Daria's Daughter

by Linda Huber

  Chapter 29

  The library story club was a big hit from the moment Liane and Frith went in and Frith was given a library ticket all of her own. Janet the librarian had arranged a circle of child-sized chairs in a corner of the junior library, and Frith joined a boy and two little girls already sitting there. Liane went off to explore the crime fiction shelves. She was planning to stay in the building, as it was Frithy’s first visit and the poor kid didn’t know another soul, but knowing her, there wouldn’t be any problems. Her daughter was no shrinking violet.

  After a pleasant hour in a comfy chair with a book and a coffee from the machine, a buzz of high-pitched chatter filtered through the library and Liane glanced up. Story time was finished, apparently. And wow, Frithy had found a little boyfriend. Liane grabbed her things and went to investigate.

  ‘We had three stories and we made one up ourselves too!’ Frith’s face was flushed with excitement. ‘Oliver and me were best!’ She beamed at a dark-haired little boy with a snub nose, and he gazed at her adoringly.

  Liane hid a smile. This was what Frithy needed – more friends in the area. Apart from Bridie, there were no kids Frith’s age in the houses around home.

  Janet came over to say goodbye. ‘Coming back next week, then, Frith?’

  ‘Yes!’

  Liane helped Frith with her book selection and her jacket. Oh, there was Oliver’s mum come to collect him; she would go and say hello. Barbara, Oliver’s mum, was as keen as Liane was to organise a playdate, and they settled on lunch at Barbara and Oliver’s on Thursday. Frith’s face was a picture.

  The little girl skipped all the way home, and Liane smiled. This was a good day for her and her girl – story club for Frith this morning, and dinner out with Steve for Liane tonight. Frithy was looking forward to spending the evening with Steve’s brother and his family. They had a trampoline in the garden, and Frith had already spent several happy hours there with Jon and Ella’s kids.

  In their street, Frith bounded ahead to open the gate, then wheeled round again. ‘I want to— Look, Mummy, there’s Margie!’

  Liane turned to see where Frith was pointing. She’d tried three times, but she’d never managed to catch Bridie’s mum at home. The only person in sight was an old woman at the crossing further along the road. She disappeared, heading in the direction of the shops.

  What the—? ‘That can’t be Margie?’

  Frith had never sounded so indignant. ‘Yes, it is. I’ve met her.’

  Oops. A few wires had got crossed here, somehow. Liane walked up the path. ‘Is Margie Bridie’s grandma, then?’

  Frith scowled. ‘No! I told you – she’s Bridie’s mummy, except she calls her Mammy. They’re from Ireland.’

  Liane opened the door. ‘Okay, okay. I’ll pop over soon and say hello.’ And when she’d done that, she’d be able to disillusion Frith properly. A quick chat about the biology of having babies would be a good idea, too.

  Frith spent the next hour playing with her skittles and two of the cats, as Bridie didn’t put in an appearance. Liane fetched her outfit down to iron for that evening’s outing – it was a real butterflies-in-the-tummy thought, a lovely meal out with Steve, just the two of them. She was hanging up her blouse when Frith whooped out that Bridie had arrived.

  Liane switched off the iron. Margie must be home again now, and this was as good a time as any. She grabbed a couple of mini boxes of Smarties for the girls and went out.

  ‘Look, Frithy – why don’t you have a skittles competition? A Smartie for every skittle downed, and see who gets through their packet first. Is, um, your mammy at home, Bridie?’

  Bridie nodded, her eyes widening. Liane left the girls setting up skittles and squeezed through the back fence. She fought her way through Margie’s garden – almost as jungly as theirs – to cross a square of grass that was ninety per cent weeds, most of them dandelions, and ten per cent cat poo in various stages of decomposition where the cats had scratched the weeds away. Liane pulled a face – might be a good idea to start a ‘leave shoes at the back door’ rule at home. Three cats were lying around in the sun behind the house. Liane knocked briskly on the back door. She’d say a quick hello, issue a coffee invite, then scoot home again.

  The door opened and Liane stepped back. An old woman in black trousers and a baggy grey pullover stood glaring at her; it was hard to judge her age but she must have been at least eighty. Sparse grey hair straggled across a deeply furrowed brow, and two bright red spots flamed in pale cheeks. Ill health was written across the woman’s face, and the hand holding the door was trembling. Liane had to make an effort to sound normal. This poor soul didn’t look as if she was strong enough to take care of a little girl.

  ‘Hi – we’ve moved in across the back, and I came to say hello. I’m Liane, Frith’s mum. It’s Margie, isn’t it?’

  A smile flickered and vanished. ‘I saw you cross the grass. Pleased to meet you.’

  Margie’s accent was a pleasant but hoarse Irish brogue. Her eyes met Liane’s briefly before sliding away, and Liane searched for something to say.

  ‘Frith loves your cats. She’s always talking about Marmaduke and, um, Socks and Topsy. She loves playing with Bridie, too. Um, does Bridie always live with you?’ Was that too cheeky?

  Margie’s face stiffened, and Liane hurried to explain.

  ‘It was just – Frith mentioned Ireland. I guess you have family there?’ Heck, this was getting awkward.

  ‘My daughter’s in Dublin. She’ll be back soon, though.’

  That must be Bridie’s mum. Liane seized the chance to leave. ‘I have to get home, but why don’t you pop over for a coffee sometime? I’ll be around most mornings this week. Nice to meet you, Margie.’

  The old woman bowed her head, coughed, and closed the door. Liane returned home the way she’d come, mentally planning her birds and bees chat with Frith.

  Her mobile shrilled out while she was admiring Frith and Bridie’s skittle-playing. An unknown number. Hmm. Liane stepped inside where it was quiet.

  ‘Liane Morton? I’m Alexis Mack, head of hospital administration – we met at your interview on the fourth.’

  Oh, my. Liane’s butterflies returned and crashed around inside her. ‘Ah – hello. I remember, yes.’ What an idiotic thing to say. The phone slid in her hand.

  ‘We’d be very pleased to offer you the job, starting the first of June. There’s a place in the creche for your little girl, too.’

  ‘Wow – I mean, thank you so much! That’s wonderful news.’ Liane spun around the kitchen, her phone pressed to her ear.

  Alexis laughed. ‘Excellent. We’ll send you the contract and all the usual info, and we can take it from there. Welcome to the team!’

  She ended the call, and Liane was about to yell her news to Frith when Steve appeared at the back door. He was way too early, but how was this for good timing – or did he have inside knowledge?

  ‘I’ve got the creche job!’ She burst into tears.

  He put a bottle of Prosecco and a bowl of strawberries down on the table and pulled her into his arms.

  ‘Mummy? Are you crying?’

  Frith was yanking at her sleeve, and Liane pulled the little girl into a group hug. ‘Happy tears! I have a fab new job at the hospital! And there’s a playgroup for you, too. Won’t that be fun?’

  ‘Uh-huh. Ooh – strawberries! Can Bridie and me have some?’

  Liane dabbed her face with a tissue as Steve shook the strawberries into four bowls and opened the Prosecco. He handed over a glass.

  ‘Cheers, Mrs. Well done.’

  Liane kissed his cheek and clinked glasses. ‘I’m glad you came early.’

  He tapped his nose. ‘I may have heard you were being offered the job.’

  She told Steve about the conversation with Margie over crab starters in the restaurant – the best fish restaurant in Glasgow, according to Steve, and it was right on the river bank, so they had a fabulous view from their window table. You didn’t ge
t much more romantic than this.

  ‘I do wonder why Bridie’s staying with her. She seems to be one of those terribly independent old people who’re struggling but won’t ask for help, even when they’re not well.’

  ‘You could go back and check she’s better in a day or two. Frith hasn’t mentioned anything negative about her, has she?’

  ‘No. But I’m worried. Margie was coughing badly, could that hurt Frithy?’

  Steve laid his fork on his empty plate. ‘Frith’s as tough as the next kid these days, don’t worry. And she’s well occupied with Jon and the family tonight.’

  Liane tried to push the worries away and concentrate on the good stuff. At least Tony’d been conspicuous by his absence this week. Hopefully he’d got the message that he couldn’t march in and do what he liked with Frith.

  She reached for the carafe of water and refilled both their glasses. ‘I’m looking forward to the reunion on Friday – I’m glad you can come. I wonder if Daria’s going. She said it was unlikely.’

  Steve sipped. ‘Have you heard anything more from her?’

  ‘No. I may have overreacted, kicking her out like that, but I was really scared, Steve.’

  The waiter removed the starter plates and Liane sat back, shoving the uneasiness about Daria to the back of her mind.

  Day Twenty-Seven – Wednesday 13th May

  Chapter 30

  Margie struggled into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. Bridie’s little voice chatting to the cats in the kitchen floated upstairs, and Margie gritted her teeth. She wasn’t going to let this bug overwhelm her – she had to go down and make breakfast for the family. One, two, three, up, Margie. Her legs had gone all weak and shaky again and everything hurt – she couldn’t do this. Margie clutched her chest, groaning as she collapsed back onto the bed. Oh, to be back in Ireland, where neighbours came to help, not hand out coffee invitations like that other little maid’s mother had the other day.

  Sick at heart, she pulled the blanket back over her, allowing memories to flood into her head. Why was it all so different now?

  Come and watch me swim, Mammy! I can do it, I did ten strokes! Mammy! Sam’s got my rubber ring! Where are the biscuits, Mammy? Margie stretched out a hand to the happy little face, but it wavered into nothing before her fingers touched it.

  ‘Are you sick, Mammy?’

  The beach and Ireland were gone. This was her bedroom, and Bridie was standing beside the bed.

  ‘I’m tired, maid, that’s all. Be right as rain after a rest.’

  ‘I fed the cats.’

  ‘Good girl. Have some bread and jam, and I’ll be down in a minute or two.’

  Bridie thundered downstairs, and Margie closed her eyes again. Maeve would help her sister; they were good little souls.

  A crash from the kitchen had her rolling on her side and sitting up again.

  ‘Bridie? What was that?’

  Silence. She’d have to go and see, but she wasn’t strong enough. Margie staggered two steps before losing her balance and tipping backwards. The bed broke her fall, and she slid down to sit on the floor, leaning against the bed. She moaned. Proper medicine, that was what she needed, but Bridie was too small to make the lemon drink for her.

  ‘Bridie! Come and help!’

  The child’s eyes were round as saucers when she came into the room. ‘Why are you sitting on the floor?’

  ‘Bring me the pills and the pink medicine, there’s a good girl.’

  Bridie ran off. Margie closed her eyes.

  Three loud thumps came from downstairs. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about. Bridie came back with the new packet of aspirin and the Calpol.

  ‘There’s somebody at the door.’

  ‘Just stay quiet, maid. They’ll go away.’

  Three more bangs came, though, and Margie cursed her weak legs. Bridie went over to the window and peeked from behind the curtain.

  ‘It’s a man again. He’s going away now.’

  A man? From the pensions office, no doubt, come to do her out of her money. Margie took a painful swig of Calpol. ‘Good riddance. Bring me a glass of water too, darlin’.’

  She cracked two aspirin from their plastic bubbles and washed them down with water.

  ‘There! Help me back into bed, maid.’

  Bridie wasn’t much help, poor lamb, but she was doing her best. Margie crawled to the top end of the bed, and after a moment she was able to haul her backside up and onto the mattress. It was sleep she needed now.

  ‘You be a good girl for Mammy.’

  ‘Shall I get Frith’s mummy to help?’

  Margie bit back a shriek of protest. ‘No, no. I’ll be fine after a sleep, you’ll see. Come and give me a cuddle.’

  Her Bridie in her arms, and the world was perfect. Some things never changed. ‘Tell me about Ireland, maid.’

  ‘We like going to the beach there. And the water’s cold. We run up and down to get warm and we catch prawns for tea. Do I like prawns?’

  Laughter caught in Margie’s throat, and she coughed. A sip of water helped, then she gave the glass back to Bridie, forcing a reassuring tone into her voice.

  ‘You do. Off you go and play in the garden until I’m down. Be a good girl for your mammy.’

  Bridie’s worried little face cleared. ‘I’ll go and play with Frith in my den.’

  It was thump, thump down the stairs as usual, then the back door banged shut. Margie grabbed the bottle of Calpol from beside the bed and had another few swallows. At last, she could rest. The world swam, and Ireland was back.

  Chapter 31

  Frith brought her cereal bowl to the dishwasher, where Liane was loading in her breakfast plate and mug.

  ‘What are we doing today, Mummy? I want to go and play with Bridie and the cats.’

  Liane emerged from a lovely daydream about Steve and how he was making her feel. If she hadn’t been going to collect her noisy, over-excited daughter yesterday, the evening would have ended with them in bed. After years of being a single mum, she had landed at the ‘My place or yours?’ stage of a relationship, except of course neither was possible without organising something complicated for Frithy. What they needed was a useful grandma in the background – or even a useful daddy.

  ‘I’ve got things to do around the house this morning, but we could go to Rouken Glen in the afternoon, if you like?’ Rouken Glen park was a short bus ride away. It had a brilliant play area for kids and a pond with ducks, not to mention a waterfall.

  ‘Ooh, yes!’ Frith shot upstairs to clean her teeth before vanishing into the depths of the jungle.

  ‘Don’t go out of the garden!’ Liane yelled after her, then ran upstairs to change the beds. She wrestled with duvet covers, then dumped the dirty linen at the top of the stairs. She’d whizz through the bathroom with a cloth before going downstairs again.

  A text from Steve interrupted her when she was stuffing sheets into the washing machine, and Liane sat down to enjoy the moment. Jon says Frith can stay the night on Friday while we’re at your reunion. Think she’d like that?

  Frith would be all for it. I’ll talk to her. Cross your fingers. She sent the message, then glanced outside. Nothing was moving in the garden so presumably Frith was in her den with Bridie or a cat or two. Liane started the washing machine, then called out of the back door.

  ‘Frith! Want some elevenses?’

  It was more like tenses, but no one was counting and an offer of food always brought Frith running. Liane’s phone rang on the table, and her heart rate soared. Steve? She grabbed the phone – no, it was Barbara, Oliver’s mum.

  ‘Hi, Liane, glad I caught you. Have you heard about those kids that are terrorising the little ones in the park here?’

  Liane grabbed a chair and sank into it. ‘No! What’s happened?’

  ‘Another mum just called me about it. Young lads going up to smaller kids and making them hand over their sweeties or skateboards or whatever. Little hooligans – they’re no mo
re than twelve or thirteen, but of course that looks like a big boy to a younger kid. Alice’s daughter lost her skateboard to them. Alice was at the swings with Colin and Poppy was on the path, not twenty yards away.’

  Barbara ranted on and Liane listened, depression settling over her. What was the world coming to when you couldn’t let your kid skateboard twenty yards away?

  Stranger danger, that was another conversation she should have with Frithy. And where was the child, anyway? Liane called from the back door again, but no giggling daughter came into sight. She glared down the garden, searching for a glimpse of yellow T-shirt. Surely the girls would hear a yell, even if they were immersed in their game. Time to investigate.

  A cool breeze was stirring the bushes in the jungle but apart from that, nothing was moving. And no one was giggling, either. Liane arrived at the ramshackle fence and pushed through into Margie’s jungle. No Frith. She went up to the back door and thumped. Marmaduke and two of the more nondescript cats were by the step, but no one answered her knock.

  ‘Margie! It’s Liane – is Frith there? Frithy!’

  Yet again, silence.

  Liane picked her way across Margie’s poo-ridden grass, fear dragging at her gut. Hopefully Miss Frith would be waiting in the kitchen along with a semi-reasonable explanation for all this. A giggle came from behind a large lilac bush at the far end of the jungle. Those monkeys! Liane ducked behind a tree and came face-to-face with Frith and Bridie, sitting on a blanket under the bush with three cats and a packet of Rich Tea biscuits.

  ‘Frith, didn’t you hear me call you?’

  Look at those faces – they’d heard her, all right, and chosen to ignore it. ‘You should always tell me when you’re coming to Bridie’s. I was worried. If I can’t trust you not to leave our garden, you’ll have to play where I can see you. You can stay inside for the rest of the morning. Say goodbye to Bridie.’

  Bridie sat frozen to the spot, and Liane marched a pouting Frith back through their own jungle and into the kitchen. The little girl fled upstairs, and Liane leaned against the sink, relief mingling with guilt. Had she done the right thing? And come to think of it, she should tell Margie about those kids at the park. They could look in at the house before they went to Rouken Glen that afternoon.