The Orphan Daughter

by Sheila Riley

  ‘I’m off to the land of nod, Connie. Don’t stay up too late.’ Connie bit back the reminder that she was thirty years of age and would go to bed when she bloody-well felt like! Instead she said a cheery, ‘goodnight, Mim,’ and carried on reading her book. She would just read to the end of the chapter, then she would turn in. The tavern had been quiet all night and she had locked up early. Connie could relax. If only she could get that damned invitation out of her head…

  ‘Want to join me in a little nightcap?’

  Connie didn’t hear the door open and her head shot up from her book, her tired eyes now wide awake.

  ‘Oh you did give me a fright!’ Connie laughed self-consciously, her heart thudding against her ribs.

  ‘I didnae mean to startle you,’ Angus said and the mischievous look in his eyes told Connie he might already have had a nightcap before he came into the sitting room. ‘I saw the light on, I thought you might like a bit of company?’

  ‘I was just finishing this chapter,’ Connie answered, closing the book and resting it on her lap. She watched as he ambled over to the sofa and, with the grace of a panther, he poured them both a drink. Maybe she would like a nightcap after all.

  His confident nature made Connie feel safe, yet vulnerable at the same time.

  ‘I waited for Mim to settle down.’ His voice was redolent with good breeding: deep, measured, and with perfect enunciation, causing ripples of pleasure that caught her breath. She could listen to Angus all night. ‘She’s late tonight,’ Angus said, rolling the glass in his hands.

  ‘I think she suspects something is going on between us.’ Connie gave him an incredulous look, but just saying the words gave her palpitations. ‘If only she knew we were just putting the world to rights.’ Connie’s words sounded composed, but inside she felt anything but… She had grown to look forward to their nightly chat when Mim retired for the night and the fact that he’d asked her out made her feel he liked her – a lot. But for the last few nights, her mother had taken to staying up later and Connie knew Mim suspected any red-blooded male in their right mind could not resist jumping her bones as soon as her back was turned. The thought caused a small gurgle of laughter to erupt in her throat.

  ‘Care to share?’ Angus asked as he handed Connie her drink. The nightcap relaxed her, and they chatted about this and that as the time just slipped away.

  ‘I thought the war years were exhilarating,’ Connie said, looking down at the drink in her hands, feeling her face suffuse with a heat that was not triggered by the alcohol. ‘I know that’s not how we’re supposed to remember those awful, angry days,’ she said, sipping her drink, savouring the warmth seeping through her whole body. ‘But, with so much devastation, there was also the exciting anticipation of not knowing when your number would be up.’

  ‘Daring death to find you, and so very thankful when it didn’t,’ Angus said in that melodic tenor, urging her to continue, enjoying the radiant beauty in her eyes.

  ‘I’ve never discussed my wartime experiences with anybody,’ Connie said. ‘Yet, it seems the most natural thing in the world to share them with you, Angus.’

  ‘I’m flattered,’ Angus said quietly, emptying his glass and silently offering Connie a refill. She shook her head, refusing another drink. She wanted to tell him about her time in Italy, and she wanted to be clear-headed when she did so.

  ‘Mim wouldn’t understand,’ she whispered. And after a moment’s silence she said, ‘do you want to know a secret?’ Angus nodded, and Connie took a deep breath. She was going to tell him something she had never told another living soul. She didn’t understand why, but she suddenly found it important he should know.

  Maybe she just needed to speak about it. Or, perhaps it was because he was passing through. She would not see him again once he left here. Or, maybe it just felt right.

  ‘I was married in Italy…’ Connie watched his reaction carefully, and knew that if he ever played poker, he would give no clue as to the hand he had been dealt. ‘… In a beautiful little white chapel with no roof – blown off in a raid the day before…’ Her words, like cinders under a door, were scratchy, and she paused for a moment, her throat tightening at the painful memory.

  … Sam had just placed the ring on her finger. His smiling eyes gazing into hers.

  The planes seemed to come from nowhere. Strafing the holy ground with bullets. His hand was still clutching hers as he fell. Sam was dead before he even hit the floor.

  Her own injury led fellow medics to believe she would never have children of her own. The damage caused her to lose the unborn child she was carrying. Sam’s child. When Matron told her she might never carry another child it was of no consequence.

  Sent home when she was strong enough to travel, Connie worked behind the bar of the family pub, and vowed never to nurse again.

  ‘When Mim started asking questions, I told her I couldn’t talk about it…’ Angus reached out and took her hand, sensing how hard it was for Connie to open up like this. ‘My wedding day was far too traumatic to discuss with anybody.’ Connie’s eyes glistened. ‘Married and widowed within moments.’ Silent tears rippled down her cheeks. ‘That’s got to be a record, right?’ She gave a teary half-smile.

  Angus listened in companionable silence, sensing this was the first time Connie had spoken about this immensely important episode in her life. As she talked, he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

  ‘It should have been your new beginning,’ Angus whispered and for the first time since that awful day, Connie felt she could finally talk about the horror of it all.

  ‘As the sun broke through the clouds the following morning, they buried him.’

  ‘I am so sorry you had to go through all that,’ Angus said. Connie nodded, relieved she was able to unburden herself like this. Angus understood completely, letting her talk without interruption. Holding her hand, he showed how much he cared, and Connie was so very glad she had found somebody she could tell it all to, but most of all she was glad that somebody was Angus.

  ‘I didn’t have time to grieve,’ she said, shivering when the grey, dead ashes shifted in the grate. Angus put his arm around her, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to nestle into the warmth of his body and relive her experiences. Now the floodgate of secrets was open, it was almost impossible to close them again. She felt that if she didn’t speak of it now, she never would, and it would eat her up from the inside, and reduce her to a cold, bitter old woman.

  ‘A storm of bullets shattered every stained-glass window of that beautiful church on the hillside,’ she said, re-living the moments. ‘There was an enormous explosion. Everything went black. I was pinned to the floor of the nave by a statue of Saint Jude,’ she gave an ironic laugh. ‘The patron saint of lost causes.’

  With hindsight, and the slow progress of time, Connie felt able to accept the emotional wounds of her past. She had grown a tough layer in a way she never thought possible. ‘I grew strong enough to accept that when my unborn child was taken from me, it was not a punishment from God, as I had always believed.’

  ‘It’s war. Plain and simple,’ Angus said, understanding completely. ‘Man’s inhumane ruthlessness to man has nothing to do with a divine deity.’

  ‘I returned home when I was able and kept the whole tragic event to myself.’

  ‘Mim still doesn’t know?’ Angus asked, gently stroking her cheek.

  ‘Certainly not,’ Connie answered sleepily. ‘It was far too personal to share. The one good thing about serving abroad was that nobody needed to know. Talking about it would have made it real. I wasn’t strong enough.’

  ‘And you are strong enough now?’ His concerned words weaved through her hair and Connie sighed.

  ‘I felt able to tell only you, Angus’

  ‘Then, let’s keep it between ourselves,’ Angus said when Connie looked up into his handsome face, her eyes red-rimmed, ‘I trust you, Angus,’ she said as he gently pulled her close, and Connie knew withou
t a doubt her secret was safe.

  ‘Knowing all this would be the undoing of Mim, she couldn’t keep something so important to herself – she would tell Ada Harris, and before you know it, the whole town would be in on it.’ Connie was surprised at how much she was enjoying this new intimacy between them. She shifted a little and looked at him, really looked. His pale eyes, so full of compassion, held a myriad of comforting words he didn’t need to say. Without speaking she lay her head back down and could hear the rapid beat of his tender heart, confused by the new feelings she was now experiencing.

  ‘Mim raised me to have standards…’ she said as if to herself. ‘And they are high!’

  ‘I bet you never had trouble reaching them.’ Connie could hear the smile in his voice, and it warmed her.

  ‘There’s no rush to be off, is there?’ she said, feeling bolder, and he shook his head, holding her like he was offering her a lifeline – and she gladly took it.

  The blazing coals had long since cooled by the time he finished telling her of the wife he too had lost during the war. They had more in common than Connie thought. He told her about his life as an only child on a small island off the coast of Scotland where his family were crofters. He was silent for a short while, as if mulling over their revelations, and Connie was content to be cocooned in his arms, listening to the soothing beat of his heart.

  ‘I wanted a son,’ Angus said eventually, as if talking to himself, ‘but it was not to be.’

  ‘My arms ached with longing for a child,’ Connie said, ‘but I knew I could never fill them.’

  Feeling the devastating, familiar tug of maternal longing, Connie knew it was getting very late. She reluctantly must go to bed, even though she didn’t want to break their intimate new bond. Understanding. Loving. Angus had captured her heart. And she feared he would hold on for dear life.

  ‘Just a short walk tonight, I think.’ Angus said as Connie unfurled herself. He would have liked nothing better than to stay here, just the two of them. Heaving a great sigh Angus knew he had a duty to take a nightly stroll and telephone to give updates. Then he must ring Liza. Poor, bewildered Liza… The war had not been kind to her.

  ‘Thanks for listening, Angus,’ Connie said, ‘everything is much clearer now.’

  ‘I’m glad,’ he answered, watching her walk barefoot towards her bedroom. She was the most beautiful, enchanting woman he had known for a long, long time. ‘Goodnight, Connie.’

  ‘Goodnight, Angus…’ she said, closing the door.

  Evie gave Lucy a cup of hot cocoa and they settled down, lost in thought, reluctant to leave the fire for the cold rooms upstairs. Jack was still not in from his nightly jaunts to who-knew-where and Evie prayed he was not getting into trouble. Since his leg healed, he was never still.

  ‘Somebody’s ready for her bed,’ Evie said when Lucy yawned, her eyelids growing heavy. Moments later the front door closed with a bang and Lucy’s eyes were wide again. Evie breathed a sigh of relief.

  Red-faced with the cold, he headed straight for the fireplace and steam rose from his damp clothing. Although Evie was wracked with worry, imagining he was up to no-good, she couldn’t bring herself to ask. She might not like the answer.

  ‘I’m done in, so I am,’ Jack said, stretching his back, ‘my bed’s calling me, for sure.’

  ‘I put in two hot bricks wrapped in a pillowcase, to take the chill off the sheets, so be careful where you put your feet.’ Evie said. They couldn’t afford hot water bottles, even if there were any to be had in the shops. So the next best thing was a couple of house bricks, heated on the fire. At one time they would have used the oven shelf, but since gas was so scarce it would take a fortnight to warm up!

  When Jack finished his cocoa, Evie lit the stub of a candle, and Jack took it down the yard to the lavatory, leaving it there overnight, a ritual to stop the pipes freezing. Rinsing the cups under the freezing water, Evie watching Jack from the kitchen window, his second-hand trousers flapping around his ankles. She sighed, wishing she could buy him some that fitted. But her saving were being eaten up.

  How was she going to cope when the money disappeared altogether? She thought her mother would have been home long before now. And there was no sign of any office work. With experienced clerks and office-workers being laid off because of the bad weather, it was impossible to compete.

  Maybe she had been a bit hasty, refusing Connie’s offer. She was their only hope of bringing money into the house. Unlike others, she would not take charity, refusing to go cap-in-hand to the parish priest and beg a handout. Not that they had anything of value. Even Uncle Bill, as the locals called the pawnshop man, would turn his nose up at the stuff her mother left behind.

  ‘Do you think that fella Darnel came back?’ Jack said after Evie told him later about the back gate.

  ‘He wouldn’t dare,’ Evie said, dismissing her brother’s fears. Jack could be a hothead when his family was threatened, and she didn’t want him going in search of trouble. ‘There’s nothing here for him, now Mam’s not here.’

  ‘You let me know if he shows up and he’ll get a puck in the gob he won’t forget in a hurry.’ Jack balled his fists and stood like one of those fairground boxers of the olden days, and even though she laughed, Evie was under no illusions that her brother didn’t mean every word.

  ‘Oh, I forgot!’ Jack said, his eyes bright. ‘I got this for our Lucy.’ He took a small pad of unlined paper and a tin of pencils from under his jerkin. ‘She likes to draw – and she’s good at it, too.’ Lucy, wide awake, jumped off the couch and threw her arms around her brother’s neck, delighted with her rare gift.

  ‘That’s good of you, Jack.’ Evie sounded cautious and alarm bells rang inside her head. Jack didn’t mention where he got them from, she noted. Please, Lord, don’t let him turn into one of those warehouse robbers. That kind of gift didn’t come cheap.

  ‘Don’t worry, Evie.’ Jack could see the worry clouding her eyes. ‘It’s not what you think.’

  He was bound to say that, she thought, holding her head high. ‘How do you know what I think?’ she asked, her words clipped. Jack tapped the side of his nose, his blue eyes twinkling.

  ‘Because, like a Mother Hen, you care too much about us little chicks.’

  The residents of Reckoner’s Row were tucked up indoors and the deserted street was silent, save for the low buzz of one-sided conversation in the red telephone box on the corner.

  ‘There’s still no sign of Rene Kilgaren and I’ve just seen the lad, Jack going into the house.’ Angus McCrae’s words were low, reticent. He kept his back to the small windows of the telephone box. Pulling the brim of his trilby low onto his forehead, his words disappeared into the black mouthpiece of the Bakelite receiver.

  ‘No sign of Darnel, either,’ he said. ‘Although, he’s in the vicinity, there was another dockside robbery last night that had his sticky hallmark all over it. And there’s evidence of a disturbance at the family home, nothing taken – quite the opposite in fact.’

  ‘Does the girl know anything?’ a voice on the end of the line enquired.

  ‘I’m positive she has nothing to do with the transportation or storing of stolen merchandise.’

  ‘Can you be sure?’

  ‘Not as yet,’ Angus said, ‘but they have very little from what I’ve witnessed. They seem trustworthy, not so sophisticated they could lie their way out of something as big as this.’

  He omitted to give any information regarding Jack’s shooting for the time being. Connie told him in confidence. The kids could do without investigators crawling all over their home in search of evidence. Angus was more than capable of handling that side of things himself. ‘Evie and her siblings loathe Darnel, not least because he lured their mother away when she was needed most.’

  ‘In what way?’ asked the tinny voice on the other end of the receiver.

  ‘The girl, Lucy, has been unwell, and Mim – Miriam Sharp, my landlady – has her ear to the ground as far as the
neighbours are concerned. She told me the older girl has no work, so not much money.’

  ‘And they haven’t seen their mother since the elder girl, Evie, came back?’

  ‘Apparently not,’ Angus answered. ‘By all accounts Rene often took a midnight flit…’ He looked around, making sure there was nobody around. Everybody knew the tavern had a telephone. It was the only property in the street that did. Angus knew the residents of the row would find it strange to see him using a public telephone box in this weather. ‘Although, Rene Kilgaren hadn’t left home since she threw Darnel out and brought the children home.’

  ‘Do you think she knows about Darnel’s involvement in the warehouse robberies?’

  ‘Almost certain,’ Angus answered.

  ‘Goodwill to all men, what.’ The voice on the other end sounded amused.

  ‘Something like that.’ Angus knew about Rene’s frugal living conditions. She could be enticed to Darnel’s racketeering ways on the promise of a good time, or money. It wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility.

  ‘Do you think the older girl has any information about Darnel’s activities?’

  ‘I doubt that very much,’ said Angus, looking out towards the deserted street. ‘She has too much on her plate keeping her family together to get involved in anything shady. But Connie – Miss Sharp, said Jack Kilgaren told her the robbers had broken into a bonded warehouse. He saw the weapons on their flat-back lorry when he was collecting wood.’

  ‘Good work, Angus.’ The voice held a satisfied note. ‘He would be a star witness. Someone is bound to slip up, let me know.’

  ‘Will do.’ Angus heard the ping when he placed the receiver onto the cradle and pushing open the stiff, red telephone box door, he made his way back to the tavern.

  Connie’s sweet perfume lingered on the landing, elevating his tired spirits. He was enjoying this assignment and was in no hurry for it to end. A man of habit, he closed his bedroom door and, sitting on the edge of the comfortable single bed, he unfastened his tie and his mind wandered.