by Kitty Neale
‘Come on, love, get in. This is my husband Adrian, and there’s no need to be afraid. We’re going to take you home to our place and you’ll be safe there.’
Adrian looked at Yvonne through the rear mirror, and, seeing the state she was in, he silently cursed his brother. Robbie had put the Ferguson name to shame when he had robbed a jeweller, and now he had dragged it further down into the mire. He cursed the day his brother had returned to Battersea.
Robbie returned from the pub after a Sunday lunchtime drink to find that Yvonne was gone. He’d told her to be ready by two-thirty, yet here he was, bang on time and she was nowhere to be seen.
He ran down the stairs and knocked on Cynthia’s door. ‘Have you seen Yvonne?’ he asked when Cynthia opened the door. ‘Is she here with you?’
‘No, Robbie, I haven’t seen her for a few days. Why, has she gone missing or something?’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Robbie said dismissively and ran back up the stairs to his room.
He looked around for some sort of clue, anything that could indicate where Yvonne was. It didn’t look as if anything was missing, so she couldn’t have gone far. It was Sunday, the shops were closed, and she had no friends or family to visit. Anger coursed through his veins. He had a punter due at any minute and the bitch had let him down.
Robbie paced the room, swearing under his breath, even more so when the punter arrived and he had to turn him away. He was losing money, and Robbie was determined to make Yvonne pay for that when she returned. His fists clenched. He’d make sure she never disobeyed him again.
Gradually Robbie’s anger subsided, and he began to worry that Yvonne might not be coming back. If she had gone for good, then so had his income, and he cursed as he took a roll-up from his tin. His matchbox was empty, but he knew Yvonne kept a box in the kitchen drawer by the new gas cooker. As he rummaged through it he saw a small clip-top purse and wondered where it had come from. Hoping it might contain a few bob he opened it, but only found a piece of tightly folded paper. Curious, he unfolded it and when he saw a telephone number, his blood ran cold. It was the number for his brother’s house, but there was only one person who could have given it to Yvonne. Furious, he snatched a saucepan from the top of the stove and threw it against the wall, yet it wasn’t enough to vent his anger. He knew where Yvonne was now. She was with Dorothy, his fucking goody-two-shoes so-called sister-in-law.
He stomped out of the room and took the stairs two at a time. He wouldn’t go around there today; Adrian would be home. No, he’d wait, have a few pints for now, but tomorrow he would get Yvonne back and ensure Dottie never stuck her uppity nose in his business again.
While Malcolm sat with Bill, Nelly took over in the kitchen. She propped her walking stick up, and, though her leg was weak and it wasn’t easy, she managed to finish off the dinner just as Dorothy and Adrian returned. She was surprised to see they had a young girl with them, but Dorothy hurriedly told her that explanations would have to wait for now and she would tell her everything once they were alone. The girl clung to Dorothy as Nelly dished up the food and then they all sat down to eat.
With a silent, nervous virtual stranger sitting with them, the atmosphere was a bit strained, and, though Nelly was eager to tell Dottie her news, she was hesitant.
‘Yvonne, would you like some cabbage?’ Dottie asked, holding a serving spoon and her hand hovering over the vegetable dish.
Nelly’s jaw dropped. She had heard that name before. Yvonne was the girl Dottie had once spoken about, the one that Robbie had put on the game. Why was she here? Nelly wanted to ask questions, but knew she would have to wait.
‘Here, Dottie, I think I may know why your dad’s chest is playing him up,’ Malcolm said. ‘I noticed that the fire in his sitting room smokes a bit so maybe the chimney needs sweeping.’
‘Thanks, Malcom, I’ll get onto it straight away,’ said Adrian.
‘My granddad used to suffer with bronchitis, but it improved when we stopped lighting a coal fire and got an electric one.’
‘That might be a good idea. What do you think, Dottie?’ Adrian asked.
Nelly saw that Dottie wasn’t really listening. Her eyes had spotted her engagement ring and she was grinning widely.
‘Nelly, you’re engaged!’ she squealed. ‘When did this happen and why didn’t you tell me?’
Nelly blushed. ‘Malcolm proposed last night.’
‘This calls for a celebration,’ said Adrian. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t got any champagne, but I think I’ve got a bottle of white wine.’
‘That’s all right. I’m not keen on champagne,’ Nelly told him.
‘How do you know you don’t like champagne?’
‘I had some last night, when Malcolm proposed.’
‘If you can afford champagne, Malcolm, I must be paying you too much,’ Adrian quipped.
‘It was from the manager,’ Nelly said quickly.
‘I’m only joking, my dear.’
When she tasted the wine, Nelly tried not to pull a face. It wasn’t nice and sweet like Babycham, but it was lovely to be toasted on their engagement.
‘Have you set a date for the wedding?’ Dottie asked.
‘Blimey, you’re as bad as my mother, and, as I told her, no, we haven’t. We’ve only just got engaged.’
Malcolm smiled fondly at her and Nelly’s heart soared. She knew she wasn’t an oil painting, and her figure left a lot to be desired, but she could see the love in his eyes. He looked at her in the same way she would often look at chocolate cake.
Yvonne was so quiet that it was hardly noticeable that she was there, Nelly thought. When the meal was over she helped Dottie to clear the table, and at last managed to talk to her alone.
‘What’s that girl doing here, Dottie?’ she whispered.
‘Yvonne has run away from Robbie and we’ve taken her in.’
Nelly was shocked. ‘Are you mad? What if Robbie finds out she’s here?’
‘What if he does? There’s nothing he can do. He can’t force Yvonne to go back.’
Nelly wasn’t so sure about that. She had a sinking feeling that there was trouble ahead and hoped that Dottie and Adrian wouldn’t live to regret taking the girl into their home.
Chapter 39
The following morning, Dorothy lightly tapped on the door of the bedroom which had once been Myra’s. ‘It’s only me. Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘Yes … yes, please,’ Yvonne called.
Dorothy went in and placed the cup and saucer on the bedside table. She could see from Yvonne’s puffy eyes that she had been crying. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked gently.
Yvonne nodded, but her eyes pooled with tears and Dottie’s heart went out to her. ‘Yvonne, I didn’t pry yesterday, but is there anything you want to talk about? Do you want to tell me what happened to make you change your mind about leaving Robbie?’
Yvonne pulled her thin legs to her chest and started chewing on her thumbnail. ‘It … it’s good of you to take me in, and … and thanks for lending me this nightie.’
It was obvious that Yvonne didn’t want to answer her questions, so Dottie left it for now. ‘You’re welcome, and as you didn’t bring any clothes with you, we’ll pop up to the Junction today and get you a few things.’
‘No … no … I don’t want Robbie to see me!’ Yvonne said as she violently shook her head.
‘It’s all right, we don’t have to go out if you don’t want to,’ Dorothy said soothingly. ‘I’ll sort out some of my clothes for you to wear for now, though they will probably be a bit big for you.’
‘Th-thank you.’
‘Robbie doesn’t own you and you can’t hide away for ever. You’ll have to face the big wide world again one day,’ Dorothy said firmly, thinking that she sounded like her mother with her no-nonsense attitude. ‘I’ll put some bread under the grill. Are you going to come downstairs for some breakfast?’
When Yvonne nodded, Dorothy stood up and said more kindly, ‘All right
, love, I’ll see you downstairs in a bit.’
‘He … he … he made me do bad things,’ Yvonne cried out.
Dorothy sat down again and pulled Yvonne into her arms. ‘It’s all right, love, don’t cry.’
‘He said if I didn’t do what he told me, he’d send some bad men to Clacton to beat up my mum and my sister,’ Yvonne cried. ‘And … and … he …’
Dorothy could feel the girl trembling in her arms and said soothingly, ‘It’s all right. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.’
‘I’ll tell you,’ Yvonne choked out. ‘When Robbie made me have sex with men, I didn’t like it, but it made him happy and … and he’s nice to me when he’s happy. But … but on Saturday night he … he … brought two men back with him. Robbie told me I had to do what they wanted and then he went to wait outside. I didn’t want to do it … it was nasty and I was scared. I said no, but … but they held me down …’ Yvonne’s body was wracked with sobs as she told Dorothy the sordid details. ‘It hurt … it hurt so much and I screamed for Robbie, but he didn’t come.’
Dorothy felt bile rise in her throat, but she had to hold herself together for Yvonne’s sake. The bastard, she thought: rape, beatings, prostitution – Robbie’s behaviour was so depraved that she wondered if she had ever really known him at all.
‘I’m so sorry this happened to you, Yvonne,’ she said. ‘Those men were sick, they raped you and shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it, nor should Robbie. I think you should report it to the police.’
‘No, please don’t make me,’ Yvonne cried in panic, and began to tug at her hair.
‘It’s all right. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, but what happened to you wasn’t your fault,’ Dorothy told her. She didn’t blame Yvonne for not wanting to report the rape. From what she’d heard, the police and the courts would make the poor girl feel more like the criminal than the victim.
‘Please, don’t tell Adrian, or … or anyone,’ Yvonne begged.
‘I won’t. I promise. Now, I know it won’t be easy, but it’s time to put this all behind you, and you won’t be able to do that while you’re lying in bed thinking about it. Come on, no more moping about, get yourself up for breakfast,’ Dorothy said firmly, once again thinking that she sounded just like her mother.
After breakfast Dorothy put the television on and Yvonne watched it, fascinated. Dorothy said the programme was called Mainly for Women, and though she didn’t really understand it, the pictures on the screen amazed her. The telephone rang in the hallway and the shrill sound made Yvonne jump.
‘It’s all right, it’ll only be Adrian,’ Dorothy said as she went to answer it.
Yvonne slumped with relief. She was still so scared – so frightened that Robbie would find her.
‘Yes, she’s fine,’ she heard Dorothy say. ‘OK, love, I’ll see you later.’
Dorothy walked back into the lounge. ‘Told you. Adrian always calls about this time, just to see if I’m OK.’
Yvonne found it nice. Nobody had ever cared for her that much, not even her own mum. Robbie said he did, but he had lied and he had let those men hurt her.
‘I need to pop out to the shops for a few bits,’ Dorothy said. ‘It’s all right, don’t look so worried. I won’t be long, but I’ll call in next door first to ask Mrs Hart if she can sit with my dad.’
‘I used to help my granny to look after my granddad. My mum couldn’t, she was too busy working at the flour mill,’ Yvonne answered, and beamed at the fuzzy feeling she got at the memory of her grandparents.
‘In that case, maybe you can keep an eye on my dad. Do you think you could manage to do that?’
‘Yes, it’ll be nice to sit with him,’ Yvonne said.
‘Right then, I won’t be long, but if anything happens, anything at all, call Adrian. I’ll write his number next to the telephone.’
‘You don’t have to. I’ve remembered it,’ Yvonne said proudly. ‘I saw a number on the pad by the telephone and it said Adrian’s office. I ain’t that good with reading and writing, but I always knows my numbers. Mum used to say I’m as useless as a chocolate teapot, but with a head like an abacus. That’s how I called you yesterday. I forgot the bit of paper, but I remembered the number.’
Yvonne wondered why Dorothy looked worried.
‘So you don’t have that bit of paper with you, the one I wrote my telephone number on?’ Dorothy asked.
‘No, I told you, I didn’t need it ’cos I remembered it,’ Yvonne said.
‘Did you throw it away then?’ Dorothy asked.
‘No, it’s in my purse in the kitchen. I thought it’d be safe there.’
‘I’m sure it is,’ Dorothy answered but Yvonne could tell there was something bothering the woman. She hoped she hadn’t done anything wrong as the last thing she wanted was to upset the lovely people who had come to her aid.
‘My dad should be fine, he’s had his breakfast, and he’s got his radio on, and, as I said, I won’t be long.’
Dorothy left and, after peeking in Bill’s room to see him dozing in his chair, Yvonne settled down to watch the telly again. Only about five minutes later, she heard someone hammering on the front door. Fearing it was Robbie, Yvonne huddled in the chair, but Dorothy had said she was safe here so maybe it wasn’t him. She tiptoed towards the window to sneak a look through the net curtains, but was stopped in her tracks when she heard Robbie’s voice shouting through the letterbox.
‘Open the door! I know you’re in there, Yvonne.’
Yvonne’s heart felt as if it was going to thump right out of her chest. Frozen to the spot, her mind raced. Maybe she could call Adrian, but the phone was in the hallway and Robbie would see her. If she kept as quiet as a mouse and as still as a statue, maybe he’d go away. She closed her eyes, hardly daring to breathe, but then heard his voice again, louder this time and full of venom.
‘If you don’t open this fucking door, I’ll break it down.’
Yvonne heard a thump from Dorothy’s father’s room and then a faint groan. Had the man fallen over? Her granddad had never done that and she didn’t know what to do. Yvonne remained standing in the same spot while minutes passed. Dorothy said that Mrs Hart had looked after her dad, so if Robbie had gone, maybe she could run to her house and fetch her. Bill groaned again and knowing that she had to do something, Yvonne crept into the hall and nervously opened the front door, just enough to peep her head through.
In that moment, Robbie pushed hard on the door and before she knew it, he was standing in the hallway in front of her, his eyes blazing with anger. ‘You thought you could do a runner, you stupid bitch, but you can’t get away from me that easy!’
Yvonne wanted to tell him to go away, to leave her alone, but fear gripped her as she backed herself up against the wall. ‘Go … go …’ she gasped.
‘No, and don’t bother calling for Dottie. I know she’s out, I saw her leave. It’s no good calling for the old man in the back room either. He doesn’t know his arse from his elbow so he won’t be able to help you.’
‘Pl-please, Robbie …’
‘Please Robbie what?’ he sneered. ‘Spit it out.’
‘I … I … don’t want to be your girl no more,’ Yvonne stuttered.
‘Well, that’s tough shit. The thing is, you owe me, Yvonne. All that new furniture, the fancy clothes, the rent money … it amounts to a fair few bob, so you’ll have to work for me until you’ve paid back every last penny. I’m not a charity, and if you don’t pay what’s owed, you’ll find I’m not a very nice man.’
Yvonne tried to make sense of what Robbie was saying. When he’d given her clothes and things, she didn’t know she had to pay for them. He hadn’t told her that. But now he wanted his money back, and she didn’t have any money. Robbie reached out and grasped her arm and, too scared to fight him, her body slumped in submission.
‘Good girl. Now let’s get you back home with no fuss,’ he said, leading her out to his car.
&
nbsp; Yvonne looked up and down the street, but there was no sign of Dorothy. She felt so lost, so alone, as Robbie shoved her into the passenger seat. Dorothy had said she was safe here, but she wasn’t, and now Robbie had come to take her away.
Chapter 40
Dorothy put her key in the front door and called out to Yvonne, ‘It’s only me,’ knowing how jumpy the girl was and hoping to reassure her. She walked straight through to the kitchen and unloaded her shopping before putting the kettle on the stove.
‘Would you like a drink, Yvonne?’ she called. ‘I’ve got us some nice fresh teacakes to go with it.’
That’s funny, she thought. She could hear the television, but Yvonne hadn’t answered. She walked through to the lounge and frowned at the sight of the empty room, so went to see if she was in with her father.
She found him sitting in his armchair, the newspaper he was looking at upside down, and, though it was still plugged in, the radio was lying on the floor. ‘Hello, Dad. What happened, did you knock the radio off the table?’
‘Man bang door.’
Dorothy was shocked to hear her dad’s voice, but his words chilled her. She called out to Yvonne again, but there was no reply and with a sinking heart she realised the man banging on the door must have been Robbie. He had come for Yvonne and, after seeing the terror on the girl’s face at the thought of bumping into him, Dorothy knew there was no way she’d have gone voluntarily. Robbie must have forced her, with violence or the threat of it.
Dorothy worried that her dad might have witnessed it and been scared or upset, though he appeared perfectly settled now. ‘Yes, Dad, a man banged on the door. Did you see him?’
Her dad had gone back into his own world and her question fell on deaf ears. It chilled her to think that he’d been left on his own, but he seemed fine. She worried about Yvonne though. She’d promised the girl a safe haven, and she couldn’t bear to think about what would happen to her now that she was back with Robbie.