Danny’s pale face grew even more ashen and he put out a hand as if to wave away the very suggestion that his mother should take up the cudgels on his behalf. Seeing this, Kate at once reassured him.
“It’s all right, son. I’m not that daft. Anyway, if I know my own Danny Boy, I think you’ve already made up your mind as to what you want to do with your life. Am I not right on that score?”
Danny’s face coloured painfully and with his mass of spots thus highlighted, somehow he seemed even more than usually vulnerable.
“I think,” Kate said, “knowing you as well as I do, I could make a good guess at your secret ambition in life. You’d like to run away and join the soldiers. You fancy yourself in a uniform and wearing it as far away from the Candleriggs as possible. Is that right son?”
“Mammy, you’ve got the wrong uniform. I do want to run away, that’s true enough. But I want to go to sea. I’m set for a sailor boy, that’s me.”
Kate’s eyes widened in amazement.
“A sailor indeed. My, my, and that’s very strange, for nobody in my own family back in Ireland ever went anywhere near the sea, far less wanted to sail on it.”
Kate sat lost in thought for a few minutes, gazing at a past which only she could see.
“And now my son, my first-born and now my only son, wants to be off to sea. Forgive me for saying it son, but especially after what happened ... the accident and that, you must be really keen, that’s all I can say.”
After further discussion, Daniel agreed not to rush headlong into the sea-going idea, but to save it for later. He yielded to her wish that he would hang on for another six months or so in the hope of getting a shore job to his taste. But if nothing turned up during that spell, then, yes, he could go to sea and with her full understanding and blessing.
Chapter 6
Kate had always got on well with the local shopkeepers and not just on account of her always paying her bills strictly on time. She was always able and happy to pass the time of day, inquire after the shopkeeper’s family, and generally be sociable. With her pleasant personality, courteous manner, and soft Irish brogue, over the years, she had gained not only friendship but also various perks from the shopkeepers. It was not unknown for an extra tomato, a chipped egg, or even a wee bag of broken biscuits for Hannah to be slipped into Kate’s basket by a friendly shopkeeper.
Shopping, after her session with Daniel, the local newsagent had asked: “That young lad of yours still not got a job, Mrs Kinnon?”
Kate shook her head sadly.
“No, nothing doing so far. But at least it’s not for the want of trying, Mr McGregor.”
The newsagent nodded.
“Oh, fine well I know that, Mistress Kinnon. He’s a grand lad. Not an idle bone in his body. Not like some of the layabouts round here. Some of that lot will neither work nor want. Mind you, it must be said, times is hard.”
Kate agreed and Mr McGregor went on: “The thing is this, and I wouldn’t say this to anybody else, but I know you’re a lady of discretion. I’m beginning to feel my age a wee bit. I could do with an assistant. and with my own boy away, emigrated to America, I’ve no family to help. I’ve been thinking I could maybe train up a likely lad like Daniel ... if he took to the business, that’s to say. What would you think of the idea?”
“Oh, Mr McGregor, do you mean it, sir?”
The kindly face beamed and his chins wobbled as he laughed.
“Too bloody right I mean it, if you’ll pardon my French. I’m getting too old for all this early-rising carry on. Between that and having to look after my invalid wife. Anyway, don’t take this the wrong way, Mistress Kinnon, but I’ve an idea that as well as helping me, the extra money wouldn’t go far wrong in your own household these days, am I not right?”
Kate, choked with emotion at the man’s offer, had to swallow several times before she could trust herself to speak.
“Extra money useful, did you say? Man, you never spoke a truer word. Especially as ...”
The newsagent finished the sentence for her.
“Especially with your husband being the way he is now? Not able to work and that. Does the Panel Doctor hold out any hopes for him?”
“He won’t hear of going to the doctor. Says a doctor can’t do anything for what ails him. The death of his lovely Wee Isabella has gutted him and left him unable to concentrate on anything else. That’s how he lost his job at the Fruit Market; he made mistakes in his figures.” Kate sighed. “For all that he’s a big man, he’s no labourer. He wasn’t brought up to it. When we came here first, he tried heavy jobs, but he wasn’t fast enough or strong enough ... Now, he scarcely leaves the house. He doesn’t even read any more. Just sits in front of the fire for hours staring into space, ignoring everyone. Mind you, that’s better than his raging tempers over nothing.”
“Well, then, my dear, just you send young Daniel along. We’ll make a newsagent of him yet. Just you see if we don’t.”
Again, Kate thanked him profusely and was on the point of leaving when Mr McGregor exclaimed: “Oh, I nearly forgot. I’ve another wee snippet of news for you, my dear.
“As you know, I put those wee adverts in the window as an obligement for folk ... well. they do bring me in an odd shilling as well. Anyway, when a Mrs Delaney came in with her wee message about wanting to rent a room in a good God Fearing household, well, I thought of you right away. I said to the good lady I wouldn’t bother displaying her advert but instead I would give her your address and tell you to expect her round to have a word with you. So, she’ll be round to see you on Saturday night. The arrangement might turn out to be mutually agreeable and beneficial. Anyway, Mrs Kinnon, you can see what you think once you’ve met the widow-woman and made your own judgement.”
“Oh, Mr McGregor,” Kate said, “you’re far too good to me. Such kindness I’ll never forget. Never, even if I live to be a hundred – which God forbid.”
With loud cries of thanks being heaped on his head, the balding, rotund newsagent blushed like a discomfited teenager. To hide his embarrassment, he waved her words away, at the same time thrusting into her hands a couple of bars of Highland cream toffee.
“Here, away with ye woman, yer haverin that ye are. Take these toffee bars out to Hannah, for fine well I know that she always likes her wee sweet bite.”
Kate left the shop and flew home on wings of hope pushing al enthusiastically-sucking Hannah in her now too-small go-chair. The poor child now seemed to be all knees and elbows in the rickety old pram and her head lolled like a puppet’s with the movement of the wheels. As she so often did, Kate talked to Hannah as they went along the busy streets. She would point out to her the strong Clydesdale horses pulling the heavy -laden carts, the tram cars with their important sounding bells, the many street traders who not only trundled their barrows, but who often had a distinctive cry for their wares, like the fish-wife, who announced her coming with loud blasts on her bugle. Hannah particularly enjoyed the fish-wife’s bugle and it kept her entertained just searching the busy streets in the hope of catching a sight of the sack-cloth aproned woman, wearing a man’s flat bunnet. Best of all, and what really tickled Hannah’s fancy, was when she spotted a horse doing its business in the middle of a stream of traffic.
They had now entered a quieter side street and to keep Hannah amused, Kate started telling her all about the latest news. The fact that poor Hannah perhaps recognised, far less understood, only about one word in thirty was not important, the point was that Mammy was talking and paying attention to her and that, Hannah loved.
“What do you make of that, Hannah, my love? Our Daniel’s to get a job and real training for to become a man of business. And your old Mammy ... well, she’s maybe going to be getting a lodger. My, things are really looking up, eh?”
Already Kate’s mind was racing ahead of her as she made plans for the prospective and as yet still-to-be-met lodger.
Beaming with happiness, she gazed fondly at the sticky mess which was no
w Hannah’s face.
“I’ve got it all arranged in my head already, Hannah. Here’s what we’ll do. Since your Dadda now spends all his time in the back kitchen anyway, we’ll all move in there. That will leave the good front room for Mrs Delaney. Is that not a great idea, Hannah?
“Well, now, we had best get our skates on. I’ve still got a lot of work to do. Especially if I’m to get the best front room ready for my lodger. I’ll have to get it looking really nice so that the widow-woman likes it and wants to become my lodger. So, maybe I’d better not count my chickens just yet awhile. Oh, dear Lord above, please let the widow-woman like the room and agree to take it. I don’t care how hard I have to work. I’ll work my fingers to the bone, that I will, but please let it happen.”
Chapter 7
As had been previously arranged, Mrs Josephine Delaney turned up at Kate’s door on the following Saturday afternoon, by which time Kate had cleaned the best front room from top to bottom. Not only had she rearranged the furniture to the best advantage, but also she had polished the old wardrobe to within an inch of its life, and, from a length of material bought at a jumble sale, she had even made opulent new curtains with which to frame the inset wall-bed. Then as a last, pretty little touch, the previous evening she had crocheted a couple of small doyleys which she then arranged tastefully on the knee-hole dressing table.
Kate bustled around putting the final touches to the best front room. Finally, she rubbed down the dark, wood-grained varnish of the door and as a grande finale, gave a ceremonial flick of her duster at the picture of Highland stags at bay in pride of place over the fireplace. That done, she stood back and, hands on hips, surveyed and admired her handiwork. She nodded her self-satisfaction.
Yes, Kate, my girl. It will do very well. I’m sure there’s not a finer, nor a cleaner room to rent anywhere in the whole of Candleriggs. Come to think of it, even if Mrs Delaney doesn’t like it or want it after all, then there are plenty more herring in the sea.
On that happy and positive note, she then went into the kitchen to attend to Pearce and make him a cup of tea, while she awaited Mrs Delaney’s arrival. They had just finished their tea and scones when the door knocker sounded. As if shot from a cannon, Kate leapt to her feet and almost ran to the hall in her eagerness to open the door, so anxious was she to start on this new phase of her life. She opened the door and there on the landing stood a tall, striking-looking woman whose very bearing pronounced she was a lady of quality. It took all of Kate’s will power not to give a quick bob of a curtsey, as she had been trained to do whenever, and if ever, she chanced to meet any of the fine ladies at Laggan House.
As if innately sensing the younger woman was somewhat discomfited, Mrs Delaney took the initiative. Holding out her gloved hand, and in a very cultured Irish accent, the visitor said: “You must be Mrs Kinnon. I believe you are expecting me? Mr McGregor gave me your name and address and suggested that I call round to see you today. I’m Josephine Delaney – Mrs Delaney, that is.”
By now, having recovered her composure to some extent, Kate invited her visitor into her home and set about making her feel welcome. As she showed her guest into the freshly prepared front room, she first gave a nervous cough.
“Here it is, Mrs Delaney, the room I can offer you. I’ve arranged the furniture to make it a bed-sitting room, and with that little table over by the bay window, I’d be able to serve you all your meals, which I’d cook for you in the back kitchen.”
Kate stole a quick look at Mrs Delaney’s face to gauge the woman’s reaction. But all she could see was a poker face giving not the slightest clue to what the woman was actually thinking.
In her acute nervousness, Kate babbled on.
“Of course, if you preferred only attendance, by which I mean you would buy and bring in your own food, do your own marketing, in other words, then, of course, I’d be happy to cook it for you and serve it in here at whatever times would be most convenient for you. And of course, I’d be happy to attend to your laundry needs if you wanted me to and ...”
At this point Mrs Delaney peeled off her fine kid gloves then, holding them in her left hand, she held up an elegant, be-ringed, and well-manicured hand as if to stem the flow of Kate’s tirade. In her superior way and looking down her nose at her would-be landlady, she drawled: “Steady on there, Mistress Kinnon. At this moment, I am still only at the stage of looking and assessing the accommodation on offer, before I make my final decision. Nothing whatever beyond that. And most certainly, no fait accompli, I do assure you, Madam. I do still have another couple of possibles to see and consider as yet. That other newsagent, the big shop round in Argyle Street, he had a discreetly-written notice in his window which rather attracted me. Something about a large, bright airy room with elegant furnishings and attendance. And, would you believe, overlooking Glasgow Green and a ... let me see, how did they phrase it?”
The pompous woman put a forefinger to her head in an elegant pose as she supposedly pondered the wording of the advertisement.
Somehow, Kate, with a quiet smile to herself, had the feeling that the well-corseted and upholstered woman before her knew exactly what the notice had said. Her suspicions were confirmed when, with a trilling laugh as of a young self-conscious girl, Mrs Delaney simpered.
“Oh, yes, I remember now. How very stupid of me to forget. The advertisement said: such a rich setting would be the ideal location for a Lady of Quality’.”
Again she laughed her girlish trill, which contrasted oddly with her sergeant major physique. Recovering her poise, she shrugged elegantly, at the same time holding out her splayed fingers as if to encompass the mean room in which she currently found herself. As one handing out charity to the workhouse poor, she smiled kindly and gave Kate a crumb of comfort.
“Of course, my dear, that room may already have been taken. I do realise that. But even so, as far as your own room on offer goes, well, as I say, as yet, no fait accompli. Obviously, I do appreciate that in no way whatsoever can you compete with the elegance of Monteith Row and its Glasgow Green setting.”
Kate frowned, for the very mention of Glasgow Green, far less Monteith Row was enough to upset her. Deciding on the instant that attack was the best form of defence, she rallied her thoughts and the turmoil of her emotions.
“Monteith Row indeed, Mistress Delaney. Humph. I would not have thought the grand gentry set of people there would have need of a paying lodger.”
It was Mrs Delaney’s turn to look surprised, but even so she was not about to be spoken to in this manner by a person of the lower classes. She looked down her fine patrician nose.
“Oh, so you know the area, do you? Perhaps you’ve done some cleaning, stair washing, or the like there, is that
Kate folded her arms across her chest, holding to herself the wild surge of glee which raced through her body.
Why not? she thought. Why shouldn’t I mention it, do a spot of name dropping? After all, the high and mighty Mistress Delaney is obviously a snob of the first order. Right, Kate, my girl, here goes.
She smoothed back her hair, then smiled innocently at the smug woman before her.
“Cleaning? Me? In Monteith Row? Oh, hardly that, Mistress Delaney. You see, I have visited, as a house guest there, in fact, at the home of my husband’s aunt. Perhaps you know her?”
Mrs Delaney’s face was a study of conflicting emotions as, holding a hand to her bulging neck, she inclined her head on one side.
Kate swallowed hard a couple of times, more to bite back her mirth than anything else, then speaking in an exaggerated tone of great confidentiality, she said: “We don’t normally let on about our relations in high places hereabouts, but I know I can trust you not to betray a confidence.”
The tall feather in Mrs Delaney’s over fussy hat bobbed its easy acceptance, as it all but poked out Kate’s left eye. Holding her head somewhat to the side to avoid further confrontation with the William Tell monstrosity, Kate nodded sagely.
“Like I sa
y, you may already know my husband’s aunt, what with you, from the look and sound of you, moving in high circles. She’s the Lady Christabel Telfer-MacPherson. But of course, Monteith Row is just her Town house. She keeps an estate in Argyll you know.”
Plain, untitled Mrs Josephine Delaney, widow-woman with high social pretensions, was visibly flabbergasted. Almost as if she expected the Lady Christabel to come strolling elegantly through the door at any moment, she smoothed down her already immaculate dress. When she again spoke there was a trace of wonder in her voice.
“Lady Christabel Telfer-MacPherson. Why, she’s one of the leading society hostesses in Glasgow. During the season, of course.” She frowned. “No, I can’t say that I know her personally. But, of course, it goes without saying that I do know of her – through mutual friends, you understand?”
Kate did understand. And perhaps even more than Mrs Delaney knew, in that moment, Kate was aware she had found herself a paying lodger.
Chapter 8
In the days that followed Mrs Delaney’s moving in it was soon clear not only had Kate gained a lodger, she had more or less lost a husband. By the end of her first week in residence, Pearce not only knew all there was to know about Mrs Delaney, he also knew that he had found his long-sought-after soul mate. For Josephine Delaney was one of his sort of people.
Pearce and Josephine soon found that, although apparent strangers, nevertheless it seemed that their paths had often almost crossed in the far off and privileged days of their youth, in the grand country houses of dear old Ireland. Because of the relatively closed circle, they had former acquaintances in common and, had Pearce not been banished to the colonies when he was, they would undoubtedly have met each other at some point.
Fortunes of the Heart Page 15