The Girl from the Docklands Café

by June Tate

  ‘You bitch! You cost me my job!’

  Jessie, used to standing up to awkward men during her days in the cafe, glared at him.

  ‘What are you talking about? I don’t even know you!’

  ‘I’m Harry Briggs. You got me fired!’

  She immediately recognised the name and pushed him away. ‘I didn’t get you fired, you managed that all by yourself by stealing from your boss. I just happened to be the one who found you out!’

  ‘S’pose you think you’re clever, don’t you?’

  ‘No! But I think you were stupid! You had a good job, a position of trust, but you stole money from your employer, all through gambling. You didn’t consider your position, your employer – or your family!’

  The mention of his family enraged him and he caught her by the throat. ‘My wife hates me. She’s earning, but won’t give me a penny. I have to sleep on the sofa; the kids sleep with her in our bed.’

  ‘That’s no fault of mine,’ Jessie said with some difficulty as the hold on her throat was constricting her breathing.

  He leered at her. ‘No conjugal rights. That ain’t right. I reckon you owe me, lady.’

  He began to fumble with her clothes, letting go of her throat. Jessie quickly kneed him in the groin and, when he bent double in pain, she gave him a blow on the jaw with a terrific left hook that any man would have been proud of. As he writhed on the ground she leant over him.

  ‘Now you’ll also stand trial for assault because I’m reporting you to the police. You come anywhere near me again, you’ll pay dearly!’ She stalked off and crossed the road to the pub, rubbing her sore knuckles, leaving the man on the ground.

  Once inside the Builders Arms she phoned the police and reported the assault, but by the time they arrived, Harry Briggs had limped away.

  The pub landlord insisted she sit down and gave her a shot of brandy. Now the confrontation was over, the aftermath began to sink in. She’d been so angry with the man, she’d not given a moment’s notice to the danger she’d been in, but now she was shaken.

  A police officer came into the pub and asked her to go to the station in the morning and give a statement. He picked up her hand and saw the bruised knuckles.

  ‘Did you hit your assailant?’

  ‘Bloody right I did! He tried to lift up my skirt. No man gets away with that!’

  With a broad grin the policeman said, ‘Looking at those bruises, Mrs McGonigall, he got the worst of it.’ He paused. ‘Just make sure you lock your doors and windows when you go home. Best be on the safe side, in case we can’t find the man.’

  Jessie’s heart sank. She hadn’t considered she may still be in danger, but it was a possibility she accepted, remembering the rage of Briggs as he grabbed hold of her. Well, she’d be prepared. If he came to her home, she’d be ready! She had a shillelagh, a wooden cudgel she’d brought over with her from Ireland. She playfully used to tease Conor that she’d use it on him if he misbehaved. Well, if Harry Briggs came calling, he’d understand a bit more about her Irish heritage!

  After a disturbed night’s sleep, Jessie arrived at the office the following morning. Larry Forbes greeted her, but was surprised when Jessie said she’d have to go to the local police station later.

  ‘Whatever for?’ Then he saw the tense expression on her face. ‘Sit down and tell me what’s been going on.’

  She told him what had happened and he was furious.

  ‘Have the police picked him up?’

  ‘They hadn’t last night, as far as I know. They told me to lock my doors and windows, to be safe.’

  ‘Did he hurt you, Jessie?’

  ‘Not physically. But I’m afraid he can’t say the same.’

  Forbes looked at her and saw her trying to hide a smile. ‘What did you do to him?’

  ‘I kneed him in the groin, then I punched him on the jaw.’

  He put a hand across his mouth to try and stop laughing. ‘Oh, Jessie McGonigall, what a woman you are! However … no way are you sleeping in your house until this man is caught. I’m coming with you to the police station. Helen can run the office while we’re gone. Come along!’

  Jessie, to her surprise, was pleased Larry had taken it upon himself to accompany her. He was so very efficient and on their arrival he took over, questioning the constable on duty, asking if Briggs had been caught and frowning when told he was still at large. He waited for Jessie as she was taken into an interview room.

  The sergeant questioned her, asking her to tell him exactly what had happened, then gave her a pen and paper to write out her statement.

  When she emerged, Larry took her by the arm. ‘Right, now we go to your place and you pack a bag with a few things you’ll need because you are definitely not staying alone in your house!’

  As he propelled her along she asked, ‘And where do you suggest I go?’

  ‘To my place, of course! I’ve a spare bedroom you can have, then at least I’ll know you’re safe.’

  She was too surprised to argue and, from the tone of his voice, she doubted that he would listen anyway.

  Jessie hurriedly packed a few clothes, her nightdress and toiletries and walked downstairs. Larry picked up her case and said, ‘I’ve looked around and everything is safely locked, so let’s go.’

  They didn’t make conversation on their walk back to the office and when they arrived, he put her case in a cupboard and, looking at her, said, ‘Fine. Now let’s get back to normal. I’ll see you at lunchtime.’

  Jessie found it hard to concentrate for a while. She’d been swept along by her boss and was wondering how she was going to feel staying with him. Would she see a different side to this enigma of a man? But for a while it had been comforting to have someone take over the situation that had befallen her. It had been some time since that had happened and it left her feeling somewhat confused.

  At lunchtime, Larry appeared at Jessie’s office door, sending Helen for her lunch break and suggesting that Jessie go with him to the local for a beer and a sandwich, as they had done before.

  Once settled, he relaxed and, turning to her, asked, ‘How are you now? Do you feel any better having given your statement? That couldn’t have been easy, having to go through that again.’

  ‘It wasn’t so bad. Thanks for coming with me.’

  ‘What else could I do? I couldn’t let you go on your own.’

  ‘I’ve told you, you’re not responsible for me!’

  He gazed at her. ‘Yes, you have, but somehow I do feel responsible and I don’t mind at all, so why should it trouble you?’

  ‘I wish I knew!’ she retorted.

  ‘Your trouble, Jessie, is that you are far too independent. You have spent your life fighting to survive. Relax a little, make room for your friends and people who care about you.’

  ‘You make me sound unfriendly and I’m not at all.’

  ‘No, you’re not, but since Conor’s death, you’ve built a wall around you to stop anyone getting too close. It’s time to take down those barriers.’

  ‘Now you’re a psychologist?’

  Grinning broadly, he answered, ‘Not at all, just a friend.’

  That evening at the close of the working day, Larry collected Jessie and her suitcase, then caught a tram to The Avenue, a wide long road at the edge of town, surrounded by trees and well-built houses. It almost felt like moving into the countryside.

  Jessie was filled with curiosity as Larry stopped outside a large house and led her up the path to a solid carved front door, which he opened, then stood back to allow her to enter.

  There was a large hallway with tiled flooring, a winding staircase and several doors leading off it. In one corner was a tall stand with a plant in it. It looked strangely old-fashioned, which surprised her.

  Larry took her into his living room. It was welcoming, cosy and beautifully furnished. There was a large fireplace, with an ornate mirror over a mantelpiece. Either side of the fire facing each other were two comfortable sofas, a side table
at the back of one of them with several bottles of spirits and cut glasses. Ornate rugs covered the floor. Around the room were one or two comfortable upholstered chairs and a French door, draped in dark green velvet. In the middle of the room a small but splendid chandelier hung from the ceiling, with standard lights placed in the corners, which would give a comforting light on a dark night.

  He put a light to the already-laid fire and then walked over to the bottles. Picking up a glass he asked, ‘Whisky and soda?’

  ‘That would be lovely,’ she said.

  ‘Sit down, Jessie,’ he said, pointing to one of the sofas. ‘The fire will soon catch.’ He poured their drinks and handed one to her, then sat opposite. ‘Cheers!’

  ‘Cheers!’ she answered. ‘You have a beautiful home, Larry.’

  He looked pleased. ‘Thank you. I bought it some time ago. It’s peaceful here. Nice to get away from the bustle of the town and business. I have a housekeeper who comes in daily. She’s left some food in the oven for us. She’s a wonderful cook, so we should eat well tonight.’

  Thinking of her own home with the outside toilet and tin bath, Jessie couldn’t help the comparison. She’d tasted the better side of living when she’d worked for Forbes in the hotel, but for him, this was his style, his life. But he’d worked hard for his money, so she didn’t begrudge him the comfort that brought.

  Shortly after, Larry took her into a small dining room, where the table was already laid, and settled her. ‘I’ll just go into the kitchen and get our meal.’

  He returned shortly with a tray of food, which he placed on the sideboard. He took a pie and placed it on a mat in the centre of the table, then another dish with vegetables, followed by yet another of smoothly mashed potatoes. Finally, he put a jug of gravy on the table.

  Jessie watched as he served the food onto the plates. This was a side to him she’d never seen and it amused her to see him so domesticated.

  ‘Tuck in,’ he said. ‘I don’t know about you, Jessie, but I’m starving!’

  The delicious aroma wafted across the table and Jessie realised she, too, was hungry. She took a morsel of food and ate it. ‘This is delicious and the pastry is so light. Your housekeeper is indeed a good cook!’

  ‘Coming from you, that is really a compliment. I remember you had a great reputation as a cook when you ran the cafe.’

  ‘That seems like another life,’ she said.

  ‘Well it was. But time marches on. We just have to make the best of it.’

  After dinner, Jessie helped to clear the dishes and insisted on washing up. While she did so, Larry made some coffee and they took it into the living room. The fire threw out its comforting warmth and Jessie felt herself relax. How nice it must be, she thought, to come home to such a comfortable place at the end of the working day. But then she realised that Larry would come back to an empty house. Yes, there would be a meal prepared, but he would sit alone to eat it. Now she realised why he said he was lonely. She could understand that, because she felt the same when she walked into her empty home.

  When they finished their coffee, her host took her upstairs to the spare bedroom. It had twin beds, a wardrobe, side tables and a dressing table with a triple mirror. On the bed were clean towels.

  ‘The bathroom is across the hall,’ he told her. ‘I’ll give you a call in the morning, so try and get a good night’s sleep.’

  ‘Thanks for this,’ Jessie said.

  He just smiled and left the room.

  Jessie washed and changed, then climbing into bed, thought how very strange life could be. Here she was sleeping in a bed belonging to a man she used to dislike intensely those few years ago, but he had been her salvation several times over. Weird, very weird!

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The following morning, Jessie was awakened by a tapping on her door. ‘Come in!’ she called. Larry entered with a cup of tea, which he placed on the bedside table, opened the curtains and, turning to her, said, ‘Breakfast in half an hour!’

  The smell of bacon wafted in the air as Jessie came down the stairs and headed for the kitchen. Larry was at the stove cooking. The kitchen table was laid, the kettle boiling.

  ‘There’s the teapot. Pour the water into it, will you, while I cook the eggs.’

  There was toast and marmalade to accompany the breakfast. As she tucked into the food, she looked at him. ‘You really are full of surprises!’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘How so?’

  ‘I never ever saw you as domesticated.’

  ‘I live alone, Jessie. You don’t think I’m going hungry, surely?’

  ‘To be honest, I’ve never pictured you at home.’

  ‘I’m never quite sure what kind of picture you do have of me, but it’s far from the man I am, that I’m sure of.’

  They finished their breakfast without further conversation, aware of the passing time and the need to get to the office.

  Three days passed and Briggs was still in hiding and so Jessie continued to go home each evening with her boss. They began to relax in each other’s company and the evenings became enjoyable.

  On the fourth day, Jessie spent the day with Nancy. They shopped, had lunch and went to the cinema. Jessie had planned to take a later tram to the house in The Avenue and Larry said he’d wait until she arrived to eat.

  It was dark when eventually the girls went their separate ways. Jessie made her way towards Canal Walk, taking a shortcut to the nearest tram stop. It was quiet, the shops in The Ditches were now all closed. It was too early for the brasses to congregate for the evening’s business and it was deserted. Jessie wasn’t worried; she’d lived in the area for so many years and was familiar with the comings and goings of the place.

  She stopped to peer into the window of the pawnshop, its contents dimly lit from a street light, when she was suddenly grabbed from behind and hit over the head.

  Slowly opening her eyes, Jessie was dazed, her head ached. She was on hard ground. The place was in darkness apart from a shaft of light coming from a small window. She then realised her hands were tied. From what little light there was, she was able to see she was in a small room. But where and why? Who had hit her? She tried to concentrate. It could only be one person who would wish to harm her and that was Harry Briggs! She felt the blood chill in her veins. Where was he? Why had he left her here … and what was he going to do when he returned?

  She managed to get to her feet, but feeling dizzy, put her head down until she felt more stable. Feeling round the walls, she found a wooden door. Feeling all over it, she looked for some weakness, but it appeared to be solidly built and locked. She turned and walked a few paces and stumbled over something. Feeling around, she found it to be a small stool and placed it back on its legs, then sat down. She was in deep trouble, she now realised. No one would know where she was – only that she was missing. Where was this place? She had no idea. It had to be part of a building, but which one and where? Getting to her feet, Jessie started calling for help, but there was just silence. No sound outside to help her. She tried to undo the bonds that were round her wrists, but was unable to move them. Tears of frustration trickled down her cheeks. She was thirsty and hungry … and angry! The only chance she would have was when Briggs returned. He’d have to open the door, and so she’d have to be ready for him to have any chance at all.

  Larry Forbes kept looking at his watch. Jessie was very late. Surely her meeting couldn’t have taken this long? Another hour passed and he left the house. He made his way to Nancy’s home and knocked on the door.

  When she answered it, she was surprised to see him there, but even more surprised when he told her Jessie hadn’t returned.

  ‘But I left her three hours ago!’

  ‘Which way did she go, do you know?’

  ‘She walked towards The Ditches.’ She frowned. ‘Do you think something’s happened to her, Mr Forbes?’

  He nodded. ‘I’m afraid so. I’m going to report this to the police now.’ He hurried away.


  An hour later the police had a search party out looking for Jessie. They went to Briggs’s house, but his wife said he hadn’t been home for two days. They searched every inch of The Ditches and found one of Jessie’s gloves.

  Empty buildings in the area were thoroughly searched to no avail. Door-to-door searches were made, but no one had heard or seen anything of Jessie McGonigall or Harry Briggs.

  At the end of the day, Larry Forbes walked up and down his living room, wracking his brains as to where Briggs could have taken Jessie. He must have found her in The Ditches, but knowing Jessie’s fighting spirit, Briggs must have attacked her, maybe knocked her unconscious. That was the only way he could have managed to remove her. No one heard any screams or cries, so she must have been helpless. The thought terrified him. Was she badly hurt? Tomorrow when it was light he’d resume his search. What else could he do?

  Jessie woke at daybreak. She’d slept huddled up on the floor and was stiff. Her mouth was dry and she was covered in dust. Now she could see her surroundings. Struggling to her feet, she looked around. The room was in a basement, this she could tell from the small window above. She could make out some buildings opposite, but they looked derelict. She couldn’t recognise where she might be, nothing looked familiar. Her head still ached. She managed to get her tied hands to her head where she felt a bump, which was tender to the touch. She stretched her aching bones.

  ‘You’ll bloody well pay for this, Briggs! Just you wait until you come through that door. I’m ready for you, you bastard!’ She stormed around the room venting her anger, then she sat upon the stool. She was bursting to go to the toilet, but there was no receptacle she could use. Through sheer desperation, she went into a corner and hoisted her skirt, then lowered her drawers and relieved herself. That indignity was the final straw.