Page 50 of The Chef and the Countess

Chapter 16

After slipping on her wool coat, Celia hurried down the rear stairs. Once inside, she peeked into the boys’ room, but Tommy wasn’t there. She entered the kitchen and found Tommy slicing pickles.

“What are you doing, Tommy?”

He smiled. “I thought I would get a head start on the sandwich fillings for tomorrow. I already cut up some chicken.”

Celia smiled and playfully tousled his hair. “You are a fine lad. Thank you.”

Tommy laid the knife on the cutting board. “Did you talk to Liam?”

“Yes, I did. Tommy, do you want a father?” Celia would not push them together if there was any chance Tommy would reject Liam outright. Both man and boy were vulnerable. She could sense it. Although, if confronted with the notion, neither would admit it.

“I think so. I never had one. Sometimes, when I felt low at the workhouse, I wondered if my mother lied about my father coming to fetch me. Maybe she didn’t want me to see her die. But my mum had never lied to me before. And she wouldn’t fib about something important.”

“That is correct. Your mum would not tell falsehoods about this,” Celia replied firmly.

“Will Liam ask—do I take his name?” Tommy asked tentatively.

“There is no rush. I’m sure the choice will be up to you. Maybe you could keep your mum’s name, too.”

“Oh. Like Thomas Clahane Hallahan?”

Celia smiled. “That has a nice ring to it. Get your coat, and I will take you upstairs to Liam, where you can discuss it. Do not hold anything back, Tommy. Tell Liam everything you are feeling.”

“What about the pickles?”

“You can put them away later.” Celia grabbed the roll of parchment paper, tore off a piece, and placed it over the food.

Tommy nodded, wiped his hands on the tea towel, then collected his coat and scarf. Once they entered the upstairs hall, Celia waved to Liam, standing before the door. They walked toward him.

“I’ll leave you two to talk in peace.” As she turned to go, Liam took her hand. The warmth of his touch caused her heart to speed up, as it did every time he came near.

“Please stay. Is it all right with you, Tommy?” Liam asked.

“Aye. Please, Celia?”

How could she refuse? “If you wish.”

They headed into Liam’s sitting room and removed their coats. Liam sat in his chair, and Celia and Tommy sat on the sofa opposite him.

“I swear, lad, I knew nothing about you. Not in all these years. Your old landlady found an unfinished letter addressed to me. By the time I received it, a year had already passed since your mum died. I went to the workhouse immediately, but they said you’d run off with a boy called Timmy Cagney.”

“Oh,” Tommy said softly. “That’s why you didn’t come. You never got the letter.”

“No. According to the landlady, your mum died a few days after she placed you. Mrs. Tingley moved your mother’s remaining possessions to the cellar.”

“To sell them?”

Liam nodded. “Aye. For the rent owed, she said. Mrs. Tingley was going through the last of the clothing when she found the letter tucked in a pocket. Why did you run from the workhouse?”

Tommy shrugged. “I didn’t like it there. There was never enough food, and a lot of hard work. And they beat us. Timmy said he was escaping, so I went with him. I was soon sorry I followed him. Living on the streets was worse.”

“Aye,” Liam whispered. “It is at that.”

“How did you find me?”

“Fate, I suppose. Or pure luck. I looked in a few places in the East End. Then, one day, I saw three lads in the line for the free stew. I heard the names Timmy and Tommy. I followed you to Bethnal Green. When I saw you—I knew your mum was correct.”