Gnawing her bottom lip, Kate wavered. It would be so easy to agree. So easy to just nod and escape to her bed, but she had made a stand tonight, there was no reverting to the passive creature she had been. As she turned, she saw Alice standing in the kitchen doorway. By her pensive expression, Kate knew she had been listening to them. With determination, she addressed her brother again. ‘No, I’m sorry, I can’t promise that. You see, while I was down in Wapping I made some friends, and I have every intention of seeing them again.’ Quickly, before her restored courage could desert her, she recounted the attack by the three men and the arrival of the Kellys, and all the time she was speaking she was painfully aware of dark lines of anger spreading over Alex’s face. When he seized her roughly by the upper arm, she cried out in pain.
‘You’ll stay away from them. Do you hear me, Kate? You stay away from these people! They’re scum, all of them, and the Irish are the worst of the lot. If I catch you down there again, I’ll…’
Then it was his turn to yell as Kate’s elbow caught him sharply on the mouth, drawing blood from his bottom lip. It was the second time that day she had hit out at a man, and the feeling it gave her was one of pure vindication. Letting go of her arm, he put a hand to his mouth, blinking in shock as he saw the blood staining his fingers.
‘Don’t you ever lay a hand on me again, Alex!’ Kate cried angrily, all tiredness banished in a wave of fury. ‘You can’t tell me what to do or who I can see. I’m your sister, not your wife; you’ve no control over me. Not now, or ever, and if you don’t like it, then you can bloody well lump it!’
‘Kate, Kate, stop it! What’s the matter with you? Oh, come on, Kate, come away, please.’ Alice was pulling hard at her arm, urging her to move, and Kate, seeing the distress on her sister’s face, allowed herself to be ushered from the room.
Alex watched them go, his face contorted with pain and rage. She had met somebody, and not just anybody, but Irish scum. Cursing quietly, he lumbered over to the glass-panelled cabinet where the drinks were stored and poured himself a large whisky, downing it in one go before pouring another. It took four more such measures before his seething anger began to abate and, meanwhile, William had returned, seen the bloodied face of his elder son and hurriedly made for his own room, not wishing to be drawn into whatever had taken place in his absence.
Alex hardly noticed him. So, Kate had found some friends, had she? And she was planning to strengthen that friendship. He discarded the glass and raised the near empty bottle to his lips. He sat for a long time, brooding over her unfair treatment of him. Like it or lump it, she’d said. He, who looked after the lot of them, and what thanks did he get for his troubles? Billy and Sally never stayed in the same room as him if they could help it – not that he cared, the little brats got on his nerves – he made a pretence of affection for them only to ingratiate himself with Kate. He could hardly talk to Kate without one or the other of them hanging on to her skirts.
At least the seed he had planted in Sally’s mind had taken root. Now he had to persuade Kate it was in Sally’s best interests for her to go to boarding school. It was a pity he couldn’t do the same with Billy. He had toyed with the idea, but although Kate might be persuaded to let Sally go, he knew she would never let Billy out of her sight. She treated the little bastard as if he were her own child, always fussing over him as if he were someone special.
Alice on the other hand shouldn’t be around for much longer, not the way she was carrying on. He’d seen her, lolling around the streets, always with a different boy in tow. It was a wonder she hadn’t been knocked up by now, the little trollop! And that look Kate had given the pair of them when they’d come in; as if he would even entertain the idea of Alice! He would never take any man’s leavings, except of course those women who were paid for their favours, but they didn’t count: whores were there to be used and discarded like the filth they were. He had to have some outlet for his urges until the time was right for him and Kate to come together.
For the moment, though, he was perfectly content to wait. After all, he had nearly all he had set out to achieve. He was master in his own home with no one to gainstay his wishes, and once Alice and Sally had gone there would only be Billy and that old fool upstairs to contend with. And you never knew what might happen from one day to the next. Accidents occurred all the time, sometimes fatal ones. Revelling in his drunken mood he raised the bottle again, saw it was empty and in a fit of pique hurled it onto the grate. The sound of glass smashing was deeply satisfying, and raising his eyes he sat back to await the arrival of Kate, knowing she was bound to come and investigate, but the stairway remained empty. Uttering an oath, he hurled himself from the deep confines of the armchair and lurched over to the cabinet for another bottle.
His eyes dark and brooding, his thoughts centred on the faceless Kellys, these people who were trying to take his Kate away from him. Then abruptly his mood shifted. What the hell was he worrying about! So some Irish yokel had acted the knight in shining armour – any woman would be impressed. Kate would soon tire of him and his family with their ceaseless babbling about the old country, which was about the limit of the Irish vocabulary. He touched his bloodied lip, and smirked. The old Kate was back, and about bloody time. She’d been moping about like some half-witted simpleton up to now, so he owed these Kellys at least that much. Let her enjoy her new friends while it lasted, she would appreciate him all the more when she finally tired of them. As for the men who had attacked her… He drew his black eyebrows together in a scowl. It wouldn’t be difficult to find out their names. The docks might be a rough place, but a woman being accosted in broad daylight wasn’t a common occurrence. Someone was bound to know the men involved, and when he found them… His lips spread in a lop-sided cruel smile, then his head drooped as he sank into a drunken stupor.
* * *
Kate heard the sound of breaking glass, and tensed as she expected Alex to come flying through the door at any moment. When the house remained quiet she slowly began to relax, and when after a further twenty minutes there was still no sound from below, she let her body slump back on the hard mattress. Turning her head on the feather pillow, she looked at the still form of her brother, thankful he had slept through the noise. Even the girls were quiet, which was unusual, especially for Alice who hated to go to bed early. With a soft sigh, Kate closed her eyes, only for them to spring open again as the image of Alice and Alex together came to her.
A dark shadow flitted across her face, almost as if she’d peeped through a forbidden door that had been closed for a long time, one that had been opened unwittingly by the sight of her sister’s animated face as she’d come into the house with Alex. Oh, don’t be so stupid! she told herself silently. Alex might be capable of many things, but not that. Yet even as she tried to reassure herself, unbidden memories came flooding back, of him standing too close, at times making her feel uncomfortable. The way he sometimes stroked her hair while they talked, the way he…
Impatiently she flopped over on her side, her mind shutting down on the disturbing train of thought. She was tired, that was all it was. She was over-tired, and her mind was playing tricks. Settling herself more comfortably, she finally drifted off to sleep, only to be awakened a few hours later by the loud thumping of her heart.
Disoriented for a few minutes, she lay motionless until her heartbeat steadied, then slowly swung her long legs over the side of the bed and crept over to the window. Resting her hip against the wide windowsill, she looked down on to the darkened street, her cheek resting against the cool glass. She remained at the window until the dawn began to break, tears not far away.
‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ she whispered. ‘I won’t ever forget you, and I’ll keep on trying to find out what happened to you, but I must have a rest. Because, if I don’t, I’ll either go mad or make myself so ill I won’t be able to look after the children, and they’ve already suffered enough. I don’t want to go mad or be ill. I want to live, and I know that, wherever you are
, you wouldn’t want me to be unhappy. So like I said, Mum, I’m going to have a rest for a while… I… I love you, Mum, and I miss you so very, very much…’
Chapter Eight
‘Come on, Spud, come and play with me!’ The high-pitched voice of childish glee fought to be heard over the resounding noise of the Kellys’ piano and the accompanying voice of Dermot Kelly as he launched into another verse of ‘Danny Boy’.
Kate sat by the mercifully empty grate on this hot June day, her face wreathed in smiles as she looked on the happy scene, her mind slipping back to that first visit and the children’s apprehension at the prospect of meeting new people. Her dad hadn’t helped either.
On that first Sunday, when she’d told him about her new friends, he had ranted and raved, saying he didn’t want his daughter mingling with ‘those kind of people’. But once his opinion had been aired and he was satisfied he’d made his point, he had begun asking questions, hinting that perhaps he might condescend to meet them in order to see if they were suitable company. When he had realised that Kate was determined to further the acquaintance with or without his permission, he had become aggressive, following her around the house until, in exasperation she had shouted at him to leave her in peace.
When dinner was over and they were preparing to leave, he had appeared dressed for outdoors, fully expecting to be invited along. And when Kate had firmly reminded him of his earlier remarks about the Kellys and said it would be best if he stayed at home until she’d asked them if he could come with her the next time, he had flown into a rage. Shouting and waving his arms in a spectacle of posturing fury and indignation, the sight of him had filled Kate with embarrassment and shame at seeing a grown man act in such a way. At the time, she had felt guilty at leaving him behind, but as she’d told herself on the journey to Wapping, she wasn’t sure of her own reception. After all, people often issued invitations, then either forgot or regretted the impulse as soon as the words had been uttered. She could imagine how humiliated she would feel if her arrival was greeted with indifference without her dad there to witness her discomfort. She would never have heard the end of it.
But she needn’t have worried. From the moment she had nervously knocked on the peeling green door, both she and the children had been welcomed like old and dear friends. The children had been wary at first, which was only to be expected. But, like herself, they had quickly warmed to the elderly Irish couple and their grandson, and now look at them! There was Billy, rolling about on the floor with the near-demented dog, while Sally, her face animated, stood by the grey-haired man at the piano, her small frame racked with laughter. Easing herself more comfortably into the depths of the armchair, Kate smiled contentedly. It was good to see them so happy, to hear them laugh and see their carefree faces. And it was all due to these wonderful people who had taken them into their home and reminded them of what being a family was all about. As always, Kate had dressed carefully for her weekly visit, telling herself it was only good manners to look presentable, and had nothing to do with the red-headed man who was at the moment playing host to a besotted Alice.
Kate’s efforts hadn’t gone unnoticed. The deep green dress with white piping around the neck and cuffs served to complement her eyes, and with her waist-length hair left tumbling around her shoulders, she looked radiantly beautiful. Turning her head slightly, she noticed Alice at the table, barely inches away from the young man who appeared to be highly amused at the attention he was receiving. As if aware of her scrutiny, John Kelly looked up, his eyes meeting Kate’s, and smiled warmly. Alice, seeing the smile directed over her head, made a great play of arranging her red-checked dress smoothly over her hips and moved even nearer, making John smile more broadly.
‘Will you stop that almighty racket before you deafen the poor wee children!’ Bridie bustled over to the piano and gave the big man a shove that nearly sent him toppling.
Laughing gaily, he turned to the rest of the room, his hands outstretched in a plea for sympathy. ‘D’ye see how I’m treated in me own home? Ah, now ’tis a terrible shame when a man’s terrified of his own wife!’
‘Get away with you, you daft eejit!’ Bridie flapped at the back of his head with a meaty hand.
Sally and Billy squealed with laughter at the now familiar play-acting, their obvious joy bringing a huge beam of satisfaction to Bridie’s wrinkled face. Bustling around the room, she laid the table for tea, refusing all offers of help from Kate, and when they had finished, Billy returned to the floor and the waiting dog, who sniffed around his hand in search of the tit-bit he had hidden in his palm.
The small boy looked guiltily towards the table as if expecting a rebuke, then gave an audible sigh of relief as Bridie nodded. ‘G’wan then, lad. Give it to him, whatever it is, else he’ll have your hand off looking for it.’
And when Sally, perched on the stool by the piano, looked longingly down at the black and white keys, Dermot, his faded blue eyes alight with understanding, said kindly, ‘It’s all right, lass, you can have a bit of a play. You don’t have to ask every time you come. Friends don’t stand on ceremony in this house, an’ you’ll likely make a better tune than meself.’
And when Bridie scoffed loudly, ‘Begod! Sure an’ the dog would make a better tune than yourself!’, the room exploded with laughter.
Wiping his eyes with an enormous handkerchief, Dermot looked around at his guests and smiled contentedly. ‘Ah, sure ’tis good to hear the children laugh, so it is. It’s grand having young ’uns in the house, makes me feel like a lad again, an’ the auld woman there’s had a spring in her step since you started visiting. Isn’t that right, Bridie?’
A loud ‘humph’ greeted this remark, and with renewed vigour Bridie began clearing the table, again refusing any help. For a while they lapsed into a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft tinkling of the piano keys.
Lighting his clay pipe, Dermot took a few good puffs to get the tobacco going before taking it out of his mouth and pointing it at his grandson, a look of devilment in his bright blue eyes as he said solemnly, ‘Well now, from what Bridie tells me, me laddo here is still being hailed as a hero by folks around these parts. I wish I’d been there. I’d have put the fear of God into them; so I would have!’
‘Get away with you, you daft divil! They’d have more likely died laughing if you’d squared up to them,’ Bridie called from across the room. Addressing herself to Kate, she added, ‘He still thinks he’s twenty, the poor fool.’
‘Will you hold your tongue, woman, an’ give a man a bit of peace,’ Dermot came back at her, his pipe waving wildly in the air, sending huge clouds of smoke under the noses of Kate, John and Alice.
Trying not to cough, and ignoring her watering eyes, Kate looked fondly at the elderly man. Ever since their first visit, Dermot Kelly had taken great pride in reliving his grandson’s heroic actions, and though she knew that John was becoming tired of the same conversation, she always managed to respond as if the event had happened just yesterday instead of almost three months since. ‘I don’t know about a hero, Mr Kelly, but John certainly saved me from a very unpleasant experience.’
‘Aye, I know that well enough, but tell me now’ – he leaned forward, his eyes slight with merriment – ‘did he use his fists, or…’
‘Grandad!’ John spoke warningly, beginning to fidget with impatience.
Seeing his grandson’s discomfort, Dermot slapped his knee gleefully. At Kate’s look of puzzlement, he leaned across the table, his mouth stretched in a wide grin. ‘There used to be a Chinaman living down these parts. Nice old boy he was, Lord rest his soul. Anyways, he took a shine to that one there’ – again the pipe waved dangerously in the air – ‘an’ he showed our John how they fight in China. Begod! Sure an’ you’ve never seen anything like it! An’ the noise! Jasus, but it sounded like a banshee wailing in agony, so it did. Here, wait up a minute while I give youse a demonstration.’ Getting to his feet, the old man took a stance and began a complicated manoeuvre of
kicks and jumps, all the while emitting an ear-splitting noise that reduced the watching company to near hysteria.
‘Stop it, you old fool, before you give yourself a heart attack!’ Bridie, her own face streaming with tears, came over and grabbed his arm. Red with exertion, Dermot collapsed on his stool, his breath coming in short gasps.
Shuddering with laughter, Kate gazed through streaming eyes at the elderly couple, who despite their constant bickering were obviously still very much in love. They were a constant reminder to her that life really did go on, in spite of the many heartaches it threw your way. And the Kellys had had more than their fair share of heartache. Letting the noise in the room rise over her head, Kate reflected on what she had learned of the Kellys’ lives.
They had left Ireland in the midst of the potato famine that had ravaged their country. Bridie had been only eighteen and Dermot twenty when they had landed in England in eighteen forty-six, fifty-three years ago. Like the majority of their countrymen they had headed for the docks, where Dermot had found work on one of the seven hundred sailing colliers which regularly made the journey between the coalfields of Tyne and Wear and London at least ten times a year. Bridie had found a position as a lady’s maid, but was forced to give it up on the arrival of their first child, Fergal.
A year before the Kellys arrived in England, coal was delivered for the first time to the capital via the Great Northern Railway, which was instantly deemed a safer and cheaper method of transportation. But it was another twenty years before the railways finally broke the back of the colliers’ trade. During that period Dermot had worked as a coal whipper, one of those known as the aristocrats of the docks. The men earned relatively high wages to compensate for the back-breaking work and appalling conditions. Coal whipping involved lifting huge sacks of coal from the hold, then, at a precise moment, whipping it from ship to shore. One slight error could result in the whipper ending up either in the murky water or in the hold with broken bones. Another hazard was the thick coal-dust which filled the ship’s hold, contact with which led to a blackened body, choking fits and sometimes an early death. Bridie had been ever fearful for her husband’s safety. By the time the railway and new machinery had delivered the death-knell to the coal whippers’ livelihood, Dermot had saved enough to invest in the shop in St George’s Street, assisted by Bridie and seventeen-year-old Fergal.
Bow Belles Page 11