by Sam Michaels
‘Is she yours?’
‘None of your business,’ Ruby answered, desperate to get away from her vile father.
‘She is, ain’t she? How old is she? About four, I’m guessing.’
Ruby went to sidestep her father, but he moved, once again blocking her path, saying, ‘Hang on a minute. I thought I’d kicked that bastard out of you, but it seems not. That makes her my child… you done well, girl, she’s a looker.’
‘She’s not yours. She’s not even mine. Just leave us alone,’ Ruby cried, and turned round to walk away. She’d only taken a few steps, when Georgina screamed, and Ruby felt the child yanked from her grip.
‘It’s no use denying it, Ruby. I ain’t silly, I know this girl is mine, and I’m taking her. I’ve got rights to her, so don’t bother trying to stop me.’
Ruby desperately grabbed at Georgina, but her father’s hold on her was firm.
‘Give her back!’ she yelled.
Her father was dismissive. ‘Huh, no chance.’ Then he ran down the street with Georgina screaming in his arms.
‘Someone stop him… HELP!’ Ruby shouted. ‘Stop that man! He has my child… Georgina… No, Dad… No.’
There was no-one in the street to help, just an old woman, and a few children playing. Curtains twitched, but doors remained shut. Ruby gave chase. She ran as fast as her legs would carry her. She could hear Georgina calling for her, but her dad was out of sight, and soon, as Ruby ran and ran, Georgina’s cries faded to silence.
12
As soon as Jack walked through his front door, he knew something was wrong. He could hear Ruby wailing and Georgina hadn’t run up to greet him. He rushed through to the front room, expecting to find something wrong with his mother, but was relieved to find her alive and well in her armchair. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked, taking in their mortified faces.
‘Ruby’s father has taken Georgina,’ Dulcie answered soberly.
Ruby began to cry harder.
‘What you on about? What do you mean, taken her?’ Jack asked. It didn’t make any sense in his head.
‘Ruby’s dad thinks Georgina is his child, and he’s run off with her.’
‘I’m so sorry, Jack… I tried to stop him,’ Ruby sobbed. ‘I really did… I ran after them… but, but…’
‘Shush, now,’ Dulcie said, and stroked Ruby’s hair. The girl was sat on the floor, obviously distraught, with her head in Dulcie’s lap.
Jack looked at his mother for some sort of clarification.
‘Ruby’s been to his house, but he doesn’t live there now, and we don’t know where he’s moved to. Jack, we must go to the police, immediately. The man’s a pervert.’
‘What? You’re telling me some fucking nonce has got my girl?’ Jack shouted as the enormity of the situation began to sink in.
‘Yes,’ Dulcie answered, and broke down in tears. ‘We’ve got to do something, Jack, before it’s too late. If we knew where to find him, I’d kill him myself, but we don’t. We have to go to the police.’
Ruby leapt to her feet and fled the room. She didn’t meet Jack’s eyes as she ran past him but kept repeating how sorry she was.
‘Fuck the police, they won’t be no help. I’ll find him myself, and when I get my hands on the filthy bastard, I’ll rip him to fucking pieces.’
‘How are you going to find him, when Ruby can’t? See sense, Son, please, let the police deal with it.’
Jack was raging. The thought of a dirty old man touching his precious daughter. ‘What’s his name?’
Dulcie blew her nose.
‘MUM… What’s his fucking name?’
‘Henderson. John Henderson.’
Jack ran out of the house. He didn’t know if he’d even closed the door behind him, but he heard his mother shouting out to him that if Henderson had touched Georgina, he should kill the bastard. Oh, he’d kill him all right! He’d chop his fucking nuts off first, but he’d definitely kill him.
*
Ruby had thrown herself face down on her bed and was sobbing uncontrollably. She was trying hard to block out the sickening images of what her father had done to her, knowing full well that he’d do the same to Georgina.
How could she have let this happen? The poor, beautiful girl was going to be horrifically violated and it was all her fault. Ruby could hardly breathe; her throat felt constricted as she imagined hearing Georgina’s desperate voice crying out for help. Ruby knew her father well. Georgina’s tears and pleas would further arouse the man.
She’d heard Jack leave, but even if Jack found him, it could be too late. Her father had probably already hurt Georgina. She rolled into a ball, and screamed, ‘No…’ The pain, the memories, the guilt. She felt so helpless. There had to be something she could do – she had to try.
Quickly jumping off her bed, Ruby hurried down the stairs, and out into the dark street. Though she’d already vainly searched high and low, she felt compelled to try again. She ran aimlessly, continually crying Georgina’s name, not even sure of where she was going. Tears spilled from her eyes, blurring her vision, and after a while, Ruby came to realise she was never going to find the girl in time.
Her father had destroyed her childhood, and now he was about to do the same to Georgina, the girl she loved as her own. It was too much. Ruby couldn’t bear it. Even if Jack did find them, she knew Georgina would never be the same again. Would Georgina ever forgive her? She’d never forgive herself. She was supposed to protect the child, yet she’d failed in the worst possible way.
Ruby came to stop breathlessly on Battersea Bridge and held on to the railing as she threw her head back and wailed like an injured animal. She knew she couldn’t save Georgina and hate filled her soul. She pictured herself sticking a knife into her father’s chest, then twisting and turning it, ripping out his unfeeling heart.
‘I’m so sorry, Georgina…’ she cried, and stood on tiptoe to look down at the dark gloom of the Thames below. The cold filthy water looked more inviting than living with the feeling of guilt and the wrenching in her heart. It didn’t take much effort to climb over to the other side of the Moorish-designed balustrades, and resigned, Ruby didn’t stop to reconsider.
In one move, she threw herself from the bridge. Her body felt limp as she plummeted towards the river. ‘I love you,’ she whispered, her last words, then felt the sting of the water’s surface as she smashed against it. As her sodden skirts began to drag her down, she could still feel Georgina’s pain and did nothing to try and save herself. The cold water stabbed at her like needles of fire and her lungs ached for air. In one last gasp, Ruby breathed in the Thames water. She coughed, choked, sucked more water into her lungs, then she knew nothing.
The tide took Ruby Henderson’s lifeless body. Her short life was over, and Georgina’s was soon to change forever.
13
Norman Wilcox looked at the clock on his mantel. It was teatime, and the hammering on his front door irritated him. It was probably one of Billy’s friends knocking for him to come out and play.
Jane came into the lounge looking anxious, and Norman couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw Jack Garrett behind her. ‘Get him out of here,’ he told his wife.
‘But, Norman, he needs help. You’ve got to listen to him,’ she said, glaring at him, and he knew that look. Fuck knows what Jack Garrett was doing in his house, but if he didn’t give the bloke the time of day, he’d be in trouble with Jane later. ‘All right. I’ll listen. Now leave us,’ he demanded and as she left the room closing the door behind her, he turned to Jack. ‘You’re either brave coming here or fucking stupid.’
‘Neither,’ Jack answered, ‘I’m desperate.’
‘What makes you think I’d help you with anything?’
‘Because I know you’ll do the right thing. You’ve got kids, a boy and a new baby girl.’
‘Don’t bring my kids into this. I hope you’re not trying to threaten me?’
‘No, nothing like that. Mr Wilcox, please, hear me out.’
‘Go on then, you’ve got one minute, then if you’re not out of my house, it’ll be more than your face that’s cut open.’
‘I need to find a man. John Henderson. He’s kidnapped my four-year-old daughter and I know for a fact that he’s a kiddy fiddler. He took her this afternoon, a few hours ago. I’ve got to get her back, before…’
Norman stood up, which made Jack flinch.
‘Come with me,’ Norman said. ‘Jane, I’m off out,’ he called.
Norman grabbed a crank from a console table in the hallway and handed it to Jack. He jumped behind the steering wheel of his car parked outside and told Jack to start the engine. Jack turned the crank a few times, and on the third attempt, the Morris Oxford engine fired up.
‘Get in,’ Norman said.
‘Where are we going?’
‘To get your daughter back,’ Norman answered.
Within minutes, he’d pulled up outside Hefty’s house and tooted his horn. Hefty came running out of his front door, pulling his coat on at the same time.
‘Where does John Henderson live?’
‘Up the road from your gaff on Livingstone Road,’ Hefty answered, looking quizzically at Jack.
‘Jack, jump in the back. Hefty, get in,’ Norman ordered.
Norman put his foot down on the accelerator. He realised there was no time to be wasted.
‘What do you want John for?’ Hefty asked.
‘He’s got Jack’s girl and we’re going to get her back.’
‘Right. Why’s he got Jack’s girl?’
‘Fucking hell, Hefty, are you really that thick? He’s a fucking weirdo, he likes them young, very young,’ Norman barked.
‘Sorry, boss. Can I kill him?’
‘Sure, if Jack doesn’t kill him first,’ Norman said with a snigger.
Norman didn’t care who killed the bloke, but he was being taken off the streets one way or another. He had his own girl to think about, and her safety. One less pervert about had to be a good thing.
*
‘That’s it, the one with the blue door,’ Hefty said, pointing to a mid-terrace house.
Norman pulled up, and all three men scrambled to get out of the car. Without saying a word, Hefty pulled his leg back and kicked the door. The frame splintered, and the door flew open with the first whack.
Jack entered the run-down house first and shouted for his daughter, while a middle-aged man and his wife came out of a room on the right. ‘What’s going on?’ the man asked.
‘John Henderson, where is he?’ Norman asked.
Jack waited with bated breath for the man to answer.
‘He lives upstairs.’
Jack flew up the stairs two at a time, to be faced with three doors. He pushed open the first one. It was empty. The second door was locked. ‘He’s in here,’ he said to Hefty.
Hefty used his massive legs again to bust open the door and Jack ran inside. He knew instantly that the stocky man with ginger hair sat at a table was John Henderson. ‘Where is she?’ he demanded.
John looked at each of the men filling his room, then spoke slowly, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Jack sprang forward and grabbed the man round his throat. ‘You fucking liar! I know you’ve got her… Where is she?’
John didn’t speak.
‘Tell me!’ Jack yelled.
Jack couldn’t see what was going on behind him, but Norman had opened a small wardrobe and called, ‘Jack, Jack!’
The urgency in Norman’s voice caused Jack to let go of John’s neck, and he turned to see Georgina curled in the bottom of the wardrobe. Her hands and feet were tied, and an old rag gagged her mouth. He could see her dark lashes glistening with tears, and a look of pure terror in her eyes. In three steps he was across the room, then worked frantically on undoing the knots that bound his daughter. ‘It’s all right, darling, Daddy’s here now.’
‘You see to her, Jack. Wait for us in the car. We’ll sort out Mr Henderson,’ Norman said.
Jack looked at Norman’s face, and saw sincerity. Once Georgina’s arms were free, she threw them around his neck, clinging to him like her life depended on it while whimpering in his ear. He noticed her undergarments were missing, and she had dried blood smeared on her thighs. Anger surged. He wanted to beat the man to pulp, but knew he had to get his daughter out of there. He walked towards the smashed-in door but turned to John with a look of hatred.
He wanted to remember the man’s face, for he knew by the time he’d reached Norman’s car, John Henderson would be dead.
Part 2
The rebirth of Georgina Garrett
14
April 1923. Four years later.
‘I wish you wouldn’t make Georgina look like a boy,’ Dulcie said for the umpteenth time. ‘She’s such a beautiful girl, but I’m sure all the neighbours think I’ve got a grandson.’
‘I don’t know how many times I’ve got to tell you, please stop calling her Georgina. Her name is George, end of discussion.’
Dulcie could tell her son was becoming irritated, so once again she dropped the subject.
She’d been so disappointed when Jack had brought Georgina home with her beautiful black hair clipped so short that Dulcie could see the girl’s scalp. He’d done it the day after John Henderson had kidnapped her, and on that same day, he’d thrown out all her little dresses and insisted that, from then on, she’d be known as George.
At the time, Dulcie could understand her son’s reaction. She didn’t blame him for wanting to protect his daughter and making her look like a boy seemed logical. But it was almost four years on, Georgina was nearly eight years old, yet still she was dressed in short trousers, a shirt and braces.
‘Are you taking her out with you again today?’ Dulcie asked.
‘Yes, and I suppose you’ve got something to say about that too?’
‘Granted, it’s a Saturday, but the rest of the week, she should be in school. She’s your daughter, I suppose, so you bring her up as you see fit.’
‘Exactly, Mum, she is my daughter, so I’d appreciate you winding your neck in. Anyway, you’ve taught her to read and write, so what bleedin’ use is school to her?’
Dulcie didn’t answer. She knew anything she said would be a waste of breath. Whatever had happened to Georgina the day she’d been abducted had changed the girl, and Jack too. Georgina had become quiet, withdrawn, and Jack was now quick to lose his temper. He’d often fly into a rage at the drop of a hat, and seeing his anger unnerved her. She couldn’t abide to see Georgina looking like a lad and out thieving with Jack, but she bit her tongue, fearful of triggering another of his outbursts. Though Mary knew better than to mention it, she guessed her neighbour must hear everything. It wouldn’t do for the woman to think that Dulcie had gone soft.
She heard her son slam the front door and sneaked a look through her net curtains. He had a pace on and little Georgina was trotting alongside to keep up with him. He threw a look over his shoulder back at the house and once again, Dulcie was reminded of the atrocious attack on him. Years had passed, yet she still hadn’t got used to his horrific scar. The poor boy had lost the sight in his left eye too, though it didn’t seem to affect him. Thank goodness Alfred had brought him home that day. Norman bloody Wilcox may have saved Georgina, and for that she was grateful, but she’d never forgive him for hurting her son.
*
Jack marched down the street, pleased to be away from his interfering mother. The old girl meant well, but she got on his nerves, always moaning and nagging about George. He’d never let another man hurt his daughter, and if it meant disguising her as a boy, then so be it.
‘Keep up,’ Jack shouted over his shoulder to George.
She picked up her pace until she was walking alongside him.
‘Where are we going today, Dad?’
‘There’s some toffs living up near the park, but I bet they’re all out lining the streets of London to get a glimpse of Albert and Elizabeth.’
‘What, are we going to watch the royal wedding too?’
‘Nah, don’t be daft. Why would we want to do something like that? No, we’re going to make the most of today.’
‘Aw, I’d have loved to have seen her wedding dress,’ George said glumly.
‘Bugger that, but if you do good today, I’ll let you go to the corner shop later and you can buy yourself some sweets.’
George beamed broadly up at her father, and Jack smiled back. He rarely allowed her to venture outside the house alone, but he knew it was time to give her some freedom.
Twenty minutes later, they were in a quiet tree-lined avenue of semi-detached houses with immaculately tiled front paths, and large, Edwardian bay windows.
‘Cor, it’s nice here,’ George commented, looking at the smart homes.
‘Bit too quiet for my liking,’ Jack said, though today that suited him fine. ‘Wait here and keep a look for any nosy neighbour curtain-twitching,’ he added, instructing George to stay behind one of the trees.
Next, Jack walked up the clean blue and white tiled pathway of one of the houses, and boldly rang the doorbell. As he’d hoped, nobody answered. He went back to Georgina and indicated for her to walk with him. ‘Did you see anything?’ he asked.
‘No, I reckon the whole bloody street must be up town today.’
‘Oi, language. Your gran would have your guts for garters if she heard you swearing. Right, round the back here,’ Jack said, then dashed into the narrow walkway between two of the homes.
He gave a leg-up to Georgina, who swiftly climbed over the back-garden fence then opened the sliding bolt on the gate for Jack to get in.
‘Well done,’ he said, ‘keep quiet.’
They cautiously approached the rear of the house. When Jack was sure there was no movement from within, he picked George up and lifted her towards the roof of the back porch. She was used to burgling with her dad and didn’t require instructions on what to do. With the strength of a boy twice her age, she pulled herself up onto the roof. She carefully edged her way over, then reached up to a small window.