A Daughter's Choice (9 page)

Celia asked herself that question over and over during the next few days, half expecting Ben to return to the Seaview, but as the days passed the waiting became unbearable and in the end she decided to take her courage in her hands and visit Liverpool. She felt thoroughly ashamed of herself now for sending that letter and wanted nothing more than to explain it away.

On her next afternoon off Celia put on her best frock, checked her seams were straight and brushed her hair neatly. As a booster she dabbed on some face powder and applied lipstick, a rare thing for her, and with her raincoat over her arm, set off to catch the train to Liverpool.

It was raining as she made her way across the city centre and now she was having second thoughts. Part of her hoped she might get away without being recognised but she knew she could not bank on that because surely once she started asking questions about Mick and Katherine, they would want to know why she was interested.

She came to the Arcadia and her stomach churned as she gazed up at the building. It looked different from when she had last seen it; then tarpaulin had covered the hole in the roof and the shattered windows had been boarded up. Now it was all cream and primrose-painted, and the brass doorknob and name plate gleamed beneath a splattering of raindrops. She peered down the area steps wondering which way to go in, then decided if the whole family were down there she did not want to face them en masse. It was Mick and Katherine she wanted to talk to, and them alone.

Moistening her lips Celia mounted the steps to the front entrance and went inside. It was a relief to be out of the rain and she dragged her wet scarf from her head and stuffed it in her raincoat pocket. A girl who looked to be about eighteen stared at her from behind the reception desk and for a moment Celia's heart seemed to stop beating inside her breast. Was this Katherine?

‘Can I help you?' said the girl.

Surely she wouldn't have an Irish accent? thought Celia. She cleared her throat. ‘I'm looking for Mick Ryan.'

‘I'm sorry, he's out.'

That was a blow and Celia could not hide her disappointment.

‘I could fetch his mother,' said the girl. ‘I'm sure she won't mind being disturbed. It's quiet here today. Otherwise she wouldn't be letting me do Reception. She's just having a rest.'

‘No, no. It – it's OK. Is – Mick well?'

‘He's fine. Haven't you seen him for a while?'

‘Not – not for a long time. Do you think he'll be gone long?'

‘Hours. He's got a day off and has gone to Rhyl with a friend.'

‘A friend? Wh-what kind of friend? Man or woman?' Celia's fingers gripped the reception desk.

‘Are you an old girlfriend of his?' The girl's eyes were bright with curiosity.

‘You – you could say that,' said Celia, her hands trembling. ‘I used to work here.'

‘What's your name?'

‘I – I don't know if that's any of your business!' Celia's nerves got the better of her. ‘Who are you anyway?'

‘I'm family. I'm Eileen, Annie's daughter. If you worked here, you'll remember my mam.' She leaned forward across the desk. ‘If you tell me who you are, I'll tell you who he's gone out with. You just might know her because her family's been friends with the Mcleods for years.'

Annie's daughter? Celia remembered Annie all right! They had worked together for a while. She made a decision. ‘I'm Celia Mcdonald. Is your mam living here again?'

Eileen stared at her and then her eyes gleamed with satisfaction. ‘You're Celia? Fancy that now! You're going to come as a surprise for some. See, my brain can work fine. I've heard of you.'

Celia's smile almost dazzled her. ‘I'm glad I haven't been completely forgotten.'

‘Not forgotten, but I haven't heard you mentioned either. Where've you been hiding yourself?'

Celia brushed the question aside. ‘Who's this woman Mick's out with?'

‘They all call her Sarah O'Neill still but she's a widow woman. Do you remember her?'

Remember her? Of course she did! Celia could hardly believe Mick was walking out with that spoilt little madam who'd had so much when she'd had so little. Fury surged through her like a foaming tide. Life was so unfair! The only person who had ever spoilt Celia was her gran, and she'd been dead for years. She felt like smashing something and her hands curled into fists. She jumped when the door to the basement steps opened.

A girl came through and smiled sympathetically when she saw her. ‘Still chucking it down? Poor you! You're soaked. Here, let me take your coat.'

‘Katie, she's not a guest,' said Eileen. ‘This is Celia. She wants to see your Mick. She knows him from years ago.'

Katie stared at the pale, raincoat-clad figure and recalled hearing the name before. Hadn't Ben mentioned a Celia in his quarrel with Sarah? Not a bit like she had imagined. ‘Mick's out,' she said slowly. ‘I'm sorry. Listen, why don't you go into the Smoking Room and warm yourself by the fire? You look like you need a cup of tea. I'll bring you one in and then I'll get Ma.'

‘Ma?' asked Celia.

‘My mother, Kitty Mcleod.'

Celia did not move but gazed and gazed at her with hungry eyes.

‘It's on the house,' Katie reassured her. ‘Perhaps you'd like me to show you where the Smoking Room is?'

Celia cleared her throat. ‘I know where it is. I knew the place well in the old days.'

‘Great! You just go in then. I know you were close to Mick so I'm sure he'll be glad to see you,' she called over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen.

‘Very close,' whispered Celia. The kitchen door closed and she thought, So that is my daughter. That glowing girl! And Kitty Mcleod and Mick have had years of her company while I've had nothing! Something snapped inside her. ‘Very, very, very close!' She slammed her handbag on the reception desk. ‘I thought he was dead but now I find he's alive and going out with bloody Sarah O'Neill! I could tear them apart!'

‘Hell!' exclaimed Eileen, staring at her in amazement and sudden fear. She scurried from behind Reception and ran to the door leading to the basement.

Katie popped her head out of the kitchen. ‘What was that you were saying?' Her friendly gaze rested on Celia's face.

Instantly she was ashamed and the anger drained from her, leaving her weak. ‘I thought he was dead,' she whispered. ‘I really thought he was dead. And you? Why do they call you Katie?'

Katie stared at her intently. ‘My real name's Katherine.'

‘Oh! So she did that at least.' Celia felt dazed and confused. ‘I'm glad about that.'

Katie was starting to feel a bit strange herself and decided they could both do with that cup of tea. She went over to Celia and put an arm round her. ‘You look all in. Come into the Smoking Room.'

Meekly, Celia went with her. Fortunately the room was empty and so Katie sat her down in front of the fire. ‘I don't want Mick marrying Sarah,' she said in a conspiratorial whisper. ‘I don't really want her marrying Ben, but he's potty about her and really hurt about the whole thing. Ma says it'll all work itself out but I don't see how, unless somebody does something. Now you're here, maybe
you
can do something? You do still care about Mick, don't you?'

Did she? thought Celia, feeling even more confused. Surely she must if she felt so jealous of Sarah? And it was true she had never forgotten him. She stared at her daughter and thought, You're so kind, so confident, so different from me.

‘Well!' said Katie, smiling encouragingly. ‘Tell me all about it.'

Celia did not know where to start but before she could say a word Kitty walked into the room. She was flushed and took up position immediately in front of Celia. ‘Eileen told me you were here. What have you been saying to Katie?' Her voice was calm but there was nothing calm about her eyes. They were as cold as the North Pole.

‘I haven't said anything,' stammered Celia, completely intimidated.

Katie glanced at Kitty and said, ‘She told me she thought Mick was dead. That's why she hasn't been round for years. You should make her welcome, Ma. I'm sure Mick'll be glad to see her.'

‘No, he won't,' said Kitty. ‘The past is the past and it's best forgotten. Isn't that right, Celia? You burnt your boats when you left and there's nothing here for you any more.'

‘Ma!' protested Katie. ‘That's not very welcoming.'

Kitty did not look at her but said harshly, ‘Go and make some tea.'

Katie hesitated. ‘Now!' ordered Kitty. ‘Or you can forget following in my footsteps!'

The girl frowned but left the room, leaving the door ajar.

Kitty went and closed it and placed her back against it. ‘You don't want to ruin her life, do you?' she said fiercely. ‘You can see how well she's turned out.'

‘You never told her about me, did you?' said Celia in a dull voice.

‘No. And you should be glad to hear I don't want her ever knowing! She's happy. She's got a good life here. You left her and she doesn't need you. I'd prefer it if she never saw you again.'

‘Mick … did you deliberately lie to me about him being dead?' asked Celia, trembling.

‘Of course not! I suffered along with you. But now I want you to leave. I don't want you here when Katie comes back. Follow me.' She led the way outside and Celia rose and followed, feeling utterly wretched.

Kitty paused by Reception and unlocked a drawer in the desk. She took out a tin box before moving in the direction of the vestibule. ‘Come in here,' she said, opening the door and standing in the space between it and the front door. Celia did as she was told. She could not have spoken to save her life. ‘Don't look like that!' said Kitty angrily. ‘You never wanted her. Give me your handbag.'

Celia handed it over and she stuffed a handful of banknotes inside it. ‘There! Isn't that what you came for? Get yourself a taxi home. Buy yourself some new shoes, a new hat. Anything you want! Don't come back, though, expecting more, because I'll have the police on you if you do.' She clicked the handbag shut and closed Celia's fingers around the handle, then opened the door and waved her out.

Celia went, barely able to take in what had just happened. She felt sick, miserable and bereft as she walked through the rain in a dream.

It was not until she was sitting on the Southport train and had begun to thaw out that her mind started functioning again. The carriage was empty (who wanted to go to Southport on such a wet day?) so she opened her handbag and took out the money Kitty had placed in it and began to count it. There was over fifty pounds! She replaced the money and hugged her handbag to her. She had never been able to save and now here she was with a whole fifty pounds. What should she do with it? A hot meal, she thought. Steak and kidney pie with lashings of gravy, new potatoes and carrots and turnip. Her mouth watered. Clothes … She could buy herself a new frock and a pair of sheer nylons.

Blood money. The words seemed to come from deep within her.

‘No,' she murmured. ‘That's a payoff when somebody's involved in a killing. I've seen that in films.'

What is it then? said the voice. Blackmail money?

‘No! I didn't blackmail her! I wouldn't! She couldn't think that of me?' But of course Kitty Mcleod
had
thought that. Hadn't she said as much when she'd stuffed the money into her bag? But why? Because of that damn note, of course! Celia groaned. Why had she been so stupid as to send it? And why had she been so stupid as to let Kitty Mcleod walk all over her and send her packing? She did not want her blood money! Although, of course, it was nice having some money for once. But she had not enjoyed being treated like dirt. Katherine had not treated her like that. She felt warm just thinking of her daughter. It had made her proud to think she had given birth to such a pleasantly spoken and attractive girl. With a daughter like that at her side, she felt sure her life would improve drastically. She had made a big mistake in letting Kitty Mcleod force her out. What was money compared to a daughter? It was an insult. As if money could make up for what she had lost!

‘Don't come back,' she had been told. Well, she had no intention of going back – but as for keeping out of Katherine's life, that was something different altogether. It was time her daughter knew the truth about her birth. It was wrong to tell people lies. Celia's gran had taught her that and she had been one of the best. A bit of a gambler, but where was the harm in a flutter now and again?

Celia opened her handbag. Fingering the banknotes, she considered what she should do next.

Kitty closed the vestibule door and realised she was shaking all over. It had not come easy to her, behaving so harshly. Celia's face! But what else could she have done? She leant against the door and, closing her eyes, breathed deeply.

‘Where is she?'

Kitty's eyelids fluttered open and she saw Katie standing near the open door of the Smoking Room with a tray in her hands. ‘She had to catch the next train to Southport.'

There was a short silence then the girl said accusingly, ‘You got rid of her! You sent her out in the rain all wet. It would have done her good to see Mick. She thought he was dead!'

‘You don't know what you're talking about. That's all over and done with and best forgotten.' Kitty took off her spectacles and rubbed her eyes.

‘Why did you do it?' demanded Katie. ‘Because of Sarah? Why should you want her for Mick after the way she's treated Ben?'

‘That has nothing to do with Celia. Now pour me a cup of tea and be quick about it!' said Kitty wearily.

Katie put the tray down on the desk. ‘I felt sorry for her. She looked like she needed feeding up.'

‘She's a grown woman, nearly forty! Will you
please
stop going on about her!'