A Kiss and a Promise (48 page)

Michael was so appalled that he released the child’s arms and, quick as a flash, she snatched up her bag of pegs and began to pelt down the lane. He ran after her and would have caught her up had he not heard a sound from behind him and, turning his head, seen Mabel, running in his wake, go flying over a loose stone. He turned back at once, though Mabel shouted to him not to do so. She began to scramble to her feet, assuring him that she would be fine, that he must leave her and catch up with the child, but Michael put his arm round her and supported her for she was much shaken by the violence of her fall. Blood was pouring from the palms of both hands; she had grazed her chin and her knees looked to be in a shocking state. ‘The tinker brat doesn’t matter; she’s told us all she knows,’ he said brusquely, ‘and besides, you know what tinkers are. She might have been lying just to put us off the scent. But right now it’s you that matters.’ Michael swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to concentrate on Mabel’s various hurts. ‘Me poor darlin’, what a horrible thing to happen. I hope to God you’ve not broken anything.’

First he must make sure that Mabel had, indeed, not broken any bones, and do his best to patch her up so that they might return to the village where, if necessary, he could take her to see a doctor before continuing their search. After all, if Ginny had indeed fallen into the flooded river, she might well have been carried a considerable way before managing to scramble out. That she might have been drowned was something he refused to consider. Besides, she had had a companion: the boy, Conan, who would have managed to get them both ashore somehow, he told himself firmly. He could not bear to think that his little girl had set out to cross Ireland and find her daddy, and had found only her death. No, no, she would be alive and keeping well away from the tinkers, he was sure of it.

Tenderly, Michael picked Mabel up, despite her protests, and carried her to the nearest bank where he set her down and carefully folded back her dark blue cotton skirt. He got out his handkerchief – it was clean, fortunately – and began to mop at her knees. He was remarking, as cheerfully as he could, that though she had taken a nasty tumble he did not think that her hurts would need more than cleaning up, when he glanced up at her face and saw that she was crying. Immediately, he jumped to his feet and sat down beside her, putting an arm about her shoulders and giving her a comforting squeeze. ‘Don’t cry, alanna, don’t cry,’ he crooned. ‘Sure an’ ‘tis a terrible t’ing when a child falls into the river but I’m sure she was out again in no time and hiding somewhere from the tinkers. The boy, too, probably. Tinkers are afeared of water, they say, so I doubt they’d waste time combing the river bank for a child that was not their own.’

Mabel rubbed her eyes and said, shakily: ‘I’m sure you’re right and we mustn’t give up hope. If only we knew where she’d fallen in, we could follow the river ourselves.’

‘We’ll make our way back into the village and mebbe find the tinker girl,’ Michael said determinedly. ‘And this time she won’t get away until she’s told us all we want to know. Can you walk, alanna?’

Mabel sniffed, then fished a handkerchief out of her sleeve and blew her nose resoundingly. ‘I can walk all right,’ she said stoutly. ‘Oh, Michael, we ought to kneel down right now and say a prayer and ask God to look after her, wherever she is.’

This, however, seemed pretty impractical to Michael. ‘We’ll pray as we go along,’ he said briskly, helping her to her feet, though keeping a supporting arm about her. ‘I want to get into the village as soon as possible and find that kid. I want to ask her … well, about what we’ve just been discussing. Are you sure you’re fit to walk all the way, though?’ His arm tightened about her for a moment and he touched her cheek gently with his free hand. ‘Poor little Mabs. Shall I carry you?’

‘No indeed,’ Mabel said. ‘My knees are a bit stiff and my hands sting like billyo, but I’ll be right as rain by the time we’ve gone a few yards. Oh, Michael, I do so hope you’re right and Ginny was just carried along with the river and managed to scramble out somewhere. After all, the last thing she would do would be to return to the Kavanaghs to tell them she was still alive. I’m sure you’re right and she’d be more inclined to hide from them.’

Michael agreed, and presently they entered Toomyvara and headed towards a general shop. Michael was just saying that it seemed likely to him that the tinker child would have made first for the houses, hoping to sell her pegs and thus have money for shopping, when Mabel clutched his arm. ‘Look! Isn’t that her, coming out of the shop with something in her arms?’ They both started forward, but within a few yards of the girl Mabel pulled him back. ‘Oh, no. I’m so sorry, Michael, that’s quite a different girl. I don’t think she comes from the Kavanagh camp, either; I’ve never seen her before, I’m sure.’ She began to say something else, then realised that Michael was staring at the young girl as though he could not believe his eyes. Mabel stared in her turn. She was a pretty little thing, of probably ten or eleven, with a pointed, elfin face, large blue eyes, and a tumble of rich, coal-black hair, curling down almost to her waist. Mabel smiled tentatively at her, but Michael still stood where he was, as though turned to stone.

As Michael’s eyes rested on the child’s face he felt the years roll back and he was standing once more on the quayside in Liverpool, facing a beautiful girl who held a white kitten between her hands.

‘If it isn’t me darlin’ Stella,’ he breathed. ‘Oh, Stella, Stella!’ And then he covered the space between them in a couple of strides, and took the child’s hands in both of his, for all in a moment he knew her for who she really was – the little daughter he had last seen when she was only a few weeks old. ‘Ginny?’ he said wonderingly. ‘It
is
Ginny, isn’t it? I don’t know what’s happened to your lovely red hair, but, oh, Ginny, you’re so like your mammy! I couldn’t be mistaken, I’d know you anywhere!’

Ginny gave a strangled yelp and flung her arms round her father, hugging him with all her strength and half sobbing as she did so. Michael had thought she might be shy with him, might need, so to speak, an introduction, but she seemed to accept him immediately, looking up at him with frank and loving eyes.

‘Oh, Daddy, Daddy! You’re just like I thought you’d be … and we was headin’ for Kerry and your farm just as fast as we could, only so many things have happened … were you huntin’ for me? Oh, I can’t believe it’s you at last – I’m so happy!’

‘Me little girl, me little Ginny … and ain’t you the image of your mammy?’ Michael crooned, returning her hug and feeling the tears standing in his own eyes, beginning to trickle down his cheeks. ‘Oh, we’ve found you at last and you’re safe and sound, t’anks be to God.’

Ginny sniffed and wiped away her own tears, then turned astonished eyes on his companion. ‘Miss Derbyshire!’ she said. ‘It’s grand to see you so it is, but what the devil are you doin’ here?’

Mabel smiled lovingly down at her erstwhile pupil. ‘Your daddy thought he might not recognise you so I came along just in case, but it was me who didn’t know you,’ she said. ‘It’s the hair – you look so different, I’d have walked straight past you if Michael here hadn’t spotted you. And you’ve a friend with you as well … are you going to introduce us?’

She indicated the small boy standing awkwardly nearby and Ginny clapped a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, Conan, I am sorry! This is Miss Derbyshire, who used to be me teacher back in Liverpool, and – and this is me daddy! Conan is Conan O’Dowd, and he’s been a real good pal to me. He – he was bringin’ me to Kerry … the tinkers were after us, though … oh, can we go somewhere quiet? We know the Kavanaghs are somewhere near because we walked slap-bang into Nan earlier, only she didn’t recognise us, thanks be to the Holy Mother.’

‘We’ll go to our lodgings,’ Michael said, taking his daughter’s hand and indicating to Conan that he should follow them. ‘And then you can tell us everything, because we heard a story just now … but all’s well that ends well, you’re alive, and very soon we’ll be on our way!’

‘It’s an awful long story though, Daddy, an’ I’m not quite sure where to begin.’

Ginny and Conan sat side by side on Michael’s bed and the two adults sat opposite them, on the small upholstered chairs provided by the landlady. Now Michael smiled encouragingly at his daughter, then reached out and took Mabel’s hand. ‘Perhaps it would be best if Miss Derbyshire and meself told you what we’ve learned,’ he said. ‘Then you can correct us if we go wrong and explain what really happened. Does that sound all right, alanna?’

‘It sounds grand,’ Ginny said contentedly. Miss Derbyshire and her daddy were both beaming at her as though she were the crock of gold at the end of the rainbow. ‘Go on, then. Start at the very beginning, when you got to Seaforth and found I weren’t there. I’m dyin’ to know what they telled you, because they were pretty mad wi’ me when I lit out.’

Michael grinned. ‘Oh, all that was behind them by the time I arrived an’ they were mortal worried about you,’ he said. ‘But they thought you might have gone back to Victoria Court and be hidin’ wi’ one of your old pals, so …’

He outlined the story of his own search, his finding of Mabel, and her decision to accompany him to Ireland.

‘Because you see, dear, your daddy hadn’t set eyes on you since you were a tiny baby and it would have been difficult, finding you by himself,’ Mabel explained, looking rather self-conscious, Ginny thought. ‘I knew I’d know you amongst a hundred others … or thought I would! But the hair colour foxed me completely. And it was your likeness to your mother which gave you away, in the end.’

‘I didn’t know I
was
like me mammy,’ Ginny said, knowing she must look as amazed as she felt. ‘Granny Bennett was always on about how beautiful Stella was, and how I weren’t in the least like her, and no one else ever said anything different, so I thought … besides, I
know
I’m not beautiful!’

‘Well, you are then,’ Michael said firmly. ‘Anyway, to cut a long story short …’

He told the tale of their search well and quickly, but when he got to Nan’s part in it his voice trembled and he made a mute sign to Mabel, who took over. ‘Nan said she’d followed the pair of you to the river and seen you swept away,’ Mabel said. ‘We – we were horrified, but even then your daddy didn’t believe you were dead. We were coming into the town to find Nan … is she the plump little girl with long, light brown hair? … yes, we thought that was who you meant. Well, we were going to ask her where you’d fallen in the river when we walked into you coming out of that shop, cuddling that loaf as though it were a baby,’ she ended, with a laugh.

‘Cripes!’ Ginny said inelegantly. ‘Well, now for our story! We joined the tinkers ’cos Conan’s daddy is a tinker and ’cos they were headin’ for Kerry and said it would be awright for us to go along with ’em. We didn’t have money for buses or trains, but the tinkers work on the land as they go and we thought we could do the same. Only it didn’t work out, and when we realised the Kavanaghs were liars and cheats we decided to escape if we could. We got away from ’em on the journey over the mountains, because the cloud came down and the rain pelted and they couldn’t see us when we nipped off. Then we tried to cross the river and I slipped and Conan came after me and managed to pull me out, somehow or other. He squeezed the water out of me and we found a barn and hid in the hay until morning. Then we realised that the tinkers and ourselves would all be heading for Kerry and Conan said we’d best be disguised. I – I’m afraid we nicked a dark skirt and blouse for me, off a washing line, and some navy kecks and a tattered blue shirt for Conan, only – only me ginger hair’s a dead giveaway, wouldn’t you say? I mean, Conan said I’d stand out like a lump of coal in a snowfield, and that gave me an idea. Whilst I were with the tinkers, I saw them usin’ the dye often and often, on the ponies they stole, so I nicked some of it ’cos it were evidence that they were a real bad lot and not honest horse dealers, like they kept sayin’. I meant to show it to the scuffers if the Kavanaghs tried to say I were with ’em of me own accord, but it never come to that, ’cos Conan an’ me got away. Only when Conan said that about me hair, I thought o’ the dye, an’ – well, we used it. See?’

‘I wonder why the tinkers were so keen to hold on to you?’ Michael said slowly. ‘I mean, you’re only a couple o’ kids and they’ve got kids of their own in plenty. It doesn’t seem to make sense.’

‘It does when you know what we know,’ Conan said gruffly, speaking for the first time. ‘The Kavanaghs got the idea that the Gallaghers farmed in a big way and were rich. They meant to ask a hundred pounds and a good deal of stock for the return of your daughter. So you see, Ginny were valuable to them. I expect they’re mad as fire that we’ve got away,’ he added, with satisfaction.

‘Right, I’ve got the picture now,’ Michael said. ‘You’re safe enough now though, because Nan said they believe you were drownded, and anyway you’ve found us. So now the four of us will get ourselves to Headland Farm just as soon as we can.’

‘The three of you,’ amended Conan. He was very flushed but spoke up nevertheless. ‘I’m still searchin’ for me own daddy, remember.’

‘The two of you,’ Mabel said quietly. ‘I really do have to get back to England, Michael. My parents will be expecting me any day now, and – and …’

‘Ah, but surely the pair of you can spare us a few days?’ Michael said coaxingly. ‘After all our wanderings, you’ll be wantin’ to see the home where Ginny will be stayin’ for a good part of her life – if she wants to, that is. You can’t let me down now, Mabel! Say you’ll come back wit’ us, if only for a few days, and then I promise you I’ll take you back to Dublin and put you on the ferry meself, if that’s what you want.’

Despite their protestations, Mabel and Conan accompanied Michael and Ginny when they walked up the path to Headland Farm next day. Mabel had agreed that it would be a sad shame to miss meeting Mr and Mrs Gallagher and admitted, with a faint flush, to curiosity over the Gallagher farmhouse. What was more, journeying back alone across Ireland did not appeal to her at all; it would be far better to have Michael’s company as far as the ferry, she told him.