A Glimpse at Happiness (40 page)

Read A Glimpse at Happiness Online

Authors: Jean Fullerton

Tags: #Romance, #Historical, #Fiction

BOOK: A Glimpse at Happiness
4.24Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
 
Although the new police force, with its headquarters in Scotland Yard, was concerned with more than just theft from the docks, the tradition of telling them absolutely nothing was deep-rooted in people’s minds. But Patrick knew it couldn’t continue and was now prepared to defy the custom.
 
The constable stopped scratching the quill across the open book and looked up.
 
‘We haven’t had any women brought in yet,’ he informed Patrick from beneath his fair moustache.
 
‘Women?’
 
The constable gave Patrick a pitiable look. ‘You’re looking for your old lady and I’m telling you there’s none in the cells.’ He waved the pen towards the front door. ‘Come back later, when the pubs are chucking out.’ He went back to his task.
 
‘I’ve come to speak to Superintendent Jackson,’ Patrick said in a firm voice.
 
The officer looked up and raised his eyebrows. ‘What about?’
 
‘Is he here?’ persisted Patrick, in as calm a voice as he could manage. ‘It’s important that I see him.’
 
Important wasn’t the word; vital was. He hadn’t heard from Ma all week and was beginning to doubt if she was actually going to take the bait until late this afternoon when she’d sent word that the cargo would be ready tomorrow. This left him precious little time, but if he tried to stall Ma, she would smell a rat and his swim in the Thames would surely follow.
 
Chewing his lips, the constable behind the desk regarded Patrick thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Superintendent Jackson isn’t on duty until tomorrow morning.’
 
This was a fine fecking kettle of fish. Patrick mentally ran through his options.
 
It was common knowledge that Ma had a couple of rotten peelers in her pocket but Patrick couldn’t be sure who they might be. The constable keeping the front door could be honest, but equally it could be that if Patrick told him about Ma’s shipment he would send word straight to her.
 
He studied the constable, still scratching his quill across the open ledger. No, he couldn’t chance it. This venture was risky enough without telling any one else, even a decent looking station officer.
 
‘I’ll come back at eight tomorrow then,’ Patrick said as he headed to the door. The officer shrugged and returned to his paperwork.
 
Patrick slipped back around the corner of the station and bit the pad of his thumb while he tried to get things straight in his mind.
 
By eight o’clock, Ma’s stash would already be aboard the
Mermaid
and her contact would be waiting for him below the horse ferry jetty just past Westminster. He had to get to the superintendent before he set off, to allow him time to apprehend the shipment. There was nothing for it - he would have to go home, return at dawn, and pray that the commanding officer of H-division arrived early.
 
Furious and frustrated but with no other course of action open to him, Patrick flipped his collar up around his ears again.
 
St Dunstan’s church sounded out eleven o’clock in the distance. The back gate opened and the night patrol marched out with the sergeant in charge of the watch at their head. Patrick remained in the shadows as their boots crunched over the cobbles and then the lamp light illuminated the man at the head of the column. He almost laughed out loud and could have wept with relief. Plant!
 
Patrick waited while the column of men disappeared. Plant would march his constables to their beats and then start his own supervisory patrol. Following the rhythmic stamp of their feet Patrick set his cap down over his face and emerged from the shadows.
 
Chapter Twenty-Four
 
Ellen rested her hands on Robert’s shoulder as his hand encircled her waist. With a light step she jumped down from the dog cart and stood in the gravel drive in front of the hotel. She drew in a deep breath, noting that the temperature had already dropped.
 
They had hired a local trap and spent a lovely day in the hills, walking and drinking in the spectacular scenery of Great Cumbrea Island. Mrs MacKay, the hotelier’s wife, had packed them a hearty lunch which they’d eaten at one of the island’s high spots, where they enjoyed the fine late summer day.
 
‘Ready for tea, Mrs Munroe?’ he asked and offered his arm as the groom led the pony back to the stable.
 
Ellen smiled up to his much loved face. ‘I certainly am,’ she replied. ‘All that walking has given me an appetite.’
 
A crease furrowed his brow. ‘It wasn’t too much for you?’ he asked, his experienced eyes looking over her face for any signs of fever.
 
‘Not at all.’ She squeezed his arm as they started towards the front door. ‘It’s been a beautiful day - one of the last I’m sure, as I feel autumn in the breeze.’
 
‘You like Scotland then?’ he asked, as they went up the steps together.
 
‘I don’t
like
Scotland, I love it. Next year we shall bring all the family with us,’ Ellen replied with a twinkle in her eye. ‘Just as the Queen and Prince Albert do.’
 
Mr MacKay, the hotel manager appeared. ‘Good afternoon to you, Dr Munroe, Mrs Munroe. Would you like tea in the sitting room?’
 
Robert looked at her.
 
‘May we have it in the conservatory so we can watch the fishing boats return to Largs?’ she replied, taking off her hat and gloves.
 
Mr MacKay hurried towards the kitchen.
 
Ellen and Robert sat beside the large windows looking out over the bay to where the small fleet of fishermen sailed in on the evening tide after a day of dragging their nets in the Firth of Clyde.
 
Ellen settled back to enjoy the view until the tea arrived. Robert picked up yesterday’s copy of the
Scotsman
, which had arrived that morning on the early ferry, and pulled his glasses out of his top pocket. She felt her eyelids start to droop but it was from the healthy tiredness of fresh air and exercise, not the bone-weariness of illness she’d suffered when they’d first arrived at Robert’s sister’s in Sterling.
 
After the dreamlike childbed delirium that had engulfed her, it had taken her weeks of rest before she’d begun to feel like her old self again. But thanks to Robert’s constant love and attention she had returned to full health.
 
‘You would think, with the House in recess, that the two sides would stop calling each other names over the Factory Act debacle,’ Robert said, shaking out the paper. ‘Don’t they realise that children are dying while they act like overgrown school boys?’
 
‘You’ll be back soon to put them straight,’ Ellen replied.
 
At the end of the week they planned to continue their tour of the Western Isles, across to Arran and Bute for a month before travelling back to Edinburgh and taking the steamer home to London.
 
Robert looked over his half-rimmed glasses at her. ‘Only if you are well, my love.’
 
Mrs Mackay arrived with the tea tray ‘There’s some of my own plum jam you’re so fond of, Mrs Munroe, to go with the scones,’ she said, in her soft lilting voice as she set the over-laden tray beside Ellen. ‘And today’s post. It arrived after you’d left this morning.’
 
Ellen thanked her and handed the two letters to Robert to open while she poured the tea.
 
A twinge of disappointment tugged at her. She had hoped to hear from Josie a week ago but there was still nothing. Since they’d left London, the children’s letters had arrived regularly each week. The younger children wrote of what they had been doing and how much they enjoyed being with dear Grandmama, but Lottie’s and Bobby’s had phrases like, ‘we are following your progress on a map and see that you will be back with us in eight weeks’ and ‘Grandmama was pleased that, because of the rain, we were able to spend an extra hour at our prayer today’, which frankly unsettled Ellen. She had seen the disquiet in Robert’s eyes, too, but he hadn’t commented.
 
The one consolation Ellen had was knowing that Josie was with the children. However, whereas the children’s letters were usually full of what Josie said and did with them, the batch that arrived last week hadn’t mentioned their older sister at all, which is why Ellen was even more concerned. She hadn’t had a letter from Josie for almost three weeks.
 
‘Hermione sends her love and says she hopes we enjoy the rest of our holiday and looks forward to visiting us in London in the Spring,’ Robert said, refolding his sister’s letter and picking up the next one. ‘Hello,’ he said slipping his finger under the seal. ‘This looks like Bobby’s handwriting. I wonder why she didn’t send it with the rest.’
 
Robert scanned the page and his mouth dropped open. ‘I cannot believe what I am reading!’ He handed her the letter.
 
The words seemed to rush at her from the page and dance in front of her eyes. ‘Robert!’ she said, as the paper fluttered to her lap.
 
He jumped to his feet and pulled on the rope by the fireplace. He snatched his glasses from his nose and clasped his hands behind his back. With his mouth pulled into a tight line he stared out of the window. Although he stood stock still with his broad shoulders pulled back and an impassive expression on his face, Robert’s knuckles showed white.
 
Ellen read Bobby’s letter again and tears sprang into her eyes as fury swept over her. ‘How could she? After all—’
 
Mr MacKay stepped into the conservatory and Robert turned. ‘Mr MacKay, I am afraid that we are required at home immediately. My wife and I will be leaving tomorrow. I would be grateful if you would make arrangements for our luggage to be collected for the morning ferry. Please convey our regrets to you wife for us having to leave your establishment so abruptly.’
 
The hotelier bowed and left the room. Robert glanced down at his mangled spectacles then threw them in the fire grate. ‘I don’t know why she did this, Ellen, but I’m going to damn well find out.’
 
 
Annie held tight onto her brother’s hand as they made their way along The Highway to their school. She smiled when she felt her long plaits bounce against her back, knowing that each one was tied with a bright blue ribbon that Miss Josie had said suited her dark hair perfectly. Annie had always been conscious that she was darker than most of the other children in the Highway School but Miss Josie, when she was combing out her tangles after their bath, pointed out that freckled faces and fair hair were two a penny in the playground, whereas Annie’s raven hair and creamy skin was distinctive.
 
Since Miss Josie had come to live with them, everything in Annie’s life had changed for the better. She had two new dresses and Mickey had two new shirts and a pair of trousers; they both had new boots, and a new coat each for the winter. They were much too big for them but, as Miss Josie said, they would have to last a few years before they could be replaced.
 
Pa wanted her and Mickey to call Miss Josie Mam, but Annie couldn’t quite manage it yet. And it wasn’t that she didn’t want to or had some loyalty to the mother she couldn’t remember, it was just that, even dressed in the same poor clothes as all the other women, Miss Josie was still different.
 
And she wasn’t the only one to think so. When the news got around that Miss Josie had come to live with them it was on everyone’s lips. Whenever she went into the corner shop or passed a group of women they had nudged each other. She even heard a couple of the younger women call Miss Josie dirty names, but when she asked Gran about it she’d told them they were just jealous because Patrick loved Miss Josie and not them. And Annie knew it was the truth of the matter because Pa did love Miss Josie and Miss Josie loved him.
 
They laughed for no reason in that special way that Aunt Mattie and poor Uncle Brian used to do. Pa was always hugging Miss Josie and, although she pushed him away and told him to stop, Annie could see she didn’t really mean it.
 
But Miss Josie had been quiet this morning when she filled their new satchels and waved them off. She looked tired too, with dark rings under her eyes and hugged them for a long time before she’d let them go.
 
Annie thought it was because Miss Josie’s tummy had been upset for the past few weeks. She was worried at first to think that she might have to go home, but when she told Gran and Aunt Mattie about it they gave each other one of those looks that told Annie it was the sort of thing women knew about but didn’t mention out loud, so she was reassured.
 
As they reached The Highway, Annie took hold of Mickey’s hand more firmly. With the wagons rolling by in both directions they had to keep their eyes peeled so they didn’t end up under the hooves of the huge horses that pulled them.

Other books

Hot Finish by Erin McCarthy
Come Home Soon by Emily Sharratt
Celebrant by Cisco, Michael
Bad Press by Maureen Carter
REAPER'S KISS by Jaxson Kidman
The Portable Nietzsche by Friedrich Nietzsche
I Thee Wed by Celeste Bradley