Rainbow's End (51 page)

He looked proudly around the table and Liam was just beginning to say heartily that sure an’ wasn’t that the neatest piece of readin’ he’d heard for years, so it was, when Ellen jumped to her feet and reached for the paper. ‘He must have read it wrong,’ she said rather breathlessly. ‘Deirdre and Donal . . . twins . . . there must be a mistake.’

‘I never read it wrong,’ Toby protested and started to read it again.

Ellen found the advertisement and she and Liam read it too, Ellen’s nose almost resting on the page, for the newsprint was blurred with fat from the chips.

‘
If the parents or guardians of Deirdre and Donal, twins, believed to be residing in the Everton district of Liverpool . . .
’ She broke off. ‘What have you two been up to this time?’

The twins had gone white.

‘We haven’t done nothing we shouldn’t – not lately,’ Deirdre said stoutly. ‘Besides, it says “
something to their advantage
”, and in books that means a ‘heritance or something, don’t it? But that’s an old paper . . . probably it were years ago.’

Ada in her turn took the page and turned it over. ‘No, it’s only a month old,’ she said, having perused the top right-hand corner. ‘Well, this is excitin’ an’ no mistake! What’ve you two been up to, eh? Saved a millionaire from jumpin’ in the river, or give your last ‘a’penny to a poor old woman what’s a duchess in disguise?’

‘Dunno,’ Deirdre said stolidly, chewing, whilst Donal merely looked bewildered and rather annoyed. ‘We’ll go round to Lime Street Passage tomorrer though, eh, Donal? Find out what’s happenin’?’

‘We’ll go Saturday; I’m off at noon,’ Donal said. ‘I don’t want to lose me job, Mam. Nothin’ ain’t worth losin’ your job for.’

‘Lose your job nothin’, Donny,’ Deirdre said crisply. ‘Tomorrer’s the party – remember? You an’ me’s gorran afternoon off.’

Donal stared at her, much struck. ‘So we have,’ he admitted. ‘Right then, we’ll go tomorrer afternoon an’ see these fellers Locke an’ Bagnold. Can you come an’ all, Mam? Only I don’t know as I fancy just me an’ Dee turnin’ up in some posh offices.’

‘Well, I’ll have no end of work for the party . . .’ their mother began doubtfully, to be promptly interrupted by Ellen.

‘Mam, I’m home now,’ she said at once. ‘An’ so’s Liam. The two of us will do all the preparin’ you would have done, if you’ll tell us what you want. We’d like to, wouldn’t we, Liam?’

‘Sure an’ it ’ud be a fine t’ing to help wit’ a party,’ Liam agreed. ‘I’d be honoured to help, so I would.’

‘We-ell, if you’re sure,’ Ada said. ‘Thanks very much, then, both. Me an’ the kids’ll soon find out what’s what. I wonder whether I should take their birth sustificate wi’ me?’

‘Yes, I think you should,’ Ellen agreed. ‘And your own, Mam, or your marriage lines. Something to . . . to prove identity, I think they call it. Isn’t it excitin’, though? We’ll be dyin’ for you to come home an’ tell us all about it!’

As soon as they had eaten their midday meal next day, the small party set out, Ada grimly clinging on to the twins’ birth certificate and her own marriage lines. There had been much discussion as to whether they should go ‘smart’ or ‘natural’, but Ada had finally managed to persuade the twins that they would feel more at home in the solicitor’s office if they wore their best, so it was with Donal smarting under the unaccustomed stiff collar and too-tight trousers of his best suit and Deirdre in Ellen’s best coat, which was a bit too large for her, and her own red tam-o’-shanter, which she felt was too childish, that they at last sallied forth.

‘If I’d ha’ known that I were goin’ to be half strangled I don’t think I’d ha’ agreed to come along,’ Donal groaned, trying to get his hand down between his throat and the collar and failing dismally. ‘It ’ud better be good, that’s all I can say.’

‘It says in the advertisement
something to your advantage
,’ Deirdre reminded him. ‘Look, it’s a lark, any old how.’

And since Donal was forced to agree with her, and to acknowledge that he’d rather be going off to find out what it was all about than spending his time helping Ellen with the homecoming tea, tempers improved as they drew nearer their goal.

‘Come on and do try to look happy, Donal,’ their mother urged as they found the right door and read the brass plate affixed to it. ‘If we go in there lookin’ guilty as all get-out they’ll think we’re shammin’ it, and you ain’t Deirdre an’ Donal at all.’

Horrified by the mere thought that his curiosity was not about to be satisfied, Donal stood up straighter and squared his shoulders resolutely, then fixed his female relatives with the most unnatural smile Deirdre had ever seen on her brother’s countenance. ‘Right you is,’ he said through his crocodile grin. ‘Let’s be havin’ you, Dee – smile, gal! Smile, Mam.’

And thus encouraged, the three of them opened the door and filed into the offices beyond.

‘I like your mam an’ the twins is great,’ Liam said as he and Ellen began to slice bread and butter it. ‘And your brother Bertie’s a nice feller, an’ all. Seems to me I’m a lucky bloke to be marryin’ into a family like the Dochertys, me darlin’.’

Ellen looked up from her swift slicing and smiled, the rose rushing to her cheeks. Liam loved her even more when she blushed, he thought, and leaned over to kiss the tip of her nose, then got on with his buttering. When everyone stopped work, they’d be round here, Mrs Docherty had warned them, so it behoved them to be ready in good time.

‘I’m glad you like ’em, Liam,’ Ellen said shyly. ‘An’ it’s plain as the nose on me face that they like you too. An’ you’ll meet the rest this evenin’ – all but Uncle Willie. He’s livin’ way up north, in Darlington, where his wife comes from. But you’ll meet everyone else – me aunts an’ cousins too.’

‘An’ you’ll meet mine when we go to Dublin, so you will,’ Liam said equably. ‘They’ll love you like I do, acushla. Any more loaves to slice?’

‘Yes, dozens,’ Ellen said with a slight groan. ‘Never mind, when we’ve done the loaves we’ll have a break, shall we? I could do wi’ a nice cup o’ tea, to tell you the truth. An’ I wouldn’t mind a slice of currant loaf, either.’

‘Nor me,’ Liam said. He went to the parlour and fetched a tray of loaves through, then came back, eyeing his beloved uncertainly for a moment. ‘Ellen, when we were in France an’ you told me about your home, it didn’t seem to matter that you had a whole house all to yourselves an’ us Nolans just had a couple o’ rooms. But now I’ve seen it . . .’

‘I know, you can see it’s nothin’ special,’ Ellen said with a smile. ‘But it’s a palace compared to the little house in the court where Mam brought us all up.’

‘Aye, you said.’ Liam looked around him at the big, untidy, comfortable kitchen, then glanced back at the parlour, which was so smart and beautifully furnished, at the short, square hall, and at the stairs which led to the bedrooms on the first floor, and included another staircase, leading up to a garret divided into two on the second floor. He remembered their rooms, so much more commodious than the dreadful quarters which a good many Dubliners accepted as their lot, and frowned to himself, standing the loaves down on the kitchen table and picking up the bread-knife. ‘We’re not badly off by some standards, but . . . this is a palace compared wit’ Claymore Alley, honest to God, so it is.’

Ellen sighed and put down her knife, then looked across the table at Liam, her eyes steady. ‘I’m not marryin’ your family, Liam, nor your home,’ she said gently. ‘And you’d not planned to live with them in Claymore Alley, had you? After we’re married, I mean.’

‘No, I t’ought we’d get a room of our own,’ Liam said. ‘But it wouldn’t be much of a room, not at first. And when I see this house . . .’

‘You worry too much,’ Ellen said. She came round the table and put her arms round Liam, then kissed his chin. ‘It’s you I’m marryin’, Liam, not your . . . your circumstances. And besides, if things don’t go right for us in Dublin we’ll come back here – right?’

‘To be sure. If they’ve not kept me job for me,’ Liam agreed. ‘Of course, ’tis not certain that I’d get a job here, either, but I’d have a rare good try, so I would.’

‘There. Then that’s settled,’ Ellen said, going round to her own side of the table once more and picking up her knife. ‘We’ll go and see the priest tomorrow and get the wedding arranged. That’s what we both want, isn’t it?’

‘It is,’ Liam said, smiling lovingly at the girl opposite him. He loved her so much, but if she’d wanted to back out of their agreement he would not have blamed her. Their future, he thought despairingly, was just a big question mark. But wasn’t it always so, when two people wed? And they’d make a go of it, he knew they would. He leaned over and squeezed her hand. ‘Love you,’ he said.

Deirdre didn’t know quite what she had expected to happen once they had explained their business to the elderly man in the front office, but it was not to be asked to wait for half an hour, ‘Until Mr Locke is free to see you.’ However, that was what happened and as the three Dochertys sat there, unable to chat amongst themselves because the gentleman who had spoken to them was dictating letters to a young girl with frizzy blonde hair, Deirdre began to know an overpowering urge to run out of the room and forget all about the mysterious advertisement. And looking at her mother and brother, she was pretty sure they felt the same. In fact they might have done so had it not been for the fact that the gentleman had taken the birth certificate and Ada’s marriage lines from them when they entered and had shown no disposition to give them back again. So when at last the door opened and a youngish man poked his head into the room and said, ‘Would you send ’em up please, Mr Clark?’ she almost hoped that her mother would say they would not bother after all and ask for their documents back.

But Ada was made of sterner stuff. She stood up, jerked her head at the twins and followed the young man out of the room, up some stairs and along a short corridor. He stopped outside a door, tapped on the panel, opened it and said into the room: ‘Mrs Docherty and the twins, Mr Locke,’ then stood to one side, ushering them into the room and closing the door firmly behind them.

Deirdre looked apprehensively at the man behind the desk. He was stern-looking, with thick grey hair and spectacles. But having looked, he smiled quite pleasantly and came round the desk, shaking hands with all three of them and introducing himself as Mr Locke.

Then, in a voice which was dry but not unfriendly, he bade them sit down on the three upright wooden chairs arranged in front of his desk and sat down again himself. ‘I’ve examined your documents, Mrs Docherty, and it seems to me that you are probably the person we are seeking,’ he said. ‘But in fact we are, in this instance, only the agents for the solicitors who will actually deal with the matter in question. They are a firm situated in Clare, in Southern Ireland, by the name of . . .’

‘Clare?’ Deirdre interrupted. She half stood up. ‘Oh, sir, is it me pal? Bill McBride his name is, he come from County Clare and . . .’ She stopped short.

Mr Locke was positively beaming at her. ‘There!’ he said in a satisfied voice. ‘Not only are you genuinely Deirdre and Donal of the Heyworth Street area of Everton, but you must be the ones I was instructed to find. No one else would know of Mr William McBride! Now that is
very
good news, and will make my job considerably easier. You see, the main task my firm was given was to find you and to pay your expenses to reach County Clare – in point of fact the town of Ennis – where you will be told just what this is all about.’

Ada frowned. ‘Surely no one would expect us to set off for Ireland without knowin’ why or wherefore?’ she said in a clipped, anxious voice. ‘We’ve all got jobs, Mr Locke, besides me being responsible for the younger children still. We’s not goin’ off on a wild-goose chase, not for all the expenses you mention.’

‘No, no, no, Mrs Docherty, don’t think we’re not aware of the problems,’ Mr Locke said soothingly. ‘I’m at liberty to tell you straight away that, should you be able to prove that you are the mother of the Deirdre and Donal mentioned in Mr McBride’s will . . .’

‘Is Bill dead, then?’ Deirdre asked sadly. ‘Oh, I am sorry . . . we was real fond of Bill, Donny an’ me.’

‘Yes, I’m afraid he died close on a year ago,’ Mr Locke said gently. ‘And clearly, he was as fond of you and your brother as you were fond of him, since by the terms of his will he has left you two farms with the farmhouses and all the land attached thereto.’

‘Wha-aat?’ exclaimed Ada, whilst Donal whistled expressively through his front teeth and nudged his sister excitedly. ‘Left the twins a farm – two farms? But . . . but din’t Mr McBride have relatives? I thought our Dee telled me he had a brother . . .’

‘Yes, he did. But his brother predeceased him by several years and latterly Mr McBride has been running both farms, with the help of various farmworkers and a manager. However, I can tell you very little more I’m afraid, save that one of the farms is in excellent heart and thriving, whilst the other is well enough, I understand. Now, Mrs Docherty, I’m sure you can see that this is not an opportunity to be lightly cast aside? In fact, it is a wonderful chance for your family, for Mr McBride has given you what amounts to
carte blanche
over what you do with the properties. As I understand it, Mr McBride has left them in trust for the twins until they are twenty-one, when they become theirs absolutely, with you, Mrs Docherty, as trustee. This means that you cannot simply sell them until the twins are twenty-one, and then they too will have to say they want the farms sold.’

‘There’s no way we’d sell a farm, would we, Donny?’ Dee put in, feeling her cheeks warm with excitement and seeing, by her twin’s glowing face, that he too was astounded by their good fortune. ‘Why, Donny’s rearin’ lambs right now on a bit o’ land he’s rented from a farmer on the Wirral. There’s nothin’ either of us wants more than land of our own. Ain’t that right, Donny?’

‘Yes,
sir
,’ Donal breathed raptly, addressing Mr Locke. ‘Ever since we was nippers we’ve wanted land . . . a farm . . . something like that. Why, when we lived in Evangelist Court we helped Bill to make a garden, din’t we, Dee? An . . . an’ Bill said we were naturals, he said we had green fingers, we could make most things grow.’