Sheila Riley [Riley - The Orphan Daughter

Nineteen-year-old Evie Kilgaren gathered her mane of honey-coloured hair into a loop of knicker elastic before taking a vase of heavy-scented lilies and freesias into the kitchen. The flowers were barely faded when she rescued them from the churchyard bin that morning.

Placing them in the centre of the table, she hoped their heady scent would mask the smell of damp that riddled every dwelling in the row of terraced houses opposite the canal and add a bit of joy to the place.

Whos dead? her mother, Rene, asked. Her scornful retort was proof she had already been at the gin and Evies heart sank. She had wanted today to be special. Surely her dead fathers birthday warranted a few flowers. Even if they were knock-offs from the church at least she had made an effort, which was more than her mother had.

I got them for Dads Evie was silenced by the warning flash in her mothers dark eyes. A warning she had seen many times before. Rene gave a hefty sniff, her eyes squinting to focus, her brow wrinkled, and her olive skin flushed. Evie knew that when her mother had drunk enough mothers ruin, she could be the life and soul of any party or, by contrast, one over could make her contrary and argumentative.

I thought theyd look nice on the table, Evie answered lightly, quickly changing her answer to try and keep the peace. She should have known better than to mention her father in front of Leo Darnel, whod moved in as their lodger six months ago and taken no time at all getting his feet under her mothers eiderdown. I found a vase in Her voice trailed off. Her mother wasnt listening. As usual, shed disappeared into the parlour to darken her finely shaped eyebrows with soot from the unlit grate make-up was still on ration dolling herself up for her shift behind the bar of the Tram Tavern. The tavern was barely a stones throw away on the other side of the narrow alleyway running alongside their house, so why her mother felt the need to dress to the nines was anybodys guess.

Out of the corner of her eye, Evie noticed a sudden movement from their lodger, who was standing near the range, which she had black-leaded that morning. Leo Darnel didnt like her and that was fine, because she didnt like him either.

He was a jumped-up spiv who tried to pass himself off as a respectable businessman. Respectable? He didnt know the meaning of the word, she thought, her eyes taking in the polished leather Chesterfield suite that cluttered the room and seemed out of place in a small backstreet terraced house.

None of your utility stuff, hed said, pushing out his blubbery chest like a strutting pigeon. All the time he had a wonky eye on the bedroom door. He would do anything to keep her mother sweet and made it obvious every chance he got to show Evie she was in the way.

Hed been very quiet for the last few minutes, Evie realised. That wasnt like Darnel. He was up to something, she could tell. He hadnt interrupted with a sarcastic comment as he usually did when she and her mother were having a tit-for-tat. His self-satisfied smirk stretched mean across thin lips as he hunched inside a crisp white shirt and peered at her.

His beady eyes looked her up and down as he chewed a spent matchstick at the corner of his mouth before turning back to the grate. His piggy eyes were engrossed in the rising flames of something he had thrown onto the fire. Her attention darted to the blaze casting dancing flares of light across the room.

No! Evie heard the gasp of horror and disbelief coming from her own lips. How could he be so callous? How could he? As he stepped back with arms outstretched like he was showing off a new sofa, Evie could see exactly what he had done.

You burned them! Evie cried, hurrying over to the range, pushing Darnel out of her way and grabbing the brass fire tongs from the companion set on the hearth, desperate to save at least some of the valuable night-school work.

Two years of concentrated learning to prove she was just as good as all the rest reduced to ashes in moments. Thrusting the tongs into the flames again and again was hopeless Her valuable notes disintegrated.

Mam, look! Look what hes done! Her blue eyes blazed as hotly as the flames licking up the chimney.

You are not the only one who can crawl out of the gutter? Mr High-and-mighty! Evie was breathless when her burst of anger erupted, watching the flames envelope her books, turning the curling pages to ash. She balled her work-worn hands, roughly red through cleaning up after other people and pummelled his chest. Why? She caught his mocking eyes turn to flint before being dealt a quick backhander that made her head spin.

Her nostrils, which only moments before had been filled with the sweet fragrance of summer freesias and Mansion polish, were now congested with blood as traitorous tears rolled down her cheek. Evie dashed them away with the pad of her hand, ashamed and angry because he was privy to her vulnerability. Her pale blue eyes dashed from the range to her mother, who was now standing in the doorway shaking painted nails.

That evil bastard burned my exercise books. They had all my notes in them two years work gone up in smoke! She had scrimped and saved every penny for the books from her measly wages, earned from skivvying in the offices of Beamers Electricals.

Whore you calling a bastard? Darnel was not the biggest or strongest man she had come across, but was no less intimidating. Leaning into her face, his carefully enunciated words through nicotine-stained teeth dared her to retaliate. You had better watch your mouth, my girl.

I am not your girl. Evie spat the words. My father wouldve made ten of you! If his ship hadnt impeded a German torpedo back in 1943, she thought. If he was here now thered be no need for a jumped-up racketeering lodger.

I pay the rent in this house, Darnels voice was low and menacing. An if you dont watch that attitude, youll be out on your ear!

And you reckon youll be the one to do it? Evie knew she was skating on thin ice challenging Darnel. He had no compunction about hitting her, although never when her mother was around and always with the threat that if she opened her mouth, he would make life very difficult for them. But he had slipped up this time. Her mother could see what a snake he really was and would throw him out for sure.

Dont backchat Leo, her mother said. Hes been very generous to us.

Surely her mother wasnt going to side with this so-called businessman, who was as slippery as a wet fish and operated his crooked empire under the radar of the local constabulary from their front parlour. Oh, well, in that case, Evie answered with a withering sarcasm that could match her mothers. Rarely stooping to the lowest level of communication, she felt this occasion called for it.

Her mother coveted the money he brought in, blinded by the gifts he plied her with, no questions asked. It became apparent to Evie her mother would not allow anybody to spoil their cosy set-up. Not even her own daughter.

Hes good to you. Thats all that counts, isnt it, Ma? Evie detected a flinch in her mothers posture. Rene liked to think she was still vibrant and desirable, there was no room in her life for words like