine-sweet smile. ‘Still making me that coffee, Katie, my sugar plum?’
‘If I were a sugar plum, I’d hope you’d choke on me,’ she retorted before turning her back. ‘Ma, are you having coffee? And does –?’
‘Eileen will. And, Katie, don’t speak to Sarah like that!’ Kitty softened the words with a smile, and putting an arm round the Irish girl, gently forced her further into the kitchen. ‘Say hello to each other.’
‘Hello,’ said Eileen in an expressionless voice.
‘Hello back!’ Katie thought the girl looked like she wouldn’t say boo to a goose. She had extremely pale skin, a thin nose, limpid blue eyes and very dark hair – a strand of which was wrapped round one finger which she promptly stuck in her mouth. GREAT! thought Katie. It doesn’t look like she’s going to be much fun. Even so she leaned forward and planted a featherlight kiss on the girl’s cheek. ‘It’s nice having you here. I’ll soon show you the ropes and we’ll have fun. Have you had anything to eat? Do you want some breakfast?’
‘Sure, and wouldn’t I like that! May I sit down, Aunt Kitty? My legs are threatening to go on me.’
‘Of course you can sit down. You must be tired after the overnight journey.’ Kitty bustled round Eileen and soon had her sitting in a chair. ‘You’ll have to excuse me, though, love. There’s guests due and I must get my coat off and relieve Mr Mcleod and see what the maids are doing. Katie’ll look after you.’
Kitty hurried out, remembering how Eileen’s grandmother had been the one to deliver Katie, and how her daughter Annie had worked with Celia here at the Arcadia; she hoped the two women had kept quiet about that. When women got together they talked about all sorts but she would just have to take a chance that Eileen’s grandmother had kept her mouth shut about Katie’s birth, and hope Eileen knew nothing about it.
Katie glanced at Sarah, whose cheekbones had a line of high colour running along them, and hoped she was feeling really guilt-ridden for having been caught holding the wrong brother’s hand. Sarah’s parents and Kitty and John had known each other for years and Katie had heard all about Sarah having treated the Arcadia like a second home as a child, but realised she didn’t want her treating it like that now or ever again. That she didn’t want her having Mick, never mind Ben. Katie wanted to get to know him better, not have Sarah waltzing off with him and breaking Ben’s heart. They were her menfolk, not Sarah’s, and she liked them making a fuss of her. She gave Sarah a hard stare and abruptly the older woman stood up.
‘Tell Mick I’ve gone to do some shopping. I’ll be back in an hour.’ She strolled out without another word.
Katie thought, Like hell I will! And turning to the range, put on the frying pan and reached for the bacon. She placed a few strips in the pan, forgetting Eileen was there. Instead she wondered whether to tell Ben about Sarah when he arrived home. Although come to think of it, maybe it would be best to say nothing and wait to see what happened when he discovered she had been out with Mick in that smoky chariot of hers. ‘“Oh, what a tangled web –”’ she murmured, only to be recalled to her surroundings when Eileen cleared her throat and asked did she plan on burning the bacon as the pan was smoking?
Mick came in and asked after Sarah, and with Eileen there Katie felt she had to tell him the truth. He went out saying a mate of his had telephoned. He worked for the Salvage Corps patrolling bonded warehouses where goods were stored before duty was paid on them. Hopefully Mick too would soon have a job with Her Majesty’s Customs and Excise.
Kitty was not pleased by the news when Katie told her but murmured that she supposed she had to accept that he had lived away too long not to make his own decisions. As for Ben … she decided, like Katie, that the least said to him about Sarah and Mick the better.
The days soon fell into their normal routine: of cooking, cleaning, shopping and informing the guests where to find bargains and what was going on in Liverpool. The Queen Mother was visiting the city soon and that pleased two American guests.
Eileen was placed in Katie’s charge and proved to be her constant shadow – something Katie was not too happy about. Eileen did not say much but somehow made her presence felt, and it was a gloomy presence. Katie was determined to escape the day before her birthday, as Ben and Mick had given her some money, and to leave the Irish girl in Ma’s capable hands.
Kitty finished putting the shopping away and glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. She had half an hour to find a place for herself and Eileen where they could see the Queen Mother. Her American guests had left half an hour ago to find a good spot to view the royal opening of the University’s new School of Medicine. Not for the first time Kitty wished Jack could have studied here in Liverpool. The Royal Institute of Medicine had been opened early in the last century but had possessed scant facilities for medical education and so the school had been transferred to the Royal Infirmary earlier this century, and there thousands of lives had been saved by a doctor called Ross who discovered it was the mosquito that transmitted malaria. The curing of tropical diseases was important in a port which sent ships and men all over the globe. In those days, money for research had come from the great families and merchant princes of the city; now it came from the state.
‘Have you finished there, Eileen?’ Kitty turned to the girl who had soda bread baking in the oven, made from her Irish aunt’s own special recipe.
‘Just a minute more.’ Eileen gazed at her from expressionless blue eyes. ‘Where is it now we’re going?’ she asked in her soft Irish brogue. ‘And why isn’t Katie coming with us?’
Why indeed? thought Kitty, but Katie had vanished half an hour ago and she had no idea where. ‘We’re going to see the Queen Mother. It’ll be something for you to write to your parents about.’ She smiled at the girl.
‘She’s not my Queen Mother,’ said Eileen firmly. ‘We’re a republic.’
‘I know that,’ said Kitty, realising not for the first time that the girl could speak up for herself when she felt strongly about something.
‘Will Mam want to know what she’s wearing?’ she asked, taking the bread from the oven.
‘It’ll help fill a page.’ Kitty went over and switched off the oven. ‘Come on now or we won’t see anything.’
But she could not hurry Eileen and it was ten minutes before they left the hotel. It was Wednesday but even so school children lined the pavements, despite the rain, and there were plenty of mothers with tots, and middle-aged men and women. Union Jacks fluttered in gnarled hands as well as small dimpled ones and there was a ripple of excited chatter as the news was passed along that the royal visitor was coming.
Kitty forced Eileen on until they reached a spot not far from the front of the new building and managed to drag her reluctant figure through a narrow gap in the waiting crowd, saying to those who protested that the girl had never seen royalty before and she was a visitor to the city. They were just in time. Hundreds of flags fluttered and a cheer went up as a black shiny limousine came into view. The matronly figure in cornflower blue waved graciously as she stepped out of the car and a dignitary held a large umbrella over her.
Kitty’s heart swelled with affection as the Queen Mother waved to the crowd again before going inside the building.
‘Is that it now?’ said Eileen, twitching her shoulders with a restless movement.
Kitty glanced down at her and thought she looked pale. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Don’t like crowds,’ she said, twisting a length of hair round one finger. ‘Can we go?’
Kitty took her arm and forced a way through but they had not gone far when the girl let out a shriek and collapsed on to the pavement. She went rigid, her eyes staring unseeing up at the sky. Kitty froze with shock. Then the girl began to thrash about, eyes rolling in her white face. Her breathing sounded terrible and for a moment Kitty thought she was going to die. She guessed the girl was having some kind of fit and remembered hearing there was a danger of the tongue being swallowed and the sufferer choking to death.
Trembling, she crouched on the pavement, aware that people were skirting round them. What to do? What to do? she thought frantically. What was it she had heard about spoons and them helping people to stop choking? But she didn’t have a spoon. What was she thinking about?
‘Can I help?’ said a voice.
Kitty glanced up with a relieved expression. ‘Please!’
The woman crouched beside her and turned Eileen on to her side. She dragged off a scarf and eased it under the girl’s head. ‘Hopefully she’ll be out of this in a minute.’ She glanced at Kitty. ‘Is this her first?’
‘I don’t know. Thanks for stopping.’
‘That’s OK.’ The woman’s clear grey eyes gazed into hers. ‘I’ve seen this happen before. It’s always frightening the first time.’
‘I was thinking I’d need a spoon to put under her tongue?’
The woman’s mouth curled into a smile. ‘Have you ever tried to do it?’
‘No.’
‘You could have your fingers bitten off.’ She glanced down at Eileen. ‘She’s coming out of it now. Give her some room.’
Kitty stood back as Eileen rolled over. Her face was ashen and her eyes dazed. Kitty hastened to reassure her: ‘You’re OK, love. You just had a funny turn. Can you sit up?’
Eileen did not move or speak.
‘It’ll take a bit,’ said the woman.
‘How long?’ said Kitty in a worried voice. ‘She’ll be soaked with this rain and could end up with pneumonia.’
The woman hesitated and then said, ‘Do you live far?’
‘Not very. On Mount Pleasant.’
‘I’ll give you a hand to get her home.’
‘Thanks!’ Kitty could not conceal her relief.
The woman, who looked to be somewhere in her thirties, helped hoist Eileen to her feet and they proceeded to half-carry her to the Arcadia.
John was in Reception reading a newspaper. He looked up as soon as they entered and hurried towards them. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Eileen’s had some kind of fit,’ gasped Kitty. ‘She’s wet, but if you carry her to her room, love, I’ll be up soon.’
‘Don’t you worry, I’ll see to her.’ He lifted Eileen in his strong arms and left the two women staring after him.
‘Poor kid,’ said the woman, easing her left arm. ‘But what a weight!’
Kitty’s expression was concerned. ‘I’m really grateful to you. You’ll have a cup of tea, won’t you? It’s the least I can do after all your help.’
The woman smiled. ‘I didn’t do much. Is she your granddaughter?’
Kitty shook her head. ‘My cousin’s girl. I was lucky you came along. I didn’t even know she took fits!’
‘That’s the way it goes sometimes. Some families are ashamed to talk about it.’
‘But Annie and I used to be so close … Anyway, let me take your coat.’
‘I can’t stay long,’ said the woman. ‘I’ve a train to catch.’
‘D’you live far?’
‘Southport. I’m Rita. Rita Turner.’
‘Kitty Mcleod, the owner of this establishment.’ She held out her hand and they shook firmly.
‘Lucky you,’ said Rita, smiling.
At the sight Kitty felt something similar to an electric shock. For some reason she was reminded of Celia but before she could reason why, Rita had walked over to study a picture. ‘That’s a nice flower print. Victorian, I should say.’
‘You’re right. It originally belonged to an employer of my mother’s.’ Kitty hurried after her guest. ‘Shall we go into the kitchen or would you rather the Smoking Room?’ Kitty’s voice sounded strained even in her own ears.
‘The kitchen’s fine,’ said Rita, facing her. ‘It’s the important place in a hotel, in my opinion. People love their stomachs.’
Kitty thought Rita looked quite different now but as she led the way into the kitchen her own heart was beating painfully against her ribs and she was hoping that Katie would not be there. To her relief the kitchen was empty. ‘Have a seat,’ she said.