Sister's Trio Squad

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

I'll write! I promise!' she called, but her voice was

lost in the piercing whistle and outrush of steam that announced the train's departure. Lisa and Margaret stood and waved until the train had completely disappeared. 'Do we have to go back straight away?'

Margaret looked at the pale, tearful face and smiled. 'No, let's go and treat ourselves. We'll have tea and scones at Lyon's in Clayton Square, then, if you like, we'll go window shopping.

Lisa brightened up as they walked out into the

sunlight.

'Do

you

think she'll be all right?'

'Don't be an eejit, you know our Nancy, she can look after herself and I don't think Edward Vinetti will be quite so taken with her after she's lost her temper a few times. Although I think he may just be the right person to handle her.'

Over the tea and scones Margaret studied her sister. Lisa had been quiet and withdrawn ever since the night of the Talent Contest. She was probably worrying about Nancy, too. Oh, there you go again, she thought, fussing like an old mother hen! 'Are you feeling all right, Lisa? You look very pale and you've not been your usual bright self for days?"

Lisa stirred her tea slowly, wondering if she should tell her sister of her dread of being left alone with Uncle Bart. It would sound stupid. He was such an insignificant little runt of a man and besides, Margaret had enough to worry about. She was doing two jobs and virtually running the house as Aunt Maura, if let, quickly slipped back into her slovenly ways and wasn't above appropriating a few shillings when she thought she could get away with it. 'I'm just grand, truly. It's that place. I hate the job!'

Then we'll have to do something about it, won't we? Maybe Mr Vannin knows someone who has a shop; he seems to know everyone. 'No, don't go asking him, you've enough to do. I'll go

along County Road next Saturday afternoon." 'I'd try Frosts, it looks nice without being over-priced. In fact Mrs Rickard, Mr Vannin's housekeeper, told me that they are very reasonable and that a Miss Kay, I think she said, was a very pleasant woman. Ask for her. I'll feel happier myself when you're out of that place. I think Aunt Maura is right about the fumes, you've not been looking at all well, Lisa."

>

'Are you going to Mr Vannin's tonight?' 'Yes, it will take my mind off. other things.' Margaret sipped her tea. She enjoyed going to the big house in Walton Park more than she would admit. It was so quiet.

and peaceful. The rooms were large and airy and clean and there wasn't a shoddy or worn piece of furniture anywhere. Of course, she had only seen the hall, library and the small adjoining study where she worked and she often wondered what the other rooms were like, but she would never presume to take even the smallest peek. She had also realized that Lewis Vannin was on his way to becoming a wealthy man. He had had the foresight to invest his money in more property and more wagons, he was even toying with the idea of a motorized lorry.

He was very deferential in his attitude towards her, never once had he overstepped the bounds of pro priety. Conversation was restricted to business, although he sometimes enquired after her sisters, but never her au and uncle.

She had learned from Mrs Rickard that the "missus" had only died two years ago and that he did have children. Two daughters. The elder one, Elizabeth, was married and a right madam she was too, with a face that would stop a clock and eyes in the back of her head and God help anyone who dared to call her Bessie or Lizzie. She insisted on her full title, Mrs Elizabeth Winskill. Obviously Mrs Rickard disliked her intensely and she didn't have much time for 'that old skinflint', as she called her employer. 'He's as hard as a cargo of Irish confetti! Sorry, luv, I

didn't mean to offend,' had been her comments. Margaret had smiled and then laughed when she found out that 'Irish confetti' was a cargo of stone chippings. She liked the native Liverpudlians and their wry sense of humour. But she had tended to agree with the housekeeper when she had learnt that the other daughter was only ten years old and had been packed off to a Convent boarding school. 'So she doesn't get under his feet. He's no time for her at all, poor little thing! She was heart-broken over her Ma, she loved her Ma did Ellen. Course it would have been different if he'd had a son, never forgave the Missus for that!' Mrs Rickard had continued.

'But that wasn't her fault.' she had protested. "Try tellin' him that. Three she bore and three she buried, God rest her! He's a hard man, Margaret. Hard

and cold,' she had finished. 'Drink up your tea, Lisa or we'll have no time to look at the shops, Margaret urged, dragging her thoughts

back to the present.

They had been late getting back and Margaret had to dash off straight away to work, leaving Lisa and Maura to make the supper. After the meal was finished Maura got up and went into the hall, returning with her coat and a navy blue felt hat with a green ribbon around the crown. 'Have you been shopping then, aunt? It suits you."

Lisa felt bound to make some complimentary remar 'Aye, got it down Paddy's Market for a tanner. I can't afford ter go to them shops you buy things from!' 'I haven't bought anything since I've been here."

'No, but the other one bought enough for the three of you!'

She meant Nancy and Lisa bit her lip. She was missing Nancy already. Are you going out?' 'I am that.'

'Is Uncle Bart going too?"

Maura snorted, then tilted the hat at an angle over one eye. 'He is not. Me and some of the girls are havin' a night out on our own, just for a change.' Lisa gripped the edge of the table tightly as the

nameless dread crept over her. 'Can I come too?'

'No you can't! Sure, we don't want the likes of you lookin' down your nose at us and with those ears of yours flappin' and takin' everythin' in. Didn't you say you'd some mendin' to do and that you were goin' to write to your Ma?' 'Please let me come with you? I hate being on my own

and with Margaret at work

'Has the Divil addled your brain or what? Your Uncle

Bart will be in and there's nothin' in this house worth stealin' and doesn't everyone know it! When your Uncle Bart comes in, tell him not to wait up for me.' 'Where is he?'

'He'll be havin' a quick bevvy in the Black Horse after his work. He's entitled to that, isn't he?' Maura snapped. Lisa began to clear away the dishes. 'Will I put his supper between two plates on the hob?' Her question fell

on empty air. Maura had already gone.

Lisa had made three attempts at a letter to her Ma, trying to be cheerful and optimistic and not mention Nancy, and the table was littered with screwed up pieces of paper. She didn't hear Uncle Bart come in. She looked up and he was standing in the doorway. It was another trait he had that made her uncomfortable. She got up. 'I'll get your supper. Aunt Maura has gone out with some friends. She said not to wait up for her.' Lisa put the hot plate down on the table.

'Where's the other one?" 'She's out, working for Mr Vannin.' She went into the tiny scullery and began to scour the pans, hoping he would remain in the kitchen. It would be hours before Margaret got back. 'It's all dried up. I'm not eatin' that swill!' His voice

came from behind her.

She turned her head. You should get home on time, shouldn't you and not stay out drinking, then it wouldn't be ruined.' She tried to sound as sharp as Nancy. 'You're just the same as the other two, aren't yer? An

'ardfaced, interferin' little b***h an' with a mouth like a Parish oven!' She felt his hands on her shoulders and she tried to

wrench herself free but the room was too small and she was wedged between him and the stone sink. His face was close to hers and she could smell the beer on his breath.

'Well, Bart Milligan's 'ad enough of the lot of yer! I'll teach yer to 'ave a bit of respect!" His hand caught her across the mouth, snapping her

head back and she felt the salty taste of blood in her mouth. She screamed as she tried to claw at his face. She'd never realized he was so strong. She heard him yelp and curse and then he grabbed her by the front of her blouse. The thin cotton ripped. The screams died in her throat as she saw the expression in his eyes. If he touched her she would faint. She would be sick... her fingers searched frantically over the wooden draining board until they closed over the object she had been seeking. The bread knife. It shook in her hand but she managed to thrust it between herself and him. 'If you touch me, I'll kill you . . . I swear I will!' He backed away from her, his eyes riveted on the

wavering blade. 'Put that down now, Lisa! I didn't mean it, it was only a bit of fun.' She lunged at him. 'Fun!' Already her mouth was swol

len and the word was slurred. 'Get out of my way!' He shrank back against the wall as she stepped past him, the knife still between them, his eyes still following the blade.

Once in the kitchen she slumped into a chair, feeling dizzy and faint, but she had to get upstairs, away from him! She could lock the door and keep the knife with her. She got to her feet, swaying for an instant, then ran out and up the stairs.

'If yer tell them anythin' I'll say you threw yourself at me, an' don't think your Aunt Maura won't believe me, either. She 'ates yer all!' he yelled up the stairs after her.

Lisa slammed the door and locked it and then threw herself on the bed, the knife still in her hand. She was shivering yet her head felt as though it were on fire. She pulled the edges of her blouse together. He was the most repulsive man she had ever met and she hated him! She had to get away from him; she couldn't stand living under the same roof, never knowing when ... He had sworn he would get even with Margaret and now she knew what form his revenge would take. He knew she didn't have the same temperament as either of her sisters. He knew she was afraid of him. He would find other opportunities to torment and even attack her and she couldn't live with that constant fear!

She got up and went to the washstand. Her hair was tangled, her eyes like those of a frightened animal and her lip swollen and tender. She poured some cold water from the jug and washed her face. She would never feel safe ever again in this house; she'd have to go. She brushed her hair and took off the torn blouse, stuffing it in the mending basket, then she took a clean one from the chest of drawers. As soon as Margaret came in she'd tell her and they'd both leave. Margaret would find somewhere else. She sat down abruptly on the bed as another traumatic thought occurred to her. Margaret would send her home!

She was so confused and frightened that she began to cry noisily. She wanted to go home, but how could she? For a start she would have to travel through Dublin and from all accounts there was a full-scale battle under way there as the Free State Army tried to flush out the rebels in the Four Courts. And then when she got home, what would she find? The nightmare of 'The Troubles' descended again. The terror that reduced her to a jibbering i***t who screamed and jumped at every sound. The sight of her Pa's broken body when they had brought him home, and Fergal . No, she couldn't face all that again! And Maura did hate her, she would believe Bart, if Lisa tried to accuse him! Oh, Nancy had been right, they should have gone to America, they shouldn't have come here. She hated the place. They should have gone anywhere but here.

Round and round her aching head the thoughts and her hammered. She was trapped, there was no way out, nowhere she could go, no one to whom she could turn . . . she didn't even have any friends; the girls she worked with called her 'Miss Mouse' because she was quiet and didn't mix. Friends! The word was like a bell pealing through the fog that clogged her mind. Bernie! Bernie O'Hagan!

Lisa pulled out her coat from the wardrobe, search ing the pockets, praying she hadn't lost the now so precious scrap of grubby paper. No, it was still there, screwed up in a ball in one corner. She laid it on the windowsill and smoothed it out. She could just make out the words. 'Warwick Street, Glasgow'. She straightened up. If Bernie could get a job in Glasgow surely she could, and what had Bernie said about the shops on that street with a strange name? They were as fine as those in London. And accents wouldn't matter, for everyone had an accent in Scotland!