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  Kate hannigan

  by

  catherine cookson

  CATHERINE COOK SON?

  LLING AUTHOR

  OF

  THE

  MALL EN AND MANY OTHER COMPELLING IS.

  MORE THAN 17,000,000 COPIES F

  HER BOOKS SOLD IN CORGI.

  UK.

  1. Australia. *$3. 79 New Zealand. $3. 90 Everybody knew Kate Hannigan in the fifteen streets. She stood out from the people and the slums around her . quiet. aloof . different. They had watched her grow up--and had wondered how Tim Hannigan, vicious and uncouth, had managed to father such a child.

  Everybody knew Kate Hannigan. She was too beautiful to miss.

  But the first time Rodney Prince saw her, she was lying inert on a dingy bed in an even dingier upstairs room. And he didn't have time to notice how beautiful she was. He was too busy working to try to save her life . Also by catherine cook son

  KATIE MULHOLLAND

  THE ROUND TOWER

  FEN WICK HOUSES

  THE FIFTEEN STREETS

  MAGGIE ROWAN

  THE LONG CORRIDOR

  THE UNBAITED TRAP

  COLOUR BLIND

  THE MENAGERIE

  THE BLIND MILLER

  FANNY MCBRIDE

  THE GLASS VIRGIN

  ROONEY

  THE NICE BLOKE

  THE INVITATION

  THE DWELLING PLACE

  OUR KATE

  THE INVISIBLE CORD

  THE GAMBLING MAN

  THE SLOW AWAKENING

  THE TIDE OF LIFE

  THE GIRL

  THB CINDER PATH

  The "Mary Ann' series

  A GRAND MAN

  THE DEVIL AND MARY ANN THE LORD AND MARY ANN LIFE AND MARY ANN LOVE

  AND MARY ANN MARRIAGE AND MARY ANN MARY ANN'S ANGELS MARY ANN AND

  BILL

  The "Mallen' Trilogy

  THE MALL EN STREAK THE MALL EN GIRL THE MALL EN LITTER

  By Catherine Cookson as Catherine Marchant

  HOUSE OF MEN

  THE FEN TIGER

  HERITAGE OF FOLLY

  MISS MARY MARTHA CRAWTORD

  IRON FACADE

  and published by corgi books Catherine Cookson

  Kate Hannisan

  CORGI BOOKS

  A DIVISION OF TRANSWORID PUBLISHERS LTD

  A CORGI BOOK o 552'll370 o

  Originally published in Great Britain by Macdonald & Co. (Publishers), Ltd.

  printing history Macdonald edition published 1950 Corgi edition published 1969 Corgi edition reprinted 1970 Corgi edition reprinted 1970 Corgi edition reprinted 1972 Corgi edition reprinted 1972 Corgi edition reprinted 1973 Corgi edition reprinted 1974 Corgi edition reprinted 1975 Corgi edition reprinted 1976 Corgi edition reprinted 1977 Corgi edition reprinted 1978 (twice) Corgi edition reissued 1980

  "Copyright Catherine Cookson 1950

  This book is copyright. No portions of it my be reproduced by any process without written permission. All inquiries should be addressed, to the publishers.

  Conditions of sale i: This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, 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.

  2: This book is sold subject to the Standard Conditions of Sale of Net Books and may not be re-sold in the U.

  K.

  below the net price fixed by the publishers for the book.

  This book is set in Baskerville 10 pt.

  Corgi Books are published by TranswoHd Publisher! " Ltd." Century House, 61-63 Uxbridge Road, Ealing, London W5 5SA Made and printed in Great Britain by Richard Clay (The Chaucer Press), Ltd. " Bungay, Suffolk.

  To M7 MOTHER who has found her expression through me AUTHOR'S NOTE

  The characters in this book are entirely fictitious and have no relation to any living person.

  Although the setting is Tyneside and several actual place names have been used, 'the fifteen streets' are entirely imaginary.

  Owing to difficulty in comprehension by the uninitiated, the Tyneside dialect has not been adhered to.

  CONTENTS

  PAGE the birth . 'll the kitchen . the drawing-room . the ride .

  annie . 86 the path is mapped out . 'll1 the belt . france . the FlELDCARD . always flight . waiting . aog the return .

  THE BIRTH

  T shall want more hot water, and those towels there will not be enough.

  "

  "Glory to God, doctor, you have every towel there is in the house!"

  "Then bring sheets, old ones, and we can tear them."

  "Old ones, and we can tear them," mimicked Dorrie Clarke to herself.

  "New brooms sweep clean. By God, if they don't! Old Kelly would have more sense, drunk as he might have been. The way this one's going on you would think sovereigns were as thick as fleas and there was a father downstairs to welcome the brat."

  "There's no more sheets, doctor," she said, rolling her already tightly rolled sleeves further up her fat arms. Speak to her like that, would he! She'd been bringing hairns into the world when his arse was still being washed! For two hours now he had said: "Do this, do that," as if Kate Hannigan on the bed there was the Duchess of Connaught, instead of a trollop going to bring a bastard into the world; when it made up its mind to come, which wouldn't be for another couple of hours. And here shed been hanging around since tea-time;

  and it was Christmas Eve and all, and not a drop past her lips; an'

  couldn't get away for this young swine saying:

  "Lend me a hand here, Mrs. Clarke,"

  "Let her pull on you, Mrs.

  Clarke,"

  "Get that damn fire to burn, Mrs. Clarke 1' ... Yes, he even damned her. Now Doctor Kelly, rest his soul, could be as drunk as hell, but he'd never swear at you; more likely to say, " Have a drop, Mrs.

  Clarke; you need it. " There was a gentleman for you. This one wouldn't reign long; but he was reigning tonight, blast him! and get out for a wet she must, or die. 'll Into Dorrie Clarke's agile brain flashed an idea; shed trade Sarah Hannigan a pair of sheets for the chiffonier downstairs; shed always had her eyes on that. Begodt shed get the best of this bargain, and get out of this young upstart's sight for five minutes.

  Her fat, well-red face rolled itself into a stiff, oily smile.

  "There's not a rag in this house but what's in the pawn, doctor; but I've a pair of sheets of me own that I'll gladly go and get this minute, for I couldn't see this poor thing want." She nodded pathetically down at the humped figure on the bed.

  The doctor didn't raise himself from his stooping posture over the bed, he didn't even raise his head, but he raised his eyes, and his eyebrows shot into the tumbled, thick black hair on his forehead. And his black eyes stared at Mrs. Clarke for a second in such a way that she thought: "Begod 1 he looks like the divil himself. And he might be that, with his black eyes in that long face and that pointed beard; and him so young and handsome. Holy Mother of God, I must have a drink

  I'

  Whether it was she slipped, or it was the doctor's remark that momentarily unbalanced her she couldn't afterwards decide; for she was stamping down the narrow dark stairs, in a rage, when her feet. just left her, as she put it, and she found herself in a heap in the Hannigans' kitchen, with Tim Hannigan sitting in his chair by the fireside, wearing his look of sullen anger, only more so, and not moving to give a body a hand up, and Sarah Hannigan, with her weary face bending above her, saying: "Oh, are you hurt, Dorrie?" She picked herself up, grabbed her coat off the back of the kitchen door, pulled a shawl t
ightly around her head, and, with figure bent, passed out through the door Sarah Hannigan held ajar for her and into the driving snow, without uttering a word. She was too angry even to take much notice of the pain in her knee.

  She'd get even with the young sod. Begod t if it took her a lifetime shed get even with him.

  "Mrs. Clarke," he had said, "I don't allow intoxicated women to assist at births. And, if you bring the sheets, we won't tear them. They will only be a loan, Mrs. Clarke."

  Dorrie Clarke suddenly shivered violently. And it wasn't a shiver caused by the snow as it danced and swirled about her; it wasn't a cold shiver at all.

  "Jesus, Mary and TosephI How did he know? He could have heard I take a drop, but he couldn't have known about the sheets.

  My God! it's what Father O'Malley said. The divil walks the earth, he has many guises. He's the divil 1 Ah! but as Father O'Malley would say, he's got to be fought, and, begodi I'll fight him! "

  Back in the bedroom of 16 Whitley Street Doctor Rodney Prince stood with his elbows on the mantelpiece. He had to bend down a considerable way to do this as it was only four feet high and merely a narrow ledge above the bedroom fireplace. He kept pushing his hands through his hair with a rhythmic movement. God! but he was tired. Wasn't it ever going to come? What a Christmas Eve, "and Stella likely sitting in a blue stately fume, cramming herself with pity ... the beautiful, talented, brutally treated (he gave a soundless laugh at the thought) and neglected wife of a slum doctor 1 Well, he had telephoned her and told her to go on to the Richards. And he had also telephoned the Richards and told them; but they had said, " Well, you know Mrs.

  Prince! She won't come without you. " Clever Stella; playing the part of the dutiful wife, awaiting her husband's return with coffee and sandwiches and a loving smile. Clever Stella.... Oh, my God, where was it going to end? Four years of it now, and perhaps ten fifteen ...

  twenty more.... Oh no 1 If only he didn't love her so much....

  Christmas Day tomorrow; she would go to church and kneel like one of God's angels, somewhere where the choir boys could see her.

  Poor choir boys He knew the feelings she would send through them. How could they think of the Trinity? sing their little responses? when the great God Nature, he who gave you concrete proof of his presence, was competing against the other God, who, as far as they understood, wasn't introduced to them until they were dead. Oh, Stella! What was he thinking? He was so tired. If only he could go home after this was over and find her there, soft and yielding, wanting some^

  thing from him. "Doctor! Doctor!"

  He turned swiftly towards the bed and gripped the hands outstretched to him.

  "There, there! Is it starting again? Try hard now."

  "How much longer, doctor?"

  "Not long," he lied; 'any time now. Only don't worry; you'll be all right. "

  "I don't mind ... I don't mind." The tousled head rolled to and fro on the pillow.

  "I want to die ... I hope we both die ... just go out quietly...."

  "Kate, here, don't talk like that 1' He released one of his hands from hers and brought her face round to look at him, his palm against her cheek.

  "Now, we want none of that nonsense. Do you hear?"

  Her great blue eyes looked up at him, quietly and enquiringly, for a second.

  "What chance has it?" she asked.

  He knew she wasn't enquiring after the child's chance of being born alive, although about that he was beginning to have his doubts, but of its chance to live in her world, handicapped as it would be.

  "As much as the next," he answered her.

  "And more," he added, 'seeing it'll be your child. "

  Now, what had made him say that? For, if it inherited her beauty and was brought up in these surroundings, it was doomed from birth. How the feelings of kindliness made one lie, made one tactful and insincere! Only when you hated someone did you tell the truth.

  He pulled up a rickety chair and sat down, letting Kate, in her spasms, pull on his arm. Where the deuce had that drunken sot got to? The room was cold; the fire that had glowed for a little while had died down under its heap of coal dust If that old hag didn't come back he'd be in a nice fix; the mother downstairs was less than useless, scared to death of her man, and of this event, and of life in general. If that Clarke woman didn't come back. But why was he harping on about her not coming back? She was a midwife. of sorts; it was her job. But he had had a little experience of her during these last few months, and he had come to recognise her as a fawning leech, picking her victims from among the poorer of her own kind.

  "Oh, doctor Oh, God!"

  Easing the bedclothes off the contorted figure he moved his hands quickly over her. Then he covered her up again and banged on the floor with his heel. In a few seconds the door was opened quietly, and the mother stood there, clutching her holland apron in both hands.

  "Has Mrs. Glarke come back yet?"

  "No, doctor."

  "Then will you kindly get this fire to burn? Put wood on it."

  "There's no wood, doctor; there's only the slack."

  "Can't you break up something?"

  She looked at him helplessly; her lips twitched, and her tongue seemed to be moving at random in her mouth. He couldn't meet her eyes. He thrust his hand into his pocket and handed her a sovereign. She looked at it, lying bright and yellow on her palm. Her tongue ran wild races between her teeth, but she made no sound.

  "Get what's necessary," he said gruffly.

  "And perhaps a chicken; Kate will likely need it tomorrow."

  She nodded slowly at him, while her tongue, darting from side to side, caught the drops as they ran down her cheeks.

  Kate was moaning; she could hear herself. The moans seemed to float around her, then rise up to the ceiling and stick on the mottled plaster. Most of them were right above her head, gathered together in the dark patch that formed the three-legged horse which had been her companion and secret confidant since childhood. He wouldn't mind having her moans; he thought all about her, her sins, the secret things she thought and was ashamed of, even her feeling sometimes that there couldn't be a God. It was, as she had once read, that people like Father O'Malley were only put there to stop people like her from thinking; for, if she once started thinking, she and her like wouldn't put up with things as they were. Jimmy McManus had lent her that book, but she had understood hardly anything at all of it. Yet, it was after reading it that she had gone and got the place is in Newcastle, in the best end . Shields wasn't good enough for her.

  And it was after reading that very book that she had taken off all her clothes and had stood naked before the mirror, swinging its mottled square back and forth so that she could see every part of herself; and glorying in it as she did it, and knowing that she was beautiful, that she was fit to marry anybody. It was only her talk that was all wrong.

  But she would learn; she was quick at picking things up. Of course, she had suffered for this. Her conscience had driven her to conession, and, in the dark box, with face ablaze, she had confessed the greatest sin of her life. The priest had told her she must guard against the sin of impurity by keeping a close watch on her thoughts; and he went on to explain how a great saint, when sorely tempted by the flesh, had thrown himself naked into a holly bush, or was it a bramble?

  she wasn't sure now.

  The moans floated thick about her. Where was John now? Did he know he was soon to be a father? Had he ever been a father before? He wasn't a husband, she wasn't a wife; yet she was having a baby. It was all her own fault, she couldn't blame John; he had never mentioned marriage to her. Her inherent honesty had told her so a thousand times these past months.

  "John 1' she called out sharply as the doctor wiped the sweat from her face.

  "It's all right, Kate, it's all right; it won't be long now."

  It won't be long now! It won't be long now! the moans said. John's baby, with his slant eyes and beautiful mouth. It was as near as yesterday when she had first see
n him, seated in the Jacksons'

  drawing-room. Since two of the maids had been sent into town, she had been told that she was to serve tea . wee cakes and china cups.

  Something had happened inside her when their eyes had first met. She had been glad to get out of the room and into the coolness of the hall.

  He had been there only three days when he slipped a note to her, asking her to meet him. Oh, the mad joy! the ecstasy of love before its fulfilment! Even when she had given herself to him, it had not compared with the strange delight of knowing she was wanted; and by him, a gentleman who had

  travelled the world. Twice he had taken her; only twice; and both times within a month, on her half-day. Right up Lanesby way they had gone; and he had told her she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, that he loved her as shed never be loved again, and that shed always be his. "Oh, doctor! Doctor!"

  "It's all right," he assured her, as he went out of the room.

  "Mrs.

  Hannigan! " he shouted to the frightened face, framed in the shawl, already at the bottom of the dim stairs, 'get me Mrs. Clarke here at once 1' " I'm here, doctor 1' cried a voice, 'an' I can't come up them stairs. "

  Mrs. Clarke pushed Sarah Hannigan to one side, and stood glaring up at him.

  "Something's happened to me knee with that fall I had down the bl--down the stairs. I'm beside me self with the pain of it. I don't know if I'll be able to get back home through this snow, the drifts are chin high."

  "Mrs. Clarke, I've got to have help! You'll come up here if I have to carry you up!"

  "Begod, an' I will not 1 Look at that!" she cried.

  He bounded down the stairs towards her. She had pulled up her skirt and was disclosing her knee, already laid bare for inspection.

  He looked at it. Well, that settles that. The damned woman, you would think she had done it on purpose. He thought a moment . "Nurse Snell, that's it! She'll come. How can I get... ?"

  "It's no use. She's in the heart of Jarrow this very minute after a case; I saw her go only a couple of hours ago." Mrs. Clarke was triumphant.

  "It's nobody you'll get this night. Now, Doctor Kelly used to----' "

  Be quiet, woman! " He glared at her, the point of his beard thrust out.

  Begod, if she could only strike him down dead! Him to speak to her like that, and to call her--woman 1 . She that was looked up to and respected for her knowledge all round these black buildings, all fifteen streets of them. They had even sent for her from Shields and Jarrow to deliver, before today, and Doctor Kelly had said she was every bit as good as himself. Yet this young snot . with i7