Читать книгу A Daughter’s Secret - Anne Bennett - Страница 11

SIX

Lily Henderson was making her way home. Usually she didn’t return until much later, but the rain had kept the punters away that night. In the end, she was so chilled she had gone into a public house for a few gins to chase the cold away. As she swayed her way home, she almost laid her length on the cobbles when she stumbled over Aggie. At first she thought it was just a pile of rags, and complained loudly at the stupidity of people throwing old clothes into the street to trip up innocent people going about their business.

Her strident voice semiroused Aggie, and she groaned. Immediately Lily stopped her complaining, not entirely sure if she had really heard a sound or not. But then it came again. Lily fell to her knees and whistled in astonishment when she felt Aggie’s saturated coat. She worked her way up her body until she reached the face, and assuming by the bonnet that the figure was a woman, she tapped her cheek lightly.

‘Come on, ducks,’ she said, and when there was no response, the smack was a little harder. This was followed by a shake, but the woman continued to lie so still and silent that Lily was alarmed. If they didn’t get her indoors soon, the girl or woman, whatever she was, would die. She set off for home to get help, hoping and praying that there was someone in who had also returned early.

The houses in Belgrave Road were large terraces. Lily shared one of these with other ‘ladies of the night’. Each had her own room, and there was a larger room downstairs that they used as a sort of sitting room. They got on well enough, for each had her patch and none impinged on the others.

Susie Wainwright, who was much younger than Lily, had just got in. She had changed out of her wet clothes and was drinking a cup of tea in the sitting room. Her feet were bare and she had a towel wrapped turban-style around her black curls. She had no intention of stepping out again that night and wasn’t a bit impressed with the tale that Lily was telling.

‘So,’ she said, ‘why are you telling me this?’

‘She’ll die if we don’t bring her in, like.’

‘Oh, Lily, for God’s sake!’ Susie exclaimed. ‘She’s probably just some old drunk and no loss if she does peg it.’

‘There weren’t no smell of booze off her.’

‘And just how could you be so sure of that?’ Susie said sarcastically. ‘Your breath is so gin-laden it is nearly knocking me back.’

‘All right, but this isn’t about me.’

‘All the same …’

‘For Christ’s sake, just come and look, will you?’ Lily cried. ‘It won’t take you a minute. It’s no distance from here.’

‘You’re a bloody nuisance, do you know that?’ Susie grumbled, getting up and shoving her feet into her still-damp boots. ‘Pass me my coat, you old nuisance, and if this is some wild-goose chase—’

‘It isn’t. I just know it isn’t.’

A few minutes later, Susie knew it wasn’t either. ‘She’s just a bit of a kid,’ she said, looking at Aggie in the light of the matches she had thought to bring with her. ‘Let’s get her inside quick. Your room would be best, as it’s on the ground floor.’

‘Yes, I suppose,’ Lily said. ‘She can have my bed as well for now at least.’

‘Can’t put her on the bed yet, though, Lil,’ Susie said, as between them they lifted Aggie’s inert body. ‘Her’s wringing wet.’

‘Can’t leave her on the bare boards either,’ Lily said. ‘Do her no bloody good at all, that.’

They manhandled her as gently as they could into the house and then into Lily’s fairly spartan bedroom.

‘Leave her down on the floor a minute while I get a blanket off the bed to lay her on,’ Lily said to Susie. Lily set light to the fire that she had laid before she left the house that evening.

‘I should take off her coat first,’ Susie advised. ‘It’s that wet, the blanket will be sodden in minutes.’

Lily saw the sense of that and it was as they eased Aggie’s coat off they realised that the moisture was not just water; some of it was blood running from her in a scarlet stream and covering her dress.

‘Almighty Christ!’

‘Where’s it coming from?’

‘God alone knows,’ Lily said grimly, ‘but we need to find out.’

‘Come on, then,’ Susie urged. ‘And quick. This young girl looks in a bad way to me.’

When they removed the last of Aggie’s soaked and bloodstained underclothes they realised the blood was pumping from inside her and the two women looked at one another.

‘God blimey, she’s miscarrying!’ Susie cried.

‘Aye, poor sod,’ Lily said sadly. ‘And if we’re not careful we’ll lose her as well as her babby.’

‘You’re right there, Lil. I’ll get some towels.’

They used the towels to pack around Aggie and then Susie rubbed at her shivering body, trying to bring life to it. Aggie’s eyes never opened, though she stopped shivering, and Lily wrapped her in the second dry blanket she had ready and moved her nearer to the fire. ‘Now, we’ve made her as comfortable as we can,’ she said. ‘I reckon that babby will come away before long.’

The two women sat on into the night, talking quietly together, near the crackling fire. Aggie was hot now, very hot, and Lily knew she had a fever. She sponged her down constantly, listening to her laboured breathing and watching the grimaces of pain flit across her face.

It was two in the morning before Aggie expelled the tiny foetus from her body and by that time both Lily and Susie were very tired. Lily washed Aggie down with warmed water she had ready and then put one of her own nightdresses on her. With Susie’s help she lifted her onto the bed. She packed her with fresh towels and then raised the bottom of the bed with bricks that Susie had found in the yard to try to prevent her haemorrhaging. Aggie didn’t regain consciousness.

By the morning the sweating had eased and Aggie’s face had returned to a more normal colour. The fever had broken and Lily breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Come on,’ Susie said. ‘I’m fair jiggered, but I will give you a hand hauling down one of the mattresses from the attic because you will never manage it alone.’

Lily was glad of Susie’s offer, for she had thought to just curl up on a rug. It wouldn’t really matter where she lay, she thought, as they struggled to bring the mattress down the stairs, because she was so tired she could have gone to sleep on a clothesline.

‘Where d’you want it?’ Susie asked as they pulled it into the room.

‘Right beside the bed,’ Lily said, ‘so I will be on hand if I am needed. And you best seek your bed before you fall to the floor in sheer weariness.’

Susie went thankfully. Lily turned to the girl on the bed. She noted her face was as white as the sheets Lily had pulled up to her chin, and her dark brown hair, released from her plaits, was fanned out on the pillow.

‘Who are you, bab?’ Lily murmured almost to herself. ‘And what man did the dirty on you, eh? Susie is right, you are very young.’

She didn’t expect an answer – the girl was still unconscious – and with another sigh she got to her feet, made up the mattress and undressed before slipping between the covers and falling into a deep sleep.

In a small cottage in Ireland the previous morning Tom rose to help with the milking with a heavy heart. He had been in his bed just about an hour and a half and he had no enthusiasm to face the day, for concern for Aggie was like a large knot of worry inside him. Added to this, he had to pretend he knew nothing about her disappearance in the night.

Biddy was annoyed that Aggie had not done her jobs that morning. Thinking that she had overslept, she told Joe, pounding through the house to join his brother and father in the cowshed, to rouse Aggie.

‘I can’t. Aggie isn’t there, Mammy,’ Joe said.

‘Not there?’ Biddy echoed, going in to see for herself. Aggie’s bed was empty. Biddy could only presume that she had risen early and gone off on pursuits of her own. She herself had to complete the jobs Aggie usually did and she remarked to Thomas John that the girl would get the rough edge of her tongue when she did return. Thomas John, however, remembered his daughter’s strange behaviour the previous day and warned her not to be too harsh on the girl.

‘Maybe she wasn’t feeling too well this morning and needed to walk in the fresh air a wee while,’ Thomas John went on. ‘Generally, you must admit she has never given you any bother.’

‘No,’ Biddy conceded. ‘In the main, she is a good girl.’

‘Well, then,’ Thomas John said, ‘let her have a few minutes to herself and I’m sure she will be full of apology and explanation when she does come home.’

She didn’t come home, though, that was the problem, and with the milking over Tom and Joe were sent to scour the farm lest Aggie had fallen and hurt herself. By the time they returned, Biddy had checked her room, found her things missing and knew she had run away.

‘But where would she run to and why?’ Thomas John asked.

‘The why we can go into when she is brought back,’ Biddy commented grimly. ‘As for where, well sure there is nowhere but Buncrana, for the girl knows no one beyond, and has no money. Tom, as soon as dinner is eaten I want you to go into Buncrana and ask around her friends and all. Be discreet. I don’t want the Garda alerted yet. I am sure she will be found in no time at all.’

Tom knew she wouldn’t be. If all had gone to plan she would now be on her way to Birmingham. Hatred for McAllister, who had forced this course of action on his sister, deepened still further. Though he knew it was fruitless Tom played the part and asked around. When he returned Thomas John insisted on informing the Garda and two officers came to the cottage that evening.

They were grim-faced but reassuring. ‘You’d not be up on what the young are at at all, at all,’ the older man said, ‘but as she has no money and no place to go, we’ll soon pick her up, never fear.’

‘There were gypsies camping not that far away for a few days,’ the younger garda said.

‘I hope you are not suggesting that my daughter has run away to gypsies?’ Biddy asked, affronted.

‘I’m not saying she has, missus,’ the garda went on, though he knew she wouldn’t be the first one to do that. ‘It’s just that gypsies get about and hear things.’

But the gypsy camp had been disbanded and there was not a sign of them when the garda investigated. The news that Aggie had run away with the gypsies spread like wildfire, as such things do. Tom could see that the garda believed that as well.

That first Sunday, after Mass, many came to talk to Biddy and she knew that while some offered support, others were there to gloat a little that their daughters hadn’t done such a thing. Tom, though, could not believe his ears when he heard McAllister commiserate with his father as he shook him by the hand.

He said that he had known Aggie well through the dancing and she was the last person he thought would disappear from her home and worry her parents so. ‘All goes to show that no one person knows the heart of another,’ he went on. ‘But this is one heart anyway you can be sure of, and if you need anything you only have to ask.’

‘Thank you, Bernie,’ Thomas John said. ‘You are very good. Tell you the truth, this has knocked me for six. I would never have said that Aggie was a bold girl, but this is as bold as it gets.’

McAllister nodded sagely in agreement and heat flowed through Tom at the unfairness of it all. One person noted Tom’s discomfort and his cheeks flushed crimson, and that was McAllister’s wife, Philomena. She remembered that the night that Aggie was reputed to have gone missing was the night that Bernie hadn’t sought his bed until the early hours. The following day she had found a large amount of money missing from the till.

It didn’t take much to put two and two together and her heart ached for she knew she was partly to blame. If she had left Bernie to his just deserts in Birmingham that time and come to Buncrana alone, she could bet that Aggie Sullivan would not have felt the need to flee the way she did, and her heart went out to the boy who so obviously missed his sister.

All morning, Tom festered over what McAllister had done and what he had said to his father. And then at dinner his mother referred to Aggie as ‘a viper in the nest’, and said that she was no longer a child of hers and no one was to mention her name in the house ever again.

‘Mammy, what are you saying?’ Tom gasped.

‘Is there a problem with your ears, Tom?’

‘No, but Mammy—’

‘It’s the only thing to do, caddie. This is the only way that I can cope with it.’

Tom noted the deep lines on his mother’s face, her eyes puzzled and confused, while his father’s was just a mask of sadness. He felt for both of them. ‘I know, Mammy,’ he nodded. ‘I am not blaming you, but it will be hard for me to forget Aggie ever existed.’

‘Well, you must try, lad,’ Biddy said sharply. ‘And that goes for all of you,’ she added, glaring at her family as they sat staring at her. ‘She has run away from this family to God knows where, so therefore she no longer deserves to be part of it. Her name is never to be mentioned again and it’s no good looking over our shoulders all the days of our lives expecting her to come in at the door.’

Tom knew she would never do that, but he could hardly bear it. The sister he had known all his life was gone forever. He knew if he allowed himself to dwell on that thought, the tears would start in his eyes and that would never do. No one said a word, not even his father. They sat in stunned silence, even little Finn, who had picked up the charged atmosphere. But then, in God’s truth, knowing as little as they did, what was there to say?

Suddenly, the Sunday dinner that Tom looked forward to all week tasted like sawdust, and he pushed his plate away, leaving the food half eaten. His mother hated waste and, normally, would have given out to him, but that day she took his plate away without a word.

‘Daddy, would you mind if I took a wee walk out?’

It was an unusual request. Tom had scant free time and even on Sunday there were jobs aplenty for him to do. However, Thomas John knew that the knot of worry he had for his daughter was shared by Tom and so he said gently, ‘Aye, Tom. See if the fresh air can help you any.’

Outside, the day was overcast and there was a hint of moisture in the air. Tom saw not another soul out and about like himself, though he went nearly as far as the town.

Philomena saw him standing on the hill above the shop. Her heart went out to him and she suddenly thought she had to talk to the dejected boy, try to help him in some way. Calling to her elder two children to mind the others for a while, she followed him.

Tom was glad he met no one because he knew he would be poor company that day. What McAllister had done filled his mind. As if abusing and raping his sister and causing her to flee from her home were not enough, he had had the barefaced cheek to commiserate with his father that morning. ‘One heart you can be sure of,’ he’d said. That man’s heart would be as black as pitch, Tom thought.

And then, as if his thought had conjured him up, he saw McAllister riding down the country lane below him. He knew he was bound for the O’Learys’ cottage, whose farm abutted the Sullivans’. Tim O’Leary told him that morning at Mass that he had a fiddle lesson with McAllister that afternoon. Tom had thought at the time that he was glad he had given up the music.

After the attack on Aggie and the house laid low with measles, McAllister wasn’t that keen on visiting. When everyone was better, Tom had declared that he didn’t want to continue with the music lessons. Thomas John, weakened by the measles, was quite glad of this at the time and Joe gave up too, but then he had never been as keen, or as good at it as Tom.

Tom was just glad that the man had no occasion to come to the house any more. He couldn’t have borne it. But others, being unaware of what McAllister was capable of, treated him as they always had. Tom imagined him being fêted and praised at the O’Leary house, for the O’Learys, like most people in the town, thought McAllister a grand chap.

No really knowing why, Tom descended to the lane and walked the route McAllister had taken, with no plan in his head until he came to trees on either side of the road followed almost immediately by a left-hand fork. An idea began to take shape. If he were to stretch a rope of some sort between the trees, McAllister wouldn’t see it until he was virtually on top of it and neither would the horse. Tom felt that he would have struck a blow for Aggie if he were to injure the man in some way. He tore home as fast as he could, to find a suitable line.

Philomena watched him go and wondered what had sent him home in such haste. She hadn’t long to find out, for the Sullivans’ place was no distance across the fields. Though Tom proceeded stealthily, once he got near the farm all was quiet. He knew the bale of metal twine they used for mending fences was in the barn and he chopped a sizeable bit from the bale with the axe before heading back.

Philomena saw immediately what Tom was about and went down to stop him. She reached him as he was tying the last knot to the second tree. He was startled and frightened when he saw Philomena but she set out to reassure him.

‘Don’t worry, Tom. I know what you are trying to do and why, and though I understand, this isn’t the way.’

‘You don’t know what he has done.’

‘I can have a good guess,’ Philomena said. ‘Is this something to do with your sister’s disappearance?’

Tom stared at her, his mouth agape, more unnerved than ever. Then in a horrified voice, little more than a whisper, he said, ‘How did you know?’

‘I didn’t,’ Philomena said. ‘That is, well, I knew he had a fancy for her, but I didn’t think, never dreamed … Tom, is she expecting his baby?’

Tom nodded miserably, knowing there was no longer any need to deny it, to Philomena at least.

‘And do you know where she has gone?’

‘To Birmingham, to his sister.’

‘Where she will get rid of it?’

‘That was the plan,’ Tom said. ‘None of this was Aggie’s fault, you know. He had her filled full of poteen. She could barely stand when she came home. God knows how she had got so far. She was in a state and he had the dress near ripped from her back.’

‘Was that the night your mother was helping out at Sadie Lannigan’s?’ Philomena asked.

‘Aye, and my father was in Buncrana,’ Tom said. ‘You may be sure that this would have come out long ago if either or both of them had been in. It’s a wonder he didn’t think of that.’

‘He thinks of nothing but satisfying his desires when he is that way inclined, if you know what I mean,’ Philomena commented glumly. ‘I know that to my own cost. He never thinks of the consequences of his actions.’

‘Aggie would have done all in her power to keep what happened that night a secret, anyway,’ Tom said, ‘if she could have. I mean, if she hadn’t been expecting.’

‘Aye,’ Philomena agreed with a grim smile, ‘pregnancy is one thing that no one can hide for long.’

‘He told her he would say she came on to him, offering it on a plate, as it were. Aggie thought everyone, even possibly our own parents, would believe him over her.’

‘Poor girl,’ Philomena said with feeling. ‘And the devil of it is she is right. The man is usually believed first in any case, and Bernie can be charming when he wants. I mean, I fell for his charm and I am not a stupid woman. He has this ability to make people think he’s just such a grand man altogether.’

‘I know,’ Tom said. ‘And it’s all bloody false. You should see how he went on to my father this morning.’

‘I did, and I saw your reaction. Then I knew my earlier misgivings were right,’ Philomena said. ‘And that is why I followed you and came to try and stop you.’

‘Why?’ Tom demanded. ‘He is worth nothing.’

‘You’re right,’ Philomena said, ‘and I tell you now that he if was on fire in the gutter I wouldn’t spit on him. I do agree that he needs teaching a lesson, but not by you. I don’t want you getting into trouble.’

‘I won’t unless I’m caught. Or you tell on me.’

‘Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said?’ Philomena replied. ‘I would never tell on you. I hate the man and wish to God he was not the father of my children and that I was not married to him for the rest of my life, but I am and that’s that. But honest to God, Tom, haven’t your family suffered enough?’

‘Aye, but—’

‘Think,’ Philomena reasoned. ‘If it is found that you did this in a bid to hurt my husband, questions will be asked and then you risk exposing your sister. He will delight in dragging her name and that of your whole family through the mud. I know just how vindictive he can be and I know he would see to it that you would never be able to lift your heads up again.’

Tom realised that he hadn’t thought the whole thing through enough. He was starting to untie the first knot when he heard the drumming of horse’s hoofs approaching fast up the lane.

‘Come on,’ said Philomena. ‘We’ll just have to hope for the best. I pray to God it is Bernie galloping this way and not some other poor innocent soul going about their lawful business.’

Oh Almighty Christ, thought Tom. That was another thing he hadn’t considered. He allowed Philomena to draw him into the shelter of the trees and his sigh of relief was audible when it was McAllister who came into view seconds later.

The overcast skies had turned the afternoon to dusk and it had begun to rain. Visibility was bad and McAllister was riding far too fast. He had his head down as he careered round the corner, thumping his legs into the horse’s sides to make him go faster still. The horse ran into the wire at speed. It hit it above the knees and with a scream it stopped dead and dropped to the floor. McAllister didn’t have a chance to save himself. He sailed through the air over the horse’s head and landed heavily. Both woman and boy heard the thud as he hit his head on the knoll of a tree and then lay still.

Tom’s heart was in his mouth. He had no intention of seriously injuring McAllister. He would have run to see if the man was all right, but Philomena forestalled him.

‘Leave him to me,’ she said. ‘Untie the rope and hide it. It wouldn’t do for anyone to think this is anything other than an accident.’

Before Philomena went to her husband, though, she caught the horse, who had struggled to its feet, and examined its bruised and battered knees.

‘Poor feller,’ she said. ‘I’ll see to those when I get you home,’ and she tied the horse loosely to a tree before turning to her husband. There was no need to rush, because she knew by the strange angle of his neck that the man was dead.

She knew she was wicked but all she could feel at that moment was relief – relief and thankfulness. Oh, she’d play the part of the grieving widow, all right, for the benefit of the townsfolk, and pray for the repose of her husband’s blackened soul, for if anyone needed prayers he did. But she was free of him and she could have danced a jig.

However, paramount in her mind at that time was protecting the young boy from the consequences of what he had done, and that meant clearing up all the evidence.

‘How is he?’ Tom asked then, coming towards her as he wrapped the twine around his arm.

‘I’m afraid, Tom, he is dead.’

The blood in Tom’s veins suddenly ran like ice and his teeth chattered with fear as he stared from the prone figure to Philomena. ‘Are you sure? Maybe he is just knocked out.’

‘Tom, his neck is broken.’

‘Oh Jesus, Philomena, I never meant that.’

‘I know, but if we are both to get away with this then we must keep our heads.’

Tom could hardly believe his ears. ‘You mean you’re not going to call the Garda and tell them what I did?’

‘Not a bit of it. What purpose would that serve? As I see it, you have done me a favour. Bernie had it coming to him. He couldn’t have gone on the way he was and not expected some retribution to fall his way eventually. Aggie is not the first to have her life damaged and destroyed by my husband and, God help me, I can’t feel sorry for the death of a man like that.’

‘D’you think it will be believed that he died by accident?’

‘Yes, if we are clever about this,’ Philomena said. ‘I will say the horse made his way back to the stable without the rider and with bruised and bloodied knees. Fortunately, the knees are damaged enough so that the mark of the twine won’t even be seen.’

‘I’m sorry about the horse.’

‘So am I,’ Philomena said, ‘but I’ll see to him and he’ll be grand. But make sure you hide that twine well.’

‘I will.’

‘Now be off,’ Philomena said. ‘It would never do for someone to be along the road and catch sight of Bernie, and me not even home with the horse.’

Tom needed no further bidding and he scampered off, stopping only to throw the twine to the bottom of the well. He didn’t care either that his parents both gave out to him for being so long away and getting his good Sunday clothes so wet because that was familiar and safe. He went into the room, changed to his everyday things and followed his father to the cowshed without a word.

Philomena also took care to change her clothes and footwear, and recoiled her dampened hair into a tighter bun before informing the Garda that her husband was missing. There was no need for them to be suspicious, or to disbelieve anything Philomena McAllister told them. She was known as a respectable woman of the parish and community. When she showed them the damaged knees of the horse, they were very worried indeed and set up a search of the area immediately.

The body was soon found. The priest was sent for and the whole town alerted to the fate of Bernie McAllister, who died when he was thrown from his horse.