by June Francis
She picked a thread of white cotton from the lapel of his best jacket and thought he looked a treat. It was not often John dressed up and she thought the girl would have to be mad not to appreciate him. ‘You’ll do,’ she murmured and pushed him out of the door.
John stood by the hissing locomotive with Jack on his shoulders whispering in his ear. They had arrived too early and John was keyed up with waiting. What would she be like? He knew she was tall and fair but it was her personality he was interested in. Was she kind? Would she believe that if he had known she was alive he would have lived a different life? He took out Uncle Donald’s watch and checked the time. He realised it was later than he thought and loped up the platform with Jack clinging on tightly and protesting that he had wanted to stay longer to look at the engine.
‘Later, son,’ gasped John, wondering why he had given in to the urge to bring Jack with him, but he knew why really. He was his son, his only son and Jeannie’s half-brother.
The London train had steamed in and was disgorging passengers. John’s hazel eyes scanned faces and then he saw her. It had to be her! She was so like Margaret it came as a shock. For a moment he wondered if he had made a mistake in being so keen to have her stay with them. What would Kitty think when she saw her?
‘Jeannie!’ he shouted.
Her head turned in the direction of his voice and she hurried towards him. She tilted her head to take in the full height of him with Jack on his shoulders. ‘You look so like the old photograph it’s uncanny!’ Her voice was low and husky. She held out a hand.
‘You’re like your mother.’ He gripped her hand and gazed at her in wonder. She had a lovely face with smooth skin and a perfectly straight nose with nostrils that flared delicately. He found the reality of her being here amazing. Miraculous! He could only stare and try and take in that she was truly his daughter. He cleared his throat. ‘I’m so pleased to see you, Jeannie.’
‘I’m glad to be here.’ Her eyes looked suspiciously damp and they continued to stare at each other.
Jack tweaked his father’s hair. ‘Now she’s come can we go and see the engines?’
John took a deep breath. ‘This is my son Jack, your half-brother. Say hello to your sister, Jack.’
‘Only if we can go and see the engine,’ said his son, wrapping his arms tightly about his neck.
‘That’s cheeky.’ John slapped his leg lightly. ‘We’ll come back tomorrow and see the engines.’
‘But you promised I could see them now,’ protested Jack, rubbing his thigh.
‘I did not.’
‘You said later.’
‘I meant tomorrow,’ said John exasperated, thinking he could do without an argument with his son right now but Jack had such a strong will. ‘Jeannie will be wanting a cup of tea.’
‘Who wants a boring old cup of tea?’ said Jack, and smiled down at the woman who couldn’t possibly be his sister because she was far too old. She wore a plain velour-brimmed hat on her chestnut hair and was dressed in a shabby navy blue dress and jacket, which did not look anywhere near as good as that worn by his mother, but she was smiling up at him in a way that was somehow encouraging. ‘Perhaps you like engines?’ he said hopefully.
‘As a matter of fact, I do.’
Jack bounced on his father’s shoulders. ‘There ye’are, Pops.’
John smiled at his daughter. ‘You don’t have to be polite. You can be honest and say you hate them.’
‘I am being honest!’ She strode alongside him lugging her suitcase. ‘I like mechanical things and going fast.’
‘You’d like Teddy’s motorbike,’ called down Jack. ‘He helps make engines for cars and aeroplanes.’
Jeannie looked at John with a question in her eyes. ‘Is Teddy one of your stepsons?’
‘Aye. Beware of him, though. He’s a bit of a daredevil, so don’t be persuaded to get on that motorbike of his.’ He softened his words with another smile and reached out a hand. ‘Here, give me that suitcase.’
She handed it over. ‘There are two others, aren’t there?’
‘Yes, Mick and Ben. Mick’s twenty. Ben’s twelve. Both nice lads. Kitty, my wife—’ He hesitated.
‘Yes?’ She looked at him with an expression in her eyes that took him completely by surprise and gave him such a thrill that he forgot what he was going to say.
‘You’re like your great-grandmother,’ he said instead. ‘I mean my grandmother not Margaret’s grandmother. Not so much in looks but that expression was pure Gran.’
Jeannie’s expression was wistful. ‘I’m sorry I never got to meet her but Great-Grandfather’s still alive, isn’t he?’
‘I haven’t heard anything different.’
‘Maybe I – we could go and see him one day?’
‘Maybe,’ said John, making up his mind there and then that they would. ‘But right now we’ll have a quick look at the engine. That’s if you don’t mind?’ he said.
‘I said I didn’t mind.’ She enchanted him with her smile again. ‘As long as you don’t think your wife will mind us being a little late.’
‘No, Kitty won’t mind,’ he lied, certain that his wife would be on pins waiting to see what Jeannie was like. He felt a moment’s unease, wondering how Kitty would feel when he presented her with this beautiful stranger. She was after all the spitting image of his first wife and Kitty knew exactly how he had felt about her. For a moment he wished he had kept his mouth shut, but it was too late now.
‘She’s here and I reckon she’s gonna be trouble,’ wheezed Hannah, planting herself down on the bed and watching Kitty dithering over where to put the glass vase of daffodils. There was little space in the box room and the roof slanted almost to the floor on one side.
‘Why should she be trouble?’ said Kitty, setting the vase on a chair and sitting beside Hannah. She had been sorting out rooms and greeting people most of the day and would have liked nothing better than to put her feet up.
‘She’s got the looks of a Delilah and thou knows what happened to Samson,’ said Hannah.
‘She chopped his hair off.’ Kitty yawned, wondering what the maid was on about.
‘Aye, but it wasn’t just that,’ said Hannah with a grim smile. ‘He was led into wicked ways and lost his strength.’
Kitty smiled wearily. It had been a mistake to sit down because it made her realise how tired she was. If it hadn’t been for Hannah nattering on, she could have easily dozed off up here where it was quiet. She wished she didn’t have to go downstairs and face John’s daughter. Now the moment was almost here she felt on edge because Hannah made her sound like a femme fatale. She wondered what the boys would make of her. What had John made of her? Perhaps he needed rescuing?
‘Thou needs to be on thy guard when thee comes face to face with evil,’ said Hannah darkly. ‘A beautiful woman can be a snare to a man.’
‘You’re getting carried away,’ said Kitty, getting to her feet. ‘You should know better than to go by outer appearances, Hannah. Come on, let’s go down and hopefully I’ll find out just how wrong you are.’
John and Jeannie were in the kitchen where he was making tea. ‘There you are, Kit,’ he said, to all outward appearances thoroughly calm and in command of the situation. ‘Meet Jeannie. Jeannie, my wife.’
‘How do you do?’ said Kitty, stretching out a hand and thinking Hannah was right, Here comes trouble. She is beautiful.
‘I’m very well, thank you.’ Jeannie’s voice was well modulated and her manner confident. ‘It’s kind of you to have me here.’
‘Our pleasure.’ Kitty’s tone was polite. ‘How long are you planning on staying?’
‘She’s only just arrived! Give her a chance,’ rebuked John.
Kitty bit her lip and said in a smiling voice. ‘Sorry, Jeannie. I didn’t mean anything by it. I confess I’m nervous. It’s not every day a husband’s daughter turns up out of the blue. Your letter gave us quite a shock.’
‘I’m sorry. Finding out about my father was
a shock to me, too.’ She glanced up at him and smiled.
The look that John gave her caused Kitty a different kind of shock. ‘I’m sure it must have been,’ said Kitty abruptly. ‘Do sit down. You do have proof of who you are, don’t you?’
Immediately they both looked at her and the girl sat on a chair as if her legs could no longer support her. Her right foot twisted round one of the front legs of the chair as if to anchor her there. Not so confident, thought Kitty, feeling relieved.
‘What do you mean?’ said John.
‘What I said!’ Kitty returned his stare. ‘How do we know she’s telling the truth, John? Has she proof?’
John looked at her dumbly.
‘Don’t look at me like that, love,’ she said, deliberately keeping her voice low. ‘You’re too trusting. We don’t know this girl from Adam. She just writes claiming to be your daughter and you believe her without questions.’
‘She’s the spitting image of Margaret. I know she’s my daughter,’ said John, looking at her bewildered and gripping Jeannie’s shoulder.
For a moment Kitty could not think what to say because his words had taken her breath away. Any jealousy she might have felt for his first wife had been short-lived. She was dead and gone but if this girl was so like her she was going to be a constant reminder to John of that tragic first wife, and what would that mean to their lives?
‘I have proof,’ said Jeannie, whose cheeks had paled. She reached for her handbag and from its depths took out an envelope and handed it to John. ‘Your wife’s right. You should have asked for identification. I have a cousin who’s very like me.’
Clever! She’s agreeing with me, thought Kitty, surprised into admiration. She watched John take out the contents of the envelope. He looked at them before silently handing them over to Kitty. There was a wedding photograph and a birth certificate, both of which were proof enough even for Kitty. She accepted the inevitable. ‘Welcome to the family,’ she said, handing the envelope back to Jeannie and standing up. ‘I’ll show you to your room. You’ll be wanting to freshen up before meeting anyone else.’
‘Thanks,’ said Jeannie, looking at her father who nodded. She rose and they followed Kitty out of the kitchen.
‘It’s not very big,’ said Kitty, leaning against the chest of drawers and letting her gaze wander round the room to take in the single bed, chair, washstand and Jack’s dismantled cot. ‘Sorry about the cot but it comes in handy when the odd guest brings a baby.’
‘It’s fine.’ Jeannie placed the suitcase John had carried upstairs on the bed. He’d had to leave them and see to some luggage that needed collecting. ‘It’s not much smaller than the one I had at Aunt Emily’s.’
‘If you’re still here next week I’ll be able to give you a bigger room, only space is at a premium this week. Your father explained, did he?’
‘About the horse racing? Yes. He said you were very busy. If there’s anything I can do to help just let me know. I’m good about the house.’ Her hazel eyes met Kitty’s squarely.
The offer was unexpected and Kitty was unsure how to respond. Did the girl mean it or was she just being polite? ‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ she said, adding, ‘What did you do in Brighton? John never said whether you worked or just looked after his sister.’
‘I did both. Aunt Emily lived on what her husband had left her, which had depreciated. She’d also made some bad investments which meant I had to earn my own living.’
‘And how did you do that?’
‘I worked in an hotel.’ She smiled. ‘Quite a coincidence, isn’t it?’
Kitty could scarcely believe it. ‘Does your father know?’
‘He didn’t ask. I suppose he didn’t think about it.’
‘I suppose with your looks and manner you were a receptionist?’
‘That’s right. Aunt Emily got me the job. The proprietor was a friend of hers and she wanted someone keeping their eye on me.’
‘Why?’ said Kitty bluntly.
‘My looks.’ Her mouth twisted. ‘First Granny and then Aunt Emily worried about someone running off with me. It drove me crazy. You can understand why I wanted to meet my father once I knew who he was. He’d done it hadn’t he? He’d managed to escape them both and live a free life.’
Kitty stared at her, puzzled. ‘But not for the reason you’re getting at. They didn’t want him. It seems to me both your granny and aunt cared about you.’
‘Oh, they did! I’m not complaining about that. It could be overpowering, though. They were overprotective and demanding at the same time. If I’d known my father was alive earlier I would have left. Perhaps that’s what they were scared of?’
‘Perhaps,’ said Kitty, uncertain what to make of Jeannie. She seemed so sure of herself. Yet could any girl be that confident at twenty?
‘I really wanted to meet him,’ said Jeannie, almost to herself. ‘You can’t imagine what it’s like never having known either of your parents and then suddenly discovering one of them’s alive. I had this wonderful feeling of being found. I wasn’t alone anymore! Up north I had a father!’ She sank onto the bed and her eyes met Kitty’s. ‘I don’t expect you to understand and I do realise that you mightn’t want me here.’
Kitty moved away from the chest of drawers, placed the vase of daffodils on the floor and sat on the chair. ‘I don’t want trouble.’
‘And you think I’ll cause trouble?’ A laugh fell from Jeannie’s lips and she kicked off her shoes. ‘It’s the last thing I have in mind!’
‘I’m sure it is but that doesn’t say it won’t happen. You’re a lovely looking girl.’
Unexpectedly Jeannie’s face showed strain. ‘I’ve known a lot of women not like me but Gran always said beauty was only skin deep.’ She curled her feet under her on the bed.
‘Skin deep or not it’s what attracts the men,’ said Kitty, leaning forward. ‘I’d feel happier if you were married. I’ll admit to being surprised nobody has snapped you up.’
A mischievous expression flitted across Jeannie’s face. ‘I’ve had eleven proposals of marriage but I turned them all down.’
‘Why?’ Kitty was truly interested.
‘Most were in love with my face. A couple made the effort to try and get to know me but neither of them matched up to the picture of the man in my head.’
‘Your dead father,’ said Kitty.
Jeannie stared at her. ‘How did you know?’
‘My own father died at sea when I was seven. I never knew him well enough for the picture I had of him to get spoilt. He was blond and strong with far-seeing blue eyes, and he lived what I thought was a life of adventure.’ She paused. ‘You see now why I think you could cause trouble. I know what it is to dream.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll leave you to have a rest. We don’t eat until eight-thirty, after the guests have had their meal. Your father and I will be busy until then. The family rooms are up here and down in the basement. Make yourself comfortable downstairs if you want. I’ll see you later.’
She was at the door when Jeannie said, ‘You’re very honest. But thanks for welcoming me into the family. Believe it or not, it’s what I’ve been looking for all my life. I don’t want to cause trouble.’
‘Don’t do it then,’ said Kitty, smiling at her before closing the door.
As she went downstairs she was remembering how during the Depression steamers had advertised a pound a day cruises to Norway. She remembered dreaming for days of sailing away to meet her father’s side of the family. It had been out of the question, of course, and so remained only a dream. Part of her admired Jeannie for seeking out her father but another part of her was on her guard.
She squared her shoulders and decided she had coped with Jeannie the best she could in the circumstances. John might not think so but then he was a man. She and Jeannie were going to have to work things out differently between them. As for the boys’ reaction to her, that was still something that had to be faced and Kitty prepared herself to watch her two elder sons be smitten.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Teddy entered the kitchen having arrived home astride the love of his life, a second-hand ex-TT 250cc Rudge motorbike which he had parked in the yard. He had grown in the last few years but was still shorter than he would have liked. To compensate for his lack of inches and to make himself look older, he was growing a moustache. ‘Did she turn up?’ He glanced at his mother who stood by the table making dumplings as if in a dream.
‘Yes,’ said Kitty, stirring herself to take a couple of large casseroles out of the oven.
‘What’s she like? How old is she?’
‘Twenty. And you have to be nice to her – as is only right for someone who’s John’s daughter.’
Teddy blinked. ‘You’re joking!’
‘Do I look like I’m joking?’
He stared at her and thought he had not seen her looking so stony-serious since she’d had Jack. ‘You mean the big fella’s really got a daughter?’
‘How many times do I have to say it?’
‘But how?’ he demanded. ‘I mean – I thought he only had one daughter and she died when she was a baby.’
‘That’s the one. Get her to tell you the story. It’s quite moving. Her grandmother told her that John was dead.’
‘It sounds unbelievable.’
‘It’s true.’ She sighed.
‘What’s up, Ma?’ He went over to her and put an arm round her shoulders. ‘Is she that bad?’
‘Bad? No, I’m sure she isn’t.’ She looked into his face and thought how Irish-looking he was with his dark hair and sensitive face. What would he make of the girl and what would she think of him? Kitty had had first place in her boys’ affections for so long that it caused her pain knowing that one day she would lose that position. For a moment she allowed her cheek to rest against his shoulder. ‘It takes some accepting,’ she said. ‘It’s knocked me for six.’
‘How did the big fella take it?’
‘He’s over the moon. To be expected, I suppose.’ She straightened and another sigh escaped her as she moved away from him.