Sister's Trio Squad

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

She counted the money in her purse, grateful she'd been paid that morning. She had more than enough for her fare and some over to give Bernie for her keep. She felt a little calmer, but her courage was still shaky. It was a big step to take, to go to a strange city alone. She tried to pull herself together. She couldn't stay here and she wouldn't go home, so there was nothing else for it! She felt somehow older. If Nancy could do it then so could she! She'd have to leave a note for and she hoped she would forgive her and not worry too much. At least she could tell her the reason why. She could tell her about Bart, then she would understand.

Half an hour later her valise was packed and the note written. Lisa propped it up against the jug on the washstand so Margaret would see it. Then, with a last look around the room, she opened the door and walked down the stairs without a backward glance and slammed the door behind her.

As she went up the steps of number three, Walton Park, Margaret saw that the front door was open. She was late, but she hoped Mrs Rickard had left the door ajar for her so that Mr Vannin wouldn't notice her slipping in. As she pushed it open she noticed that every door leading off the hall was wide open and from the back of the house came the faint sound of raised voices. What on earth was going on? Usually everything was so quiet and orderly. Even the morning mail lay unopened on the hallstand. 'Miss O'Maxwell, would you come in here please!'

She turned to see Lewis Vannin in the doorway of what looked like the front parlour. She followed him into the room, but there was no time to take in the furnishings or the quality of the furniture, she followed his gaze to the sofa on which sat a young girl with soft grey eyes and long, light-brown ringlets. The child stared at her defiantly. 'You find me in a very awkward situation! This is my

daughter, Ellen.' 'Hello, Ellen.'

The child ignored her.

'Have the manners to speak when you're spoken to!" The child muttered something that passed for a greet

ing. 'Mr Vannin, what is going on here? Where is Mrs Rickard and why was the front door open?'

'Mrs Rickard has left. Gone! And all because of this

'he pointed to the girl... 'baggage!" 'Don't you think we should discuss this somewhere else?' Margaret had never seen him so angry and she had never heard him raise his voice before; he was almost shouting. Without thinking, she walked towards the door and he followed. He turned to the child. You stay there and don't move until I send for you!'

Margaret crossed the hall and went into the library and shut the door behind them. 'I know it's none of my business, but if it will help, will you tell me what has happened?'

He stood before the empty fire grate, his hands behind his back. 'My daughter has been expelled from the Con vent for stealing. Stealing! She has no need to steal, I provide her with everything she needs. And as if that isn't bad enough, Mrs Rickard takes the opportunity to tell me that I'm a hard, cruel man and that it's all my own fault. My fault! I told her to pack her bags and get out. I'll not for such impertinence. I've put up with that woman for too long and that little baggage could always twist her around her little finger. I've yet to deal with her!"

Well, this was certainly a revelation, Margaret thought. How wrong she had been when she had supposed that this was a quiet, well-run household. 'So, what do you intend to do? Are your maid and handyman here, or have they been sacked, too?'

'd**k and Annie are still here. At least they know which side their bread's buttered on." Then they will have to cope until you can find yourself

a new housekeeper, won't they?'

He cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed. 'I was wondering Miss O'Maxwell if . . well if you would consider taking the position? There'll be no trouble with the child, I'll attend to her! You will have a free hand with the running of the house and I will pay you ten shillings a week more than I paid that woman. Will consider it?' you

She stared at him in dumfounded silence. "Well, will you consider it?' he barked.

'I don't think I can, Mr Vannin. I have my younger sister to think about, I don't want to leave her on her own with my aunt and uncle. I'm sure you will under stand that.'

'Of course I can, but a man in my position must have a reliable housekeeper!'

And I'm sure there are plenty of ...'

'I don't have the time to go chasing around. Will you just consider the offer? If it's the child 'No, it's got nothing to do with Ellen!' Margaret

interrupted. Why did he insist on calling her 'the child'? You could go home each night, you needn't live in, if that's what's causing the problem."

'I've never kept house before, not a house like this, with servants.

He began to pace up and down. 'You are the most capable young woman I have ever met. You are efficient and honest and practical and I will be paying you a good wage.'

He was interrupted by a loud knock on the door which then opened slowly to reveal Ellen standing on the threshold.

'I want to go to the bathroom.' The grey eyes were still mutinous as she stared up at her father, but Margaret noticed the slight tremble of the lower lip. Before he had time to denounce his daughter again she turned to him.

'I'll consider it. I'll let you know in the morning, after Mass. You go to the Blessed Sacrament church, don't you?' She turned to the child. 'Go on up to the bathroom, Ellen, and then ask Annie to help you with your things.'

Lewis Vannin opened his mouth to remonstrate but thought better of it. Damn all women he thought, but at least she had some sense in her head and nothing seemed to ruffle her.

'I don't think there's much point in trying to do any work tonight, do you, Mr Vannin. So, I'll leave you. I'll give you my answer tomorrow. Goodnight.'

Margaret walked home very slowly, thinking over the situation until she had finally made up her mind. The sight of that rebellious little face had touched her deeply. She would insist on remaining with Maura and Bart, to make sure Lisa was all right, and she would also insist on a day off every week.

What a strange day it had been. Sometimes there were days like that when all kinds of things happened and then there were others far more frequent - when nothing happened at all, except the same dull things. She won dered how Lisa would take the news and that thought caused her concern. Lisa on her own was no match for those two conniving, bullying reprobates. She'd have to get something sorted out with Lisa.

As she opened the door and walked into the hall she realized that the house was unusually silent. She took off her coat and hat and hung them on the pegs behind the door. There was a strange atmosphere, something was not quite right, she could sense it. Oh, she was just being over-imaNancytive. She shook herself and went into the kitchen. Uncle Bart was sitting in his chair, the Echo that he was reading hiding most of his face.

Has Aunt Maura gone out? Margaret asked evenly. He rustled the paper as if in irritation. So what if she 'as?"

'Where's Lisa?"

Again he shook the paper, but she noticed that he seemed rather pale and was refusing to meet her eyes. In fact he looked even more shifty than usual.

'Well?'

"Ow the 'ell should I know where she is? Always comin' and going the lot of you. Get no b****y peace in me own 'ome."

She could see she wasn't going to get a civil word out of him so, after bidding him 'goodnight', she closed the door behind her, none too gently.

As soon as she opened the bedroom door she saw the note. She read it and then sank down on the bed. Oh, Lisa! Lisa! Why hadn't she told her of her fear of Uncle Bart? But wh hadn't she noticed it herself? He'd sworn to 'get even', but worrying about Nancy had blinded her to what was under her very nose. Now she realized the reason for the strange atmosphere and Uncle Bart's shiftiness and evasive answers. Oh, poor, poor Lisa! She must have been in a desperate state, totally distraught; unable to stay, but terrified of the thought of returning to Ireland. She'd failed Lisa and Lisa wasn't like Nancy who was well able to look after herself. But to go chasing off to Glasgow to find Bernie O'Hagan, of all people!

Margaret covered her face with her hands. What should she do? Go to the police? Try to follow her and bring her back? She didn't even know where Bernie lived and Glasgow was a big place. And if she found her what then? She couldn't bring her back here and Lisa wouldn't go back to Ireland. She was even more terrified of war than she was of Bart. Margaret looked at the note again and a tear dropped onto the page. 'He said if I told Aunt Maura he would say I'd led him on and she'd believe him, you know she would,' she read. And she would too; there was ill-concealed hatred between them all. Oh, why hadn't she seen this coming? They had all come here with such high hopes and now . . . At least Nancy had what she wanted. All she could do about Lisa was hope and pray that she would write and let her know she was safe and where exactly she was. The Lord above knew how she was going to break this to Ma. Perhaps she should start by writing to Nancy.

She looked around the room that only a few days ago had been filled with their laughter and bickering. Well, she wasn't staying here either! Lewis Vannin would have his answer and she'd live in. When Maura and Bart got behind with the rent again - which they were bound to do and soon - she would take the utmost pleasure in seeing them turned out on to the street, and first thing Monday morning she would inform the Panel of Bart's fraudulent conduct at their expense. Oh, she'd take great delight in watching the bailiffs go into number eighteen, Lancaster Street!

Lisa stood on the corner of Bedford Street and Warwick Street peering at the scrap of paper in her hand. Bernie hadn't given her the number of the house, but then there didn't seem to be any houses, only these large, closely packed buildings, the like of which she'd never seen before. It was dark and the jaundiced glow of the gas lamp made the street look sinister and ominous.

It had been a long journey and she'd had to change trains three times, but she'd kept her spirits up by spinning a web of daydreams. She had envisaged a Utopia encompassing all her desires, but all these romantic figments of imagin ation had been shattered as the tram crossed the Victoria Bridge spanning the oily waters of the Clyde and rumbled on into the Gorbals. She hadn't known what to expect, but she hadn't been prepared for anything like this! The three-storeyed, soot-blackened, decaying buildings flanked either side of the street. In between them were some small shops, little more than ramshackle sheds, and old stables, all of which were boarded up. Beneath her feet the pav ing stones were uneven, broken and littered with rubbish and small pools of filthy, stagnant water oozed between the cracks.

Lisa walked on slowly, her valise becoming heavier with every step she took. She'd have to ask someone. There were a few people about. Some youths loitering across the street, half in shadow, and a couple of urchins who reminded her of Bernie's younger brothers with their tattered, dirty jumpers, cut-down trousers and bare feet.

'Do you know where Bernie O'Hagan lives?' They stared at her, looked at each other, then shook their heads.

'But we'll carry your bag for ye, Missus, if ye'll gi' us a penny?' the bigger of the two said. Away with the pair o' ye, or I'll tell your Faether ye're beggin' again!'