Little Girl Lost (46 page)

Kitty had thought this pretty silly but now, eyeing the elegant blonde lady in the fur wrap and expensive leather boots, she realised that Maeve had been right, and was glad of the smart new coat and boots which Brendan had bought, and of her shining, neatly cut curls.

Mother and daughter simply stared. Kitty could not move though she clutched Maeve’s hand convulsively and Sylvie, too, was motionless for a moment. Then she came forward, took both Kitty’s hands in her own, and kissed her cheek. Then she stepped back, her beautiful blue eyes filling with tears even as her mouth curved into a generous smile. ‘Welcome to Liverpool, Catherine Mary, only I believe I’m to call you Kitty,’ she said, her voice trembling a little. ‘The last time I saw you, queen, you were a red-faced, squawking baby, only a few weeks old. But now I see you’re a beautiful little girl and one day you’ll be a very lovely woman. I’m glad and proud that you’ve come to visit me and I promise we’ll see you have a grand time whilst you’re with us. But now we’d best get back to the Ferryman because me mam – that’s your granny, Kitty – has a capon roasting in the oven, and strawberry tart and cream ready on the side. We’ll walk, since you’ve not got a great deal of luggage and waiting for a tram at this time of day can be a lengthy business.’

Then she turned to Kitty’s companions. ‘Maeve, how very pretty you’ve grown! I wouldn’t have recognised you, but of course the last time I saw you you were twelve years old.’ She gave Maeve a hug and a kiss and Kitty, observant as always, saw that Maeve held herself rather stiffly, scarcely responding at all to the embrace. Then Sylvie turned to Brendan and it seemed to Kitty that Sylvie’s whole being relaxed into warmth. ‘Brendan, my dear,’ she said, and her voice had a sort of throaty purr. ‘I’ve been so anxious that Maeve or Kitty might have changed their minds, decided not to come, but I should have known better; you wouldn’t have broken my heart in such a way.’

Kitty saw the tide of colour rise in Brendan’s face, saw how he shuffled his feet, and wondered why he should be so obviously embarrassed. But then Sylvie tucked her arm into his elbow, Maeve took Kitty’s small paw, and they headed away from the quayside and towards what Kitty assumed to be the Dock Road.

Sylvie had been pleasantly surprised by her daughter’s appearance, though she had been unable to stop herself from thinking, sadly, how different the meeting might have been had Becky been alive. Her older daughter had had golden hair and blue eyes; Kitty’s eyes were green and her hair chestnut brown, but their faces and movements were very similar indeed. This was not surprising since they were half-sisters, yet it had shocked Sylvie for a moment so that she had simply stared at her small daughter instead of rushing forward and kissing her, as she had planned. She had been aware that the child had not responded when she had hugged her, but told herself that this was natural. She and Kitty were strangers; she thought they should spend the next few days getting to know one another, and even if love was too much to hope for, perhaps liking and friendship could follow.

But if Kitty had been a bit of a shock, Maeve had been even more of one. Sylvie remembered Maeve very well indeed, as a skinny, hunched-up, crippled child, dependent upon a crutch, and plain as a boot with draggly limp dark hair, a pale little face and a brogue so thick that at first she had had difficulty in understanding a word the child had said. Yet now, what a contrast! Maeve stood almost as tall as Sylvie herself and straight as an arrow, with no sign of the awkward limp which had contorted her body years ago. Her dark hair was cut short and curled crisply round a small elfin face, and her eyes, which Sylvie had never particularly noticed before, were large, deep blue, and framed with dark and curly lashes.

And she was young! For the first time in her life, Sylvie was suddenly conscious that she herself was no longer a girl. Oh, she felt like a girl, considered herself a girl, but seeing the freshness of Maeve’s skin, the shyness of her smile, Sylvie knew that she herself was a woman of the world. She had not undergone the privations which Maeve had known, but her life had never been easy, not since Len’s accident, at any rate. But she comforted herself with the recollection that Brendan loved her and that Sam had loved her too, once.

As they walked back towards the Ferryman, she chatted easily with Brendan, now and again turning her head to include Maeve and Kitty in the conversation, but all the time her thoughts were elsewhere. She had advertised in the Southampton paper, but so far had received neither a reply from Sam himself, nor word from some friend or shipmate telling of Sam’s death. She knew of course that being a seaman he could easily have taken a berth and sailed to foreign parts, but if he had done so, surely he would have written?

‘Here’s the Ferryman.’ Brendan’s cheerful voice as he turned his head to address Kitty and Maeve broke into her thoughts. Sylvie followed his glance and thought that, compared to Handkerchief Alley, her home should really impress the young people from Ireland. With its fresh coat of paint, and the bar door open and her mother framed in it, one could tell at a glance that this was a popular and prosperous place. Sylvie remembered how shocked she had been on first entering Handkerchief Alley, and looking over her shoulder saw that Maeve’s large eyes had rounded in appreciation and that Kitty, too, seemed impressed. We’ve done all right, me, Mam and Bertie, she thought as she ushered her companions in through the open door. It’s been hard work but we’ve done all right.

Maeve and Kitty were given a large, airy bedroom which had once belonged to old Mrs Dugdale, but it had been freshly whitewashed, newly carpeted – a great luxury – and there were flowers on the dressing table. The only thing missing, Maeve thought, was a washstand, but this was explained when Sylvie took them a little further along the corridor to where there was a proper bathroom. Maeve gazed at it with awe and knew that Kitty was doing the same. The floor was covered in dark blue linoleum. There was a large hand basin, an enormous lavatory with a mahogany seat set on a small dais, and a wonderful bathtub. There was a strange contraption on the wall above the bath and Sylvie explained that this object was called a geyser. It was powered by gas which one had to light with a long taper – she demonstrated – and after a few moments you turned one of the big silver taps and hot water gushed forth. Maeve, admiring it, thought she would never dare use it, though Sylvie said it was safer than it looked and hardly ever blew up. ‘I’ll come and run it for you until you’ve grown used to it,’ she said kindly, and Maeve saw Kitty’s face become troubled and realised it was because of the implication that they were meant to stay until the geyser no longer frightened them. And that would be a mortal long time, she thought, and gave Kitty’s hand a quick squeeze. As soon as Sylvie had finished giving them the tour of inspection, they would go to their room and then they could discuss freely what they had seen.

When Maeve had first set eyes on Sylvie as they crossed the quay to her side, she had been surprised by the change in her. Sylvie was still as beautiful as Maeve remembered her, but there were lines on her forehead which had never been there before. And you could tell that she knew her way around and was a capable and businesslike person. She’s grown very much harder, Maeve thought, which is odd because I used to think her selfish. But it isn’t selfishness I read in her face now so much as a determination not to let anything stand in her way. It’s easy to see she means to marry Brendan, but I’m not at all sure that she loves him. Well, I shall watch carefully and make up my mind what to do – not that I mean to stay here, nor to persuade Kitty to. But – but I’m real fond of Brendan, so I am, and I’m not at all sure he would enjoy being a pub landlord. Brendan isn’t hard, for all his size and strength; he’s as soft as cream cheese. Still, if he’s really deeply in love with Sylvie, then not all the persuasion in the world will make him leave Liverpool and return to Ireland.

Presently, she found herself alone with Kitty in their bedroom and they began to unpack the few clothes they had brought with them and hang them in the large wardrobe. As they worked, Maeve glanced interrogatively across at the child. ‘Well? What do you think? I told you your mother was beautiful and it was true, wasn’t it? And the Ferryman is a thriving business, so your mother isn’t short of money. Did you see the photograph of Becky on the mantelpiece in the parlour, when your mam showed you where they sit when they’ve got company? I never met her but it did strike me how very alike the two of you are. It’s awful sad because you’re half-sisters and I’m sure you would have been great friends. I know you don’t want to stay in Liverpool and I don’t blame you, but it might be a kindness to your mam to say you’d come over, say twice a year, and spend a couple of weeks with her. Would you like to do that?’

‘No I would not,’ Kitty said baldly. She was changing out of the old dress which she had worn under her green serge coat into a grey pleated skirt and white blouse, but now she stopped buttoning the blouse to stare defiantly at Maeve. ‘You think she’s beautiful . . . Sylvie I mean . . . but I think she’s cold, and nowhere near as pretty as you, Maeve. As for Becky being me half-sister, I’ve got two half-sisters already, Clodagh and Grainne. I know you say they’re not me half-sisters but that’s how I think of them, so I do.’

‘Yes, I know what you mean, but in fact you and Clodagh and Grainne aren’t blood relations, whereas if Becky hadn’t died . . .’

‘Oh, Maeve, do stop it,’ Kitty said irritably. ‘I know I’m only a kid but you’ve always said I’m sensible, and I am! If Becky hadn’t died, I’d never have come here – never have met Sylvie, let alone her precious daughter. She only wants me because she’s lost Becky, and she only wants Brendan because that Len of hers is dead.’

‘Oh, alanna, that isn’t true,’ Maeve said, horrified by the child’s cynical remark. ‘I know it looks like that but it really isn’t fair to judge on such a short acquaintance. I suggest we keep our eyes open and our mouths closed for at least three days and then we’ll talk the matter over again. Only, one thing I must say. I truly believe that Sylvie and Brendan loved each other even when her husband was alive, but of course they could do nothing about it, not then. It would have been dishonourable, and Brendan is an honourable man.’

Regrettably, Kitty gave a loud snort. ‘Well, darling Maeve, don’t try to pretend that my mammy is an honourable woman because you know very well that Len Dugdale wasn’t my father, but some other feller,’ she said roundly. ‘And that’s dishonourable if you like.’

Maeve stared at Kitty as though she had never seen her before. ‘I know what you say is true, but it all happened a long time ago and – and Sylvie’s a different person from the one who ran away to Ireland all those years back,’ she said gently. ‘Try not to hold it against her, alanna, otherwise this whole trip will have been a waste of time.’

‘So it is,’ Kitty muttered, but then she must have noticed that she was upsetting her companion for she flung both arms round Maeve’s neck and kissed her cheek resoundingly. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but I’m all mixed up,’ she gabbled. ‘You’re right, I’ve come over here which means I’m willin’ to give it a try, so I’ll do just as you say: I’ll keep me eyes open and me mouth shut for three days and forget me mammy abandoned me all those years ago and then we’ll talk again.’

‘That’s my good little girl! But remember, your mammy had no choice but to abandon you. She couldn’t take you back to Liverpool because you were the living proof that she’d been unfaithful to her man, and she paid towards your keep for a long time, you know, even though she was nursing a sick husband and bringing up her other little girl.’

Kitty had been hanging her coat in the wardrobe, but turned at these words. ‘No one ever told me before that my mam paid Auntie Cait towards my keep,’ she admitted. ‘Then she must have loved me a little, because she could easily have just walked away. I’m glad you told me, Maeve, because it shows she’s not all bad and I did think that a good person like Brendan wouldn’t go falling in love with a really bad one.’

Maeve felt the warm colour flood into her cheeks and bent her head to stare intently down at the jumper she was folding. ‘Yes, you’re right, of course Brendan is a very good person. But sometimes men do fall for a pretty face and scarcely notice the character behind it. But I’m sure that isn’t the case with Sylvie. She may have been heedless in the past, when she was young, but she’s changed a lot.’

Kitty shot her a quick glance and began to speak, then bit the words off short and headed across the room towards the door. ‘I’ve hung up all my stuff so I’m going down to see if I can help get some dinner, ’cos I’m starving, so I am,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I like that Mrs Davies, so I do; she wants me to call her Granny, but like you said, I’ll have to get to know her better first.’

For the rest of the day Kitty was unusually silent because she had so much to think about. When they had crossed the water, she had been full of both excitement and apprehension at the thought of meeting her real mother, of visiting a great city and of seeing all the sights, for both Brendan and Maeve had impressed upon her that this was to be a sort of lovely holiday and that her mother meant to give her a grand time. Sylvie had written to her and had said she meant to take Kitty to the big stores in the city centre and kit her out with some really nice clothes. She said they would visit theatres and cinemas, parks and museums, and any other places of entertainment that Kitty would like to see. Consequently, Kitty’s mind had ranged ahead during the voyage on the ferry, and she had not thought very much about Maeve and Brendan, save to be glad that they were clearly good friends.

Then they had met Sylvie on the quayside, and when she had tucked her arm into Brendan’s so possessively Kitty had happened to glance at Maeve and had seen the stricken look on her friend’s face. At the time, she had merely thought that Maeve had resented being virtually ignored by Sylvie, who had once known her well, but later she had wondered if it were not something more. And just now, in the bedroom, she had read something in Maeve’s face which she had not wanted to see. For the naked pain had spoken volumes; Maeve did not like the thought of Brendan falling into Sylvie’s hands any more than Kitty did.