The Leaving Of Liverpool by Maureen Lee Read Free Book Online Page B

buy a ticket and in a few weeks the sisters would be reunited in New York.
    Olive had mucked up an awful lot of lives. ‘Good never comes out of bad,’ her old ma used to say. Well, Ma should know. All she’d ever known was bad, in the form of a husband who’d beat hell out of her and her kids. At thirteen, Olive had left home and had been living by her wits ever since. Even so, it was no excuse to take it out on the Kenny girls. Neither had done her any harm. Indeed, hadn’t Mollie been really nice to her, spoken to her as an equal, despite knowing she was a tart?
    She thought about Annemarie stranded on Ellis Island. The girl probably didn’t know if she was coming or going. Did she still have the bundle with her passport inside? Anyone could have pinched it: she hadn’t thought to put a label on. She remembered Ashley saying young women weren’t allowed off the island unless someone came to collect them. He’d actually offered to arrange for a friend to come and vouch for her, but by then Olive had had a better plan in mind. As far as blokes went, Ashley had been quite decent and she’d probably repaid him with a dose of the itchy wriggles.
    Her guilty thoughts were interrupted by gales of laughter from outside. She went over to the window. She could have been in any city in any country in the world. This part of New York was dark and barely lit, and there was no sign of the tall buildings seen from the ship. There was a rundown café across the road with a sign, ‘Joe’s Place’, that blinked on and off. A car had stopped and four young women were making their way inside, giggling so hard they could hardly stand up. Somewhere, a clock chimed six.
    Olive chewed her lip. It was a habit she must get out of: one of these days she’d have no bottom lip left. There was nothing she could do about Mollie, but she could do something about Annemarie.
    She pulled on the pink hat and picked up her cape - she wouldn’t put it on until she was outside so the man on the desk wouldn’t see how tatty it was; she put a coat on the mental list of things to buy tomorrow - and went downstairs. The man emerged from a cubbyhole behind when she rang the bell.
    ‘What can I do for you, miss?’ He smiled at her kindly. An elderly man with a thatch of snow-white hair, he spoke English well with an accent similar to Gertie’s.
    ‘I met someone on the boat, a young girl from Ireland same as me, but she was in steerage. She was expecting her aunt to come and meet her, but worried she hadn’t received her letter in time. I’d like to make sure she’s been collected. If not, I’ll take her to her aunt’s house. Is Greenwich Village very far?’ Christ, she was good at this! Her voice literally throbbed with sincerity.
    ‘Not all that far in a cab. Cabs don’t cost much,’ he added when Olive’s face fell at the idea of using some of the precious dollars. ‘Is the girl on the island? The Isle of Tears, people call it.’ Olive nodded. ‘Then you’ll have to catch the ferry. They run quite often, but you be careful, miss. This isn’t a good area for a young girl to be out in on her own.’
    ‘I’ll be careful,’ Olive promised.
    She left the hotel and walked swiftly in the direction of the docks, practising what she would say when she reached the island: ‘I’m Mollie Kenny. I’ve come for my cousin, Olive Raines. Our aunt in Greenwich Village is expecting her.’ If asked, she’d produce Mollie’s passport. It was a risky thing to do, but she’d got a kick out of the risks she’d taken today: the racing heart, the sweaty palms and, best of all, the glowing knowledge that she’d fooled everyone: Ashley, Gertie, the Customs’ officer. She could hardly include Annemarie, poor kid but, pretty soon, she could add Ellis Island to the list.
    But this would be the last risk she would take. As from tomorrow, her conscience would be clear and she wouldn’t give a damn what happened to the Kenny sisters.
     
    Bertha had