A Daughter's Secret (19 page)

‘Christ,’ Susie breathed.

‘I just don’t know what possessed her to come round like that,’ Levingstone said. ‘I’ve told her I don’t want her walking the streets on her own.’

‘She was excited about her wedding and that,’ Susie said. ‘Who wouldn’t be in her position? Like a dog with two tails, she was, and wanted someone
to talk it over with, that was all. It’s worrying, though, that she ain’t come home.’

‘Anything could have happened her,’ Levingstone said.

‘Have you thought of informing the rozzers?’ Susie asked.

Levingstone avoided the police as much as possible, as did the prostitutes. ‘No, not yet,’ he said.

‘You are going to, though, ain’t you?’ Susie insisted. ‘You’ll have to.’

‘I know,’ Levingstone sighed. ‘I tell you, Susie, if anything terrible has happened to Aggie, I will no longer want to live.’

Susie caught sight in the lamplight of the devastated look on Levingstone’s ashen face and thought wistfully: if just once in my whole life a man had loved me so wholeheartedly, I’d have thought I had died and gone to Heaven. What she said was, ‘Come on, Mr Levingstone. Don’t go thinking the worst straight off. I’d advise you to go home. She might be there by now and if she ain’t, well, that’s time enough to worry about it and get the coppers in.’

Levingstone knew that Susie spoke sense, and he couldn’t think of anything else he could do anyway, so with the cries of the prostitutes ringing in his ears, the coachman thankfully turned the cab for home.

Bob Tyler, the club doorman, stepping outside for a walk and a smoke before the doors were opened
officially, saw the crumpled shape on the ground as soon as he turned the corner. He threw his cigarette to the ground and hurried closer to see who it was. When he realised the person was Aggie, the shock was so great it was a wonder he was not rendered senseless on the ground alongside her.

She was naked with just a coat covering her shoulders, and he pulled it around her for modesty while he put his fingers on her neck to check for a pulse. He was mightily relieved when he found one, for he had never seen a person so badly battered.

For a moment Bob wasn’t clear what to do. Should he fetch a woman from the house? But he would hesitate to leave Aggie in this state. Anyway, he reasoned, a woman would hardly be able to lift her. Surely it was better to get her indoors as soon as possible. When he put a hand on her, though, Aggie shrank from him, though her eyes remained closed.

‘Don’t you fret, Aggie,’ he said softly. ‘You’re home now, and safe. We will have you nice and comfortable as soon as we can.’ And he lifted her as gently as he could.

Bob wondered what Levingstone would do when he saw what some vicious thug or thugs had done to his Aggie. He knew he would not rest until he found out who her attacker was, and he wouldn’t blame him if he tore the heart from the man, for every bit of poor Aggie was bruised or bleeding.
Anyone who could beat a defenceless woman so badly didn’t deserve to live. He felt a wave of compassion flow over him at what Aggie must have suffered and how frightened she must have been.

‘Mother of God, what has happened?’ Jane asked as she opened the door to Bob’s frantic knocking.

‘We can go into what happened to her later,’ Bob said. ‘Run up and turn the bed down, there’s a good girl.’

But when Bob laid her on the bed and said to Jane, ‘Will I help you get her coat off?’ Jane shook her head.

‘You can’t do that,’ she said. ‘You’re a man.’

‘I’ve just carried her in.’

‘Even so,’ Jane said firmly, ‘it wouldn’t be seemly. I’ll get Cook to help me; you would be better employed fetching the doctor.’

‘You don’t think we should wait for Levingstone to get back?’

‘No,’ Jane said, ‘I think that he would want us to use our common sense and do the best we can for Aggie. That girl needs a doctor, and quickly, I would say.’

Bob couldn’t disagree with that, but Jane hadn’t finished. ‘And when you have done that, then wait outside for the master and try and prepare him in some way, if there is any way in the world to prepare anyone for such a sight.’

And Aggie was a sight. The fronts of her legs were lacerated, and her hands, and the rest of her
was a mass of swelling bruises. The skin from her shoulders had been ripped off. Her bloated face, though, almost defied description. Both lips were split open and the blooded nose was a very odd shape. Around her eyes, blackened with bruising, was so swollen the eyes themselves were mere slits.

‘God, the master will go off his head when he sees her like this,’ Bessie said brokenly, weeping as she helped Jane bathe Aggie tenderly with warm water. ‘He thinks the bloody world of her.’

‘I know,’ Jane said, dabbing at her eyes. ‘It’s lovely to see them together.’

‘And now some bloody bastard tries to do her in.’

‘Poor, poor Aggie.’

‘Aye, and poor Mr Levingstone,’ the cook said. ‘He’ll never manage without her.’

The doctor was already in the room and examining Aggie when Levingstone burst through the door, having been told what had happened by Bob. He approached the bed almost cautiously, and then the doctor had to steady him as he looked at his beloved Aggie’s face. The doctor wasn’t surprised, for he had been similarly stunned by the injuries. And then he saw the deep sorrow in Levingstone’s eyes replaced by the white heat of anger, and knew he intended to find and kill the man who had done this.

The doctor bandaged Aggie’s face so that only the slits of eyes were left uncovered. She didn’t
regain consciousness, nor did she move when the doctor bandaged the lacerations on her hands and legs.

‘Believe me, I understand how deeply upset and shocked you were,’ the doctor said to Levingstone as he closed up his bag. ‘In all my professional life I have never seen a person beaten so badly. Any ideas who it was did this?’

‘No,’ Levingstone said through gritted teeth, ‘but I intend to find out.’

‘Are you informing the police?’

Levingstone shook his head. ‘No police.’

‘Alan, you might be the one in trouble if you deal with this yourself.’

‘That is not your concern,’ Levingstone snapped. ‘You just look after Agnes.’

The doctor shrugged. Maybe he would feel the same if one of his own loved ones was attacked in such a vicious manner. And there was no doubt that Levingstone truly loved his Agnes. His love seemed to seep from the very pores of his skin.

Levingstone was actually in acute pain, affecting all of his body as if his nerve endings were exposed, and his suffering was apparent to everyone in the room.

Even the doctor knew it was no good telling Levingstone to pull himself together, as he had done to other worried men, for he was past hearing that. His haunted, saddened eyes worried him, and he would have been happier if Levingstone had agreed to accept some powders to calm him a little
and enable him to sleep, but he would have none of it.

‘Have you given some of that stuff to Agnes?’ he asked.

‘No,’ the doctor said. ‘She was found in that unconscious state. But don’t worry about that, not just yet anyway. That’s the mind closing down so that the body can heal. Probably the pain was too much to bear. She will come round in her own good time, I’m sure, and for the moment she needs full-time care.’

Levingstone gave a brief nod. ‘I’ll see to it.’

‘He will never survive this if she doesn’t make it,’ the doctor remarked to Jane as she showed him out.

Jane was shocked. The thought that Aggie wouldn’t pull through had not occurred to her. ‘D’you think she might not?’

‘Who knows? Maybe she hasn’t the stamina or will to fight such an attack. She is a very sick young woman at the moment, I know that. I have done all I can and now the next twenty-four hours are crucial. Send for me, if you are worried – about either of them, mind. Levingstone won’t have anything yet, but he might be glad of it before he is much older.’

‘Yes, Doctor,’ Jane said, and returned to the room of sadness and sorrow.

Levingstone couldn’t seem to sit still. One minute he was ranting and raving, promising that he would find who did this to Aggie and tear them to shreds,
beat them to pulp. The next minute he was kneeling by Aggie’s bed and promising her the earth if she would just recover from this, pleading and beseeching her. The sight was so moving that both Jane and Bessie felt tears sting their eyes.

The knock at the door took them all by surprise and Jane went to answer it. She knew straight away who the woman was. She was a street woman, and Jane wrinkled her nose in disgust. She knew that Levingstone ran houses for the street women – everyone knew – but never in all the time she had worked in the house had one of those women come to the door, so she could sort of forget about that side of things.

She’d never associated with the girls in the club either, except Aggie, though she considered what they did a tad more respectable than trawling the streets looking for men.

Lily saw the lift of Jane’s chin, but she was too worried about Aggie to take Jane to task.

‘I’ve come about Aggie,’ she said. ‘My mate Susie told me she was missing, like, and I come straight up. Has she got home yet?’

‘Yes,’ said Jane. ‘She’s back, but…’

‘What is it?’ Lily asked urgently, seeing the look on Jane’s face. ‘Is she all right?’

‘No,’ Jane said. ‘She’s far from well. She has been beaten up.’

‘Beaten up! Dear Christ! Do they know who by, what for, or anything?’

‘No,’ Jane said. ‘Maybe you’d better speak to Mr Levingstone.’

‘Oh, is he here?’

‘Yes,’ said Jane. ‘What name shall I say?’

‘Lily.’

Jane had never expected to see Mr Levingstone so pleased to hear that one of his street women was in his own private quarters. As soon as she mentioned the name, he was up from the chair, while she took his place by the bed.

‘Oh, Lily,’ he cried, almost in relief.

Lily knew she was looking at a man in torment, his face grey and drawn.

‘Your maid that let me in said Aggie was beaten up,’ she said.

‘That’s right.’

‘It must have been as she was making her way from our place.’

‘I suppose. I know so little.’

‘I blame myself,’ Lily said. ‘I should have insisted she used the tram.’

‘Can’t everyone be wise after the event?’ Levingstone said. ‘You’re not to blame for this, Lily.’

‘Can I see her?’

‘Of course. But she is unconscious and she is also heavily bandaged.’

Afterwards, Lily was glad that Levingstone had warned her about this and so she was able to hide her shock. Levingstone had dismissed Jane so there were just the two of them in the room. Lily said, ‘God, that must have been some beating she took.’

‘It was,’ Levingstone said. ‘The doctor said he had never seen anything like it. His voice says she’ll recover, but his eyes say different.’

‘Nonsense!’ Lily declared emphatically. ‘He doesn’t know the girl like I do. She might look like a strip of wind, but she has got guts. She is a fighter. I didn’t drag her from the jaws of death fifteen years ago just to let her succumb to this now.’

And then Alan remembered the little girl who had shared Lily’s room for weeks after she had found her half dead and pregnant in the street. The little strip of a thing who had danced for him and taken away a piece of his heart. Now she had it all and he wouldn’t, couldn’t lose her. Life would have no meaning if he didn’t have Agnes by his side to share it with him.

‘Would you do it again?’ he asked. ‘Nurse Agnes, I mean. I will see that you don’t lose by it. Agnes cannot be left. Jane can’t do it all and I don’t want to engage someone that Agnes won’t know and might feel nervous of.’

Lily thought about it and knew she would like to do that. She thought a great deal of Aggie, and so she said to Levingstone, ‘I will do it on one condition.’

‘And what is that?’

‘That you talk to that young girl who opened the door to me,’ Lily said. ‘Tell her I’m not some slug to be ground beneath her feet. I plainly saw the look of disgust in her eyes and the way her
lip curled and the nose that she had lifted into the air. I wish to be treated civil and spoke to civil and then I dare say we shall get along well enough.’

Levingstone gave a grim little smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Same old Lily. Don’t believe in pulling your punches. I will see to it that no one, absolutely no one, looks down on you in this house and I will start putting that right straight away.’

‘So be it,’ Lily said. ‘And between us we will get Aggie right. Just see if we don’t.’

On the Tuesday after Easter, the postman told Biddy of the insurrection that had begun in the GPO in Dublin the previous day.

‘Surely not,’ Thomas John said, when Biddy told him after he and Tom and Joe came in for breakfast. ‘They would not be so stupid as to take on the might of the British Army.’

‘I don’t know so much,’ Joe said. ‘There are plenty of stupid fellows in that Irish Republican Brotherhood, or whatever they call themselves these days. That’s what people say, anyway. Some fellows were talking about it only last Saturday. They seem to think that England has her hands full fighting Germany.’

‘Oh, aye,’ Thomas John commented drily. ‘So they expect them to wave good-naturedly when this motley bunch takes charge, do they? Jesus, Connolly and Pearse are leading them to be slaughtered, and what will they gain? Bugger all, that’s what.’

‘Who really cares about what is happening in Dublin anyway?’ Joe said.

Thomas John rounded on him immediately. ‘Well, you should, for a start,’ he snapped. ‘All of us should care what is happening in our own country. Someone of us must go to Buncrana and buy a paper.’

In the end, Tom went in on the old horse. When he got home, regardless of the jobs awaiting attention on the farm, Thomas John spread the paper on the table.

‘Just a thousand of them,’ he said in disgust. ‘What on earth can they hope to achieve?’

‘They have both sides of the Liffey covered, though,’ Joe put in, impressed despite himself. ‘And taken over the GPO in Sackville Street like the postman was after telling Mammy.’

‘Hoisted up the tricolour flag too,’ Tom said.

‘And the other one,’ Joe said, pointing to the picture. ‘Paper says it has a green banner and has a golden harp and “Irish Republic” written on it.’

‘It might be ill-timed, stupid or whatever you want to call it, Daddy,’ Tom said, ‘but isn’t it a fine sight to see the tricolour flying in Ireland again?’

‘Aye, it is, son,’ Thomas John said rather sadly. ‘And take joy in it, because it won’t flutter there for long. It wouldn’t hurt to get a paper each day and keep abreast of things.’

Britain’s response was immediate. Thousands of troops arrived in Dublin. Field guns were
installed and by Wednesday a gunship had sailed up the Liffey and begun shelling the place to bits. Dublin was burning. Few supplies were getting through as the rebels had control of the railway stations, and those shops not shelled or burned to the ground were closed up. The Dublin people were starving, and looting became commonplace, despite the army shooting anything that moved.

‘What did they expect?’ Thomas John said. ‘It’s their own people that these bloody rebels are hurting. And in the end it will be for nothing. You’ll see.’

He was right. By Saturday it was all over and the rebels marched off to Kilmainham Gaol – apart from de Valera, who had an American passport and was taken to Richmond Barracks.

The speed of the execution of the leaders of the insurrection shocked the nation. De Valera’s passport saved his life, but the others were given very brief court martials, the outcome a foregone conclusion. With no process of appeal, the first leaders, Pearse, Clark and MacDonagh, were shot in the stone breaker’s yard in Kilmainham Gaol on 3 May, and the others in the following days. The flame of the mini rebellion, which had burned brightly for six days, had been successfully snuffed out.

In the middle of all this, Tom received an impassioned letter from Finn. He mentioned not one
word about the uprising, which Tom had written and told him about. He was interested in matters much nearer his heart and said that the whole company was on the move. No one knew where and he was heartbroken at leaving behind his beloved Gabriella, the French girl he had met and he fancied himself in love with.

Tom wrote back in conciliatory tone, though he wasn’t too worried about his brother’s predicament. He was sure Finn would soon get over the loss of Gabriella. Someone else would no doubt take her place because it was likely that he would fall in love many times before wanting to settle down.

No one in the Levingstone household was the least bit interested in the insurrection in Ireland either, and even the events of the war just skimmed the surface. All their energies and their thoughts centred on Aggie’s recovery. Thirty-six hours after the doctor had first examined her, he called again and said that as she had hung on so long, she probably would make it.

This was good news, there was no denying it, and yet Aggie still lay like a stone. The doctor couldn’t say whether or not she would ever recover totally. Seeing Aggie comatose and unresponsive every day, Lily too had her doubts, so when Aggie opened her eyes the evening of the day she should have been married, Lily, sitting with her at the time, was terribly pleased, even though she shut
them again almost immediately and there was no further movement.

‘It is the very first sign of any improvement at all,’ she told Levingstone later. ‘I think we have to expect it to be a long time till Aggie recovers totally from this. Mind you, we will need to get some food into her soon. She was thin as a lath before this, and if she goes much longer without sustenance, she will be just skin and bone and not fit to fight anything.’

The doctor said much the same two days later when he called to take the bandages off and see how the skin was healing underneath. Lily was helping him when Aggie’s eyes opened again, though there was no recognition and they were vacant as they watched the doctor almost fearfully.

‘I have left her mouth exposed now,’ he told Lily and Jane later. ‘It is still a bit swollen and tender, but the loose teeth have bedded down nicely. Maybe in a day or so you can encourage her to try drinking through a straw.’

Lily and Jane agreed with that, but Aggie still slept most of the time, and it was two days before Lily was able to encourage her to take a little milk. That time when Aggie opened her eyes, the swelling was slightly reduced, and Lily saw immediately that the blank look had gone and that Aggie knew who she was.

‘Hello, bab,’ she said. ‘Christ, you gave us a bleeding scare, you did.’

Aggie didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure she could, for though she had tried moving her tongue about her mouth, it hurt her too much to do more than that. Anyway, she didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to do anything, because it was too much effort and she was so tired.

Lily saw her eyes glazing over and closing. She said quickly, ‘Will you take a wee drop of milk to please me?’

Aggie looked at Lily as if she hadn’t heard right. ‘I mean through a straw,’ Lily explained. ‘I’ll help you.’ And then, as there was no response, she urged, ‘just a wee drop, half a cup.’

Aggie wasn’t keen on taking anything, her mouth felt too sore, but to please Lily she allowed her to lift her head and place the straw between her swollen lips. The liquid made her mouth throb, and her head, lifted from the pillow, began to pound, but she saw that Lily was ridiculously pleased with the relatively small amount that she had taken.

Aggie wished that she could go to sleep and never wake up again. She was more afraid than she had ever been in her life, and when she was awake she relived every moment of that attack and knew she would never have the courage to go out alone again. How easy it would have been just to slip away in her sleep and never have a worry or care in the world any more.

But then Alan would be sitting by her bed, holding her bandaged hand in his own as if he
were willing strength into her limbs, the love light shining in his deep brown eyes. His soft voice would soothe her soul and he urged her to get better soon, telling her over and over how much he loved her. Then she thought she couldn’t leave this wonderful man, who loved her with an abiding love that she knew would last a lifetime.

And because of that love, he could never learn the name of her attacker, because that would be too dangerous for him. When she began to talk again, she knew she must bury Finch’s name and never let it surface.

Later, Lily was to see that day as a breakthrough with Aggie, although that wasn’t apparent at first. The next day, Aggie took her milk without protest and the day after that she mumbled, ‘Thank you,’ as Lily lowered her onto the pillow. It was husky and indistinct, but it was a start. Aggie even felt the muscles in her face move at the delighted look in Lily’s face and knew she was trying to smile, a thing that she thought she would never do again.

‘Oh God, Aggie, that is the best sound I have heard in bloody years,’ Lily cried. ‘I would like to hug you to bits. I know I can’t, but you have made me one happy woman and you just wait till his nibs hears the news. He’ll be like a pig in muck.’

Aggie knew that he would be, and not least because he wanted to know what she remembered of the attack and preferably who it was that had beaten her so badly. Not that he had said one
word about it, but she had seen the speculative light in his eyes sometimes and knew what it meant.

He waited another week before asking Aggie anything. By then she was able to sit up in bed for her meals and the menu had become more varied as she was able to tolerate the spoon in her mouth, especially as she could hold the spoon herself, although the food still had to be puréed. She had also practised her speech and, though still not great at long conversations, her voice sounded more natural.

Aggie knew that Levingstone would ask her something that night. She had felt the unease in him even as he came into the room, as he did every night as soon as he came home. Then if someone was sitting with her they would leave, Levingstone would sit on the chair, take up one of her hands and kiss it gently.

Tonight, though, she read the trepidation in his eyes and she said gently, ‘What is it?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Something on your mind?’ Aggie said.

‘It’s just … well, I don’t want to upset you.’

Aggie took pity on him, but said, ‘I can’t help you.’

‘You saw nothing?’

‘I was jumped from behind, dragged into the entry. It was dark.’

She saw Levinstone’s face redden with rage and his hands ball into fists as he said, ‘I am so angry at what you have suffered at the hands of some
bloody pervert. If I had the man before me this minute, then I would kill him with my bare hands.’

Aggie knew he meant every word. She put her hand on his arm and pleaded, ‘Let’s put this behind us.’

There was nothing else they could do, but Levingstone was frustrated that he was not able to avenge the damage, hurt and degradation inflicted on the woman he loved more than life itself.

As for Aggie, she was content to watch the early summer unfold in the dusty Birmingham streets from her bedroom window, where she felt safe. May gave way to June and she began to get up each day, but at first she tired easily, and Lily insisted that she rested every afternoon. She looked forward to her wedding, which had been rescheduled for late June, when she imagined she would be fully recovered.

Pleased though Lily was at Aggie’s progress, she wished that they knew the identity of Aggie’s assailant. She was more persistent in questioning Aggie about it than Levingstone because she had a concern for the women on the streets.

One evening in mid-June, she said to Aggie, ‘Maybe you should have had the police in at the beginning. I know that Alan don’t like them – well, who in their right mind does? – but it might have helped, like.’

‘How d’you work that out?’

‘They could maybe have found out who did it.’

‘Even they need something to go on,’ Aggie said.

‘Yeah, but the coppers know the right questions to ask, don’t they?’ Lily said. ‘And they know the people into this kind of thing.’

‘It wouldn’t matter what questions they asked, or what people they know,’ Aggie protested. ‘I couldn’t identify anyone.’

‘Yeah, but, Aggie, you can’t have maniacs running the streets, attacking any they don’t like the look of,’ Lily cried. ‘All the street women are jumpy now it’s come out what happened to you. I saw a couple of them when I was out shopping yesterday and they told me some are afraid to go out. It’s their living, Aggie. As they said, no woman is safe.’

Aggie thought of all the women in the house that Lily shared with. She imagined how fearful they would be. She also remembered Levingstone saying that Lily could keep her own counsel if she was asked to and she made a decision she would regret for the rest of her life. She took Lily’s hands between her own and said, ‘Stop this, Lily. I know for a fact that the man who attacked me will not go on to do it to anyone else.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘Lily, I want your solemn promise that you will not repeat one word of what I am going to tell you to a living soul,’ Aggie said, ‘though you can tell the girls that their areas are as safe as they ever were, that the attack was personal to me and me alone.’

‘Oh God,’ Lily said, and the blood drained from her face. ‘It were Finch, weren’t it?’

‘Ssh,’ Aggie cautioned. ‘I don’t want Jane to hear.’

Jane didn’t hear, but someone else did. Levingstone had arrived home unexpectedly early. The hall was empty and he crossed to the bedroom quietly, intending to burst in and surprise both women. Instead, he was the one surprised. He stood with his hand on the doorknob and, as he listened he felt his body fill with fury.

‘Are you off out again, sir, and you just in?’ Jane said, coming into the hall as Levingstone was lifting his coat down from the hook.

‘Yes, I have to go out,’ Levingstone said. ‘There is someone I have to see.’

Levingstone had thought that it might be Finch when he first looked on Aggie’s bruised and battered body, but he had had no proof and, anyway, Aggie’s survival was the first priority. And then, when he was able to ask her, she said she didn’t know who it was. If it was Finch he knew she would be fully aware of it because she had had so many dealings with him over the years and she had always said there was a special smell emanating from him, a smell of evil and sheer wickedness.

He didn’t blame Aggie for keeping the name from him because he knew she was afraid he would get either hurt or in trouble or both. He didn’t care, nor did he care that Finch was twenty years
his junior. Now he knew the name of the man who had raped and nearly killed the woman he loved above all others, he couldn’t let him go unpunished.