A Kiss and a Promise (2 page)

‘I’m walkin’ you home, so I am,’ Michael said obstinately. ‘You don’t know me from Adam, but you’ll be safe as houses, I can promise you that. Why, both me hands is engaged in suppressin’ young Sunny here and holdin’ me kitbag, so I’m not likely to give you trouble! Come to that, if it’s as late as you say, they aren’t goin’ to welcome me at the Sailors’ Home so I’ll be findin’ myself a nice park bench for the rest o’ the night. Are there after bein’ any park benches on Rathbone Street?’

The girl laughed and glanced shyly up at him, subjecting him to a brief, penetrating look before she smiled and fell into step beside him. ‘Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind, I’d be glad of your company,’ she admitted. ‘As for benches, I can’t think of a single one, but if you’d like to spread your bedroll on me mam’s kitchen floor, I’m sure you’d be very welcome.’

It was Michael’s turn to stare now and for one uneasy moment he wondered what sort of girl would let him into her home after such a short acquaintance. He knew there were dockside whores in Liverpool who would cheat a man of his last penny, and he had heard of a good many sailors who had been lured indoors only to find themselves accused of anything from rape to theft. Then men would magically appear in the girl’s room, strip the sailor of anything of value, even his clothing, and either knock him unconscious and cart him down to the docks or simply eject him on to the street to find his own way home.

One look at his companion, however, convinced Michael that he could take her invitation at face value. She was very young and, he guessed, quite ignorant of men and their devious ways. It would not occur to her that there could be anything wrong in offering him the hospitality of her kitchen floor, and this meant that he could spend the rest of the night under a roof – thanks to Sunny the kitten – before making his way back to the docks as soon as it was light. There, he would enquire if it were possible for him to return to Kerry in the time it would take to repair the
Thunderbolt
. Of course he would have to wait until the girl’s family were up so that he might explain how he came to be sleeping in their kitchen, but that would not hold him up for long. He turned to his companion. ‘Thank you very much, I’d be happy to accept the loan of your floor,’ he said gravely. ‘Sure and I don’t even know your name, but I’m Michael Gallagher, Ordinary Seaman aboard HMS
Thunderbolt
. She’s in for repair at present, so I thought I’d mebbe go back to Ireland for a few days to see me mammy and daddy, if there’s time enough, that is. I’d shake your hand but young Sunny’s wrigglin’ like an eel an’ I dare not ease my grip on him or he’ll be off like greased lightning.’

The girl laughed again. I’m Stella Bennett; I’m pleased to meet you, Mr Gallagher,’ she said. ‘I’m the youngest of me family – I’m sixteen, goin’ on seventeen – and all four of me brothers are in the Navy. George, Lewis and Fred are on the same ship, the
Wanderer
, and Bertie’s on the
Eastern Princess
. What did you do before the war, Mr Gallagher?’

‘I helped me daddy on our bit o’ land and I worked at the fishin’,’ Michael said. ‘It were a good life but I wanted some excitement, so as soon as I looked old enough I joined the Royal Navy and now I wonder why I bothered, because me life in Kerry was a good life and me daddy is hard pressed to run the place wit’out me. Still an’ all, the war can’t last for ever and one of these days I’ll be goin’ home to stay and not just to visit.’

‘I’ve often wished we lived in the country,’ Stella said. She sounded wistful. ‘I’m real fond of animals – that’s why me brother Lewis gave me Sunny – and I’ve often wished we could keep a dog or even a few hens, but Mam says the city’s no place for animals and since me dad died there isn’t much spare money. Me eldest sister, Lizzie, says Sunny’s just one more mouth to feed but she shouldn’t complain because I’ve gorra good little job in one of the big shops on Ranelagh Street, so I buys off the cat meat man out of me wages. Besides, when Sunny’s bigger, I dare say he’ll catch mice an’ that – God knows, there’s plenty of ’em in Victoria Court!’

‘From the way he’s fightin’ me he could tackle a good-sized rat and beat it into submission,’ Michael said, grinning. In actual fact, the little cat had settled down quite comfortably and his purr was reverberating through Michael’s clothing. ‘So you’ve four brothers … and here’s me, an only child. Still, as you’re the youngest, I suppose most of ’em’s left home. What about sisters? Oh yes, you mentioned Lizzie, didn’t you?’

As they talked, they had been walking through the quiet, badly lit streets, Stella every now and then catching Michael’s arm to guide him round a corner or through a narrow alley. As Michael asked his last question, they were passing beneath a gas lamp and in its subdued glow he saw her face upturned towards him, alight with gentle mischief, and he felt his heart give a queer little jump in his breast. She was so beautiful, so innocent, so altogether delightful!

‘Sisters? Oh aye, I’ve got sisters all right. I’m the youngest of eight children. Lizzie’s the oldest and the only one, besides meself, what lives at home now. The other two are married and livin’ away. Lizzie helps me mam run the house, does the laundry, the messages and so on. I love her, of course I does, but she’s always tellin’ me off and complainin’ about the way I behave, though I’m sure I try to be a good girl and do as I’m told.’

‘I’m sure you do,’ Michael said sincerely, meaning every word. He was astonished at her elder sister’s blindness; surely one glance from those huge, dark eyes, fringed with black and curly lashes, would be sufficient to prove to anyone that Stella Bennett was an angel? He could not imagine her ever intentionally upsetting anyone, not even a bossy, fault-finding elder sister. He was about to tell her so when she dived under an archway, crossed a small cobbled yard, and stood on tiptoe to reach a big iron key down from a lintel above a front door. She opened it, took a few steps down a passage and turned right into a kitchen where a welcome warmth met them, together with the scent of baking, floor polish and the pleasant homely aroma of a banked-down fire. There was a lamp in the middle of the large table and Stella turned up the wick just as Michael gently stood the cat down on the floor. Sunny had obviously fallen quite deeply asleep in the warmth of Michael’s duffel and now he stared round him for a moment, wide-eyed and curious, before jumping up on to the nearest chair and curling into a neat ball.

Michael glanced up at the large clock that hung above the mantel. Good God, it was past two in the morning, far too late for even the most accommodating boarding house. He hoped he would not be putting Stella in an invidious position by his presence on her kitchen floor, but it seemed he had little choice. There were few convenient park benches in this part of the city and besides, the thought of seeing her when he awoke in the morning made an overnight stay irresistible. Whether it was luck or the will of the gods, he had no means of knowing, but now he had met Stella Bennett he knew he would not willingly lose touch with her again.

‘Would you like a cup o’ tea, Mr Gallagher?’ Stella said, her voice the lowest of low murmurs.

Michael glanced apprehensively towards the door which led to the rest of the house before answering in an equally muted tone: ‘Sure and wouldn’t I love one, Miss Bennett? But we don’t want to be wakin’ the rest of your family. It’s no way to make meself loved, disturbin’ folk.’

‘Oh, Mr Gallagher, do you want the Bennetts to love you?’ Stella said, flashing him a wickedly teasing glance as her lips tilted into the smile which Michael had already decided was one of her chief charms. ‘But they all sleep like the dead, even me brother George, and it won’t take a minute to pull the kettle over the fire and freshen the pot.’

So there, in the warm and comfortable kitchen, the two young people shared a pot of tea and talked. They talked of everything under the sun, though mostly of themselves, and, on Michael’s part at least, liking soon began to deepen into something very much warmer. Indeed, by the time he had laid out his bedroll on the hearthrug and whispered goodnight to his companion as she left the kitchen, he knew himself to be well on the way to falling in love for the first time in his life.

‘Wharrever …? By God, young feller, I near broke me bleedin’ neck trippin’ over your bedroll! You must be a pal of George’s, I suppose, but why in the name of God didn’t you share his room instead o’ kippin’ down on me kitchen floor? Oh mercy, I’ve stubbed me bleedin’ toe and likely broke me ankle an’ all! Gerrup an’ tell me what you’re a-doin’ there.’

The woman’s shrill voice acted like a bucket of cold water on poor Michael, still fathoms deep in sleep after his late night. He sat up, already mumbling an apology, and stared at the woman standing on her left foot and vigorously rubbing her right. For a moment, he could not remember exactly where he was, or why, but then the previous night’s happenings came flooding back into his mind and he crawled out of his bedroll and began to pull on his jacket. It was tempting to accept her suggestion that he was George’s friend, but he decided that honesty was the best policy. Taking a deep breath, he began to explain. ‘No, Mrs Bennett, you’ve got me wrong. I – I was on me way to the Sailors’ Home on Canning Place when I come across your youngest, a-searchin’ for her cat. I – I reckoned it weren’t safe for her to be on the streets alone so after we’d caught the cat, I brung her back here. By then it were too late for the Sailors’ Home or any other lodging house, so when Miss Bennett said it would be all right for me to kip down on the floor …’

The older woman’s eyebrows had shot up almost into her hair as he spoke but now she interrupted him, wagging her head sadly as she did so. ‘You don’t have to say no more, young feller; Stella is the kind o’ girl who brings in half-drowned puppies, half-starved kids and scrawny kittens every day of the week, expectin’ us to feed ’em and look after ’em. But it’s the first time she’s brung in a man what’s fully growed, an’ I ain’t sure I like it. Did she tell you she were only sixteen?’ She looked keenly into his face. ‘And how old might you be, young feller? Not a deal older than her, I’d say. And I’m not Stella’s mother, wharrever you may think; I’m her sister Lizzie.’

‘I’m just eighteen, Miss Bennett, and I’m real sorry I took you for Miss Stella’s mam,’ Michael said humbly, realising that his mistake might yet cost him dear. ‘The t’ing is, you were standin’ with your back to the lamp so I couldn’t see your face clear at all, at all.’ He gave her what he hoped was an appealing smile. ‘But I guess you’d rather have me space than me company right now; I’d better go to the Sailors’ Home, where I belong.’

Lizzie Bennett smiled. Now that Michael could see her properly, for she had turned up the lamp, he realised that she was a good-looking woman with a quantity of dark hair which fell to her shoulders and twinkling brown eyes set in a round, rosy face. She appeared to be in her forties and could easily have been Stella’s mother and he found himself wondering how old Mrs Bennett was and whether he would meet her, for Miss Lizzie did not look as though she meant to turn him out right now.

‘It’s all right, la’, I’m not sending you on your way wi’ no breakfast inside you,’ Lizzie said. ‘If I wanted young Stella to ring a peal round my ears, I might do it, but I’m of a peaceable disposition. The rest of the family will be down soon enough, so you go and have a wash at the sink and tidy yourself while I make the porridge.’

Michael obeyed gladly and presently found himself toasting bread before the kitchen fire and chatting away to Lizzie as though he had known her all his days. He told her about his life in Kerry, his home at Headland Farm and the fishing boat, the
Orla
, in which he and his father went to sea when conditions were right. She was intrigued, asking what the name
Orla
meant and expressing delight when Michael replied that it was Irish for Golden Princess, though he made her laugh by describing the elderly, tar-covered craft as being more like an old black dog than anything else.

By the time the rest of the family came clattering down the stairs, Michael and Lizzie were on the best of terms and though George, the only son at home right now, gave him a hard look from narrowed eyes, breakfast passed pleasantly. Mrs Bennett was a white-haired woman with an untidy and bulging body beneath a much stained black dress and shawl. She had looked at him rather oddly when Stella introduced them but it was soon obvious that she doted on her youngest child and accepted Michael as her daughter’s protégé.

She told Michael that she and Stella would soon be losing Lizzie, since her eldest daughter had taken a job in Birkenhead, where a new confectionery shop needed a competent manageress. She would be given the flat over the shop at a low rent and this, more than anything else, had persuaded her to take the position. ‘We’ll miss her, me and Stella, but we’ll pull together to keep the place decent, and Lizzie won’t be gone for another month so she’s goin’ to teach Stella how to cook before she goes. I’m not much of a cook now, though I were a dab hand at it when I were younger, but ever since Lizzie’s been old enough she’s took over the cookin’ like. Fancy stuff at any rate,’ she ended.

‘Lizzie’s a grand cook,’ Stella said, between mouthfuls of porridge. She had come down to the kitchen in the grey and white striped poplin blouse and severe grey skirt which, she told Michael, were her working clothes but had enveloped herself in a large calico apron before beginning to eat. ‘Lizzie works at Lunt’s on the Scotland Road – I expect she told you – so it ain’t often we have to make cakes and such, nor bread. Lizzie gets them at a special price, you see.’

‘Aye, so she do. I reckon Stella ought to take on a job at Lunt’s when our Lizzie goes so our supply of nice grub don’t dry up,’ George said gruffly. He grinned across at Michael; clearly his attitude to the younger man had softened as the meal progressed. ‘But of course, our Stella would rather swan around a posh shop, sellin’ fancy leather gloves to fancy ladies at fancy prices. She don’t like the idea of wearin’ a uniform overall and sellin’ sticky buns to sticky kids all day long, any more than she likes the idea of scrubbin’ the floor.’