Nine years later, Fergal married Cathleen Connor, and within the first year of their marriage John Kelly made his entrance into the world. When he was thirteen, both his parents died from smallpox within weeks of each other, leaving Bridie and Dermot devastated, and the young boy bewildered and outraged that such a thing could happen to him.
Kate had learned of the family history one Sunday when she’d asked Bridie what had happened to the woman who had broken out in ‘boils and abscesses’.
Bridie had been in the scullery making sandwiches for tea, her ever-ready tongue becoming silent for a few moments before she said quietly, ‘I survived, lass. Like many before me, an’ many that’ll come after me, I survived. What else is there?’ It was then she had told Kate her sad story.
‘What is it, lass? You seem miles away.’
Dermot’s voice broke into Kate’s thoughts, and with a shake of her head she smiled and reluctantly rose to her feet. ‘We’ll have to be making a move. I promised my dad we wouldn’t be too late.’
Loud groans of disappointment rose from the Browning children as they saw their wonderful afternoon coming to an end.
‘Look, why don’t you take Kate for a wee walk, John, while I tell the young ’uns a story. Would you like that?’ Bridie looked at Billy and Sally, who nodded quickly. They would be prepared to listen to the complete reading of the bible if it meant they could stay a while longer.
When John’s hand cupped her elbow, Kate swallowed nervously. She could feel a dull flush spreading across her face while butterflies danced in her stomach.
Seeing their purpose, Alice stared at them in sulky silence. Then she said with a pout, ‘I’m a bit old for fairy stories. I’d rather go for a walk with Kate and John.’
Bridie took her arm. ‘Ah, don’t be in such a hurry to grow up, lass. You’ll be old soon enough, God willing.’
Although the evening was still bright, the air had turned chilly. Suppressing a shiver, Kate glanced at the muscular man by her side with a feeling of shyness. Although it wasn’t the first time she had been on her own with John, the experience of being alone with a man was still relatively new, and she depended on John to keep the conversation flowing. But this evening, for some reason, he seemed unusually reticent.
Plenty of people were out enjoying the spring evening, most of whom were courting couples, which only fuelled the sense of awkwardness between them. As if by unspoken accord, they began to walk slowly and aimlessly along the cobbled pavement. John, his hands thrust deep in the pockets of his lightweight jacket, stared down at his shiny Sunday best black shoes, cursing himself for being so tongue-tied. It wasn’t as if he were a young lad who had never been alone with a woman before. Bloody hell, he’d been through most of the girls and women hereabouts in his twenty-four years, but none like this one. Kate was different, and not just for her beauty, which in itself was enough to take a man’s breath away. No, it was more than physical appearances. She had a quiet dignity that belied the strong character he knew she possessed. And she must have used that same quality to the full to have carried on a search for a woman who, by all accounts, had scarpered of her own free will, otherwise she would have been found by now. London contained some very rough areas, but none so rough that a body could be left lying around for nearly two years without someone commenting on it. Mind you, it had come as a shock to find that Alex Browning, the gaffer down at the docks, was in any way related to this girl or the other members of the family, because the man was a mean bastard, hated and feared by all who came into contact with him. A wry smile came to his lips. Well, nearly all. He himself had never actually met Alex, but he knew him by sight and had heard enough to know he was a man best avoided. Conscious of the time slipping by, he cleared his throat and was about to break the silence when Kate spoke.
‘They’re marvellous, aren’t they? You’re very lucky to have them, you know.’
Knowing who she was referring to, John grinned proudly. ‘I know. I don’t know what I would have done without them over the years. I was only thirteen when my parents died… Well, I say only thirteen, but I was already working with me dad and grandad and thought of meself as a grown man, even though I was just an errand boy, because there wasn’t enough work for the three of us. Back then it was just a stall set back into the open doorway of a condemned house. It was part of my job to keep an eye out for anyone that looked official, because even though the house was almost demolished, the land was still private property. Anyway, me dad, who had a good head on his shoulders, went down to the Town Hall an’ asked, casual-like, how much it would cost to buy the bit of land, adding craftily that the house was a danger to anyone walking by, and two children had already been hurt by falling rubble. Well, I don’t know how he managed it, or what him an’ me grandad paid, but within a few weeks they owned the bit of land and began knocking it down and rebuilding it into a proper shop. I suppose the people that owned it were afraid they might have to pay out compensation if anyone got seriously hurt because of the state it had been left in, especially as me dad had already told of the “two wee children” that had been mysteriously injured while playing in it,’ Kate could hear the pride in John’s voice as he spoke of his dead father. ‘Well, like I said, they didn’t really need me, it was just their way of making me work for me pocket money, and giving me a bit of pride in meself. But when first me dad and then me mum died, I acted like the lad I was.’ He fell silent for a few moments as his thoughts travelled back into the past.
Then he shook himself, smiling again. ‘I went a bit wild the first few months. Started hanging round with a bad bunch, thieving and staying out all night. I suppose it was my way of coping; we all deal with grief in different ways. But, looking back, I don’t know how the pair of them put up with me. After all, they had their own grief to deal with, and it couldn’t have made things any easier with me being brought home by the police almost every week. I wasn’t very good at the thieving, you see. I was always getting caught!’
He gave a mischievous wink, and Kate’s heart went out to him, knowing that he still found it difficult to talk about that terrible time – the more so because she could identify with his childish anguish. She had been seventeen when her mother had gone, yet the pain hadn’t been diminished by her extra years.
They had reached the small parade of shops by now, and Kate, a sense of devilment rising in her, said lightly, ‘Your grandad should be on the stage! He could make a fortune as a comic, especially if he made an act out of the Chinese fighting story.’
John, who had been hoping the incident in the parlour was forgotten, pursed his lips ruefully. ‘You don’t want to take any notice of me grandad. It’s like me gran says, he’s daft at times, especially when there’s a pretty face to entertain.’
‘Oh, please, tell me. It sounded fascinating.’
Shrugging his shoulders, John said, ‘It’s nothing, really. Like me grandad said, there used to be an old Chinese man living around here, and he taught me a fighting technique called karate. I was never that good; I couldn’t get the hang of it.’ The lie slipped off his tongue with ease. In fact he had been an exceptional pupil in the ancient art of defence, but had never felt the need to use it. He was well able to look after himself with the aid of his fists, should the need arise.
‘Evening, John.’ Two men had stopped by their side, both of them eyeing Kate appreciatively. ‘How’s things?’ one asked while winking and nudging John playfully in the side.
‘Fine, thanks. I’ll be seeing you,’ he said quickly, not wanting to be caught up in the conversation they were both angling for.
Catching Kate’s arm, he moved her on, ignoring the loud whistle and raucous laughter that followed them.
‘How are things at home?’
The smile slipped from Kate’s face. This was the one time in the week when she could forget all about her troubled home life, yet it was good to have someone to confide in, to share her problems with if she wanted. ‘Oh, much the same,’ she answere
d, thinking of the sad, petulant man left at home. But it was his own fault, she reminded herself as the feeling of guilt began to rise. She had asked him on numerous occasions if he would like to accompany them to the Kellys’. But he still hadn’t forgiven her for the earlier rebuke, and every Sunday now William left the house soon after dinner, declaring he was off for a walk, or going to visit friends, when all the time Kate knew he merely wandered around the street until they were out of sight before returning to the empty house.
‘I’ll try again when I get home. I’ll say everyone’s dying to meet him, and this time I won’t take no for an answer,’ she said determinedly, because she couldn’t really enjoy herself wholeheartedly when she knew her dad was so lonely.
‘And what about your half-brother?’ John asked, his manner nonchalant, his attention seemingly fixed on the window display in the pawnbroker’s.
Kate swallowed hard. She didn’t like talking about Alex, not even to Bridie; it seemed disloyal somehow. Yet she had to admit that he seemed to be becoming stranger by the day. He would sit for hours without uttering a word, but the accusing looks he gave her spoke volumes, and the children were almost afraid to be in the room with him unless Kate or William were present. As always when thinking of Alex, Kate’s mind seemed to shut down, pushing away any niggling doubts concerning her brother. He was all right, she told herself firmly. He was just feeling a bit put out, that was all, and a touch jealous where the Kellys were concerned. But whereas she was more than willing to let her father enjoy the company of her friends, she had never entertained the idea of introducing Alex into the Kelly household.
Aware that John was waiting for an answer, she shrugged and said simply, ‘Alex is fine, but I don’t think he’d want to come with us. He’s not one for socialising.’
‘I don’t remember anyone asking him to.’ The brusque words were out of John’s mouth before he realised. Seeing Kate’s look of rising anger, he took hold of her arms, his gaze boring into her flashing green eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Kate, I didn’t mean to upset you. I don’t even know the man, except what I’ve heard around the shop. Believe me, none of it’s good.’ He tightened his grip as Kate began to struggle. ‘An’ from what you’ve told me, little as it is, he seems to be making your life a misery, an’ the little ones, too. Oh, Kate, don’t you see I’m worried about you? I hate the idea of your going back to that house. Be honest with yourself. Look how Billy an’ Sally never want to leave our house. It’s not a normal childish reaction of not wanting a good time to end; it’s more than that. It’s like they seem afraid to go home… Even Alice, grown up as she likes to pretend she is, always makes excuses to put off leaving. It isn’t normal, Kate, it…’
Shaking herself free, Kate faced him, her stomach churning with emotion. ‘What do you suggest I do? Leave my dad and find a house for the lot of us? And where do you think I’d find the money to pay for that? I barely earn enough to buy the groceries… Oh, let’s go back, there’s no point in continuing this conversation. I wish to God you’d never started it, because, for all his faults, Alex is still my brother, and I won’t have you talking about him like that.’
John nodded miserably, cursing himself for letting his tongue run away with him. This wasn’t what he’d planned at all. He had meant to tell Kate about the new order he had received for a dining table and chairs, which would put a good few pounds in his pocket. Like his father and grandad, John had been born with the ability to turn his hand to almost any job, and with application, plus encouragement from both grandparents, he had managed to set up a small but steady carpentry business. He carried out the often messy work in a rough extension that Dermot had had built on to the back of the shop so that John could work in peace whenever Bridie was able to take his place in the shop. Darting a quick look at the set face by his side, John groaned inwardly. He had been so full of it, wanting to tell Kate of his good news, but now he had ruined the remainder of the evening.
Then, his natural good humour and optimism returning, he casually flung an arm round her shoulders. ‘Don’t let’s fight, Kate. Look… fainits!’ He held up two interlocked fingers in front of her.
At the sight of his grin, Kate’s anger dissolved swiftly, and try as she might, she couldn’t prevent herself from breaking into a quivering smile.
John breathed a silent sigh of relief, knowing himself to be forgiven, not least because his granny would brain him if he upset Kate in any way. His granny was very fond of Kate; so was his grandad. And what about you? His inner voice spoke, bringing him to an abrupt halt, blinking rapidly.
‘John, I really must be going.’ Her soft voice broke into his confused thoughts. When she smiled and tentatively took his hand, his heart seemed to kick against his ribcage and his mouth was suddenly dry, He couldn’t deny it any longer, not even to himself. He was falling in love. For the first time in his life he was actually falling in love, and he wasn’t sure if he liked the feeling.
Clearing his throat, he said almost gruffly, ‘Don’t worry, you won’t be late home. I’ve got a surprise for you – well, mainly for the children… No, don’t try an’ get it out of me.’ He held up a restraining hand as Kate made to speak. ‘You’ll find out soon enough. Now then, Miss Browning, if you’ll allow me to escort you back, you’ll find out what I’ve arranged to round off the evening,’ he said in a near-perfect imitation of the gentry.
All animosity forgotten, Kate stood on tip-toe and planted a shy kiss on his cheek, the unexpected action setting off John’s erratic heartbeat once more. It also served to drive home the message he had been trying to deny since the first day he’d laid eyes on her. Gently guiding Kate along the cobbled street, he warned himself to take things easy. She wasn’t like any of the women he had known, and if he spoke out now and she didn’t feel the same way… Well, he didn’t know how he would react.
Oh, yes he did. He knew only too well!
Chapter Nine
From his vantage-point by the window, Alex watched a dilapidated horse-drawn cart draw to a halt outside the house. He took in every detail of the laughing occupants, his gaze falling with undisguised malice on the driver of the vehicle. His scowl became even more ferocious as the red-haired man, the object of his fury, lifted the children down from the cart one by one, his hands lingering a few minutes longer on the last occupant.
His fingers gripped a glass of whisky tighter as Alex watched the touching scene. There was Kate, his Kate, staring up at the stranger with a look that should have been reserved for him alone. Then they moved apart as Billy tugged on the man’s legs for attention. His reward was to be flung high above John’s head, his shrill, boyish giggles filling the air, the house and every particle of Alex’s tense body. He wasn’t going to stand for it. They were his family, his, and this… this Irish immigrant was trying to step into his shoes, trying to take his family away from him. In his anger Alex chose to forget he himself had no love, or even time, for his stepsiblings. The point was that they belonged to him, body and soul, until he decided otherwise.
Grinding his teeth, he cursed silently. He should have stopped this friendship at the outset, nipped it in the bud after that first visit to Wapping, but how could he have known Kate would develop a deep affection for these people? What was there about them that drew her back every week to a dingy little hovel in one of the worst parts of London? And the rest of them couldn’t wait for Sunday to come round, couldn’t wait to get away from their own home… and him. Not that he hung around on that particular day. As soon as he’d eaten, he was off out. He couldn’t stomach hearing their excited, inane chatter as they prepared for their weekly trip. But how long before the visits became more frequent? How long before that ginger-haired bastard started calling during the week? How long before the whole lot of them had their grimy Irish feet under his table?
A sharp pain jerked him from his reverie. Looking down, he was surprised to see blood trickling between his fingers. In his deep-rooted rage he had smashed the glass and hadn’t even not
iced. Quickly wrapping a handkerchief around his injured hand, he looked out of the window again, focusing a venomous glare at the tall man who had now flung Billy over his shoulder and was pretending to look for him, calling the boy’s name out loudly, while Billy screeched and shouted his delight in the game. Alex remained at the window, his devious, hate-filled mind spinning in a mad vortex of wild schemes, his frustration at not being able to stop the association adding to his torment.
He had followed Kate one Sunday, had seen where she went with the rest of the brood, and after a large elderly woman had almost pulled them through the scarred front door, he had wandered off to the nearest pub, hoping to find out as much as he could about his adversaries. And here he had his first disappointment. The Kellys were well liked and respected and, from what he’d gleaned, the younger Kelly wasn’t the kind of man to be reckoned with lightly. That disturbing piece of news had put paid to his initial plan of hiring someone to drive the Kellys from their home. Not that he had asked outright; he was no fool. He was too well known down in dockland to risk such an undertaking. No, if he wanted to rid himself of them, he would have to enquire further afield, or take care of them himself.
When Alice, bored with the childish play-acting, pushed open the gate and began to walk up the narrow path, Alex quickly dropped the curtain and walked across the room to where his father was making a great play of reading the newspaper.
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