A Liverpool Legacy by Anne Baker

is the cold room and the storeroom, and here is the laundry and the ironing room.’
    ‘What are those?’ Millie paused under a row of bells along one wall.
    ‘In the olden days they were for summoning the servants,’ Helen told her, ‘but Dad has had them disconnected as we don’t have proper servants any more.’
    ‘There’s only Hattie now. Come and say hello to her, she’ll be in the library.’ Millie followed them in, and a slim, elegant lady in late middle age got up from the desk where she’d been writing. ‘I do hope you’ll be able to rest here,’ she said, ‘and that you’ll soon feel better. The girls will look after you, but if there’s anything more you need, just let me know.’
    ‘Hattie is a sort of relative, she was married to Dad’s cousin but was widowed when she was quite young,’ Valerie said when they were out of earshot. ‘When our mother was ill, she came to live here to look after her and us too. She takes care of the housekeeping. Both she and Dad are very family-minded and think we should take care of each other.’
    ‘Come upstairs,’ Helen said, ‘and see our playroom and Dad’s study.’
    Millie was dazzled. ‘You have a room just to play in?’
    ‘Yes, and then we have to go up to the second floor to our bedrooms.’ Valerie was throwing open the doors as she walked along the corridor. ‘Dad thought this would be the best room for you, it’s next to mine and Helen’s.’
    Millie found herself installed in a bedroom with a floor space greater than that of the whole flat she’d left. It had a lovely view over their garden and seemed luxurious, but it took her some time to feel at ease in her new surroundings. She found Hattie was kindness itself and took her under her wing, making sure she’d booked a hospital bed for her delivery and that she also saw a nearby doctor.
    Millie was able to rest more and still spend many hours with her mother. The nuns were very kind and attentive to her needs, but Millie could see she was fading and found it agonising to watch her strength ebbing away. She eventually lapsed into a coma and died three weeks after the move to St Winifred’s. Millie was heartbroken at losing her but knew how much her mother had suffered and that she hadn’t feared the end.
    Hattie arranged a simple funeral for her and Peter Maynard paid for it. Mungo helped her pick flowers from the garden to put on her coffin. Millie ached with her loss and was overwhelmed with gratitude. The Maynard household attended the funeral service at the church with her, but apart from Mr Knowles, there was nobody else.
    It left Millie feeling in an emotional turmoil and she knew she’d reached another crossroads. She was alone in the world and frightened of what the future would bring. She was dreading going back to the flat but at the same time she was embarrassed by the never-ending kindness of the Maynards and was half expecting them to say, ‘Enough is enough, you can’t expect to stay here for ever.’
    At dinner the next day she thanked them for their hospitality and all the help they’d given her but said she felt she should go home and not be a further burden to them.
    ‘You’ve come through a very difficult time,’ Peter Maynard said, his eyes kindly and full of concern, ‘that can’t be just shrugged off. You need peace to grieve and time to rest to get over it. I think you should stay another week or two at least.’
    ‘So do I,’ Hattie said. ‘You don’t look well, how could you? You need building up.’
    ‘Anyway,’ Valerie said, ‘it’s your birthday on Friday, you can’t go before then, Hattie is planning a special dinner that night.’
    Millie let them persuade her to stay. She was going to be eighteen but on the morning of her birthday, while the girls were at school and their father at work, she felt her first pains. She was panic-stricken and doubling up as she ran to find Hattie. ‘I think the baby’s coming,’ she wept, ‘but it’s