A Mother's Duty (38 page)

Kitty responded immediately. ‘Send her here. I’m sure I can make good use of her.’

Nancy smiled. ‘I was hoping you’d say that. I’m sorry for the girl to tell you the truth. That mother of hers leads her a terrible life and now she’s not well she’s even more demanding. Celia had to stop sleeping in, you know.’

‘I didn’t know,’ said Kitty with a sigh. ‘But Celia’s a good girl and has a strong sense of duty. She would do what’s right by her mother.’

‘That’s true,’ said Nancy, getting to her feet and giving John a glance. ‘I’ll be going then but I’ll see you again before we leave. Bye, John.’

‘Bye, Nance!’ He spoke in a tone of voice which told the listener he was not paying attention.

Kitty felt like giving him a poke because she could see Nancy was hurt. Instead she saw Nancy to the door, saying in a soothing voice that the news of his sister’s death had shocked him more than she would have believed. Nancy agreed.

Kitty returned to the kitchen and sat next to her husband. ‘Well, what is it?’

He looked at her from eyes which appeared kind of shell-shocked. ‘She wants to come here.’

‘Who?’

‘Jeannie.’ He eased his throat. ‘You’re not going to believe this, Kit. I can hardly believe it myself, but she says she’s my daughter.’

Kitty stared at him, unable to speak for several seconds. ‘But your daughter’s dead! Unless you had another? No!’ Kitty dismissed that thought immediately. He wouldn’t have. Her head was suddenly full of bubbling thoughts.

‘She says Margaret’s mother lied to her,’ he said earnestly. ‘Told her I’d been killed in the war.’

‘But that’s cruel!’ said Kitty.

‘You’re forgetting she blamed me for Margaret’s death.’ There was a bitter note in his voice.

Kitty thought about that, imagined the mother with her only child dead and a living baby in her arms. Oh, she could easily picture the scene and feel the anguish of that mother. ‘What do you want to do?’ she said. ‘Do you want to see her?’

He stared at her. ‘A girl, Kit. A daughter!’ His voice was unsteady. ‘What do you think?’

She met his eyes and knew what he was thinking and she felt a stir of pleasurable excitement before a blast of sensible thinking blew it away. ‘We don’t know her! We don’t know if she’ll fit in! She mightn’t like us.’

He looked taken aback. ‘Why shouldn’t she like us? Or do you think it’s me she won’t like? After all I didn’t stick round long enough to visit her grave. If I had then I’d have known she wasn’t dead and I’d have been around for her.’

And your life would have been completely different
, thought Kitty.
We’d have never met.
She covered his hand with hers. ‘I didn’t mean she wouldn’t like you. You’re kind, you’re good-looking, you’re strong,’ she said, boosting his ego. ‘And you weren’t to blame. Why shouldn’t she like you? Does she know her granny lied to you?’

‘I don’t know. No, she can’t. Who’d have told her?’

They were both silent a moment. Then Kitty said, ‘How did she find out you were her father and that you were still alive?’

‘By accident. A photograph she found in Emily’s bedroom when she was clearing things out. It was a wedding photograph of Margaret and me.’ He squeezed Kitty’s hand tightly. ‘Jeannie had never seen a photograph of me but she had one of her mother as a bride on her own. She had no idea her father was Emily’s brother but my sister had written the information and the date of the wedding on the back of the photograph. Jeannie says in her letter she can scarcely believe it. Couldn’t understand why her grandmother should lie to her. That she wants to meet me. Do I say come?’

There was a silence and Kitty knew this was a crucial moment in their lives. What if Jeannie proved a disappointment to that ideal they both carried in their heads? They knew so little about her, but then wasn’t the best way of finding out more about her to meet her? ‘Tell her to come,’ said Kitty and leaning forward she kissed his cheek. ‘And don’t look so worried. I’m sure everything will be fine.’

John nodded but did not look convinced. ‘Will you tell the boys?’

She hesitated, then made a decision. ‘Let’s meet her first. After all she might not want to stay.’

So it was settled. John wrote to the girl claiming to be his daughter and almost by return of post he received an answer saying she would be arriving Saturday.

They looked at each other. It was the start of the busiest week of their year.

‘We have to squeeze her in somewhere,’ said John, running a hand over hair which showed a few silver threads.

‘What about the box room?’ said Kitty.

‘It’s a mess and there’s no bed.’ He frowned.

‘It’s the best I can do,’ she said firmly. ‘She can have Jack’s new one. He can squeeze in with Ben.’

‘OK. I’ll sort it out,’ he muttered and walked out of the kitchen before Kitty could say anything else.

If she had not known already how worked up he was about Jeannie’s coming, she would have realised it the next day. His nightmares returned, which told Kitty just how much he was worried about the past and what Jeannie would think of him. Kitty could only hope that once Jeannie arrived he would be able to find some peace of mind.

On Saturday morning they made an early dash to the market for food and John surprised her by buying an armful of flowers from one of the shawlies outside St John’s market. ‘I thought it’d be nice if you could put some in Jeannie’s room,’ he said.

Strangely she was reminded of that time he had given her the white hyacinth and she felt a momentary pang of jealousy. ‘I’ll fit it in somehow,’ she murmured, thinking how she was already up to her eyes in work.

Not for the first time she wished she had not been so magnanimous in allowing Mick and Teddy to choose the jobs they wanted. But at least Ben was old enough to help her now and he was good with Jack as well. Maybe in a year or two, if there wasn’t a war, they would be able to afford to put hot and cold running water in some of the bedrooms and that would be less work.

It was three o’clock when John told her he was off to meet Jeannie’s train. They had decided earlier it would be best if just he and Jack went to this first meeting. ‘How do I look?’ he said.

She picked a thread of white cotton from the lapel of his best jacket and thought he looked a treat. It was not often John dressed up and she thought the girl would have to be mad not to appreciate him. ‘You’ll do,’ she murmured and pushed him out of the door.

John stood by the hissing locomotive with Jack on his shoulders whispering in his ear. They had arrived too early and John was keyed up with waiting. What would she be like? He knew she was tall and fair but it was her personality he was interested in. Was she kind? Would she believe that if he had known she was alive he would have lived a different life? He took out Uncle Donald’s watch and checked the time. He realised it was later than he thought and loped up the platform with Jack clinging on tightly and protesting that he had wanted to stay longer to look at the engine.

‘Later, son,’ gasped John, wondering why he had given in to the urge to bring Jack with him, but he knew why really. He was his son, his only son and Jeannie’s half-brother.

The London train had steamed in and was disgorging passengers. John’s hazel eyes scanned faces and then he saw her. It had to be her! She was so like Margaret it came as a shock. For a moment he wondered if he had made a mistake in being so keen to have her stay with them. What would Kitty think when she saw her?

‘Jeannie!’ he shouted.

Her head turned in the direction of his voice and she hurried towards him. She tilted her head to take in the full height of him with Jack on his shoulders. ‘You look so like the old photograph it’s uncanny!’ Her voice was low and husky. She held out a hand.

‘You’re like your mother.’ He gripped her hand and gazed at her in wonder. She had a lovely face with smooth skin and a perfectly straight nose with nostrils that flared delicately. He found the reality of her being here amazing. Miraculous! He could only stare and try and take in that she was truly his daughter. He cleared his throat. ‘I’m so pleased to see you, Jeannie.’

‘I’m glad to be here.’ Her eyes looked suspiciously damp and they continued to stare at each other.

Jack tweaked his father’s hair. ‘Now she’s come can we go and see the engines?’

John took a deep breath. ‘This is my son Jack, your half-brother. Say hello to your sister, Jack.’

‘Only if we can go and see the engine,’ said his son, wrapping his arms tightly about his neck.

‘That’s cheeky.’ John slapped his leg lightly. ‘We’ll come back tomorrow and see the engines.’

‘But you promised I could see them now,’ protested Jack, rubbing his thigh.

‘I did not.’

‘You said later.’

‘I meant tomorrow,’ said John exasperated, thinking he could do without an argument with his son right now but Jack had such a strong will. ‘Jeannie will be wanting a cup of tea.’

‘Who wants a boring old cup of tea?’ said Jack, and smiled down at the woman who couldn’t possibly be his sister because she was far too old. She wore a plain velour-brimmed hat on her chestnut hair and was dressed in a shabby navy blue dress and jacket, which did not look anywhere near as good as that worn by his mother, but she was smiling up at him in a way that was somehow encouraging. ‘Perhaps you like engines?’ he said hopefully.

‘As a matter of fact, I do.’

Jack bounced on his father’s shoulders. ‘There ye’are, Pops.’

John smiled at his daughter. ‘You don’t have to be polite. You can be honest and say you hate them.’

‘I am being honest!’ She strode alongside him lugging her suitcase. ‘I like mechanical things and going fast.’

‘You’d like Teddy’s motorbike,’ called down Jack. ‘He helps make engines for cars and aeroplanes.’

Jeannie looked at John with a question in her eyes. ‘Is Teddy one of your stepsons?’

‘Aye. Beware of him, though. He’s a bit of a daredevil, so don’t be persuaded to get on that motorbike of his.’ He softened his words with another smile and reached out a hand. ‘Here, give me that suitcase.’

She handed it over. ‘There are two others, aren’t there?’

‘Yes, Mick and Ben. Mick’s twenty. Ben’s twelve. Both nice lads. Kitty, my wife—’ He hesitated.

‘Yes?’ She looked at him with an expression in her eyes that took him completely by surprise and gave him such a thrill that he forgot what he was going to say.

‘You’re like your great-grandmother,’ he said instead. ‘I mean my grandmother not Margaret’s grandmother. Not so much in looks but that expression was pure Gran.’

Jeannie’s expression was wistful. ‘I’m sorry I never got to meet her but Great-Grandfather’s still alive, isn’t he?’

‘I haven’t heard anything different.’

‘Maybe I – we could go and see him one day?’

‘Maybe,’ said John, making up his mind there and then that they would. ‘But right now we’ll have a quick look at the engine. That’s if you don’t mind?’ he said.

‘I said I didn’t mind.’ She enchanted him with her smile again. ‘As long as you don’t think your wife will mind us being a little late.’

‘No, Kitty won’t mind,’ he lied, certain that his wife would be on pins waiting to see what Jeannie was like. He felt a moment’s unease, wondering how Kitty would feel when he presented her with this beautiful stranger. She was after all the spitting image of his first wife and Kitty knew exactly how he had felt about her. For a moment he wished he had kept his mouth shut, but it was too late now.

‘She’s here and I reckon she’s gonna be trouble,’ wheezed Hannah, planting herself down on the bed and watching Kitty dithering over where to put the glass vase of daffodils. There was little space in the box room and the roof slanted almost to the floor on one side.

‘Why should she be trouble?’ said Kitty, setting the vase on a chair and sitting beside Hannah. She had been sorting out rooms and greeting people most of the day and would have liked nothing better than to put her feet up.

‘She’s got the looks of a Delilah and thou knows what happened to Samson,’ said Hannah.

‘She chopped his hair off.’ Kitty yawned, wondering what the maid was on about.

‘Aye, but it wasn’t just that,’ said Hannah with a grim smile. ‘He was led into wicked ways and lost his strength.’

Kitty smiled wearily. It had been a mistake to sit down because it made her realise how tired she was. If it hadn’t been for Hannah nattering on, she could have easily dozed off up here where it was quiet. She wished she didn’t have to go downstairs and face John’s daughter. Now the moment was almost here she felt on edge because Hannah made her sound like a femme fatale. She wondered what the boys would make of her. What had John made of her? Perhaps he needed rescuing?

‘Thou needs to be on thy guard when thee comes face to face with evil,’ said Hannah darkly. ‘A beautiful woman can be a snare to a man.’

‘You’re getting carried away,’ said Kitty, getting to her feet. ‘You should know better than to go by outer appearances, Hannah. Come on, let’s go down and hopefully I’ll find out just how wrong you are.’

John and Jeannie were in the kitchen where he was making tea. ‘There you are, Kit,’ he said, to all outward appearances thoroughly calm and in command of the situation. ‘Meet Jeannie. Jeannie, my wife.’

‘How do you do?’ said Kitty, stretching out a hand and thinking Hannah was right,
Here comes trouble. She is beautiful.

‘I’m very well, thank you.’ Jeannie’s voice was well modulated and her manner confident. ‘It’s kind of you to have me here.’

‘Our pleasure.’ Kitty’s tone was polite. ‘How long are you planning on staying?’

‘She’s only just arrived! Give her a chance,’ rebuked John.

Kitty bit her lip and said in a smiling voice. ‘Sorry, Jeannie. I didn’t mean anything by it. I confess I’m nervous. It’s not every day a husband’s daughter turns up out of the blue. Your letter gave us quite a shock.’

‘I’m sorry. Finding out about my father was a shock to me, too.’ She glanced up at him and smiled.

The look that John gave her caused Kitty a different kind of shock. ‘I’m sure it must have been,’ said Kitty abruptly. ‘Do sit down. You do have proof of who you are, don’t you?’