Sister's Trio Squad

Chapter 30

Chapter 30

'So, that's it! That damned woman!" she exploded. So this was Maura's way of getting back at her. 'I want to hear no more about it from either of you and you can tell your friend Emily, and her Ma, to tell my dear aunt that she'd best look for somewhere else to live, because I swear to God that Mr Vannin will put her out on the street when he hears of this!'

Annie began to cry noisily. 'Oh, Miss O'Maxwell, I didn't mean to repeat it. Honestly, I didn't. Oh, I'll get the sack and I'll not get another job like this and I don't want to leave!"

'You should have thought of that, shouldn't you? Before you passed on these vicious lies.' 'Oh, you won't tell Mr Vannin, will you? Oh, please,

Miss O'Maxwell!' 'I won't tell him tonight, but first thing in the morning I intend to go and see my aunt and put a stop to this. But if he decides to sack you when he does hear, Annie, you've

only got yourself to blame!'

As she set the tea tray down on his desk Lewis Vannin noticed that Margaret's hands were shaking. 'Is something wrong? You seem upset?'

'No, nothing! I . . . I had a letter from my mother today saying things at home are getting worse.' 'I know, the papers are full of it, but try not to worry about it as long as your mother and brother are well.'

'Oh, they are. If you don't mind, I think I'll retire early tonight. Goodnight.' 'Goodnight.'

Lewis Vannin drank his tea slowly. The only time he'd ever seen her so disturbed was the day Ellen had been expelled from Seafield Convent. It was more than events at home. Had Ellen been causing trouble again? he wondered. Or was it Elizabeth? Elizabeth would try the patience of the Virgin Mary. He heard a scraping at the door and turned, watching the door handle move slowly. It was Ellen, in her night dress, her feet bare, her hair falling over her shoulders. The sight of her startled him; she looked just the way Molly had when they'd first been married. 'Ellen, what's the matter?'

She shut the door quietly behind her and padded across to his chair. 'Pa, I... I don't want Margaret to go away!' Go away? Is she thinking of leaving?' His tone was

brusque. Was that why she'd been upset?

'If our Lizzie hears about what they're saying, she'll

have to go away! Pa, you won't let her go, will you?' He was irritated. What on earth was the child blabbering about? Who are "they" and what have they been saying that it should affect your sister and me?'

'Annie said...' 'Servants' gossip! What did the girl say? Come on, Ellen, out with it!"

Quite flatly she told him.

He looked away from the wan little face, shocked. No wonder she'd been upset. 'Go back to bed, Ellen.'

'But Pa...

'Go to bed!' She turned and padded silently out of the room.

He was numbed. He was a man of some standing in the community and to be talked about by all and sundry like that! He rose and poured himself a large whisky and gulped it down. It was intolerable! Intolerable! That foul-mouthed little kitchen s**t would get her cards tomor row! He'd get to the bottom of this! And d**k Watson! The man wasn't exactly noted for his discretion! Were his workers already making lewd remarks behind his back? He refilled his glass. There was only one answer. Miss O'Maxwell would have to go. No matter that his whole household would be thrown into utter chaos, he couldn't wouldn't tolerate such scandalous rumours!

He sat down in the chair and placed the decanter beside him. What had he done to deserve this? He was a God-fearing man, fair and straight in all his dealings; a benefactor to the community and the Church. Hadn't he paid for the huge, circular, stained-glass window above the altar of the Church of the Blessed Sacrament? Why was God punishing him like this? First Molly's death, then Ellen's behaviour, and the constant thorn in his side that was Elizabeth and her spineless husband - and now this! But, he reflected morosely, these afflictions had started long before Molly's death. He had no sons into whose hands he could safely pass the business he was now successfully building, and that had been a bitter pill to swallow. Elizabeth and Ernest would fritter away everything and Ellen . . . Oh, Ellen was like him, but she was only a child and if anything should happen to him... Why couldn't Ellen have been a boy? He refilled his glass again and sank deeper and deeper into self-pity as the evening wore on.

Margaret had tried to say her prayers, but her mind kept wandering and she lay awake, still seething with anger. Oh, Maura had done her work well. There was nothing else she could do now but leave. But what would happen to Ellen? She couldn't take her with her, she'd have no job and no home! She'd have to tell him herself, before Elizabeth heard.

She pounded and pumelled the pillow, wishing it were Maura's head. Then she sat up and hugged her knees. There must be another way around it. There had to be. She could have quite cheerfully strangled her aunt. Calm down, she told herself, this was getting her nowhere. She must think about it sensibly, logically. If she went she would have no job and no home and it would break Ellen's heart. If she stayed question. She wasn't having Madam Elizabeth calling her ... that was out of the a Jezebel or any other such name and she was certain that Elizabeth would have a large vocabulary of adjectives thatshe wouldn't hesitate to use. She covered her face with her hands and uttered a hasty prayer to Saint Jude, the patron Saint of Impossible Causes, for if ever there was one, she was faced with it now.

She lay down again and pulled the quilt up to her chin and stared at the ceiling. She'd get precious little sleep tonight. She turned her head, thinking she heard the door open. Then she sat up. Ellen? Ellen, is that you?' She pushed back the bed

clothes and reached for her dressing gown.

The child came in looking like a little ghost in her long, white nightgown and she could see she'd been crying. 'Oh, come here, you must be frozen! How long have you been standing out there on the landing?"

Ellen scrambled up on to the bed and cuddled into her, like a tiny nocturnal animal seeking warmth and comfort. 'I told Pa.'

'Oh, you didn't! Not everything Annie said?"

'I did. I don't want you to go away and I told him

that, too!"

'What did he say?' 'He told me to go to bed.'

"Oh, Ellen, I wish you hadn't told him. I was going to

tell him myself, tomorrow, after I'd been to see my aunt.'

'What do you want to see her for?' 'Because it was she who started these vicious lies.'

'Don't you hate her?' 'Yes!' Margaret replied with venom.

Ellen drew away and looked up at her. Then it will be all right.'

'What will?'

"When Pa finds out it was her.' 'But the damage has been done, Ellen. Things can't be

unsaid.'

Ellen's bottom lip began to tremble. 'Can't you still work here and sleep somewhere else? The nuns at the Convent take a few lady boarders, you could go there.'

Oh, only a child could have seen it so clearly, Margaret thought with astonishment. Why hadn't she thought of that solution?

Maybe you're right, Ellen! Perhaps I could stay until after supper and then come back early in the morning, and if I stayed at the Convent that would silence the wagging tongues.'

'So you won't be going away?' 'I don't know, it all depends on your Pa.'

Ellen struggled from her arms and prepared to jump from the bed. 'I'll go down and tell him now!'

Margaret caught hold of her. 'Oh, no you won't! I think you've said and heard enough for one night. Now off to bed and get some sleep and I mean straight to bed, your Pa won't be pleased to have another visit from you tonight.'

When the child had gone she sank back onto the pillows. She'd been in such a fury that she'd never thought of that simple solution. Oh, it was such a relief. But Maura wasn't going to get off, not by a long way!

Annie didn't turn up for work the following morning and so Margaret had all the chores to do herself. Mr Vannin seemed to be in a particularly bad mood and this she put down to Ellen's revelations, until she saw that the whisky decanter was half empty.

Because of all the extra work she was later leaving the house than she had oriNancylly intended. She caught the tram at the bottom of Stalmine Road. It was only two stops, but this morning she didn't have either the time or the inclination to walk.

She got off just after Walton Hospital and walked the few yards up Rice Lane to Lancaster Street. The cinereous skies and the gusting wind, that blew the dead, brown leaves in small eddies around her feet, suited her mood entirely. As she walked up the street she noticed curtains twitching and realized that somehow the news of her intended visit had gone before her. Probably via Emily and her mother. She smiled grimly. It was no use Maura pretending to be out. She still had her key. Margaret stood for a moment on the step that hadn't

seen donkey stone since the day she'd left, and looked up and down the street, deliberately. Then she opened her bag and drew out her key. That would give them all something to talk about. If they had imagined that she was going to stand on the step hammering vainly on the door, they were sadly mistaken. She opened the door quietly and stepped inside, wrinkling her nose at the familiar odours. She crept along the passage and opened the kitchen door.