When Day is Done

  ‘Thanks very much,’ Charles said gratefully. ‘Is there anything—?’ He let the question hang in the air, and Mrs Hayes said briskly, ‘I’ll give Winnie some ham and eggs. She’ll be made up. She’s always moaning because she never gets nothing from her rich cousin.’

  They left, promising to let Mrs Hayes know how their search progressed, and Kit squeezed her father’s arm. ‘I’m glad you came, Dad. I wouldn’t have known what to do about “mugging them”, as we say in Liverpool.’

  They both laughed, and Charles said, ‘They didn’t expect it, I’m sure, love. They wanted to help but it was just a thank-you.’

  Kit giggled. ‘Weren’t the old men funny about “the wimmin”?’ she said. ‘I feel we’re near to finding Kate now, Dad.’

  Charles advised caution. ‘You’ve built up a picture of Kate in your mind, but you might not like her when you meet her, love. Her life was very hard, at least in her youth, and it might have made her very sour and bitter,’ he said, but Kit was not convinced.

  She settled back happily into the routine of home, but before she was due to return for her second year at university she and her father had another day in Liverpool. Charles had written to Miss Mills asking if he and his daughter might visit her. He was trying to trace a Mrs Williams and a Miss Katherine Drew who had lived in Everton Road, and he had been told that she might be able to help him.

  ‘Someone might have left Kate a fortune,’ Essy said excitedly to Magdalen when the letter arrived. ‘Now don’t tell anyone about this. That other one’s not getting any of it if I can help it.’

  ‘The letter doesn’t say anything about a fortune,’ Magdalen protested. ‘I think you should be careful, Miss Essy. They might be confidence tricksters,’ but Essy wrote immediately, inviting Charles and his daughter to call. Magdalen determined to be present just in case.

  When Charles and Kit arrived, they explained who they were, and that Charles’s parents had met and married from the guesthouse. ‘They’re both dead,’ Charles said. ‘But looking through my father’s papers I see that he and my mother were very friendly with Mrs Williams’s niece, Katherine Drew. We’ve heard Mrs Williams is dead but we thought if we could find Miss Drew she might be able to tell us about my parents.’

  ‘Kate would remember them,’ said Essy. ‘She ran that place for years before Mildred died. Mildred was no loss, I can tell you, and the state she left her affairs in! And poor Kate, left to clear up the mess after nursing her and working herself to the bone for her. Mildred was a gambler like her father, for all her airs and graces.’

  Magdalen coughed warningly, but Essy disregarded her and went on, ‘You’d never think her and my madam were sisters. As different as chalk and cheese. My madam, Miss Beattie, was beautiful like her poor mother, but Mildred was like their father in every way. She even looked like a man.’

  Charles tried to slip in a question about Kate, and Magdalen served wine and fruit cake, but Essy was enjoying herself and nothing could stem the flow. They heard all about the earlier generation, the meek aristocratic mother of Beattie, Mildred and Sophie, and their father who gambled away a fortune on the Stock Exchange. She told them of Beattie’s wedding and of Sophie marrying a soldier who was killed in the Boer War.

  ‘She was the mother of Kate and that Rose,’ she said. ‘She kept poor Kate from school to wait on her when there was nothing wrong with her but drink, but not the other one, oh no. You’ll stay to lunch,’ she ordered abruptly, and they looked helplessly at Magdalen, who smiled and disappeared.

  ‘Is Kate still alive?’ Charles asked quickly.

  Essy looked startled. ‘Of course she’s still alive,’ she said. ‘She often comes to see me. She’s a good girl but nothing’s ever gone right for her. When that mother died she went to Mildred. Nobody ate idle bread in that house and she very near worked Kate to death. My madam did her best for her, gave her gifts and money, but I suppose Mildred took them off her.’

  She stopped to draw breath, and Charles opened his mouth, but before he could speak Essy swept on, ‘Then when Mildred was dying poor Kate fell in with a fellow who took advantage of her and there was a baby, but it died. After that she was just a drudge in these homes for fallen women. My poor madam took the other one, Rose. She cherished a viper in her breast, as the Bible says. I’ll never forgive myself that I didn’t try to stop it, but I thought it would be an interest for my poor lady. Someone to dress and be company for her. Little did I know!’

  ‘Is that Kate’s sister? Is she still alive?’ asked Charles.

  ‘Yes. Why do you think everyone’s dead?’ Essy said pettishly. ‘The wicked flourish like the green bay tree.’

  Magdalen appeared and announced that lunch was ready, and Essy rose with alacrity and led the way into the dining room. They were served a delicious soup, followed by omelettes with garden peas and tiny new potatoes, then strawberries and cream. ‘Magdalen has green fingers,’ Essy announced with satisfaction. ‘She grows these little potatoes for me, even for Christmas dinner because I like them.’

  ‘Did you cook the meal too?’ Charles asked Magdalen, and when she nodded he said, ‘Then you’re a wonderful cook too. This is all delicious.’ He and Kit were enjoying the meal and both were glad of the respite from Essy’s flow of reminiscences. There was so much to take in yet they were unable to ask the questions they wanted to.

  Before the strawberries were served she started again. ‘My madam always kept a good table. She was a lovely lady. Everybody loved her, she was so kind and gentle. Her husband idolised her and when he died he made sure he left her well provided for. And he knew I would always look after her. The only time we ever disagreed was over that Rose. Wicked, scheming, ungrateful girl. She broke my poor madam’s heart but madam saw through her at the end.’

  The strawberries were served and Charles and Kit thought it wiser not to ask any questions of Essy as she poured cream into her dish and began to eat greedily, but when the meal was finished and they went back into the other room, Charles asked again about Kate.

  ‘She hasn’t been to see me for a while. She’s been very ill with overwork,’ Essy said, but Magdalen, who was pouring coffee, said gently, ‘She came a fortnight ago, Miss Essy. Mr Richard brought her.’

  ‘I know. I hadn’t forgotten,’ Essy snapped, but it was clear that she had. ‘Tell them about the legacy,’ Magdalen suggested, and Essy smiled again. ‘Yes, madam saw the way that Rose treated her. Her husband brought the little boys to see madam and looked after her interests but Rose was always too busy or pretending to be ill. Before she died madam said to me I had always been her one true friend.’ She smiled fondly.

  ‘The will,’ Magdalen prompted her, and Essy roused herself again.

  ‘Oh yes, the will. Rose expected to get everything but all she got was madam’s jewellery, and lucky to get that. No message with it. Madam left the bulk of her money between the two boys and a thousand pounds to her dear niece Katherine Drew. She’d already given Mr Willis some things of her husband’s and she left him her grateful love for his care of her during her last years. But not a word about Rose,’ she cackled.

  She paused impressively. ‘But then – what really stuck in that one’s craw – she left her house and contents and an annuity to her faithful friend and companion Esther Mills – me!’ Essy gazed at them triumphantly and they both murmured congratulations. ‘That showed that she appreciated all that you’d done for her,’ Charles said, and Essy said venomously, ‘Aye, and that she saw through that Rose Willis.’

  They were silent for a moment, then Charles said quietly, ‘We’d like very much to get in touch with Kate if we can,’ and Magdalen said persuasively, ‘Mr Barnes wants to find out about his parents.’

  ‘What do I know about his parents?’ Essy said pettishly. ‘I suppose they took advantage of Kate in that guesthouse, as Mildred called it. Everyone did.’ She suddenly seemed tired and Charles signalled to Kit and rose.

  ‘Thank you very much, Miss Mills,’ he s
aid. ‘You’ve been very kind,’ but Essy already seemed sleepy.

  Magdalen showed them out. ‘Don’t take too much notice of what Miss Essy says,’ she whispered. ‘She took a dislike to Mrs Willis when she was a child and she remembers those days more clearly than what’s happening now.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Charles said. ‘I hope we didn’t make extra work for you. That was a delicious lunch.’

  ‘I enjoyed doing it. We don’t have many visitors,’ said Magdalen. ‘I’ve written down Kate’s address for you.’ She thrust the paper at them and said a hasty goodbye as Essy began to call for her.

  Charles and Kit walked to the car feeling dazed by the amount of information that had poured out on them. ‘I feel as though I’ve been hit by a tidal wave,’ Charles said. ‘What an overpowering old woman.’

  ‘Yes. And so bitter,’ Kit said. ‘Imagine hating someone like that all your life. Poor Rose.’

  ‘We should have got her address too, in case we can’t reach Kate,’ said Charles.

  He was unfolding the paper with Kate’s address as he spoke, and now he exclaimed, ‘Good God!’

  ‘What’s up? What’s wrong?’ Kit asked, and he held out the paper.

  ‘Look where she lives. Lilley Road!’

  ‘Lilley Road? But that’s only a stone’s throw from Holly Road. It’s off Holly Road,’ gasped Kit. ‘I don’t know how I haven’t met her.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have known who she was if you did,’ Charles pointed out. ‘And she wouldn’t know you.’

  ‘Oh, Dad, this is fate,’ Kit exclaimed.

  Charles glanced at his watch. ‘It’s only just after two o’clock,’ he said. ‘There’s a phone number too. I could ring her now.’

  ‘Oh yes, do, Dad. Find a phone box right away.’

  They stopped at the first phone box and Charles found that his hands were trembling as he dialled the number. Kit stood in the box with him and she was trembling too. ‘Oh Dad, I feel afraid. What if—’ she began, but a voice with a slight Irish lilt answered and Charles hastily pressed Button A.

  ‘Hello. Am I speaking to Miss Katherine Drew, please?’ he asked.

  ‘No. I’m Josie Malloy. I’m staying with Kate. She’s had a fall and she’s in bed for a few days,’ the voice replied.

  Charles hastily fed more money into the box. ‘My name is Barnes. Miss Drew knew my parents when they lived in Liverpool in a guesthouse,’ he said. ‘They’re both dead now but I was hoping to speak to Miss Drew about them.’

  ‘God bless us. Mr Barnes and Miss Tate. I knew them too. Where are you now?’ demanded the voice.

  ‘In Liverpool for the day with my daughter,’ said Charles. ‘We’re in Woolton now.’

  ‘Can you find Lilley Road? Ask for the ice rink in Prescot Road and anybody’ll direct you from there,’ said Josie.

  ‘Er – yes – yes,’ Charles stuttered.

  ‘Well, come and see Kate now,’ said Josie. ‘I’ll be here to let you in. She’ll be made up to see you.’

  ‘But if she’s ill—?’

  ‘She’s not ill, just shaken up by the fall, but the doctor told her to stay in bed and I’m seeing that she does. Nothing wrong with her eyes and ears and tongue, though,’ she chuckled. ‘Come as soon as you can.’

  ‘Thanks. We’d love to if you’re sure it’s all right,’ Charles said gratefully.

  ‘Sure it is. We’ll expect you when you land, then. Have you got the house number?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Charles, and before he could say any more Josie said cheerfully, ‘Ta-ra then. See you soon,’ and hung up, leaving Kit and her father staring at each other.

  Kit hugged him. ‘Oh Dad, after all this time. As simple as that.’ She was almost in tears, and as they walked back to the car Charles squeezed her arm.

  ‘Remember. Don’t build up your hopes too much. Keep an open mind, love.’

  ‘I will,’ she promised, but she felt that already she knew Kate and liked her.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  While Kit was experiencing her first exciting year at the university, absorbing new experiences and impressions and making new friends, Kate, living a few minutes’ walk away from her, was enjoying a peaceful retirement.

  There was a second-hand bookshop in Kensington where she spent many happy hours browsing. She often thought of her early days in the guesthouse when she spent her small wages on books from the stalls outside St John’s Gardens in the centre of Liverpool, but had little free time to read them. Now she could buy whatever she liked, within reason, and return home to read at her leisure in front of a good fire and with a cup of tea beside her. For the first time in her life there was no need to watch the clock.

  Nell came to visit several times, and on one memorable occasion Kate travelled to London to stay with her old friend. She had been nervous about meeting Nell’s nursing colleagues but Nell told her that they were more likely to feel shy with her.

  ‘It’s difficult for us nurses to adapt,’ she said. ‘To deal with people socially rather than as patients or their relatives. You have a sort of quiet dignity, Kate, that can be very intimidating.’

  As Nell knew, the thought that other people might be shy was enough to make Kate forget her own shyness and exert herself to be friendly, and she was a big success with Nell’s friends. ‘Now that you’ve done it once, I hope you’ll often come to see me. I’ve always been a bit jealous of your visits to Josie,’ Nell joked, and Kate promised that she would.

  Old Mrs Malloy had died during the war, but Josie and Michael’s eldest daughter was now married and living in the village and she was always willing to take over Josie’s household and free her mother to visit Kate. Kate also spent two happy holidays on the farm.

  Josie was the only one who remembered Henry and could talk about him with Kate. Nell had never known him and Rose had never shown any interest in him and knew nothing about Kate’s secret dreams and the comfort they had brought her.

  Josie also remembered Gordon, and was the only person who knew that Kate still donated a toy to Alder Hey Children’s Hospital every 1 January. She sometimes wondered whether Kate realised that Gordon had abandoned her all those years ago, or whether she still believed that he had intended to return but was prevented, but with rare delicacy she forbore to ask.

  Kate only spoke once to Josie about it. Marie and George had moved to Manchester and now had three children. They were living in comfort in an exclusive suburb and George now owned his own business. They seemed settled and happy. Kate showed Josie a letter from Marie in which she wrote:

  George was very keen to emigrate to Canada but I couldn’t put an ocean between myself and my darling first-born son. Even if I never see him again, he is always in my heart, and as dear to me as my other children. I will never interfere and spoil his life with his adoptive parents, but I must be here if he needs me.

  ‘George must be a very understanding man,’ Josie said as she handed back the letter, but Kate’s eyes had filled with tears. ‘Yes, poor man, and poor Marie. I was better off losing my child like that. Marie had time to know her baby and she must always wonder whether he’s happy.’

  ‘I don’t think it was easy for you,’ Josie said. ‘I’m just mad that I didn’t know about it at the time.’ She was tempted to suggest that Kate might have felt more had the baby been Henry’s rather than Gordon’s, but she decided on discretion.

  Kate had enjoyed the winter, snug and warm in her flat with Richard in the rooms above always willing to drive her anywhere she wanted to go. The spring and summer were a delight to her as she strolled around the leafy roads near her home, watching the effect of the changing seasons and the flowers in the gardens. She enjoyed the autumn too, but one day shortly before Josie was due to arrive for a visit, she went down the two steps into her back garden, stepped on a wet leaf and fell heavily.

  No bones were broken, but she was dishevelled and muddy and badly shaken. She managed to get back into the house and was cleaning off the mud when Josie arriv
ed with Robert, who had met her off the boat.

  ‘What’s happened to you?’ they exclaimed, and although she protested that she was only muddy, Robert insisted on phoning her doctor. Josie helped her to clean off the mud and made her a cup of tea. When the doctor arrived he told Kate she must stay in bed for a few days.

  ‘I’ll see that she does, Doctor,’ Josie promised. She would have none of Kate’s protests. ‘We can talk as well if you’re in bed as if you’re up,’ she said. ‘And that’s what I’ve come for, a talk. And I can cook as well as you, even if you did teach me.’

  Kate was still in bed the next day when the call came from Charles. Josie took it in the hall, then went into Kate’s bedroom. ‘Did you hear that?’ she cried, and Kate gasped, ‘Did you say Mr Barnes?’

  ‘Yes, our Mr Barnes’s son,’ said Josie. ‘He said his parents were dead and he wanted to talk to you about them. I said he could come.’

  ‘Oh Josie, when?’ Kate exclaimed, and when Josie said, ‘Now,’ she shrieked, ‘Oh no, Josie, I can’t.’

  ‘Yes you can,’ Josie said firmly, although her own face was flushed and she was obviously excited. ‘Keep calm. That’s why I told him to come now so you wouldn’t have time to get worked up.’

  Kate threw back the bedclothes. ‘I must get up,’ she said distractedly, but Josie insisted that she stayed where she was.

  ‘I’ve told him you’re in bed,’ she said. ‘Don’t make a liar of me. Get washed and change your nightie while I make your bed. Here, put Nell’s present on.’ She pulled a pretty nightdress and matching bedjacket from a drawer and thrust them into Kate’s arms. ‘Go on. Don’t stand there like one of Lewis’s dummies,’ she said. ‘But don’t panic. They’re driving from Woolton, so you’ve got time. He’s bringing his little daughter with him.’

  Kate stood in the bathroom, clutching the nightdress and bedjacket and staring at the reflection of her white face and terror-stricken eyes in the mirror. Oh God, what will I do? she thought. All these years she had lived on her dreams of Henry. They had fulfilled and comforted her for nearly all her life, but now this was reality. Henry’s son and his granddaughter, but Agnes’s too, she thought. What would they be like? How could she bear her life if she lost her dreams?