A Mother's Duty (5 page)

‘I want Jimmy,’ said Ben, stamping his foot. ‘He gave me a ride on his shoulders and my legs didn’t get so tired.’

Kitty gazed at him feeling a sudden helplessness. ‘It’s not so far, love, and you’re not a baby anymore. Walking will make your legs stronger and on Monday I’ll go with you myself. Today I have to go the fish market and I should have been there by now.’

He looked at her mournfully but she determined to be stern with him. ‘I’m telling you straight if you’re not on your way in three minutes, there’ll be no ha’penny for sweeties later!’ She reached for the black velour cloche hat she had bought for Michael’s funeral and dragged it over her fair hair. ‘Now get going.’ She took the basket from the table and, seizing Ben by the shoulders, propelled him in the direction of the area steps. But he proved stubborn and dug his heels against the bottom step, resting his full weight against Kitty, almost forcing her off balance. She slapped his leg but he did not flinch.

‘I want Mick to take me instead of Teddy,’ he yelled, gazing up at his eldest brother who stood at the top of the steps.

‘I can’t,’ said Mick. ‘I’ll have to leave now or I’ll be late. You’re making life tough for Ma, Ben, when you could make it easier. Don’t be such a selfish little so-and-so.’ He vanished from their sight.

Ben lowered his boots one by one and said beseechingly, ‘Can’t we go the seaside and see Jimmy?’

‘No, we can’t!’ said Kitty who was angry and determined not to make promises she could not keep.

He made a noise which seemed to come from deep in his boots and slipped his hand into hers. ‘Can I see that monkey again instead?’

Her anger subsided. ‘What monkey?’

‘The one with the little jacket on.’

Teddy groaned. ‘You’re not still going on about that, are you?’ Kitty glanced at him and he muttered, ‘That damn Scottie’s monkey, Ma.’

She had not really needed reminding who it belonged to because the Scottie had popped into her thoughts unbidden several times in the last few days. It was that wink he had given her. It had made her feel attractive, sexy even! Daft as that might seem to anyone with a sensible head on their shoulders.

Ben beamed at her. ‘That’s right. It was a clever monkey collecting money the way it did. Perhaps if you take us to the pictures again we’ll see him?’

‘Ben,’ she said as patiently as she could, ready to explain that there was no guarantee that the monkey would be there even if she could afford a trip to the pictures again so soon.

‘Please?’ he pleaded.

She got down to his level and gazed into eyes which were a purer blue than her own and her heart melted. ‘Perhaps,’ she murmured. ‘If you’re good. We’ll see.’

‘It’s a promise,’ he said jubilantly.

‘No, it’s not,’ said Teddy.

Kitty kissed Ben and ran up the steps. She felt guilty for not going with him and it was an effort not to turn back, but she had a busy day ahead of her.

Ben gazed moodily at Teddy, who grinned. ‘It seems you’re stuck with me, Shrimp. Now let’s git!’ He knuckled Ben in the back, which had the effect of sending him scrambling up the steps and up the Mount in the direction of the workhouse and convent school in double-quick time. Teddy kept at his heels and Ben didn’t dare stop, but he felt more cheerful. The thought of seeing the monkey was like a diamond shining in a dirty gutter and that made him feel less unhappy about Jimmy.

Kitty was thinking about the pictures and money and the Scottie when she reached Ranelagh Place. She eased the basket of fish on her arm and knew she could not really afford the time or the money for another outing to the cinema. Ben might create a fuss but she would have to deal with him firmly. She tried to be a little more optimistic about the control she had over her youngest son but knew herself unable to keep his exuberant nature completely in check. She sighed and looked up at the sky. At least the weather was brightening up, she thought, gazing at a patch of blue revealed by scurrying grey clouds.

She turned the corner into Mount Pleasant and paused outside the pawnbroker’s to gaze at the jewellery on display there. She fingered the locket which had belonged to her mother and hoped things would never get so bad that she would have to pawn it. Its presence was a constant reminder not only of her mother but also of the father who had died so young. She felt sad thinking that she had never really known him and sorry, too, for those poor people who had to pawn even the shirts on their husband’s back to buy food for their children. She wondered how different her life would have been if her father had lived. She might have had brothers and sisters, but in that case there would never have been that special relationship she had shared with her mother, and the Arcadia would never have been hers.

Kitty was about to turn away when she saw reflected in the window two figures on the opposite side of the road. There was something familiar about them but before she could pinpoint who they were they vanished off the edge of the window. She spun round and immediately recognised the Potters. He was carrying a portmanteau and they appeared to be in a hurry.

Her curiosity and suspicions aroused, Kitty crossed the road and followed them along Lime Street. They went inside the railway station and she went in after them, hoping they had not already purchased tickets. Once inside she was relieved to see Mr Potter standing in a queue in front of a ticket window. His wife was several yards away and was holding a small mirror up to her face, applying lipstick. The portmanteau was on the ground in front of her.

Kitty eased the basket on her arm and walked towards her, determined they would not get away with diddling her. She steeled herself and picked up the portmanteau, saying, ‘Going somewhere, Mrs Potter?’ The mirror slipped from the other woman’s fingers and broke into glittering shards on the ground. ‘What bad luck!’ said Kitty sweetly. ‘Seven years of it with a bit of luck.’

Mrs Potter’s arm shot out. ‘Give me that bag,’ she snapped, surprising Kitty by her lack of American accent.

Several heads turned and Kitty tightened her hold on the portmanteau as her eyes searched for a policeman. The other woman reached for the bag with both hands, got a grip and tugged. Kitty felt desperate as the bag began to slip from her grasp and had to let the basket of fish slide down her arm so she could get a better hold.

Then Mr Potter arrived on the scene and Kitty despaired as without a word he began to prise her fingers from the handles. ‘Let me go,’ she gasped. ‘You no good thief!’

With a sharp wrench that hurt Kitty’s shoulders he tugged the bag from her. ‘Come on, Dolly, let’s be going and leave Mrs Ryan to something that smells extremely fishy.’ He grinned, showing all his teeth.

Kitty was furious and pulling the cloth from the basket she took out a fish and threw it at him, knocking his hat askew, but he only paused to straighten it before hurrying on without a backward glance. She reached for another fish but, before she could hurl it, her wrist was seized. ‘Do you mind!’ she said angrily, struggling to free herself.

‘It’s a waste of good fish, lass. If you’re wanting to speak to the man I’ll fetch him for ye.’

If she had not known his face she would have known his voice. Her eyes sparkled up into his. ‘Thanks! I’d appreciate that. He’s a no good thief.’

His expression stilled and for a moment they just stared at each other, then he said, ‘R-rright!’ and released her and went after the Potters.

Feeling as if the battle was already won, Kitty picked up the fish from the ground and placed it on top of the cloth in her basket. The Scottie had caught up with the fleeing couple and she watched with joy as he rammed Mr Potter’s hat down over his ears before spinning him round and relieving him of the portmanteau. He pushed him in Kitty’s direction, accompanied by Mrs Potter who was screeching at the top of her voice.

‘Planning on doing a vanishing trick, Mr Potter?’ said Kitty in a lilting voice. ‘My money, please.’ She thrust her hand beneath his nose.

‘Don’t give her any, Alf,’ screamed Mrs Potter. ‘And you—’ She aimed a punch at the Scottie – ‘You just give me me husband back. Or – or I’ll have the poleece on yer.’

‘Don’t get common, Dolly,’ panted Mr Potter, having managed to free himself from his hat. He eased his collar, scarlet-faced, but obviously trying to maintain some dignity. ‘We’ve been caught so let’s act like civilised beings.’ He took a wallet from an inside pocket. ‘Will you accept two pounds, Mrs Ryan?’

‘You have to be kidding,’ said Kitty. ‘Five pounds minimum.’

‘But you were recommended to us as a charitable woman,’ he protested. ‘And you can sell the trunk. That’ll fetch a bob or two.’ His voice no longer contained an American twang and she realised what a good act he had put on.

‘I still want five pounds,’ she said firmly. ‘You haven’t been the easiest of guests to look after.’

Mr Potter sighed heavily. ‘We had to hock everything to buy our tickets home from the States.’

Kitty strengthened her resolve. ‘Don’t give me any sob stories. I’ve kids to feed. If you wanted charity you should have gone to the Sally Army. Now if you don’t mind – five pounds.’ She twiddled her fingers under his nose.

Mr Potter glanced at the man looming above him and then at the station clock before delving into an inside pocket and bringing out a bag of coins. He counted five pounds onto Kitty’s palm. She thanked him with a radiant smile and indicated to her rescuer that the portmanteau be handed back to its owner. Mrs Potter gave her a dirty look before hurrying away with her hand tucked inside her husband’s arm.

Kitty did a little tap dance before looking up at her rescuer. ‘So that’s that,’ said the Scotsman.

‘Not quite,’ she said boldly. ‘You’re just the man I’ve been looking for and I’d like you to come with me.’

‘How’s that?’

She could see that she had taken him completely by surprise. ‘You have a monkey – and I’m in need of a strong right arm.’ She thought how despite his lack of kilt and doublet he still cut a wonderfully impressive figure in a well-worn Harris tweed jacket and brown corduroy trousers. He was at least six foot two inches. His face was attractive more than it was handsome, but he had a distinctive nose and a rather nice mouth that made her wonder what it would be like to be kissed by him. He was probably in his late thirties.

‘Not mine.’ His smile was puzzled, slightly amused. ‘I’m John McLeod by the way.’

She stretched out a hand which was immediately swallowed up by his in a grasp that was reassuringly firm. ‘Kitty Ryan. I’m in your debt.’ She decided that she had to continue to be bold. ‘Can I offer you a cup of tea and a bite to eat? I have a hotel up Mount Pleasant and was on my way back there when I saw these two doing the equivalent of a moonlight flit.’

He did not hesitate, which pleased her. ‘I’d like that fine,’ he said. ‘Here, let me carry that basket of yours. It looks heavy.’

Even more pleased with him, she handed her shopping over without demur and they began to walk towards the exit. She searched for something to say, wanting discover more about him. ‘You weren’t aiming on catching a train, Mr McLeod?’

‘Trains are for people with money, Mrs Ryan. I was just taking a short cut.’

So he was hard up. ‘You live in Liverpool?’

‘For the moment.’

What did that mean?
she wondered. ‘Are you looking for work?’

‘Not really.’

He had surprised her and she stared at him, wide-eyed. ‘But you were busking! You must be short of cash?’

‘Off and on.’ His eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘You mustn’t concern yourself about me, Mrs Ryan. I have enough for my needs and possessions can be a burden.’

His words flummoxed her because most of her life her mother had instilled in her the need to build a nest and feather it as best she could for her family. But perhaps he had no family? No wife, no children. ‘What did you mean you don’t have a monkey? I saw you with one. Unless, do you have a double, Mr McLeod?’ she said with a touch of humour.

‘Ach! What would God be thinking of making two of me?’ he said with a lazy smile. ‘The monkey belongs to my god-daughter. Her mother has a pet shop near Scottie Road. Tell me, Mrs Ryan, is your hotel anywhere near the size of this one?’ He glanced in the direction of the towering edifice of the Adelphi Hotel.

Kitty’s eyes twinkled. ‘I think you’re trying to change the subject. Do I look that rich? My place could fit into a corner of
that
! Even so I have great plans.’ Her tone was enthusiastic. ‘Although, with one thing and another it isn’t easy.’ She heaved a heartfelt sigh.

There was a silence before he murmured, ‘You don’t have a husband, Mrs Ryan?’

She shook her head and said softly, ‘He died a few years back. Influenza. It was what took my mother a short while ago too.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Me too.’ She smiled up at him and reminded herself that she was going to be bold. ‘Do you have family, Mr McLeod?’

He hesitated. ‘Sort of.’

She laughed. ‘How do you sort of have a family?’

‘They exist but you don’t see much of them.’ A smile lurked in the depths of his hazel eyes. ‘I have a sister in the south who doesn’t approve of me. A brother in Canada whom I haven’t seen since I was four years old. He has a daughter whom I’ve never seen. Then there’s my uncle Donald in Scotland. We correspond. And there’s my grandfather, although he—’ There was an indefinable something in his voice and his smile had vanished.

‘He what?’ she said curiously.

His expression was suddenly less than friendly. ‘Do you always ask a stranger so many questions, Mrs Ryan?’

For a moment she felt as if she had received an unexpected slap in the face and her cheeks reddened. ‘I’m sorry. I was interested that’s all. You aren’t quite—’

‘Respectable?’

‘No! Not my idea of a busker.’

‘You’ve something against buskers?’

‘Did I say that?’ she responded swiftly.

‘Words aren’t always necessary.’

‘If you wish to play in the streets,’ she said in a hoity-toity voice, ‘that is your business but I could think of more comfortable ways of making a living in winter.’

‘I’m sure you could but I like my life the way it is.’ He sounded amused again. ‘Are you sure you want me to come to this hotel of yours?’