Hannah left the house in a blazing temper and walked swiftly in the direction of Cow Lane Bridge, near to tears. She had to stop the wedding taking place but how? She felt so hurt and angry that her dah hadn’t supported her, but instead seemed pleased that Bert and Alice were engaged. How could he when he knew what sort of monster his son was? If only Kenny was here. Why hadn’t he come home to Chester for Christmas, or at least written?
She walked along the towpath, thinking about how he had saved her from throwing herself in the canal, and could almost feel the strength in his wrists and the warmth of his coat as he had pushed her arms into the sleeves. He had always been so thoughtful yet what had she given him in return, very little. She felt ashamed, looking back on the times they had spent together and how she had always kept him that little bit at a distance. With a head full of memories she made for the Phoenix tower.
As she walked along the walls she gazed across the fields that were hoary with frost, and recalled their shared interests and how he could make her feel safe, as well as make her laugh.
She turned and gazed down into the city. It being Christmas Day there were very few people about. When she came down from the walls she went and stood opposite the shop, looking up at the windows of the apartment where they had been happy.
Why had Kenny gone off the way he had? Surely it couldn’t have been her telling him to act like a man and accusing him of having deceived her? And why go to Scotland? Who did he know there? He’d only been little when he left. Surely he wouldn’t remember where he had lived, unless someone told him, and the only person she could think of who might know where Mal Moran had stayed in Scotland was Mrs Black. Hannah was feeling desperate enough to snatch at any straw thrown at her. Could Kenny possibly have gone to the house in Queen’s Park? Maybe he had felt a need to go and tell Mrs Black that his father had been committed to an asylum. It could be whatever she had said caused him to go haring off to Scotland. Hannah made a decision and headed in the direction of Queen’s Bridge.
An icy wind whipped her skirts about her legs as she crossed the river; shivering, she prayed that her journey wouldn’t be a waste of time. She toiled up the road and it was only when she reached the top did she turn her head and gaze back the way she had come. Ribbons of mist were wreathing above the surface of the water and lights were twinkling on in the houses the other side of the river. How she loved this view, but this was not the time for romantic reverie; she would have to get a move on or it would soon be dark.
As Hannah passed the Waters’ house, she thought of Sebastian but the shutters were still up and she could only suppose that the family had moved or were away for Christmas. She hunched her shoulders against the cold, gazing into the garden where frost blighted plants looked a sorry sight, remembering the first time she had seen Sebastian and how Alice could not take her eyes from him. Why couldn’t she have been a bit more patient, a bit more trusting and a little less jealous? Things just might have worked out between the two of them.
Hannah carried on walking until she came to Mrs Black’s place. She hesitated outside the gate, looking up the drive to the house, then taking a deep breath, she pressed down on the latch and went inside. Before she reached the front door it opened. A woman stood there, her arms folded across her bosom. Her hair was jet black and looped in braids about her ears. She was wearing a cream collared, purple satin gown with long sleeves ending in cream lace cuffs, and a cameo brooch was pinned to her frock. On her hands she wore several rings.
‘I knew you’d come, Hanny Kirk,’ she said gravely.
‘You know me?’ As soon as the words were out, Hannah knew that was a daft question. Of course, this woman knew her, because if she was not mistaken she was Mrs Black.
‘Kenny put me in two minds whether I should stay here until you turned up, but I felt a certain responsibility for what happened to his father, so I’ve waited for you.’
Hannah wondered why she should feel responsible. It would have needed several men to hold Mal Moran down once he made up his mind to do something. ‘You know where Kenny is?’
A faint smile played round the woman’s lips. ‘Perhaps. He said I wasn’t to let you know where he was unless you came looking for him.’
So she had been right to come here! Hannah’s heart seemed to leap inside her just thinking that she was so close to finding out where Kenny was. Then she shivered as a gust of wind blew up her skirts.
‘You’re cold. Come!’ Mrs Black crooked her finger and beckoned her inside.
For a moment Hannah thought about what she knew of this woman, and felt slightly spooked, but then she thought of Kenny and followed her indoors. From a downstairs room came the tinkling of a piano and the murmur of voices and sudden laughter. So Mrs Black wasn’t alone in this house. Maybe the three sisters who taught music still lived here? The prospect comforted her. She looked about her, trying to remember if she had been here before but the red and gold wallpaper of the lobby and the staircase was unfamiliar.
Mrs Black went upstairs and Hannah followed her. The well-polished wood of the banister rail felt like satin beneath her cold fingers, and she could not take her eyes from the gold twisting shapes of the dragons on the wallpaper. She was led to a room on the first floor and Mrs Black ushered her inside.
Hannah blinked. The room seemed bright after the darkness of the staircase and landing. She noticed by the light of several lamps that there seemed to be a lot of heavy mahogany furniture in the room, and a Christmas tree, decorated with tinsel and red and gold baubles stood in a corner. The long velvet curtains at the window were drawn, and in the fireplace a fire burned.
Hannah faced the woman, but avoided looking her straight in the eyes. ‘Why did Kenny come to you? Why’d he go to Scotland? I thought he—’
Mrs Black raised her ringed hand. ‘Patience, Hanny Kirk. Come and sit over by the fire and warm yourself. Perhaps you’d join me in a glass of sherry and a slice of Christmas cake.’
Hannah controlled her impatience, thanked her, and sat down in what turned out to be a wonderfully comfortable chair covered in green leather. She held her cold hands out to the fire, wishing she had thought to put on her new Christmas gloves, and hoped she would not get chilblains.
A glass of sherry was handed to her and a china plate with slices of Christmas cake was placed on an occasional table close to hand. ‘Your good health, Hanny Kirk.’ Mrs Black lifted her glass.
To her surprise Hannah found herself toasting the woman’s good health as well. She sipped the sherry and reached for a slice of cake, realising it was a few hours since she had sat down with her family to Christmas dinner.
‘Naturally it came as something of a shock to you when Kenny spoke,’ said Mrs Black.
Hannah stilled in the act of breaking off a piece of marzipan, which she loved, and looked at her. ‘He told you that of his own free will?’
Mrs Black smiled. ‘Yes. I don’t always have to use my powers to get information out of people. You were easy to hypnotise because you were weak with worry and needed help.’
‘So you admit getting information about Mr Moran out of me and giving me that powder?’ Hannah’s voice remained calm but inside she was seething.
Mrs Black nodded gravely. ‘Because of your loyalty to your friends, I knew you wouldn’t have given it to me willingly. I had been so worried about Malcolm.’
‘Were you in love with him?’
‘Love! No! You could say that trying to save Malcolm from himself was my salvation after my husband died. I didn’t succeed, sadly. Although, I did rescue him from the cause of all his troubles.’
Hannah longed to know more but guessed this woman was not going to be rushed into telling her story.
Mrs Black said softly, ‘Kenny told me that you lost your sister and that your mother was in a state. If she would like to visit me we could try and get in touch with – Grace, is it?’
‘What?’ She stared at her, puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You still have no idea what I do then?’ The woman laughed. ‘Never mind. I’m not touting for business. I don’t need to but I’m still willing to help those who find the silence of the grave too terrible to cope with.’ She drained her sherry glass and then refilled it, remembering the first time Malcolm spoke to her after attending one of her meetings fifteen years ago. He was in such a state that she had agreed to see him privately. At first she had thought the problem was his wife Janet whom, he had told her, he loved dearly. She had died in Scotland, but in truth the real trouble was his mother. She had been evil. Her husband had deserted her and she had taken it out on her only son.
Mrs Black leaned towards Hannah. ‘Malcolm’s mother’s religion was the kind that gave her no pleasure. To laugh on the Sabbath was a sin to her. Imagine a young boy trying to live up to her standards. She was forever trying to beat obedience into him. He managed to escape when he was twenty-one, having met the lovely Janet McDonald. Unfortunately his mother tracked them down and that was the end of what might have been a long happy marriage, which could have been the saving of him.’
Hannah, who had been hanging onto every word, said, ‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘I’m telling you because Kenny has gone to see his grandmother.’ She held up a hand as if to ward off the words Hannah was about to speak. ‘Not his father’s mother but his mother’s mother.’
Hannah was flabbergasted. She had never thought about Kenny having grandmothers. She tossed off her sherry in one go and almost choked, breaking into a flurry of coughing. Mrs Black patted her sharply on the back and offered a glass of water. Hannah shook her head and managed to stop coughing. ‘How did he find out about her?’
Mrs Black smiled. ‘His father left certain information in my possession. More sherry?’
Hannah shook her head. ‘I don’t understand. His father was always horrible to him.’
Mrs Black rose to her feet and went over to a polished mahogany bureau over by the window. She unlocked the flap and took an envelope from the blotter there, and handed it to Hannah. ‘I thought Christmas might be the time when you would come. His grandmother’s address is in there.’
Hannah recognised Kenny’s handwriting and her heart seemed to turn over in her breast. She thanked her profusely.
Mrs Black raised a hand. ‘It’s the least I can do. I should have known better than to believe the different methods I tried could heal all the damage that woman did to him – the guilt he could never be rid of for long. Then he worked with lead, too, you see. It all took its toll.’ She sighed. ‘You’d better go now, dear, it’s dark and your family might worry about you. Come again if you can. I get lonely sometimes. Perhaps I need to rethink the future.’ There was a wistful expression on her face.
Not likely, thought Hannah, as the older woman saw her out. Although Mrs Black had helped her and so maybe… Hannah decided to think about it another time.
It was not until Hannah reached Northgate Street, where there was enough light by which she could read, that she tore open the envelope, too impatient to wait any longer.
Dear Hanny,
It seems that most of my life I’ve lived in fear, silenced by something I buried deep in my mind. Sometimes in dreams images would come to me. A woman lying on the floor, her face covered by her dark hair. I couldn’t remember who she was, but now I know she was my mammy, and that she was dead. Did I see what happened? I’m not sure but one thing I’ve always been sure about, there was someone else in the room. Now I know what happened that day. Dad wrote down my grandmother McDonald’s address for if I ever wanted to trace my mother’s side of my family; it must have been during one of his saner moments. I have to see her, so I’m off to Scotland. Maybe I’ll stay there. It all depends if you get to read this letter. If you can accept me as the person I am then, perhaps, there could be a future for us together. I love you. I’ve always loved you. If you write to me at the address at the bottom of the page I’ll be home on the next train.
Kenny.
Hannah read the letter twice, tears trickling down her cheeks. A future for them together meant marriage, and she had convinced herself that it was not for her. Perhaps she was wrong. Kenny knew she was no virgin and yet he still loved and wanted her. Perhaps they could make some kind of life together. At least they could give it a try. One thing was for sure and that was that he was the only man she could marry and be happy with. He would have to know the whole truth, of course. Suddenly it occurred to her that he made no mention of Alice in his letter. Perhaps Mrs Black had another letter in that bureau of hers addressed to his half-sister.
Hannah stared at the address at the bottom of the page. Then she folded the letter and walked the rest of the way home, scarcely aware of the damp slippery cobbles beneath the thin soles of her shoes. She was going to have to wait until the day after Boxing Day before she could buy notepaper and a stamp and write to Kenny, but tomorrow she would go and see Alice and tell her about the letter.
‘Hello, Hanny!’ Alice did her best to put on a smile as she held the front door open, but since Christmas Day, she felt nervous just looking at her old friend. Having made up her mind that nothing was going to stop her marrying Bert, she did not want Hannah persuading her otherwise.
Hannah smiled. ‘You got a few minutes? Only I’ve something to tell you.’
Alice’s eyes clouded. ‘Oh no! If it’s about Bert I don’t want to listen. He might have done things wrong, but so did you and Kenny.’
What was she talking about? Hannah rested her shoulder against the doorjamb. ‘It’s about Kenny. I got to thinking and so I went to visit Mrs Black. She invited me in, gave me tea and Christmas cake. She wasn’t a bit like I thought she’d be… and I found out what she does. She’s a medium.’
‘She’s what!’ Alice’s jaw dropped and her eyes were like saucers.
‘A medium – and she told me where Kenny was.’ Hannah smiled.
‘You must be mad! It says in the Bible you shouldn’t consort with mediums,’ gasped Alice, horrified.
‘Let me finish!’
‘No!’ said Alice angrily. ‘I’m-I’m not interested in anything that woman has to say. I can’t understand you, Hanny, going to her. She’s trying to trick you. I’ll not believe a word she says.’ Alice slammed the door in her face.
Hannah was speechless. She could scarcely believe that her friend had intended that. She hammered on the door. ‘Alice, you’ve got to listen to me. She gave me a letter from Kenny.’
‘I’m not listening. Go away! All you want to do is spoil my life. You’re just jealous.’
Jealous! There was that word again. Hannah almost choked on her anger. She could have a man, one who was worth at least ten of Bert! But if Alice wanted to believe she was jealous then let her. She would keep what she knew about Kenny to herself and Alice would have to live with her mistake.
The next day, though, Hannah changed her mind. She had to get Kenny to stop the wedding. She had been given money for Christmas by her dah, so bought what she needed to write to Kenny and set about penning a long letter. She unburdened herself, telling him of what Bert had done, and that although she loved Kenny more than she had realised, she was damaged goods, and would understand if he didn’t want to marry her. She told him about Alice and Bert being engaged and of the plan for Tilly to live with them and why that worried her. She signed it, All my love Hannah. She did not read the letter over in case she changed her mind about being so honest with him, then she posted it.
A week passed, and Hogmanay arrived, but there was no party and 1907 came in like a damp squib. There was still no Kenny, and no letter from him. Another week passed, and there was news of an earthquake devastating Kingston, Jamaica, which helped Hannah to put her worries into perspective for a short time. But she could not settle, anxious and nervous that perhaps Kenny had changed his mind since going to Scotland. Maybe he had met another girl, who was unsullied, and prettier.
Another week passed in which Hannah and Alice did not exchange a word. Jock read out with satisfaction that Lloyd George wanted to reduce the powers of the House of Lords. ‘The working man’s day is coming, lass. You just wait and see,’ he said.
Hannah was glad of it but it didn’t make her day. She wrote again to Kenny just in case the postal service had let them down.
In February, King Edward and Queen Alexandra visited Paris. Hannah wished she was going to Paris with Kenny on their honeymoon. She was completely down in the dumps. Still no letter or Kenny. Perhaps the grandmother no longer lived at that address. Perhaps she had waited too long before trying to find him; maybe he had believed that she didn’t want to get in touch with him and had moved on. That she might never see him again struck her like a physical blow. It hurt so much; she felt like a wounded animal, wanting to nurse the ache inside her. She could not bear to be near people, nor did she feel she could cope with the plans that were being made for the wedding, which had now been brought forward because Bert had found a house for his would-be bride and three-and-a-half-year-old sister-in-law. As well as that, Dolly’s husband was sailing home from India, so it made sense to be out of his way. Besides, according to Granny, Dolly wasn’t making life easy for Alice these days.
The final straw came when Alice surprised Hannah by asking if she would like to be her bridesMald. Hannah did not hesitate in refusing. For a moment she thought Alice was going to cry, but then she buttoned her lips tightly in a way that was becoming familiar to Hannah, and walked away.
Her mother was angry with Hannah. ‘You’re spoiling it for everyone with your moods. Perhaps you should go and stay with Joan until the wedding. Maybe by then you’ll have got over whatever’s wrong with you.’
The suggestion did not please Hannah because how would a letter from Kenny get to her, if her letters had been sent on to wherever he was now. She knew that she was clutching at straws but waited another week. When still no letter came, she packed some clothes and left for Moreton. Joan was glad to see her and set her to work.
Alice was upset. She stood on the pavement gazing up at the windows of the house where green damask curtains hung, thinking she should be happy, but instead she was miserable. For weeks she had tried to forget what Hannah had said about Mrs Black telling Hannah where Kenny was living. Now, with her wedding only two days away and the house probably ready for her and Bert to come home to, she could not stop thinking; not only about her half-brother, but Sebastian as well.
As she stood in front of her future home, she felt as if butterflies wearing football boots were zooming inside her stomach. Bert had painted the outside woodwork green, her favourite colour. While the house was not the one of her dreams, she knew that she was lucky having a home at all. Yet, here she was considering calling the whole thing off.
Taking a deep breath, she climbed onto the step and banged the knocker, knowing that Bert’s plan that evening had been to come here straight from work. The noise seemed to vibrate up the street causing several of the women gossiping outside their front doors to look her way. She heard her name mentioned and heat rose in her cheeks. Please hurry, Bert, I don’t like standing here with them all looking at me. Probably saying her father’s in the asylum, you know. That Bert Kirk really is a good bloke taking her on.
The next moment she heard the soft padding of feet inside, then the door opened and Bert stood there in his stocking feet. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up revealing bulging muscles. The handsome face looked pleased to see her. She was filled with dread. He was going to be hurt and who could blame him, but it would be wrong of her to go through with the wedding when she didn’t love him.
‘Hello, Alice! You all right?’ He did not wait for her answer but seized her arm and drew her inside. ‘Come and see the latest thing I’ve bought.’ He closed the door but instead of leading her into the kitchen he brought her against him and crushed her mouth with his open one.
She struggled, taken by surprise. It was not like him to be so rough. He released her abruptly and gazed down at her, a faint smile in his eyes. ‘Sorry! It’s just you’re so lovely. I can’t wait to make you mine.’ He fixed her with a stare. ‘You do understand? You do forgive me?’
‘Of course, I forgive you,’ she said instantly, rubbing her arms where he had grabbed hold of her. Oh God, this was going to be difficult. She didn’t know if she could go through with it.
‘What is it?’ He took hold of her chin and dropped a light kiss on her bruised mouth. ‘You’re looking worried. Something wrong?’
She took a deep breath. ‘Let’s go inside. I’ve been working hard all day. I’m tired.’
Reassured, he took her hand and led her into the kitchen. He had forbidden her entry into the house for the last fortnight, saying that he didn’t want her to see it until he had it all ready for her.
She sniffed cautiously. The house smelt differently from the last time she was here. Her eyes widened as she gazed at walls papered in a floral pattern and the new linoleum on the floor. There was even a carpet square in front of the fireplace. Oh, hell, he had gone to town doing the place up. This was going to be terrible! At the same time, she remembered how she had wanted to share in choosing how it was to be decorated, but he had insisted on his doing that, saying as it was his money, so his choice.
It had been the same with the furniture. Embroidered cushions were scattered on a country style sofa and a dark oak drop-leaf table was placed near the window. A clock ticked on the mantle-shelf that also held a matching pair of pottery dogs, two candlesticks and a jar of spills.
He took out a cigarette and taking a spill put it to the fire. ‘Mother chose the cushions and the dogs,’ he said, lighting his cigarette.
‘It’s nice.’
He frowned as he smoothed his fair hair back with a hand that trembled slightly. ‘Is that all you’ve got to say? It’s more than bloody nice and a whole lot better than you were used to.’
‘Yes, yes, it is,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s-it’s lovely, Bert. You’ve really worked hard.’
He beamed at her and rubbed his hands. ‘Shall we have a cup of tea?’
‘Let me make it,’ suggested Alice, taking the kettle from the hob and placing it on the fire. ‘I wasn’t sure whether you’d be alone.’
‘Mother’s not long gone. Hanny’s still away, you know.’ He looked morose. ‘I thought you might have got her to change her mind about being bridesmaid. I’d like her to see us get wed.’ He sat down on the sofa and patted the seat beside him.
Alice ignored the gesture. She did not want to talk about Hannah either. ‘Did she have Tilly with her?’
‘Sure she did.’ He smiled, placing his arms along the back of the sofa. ‘I love that kid. I want lots of daughters. It’ll be fun making them. You like children, don’t you, love?’
‘Of course, although I think a son would be nice,’ said Alice, flushing slightly, fetching the teapot shaped like a cottage from the table.
Bert fixed Alice with a stare. ‘You are pure, aren’t you, Alice?’ The cigarette stuck in the corner of his mouth jiggled up and down as he spoke.
She felt a tremor go through her. ‘Of course!’
He relaxed. ‘I thought so, only Dolly said something about you having a boyfriend once. I wouldn’t like to think you’d done anything with him.’ He drew on his cigarette while at the same time flexing his fingers.
That bitch Dolly, she thought, staring at him, a trickle of apprehension running down her spine, remembering her father’s habit of flexing his hands before he hit her mother. She couldn’t really believe Bert would hit her or do… anything at all but, suddenly she knew she had to get what she had to say over with quickly or she wouldn’t be able to go through with it. ‘Bert, I can’t marry you! It wouldn’t be fair on you.’
He froze. His expression was one of disbelief. Then he took the cigarette out of his mouth and said, ‘That’s not bloody funny.’ He got to his feet.
‘I-I… it’s not meant to be a joke!’ She clasped her hands tightly together to try and stop them from trembling. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry! Is that all you can say – sorry?’ His mouth trembled and he blinked his eyelids rapidly. ‘It’s our Hanny, isn’t it? She’s told you.’
‘Told me what?’ She backed away from him.
‘Don’t play games with me!’ His hand shot out and grabbed hold of her. Before she could prevent him, he pressed the lighted end of the cigarette on the side of her neck. She screamed with pain and tried to pull away from him but he slapped her across the head. ‘She told you! The bitch told you and you’re not prepared to forgive!’ He hit her again on the other side of her head and she would have fallen to the floor if he had not held her by the neck of her blouse. Slowly she lifted her eyes to him and saw his hand coming down again and knew that she should have listened to Hannah.