A Daughter’s Sorrow

‘I’m sorry. I’ll stay behind tomorrow to catch up, if you like.’

‘And so I should think!’

‘It’s all right, Bridget,’ Mr Dawson said. ‘Just don’t make it a regular thing.’

‘No, sir. I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused.’

I left work the moment Mr Dawson said it was all right and ran all the way to the Sailor’s Rest. By the time I got there I was out of breath and my chest hurt.

Mrs Macpherson was behind the counter in the lobby when I went in. A seaman was settling his account and I waited until she had finished serving him before approaching her.

‘May I please see Lainie for a few minutes? I promise I won’t stop her working. I have to get back myself—’

‘I’m afraid you can’t,’ she interrupted, looking annoyed.

‘I’ve got time off work specially. It’s very important, Mrs Macpherson.’

‘I dare say it is,’ she said, a sharp note in her voice, ‘but you can’t see her because she isn’t here. She took her things and left this morning.’

‘Where did she go? Did Hans come for her?’

‘Not to my knowledge. She didn’t say where she was going. She told me she’d had a better offer and went, just like that. It didn’t matter that I would be one short in my staff, but that’s your sister all over. I’m disappointed in her, Bridget. It’s my opinion she went off with a man.’ Her mouth had gone thin and hard, her eyes cold.

‘But who? She was going to marry Hans … She cared for Hans. I know she did … Why would she go off just like that with someone else?’

‘Perhaps she had big ideas all of a sudden. Don’t ask me what your sister had in mind – and don’t ask any more questions. I’ve too much work to do to stand gossiping to you!’

She turned her back on me and went through to her office, leaving me to stare after her in bewilderment. Bridie was very angry and I sensed that there was more to it than simply being let down by a girl who worked for her.

Lainie’s sudden disappearance left me concerned as to how I would pay for my next visit to the doctor, but when I went back there just three days before Christmas he told me I wasn’t to worry.

‘You can pay me when you have the money,’ he said kindly and I could see that he was wondering how to tell me the news about Tommy. ‘I am afraid Tommy is a very sick boy, Miss O’Rourke. I suspected it last week when I examined him and the tests I did seem to indicate that he has all the early symptoms of consumption.’

‘Does that mean he’s going to die?’ I asked fearfully.

‘Because he is still at an early stage, Tommy may be treatable,’ Dr Morris said. ‘We don’t really know enough about the disease, but in some cases rest, fresh air and good food may help – none of which is available to him in his present circumstances. Your brother is seriously undernourished, Miss O’Rourke.’

‘He doesn’t always eat what I give him,’ I said, feeling hot all over. He made it sound as if we starved Tommy, but I made sure he got the best I could manage. ‘He likes fruit but we can’t often afford that …’ I took a deep breath. ‘Someone told me about a place the church runs at the seaside …’

‘That would certainly be a good idea. I am afraid I can only offer the infirmary – unless you can find the money to send him away yourself.’

‘You won’t send him there yet? Not before Christmas?’ I asked, my stomach beginning to tie itself up in knots.

‘No, but you are going to have to keep him away from school. He could be infectious to other children – and your own family. I can give you a little time, but eventually it will have to be isolation at the infirmary if this charity thing doesn’t come through.’

‘As long as we have Christmas. I need a little time to prepare him …’

‘Yes, of course. I understand perfectly,’ the doctor said. ‘I don’t like this any more than you do, Miss O’Rourke, but I don’t have a choice. If neglected, Tommy is just going to get worse.’

‘Yes, I know,’ I said. ‘I know what I have to do, doctor, but not until after Christmas.’

Mam was sitting in her chair by the stove when I went in. She hadn’t done a thing all day and there was a pile of ironing waiting for me to start. ‘So you’re back then,’ she said sourly. ‘You can go up—’

There was a knock at the door before she could finish and I went to answer it. Ernie Cole was standing on the doorstep, cap in hand. He looked at me awkwardly, as if unsure of my reaction.

‘Ma sent this,’ he said and held out a parcel wrapped in greaseproof paper. ‘She made too much cake mixture and this was left over …’

I glared at him, tempted to thrust his gift back in his face, but then I remembered Tommy. A cake was a cake and I had little enough to spend on my brother as it was.

‘Thank Mrs Cole for me,’ I said stiffly. ‘It was kind of her to think of us. Tommy will enjoy it.’

‘It’s nuthin’ much,’ he said, seeming relieved that I hadn’t yelled at him. ‘Is there anythin’ I can do fer yer, Bridget? Chop wood or—’

‘Thanks but I did that this morning.’ He nodded and turned away. ‘If I don’t see you before – Happy Christmas, Ernie, to you and your ma.’

He looked back at me and grinned. ‘You’ll see me, lass. Don’t forget Mr Dawson has promised us a bit of a do at the brewery Christmas Eve. He’s closin’ at two so we can all ’ave a mince tart and a glass of ale before we go home.’

‘Bridget!’ Mam’s voice called from the kitchen. ‘Stop gossiping and come here.’

‘I have to go,’ I said. ‘Thank your ma for the cake.’

Mam glared at me as I returned to the kitchen. ‘What have you got there?’ she demanded. ‘We don’t want charity.’

‘It’s a piece of cake for Tommy. He’s entitled and he’s having it.’

She sniffed and drew the whisky jar to her, pouring what was left into the glass. Finding there was no more than a mouthful she pulled a face and took some coins from the shelf.

‘Go and fetch me a jar.’

‘It’s dark out, Mam. I’ll get it in the morning.’

‘You’ll get it now!’ She sprang up and lunged at me, catching my head with the flat of her hand. ‘You’ll do as you’re told or I’ll make you sorry.’ She lifted the hot iron from the fire and threatened me with it. ‘You’ll get a taste of this in a minute.’

I went out without looking at her.

It was cold and dark in the lane and I hugged my shawl tightly about me. I hated having to go to the pub after dark because I was always afraid that Harry Wright might be hanging around, although I hadn’t seen him since the night he attacked me.

I ran all the way to the Feathers. As I came out, I shivered in the cold wind, catching the stink of the river, and then I began to walk very fast in the direction of my home. When I heard the echo of footsteps behind me my heart took a leap of fear, but I refused to look back. I couldn’t go on fearing an attack from Harry Wright for the rest of my life.

Besides, it wasn’t Harry. Why should it be? I hadn’t seen him in the lane since that night. He probably believed I had told Jamie what he’d done and would stay well clear.

‘Bridget!’ I heard the voice call to me. ‘Bridget, wait for me!’

It was Jamie’s voice. I stopped walking and turned as he came striding up to me.

‘Oh, Jamie … Is it really you?’ If it were not for the whisky jar I would have flung myself into his arms and hugged him.

‘Sure and it’s the very same,’ he said, his eyes bright with devilment. ‘Who else would it be?’