Kate Hannigan's Girl Read online

  The bed was warm and soft; she seemed to be adrift in it. Vaguely she was conscious of Kate and Rodney looking down on her. They would be standing close together and his good arm would be around her. He had two arms, but one of them wasn’t much good since he had been wounded in France in 1917. It was the same with his legs: he had two of them, but one wasn’t much good either. In fact, there wasn’t any foot on that one. The first time she had seen the leg without the foot she had felt ill. One day she ran into their bedroom, and there was Kate helping to strap on the stiff boot to the leg that seemed to end in a post above the ankle. She had run out without speaking, and it was a long time before she could look at the trouser leg and forget what it hid.

  Rodney’s voice came to her, saying, ‘I think I’ll phone Peter. There’s nothing wrong, but I’d like him to have a look at her anyway.’

  For a moment, the name of Cathleen’s father brought back with a painful leap the reason for her running, but she was suddenly too tired even to hate Cathleen. As she sank away, she was wishing vaguely that Rodney had never lived with the Davidsons for a year after he came back from the war, for then Cathleen wouldn’t have such a claim on him.

  How long had she been asleep? Annie didn’t know, but it was night when she awoke. She opened her eyes slowly, to see Kate sitting by the shaded bedside lamp. Her face was half turned away and her eyes were downcast; she was reading. Still feeling too tired to speak, Annie lay watching her. Kate was wearing her rose-coloured dressing-gown which seemed to draw lights from her burnished brown hair. The skin of her cheek looked warm and creamy. Even in worn-out and threadbare clothes Kate had always appeared beautiful to Annie, but now, in the clothes that Rodney showered on her, she had taken on a beauty that Annie would never have believed possible. At times, Annie found herself watching Kate as if she were a new person, for the clothes gave her an air that was unfamiliar. She had need of Kate’s arms about her, and to hear her voice and to see the kindness in her eyes, to be convinced that the wonderful clothes had made no difference. Years ago, when Kate worked at the Tolmaches’ house, they had bought her a new set of clothes every Christmas. But they weren’t like the clothes she wore now. These made her look…well…oh, she didn’t know the word for that look, and anyway she still felt too tired to bother.

  To the side of her, the door opened softly, and she closed her eyes: she didn’t want to talk, or to be given anything to drink; all she wanted was to go to sleep again.

  Rodney said, ‘Come on, my love, you’re not sitting here any longer. She’s perfectly all right; she’ll sleep until morning.’

  Kate’s answer vaguely puzzled Annie. She said, ‘I’ve keyed myself up all day to tell her, and now this had to happen.’

  Annie heard the merest whisper of a kiss, and smiled faintly to herself. It was no embarrassment to her to know that Mam and Rodney were kissing; rather, she experienced a feeling of joy for Kate, for she still remembered the long, long years after Kate had to leave the Tolmaches’ to go home to look after her mother, who was sick, when her days were filled with work and washing and living in dread of her terrible father. The thought of her grandfather, although safely dead these two years and more, still had the power to make Annie shiver.

  She was on the very border of sleep when further whispered words of Rodney’s dragged her back, filling her with sharp envy and resentment. She listened, her body becoming stiff. Mam’s words no longer puzzled her, but they were like arrows piercing her mind: Mam was going to have a baby. They were wondering if Annie would like it, how she would take the news. Rodney was saying, ‘Once she knows, she’ll love it. It’s better to tell her sooner than later.’ Would she love it? How could she love it? For it would have a father: it would have Rodney for a real father. Oh, why hadn’t Kate married Rodney years ago, before she was born, then all these years she wouldn’t have dreaded with that sickening shame the words ‘Annie Hannigan’s got no da!’

  On the fifth day of being in bed Annie felt quite well enough to be up, but Rodney’s orders were that she was to stay there for a week. For the first two days it had been nice to lie still in a strange, untroubled state of mind, while Cathleen seemed no more real than a witch in a fairy story. As for the knowledge of the coming baby, strange even to herself was the fact that from the very morning after she had learnt of its existence, she liked the idea. But gradually the pain caused by Cathleen’s treachery returned. Maybe it was not so poignant, but it was still a pain. And it stabbed anew when Kate, who was sitting by the window, said quietly, ‘Who were you running away from, dear, when you fell? We found your bicycle just inside the wood gate.’

  Annie answered haltingly, ‘I wasn’t running away from anyone, Mam.’

  ‘But you had been crying such a lot. Your face was so swollen.’

  Annie lay watching, through the bed rails, the fire dancing merrily. She still watched it when Kate came and sat on the bed and took her hand. ‘Was it Brian Stannard?’

  ‘No. No, not really.’

  ‘Then who was it? Cathleen? Was it Cathleen Davidson? Did she say something to you?’

  Annie stared at her. ‘How do you know, Mam? Why do you ask?’

  Kate smiled quietly down on her. ‘Because Cathleen doesn’t like either you or me, my dear. I’ve been waiting for some time for something like this to happen.’

  Annie felt her body sink inches into the bed with a feeling of relief. It was like being in the deep end of the pool and knowing there was a good swimmer beside you.

  ‘What did she say? Tell me, dear, and you won’t feel it half so much. Was it something about me?’

  Mam made things so easy; she seemed to simplify everything. Annie no longer felt alone against Cathleen, but she could tell her mother only part of what Cathleen had said. ‘Cathleen…she told someone that you…well, she said you and Rodney aren’t really married, because you weren’t married in a Catholic church.’

  It was evident to Annie that, like her, Kate had expected to hear something different, because for a moment she simply stared in surprise. Then she asked, ‘Was that all?’

  It wasn’t all. But Annie could never put into words anything touching on the subject that, in her mind, took the form of a triangle, with Kate at one point, a man without a face at a second, and a formless thing labelled ‘Shame’ at the third.

  This triangle had come into being on a Christmas Eve morning years ago when, realising she hadn’t a father, she had decided to give herself one and picked on the doctor to fill this position.

  She had told her best friend, Rosie Mullen, and Rosie had told Cissy Luck, and Cissy Luck had told her mother, and Mrs Luck had baited Kate in the street…That was a terrible Christmas Eve! No, she could never speak of this thing to Kate.

  Kate was saying, ‘You see, dear, Cathleen is very fond of Rodney, and she blames us for taking him away from her. So you must try and take no notice of the things she says, because it would upset Rodney if he thought there was bad feeling between you. You understand?’

  ‘Yes, Mam.’

  ‘After all, it is we who have Rodney, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh yes, yes!’ Annie snuggled down in the bed. Yes, they had Rodney. He was theirs now and for ever; he wasn’t just ‘the doctor’ any more, he belonged to them. Kate was Mrs Prince, no matter what Cathleen said. Oh, if only she was called Annie Prince instead of Annie Hannigan! But she would always be Annie Hannigan, nothing could alter that. Yet when she married her name would be altered, wouldn’t it? Yes, of course, when she was married. How soon could she get married, and who would she marry? Oh no, not Brian; she didn’t even want to be his girl, even if she had promised …

  ‘There then,’ said Kate, bending and kissing her; ‘let nothing worry you. Just think of the nice long Easter holiday you have. And remember, Cathleen will be leaving the convent for the art school one of these days, and then you won’t be troubled with her. And when she and her family come later, treat her as if nothing has happened, will you?’

  ‘
Yes, Mam.’

  ‘And we’ll say nothing to Rodney about this, will we? I mean, not being married in the Catholic Church; it would only upset him.’

  Kate went out of the room, but did not immediately go downstairs. In her own room across the landing, she stood by the window, biting her lip…That little cat! To say such a thing! She had thought Annie was about to tell her that Cathleen was taunting her with not having a father; it was just the kind of thing she would do. But to say she and Rodney were not married because the ceremony was not performed in a Catholic church was preposterous. Wasn’t all the strife this subject aroused finished with yet?

  She could hear again the old arguments, and Peggy Davidson saying, ‘But Rodney, you can’t ask Kate to be married in a registry office, she’s a Catholic.’

  She had tried to explain her changed views to both Peggy and Peter.

  ‘But you don’t attend any other church, do you?’ Peggy said.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, then, you are still a Catholic. You know you’re still a Catholic at heart, Kate, you know you are!’

  No amount of talking had convinced Peggy that Kate was not still a Catholic at heart; that was the very spot where she was not a Catholic. But in her happiness Kate had allowed herself to be persuaded, and a dispensation was asked of the bishop for, Rodney not being a Catholic, this had to be granted before a mixed marriage could be solemnised in church.

  It was not until she saw the revolt in Rodney, when he realised that the part required of him by the dispensation was the signing away of the spiritual liberty of any children of the marriage, that Kate knew she could not ask this of him; nor did she want it for herself. So they were married in a registry office.

  Father Bailey fought to the last to make her see reason, as he put it. And he told her he was frankly amazed that she could be so unrelenting in her attitude towards the Church, yet quite willing to promise him she would do nothing to prevent Annie from remaining a Catholic. When she agreed with Annie’s desire to attend the convent her decision made him scratch his head in bewilderment.

  Kate had said, ‘It may be the wrong religion for me, but I think it’s the right one for Annie; we are not all made alike, father: we are individuals. She is happy in it, I never was; she loves the pageantry and the feeling of one large family, I never did. From an early age I rebelled against it. I cannot distribute my love or affection. I have found it must be all on one thing or person, or nothing. I must go direct to the source, so to speak, for I have found that intermediaries create a sense of frustration in me. And the Church is so full of intermediaries. But Annie seems to draw comfort and peace from them, and I’ll never do anything, I promise you, to shatter that feeling. Although I sent her to a Protestant school when she was young, I never interfered with her going to church, and now she’s set her heart on going to the convent I’ll do nothing against it.’

  Looking back on that conversation with Father Bailey, Kate felt the old sense of foreboding returning. Why was one not allowed to work out one’s own salvation? Life had been hard enough, God knew, without having to fight the old battles over again. If she had chosen the wrong way, then she alone would suffer for it, for in making her choice she had not influenced Annie.

  As she went downstairs she heard three hoots of a car horn from outside, and unconsciously she straightened her back and gave a lift to her chin. Mrs Summers was already at the front door, and the first person Kate saw was Cathleen. She had run up the path ahead of her mother and Michael.

  Giving Kate a long stare that could have been insolent, she said, ‘Hello. Where’s Uncle Rodney?’

  Before Kate could reply Cathleen ran past her on her way to the study. And as Kate went down the path to meet Peggy Davidson, she realised it would take a lot of self-control to prevent Cathleen from seeing just how much she annoyed her.

  2

  They were all sitting round Annie’s bed, and the Easter gifts had been exchanged. But no real presents, as Cathleen thought of them. She was perched now on Rodney’s knee, with one arm round his neck, a favourite position of hers when subjecting him to teasing. From time to time she would turn his face to her and say, ‘Hello, pet. Know me?’ and wait for his eyes to twinkle and to hear him say, ‘You minx!’ or ‘You little devil!’ She used all the tricks she knew, for she was aware of Annie watching her. She was also aware that on the chest of drawers there were two large boxes, loosely covered with tissue paper. These were most likely presents Uncle Rodney had bought Annie. She wondered why he was so long in giving her hers…He had bought that Kate a beautiful new wireless, while they at home still had stupid old earphones. Everything at home was shabby. And look at this place Uncle Rodney had bought! Twelve rooms with beautiful furniture, and all the ground floor covered in the same thick red carpet, and the paint all white and egg-shell blue. And that Kate had a room just for herself, a rest room. Huh! a rest room for her, when she’d lived all her life in the fifteen streets! And look at her standing there with another new dress on, a yellow one, all soft and full.

  She jerked her head, tossing her short black hair about her face in attractive disorder, and her dark, luminous eyes flashed around the room from one occupant to another.

  She made her brother aware of her scorn as he sat looking adoringly at Annie; she put her own mother on tenterhooks, guessing what she would do next. As for Annie, that rabbit, she knew how to manage her. She thought, with satisfying glee, how she had already fixed her in a number of quarters. Her gaze came back to Kate and her feeling guided her in her desire to annoy this woman who now had all Rodney’s attention. She turned to Rodney, pulling his head close to hers, and whispered in his ear.

  Rodney listened; then with the slightest touch of sharpness said, ‘Come! Don’t be a silly girl.’

  ‘Cathleen!’ Peggy cut in, ‘behave yourself.’ It was as if she had been waiting ready to chastise her, so sharp was the exclamation following on Rodney’s words. She was now ill at ease, and said to Kate, ‘Do you think Steve will turn the car for me, Kate? I’m hopeless at turning it in that narrow lane, and we’ll have to be getting back.’

  Kate was saying, ‘Certainly, Peggy. I’ll go down and tell him,’ when the sound of a kiss made them all turn towards Rodney and Cathleen.

  Her arms wound tightly round Rodney’s neck, Cathleen was kissing him full on the lips. And when, with an embarrassed laugh, he attempted to loosen her arms, she snuggled closer to him.

  It was Peggy who pulled her to her feet, saying angrily, ‘Behave yourself, girl!’ Cathleen’s rejoinder was a deep, impish laugh.

  The room became very uncomfortable. Michael was standing up, looking furiously at Cathleen. ‘Why don’t you do something with her, Mother?’ he exclaimed.

  His mother turned her baffled gaze from one to the other. She looked helpless, and said to no one in particular, ‘I don’t know what things are coming to.’

  Kate felt that she must get out of the room at once, and she was glad of the excuse to go and find Steve. The feeling within her was not one of annoyance with a girl of fourteen, it was as if she were combating the personality of a grown woman. She suddenly felt that Cathleen, in some strange way, was threatening the happiness of them all.

  Not finding Steve in the garage, she asked Mrs Summers where he was.

  ‘I think he’s in his room, ma’am. But if you’re going down for him you’d better put your coat on—that wind’s enough to cut you in two.’ Kate slipped a coat over her shoulders and ran down the garden to the summer-house that had been converted into a bed-sitting-room for the chauffeur.

  Her knock on the door was answered immediately. ‘Steve,’ she began, ‘would you mind turning Mrs Davidson’s car for her? I’m sorry to trouble you, but even with your expert tuition I don’t think I’m capable of it yet.’

  ‘Why certainly; I’ll come right now.’ He threw the book he had been reading back into the room, closed the door behind him and buttoned his coat as he walked beside her up the garden.

>   She said again, ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Steve, just when you’re having a little time to yourself; we always seem to be needing you at odd hours. If it isn’t the generator it’s the boiler, and if it’s not that it’s—’ A terrific gust of wind whirled her coat over her head and muffled the rest of her words.

  His big hands clumsily coming to her aid, Steve said, ‘That’s what I’m here for, ma’am; I’m only too glad to be of use…I think you’d better put the coat on, this wind will tear it away.’ He held the coat while she struggled into it. Then they went on again up the path.

  They were almost in front of Rodney’s study window when Kate noticed Cathleen standing there. Her eyes, dark and deep, were staring unblinking at them, and they looked full of curiosity; they held some quality that Kate could find no word to define. She’s like the embodiment of a witch, she thought, a very old witch in a young body. With a startling certainty, she knew that this girl would have to be fought. She would have to fight both for herself and for Annie, and do it subtly if she wished to succeed.

  With a word, she left Steve and walked directly to the french window of the study, opened it and went into the room. She closed the window with slow deliberation, and as she took off her coat she smiled down on Cathleen, who now stood by the side of the window, still staring at her. ‘It’s frightfully windy,’ Kate remarked with a calmness she was far from feeling, for she had a great desire to slap that look from the dark, piquant face.

  Cathleen made no rejoinder, merely continued to regard Kate coolly, and Kate’s pose of calmness was slipping under this silence and unblinking stare when the door opened and Rodney came in, saying, ‘Ah, there you are, darling. Is Steve seeing to the car?’

  ‘Yes, dear; he’s doing it now.’

  Rodney turned to Cathleen. ‘This is where you are, is it, you little imp? Your mother wants you to say goodbye to Annie; they’re ready to go.’

  Cathleen’s demeanour had changed with the opening of the door. ‘All right, Uncle Rodney, I’m going now,’ she said, in a small-childish voice. She stood for a second smiling engagingly up at him, then ran from the room.