‘We could buy a box of chocolates and eat them on the way home,’ Ruby wheedled. They had never tasted the different centres in a box of chocolates, only ever having had the odd ha’penny or penny to spend on sweets or a comic in the past, when their father or one of their brothers had slipped them a coin. It did the trick. John nodded. ‘All right. I won’t say nowt.’
Ruby smiled. She had known that her blackmail would prevail. Besides, what harm was there in telling Tom Crawford about Donald leaving them? Everyone was going to know sooner or later – they couldn’t keep it a secret forever.
Chapter Ten
Lucy sat at the kitchen table feeling too tired to move. She should go to bed, she told herself. It was close on midnight and she wouldn’t hear anything further about Jacob until tomorrow. Frank had been as good as his word and had popped round shortly before ten o’clock to say that his da had just got back and there was no change. Jacob was in a coma and it didn’t look good. His mam, he’d added, was refusing to budge, and nothing his da or the hospital staff had said had been able to convince Enid to come home and rest.
‘Is there no hope?’ she’d asked Frank, hearing the pleading in her voice and feeling ashamed for putting added pressure on him at such a time. But she’d had to ask.
Frank had rubbed his mouth. ‘From what they’ve said to Da, it might be better if he goes quick, lass. Oh, I’m sorry, Lucy, don’t look like that, but if he got over this, the odds are he’d be left in a right mess. Broken bones heal, but he could be blind or deaf and unable to walk, talk, feed himself even. They can’t tell yet, but it don’t look good.’
After Frank had gone she’d cried until she was cried-out. Now a kind of stupor had come over her and her mind had retreated into a dull numbness. All day her mind had grappled with ways of keeping the family together until she’d driven herself mad.
When she heard the back door into the scullery open, for a wild, breathless moment she thought Donald had come home. Not breathing, she watched the door into the kitchen open, but it wasn’t her brother who stood framed in the doorway.
Tom Crawford’s face was unsmiling and his voice was deep in his throat as he said, ‘I saw the light, so I knew you were still up.’
Lucy rose, clutching the back of her chair for support. ‘Is it Jacob? He’s not . . .’
‘Jacob?’ he asked on a note of surprise, before saying, ‘Oh, Jacob. No, no it’s not Jacob,’ an edge to his voice. ‘Look,’ he said after a moment’s pause, and now his tone was commiserating, ‘I know how you’re fixed – Donald leaving and everything – and I’m sorry, lass. Heart-sorry. You must be worried sick with the little ones to look after.’
As he came further into the room every muscle in Lucy’s body tensed. The fear and unease she’d felt in his presence before were stronger, and it was this that made her say, ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘So Donald hasn’t upped and gone?’
‘No, he’s here.’ She looked up at the ceiling. ‘Asleep in bed.’
‘You’re a terrible liar.’ He smiled as he stopped a foot or so away. ‘Did anyone ever tell you that?’
She shivered inside, but now that the shock was receding, her voice was stronger as she said, ‘I tell you, he’s here. Where else would he be?’
‘Then would you mind waking him, so I can have a word? He was supposed to do a job for me tonight and he didn’t turn up.’
Her brain refused to work quickly enough and she gazed at him dumbly.
‘I thought so.’ His smile widened. ‘And don’t get me wrong – I like it that you don’t lie well. So many girls have got it down to a fine art. But then you’re not like any other lass. Not to me, anyway,’ he added, and his voice had a funny quiver to it.
She knew she had to get him to leave, but she didn’t know how. Gathering her scattered wits, she tried to inject authority into her voice. ‘It’s late and I think you ought to go. It’s not right you’re here at this time of night.’
‘I haven’t told you why I’ve come.’
‘I don’t want to know. I want you to leave.’
He stared at her, his smile dying as his jaw reacted to her stance by tensing a muscle in his cheek. ‘So I’m shown the door, while Jacob’s made welcome any time. Is that it? I’ve seen you, dancing with him out there.’ He flicked his head towards the yard. ‘Well, you can forget Jacob now. If he lasts the night it’ll be a miracle, and the way I see it, that’s what you need – a miracle, or it’ll be the workhouse for the bairns for sure.’
A terrible suspicion was taking form in Lucy’s mind. One part of her was saying: No, no, he wouldn’t do that, not to his own brother; but there had been something in Tom’s voice when he’d spoken Jacob’s name . . . ‘What do you know about the attack on Jacob?’ she whispered, her hand at her throat.
Tom shrugged. ‘He’d clearly riled someone, but then Jacob has a talent in that direction. Maybe they decided he needed to be taught a lesson, I don’t know. Frankly, I don’t care. I’m not going to pretend there’s any love lost between us. Anyway, I’m not here to talk about him. Lucy’ – he reached out and took her hands in his before she could stop him – ‘I’m prepared to take care of you and the others. I want you, I always have, and if you marry me I’ll be good to you, I swear it. You’ll want for nothing.’
‘Marry you?’ The thought was abhorrent, repugnant, and in her naivety she let him see the truth, even before she tugged her hands from his.
His nostrils flared, but his voice was low when he said, ‘Aye, me, and let me tell you there’s plenty who’d bite my hand off, so quick would they say yes.’
‘It was you who got my da and brother killed. You threw their bodies in the dock and everyone thinks they’re drunkards, and you’ve frightened Donald to death so he’s run away.’ She took a deep pull of air, backing away from him until she found herself against the wall.
‘I did no such thing.’ He followed her, still talking quietly, but with red-hot colour searing his cheekbones. ‘Your father and brother got themselves killed, remember that. Your father came to me begging me to put something his way; it wasn’t my fault he couldn’t handle it. And I covered up for them after. Or would you have preferred they be branded as thieves and Donald sent down the line, eh? Because that’s what would have happened if they’d been found in the hold of the ship.’
‘You did it for yourself, not them.’
‘Is that so?’
She knew she was inflaming his fury, but she couldn’t stop herself. The bitter anger and hurt had been kept in too long, and now here he was – the man she hated and despised – and he still wouldn’t admit what he’d done or show any remorse. ‘Yes, it is so, and you know it. Jacob’s always known what you’re really like, and he wouldn’t dance to your tune like the others, would he? That’s what you couldn’t bear.’
‘Shut up about Jacob.’ He raised his hand as though he was going to slap her, but as she faced him, wide-eyed and trembling, he groaned, ‘Aw, lass, don’t be like this. I’ve said I’ll marry you, haven’t I, an’ take on the young ’uns an’ all. What more do you want?’
‘I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on Earth.’ She tried to make a run for it, thinking that if she could get to the hall and call out, Ruby and John would hear, but he caught her arm, jerking her to him before she’d even taken a step.
‘Oh aye, you will,’ he ground out thickly. ‘I want you, and you’ll come crawling on your knees begging me to marry you before I’m finished.’
‘No!’ His mouth closing over hers smothered her protest as he bent her backwards, but as her fingers came up to his face and her nails rent his skin, he swore, his leg whipping her knees from under her so that they fell to the floor.
Now one hand was over her mouth and the other tearing at her clothes as he seemed to go mad. Lucy continued to scratch and kick, but the muscled weight of him made it futile. Tom was a tall, heavy, well-built man in his prime and her slender body still had to fill out into the
full curves of womanhood, so her struggles made no impact on him except to excite him more. For minutes she fought, even when she was all but naked. His mouth at her small breasts, his exploring, pinching fingers, the indignities he was heaping on her – it was as though hell had opened and swallowed her. A hell much worse than anything Parson Shawe had preached about.
When her body was suddenly rent in two by indescribable pain – a pain that went on and on as Tom hammered into her – even the hand across her mouth couldn’t prevent the agonized screams, but they were muffled and choked. And then he gave a great shuddering groan and collapsed on top of her, his fingers moving with the motion and covering her nose too so that combined with the crushing weight of him, she couldn’t breathe. But she struggled no more, not caring at that instant if she lived or died.
When, after a moment or two, the weight lifted, Lucy couldn’t move. Not until he stood looking down at her did she find the strength to pull the torn remnants of her skirt about her and roll onto her face.
His voice harsh, he muttered, ‘You brought this on yourself, you know that, don’t you? I wanted to do it right, but you’d have none of it. Well, my offer still stands. I’ll marry you an’ take the bairns on an’ all, and there’s not many who’d put up their hand for that, so think on.’ He waited a moment and, when there was no movement or word from the figure at his feet, walked to the door. ‘I’ll be back when you’ve had time to see reason.’ He hesitated, then walked to the table and flung a handful of coins on its wooden surface. ‘That’s to tide you over,’ he said gruffly. ‘You’ll find I’m not tight-fisted, not with me own and, like I said before, you’ll want for nothing. But I won’t be played for a fool. And I tell you something: I want no more talk of Jacob. You look at another man and I’ll do for ’em. Remember that.’
It wasn’t until Lucy heard the back door close that she painfully dragged herself to her knees. Holding onto a kitchen chair for support, she stood up and stumbled out into the scullery. The bolts on the door were rusty and stiff, but eventually she managed to work them into place. Then, shaking from head to foot, her legs gave way and she slid onto the floor, her face awash with the tears racking her body.
At two o’clock in the morning she brought the tin bath into the kitchen. She painstakingly filled it to the brim with kettle after kettle of hot water and then stripped off her tattered clothes. Before stepping into the steaming bath she burned every last scrap of clothing on the range fire and then used the scrubbing brush to scour her skin until it was red and raw.
This, then, was what her mam had told her about, the thing that happened between a man and a woman. Her blue eyes wide and tear-bleared, she shuddered. She couldn’t imagine being married and it happening over and over. She never wanted a man to touch her again, and the thought of Tom Crawford made her skin crawl. She would kill herself rather than marry him.
She sat in the water for a long time before drying herself. Then, with the towel wrapped round her, she crept upstairs. Ruby and the twins were fast asleep. She stood for a moment, staring down at them. They were the same. The nightmare that had happened to her downstairs hadn’t touched them, but it had changed her forever. And if anyone found out they would say she was bad, that she’d given him the eye and got what she’d asked for. It was always the same – her mam had told her that. Men could have umpteen girls and folk smiled and said they were sowing their wild oats and it was natural, but if a girl got taken down, it was a different kettle of fish. And that’s what had happened. She’d been taken down.
She covered her face with her hands and swayed back and forth for a few moments before becoming still.
She couldn’t let anyone know and, even if she could, who would she tell? Mrs Crawford would have been the natural person she would have run to, but she was Tom’s mother, she wouldn’t believe he had forced her. And just supposing she did, what would be the outcome? He would say he wanted to marry her, and she would rather go to the river this night and end it than endure that.
Shivering, she silently pulled on the only other clothes she possessed – her Sunday frock and spare set of underclothes. Once downstairs again, she disposed of the bath water and sat down at the table. The shivering had stopped and her mind had become clear. She knew exactly what she was going to do.
Her gaze fell on the pile of coins Tom Crawford had left on the table. There were two shiny half-crowns and a number of shillings and sixpences along with the copper. A small fortune to her, and yet to him just loose change in his pocket.
Shame and self-disgust rose in a hot flood. He had paid for her, like men did with women of the night. Her body was still throbbing and aching from his brutality, and with a low cry she swiped the coins onto the floor, where they rolled in all directions. And there they would stay. She wouldn’t touch a penny of his money.
She wanted to cry again. Instead she sat down and wrote a note, which she placed in the middle of the table.
We’re leaving but the sale of the table and chairs and the beds and everything will pay the rent we owe.
Lucy Fallow.
The few sticks of furniture they had left weren’t much, but at least she wouldn’t be worried the landlord would send his ‘collector’ after them. He was different from the rent man, the collector, and although she’d never seen him she knew of him from the neighbours. One family a door or two along the street had done a moonlight flit a few months ago and the collector had found them and broken the father’s kneecaps.
The note written, she placed the pan of stew she had made the day before on the hob to warm and sliced a loaf of bread to go with it. The pawn money that old Lonnie had dished out to Ruby and John had bought some scrag of mutton and a bag of vegetables and two loaves of bread, and she had a shilling over. A shilling between them and starvation. She glanced at the bread knife. It was the source of her troubles, or that’s how she felt, but as the last link to her mam and da, she’d rather have walked on hot coals than let it go again. In its own way it was as precious as Jacob’s necklace.
Her hand went to her throat and then she froze. The tiny heart and chain had gone. She glanced about her wildly. It must have come off when she was fighting Tom.
Going down on her hands and knees, she searched every inch of the kitchen floor by the light of the oil lamp, moving the lamp so that she could peer into the crevices between the stone flags. Nothing. She sat back on her heels after a while, beyond tears. Had it become caught in her tattered clothes and she’d unknowingly thrown it into the fire? She gave a dry sob. It was the last straw, a loss of gigantic magnitude.
Without much hope she went into the tiny scullery and there, by the back door where she had sat for a long time after she had secured the bolts, she caught a gleam of silver. The tiny clasp had come undone, that was all. Tremblingly she picked the precious necklace up and, with her hand against her chest and her eyes closed, the tears of relief flowed. If she had lost Jacob’s little heart it would have been the end of everything, that’s how she’d felt.
She roused Ruby first. Bringing her sister downstairs to the kitchen, she sat her at the table. ‘We have to leave here, now, today,’ she said without any preamble. ‘We’re behind with the rent and, once they know Donald’s gone, they’ll put you and John and the twins in the workhouse. Look, this is what Donald wrote.’ She had screwed up his note initially, not wanting the others to know the fate he’d consigned them to, but as an afterthought had straightened out the paper and hid it. Now she was glad she had. In Ruby’s eyes it backed up her words like nothing else could have done.
White-faced, Ruby read her brother’s scrawled words and for once her bumptiousness was absent. ‘You – you wouldn’t do what he said, would you?’ she whispered fearfully, the terrible tales her parents had told of their beginnings in that dreaded place filling her mind.
‘I don’t want to, so that’s why we have to go. But you’ll have to help me, Ruby. I’ll try and get a job somewhere, but you’ll have to take care of the little ones
.’
Ruby stared at her. ‘But where will we live?’
It was a good question. Until this very moment she hadn’t fully acknowledged that at the back of her mind she’d known Jacob wouldn’t see them destitute and neither would his mother. But now, in the space of twenty-four hours, everything had changed. Jacob had been beaten nearly to death and was lost to her, and so was Mrs Crawford in a different way. They were on their own.
‘Once I get a job we’ll find a room somewhere.’ As times had worsened, it wasn’t unusual for families of ten or more to rent one room in a house. Somehow they’d manage. She closed her mind as to how she was going to feed the five of them. ‘We need to take everything we can carry between us because we’re not coming back, not ever. You understand that, don’t you?’
Ruby nodded. She was frightened, not just by the situation, but by Lucy too. Her sister had a strange look on her face and her voice was wooden, odd. Whispering again, she said, ‘Are you all right?’
She would never be all right again, but she couldn’t tell Ruby what Tom had done. She couldn’t tell anyone. No one must ever know. She answered Ruby with a nod. ‘Go and get dressed and tell John what’s happening. It’ll be light soon and we need to get away once we’ve had something to eat. Make it a game with the twins, I don’t want them crying or creating as we leave.’
‘What’s that?’ Ruby had been about to do as she was told when her gaze fell on one of the half-crowns, which had rolled into a corner of the room. ‘It’s money, Lucy, and look, there’s more,’ she said excitedly as her sharp eyes spotted other coins.
As she sprang forward, Lucy’s arm shot out and pulled her back. ‘Leave them,’ she said fiercely.
‘Leave them?’ Ruby’s voice was high with surprise. ‘But it’s money, lots of money. Where’s it come from?’
‘That doesn’t matter, but I don’t want you picking it up, do you understand me? It’s not ours.’
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