Free The Bells of Scotland Road by Ruth Hamilton

Granda’s, Mammy had shared a room with her daughters.
    ‘With Mr Bell, of course. Married people stay in the same room. Did you not know that?’
    Cathy shrugged, blushed, hated her own ignorance. ‘I know, I know. I’d just forgotten, that’s all.’
    ‘Never mind.’ Tildy was the eternal optimist. ‘You’ll get used to it, girl. Come on, let’s go for some breakfast.’
    Bridie was beside herself. During the night, she had made her way upstairs, had managed to get about by lighting her path with a candle. The girls and Tildy Costigan had been
fast asleep, so she had returned to the comfortless sofa to rest her travel-wearied bones. And now, at seven o’clock in the morning, one of her daughters seemed to have disappeared into thin
air.
    Shauna moaned in her mother’s arms. ‘Want Cathy. Where she gone?’
    Bridie tutted, threw open a door, peered into a room filled with bulky shapes. The next bedroom was the same – piled high with junk, no sign of occupation. ‘Are you hiding in
there?’ she asked fruitlessly. Then, in a room opposite the one assigned to Cathy and Shauna, Bridie finally found humanity of a kind. ‘Who’s there?’ croaked a rusty
voice.
    Bridie hesitated, placed Shauna on her feet and advanced, the candle held before her like a very frail defence. ‘I’m Bridie,’ she said. ‘And Cathy’s gone missing,
so I’m—’
    ‘Hold the light up. Let’s have a look at you.’ The tone was imperious, and the accent announced a person whose origins were not hereabouts. ‘So you’re the new wife.
Hmmph. Not much flesh on you. Will you be able to lift me? I need turning a few times so I won’t have bedsores. It gets uncomfortable being stuck in bed all the while.’
    Bridie couldn’t have cared less about anything – including this rude old woman’s various disorders. ‘Look, can we talk about that later? My daughter is missing.’
She pondered for a second. ‘And there’s another one gone, too, one called Tildy.’
    Theresa Bell sucked briefly on her few remaining teeth. ‘Go to Dryden Street after,’ she advised. ‘That’s where they’ll be, in Elizabeth Costigan’s house. But
first, I’ll have my cup of tea, two sugars and no milk.’
    Bridie stood her ground. ‘I must find Cathy first,’ she insisted.
    ‘Then wake Sam,’ snapped the old woman. ‘He’s always got my breakfast up to now, so once more won’t hurt.’ She sniffed. ‘He’s not a lot of use to
me, but he makes a good brew.’
    Bridie turned, dragged her younger child back to the landing. There was only one door left. She knew he was behind it, because she had peeped in there a few hours ago when looking for the
girls’ room. ‘Wait here for Mammy,’ she told Shauna. After taking a deep breath, she approached the door.
    He was awake and seated on the edge of his double bed. The remaining hair stuck out round his head like a slipped halo. ‘Morning,’ he mumbled. ‘Have you seen to Muth?’ He
sneezed, coughed, fumbled with a handkerchief.
    ‘Who? Oh, yes – I mean no. I’ve seen her, but I’ve done nothing for her because I’m worried about Cathy.’
    Sam, too, was worried about Cathy. Last night, Thomas Murphy had painted a graphic picture of the older girl’s carryings-on at the landing stage. Sam avoided trouble whenever possible. The
feud between his sons was yet to be settled, but Sam had placed himself alongside the righteous. Oh yes, he had invested his faith in Liam, an ordained priest. Anthony would mellow in time, he felt
sure. But Sam didn’t fancy another cartload of mischief from his bride’s offspring. ‘What’s Cathy done?’ he asked.
    ‘She’s disappeared.’
    He yawned. ‘She’ll be getting her breakfast round at the Costigan house. Tildy’s probably with her, so she’ll come to no harm, you can be sure of that.’
    Bridie swallowed. No harm? At just gone seven in the morning, Scotland Road was lively. The drumming of feet along the pavement was almost