Читать книгу A Daughter’s Secret - Anne Bennett - Страница 10

FIVE

‘Have you anything to wrap around yourself?’ McAllister asked Aggie when they had gone a little way down the road. ‘You are shivering like a leaf.’

‘It isn’t with cold, or at least not that alone,’ Aggie said. ‘It’s mainly fear.’

‘Well, I can do nothing about the fear; you must combat that on your own,’ McAllister answered. ‘But if you have brought a shawl or anything, I would put it around you, that’s all I’m saying.’

Aggie did then delve in the bag and pull out the shawl, but even wrapped tight around her, it did nothing for the icy dread that seemed to be seeping all through her body.

‘Are you sure your sister won’t mind me just landing on her?’ she asked at last.

‘No,’ McAllister said confidently. ‘I have explained it all in a letter that I will give you to show her. Big sister Gwen refuses me nothing.’

‘You might be a better man if she had a time or two,’ Aggie was tempted to say, but she bit back the retort. There was little point in annoying McAllister at this late stage, particularly when she needed information. So instead she said, ‘And what about getting rid of the baby and all? Will she know someone?’

‘Course she will,’ McAllister said. ‘You won’t be the first person she has helped, not by a long chalk. Everyone in the area knows her. Her name isn’t McAllister but Halliday, Gwen Halliday, for she was married. She lives in Varna Road now in a place called Edgbaston. That’s not far at all from New Street Station in Birmingham city centre.’

‘Her husband might have something to say about me just turning up,’ Aggie said, ‘however lax Gwen seems to be.’

‘Oh, the old man is dead and gone now,’ McAllister said. ‘She was left with the one son to rear but he’s grown up too. See, Gwen is twelve years older than me and was more of a mother to me than my own ever was. She won’t let me down, never fear.’

‘Won’t she be shocked that this is your child that I am having to get rid of?’

‘Why should she be?’ McAllister said. ‘She knows what men and woman get up to. The prostitutes working the area were forever seeking her out. Can’t work if they have kids hanging on to them, can they now?’

Aggie had never been so shocked in the whole of her life. ‘Does she know prostitutes?’ she said.

In Buncrana such things just didn’t go on, but everyone knew that prostitutes were the very dregs of society.

McAllister laughed. ‘Time for you to grow up, little girl,’ he sneered. ‘When our father died, Gwen was fifteen and there were six mouths to feed. With my mother gone to pieces altogether, Gwen went on the streets to prevent us all starving to death. She eventually married one of the punters. Our mother had died by then too, and as I was the youngest she took me in to live with her and her husband. Then when she was widowed, she went back out on the streets again to provide for her son. That’s how it is.’

Aggie mouth dropped open. She had never been so shaken in the whole of her life. Surely that wasn’t really how things were, not in normal, respectable society.

‘What price is virtue, Agnes?’ McAllister went on. ‘Especially if the alternative is starving to death?’ He gave a wry laugh and added, ‘Not that Philomena knows any of this. She would react very much as you did, shocked to the core of her Roman Catholic soul. She doesn’t know much about my earlier life at all. She met Gwen just the once, at our wedding, and they never really hit it off. I used to visit Gwen on my own after that.’

‘I am not surprised they didn’t hit it off,’ Aggie said, her lip curling in distaste. ‘Your wife is an honest and decent woman. You talk about women choosing to go with men for money as if it is just a job like any other.’

‘So it is.’

‘How can you say that? Aren’t there normal jobs for people?’

‘Jobs are often few and far between,’ McAllister said. ‘And if you should get one, it will usually be backbreaking work for long hours, and all you pick up at the end of the week is a pittance of a wage. Gwen didn’t want that sort of life and I don’t blame her.’

Aggie was silent. She wondered what sort of place she was going to at all where things totally alien to her seemed almost commonplace. What sort of woman was this Gwen, whom she would be forced to rely on? The apprehension in her increased. However, it was too late now for doubts and second thoughts. The die was cast.

McAllister delivered Aggie to Derry Station, but could not take time to stay with her because he had to get the horse back to Buncrana before the place was astir. Aggie understood his concern, even shared it, and yet it was hard to see him disappear into the darkness. The waiting room was open so there was shelter from the wind at least, but inside the dark was so intense Aggie thought a person could almost touch it. She was so cold her teeth chattered and she couldn’t remember being as scared in the whole of her life.

For a time she sat on the wooden bench running around the walls, aching with cold and fear, but eventually, worn down by weariness, she lay down on the bench, drew her legs under her, and with her shawl wrapped about her she closed her eyes.

She woke stiff and colder than ever, and noticed straight away that the darkness was not so deep. She pulled herself to her feet and began to walk briskly around the small room, slapping herself with her arms to get the blood flowing as she watched light steal into the day. Already she would have been missed at home, but her parents would know no more than that, because Tom would never betray her.

She wondered what they would think, for she’d spoken the truth when she’d told McAllister that she hadn’t a penny piece to bless herself with. She wondered how long it would be until her mother noticed the missing clothes and would guess that she had run away. Mammy would be perplexed for she would know that Aggie had nowhere to run to.

Would McAllister betray her? She doubted that. There was one other person, though, that would, at the very least, be aware that McAllister hadn’t slept in his bed that night and that was Philomena. When the news that she had run away from home became common knowledge, would she put two and two together? Would she challenge him or, heaven forbid, tell her parents of her suspicions?

Would they call out the Garda and could they make her return home if they found her? She imagined they probably could, and that thought made her feel colder than ever. She wouldn’t feel totally safe until a stretch of water separated her from her parents.

It seemed an age until other people began arriving at the station and the ticket office opened. Aggie was then able to spend some of McAllister’s money and make her way to the platform where the train lay waiting. There were few travelling that February morning, but those on the train were curious about such a young girl travelling alone.

Aggie knew they would be and she had her story ready. She told them she was to take up service in one of the big houses near Birmingham in England. As she told the lies she thought that in the end that might be the truth because when this was all over – provided she survived, of course – she had to have a job and place to live. Being in service seemed as good as any other employment.

‘Why Birmingham?’ one woman asked, while another commented that she was young to travel so far alone.

There again Aggie had her answer. Her brother worked in Birmingham, she said, and would be meeting her off the train at the other end and taking her to her place of work. The women were only slightly mollified, but Aggie knew how delighted she would be if the tale she had delivered had been the truth.

She was glad of the women’s concern for her, though, when they reached the mail boat straining against the ropes that secured it to the dock side for she was scared as well as a little excited to be boarding it. But the excitement fled when the boat was on the move, tossed from side to side by the turbulent waves, making Aggie feel so sick she vomited over and over till her stomach ached and her throat felt raw.

‘You’ll likely get used to it,’ one of the women told her.

‘Aye,’ said another. ‘Sure, wasn’t I just the same when I went over first? Now I take it in my stride as you will, cutie dear.’

Aggie gazed at her through bleary eyes. She could not remember feeling this ill since she had had the measles, and she had the feeling she could never get used to the crossing. Anyway, she told herself, she wouldn’t have to get used to it; the chances were that she would never see the shores of Ireland again. Maybe some day she might regret that, but at that moment all she could feel was relief.

‘Come on away inside,’ the first woman urged. ‘The wind would cut you in two and it’s cold enough to even freeze a penguin’s chuff, as my old man would say.’

It was cold, and the sight of the huge, relentless waves crashing in cascades of foam against the sides of the rolling boat did little to stop the churning of Aggie’s stomach, so she gave a brief nod and followed the woman as she led the way into one of the saloons. The smell of cigarette smoke and Guinness was mixed with slight body odour and vomit from those who hadn’t made it outside. Aggie only managed a minute or so of breathing it in before she was making for the deck again.

And that was where she stayed until the boat docked in Liverpool. Even when the sleety rain began she stayed put, so by the time she was ready to disembark, she was wet to the skin. The women tutted over the state of her and said she would catch a chill if she wasn’t careful. Aggie hid her wry smile. Dear God, if that was all she had to worry about.

She continued to feel sick even when she had left the boat far behind and was in the train travelling down to Birmingham. She hadn’t thought to bring anything to eat, but didn’t feel like anything either, and when her companions offered to share their food with her she shook her head.

‘Thank you, but my stomach isn’t right yet.’

‘Might feel better with something in it.’

‘I don’t think so yet,’ Aggie said. ‘Maybe when we get to that place called Crewe. You say that we have to change trains there?’

‘Aye,’ one of the women told her. ‘It’s a regular stopping place. Nearly everyone has to change at Crewe and it has got a café on the station. And you’re right, you may well feel like something there.’

The only thing that Aggie really felt like, though, when she sat in the slightly smoky café at Crewe Station was a cup of hot sweet tea. She gulped at that gratefully as she gazed out on to the platform through grimy windows that were slightly misted over because of the teeming rain outside, and waited for the train to take her on the last leg of her journey.

She knew in her heart of hearts that the nausea and weakness she felt was more a sickness of the soul. With this behind her she would soon be fine and healthy once more. Then all she would have to cope with was the fact that she was alone in the world, and she’d not be the only one. They had foundlings enough at their own workhouse who had never known the love of a family and growing up among brothers and sisters. She imagined in a large city like Birmingham there would be plenty more and so she told herself firmly to stop feeling sorry for herself.

When she arrived at New Street Station, however, the sheer size and noise of the place unnerved her totally. The train pulled to a stop with a squeal of brakes and hiss of steam, and people spilled from the carriages onto the platform.

Everyone seemed to know where they were going, Aggie thought, sniffing at the damp and sooty air, surrounded by more people than she had ever seen in the whole of her life. The place was full of sound. Apart from the clatter of the trains and the ear-splitting screech of the hooter, there was the tramp of feet and the noise of raucous voices raised in laughter or greeting.

Porters’ voices warning everyone to ‘Mind your backs, please’ rose above it all as they pushed laden trolleys through the milling crowds. Through this cacophony, a news vendor with a strident, though slightly nasal-sounding voice, shouted out in an attempt, Aggie supposed, to sell the newspapers spread before him, but she had to guess this because she couldn’t understand a single word that he said.

‘So where is your brother, dear?’ said one of her travelling companions. ‘We’ll stay with you till we see that you are all right.’

Aggie was filled with panic. They intended to wait with her till the brother she had invented should put in an appearance, and she looked around anxiously. There were still plenty of people around and, knowing that there was nothing else for it, she picked up her bag and said, ‘There he is, over by the steps. Thank you so much for looking after me.’ She was away before they could think to detain her, to insist they meet the fictitious brother and ascertain that Aggie was all right.

Aggie was soon hidden from their view by the crowds of people and she secreted herself behind a pillar and watched her travelling companions who were scrutinising the crowds going up the stairs closely. Then one gave a shrug and they turned their attention to their luggage scattered around them on the platform. Aggie didn’t breathe easy, however, till they had left the platform altogether. Even then, she stayed where she was a little longer and the crowds had thinned out considerably when she slid out of her hiding place and made her way towards the exit as resolutely as she could.

If the station had unnerved Aggie slightly that was nothing to the way she felt when she stepped into the street outside. Rain was falling so heavily it was like a wall of water and turned the late afternoon to dusk. Lights were lit on many of the vehicles, which gleamed onto streets glistening with water.

Aggie stared, for she had never seen so many vehicles all packed together on the roads, even some of the new petrol-driven motor cars that she had heard tell of, but never seen. There were horse-drawn vans and carts thronging the streets, and hackney cabs were ringing the station, waiting for customers. The smell was incredible: acrid, sour and sooty. It lodged in the back of Aggie’s throat and made her cough. The noise was relentless: a constant drone mixed with the chattering and shouts of the people, the sound of boots and the clopping of horses’ hoofs on the cobbled streets.

And then Aggie saw a clattering, swaying monster coming towards her. It both repelled and fascinated her. She drew nearer for a better look and saw that it ran on rails laid all along the road, while steam puffed from its funnel in front. It tore along at a furious rate, using its hooter constantly to warn people to get out of the way.

Aggie had drawn closer to the hackney cab drivers too, and one of the drivers, from the shelter of his seat, had watched her with slight amusement, noting that she seemed not to notice her soaking hair plastered to her head or her sodden clothes. Eventually he leaped from his seat and said to her, ‘You seem very interested in the trams, miss.’

‘Trams. Is that what they are?’

‘They are, miss,’ the cab driver said. ‘Run by steam and, if you believe what people say, they can travel at fifteen miles an hour.’ Here he gave a rueful smile. ‘People always seem to be in a hurry these days. Those blessed trams could easily put me out of business. I mean, Bessie is a good horse and no slouch either, but going full out on a flat stretch of road she can only manage half that speed. Maybe I will have to invest in one of those petrol engines for my next cab, but tell you the truth they scare the life out of me.’

‘And me,’ Aggie agreed. ‘And as for those trams, I don’t think I will ever have the courage to get on one. I have never seen anything like them before. There were none where I came from.’ She thought for a moment and went on, ‘When I was at school there was a girl come up to live in Buncrana from a place just outside Dublin and she said something about steam trams and the electric ones around Dublin. We weren’t at all sure that she was telling the truth, to be honest, and anyway, it was hard to visualise. They may have something similar in Derry or Belfast, I suppose, but it was too dark to see much.’

‘You have just come over on the boat then?’

‘Aye.’

‘May I say, miss, that you have chosen a fine time to come visiting?’

Aggie looked at him and in the lights from his lamps he was moved by the sadness in her eyes as she said, ‘It wasn’t by choice that I came now.’

The cab driver longed to ask why she was here then and whose choice it was, but he stopped himself. His wife was always telling him not to get so involved in the lives of the people he carried in his cab. His job, she said, was to get people from A to B, and if he didn’t spend so long talking to each one then he would probably earn a damned sight more than he did.

She was probably right, but he was interested in people. He couldn’t help it and he reckoned he couldn’t do the job as effectively if he didn’t like people.

As for the young Irish girl, she looked so vulnerable and naïve she aroused the paternal instinct in him. So he said, ‘You are very wet, miss, if you don’t mind me saying so. You should get on to where you are going quickly and then out of those sopping clothes or you will be ill.’

Aggie felt ill, chilled to the marrow, but that wasn’t solely due to the weather, as she well knew. She wasn’t at all sure either, now she was here in the city, what she should do next. McAllister said that his sister lived no distance from the centre in a place called Edgbaston, but in the deepening dusk, how far was far, and in what direction? She shivered with apprehension more than cold, because she guessed that once she left the city centre there would be few abroad that rain-sodden night to advise her.

‘I know I should,’ she said to the man, ‘but I am not at all sure what to do now.’

‘Well, where are you making for?’

‘Varna Road,’ Aggie said. ‘My aunt lives there.’

The cab driver thought of his young daughter at home. She was only six, but he hoped that she would never have to travel to some strange city alone, and he said angrily, ‘Fine aunt then, if she hasn’t even come to meet you.’

‘I don’t know her that well,’ Aggie admitted. ‘And I was delayed and unable to let her know. I was told it wasn’t far from here. If you just give me directions …?’

‘And have you die of pneumonia?’ the cab driver said with a rueful grin. ‘Come on, I’ll have you there in a jiffy. It is no distance really, just off Belgrave Road.’

‘Oh,’ said Aggie taken aback. ‘Will it cost very much?’

‘Not to you, and not tonight,’ the cab driver said, picking up Aggie’s bag with ease. He knew if his wife ever got to hear about this she would give out to him, but the girl was affecting him strangely. ‘Let’s just say that I am feeling in a generous mood.’

To Aggie this was all a little unreal, but she was so very tired, cold and unnerved at the thought of what lay ahead of her. So she let this man, this perfect stranger, take her hand, help her into the cab and drive her into the night.

Varna Road was a depressing street, one of many of back-to-back housing that was so prevalent in the city. It was Aggie’s first experience of such a neighbourhood and she was shocked to the core. Had she but known it, the cab driver hesitated to leave her there. He knew the profession her aunt was probably involved in if she lived in that street. Surely she hadn’t invited this untouched and beautiful young girl to join her?

‘It’s none of your business if she has,’ he could almost hear his wife’s voice in his ear. ‘Needs must when all is said and done.’ And so he said to Aggie, ‘You all right then? You did say this one.’

In the light of the guttering gaslamps Aggie could see the whole place was shabby, much of the paint was off the door, and flimsy grey nets hung at the grimy windows. She noted with shock that one of the panes of glass was out altogether and replaced by a piece of card. She hated the cab driver to think that she was related to someone who lived in such a dingy, unkempt house, and yet this was the address that McAllister had written.

As she lifted out her bag she said, ‘Yes, this is it. Thank you so much. You have been very kind.’

‘You’re sure now that you will be all right?’

‘Aye,’ Aggie said, wondering if she would ever be all right again. ‘Honestly, I will be grand now.’

The cab driver would rather have waited until he saw the girl safe inside the house at least, but he had earned little money that night and couldn’t go home yet awhile, and so he waited only until he saw the girl lift the knocker before he jiggled Bessie’s reins, the horse gave a toss of her head and the cab rattled over the cobbles.

While she waited for someone to open the door, Aggie watched the cab driver go, heard the clip-clop of the horse’s hoofs and the rumble of the cab grow softer, and still no one came in answer to her knock. She lifted the knocker again, but before she let it drop, the woman next door came out.

‘Ain’t no good you knocking there, ducks. Her’s done a moonlight. Heard tell the bums were coming to put her out, like.’

Aggie stared at the woman in stupefaction. She hadn’t the least idea what she was talking about.

The woman realised that by the look on her face and it annoyed her. ‘You deaf or just plain stupid?’ she barked.

‘I’m sorry,’ Aggie said, trying to collect her scattered wits. ‘I am looking for a Mrs Halliday, a Mrs Gwen Halliday.’

‘Ain’t you listened to a bleeding word I said?’ the woman snapped. ‘She ain’t here, like I already told you.’

‘Not here?’ Aggie repeated. ‘But where is she?’

‘How the bleeding hell do I know?’ the woman said. ‘Look, you come over on the banana boat or what?’ And then at the terrified look on Aggie’s face, she relented and said, ‘Look, ducks. Her was took bad and got behind with the rent, like, and she heard that the bums was coming. If they throw you out they take your things to sell them, so Gwen took off, like, in the middle of the night. She dain’t leave no forwarding address neither. People who have to do a moonlight don’t usually, in case them bums get hold of it.’

‘So no one knows where she is?’ Aggie asked in horrified tones.

‘That’s about the shape of it,’ the woman said. ‘What do you want with her anyroad? You in trouble? Up the duff, like?’

‘Up the duff?’

‘Lord give me strength,’ the woman cried in exasperation. ‘You got a babby in your belly, ’cos that’s the main reason people come seeking Gwen?’

Aggie nodded miserably.

‘Do you know of anyone else?’ the woman asked.

‘I don’t,’ Aggie said. ‘Not a soul.’

‘You poor sod,’ the woman said. ‘Then it will be the workhouse for you.’ She saw the shiver that ran through Aggie and cried, ‘OK, so it ain’t the Ritz, but it’s better than the streets. And talking of streets, I better get out there and earn my crust, though I doubt there will be many punters out in this filthy night.’

Aggie suddenly realised what line of work the woman was talking of. In case there should be any doubt, she went on, ‘I think I’ll go and hang around the gentlemen’s clubs in the town. They often take you to a nice warm room. Course, a lot of them want the kinky stuff, but I don’t mind that if they pay enough.’ The woman wrapped her shawl tighter around herself as she spoke. ‘Well, tar-rah a bit, duck, and if I was you I would get myself inside somewhere pronto. Even the workhouse is better than freezing to death.’

Aggie didn’t speak. She couldn’t, for despair and desperation were blocking her throat. Then, as she watched the woman tripping down the street, sudden nausea overcame her and she turned and vomited into the gutter.

Aggie had always been a practical child, an attitude fostered by her mother, but now she walked through the backstreets of Birmingham aimlessly and in despair. The rain continued to trickle from skies that now were almost black as the night began to close around her. She had never ever been so petrified with fear. She hadn’t a clue what was going to happen to her because she knew not one person in that teeming city.

She had money and could probably get lodgings, but that would only help for that one night, and there was still the problem of getting rid of the child she carried. She had little hope of finding this Gwen Halliday if she didn’t want to be found, and so her life was effectively over, though her whole body recoiled from knocking at the door of the workhouse.

She wasn’t sure afterwards how long she had walked, or why. She just felt she couldn’t stand still. She was light-headed with worry and lack of food. It had been hours since she had eaten. Hunger pangs began in her stomach so severe that she wrapped her arms tight around herself and groaned in pain.

As the night really took hold, the temperature dropped and Aggie began to shiver violently, for her sodden coat offered little protection against it. She felt suddenly weary too. She stumbled as she walked, and longed to lie down and rest somewhere, so that a little later, when she tripped over the kerb and fell to the ground, hitting her head on the cobbles, she made no effort to get up.

Lethargy so affected her that to move was too much effort. She suddenly had no pain, just a numbness affecting her whole body. A tiny part of her urged herself to get to her feet, to keep walking, but she ignored it. She lay as still as the death that would soon claim her, while the night deepened and settled around her and the rain continued to fall, and she was so tired that her eyes closed of their own volition.