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Authors: June Francis

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BOOK: A Mother's Duty
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‘I am proud of him,’ she whispered. ‘Anyway, why did you have to busk tonight when there was no need? I said I’d feed you and give you a roof over your head.’

‘I don’t want reforming, Mrs Ryan,’ he whispered back. ‘I like my life the way it is and I don’t want no woman chaining me to her apron strings.’

Kitty gasped. ‘You’ve got a cheek suggesting such a thing! Winking at me and looking at me in such a way that – that …’

‘So it’s a sin now to look? You’re an attractive woman. I could kiss you right now instead of just looking at you but that would be a fool thing to do.’

He had succeeded in taking her breath away and she found herself blushing like a young girl paid her first compliment. Her hand went to her hair where it curled in the nape of her neck. He had disarmed her and she knew that she would have liked him to kiss her. ‘You really think I’m attractive?’ she stammered.

He smiled. ‘Even when you’re biting my head off – but don’t go thinking I enjoy you acting like a shrew.’

‘I’ll have you know normally I’m an even-tempered woman.’

‘Like when you throw fish.’

‘Some people would try the patience of a saint.’ Her tone was mild but she was feeling gloriously alive. ‘Now will you let go of my arm because you’re hurting me?’

He released her. ‘So where do we go from here?’

‘I thought we were going to my hotel? You want paying, don’t you?’

‘A labourer is worthy of his hire,’ said John. ‘That’s from the Good Book so my granny taught me. But don’t make the mistake of thinking playing the fiddle isn’t labour, too. I practised damn hard to get that good.’

‘You are good,’ she said generously. ‘I’m sure you could play in a dance band.’

He frowned. ‘There you go again trying to turn me respectable.’ He fell into step beside her. ‘I don’t want to play in a dance band.’

‘What do you want?’ she asked impulsively. Because surely there must be something more he wanted from life than busking in the streets.

For a moment she thought he was going to tell her, then the warmth that had lingered in his eyes died. Without another word he walked on and his stride was so long she had no chance of keeping up with him.

The boys came up to her. Ben was dragging his feet, scuffing the toes of his shoes as Mick and Teddy tried to keep him upright and control the monkey, whose lead had wrapped itself round Mick’s left leg. ‘I want Little John to stay,’ said Ben, his bottom lip quivering. ‘If he goes he’ll take Joey with him and I don’t think I’ll be able to find the shop with the white mice again.’

She almost said, ‘I don’t think he wants to stay,’ but she did not trust her voice because for some reason she felt near to tears. She took Ben’s hand and they walked slowly up the Mount together.

They found John sitting on the stairs with his hands looped between his knees, and Kitty came over all maternal as she looked at him. ‘You’re tired, Mr McLeod,’ she said softly.

‘It’s all that work you threw my way,’ he murmured with only the faintest of smiles.

‘You’ll sleep all the better for it.’ She hesitated. ‘Are you going to stay for supper?’

He hesitated too before answering. ‘Herrings cooked the Scandinavian way?’

‘That’s what I said.’

He rose to his feet and she felt an overwhelming gladness.

She turned to the boys. ‘Ben, leave that lead alone. Mick, take that monkey downstairs. Teddy, get that scowl off your face and show Mr McLeod the way. I’ll be with you in ten minutes.’

She did not stay to see her orders carried out but hurried into the kitchen. She sang softly as she placed the covered dish of fish and a tureen of potatoes taken from the oven onto a tray. After the barest of hesitations she got out a tumbler before going to a cupboard and standing on tiptoe. She could just about manage to reach the next to highest shelf standing on an upturned bucket and considered how someone tall in the kitchen would be an asset. She poured an inch of liquid into the tumbler and replaced the bottle. Then she diced some fruit into a dish before making a jug of cocoa.

As she entered the front basement room she was aware of the two elder boys’ eyes upon her, but neither of them spoke and she was thankful for that. She glanced at John who was slumped in the rocking chair with his eyes closed and decided to leave him for the moment. First the monkey. She had noticed that despite the cat’s arched back and hissing protests, Ben was trying to persuade the monkey to sit in the cardboard box which was the cat’s bed. She placed the fruit on the hearth and immediately the monkey scampered towards the dish.

She served the boys their meal before going over to the man in the rocking chair. His long legs were stretched towards the fire and she noticed there was a dirk thrust down a stocking. Did he walk where danger lay or was it purely for show? Her eyes reached up to his face and she noticed that his eyelashes gave the impression of having had their ends dipped in gold paint. Part of her wanted to leave him sleeping, to enjoy his rest, whilst another part wanted him awake and noticing her. She realised then what a mess her emotions were in. She glanced at the dinner table where she had dished out their supper and saw that the cat, having given the monkey’s plate a disdainful sniff was preparing to spring. ‘Scat, cat,’ she hissed. It hesitated but the temptation was too much and it sprang. ‘Mick, get that cat!’ she yelled.

The Scotsman shot up in the chair. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute, dammit! I’ve only got one pair of hands!’ His eyes were wide open and immediately Kitty fell on her knees beside his chair. She had seen such fearful apprehension before. ‘It’s all right, Mr McLeod. The war’s over. You can relax. But if you want that dinner I promised, you best have it now or the cat’ll yowl the place down.’ She reached out with both her hands and covered his shaking ones. ‘It’s all right,’ she repeated. ‘I promise you. You’re safe with me.’

It seemed a long moment before he appeared to recognise her and he freed a shaky breath. Even so there was still a haunted look about his face.

‘I’ve a drop of whiskey here if you’d like it?’ said Kitty calmly. ‘It’s Irish, though, not Scotch. I thought it might help keep out the cold.’

He nodded and took the glass from her, downing it in one go. Then he rose and went over to the table and sat next to Ben who was eating with his fingers and drowsily watching the monkey.

Kitty poured cocoa and made conversation as she began to eat. ‘Michael used to have a wee dram sometimes to help him sleep. His uncles who live in County Cork brought a bottle over every time they stayed for the Grand National.’

John forked up a mouthful of fish, chewed, swallowed, and said huskily, ‘I’ve been to Ireland.’

‘When was that?’

He hesitated and she thought he was not going to answer, but after a moment he said, ‘After the war. I went to see the mother of a soldier who’d died on me.’ He chewed with slow deliberation.

‘The Black and Tans would be in Ireland then,’ said Kitty, wanting to find out more.

‘Aye. It was a dirty fight they were involved in and the civil war which followed wasn’t much different.’

‘You stayed on in Ireland for that?’ She was surprised.

‘I was needed,’ he muttered. ‘Let that suffice.’

Kitty fell silent because she knew a little more about him now and guessed it would be a mistake to force his confidence, even if she could. Who was he? What was he? She had a name but that told her only that he was of Scots descent. He had fought in the war, had been to Ireland, had a sprinkling of relatives whom he didn’t have much to do with. Perhaps they were all ashamed of the life he led? But what had caused him to lead such a solitary life? Had it solely been the war? That moment back there when he had wakened, she had been reminded of Michael after the worst of his nightmares. Then she had had to hold his shaking body and soothe away his fears.

Ben’s sleepy voice startled her into remembrance of her sons’ presence. ‘Can I go to bed now and take Joey with me, Ma?’

She smiled at him tenderly, forgiving him for having worried her. He was still her baby after all. ‘Yes to bed. No to Joey. Mick, you take him up. Teddy, you can give me a hand in the kitchen. We’ll leave Mr McLeod to finish his dinner in peace.’

She ushered them out, hoping when she returned the Scotsman could be persuaded to talk a little more about himself. But when she returned he had gone.

Feeling disappointed and now too restless to go to bed despite her weariness, Kitty decided to do some paperwork. She hated paperwork. It was something her mother had always dealt with, although she had taught Kitty the rudiments of bookkeeping. She sat down at the table in the basement determined to do her accounts, but no sooner had she started than she felt an urge to weep. She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. What on earth was the matter with her? She could not now start weeping all over again for her mother. She had to cope! She gazed down at the accounts book and a tear splodged some figures. Quickly she blotted the spot and concentrated her mind not on that still figure in the coffin but on John McLeod. He had said she was attractive and had wanted to kiss her but perhaps it was all baloney. Why else had he just upped and left without saying goodnight?

With an unsteady hand she picked up a pen. She was being stupid and all over a man who had told her he didn’t want to be tied down. Was that the kind of man she needed right now?

She rose and went over to the sideboard set against a wall and took up the photograph. Michael looked handsome, smart and upright in the wedding photograph and she looked good too. She wore a cream crêpe de Chine suit and a large hat with overblown artificial roses round the brim. They both looked familiar but not like anyone she really knew well anymore. They were so young, untested, but soon to be put through the mill.

She replaced the photograph and gazed unseeingly across the room. It had been terrible saying farewell to the keen-eyed youth she had loved when he went off to war but it was even worse when he returned. That farewell had really been goodbye because the man he became had been so ill, so weak, had found it such a struggle to breathe sometimes that there had been days when she could not bear going into the room where he lay because it hurt so much. Of course she had gone but it had torn her apart watching him suffer, slowly dying in front of her eyes. It had been a relief when the influenza took him from her.

The tears rolled down her cheeks and she picked up her pen again and dug it into the blotting paper. She remembered what Jimmy had said about Michael being weak and told herself fiercely that was not true. Yet as she sat at the table she felt miserably unconvinced. He could have been more of an emotional support to her and the boys, but everything involved in their rearing had been left to her and her mother. What would her life have been like now if Michael had not died? He had been surprisingly demanding in bed and how would she have coped if there had been another child, with him being no help at all? She longed for someone strong to lean on, to replace her mother and Jimmy. A man who would be able to do all the jobs necessary but control her boys. He would need to have a sense of humour and plenty of patience, to have seen a bit of life. It would also be useful if he knew something about the internal combustion engine because Teddy had a growing interest in engines. Mick, on the other hand, enjoyed reading, writing and listening to the radio, acquiring knowledge on any subject under the sun. Whilst Ben – he was into everything! But John McLeod knew that and still he had said she was attractive. He must feel something for her whilst she …

Kitty pulled herself up short. What on earth was she thinking of? He had left and she did not know where he had gone. It would be best if she stopped thinking about him altogether.

Chapter Four

Ben was up early the next morning and after breakfast sat himself on the area steps, despite having been told by Kitty he must never sit on stone. By ten o’clock there was still no sign of the big Scottie and he was getting restless and thinking of going to look for him.

Annie appeared with a bucket of steaming water. ‘You get up off them steps,’ she ordered, ‘or you’ll end up with piles.’

Ben did not know what piles were and could not have cared less but he went down the steps and indoors anyway. There was no one in the basement so he went up to the kitchen where he found Mick and Kitty.

‘He hasn’t come,’ he said, standing next to Mick’s chair and resting his chin on the newly scrubbed table.

‘Who hasn’t come?’ murmured Mick, not looking up from his book.

‘Little John. I want to see Joey and the white mice again.’

‘Hard luck,’ said his brother.

‘I want to see them.’

There was no response from Mick but Kitty, who had known exactly who he was talking about, said, ‘He probably has something else to do, son.’

‘He said he’d take me.’

‘Are you sure?’ She knew Ben could convince himself something was true when it was not. Although she had not forgotten that Mr McLeod had said he would fix it for Ben over the monkey but, of course, that had been before yesterday evening.

‘He said maybe,’ said Ben.

‘That’s not definite.’

‘It almost is.’

‘It isn’t! And that’s enough,’ said Kitty, getting to her feet. ‘You’ve already blotted your copybook, my lad, so you just be careful. No wandering off on your own. Why don’t you go down the Pier Head with Mick to watch the boats? Then when you come back we’ll have something on toast by the fire downstairs and play Snakes and Ladders.’

Ben considered the suggestion and tugged his brother’s sleeve causing him to spill some milk. ‘Eejit,’ said Mick without rancour.

‘Let’s go now,’ insisted Ben.

‘Go where?’

‘The Pier Head like Ma suggested. Please, Mick,’ he said coaxingly.

Mick sighed and closed his book. ‘What’s the rush?’

‘I want to get there.’

Kitty smiled as she watched the pair of them. ‘Go on, love. I could do without him under me feet.’

Mick drained his cup and led the way out of the kitchen, not averse to an outing but wishing it was not always him that was chosen to look after Ben. He wondered what had gone on between her and the big Scottie after they had gone to bed. Perhaps nothing, he thought hopefully. Otherwise Ma would have said something about him calling round later for Ben.

BOOK: A Mother's Duty
8.82Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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