A Mother's Duty (23 page)

He kissed her throat where the pulse beat before resting his cheek on her arm. ‘Because I had an overprotective mama myself. I slept with her until I was seven. Except when my father came home. Then I was kicked out. I remember the first time it happened I raised a helluva fuss. He hit me with a slipper and I yelled the place down.’

‘What did he do to you then?’

‘He locked me in a cupboard but that only made me yell more.’ He grinned at the memory.

‘And?’

‘They argued outside the door that long I fell asleep.’

‘Your mother spoilt you,’ she said, smiling and shaking her head at him.

He did not argue but rubbed his nose against hers. ‘Father wanted to send me to boarding school but she was dead against it. She died the summer before I was due to go. It messed up all his plans. He’d expected mother to have made the arrangements but she hadn’t. He was in the Far East and couldn’t get home so I stayed with my sister, which we both hated. She was more like an elderly aunt and friendly with Margaret’s mother. Not that I noticed Margaret in those days. Then Gran offered to have me and you know the rest.’

Kitty drew away from him and rested against his arm. ‘I know bits. It must have been a lot different to Liverpool.’

‘That’s an understatement,’ he said gravely. ‘Like the streets are playgrounds for city kids, the mountains and the lochs were mine. I fished, I rambled.’

‘You never thought of staying when your uncle Donald left you his money?’

‘Not for long.’ He drew her back against him and nibbled her earlobe. ‘There was Grandfather, remember. I did think of finishing my training.’

‘Why didn’t you?’

‘Perhaps I’d seen enough pain and suffering in my life. Besides I’d met you.’ He kissed her and she thrilled to the touch of his mouth on hers. She forgot everything as that kiss lengthened and deepened. Then he opened her blouse and pressed his face against her breasts. She undid his shirt and slipped a hand inside, dragging out his vest and shirt.

‘No,’ he muttered. ‘I have to get these figures done.’

‘Please,’ she whispered, kissing his mouth, his eyelids, his throat.

He kissed her hard before pushing her away. ‘Let’s go upstairs. We might be seen here and that wouldn’t be good for our reputation.’ There was a mocking gleam in his eyes.

Her hopes and her desire for him soared. Perhaps this time passion might carry him away? But it didn’t, and she wondered again if it ever would.

Kitty was just fastening on her stockings when she heard footsteps outside the door. There was something furtive about the sound and John’s questioning eyes met hers. He must have felt the need for silence as much as she did because he put a finger over his mouth. They waited for a knock which did not come. The door handle turned slowly but they had locked the door. The next moment they heard footsteps hurrying away.

John was across the floor in seconds and Kitty followed him. They crept along the tiny landing and gazed over the bannister.

‘Did you see who it was?’ she whispered.

‘Hetty! What on earth was she doing up here?’

‘I suppose she could have had a message for me?’

‘Your guess is as good as mine. But it was deathly quiet down there when we came up.’

‘We’d best go and look anyway,’ said Kitty.

They went downstairs and found Hetty polishing the newel post at the bottom of the stairs. She did not speak or look up as they passed but rubbed the wood harder with a duster. They checked the Smoking Room but it was empty, so they went outside and asked Hannah if anyone had come or gone whilst she was there. Her answer was in the negative.

‘I reckon we’d better keep a watch on dear Hetty’s movements in future,’ murmured John as they went into the kitchen. He beat a tattoo on the table with his fingernails. ‘I could be wronging the girl but I reckon you’re best wearing your corset at all times.’

Her mouth turned up at the corners. ‘Even in bed?’

A smile flicked over his face. ‘You can put it under the mattress. It should be safe enough there.’

She remembered what Hannah had said about seeing Hetty with a shifty-looking bloke and told him about it. ‘We’ll definitely have to keep our eyes open for him,’ said John.

‘Do we tell the boys? They could be a help.’

‘And have them behaving like Sexton Blake and his cronies? Let’s wait and see how things go.’

‘But we can’t be everywhere!’ she protested. Mick’s sensible and Teddy’s not that bad either. ‘Have you ever thought about how you and he have a common interest?’ she added, going off at a tangent.

‘And what would that be?’

‘Fishing.’

He grinned. ‘Kitty, what has that to do with what we’re talking about?’

‘Nothing, I suppose. I’d just like you both to be a bit more friendly.’

‘I’ll remember it. Now let’s get on with some work.’

Mick and Celia came out of the picture house, arm in arm. ‘The way Bela Lugosi rushed around carrying a coffin under his arm was hilarious,’ he said with a grin. ‘I’m glad they reissued the film. I was only a kid the first time it came round.’

‘He was horrible,’ Celia said, giving a shudder. ‘Those terrible staring eyes! No wonder kids aren’t allowed in to see it.’

‘I told you we could pass for sixteen.’

‘OK! So we both look older than we are,’ said Celia, letting go of his arm. ‘But we lied, Mick! And I kept waiting for a hand to clap me on the shoulder and throw me out.’

‘We didn’t lie,’ protested Mick, hurrying her along Lime Street. ‘The doorman didn’t ask us how old we were so we didn’t have to.’

‘OK, OK!’ said Celia. ‘You’re right and I’m wrong, but it’s so easy to get into the habit of lying. Ma does it all the time so that I don’t know when she’s telling the truth and when she isn’t. Where did you tell your ma you were going?’

‘I didn’t tell her anything but I’m supposed to be back by nine.’

‘You’re not going to make it.’ Celia glanced both ways as they crossed the road. It was a fine evening and people were window shopping without any danger of the little money in their pockets being spent. She paused on the pavement in front of the Adelphi. ‘Look, if you’re late your ma’ll get annoyed and might get really awkward. We’ll split here and I’ll make me own way. Nothing’s going to happen to me in broad daylight.’

‘No,’ said Mick, frowning. ‘I’m already late. So what does it matter if it’s ten minutes or half an hour.’ It did matter of course, but he was not going to admit it.

‘Let’s run then.’

They raced all the way to Rodney Street, almost colliding with a couple standing not far from the Georgian-style house where Dr Galloway and his daughter lived.

‘Did you see who that was?’ whispered Mick as they halted at the bottom of the steps. ‘I hope she didn’t recognise me, but we were past quick, weren’t we?’

‘I didn’t look at them,’ said Celia, uninterested. ‘Anyway I’d best go in. Miss Geraldine hasn’t been well. She’s got this cough that’s real persistent. I think the doctor should get her away to the country or the seaside for a long spell.’ She sighed.

Mick stared up at Celia where she stood on the step so her face was on level with his. ‘You think she’s really sick?’ He looked concerned. There had been a boy at his school who’d had a persistent cough and he had died.

Celia gnawed on her lower lip. ‘I hope not. But her dad’s a doctor so he should be able to do something, shouldn’t he?’

He nodded. She smiled. ‘There’s something I overheard that you’d like because you’re real ghoulish.’

‘Go on,’ he urged.

‘There’s supposed to be a secret passage going from beneath the workhouse on the Mount under Brownlow Hill to the infirmary and university.’ Her voice was solemn. ‘In the old days, when paupers with no family died their bodies were smuggled out that way to be experimented on for the advancement of medical science.’

A shiver raced down Mick’s spine and he said with a delighted smile, ‘It could be true! Weren’t there body-snatchers up in Scotland years ago? They came unstuck when they started pinching them out of graves and people kicked up a fuss. Spooky!’

‘I knew you’d like it.’ She smiled. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Mick glanced around, kissed her quick, and then ran as if his life depended on it. His chest was heaving when he entered the kitchen.

‘You’re late,’ said John, turning from the range.

‘Where’s Ma?’ gasped Mick.

‘Putting her feet up. I said you’re late.’ John’s expression was uncompromising. ‘A good half hour! Your mother’ll want to know where you’ve been. I suppose you’ve an excuse?’

Mick realised he should have thought one up. But then why should he make up excuses? he thought resentfully. He did not like telling lies but neither did he want to tell the truth, so he kept silent, going over to the gas refrigerator and taking out a jug. He began to pour milk into cups. The big fella had already put on the kettles.

‘The silent treatment,’ murmured John. ‘I suppose you haven’t seen Hetty on your travels?’

Mick was startled and stared at him dumbly. How could he know that? Or perhaps he didn’t? Whatever, he’d better keep his mouth shut. If he confessed to having seen Hetty up Rodney Street his stepfather might put two and two together and stop him seeing Celia.

‘Am I to take this further silence as a yes or as a no?’ said John, slamming a hand down on the table so that the milk in the cups splashed up and Mick jumped out of his skin.

‘Yes, I mean no. I – I mean – I did see her. She was with some bloke.’

‘What was he like this bloke?’

‘Er – I didn’t look that close. Though I think he had big ears.’

‘That description’ll get us far,’ said John with gentle sarcasm. ‘Were they behaving like sweethearts?’

The question took Mick completely by surprise. ‘Erm, I – er, no!’ he said positively. ‘In fact I think they were arguing.’

‘People who love each other argue.’

Oh, smart!
thought Mick. ‘What do you want me to say?’ His voice rose. ‘They weren’t kissing and cuddling so they weren’t acting like sweethearts in my book.’

‘Keep your voice down or you’ll have your mother up here.’

Mick lost control. ‘I don’t care! I’d like Ma up here! She wouldn’t let you bully me! Anyhow what’s wrong with Het—’

John clamped a hand over Mick’s mouth and rammed him against him. The youth gasped with shock and tried to wriggle free but he was completely helpless. ‘Now listen to me – would you recognise the bloke again? Nod or shake your head.’ Mick managed to nod his head. ‘Good,’ said his stepfather, releasing him.

‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ said Mick, seething with rage and frustration at being rendered helpless.

‘Why, what’ll you do, Mick?’

Mick was silent.

‘Take it as a warning that I won’t have any impudence from you, laddie. And listen, I don’t want what we’ve said in here to go further than these four walls.’

‘Why. Because Ma’ll know what a bully you are then?’

John looked bored. ‘How old are you?’

‘You know how old I am,’ Mick said sulkily.

‘And you’ve been seeing Celia, haven’t you? So why don’t you start behaving like the man you’d like to be. Your mother has enough on her plate without worrying about our differences.’

Mick went sick. ‘I suppose you’re going to stop us from seeing each other?’

‘Ach, no! I’m sure your friendship with Celia is harmless.’

Friendship! Harmless! Did he really believe that? Mick felt like telling him that he loved Celia! Only he felt sure his stepfather would mock him because he couldn’t possibly understand the powerful feelings that surged through his body whenever he so much as brushed against Celia. ‘Thanks,’ he said stiffly.

‘That’s OK. The kettles are starting to boil. Do you want a hand?’

The sudden change in his stepfather’s manner threw Mick off balance. ‘Er, no thanks. I’ll manage.’

John left him alone.

As Mick spooned cocoa and made tea he found himself reliving that suffocating moment when his stepfather had seemed intent on squeezing the life out of him. It had been frightening but Mick made up his mind that he was definitely not going whingeing to his mother. But what had all that been about Hetty?

Mick was still puzzling over it the next morning when he saw Big Ears standing at reception. He would not have stood out in a crowd but for those ears. Mick thought of going over and asking did he want to see Hetty but the vestibule door opened and the O’Neills entered.

‘Hello, Michael,’ said Becky, flashing her lovely smile at him.

He blushed. She was the only person who ever called him by his full name. ‘Good afternoon, Mrs O’Neill. Ma’s about somewhere. I’ll go and fetch her, shall I?’

‘In a minute. How’s Hannah been?’

Mick couldn’t prevent a grimace.

‘That bad?’ she said sympathetically.

‘No,’ he said hastily. ‘Ma said the place has never been so clean. Us boys, though, are going to hell.’

She shook her head and said ruefully, ‘She really is the limit.’

‘Hello, Micky.’ Sarah slipped her hand into his. ‘How’s life been treating you these days?’ It was a phrase her father often used and sounded strange issuing from one so young.

‘OK! How was the trip?’

Mick never got to hear because at that moment Kitty and John arrived on the scene and he was ordered to go and make tea and bring it down to the basement.

Mick did as he was told, lingering only for a few moments to listen to what the O’Neills had to say about the cruise. To his disappointment they were discussing tomorrow’s foundation stone laying ceremony for the Roman Catholic cathedral on Brownlow Hill. He slipped away, fastening a lead to Nelson’s collar he went to meet Celia.

He had just arrived outside St Luke’s Church in Leece Street when she came running, her hair flying behind her. ‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ she gasped, ‘but we’ve had a burglary and the house has been in an uproar. All the silver’s been stolen.’

Mick felt quite excited. ‘Has the doctor had the police?’

‘Of course he has! I had a job getting away. My room was searched and they kept asking me questions,’ she said indignantly. ‘They don’t seem to have a clue, though, how it happened. There’s no sign of a break-in. Miss Geraldine’s real upset and had one of her coughing bouts.’ She took a breath. ‘What’s the world coming to, Mick? A day doesn’t go by when you can’t read of a burglary or a smash-and-grab somewhere in the country.’