A Mistletoe Kiss

Cover

Title

Copyright

Dedication

Also available by Katie Flynn

Acknowledgements

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

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Version 1.0

Epub ISBN 9781407070742

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Published by Arrow Books in 2010

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Copyright © Katie Flynn 2010

Katie Flynn has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

First published in Great Britain in 2010 by Arrow Books
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For Eileen and Jim Greenwood,
with many thanks; how nice to
do one's research over a delicious
meal at a canalside pub!

A Liverpool Lass
The Girl from Penny Lane
Liverpool Taffy
The Mersey Girls
Strawberry Fields
Rainbow's End
Rose of Tralee
No Silver Spoon
Polly's Angel
The Girl from Seaforth Sands
The Liverpool Rose
Poor Little Rich Girl
The Bad Penny
Down Daisy Street
A Kiss and a Promise
Two Penn'orth of Sky
A Long and Lonely Road
The Cuckoo Child
Darkest Before Dawn
Orphans of the Storm
Little Girl Lost
Beyond the Blue Hills
Forgotten Dreams
Sunshine and Shadows
Such Sweet Sorrow
A Mother's Hope
In Time for Christmas
Heading Home

First and foremost, my sincere thanks go to Jim and Eileen Greenwood, who put in a great deal of time and thought into my various problems whilst I was writing this book. Without their help I should still be tearing my hair out over the layout of the Everton Library (as it was when I knew it) and the finer points of narrow boats on the Birmingham to London run. Despite their endeavours, however, I may have made mistakes and if I have done so, the mistakes are mine; the details I got right are thanks to Eileen and Jim. Thank you both so much!

I should also like to thank the late Eily Gayford, who wrote
The Amateur Boatwomen
, and Margaret Cornish, who wrote
Troubled Waters
, marvellous books in the Working Waterways series, and essential reading for anyone interested in the role canals played during WWII. And the staff of the Ellesmere Boat Museum were, as always, both knowledgeable and helpful.

Hetty Gilbert wandered slowly along St Domingo Road, trying to look completely casual, completely indifferent, but when she reached the library she could not help turning towards it and staring at the imposing doors with their big glass panels with the gold writing upon them. She had looked at these doors often; enviously for the most part. She had seen men and women going in and coming out, positively laden with books, and she had thought, rebelliously, that it was extremely unfair. Why should adults be able to borrow books, when they had no real need of them, whereas she herself, who
needed
to read …

But if her teacher's words were correct then the librarian had no right to turn her out, which was what had happened on the only two previous occasions she had braved the big glass doors and slid inside. Then, she had stared with awe at the shelves and their burden of what must be many thousands of wonderful books, but had barely taken half a dozen steps towards the nearest display when a voice had sounded far too close to her ear, and a hand had descended on to her shoulder. ‘Out!' the voice had announced, and she was
given a painful shove in the direction of the exit. ‘This is no place for children!'

‘Oh, but I were only looking …' Hetty had begun.

However, the owner of the voice – the shover in fact – had taken no notice, merely repeating the word ‘Out!' as Hetty had been propelled through the glass doors and on to the pavement.

Now, Hetty walked past the library, then turned casually and retraced her steps. Today, she reminded herself, today would be different, thanks to her teacher. Miss Marks took her class, and had decided to give them as a holiday task an essay written on the subject of ‘Children in Foreign Lands'. Upon her announcing this, however, a number of blank faces had been turned towards the teacher, who had said impatiently: ‘Whatever is the matter, children? Surely you know that there are French children, Dutch children, Indian, African … good gracious, I'm giving you just about the widest choice of subject …'

‘But Miss,' Hetty had said plaintively. ‘We don't know nothin' about kids in – in other lands. Oh, I know Millie's Chinese and there are black kids an' all, but …'

Miss Marks was a large woman, whose short dark hair, round pink cheeks and black, snapping eyes always reminded Hetty of a Dutch doll she had once seen in Bunney's window. At her pupil's words, however, she had gone red and screwed up her mouth into a tight little bunch, answering scornfully: ‘Have you never heard of books, you foolish child?' She had seized a copy of
Treasure Island
, which had been lying
on her desk, and had waved it so vigorously under Hetty's nose that Hetty had jumped back, blinking. ‘As for Millie and young Bert, they've neither of them got nearer to China nor Africa than I have myself. It's books you come to school to study, and it is to books you should turn for information.'

‘But my – my aunt doesn't have any books, and school will be closed for the summer when we're doing our holiday task,' Hetty had pointed out. ‘And when I join my grandma and grandpa on the canal there's even less chance of finding a book, particularly one about foreign kids. There's no room on a barge for anything but …'

Miss Marks had given an impatient sigh and raised her eyes to heaven, or rather to the ceiling of the classroom. Hetty, who rather liked the teacher, had had to hide a smile because the older woman looked so very odd. ‘Hester Gilbert, I used to think you had
some
intelligence, but it seems I was mistaken,' Miss Marks had said, infusing her voice with disbelief. ‘Have you never heard of libraries? I suppose you'll tell me you've never visited one, and thought the term applied to purveyors of pork chops or – or smart shoes! Really, child, your ignorance horrifies me. Is there anyone else in the class who believes that libraries sell pork chops?'

There had been a sycophantic snigger from the pupils sitting in the front row of desks, but Hetty had decided it was time to cast her own eyes ceilingwards. ‘Of course I know about libraries, Miss,' she had said quickly, before anyone else could put in their two
penn'orth. ‘There's a big one on St Domingo Road. But I'm not allowed in there; the librarian told me so.'

‘Then the librarian was not speaking the truth,' Miss Marks had said in a slightly milder tone. ‘Children are certainly allowed to visit the library, and to become members if they so wish. So if you want to borrow books, you'd best tell the librarian that you need them for your schoolwork, and I'm sure she'll see reason.

‘But what if she don't, Miss?' Lucy Arnold, who shared a desk with Hetty, had said boldly. Lucy was tall for her age and pretty, and always smiled sweetly at Miss Marks, whilst digging Hetty in the ribs as soon as the teacher's attention moved to someone at the back of the room. ‘What if she just tells us to gerrout, which is what she said to Hetty an' meself when we tried to go in one day.'

Miss Marks had seemed to swell with indignation and Hetty had thought, gleefully, what if she bursts? Only she's not a bad old stick …

Her thoughts had been interrupted by the ringing of the school bell and Miss Marks had promptly begun marshalling her class into line and herding them out through the door in the direction of the cloakrooms. As she turned to leave them, however, she answered Lucy's question. ‘If the librarian tries to say you can't enter the library, then recommend her to explain to me why my pupils can't be trusted amongst books. But I think you'll find she's not unreasonable.'