Kate Hannigan Page 4

  ‘Oh, I have, Mrs Mullen! Miss Tolmache is wonderful; and so is Master Rex, and Master Bernard. But, here I am, ma’ - she turned to her mother - ‘talking about my clothes and forgetting all about Annie. How is she?’ Kate knelt down by the clothes-basket.

  ‘Now leave her be, Kate, and let her sleep, for she’s the devil’s own imp when she’s up,’ said Sarah.

  Kate gazed down at the sleeping baby; the dark lashes lay upcurled from the pink cheeks, the silver hair gleamed on the pillow. A rush of feeling, so intense as to be suffocating, swept through Kate; her thoughts encircled her, shutting out all but her desire…John! John! If you could only see her; she’s so like you. Oh, where are you? I must know whether you are at home. I won’t make any claim on you, I’ll never mention marriage; only I must see you, I must show her to you. I’ve got a whole week. I’ll phone the Jacksons’ today, they’ll know if you’re back; you said about eighteen months. And when you see me in my new clothes, and see how different I am in other ways, too…

  ‘My God, listen to that!’ exclaimed Mrs Mullen, in a hoarse whisper, as a hullabaloo sounded through the thin wall of the kitchen. ‘Cowboys and Indians!…Oh, Sarah, hinny, I must be off. See you later, lass.’ She patted Kate’s shoulder as she hurried out.

  ‘Come on, lass, get your things off and have a cup of tea,’ said Sarah.

  ‘Never mind the tea, ma,’ said Kate, getting up; ‘just look what I’ve brought. Clear the table.’

  She took off her hat and coat, and lifted the case onto the corner of the table. When it was opened, Sarah exclaimed, in amazement, ‘But, hinny, she didn’t give you all that stuff?’

  ‘She did, ma. Look! A chicken, tinned peaches, a tongue, a box of cheese’ - Kate named each article as she took it out of the case - ‘dates, a pudding, a cake…’

  ‘You’re sure she gave you them all, Kate?’ ‘Ma!’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, lass. I know you wouldn’t touch anything that didn’t belong to you; it’s only I can’t imagine anybody so good.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Kate, stopping the process of emptying the case and staring, unseeing, at the picture of Lord Roberts hanging on the wall above the chiffonier; ‘it took me a long time to get used to it. At first I couldn’t believe that anyone could be so kind and not want something back. I feel terrified, ma, when I think they’ll soon die; Miss Tolmache is the youngest, and she’s seventy!’

  ‘But the old gentleman must be hale and hearty to look after greenhouses and grow bulbs like them,’ Sarah pointed to the window-sill.

  ‘Oh, yes; they are all very healthy, but some day they must die,’ said Kate.

  ‘Oh, lass, don’t be so mournful. There they are, off to Newcastle to spend their Christmas in an hotel so as to see a bit of life, and you talk of them dying. Folk like that seem far from dying to me.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so; this is the tenth Christmas they’ve spent in that hotel. You know, ma, when I set them to the train this morning they waved to me just like three schoolchildren…Do you think money keeps you young, ma?’

  ‘I don’t know, lass; I only know that work and worry can make you old before your time. But, hinny, don’t let’s get doleful.’

  Sarah looked hard at her daughter…There was something different about her Kate; it wasn’t only that she was taller, it was her manner, and the things she said, and the way she said them…Kate gave her part of the explanation in her next words: ‘I haven’t told you, ma, but I’ve been having lessons.’

  ‘Lessons?’ queried Sarah.

  ‘Yes, from Master Bernard. I’ve had an hour each night. He’s teaching me English, how to read and write it, and how to speak it.’

  ‘But, lass, you can read and write better than the next, and you’ve always talked better than them around these doors.’

  ‘But, ma, this is different; I’m learning grammar…nouns and pronouns, adjectives and adverbs…’

  ‘Adjectives and adverbs!’ Sarah looked at her daughter in amazement. ‘But what good is it going to do you, hinny? Don’t let them put ideas into your head, lass…you’ve got to work for your living.’

  ‘Oh, ma, don’t worry.’ Kate smiled tenderly at her mother, and touched her rough cheeks with her fingers. ‘It’s only that you can understand things better when you can read properly and when you know what books to read…Look!’ She went to her purse and took out two sovereigns. ‘One from Master Bernard with which to buy books…he says he’ll know how much I’ve learned by my choice of books…and the other from Master Rex, who says I’ve to stuff myself with chocolates and to forget about the books.’

  ‘Two pounds! Oh, lass!’

  ‘Yes, ma; and here’s one of them…that’s my Christmas box to you, and I must keep the other to get the books.’

  ‘Kate, lass, I’ll not take it.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, ma; I don’t want it. With all my new clothes and everything, there’s nothing I want…And I’ve another bit of news…I’m getting a two-shilling-a-week rise next year!’

  ‘No!’

  ‘I am.’

  Sarah sat down on the kitchen chair. ‘You know, lass, all the good things are happening together. God’s good,’ she added. Then, as if to question the Deity, her thoughts swung to Tim upstairs. But even the thought of him could do nothing to dim her gladness this day; it even evoked a spasm of pity. ‘Would you mind, lass,’ she asked, ‘if I bought him an ounce of baccy out of this?’ She motioned to the sovereign in her hand.

  ‘No,’ said Kate, without looking at her mother. ‘How is his leg?’

  ‘Just about the same; it doesn’t seem to heal up. The doctor said he should be in hospital; but you know he won’t go because they’ll send him to Harton. The doctor explained it wouldn’t be the workhouse side, but it’s no use, he just won’t go.’

  ‘Will he walk again?’

  ‘Oh yes; the bone isn’t broken; only the dirt got in, with him dragging himself home from the docks and having to wait until the doctor came.’

  They both started slightly as a knock sounded on the front-door…‘That’s the doctor, now,’ said Sarah, running her hand over her tightly drawn hair and smoothing her white apron.

  Kate stood by the table and watched her mother go through the front-room. She felt embarrassed and shy; she had not seen the doctor since a fortnight after Annie had been born, when she sat, swathed in a blanket, before the bedroom fire, and here she was now all dressed up.

  The front-door opened and a voice said, ‘Morning to you, Mrs Hannigan.’

  Sarah answered, ‘Oh, good morning, Father,’ in a toneless voice.

  The priest entered the kitchen, and the pin-points of his eyes through the thick glasses took in all before him in their slow movement from right to left. They saw the table laden with food, and not ordinary food; they saw the fur-trimmed coat and hat lying on a chair; and, in the centre of the kitchen, dressed in rich cloth and silk, with the fire-light playing on the shining coils of her hair, piled high in no respectable fashion, they saw a tall girl, who had sinned, and who, doubtless, by the evidence of his eyes, was still sinning. The thin lips parted…‘Well, Kate!’

  ‘Good morning, Father,’ said Kate, her colour rising slowly under his cold stare. Sarah had no need to look at the priest’s face, or to hear his tone, to know what was in his mind.

  ‘Do have a chair, Father, and have a look at all the lovely things Kate’s mistress has sent us for Christmas; and look, Father,’ Sarah said, holding out Kate’s coat and hat across her arms. ‘Miss Tolmache had this costume made, and the hat too. And look at the shoes that she bought, and the blouse.’

  The priest did not take his eyes from Kate. ‘Your mistress bought you all these things, Kate?’

  ‘Yes, Father.’

  ‘She is indeed kind; a most unusual mistress. No, Mrs Hannigan, I won’t sit down.’ He motioned away the chair that Sarah held out. ‘Is she a Catholic, Kate?’

  ‘No, Father.’

  ‘No? Then of what religion is she?’
/>
  Kate glanced from the priest’s face to her mother’s, then back to the priest’s again. She straightened her back and lifted her head from its respectful droop. ‘No religion, Father.’

  There was a pause during which the priest and Kate stared at each other, and Sarah tried to signal Kate to silence by the entreaty of her eyes.

  ‘No religion! An atheist! And you are content to work there?’

  ‘They are very kind, Father.’

  ‘So is the devil, when he sets himself out.’

  ‘They are good, Father!’ Kate’s voice had risen. ‘They are wonderful people; they are better than anyone I’ve ever known.’

  ‘Kate means they are kind, Father,’ Sarah put in anxiously; ‘she means…’

  ‘I know what Kate means, Mrs Hannigan,’ answered the priest, without looking at Sarah; ‘I know quite well. When were you last at confession, Kate?’

  ‘Three months ago, Father.’

  ‘Three months! Father Bailey and I myself will be hearing confession from six until eight tonight. I’m just giving you the times in case you’ve forgotten, Kate. Perhaps I’ll see you at the altar rails at Midnight Mass, and I hope you will have a happy and holy Christmas…And now, Mrs Hannigan’ - he turned to Sarah - ‘I will go up and see Tim, for, with all his faults, it will be a great sorrow to him not being able to attend Midnight Mass.’

  The priest opened the stairway door and his short, spare figure disappeared into the dimness. Sarah watched him climb the stairs, and when he reached the top she softly closed the door and turned to Kate, who stood now, with one foot on the fender and her arm along the brass rail below the high mantelpiece, staring down into the fire.

  ‘Oh, lass!’ said Sarah, ‘you should have said you didn’t know what religion they were; you know what he is. Now, if it had been Father Bailey, he’d have understood.’

  ‘Classing them with the Devil!’ muttered Kate. ‘They’re the kindest and best people on earth.’ She turned to her mother: ‘Mr Bernard talked to me about God one night, ma. And he said if I found faith in God through the Catholic religion, I had to hang on to it with all my might; for the greatest disaster in life was to lose one’s faith. And then, him a priest, speaking of them like that!’

  Sarah stared at her daughter…Yes, Kate was changing; she was talking differently already…A little shiver passed through her, and she uttered a silent prayer that in the change her child would not drift away from her.

  ‘Miss Tolmache said if I wanted to go to mass on a Sunday morning I could.’

  ‘And have you gone, hinny?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Ah, lass. And he never asked you that…he likely will when he comes down.’ Sarah glanced uneasily at the stair door. ‘Look, hinny; go on down to Shields and buy your books.’

  ‘Ma, I’m not afraid of him; I can’t imagine now why I ever was…I’ll tell him I haven’t been.’

  ‘Oh, God in Heaven, don’t do that! He’ll tell Tim, and then…Oh, lass, go on out! I don’t want any more rows.’

  ‘But, ma, I haven’t seen Annie yet.’

  ‘Oh, she’ll sleep for another hour, she was up at six. Go on, lass, and get your books; go on before he comes down.’

  Kate looked steadily at her mother. ‘All right, ma.’ She picked up her coat and hat. ‘But why should a man like that be allowed to scare the wits out of people? He’s terrified me for years, in fact up to this last few months. After all, he’s only a man, ma.’

  ‘Hinny!’ The horror in Sarah’s voice conveyed itself to Kate, and she said, ‘Oh, don’t look so shocked, ma; I didn’t mean anything.’

  ‘He’s a priest, lass,’ said Sarah, with as much reproach as she could find it in her heart to use to her daughter.

  ‘Yes, I suppose he is,’ said Kate dully. She put on her hat and coat. ‘But why should he have the power to frighten people?’ she asked, looking at her mother through the small mirror hanging on the wall. ‘All right,’ she added, as Sarah clasped and unclasped her hands, ‘I won’t say any more; I’m going.’ She turned, and smiled suddenly, a soft, illuminating smile, and, bending forward, kissed her mother swiftly on the lips. ‘Ta-ta, ma; and don’t worry, I’ll go to confession and communion tonight…But I’ll not go to confession to him,’ she added, pulling a face.

  From the front door, Sarah watched Kate go down the long narrow street; she watched her until she was lost in the muck and gloom of the day. Then, with a sigh, she turned indoors. There was all this food, she had a whole sovereign, she had a present that Kate wouldn’t let her see until tomorrow, and she had Kate. It’s funny, she thought, as she cleared the table, I had a surprise sovereign last Christmas Eve too.

  Immediately Kate was outside, one thing, and one thing alone, filled her mind: how was she going to word her telephone call to the Jacksons. She turned into the main road from which the fifteen streets branched off; walked between the tram sheds and the chemical works, and came to the Jarrow Slacks, with the great timbers, roped together in batches, lying helpless on the mud like skeletons unearthed in a graveyard. She passed the New Buildings opposite, similar in design to the group she had just left, and walked on down the long road connecting East Jarrow and Tyne Dock, past the saw-mill, through the four slime-dripping arches, and into the heart of the docks. She passed the dock gates and stood on the pavement, waiting for a tram that would take her into Shields; and she wasn’t aware of standing there, so familiar was the scene and so urgent was the need to make a choice of words for the telephone call. Trimmers stood in groups, a little apart, as befitted their superior position; men gathered in batches, awaiting the choice by gaffers for the unloading of grain or ore boats; strings of coolies, in single file, passed up and down the dock bank, bass bags, full of fish, swinging against their thin, shining legs; sturdy, brass-buttoned captains strolled, with conscious insolence, into the dock offices, or across the road to one of the line of public houses, that stood wall to wall, filling a whole street, even continuing up the dock bank; sailors of all nationalities pushed in and out of their doors; and Kate stood among this seething life, utterly unconscious of anything but her own great need.

  Heads were turned towards her; remarks passed between men; women, some of whom knew her, stopped and stared…That’s young Kate Hannigan. You know, her who got dropped last year. Look at the way she’s got up! My God, like the Duchess of Fife! It must be a paying business…A chief engineer, catching sight of Kate as he crossed the road, changed his course and came and stood within a few feet of her, presumably waiting for a tram, his eyes devouring her hungrily.

  Even when Kate reached the Shields post office, and had passed her money across the counter, and had waited until her call was through and was directed to the nearer of the two boxes which stood in a corner, even then she was still not clear in her mind what she would say. She was quite used to this wonderful invention, for Miss Tolmache had a telephone, and it was part of Kate’s pleasant duty to answer it; whereas at the Jacksons the housekeeper had allowed no-one of the staff but herself to touch the instrument.

  She heard a buzz at the other end, and a voice said, ‘Hello! Who’s speaking?’ Kate was stricken dumb; it was Mrs Hanlin, the housekeeper herself. ‘Hello!’ the voice said again. ‘This is the Jackson residence.’ Alter your voice; try to speak like Miss Tolmache, said Kate, wildly, to herself.

  ‘Hel-lo!’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Er…is Mr Herrington…at home?’

  ‘Mr Herrington?’

  ‘Yes. I mean, has he returned from abroad yet?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Kate leaned against the side of the booth for support. ‘He came home three weeks ago. Who’s speaking?’

  ‘I’m…I’m a friend of his. Is he at home now?’

  ‘At home? Oh no. He’s on honeymoon; he was married by special licence last week…Are you there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘They’ve gone to America, where Mr Herrington is going to lecture…What did you say?…Oh, who did he marry?
Why, Miss Scott-Jones, of course, they were engaged before he left for Africa, the year before last…Can I give his sister, Mrs Jackson, any message? Hello!…Hello!’

  Kate hung up the receiver and walked out of the booth. An old woman in a long black coat and bonnet touched her arm: ‘What’s the matter, hinny? Are yer not feeling well?’

  ‘I’m all right, thank you,’ said Kate, and walked away…Oh, John! John!…Miss Scott-Jones! You never said; no-one ever said; and she was so ugly. Oh, Holy Mary, help me! He’ll never see Annie now. He couldn’t have even loved me, after all he said; not even when he…Oh, I must sit down…

  She went into a café, and sat in a corner, with her back to the room, oblivious of the stares and chatter of the Christmas shoppers. She ordered a cup of tea and sat sipping it…The purpose had suddenly been taken out of living, and the sick hopelessness of the period before Annie had been born returned. Her efforts of the past year had been for nothing; for she admitted to herself now that there had been but one aim in her desire for knowledge; to be different; one aim that made her such an apt pupil and evoked the praise and encouragement of Bernard Tolmache.

  She felt very young and helpless; all the magnificent feeling of the morning had fled. She wanted to cry…She mustn’t cry here, she told herself, she must wait until she got home. But then, she mustn’t give way there, either; for what would her mother think? She knew nothing about John. She had asked her only once who the man was, and, on her stubborn silence, had not pressed the point. And it was strange, she thought at this moment, that her da, of all people, had said nothing; only glared at her silently. And always his glance had left her and rested on her mother, with an expression for which Kate could find no words to define…No, she mustn’t go home and cry, because it would upset her mother; and she had looked happier this morning than Kate had ever remembered her looking before. She’d have to wait until she was in bed…And then there was Annie. Gone now was the hope that she would have a da. This disappointment added to her own wretched feelings, and she realised how much she had been banking on that.