Little Girl Lost (38 page)

He disappeared and presently returned with a spade and an implement that he told Kitty was used for cutting turf. ‘You take this because it’s lighter,’ he said, handing her the strangely shaped tool, ‘and I’ll take the spade, and soon it’ll be as though we were never here.’

Kitty began to work, then stopped short, glancing round wildly. ‘Nick, where’s Tommy? I’ve not seen him since we first arrived in the clearing. Oh, poor feller, he must have made off when he saw Jacky beating the old girl.’

She began to call the cat’s name, but Nick shushed her impatiently. ‘He’ll turn up. He’s probably gone off to hunt himself some food,’ he assured her. ‘Cats don’t like folks fightin’ an’ swingin’ cudgels, but don’t worry, he’ll be back.’

‘I do hope you’re right,’ Kitty said dolefully. ‘I can’t bear to think of Tommy lost and alone.’

The two children set to work, and soon they were satisfied that they had left no trace of their recent occupation. Then they returned to the caravan and drove until they came to open heath, and here Nick decreed that they should stop and eat. They were now both so hungry that they could have devoured the vegetables raw, but this was not necessary. Nick lit a fire, using some dry wood he had found under the caravan as kindling, and very soon they were tucking into a vegetable stew, though Granny Trotter was only able to drink the broth. Throughout the meal, Kitty kept glancing behind, hoping to see Tommy’s small figure coming purposefully towards them, but there was no sign of him. Nick joked that he was unlikely to reappear for vegetable stew but would undoubtedly turn up when they fried the bacon; he had decided that they’d save this for another day since, as he pointed out, there were vegetables enough to last a week, but meat was not something you could nick from a farmer’s field when no one was about.

Since they had no particular destination in mind – though Nick had said vaguely that they must get as far away from Dublin as they could – they simply let the horse take whichever path across the moor appealed to him. Nick tried to ask Granny to point out a good spot to spend the night but she merely gave him a malevolent glance out of the only eye she could open; the other was black and blue, the lids so swollen that it remained closed, giving her the appearance, Kitty thought, of a pirate in a storybook.

‘I can’t t’ink straight wit’ me poor body broken in a dozen places, like as not, and me half blinded an’ achin’ in every limb,’ she grumbled. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if I upped and died in the night, so you’ll have to make up your own mind where you stop. Only mek it soon ’cos the joltin’ o’ the cart is likely to kill me, else.’

Nick shrugged. ‘Right. I can see trees on the horizon so we’ll make for them. If there’s a stream and a bit of cover, we’ll stop there.’ He left the caravan, gesturing to Kitty to follow him, and they both went to the horse’s head and began to lead him towards the distant clump of trees. ‘If her arm’s really broke, then I reckon we ought to take her to see a doctor whether she likes it or not,’ Nick said in a low tone. ‘She took a terrible beating, Kitty, and I don’t fancy having another corpse on our hands. How bad is she, do you think?’

‘I don’t really know, but I think she’s pretty tough. After all, she told us about Jacky without once getting muddled, so her brain’s all right,’ Kitty said. ‘But she is awfully old and I reckon she knows she’ll need help until her hurts heal, so she’ll do her best to keep us on her side. But she must be hurtin’ quite bad, so I ’spect that’s what’s making her niggly and cross. But oh, Nick, it’s such a relief to have the ’van to sleep in and the horse to pull it along, I think we’ll just have to put up with Granny Trotter’s crossness for a bit.’

Nick agreed that this would be sensible, adding that the old woman’s temper would doubtless sweeten as her hurts healed. ‘You want to see whether she’s got any cures for bruises and wounds in them cupboards in the ’van, ’cos they do say tinkers have remedies for most t’ings, and do all their own doctoring,’ he said. ‘You can do it when we settle down for the night, ’cos you can’t go spreading a salve on a wound when you’re being jolted and jounced.’

Kitty agreed, and presently they reached the spinney and found that it was an ideal camping site. The trees were pines, bent against the wind, and when they backed the caravan into their shelter they discovered that a stream ran nearby. Nick unharnessed the horse – Granny Trotter told them its name was Tugger – and hobbled him since they had no wish to discover, next morning, that their sole means of conveyance had gone off on some private spree. Then he fetched a couple of buckets of water and returned through the trees with Kitty trotting beside him. As they approached the caravan, Kitty looked hopefully round once more; surely Tommy had not turned back? Nick would say the cat’s home was in the Liberties, that cats were attached to places and not to people, but she knew he was wrong. Tommy had accompanied them for miles and miles and probably had no more idea than she had of how to return to the city. She wondered whether to suggest that they should go back to look for him, but this would mean revisiting the clearing where Jacky’s body lay. So she said nothing but followed Nick up the steps and found Granny sitting up and looking a good deal more cheerful. She held a bottle in one hand and a cup in the other and she actually smiled at them as they entered. ‘It’s me elderberry wine; it’s grand for pains, so it is,’ she informed them. ‘How about makin’ a fire in the stove so’s we’ll be warm overnight?’

Kitty looked hopefully at Nick; it would be fun to light a fire in the little black stove and she imagined that Granny would feel the cold more because of the battering she had received, but Nick shook his head. ‘Not tonight; we’ll need the dry wood to cook our breakfast porridge tomorrow morning,’ he pointed out. ‘I see you managed to get out of bed to fetch your elderberry wine.’

Granny looked somewhat self-conscious. ‘It weren’t easy, but the two of youse weren’t around to give an old woman a hand and the pain drove me,’ she mumbled. ‘Well, if you won’t light me a fire in me stove then I’ll take another swig o’ this to warm me.’

She waved the bottle at them as she spoke but Nick stepped forward and removed it from her grasp, despite her indignant wail. ‘No you don’t, Gran,’ he said grimly. ‘We’ll have you drunk as an owl if you keep on guzzling strong liquor. Kitty’s goin’ to see if she can find something to spread on your bruises so I’ll mek meself scarce while she does that.’

Granny sniffed but raised no more objections, and presently Kitty began to spread an evil-looking concoction over the old woman’s hurts. When this was done to Granny Trotter’s satisfaction, she tucked the old woman up warmly and went and called Nick. For a moment there was no answering hail and Kitty’s heart began to beat fast, but then she saw Nick’s small figure approaching from the direction in which they had come. He must have seen her watching, though dusk had fallen, for he quickened his pace. ‘I were just takin’ a look round to see what I could see,’ he said guardedly. ‘You sleep on the bench, Kitty; I’ll curl up on the floor wit’ me blanket an’ one o’ them pillows.’ He shot Kitty a quick glance, then gave her hand a comforting squeeze. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘cats is independent. He’ll find us again when he’s good and ready.’

Kitty sniffed, hating the thought of curling up to sleep without Tommy’s warm body vibrating gently against her. She imagined him returning to the clearing, finding the caravan gone, casting about wildly, and perhaps being attacked by badgers or foxes, or even by farm dogs . . . were there wolf packs in Ireland still? She did not think so, but there were many other perils for a small cat who suddenly found himself alone in the world.

She buried her head in her cushion and felt tears begin to fall from her eyes, but then she gave a watery chuckle. Little cat, indeed! Tommy was a very large cat and he had very sharp claws and excellent teeth. He would be all right; he had to be all right. Sighing, Kitty disposed herself for sleep.

Chapter Fourteen

Brendan had meant to pursue Maeve on foot and, indeed, he would have done so had it not been for the twins. They had pointed out that Maeve had a good three or four hours’ start on him. ‘And she’ll have hurried because she’s desperate keen to get her precious Kitty back,’ Fergal had opined. ‘You’d best catch the bus.’

It had seemed like good advice and Brendan had taken it, but it had meant another half-hour wasted while he waited for the vehicle to start and then the journey almost drove him mad, for the bus was crowded with country folk and their belongings and it stopped at every lane, cottage and tiny hamlet, picking up and putting down with such frequency that Brendan thought he would have been a good deal quicker on foot.

Arriving at the village nearest the spot where Timmy Two-Shoes had told Caitlin he had seen the kids and the cat, he climbed thankfully down. There was no sign of Maeve, and he asked an old man sitting on a bench whether he had seen a young woman with a crutch. The ancient replied, balefully, that the only people he had seen had just got off the bus.

So Brendan swung along the road, enjoying the gentle warmth of the sun, and thinking about Sylvie. She was very alone right now, and very vulnerable, but she must have known that he had loved her from the very first night they had met. She had been too honourable to even think of returning his regard, for she had been a married woman, but now she was a widow and could follow her heart. If he went back to Liverpool to report that he had found Kitty, safe and well, surely she would show her relief and delight. Then he would declare himself and she would agree to marry him and they would live happily ever after. His imagination working overtime, he could actually feel her slim body in his arms, touch the silken floss of her pale hair and see the love for him shining out of her big, blue eyes. He walked on without so much as glancing to left or right. After some miles he remembered, with a pang of dismay, having passed a neat little bakery close by an inn of some description. Damn, I could have bought meself a meat pie or gone into the pub for a pint of ale and a sandwich, he thought, dismayed. But that was what happened if you let your imagination run away. He could go back, of course, but he did not want to lose any more time and there was doubtless another village not too far ahead. Resolutely, Brendan strode on.

Maeve was in the bakery buying tea brack when a movement outside in the street caught her eye. She turned her head, the way one does, then froze, for she recognised the passer-by instantly. It was Caitlin’s cousin, Brendan O’Hara!

Maeve shrank against the counter, holding her breath, then glanced quickly away, afraid that her gaze might be felt by Brendan and cause him to look her way. Her fears were needless. Brendan had a half-smile on his face and he was striding out as though he was in a hurry. Maeve had guessed he would try to find her but had not worried overmuch since she had been careful not to give anyone even the vaguest idea of where she was bound. In fact, it had not occurred to her, until she had actually reached this village, that there was one person who knew all too well where Kitty, Nick and Tommy had been seen. Timmy Two-Shoes! Brendan would not know him from Adam, but Caitlin and Timmy were old friends. If Brendan were to ask for information, Timmy would clam up or even lie, but if it were his old friend Caitlin, who had made him cups of tea and fed him with hunks of gur cake, that would be different. Timmy would tell her anything, and why should he not? So if Brendan were here – and he plainly was – it would be because Caitlin had got information from old Timmy.

Maeve sighed and turned towards the door just as the baker came back into the shop. He carried some soda bread and a loaf of brack, all of which he placed upon the counter. ‘Here y’are, alanna; they come out of the oven no more’n ten minutes ago,’ he said jovially. ‘I’ll pop ’em into the bag, but you’d best leave it open till they cools.’

Maeve thanked him and produced her money, and was quite glad of the delay when he had to go next door to the pub to get change, for it gave her the chance to consider what she should best do. Brendan was ahead of her and would doubtless draw further ahead as the day advanced. But he was hunting for her, she realised, and not for the runaways. He had never seen Nick or Kitty so would not recognise them even if they walked slap bang into each other; though if they still had Tommy with them she supposed they might be identified by the cat. However, the children had a good start on them; she reckoned it would take her at least a week, and maybe more, to catch up with them, especially as she would have to ask everyone she met if they had seen a couple of lads and a cat. The only description of the ‘boys’ which Timmy had been able to give her had been that the younger of the two wore a faded blue jersey. But, as yet, it was only the cat which folk remembered.

So what to do? Finally, she decided that, for the moment at least, she would simply continue on her way, questioning everyone she came across. If she caught up with Brendan, which seemed unlikely when she compared his pace with hers, then they must have a truce. She would explain slowly and carefully that Kitty must not be taken back to her birth mother against her will. She would remind him that there was no written proof that Kitty was Sylvie’s daughter, because she was pretty sure that Sylvie had given a false name when she had registered the birth. Yes, she remembered now that the authorities had been told the child’s name was Catherine Mary O’Keefe, which was how she had been known throughout her short life.

‘Thanks, m’ dear. Here’s your change.’

Maeve jumped. She had been so intent on her own thoughts that the baker’s return had taken her by surprise, but she took the money, crammed her purchases into the bag which contained her nightdress, a clean blouse and skirt and some underwear, thanked the baker and left the shop. She had already asked in the village and knew that Timmy had been right; the children had passed this way, complete with cat, though no one was able to say how long ago this had been. But at least she knew she was on the right track.