He yawned. He hadn’t slept more than an hour without waking in a sweat, recalling the sight of blood pouring out of his friend’s neck.
Even before the fight though, it had been Josie, and his hopeless love for her, that had robbed him of sleep. Over the years, how many nights had he lain awake thinking about her beautiful eyes and innocent, open smile. In the over-crowded house in Cinnamon Street, as Gus snored beside him in the old bed, he would dream of becoming a captain on a tall rigger, sailing the oceans to come back home laden with treasures to give to her.
Even after he’d married Rosa, try as he might to forget Josie, he would find himself remembering the feel of her against him and their innocent, fumbled caresses in dark doorways when her mother wasn’t looking.
He thought he had learnt to live without Josie O’Casey in the same way a man accepts a withered hand. He functioned with it but he was never completely whole. But now life in its cruelty, had brought her back to him, opening up the old wound to taunt him with what he had thrown away for ever because of a moment of folly with Rosa . . .
People moved aside to let him pass into the house. He greeted his mother, and Gus who was standing next to her, then he spotted Mattie and made his way towards where she stood at the top of the table.
Mattie looked up with a troubled expression on her face. He glanced out of the window at the fading light and supposed she had been expecting him an hour since.
‘Pat?’ she said looking past him for a second.
He hugged her to him and kissed her on the forehead before releasing her.
‘Sorry, I’m late, Mat,’ he said. ‘Old Bert was buried this morning. Some of the boys chipped in and paid his rent until the end of the week. I dropped it off on my way here.’
Mattie glanced behind him again. ‘Where’s Josie?’
‘Josie?’
‘She was here not half an hour ago. She’s gone to the Mermaid to find you.’
Blood thundered through his head. ‘Alone?’
The docks and wharves weren’t exactly the best places for a woman during the day, but after they fell silent at the end of the working afternoon, the whole area became a cesspool of drunks and prostitutes, sleazy, and dangerous.
Several people looked his way and scowled at him for raising his voice but Patrick didn’t care. All he could think about was Josie, his Josie, in jeopardy.
He turned and pushed his way back through the mourners.
The sun had already set behind the tall warehouses in Butchers’ Row as Josie made her way towards Narrow Street in the evening mist from the river. The iron cranes used to lift the goods from the dockside were silent above her and the wide doors that allowed wagons in for loading cargo were bolted closed. A few men finishing late still trudged down the street, but now the small public houses, some no more than cottages with a couple of chairs in the front room and a barrel or two, had opened for custom. The pale yellow glow of their window lights cut weakly through the foggy atmosphere of coal-dust laden twilight.
Out of the dark recesses between the buildings women appeared in gaudy dresses, their cheeks heavy with rouge and their lips brightly painted. They gave her curious glances but Josie didn’t care - all she cared about was finding Patrick.
Although she knew she would compromise her good name by chasing through the streets alone at night, she had to see him. She was in hell with no way out. She loved Patrick but they could never be together without the blessing of the church. It was just not done. It would cut Mam and Pa to the quick, not to mention endanger her mam’s fragile recovery. If that weren’t enough to hold her back, if she were to do the unthinkable and throw all convention aside, it would likely revive the old scandal around her parents’ relationship before their marriage. Moreover, someone might discover that Bobbie was born a year before Mam and Pa were actually married and, despite her love for Patrick, Josie loved Bobbie too much to risk exposing her illegitimacy.
But tonight, after looking on Brian’s lifeless face and seeing only Patrick in his stead, even those fearful considerations couldn’t hold her back from seeking Patrick out.
She hurried on, into the winding thoroughfare that ran alongside the river to Limehouse pier, where Patrick moored his boat. As she neared the river the wisps of mist thickened and, as her feet clattered along the wooden boards, upright moorings and crates seemed to loom out at her.
A couple of drunks waving bottles shouted across to her as they lolled outside one of the drinking dens. Josie turned her head to quickly hurry on, almost colliding with a young woman in a tatty dress trying to lure a German sailor into one of the back alleys. Finally, stepping carefully through the horse manure, Josie crossed over to Limehouse pier. The tide was almost out, so the boats sat low in their moorings and the stench of the river hung rancid on the still air.
Peering at the names painted on the hulls, Josie made her way carefully along the broad wooden jetty where tugs were tied up ready for the next day. She spotted the Mermaid at the end.
There didn’t seem to be anyone about, but Patrick had to be on board, otherwise she would have met him on his way home.
A damp fog arrived suddenly, swirling around her, and shadows danced over the boat as it bobbed on the shallow water making it difficult for her to see the stern. Then she saw a movement at the back of the boat. Covering the last few paces along the wooden jetty she swung herself onto the ladder. Her skirts billowed as she stepped down to the deck of the boat.
Breathing in the sweet, tarry smell of the coal that the Mermaid carried, Josie caught a glimpse of Patrick bending over the side of the boat near the rudder. She steadied herself against side and made her way towards him. The boats either side knocked into the Mermaid, sending up a low boom and causing her to focus on her balance and move more slowly.
‘Patrick!’ she called, her heart beating in her chest with anticipation.
Patrick turned.
Josie’s legs lost their strength and the breath rushed from her body as Charlie Tugman’s face loomed out of the fog.
For once, he wasn’t dressed in his usual showy manner but wore a nondescript grey jacket and trousers with a cap pulled low over his brow. A neckerchief was tied round his throat.
An amused expression crossed his sharp face and then he grinned as he called out, ‘Oi, Harry, look who’s come calling.’
Harry Tugman scrambled up over the side of the Mermaid. He too was wearing workman’s clothes and carried an axe in his right hand.
Oh sweet mother! Where was Patrick? She glanced at the axe, fear clutching at her guts.
With a monumental effort, she forced herself to stay calm. If Patrick was lying unconscious somewhere on the boat, then every moment she delayed put his life in peril. She tried to retrace her steps but her feet stayed rooted to the spot.
Bewilderment flashed over Harry’s fleshy face before he dropped the axe and lumbered towards her. Grasping her skirts, Josie compelled her legs to move.
Harry’s heavy steps crashed behind her closer every second so, keeping her eyes on the horizon to steady herself, she pushed on. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Charlie cut around the other side of the boat.
If she could get back onto the jetty she could call for the local policeman on his beat, checking on the warehouses. With black spots in her vision and her heart nearly bursting from her chest, she reached out to take hold of the first rung of the ladder, when Charlie jumped down in front of her.
He grinned at her, revealing his tobacco-stained teeth. ‘What’s your hurry, missy?’ he leered, his eyes lingering on her breasts.
Josie stepped back, straight into Harry. He grabbed her upper arms and held her firm. Charlie ran his index finger lightly over her left cheekbone. She forced herself not to move, knowing that fear would only add to their pleasure.
‘You seem surprised to see us, sweetheart,’ he said, and traced the outline of her lips with his finger.
With his face close to hers the bitter smell of Charlie’s dec
aying teeth was almost overpowering. Bile stung the back of her throat.
‘I suppose you were thinking to find your bit of fancy - Patrick-fecking-Nolan - waiting for you!’ he shouted.
His fingernail grazed along her jaw, then down the soft area under her ear and onto the neckline of her dress.
Josie suppressed a shiver. ‘What have you done with him?’
‘Bastard’s not here,’ Charlie replied, as his hand slid down and fondled one breast.
Relief flooded over Josie, but where was he? If he’d not arrived at his sister’s yet then he wouldn’t even know she was here, let alone come and find her.
‘Very nice,’ he said squeezing hard. ‘You want to have a little feel,’ he said to Harry over her head. Josie aimed a kick at Charlie’s shins but Harry lifted her back so her foot swung in mid-air.
‘Get your filthy hands off me, you pig,’ she spat at him.
Harry set her on her feet and Josie tried to slip from his grasp but he held her firm. Sliding an arm around her waist he pressed himself against her, rubbing his crotch into her bottom. Josie squirmed away but Harry laughed and held her firmer.
Lust clouded Charlie’s eyes. ‘It can only mean one thing - a lady like you sneaking out our way to seek out Nolan . . . ’ Charlie’s fingers curled over the lace trim of her neckline. ‘You’re after a bit of rough swiving.’ He tore at her gown and Josie screamed.
Harry’s hand clamped over her mouth, almost blocking off her air. Drawing in a deep breath through her nose, Josie forced her panic down. She kicked back and then scraped the heel of her shoe down Harry’s shin bone. He grunted, but his grip remained tight around her and he yanked at her bonnet. The ribbon snapped instantly and he tossed the bonnet across the deck where it disappeared though the opening to the hold. Then he slid his hand around her throat and put his mouth close to her ear and licked down from her ear to her shoulder with a broad sweep of his tongue.
Josie gagged. Charlie then tugged her dress clear of her shoulder and upper arm, leaving only her chemise covering her breasts. His eyes fixed on her undergarment for a moment then he reached out to rip that away too.
Josie lunged forward and smacked her forehead onto his nose. He let out a yelp and put his hand to his face. Venom flashed in his eyes but then his grin returned.
‘Oh, Harry, we have a fighter here,’ he said, as blood dripped off the end of his nose. ‘Get her on her back.’
Josie dug in her heels but she was no match for him. He dragged her to the stern and threw her on an old tarpaulin, knocking the wind out of her. He kept her down while Charlie grabbed at her skirts and thrust his hand underneath them.
Josie summoned all her strength and kicked out wildly. She freed a hand and clawed and raked at Charlie’s face with her nails.
He grabbed her hair and shook her until stars started exploding at the corner of her vision. Darkness began to descend on her and she breathed as deep a breath as she could, knowing she had to stay conscious to keep her wits. If she fainted she’d be at their mercy - if you could call it that.
Charlie loomed over her and wedged himself between her legs. His hands went to her skirts again and flipped them up. ‘Cussing petticoats,’ he said, as he got in a tangle with her white underskirts.
His hands went to the button of his fly and panic took hold of Josie. She screamed and as Harry tried to cover her mouth she sank her teeth into his hand. He yanked it away and let out a string of unintelligible oaths.
Josie screamed again but Charlie threw himself on her, spreading her legs with his knees.
Harry grasped her hands and held them above her as Charlie kept fumbling with her undergarments. Josie steeled herself for the pain that would surely rip through her at any moment.
Suddenly there was a dull thud and Charlie’s weight shifted. Everything went still as he grunted then slumped across her, his weight on her making it difficult for her to breathe.
Josie blinked slowly and shook her head from side to side, then a sob rose in her throat as she saw Patrick. He stood with a length of iron piping in his hand and murder in his eyes.
Although Patrick wanted the pleasure of smashing the pipe against Charlie Tugman’s head until it was no more than pulp, he resisted the temptation. The fact that he’d rendered him unconscious was sufficient for now in evening the odds.
He had been almost mad with fear as he ran from Mattie’s house to his mooring. He knew that Brian’s death didn’t bring him and Josie any nearer to a respectable union, but the terrible sight of his friend’s sightless eyes staring up at him and Mattie’s white-faced grief when they brought her husband home, had caused his resolve to waver. He was sure Josie felt the same way when she got the news.
Knowing Josie, he realised she would ignore the danger of the streets in order to find him, but when he reached Limehouse pier and heard her scream, instinct had taken over. Grabbing the cast-iron pipe from a pile on the dockside, he’d leapt down and run to the Mermaid, where he saw Josie pinned down by Harry Tugman and Charlie between her outstretched legs.
Consumed with blinding fury and disgust Patrick, in a lightning movement, had cracked the weapon over Charlie’s head so hard the blow had reverberated up his arm while Charlie grunted and pitched forward across Josie. Her eyes flew open and she saw Patrick, but he fixed his eyes on Harry.
‘Let her go,’ he said in a controlled voice as Josie struggled to get free of Charlie’s inert body.
Harry, like the coward he was, dragged Josie out backwards from under Charlie and held her in front of him like a shield. The upper part of her gown had been ripped to the waist and pulled down on one shoulder. Her corset still held but the only fabric covering her breasts was the thin lawn cotton of her under-chemise.
Patrick’s hand tightened around the pipe at the realisation of how nearly he’d failed to get to Josie in time.
‘Come and get her,’ Harry sneered, and caught her tightly around the waist with one arm while reaching for her breast with his other hand.
Patrick fought to keep his control. Harry hadn’t reached for his knife yet, and Patrick wanted to keep it that way. ‘I said, let her go,’ he repeated.
Harry repositioned his grip and grinned at Patrick. ‘I’d make myself scarce, Nolan, before Charlie comes round.’
Charlie was lying on his back staring blank-eyed up at the stars, oblivious to all and every thing. The steady rise and fall of his chest showed he was alive, but the right side of his mouth drooped and a damp patch was spreading across his crotch.
Patrick kicked the prone man’s foot. ‘I don’t think your brother’s going to wake up any time soon,’ he said and, with his eyes fixed on Harry, he heaved Charlie up under the arms and dragged him to the side of the boat with his head lolling back and forth like a rag doll.
Patrick turned and looked at Harry. ‘You let Miss O’Casey go or I’ll throw him over.’
‘You do and I’ll kill you both.’
‘And by that time your brother Charlie will be lying in the mud at the bottom, and you’ll have to tell your ma how you let her “sweet boy” drown while you scrapped over a woman.’
Harry’s piggy eyes narrowed, and Patrick studied him for a long moment, gauging the distance between them. ‘Let her go, or Charlie takes a swim.’
But Harry’s hand went back to Josie’s breast and Patrick released Charlie.
Before Charlie even hit the water Patrick was across the boat and behind Harry. Gripping the pipe in both hands he looped it over Harry’s head, jamming it across his throat. Harry released Josie instantly, gurgling as the iron pressed into his Adam’s apple and clawing at the obstruction over his windpipe.
Patrick’s fury took hold, but then he caught sight of Josie, slumped on a coil of rope and trying to gather her ruined dress together. He let go and pushed Harry forward, choking and holding his throat.
Harry stumbled clumsily across the deck. ‘You’ll fecking pay for this, Nolan,’ he croaked as he lowered himself over the side after
his brother. ‘It ain’t over yet.’
Patrick raced over and took Josie in his arms. He closed his eyes and kissed her hair, smelling the lavender in it.
‘Are you hurt?’ he asked, trying to blot from his mind the full horror of what might have happened had he not reached the Mermaid in time.
She shook her head. ‘I know we agreed not to see each other but I saw Brian lying there and I just had to see you and hold you . . .’ Her body began to shake with sobs and she pressed her tear-damp cheek against his chest. Patrick kissed her hair again, just because he could.
‘Shh, it’s all right now, I’m here,’ he said, feeling her body on every part of him. How had he lived without her? He didn’t know.
He glanced around. The dockside was quiet now and, although Harry was probably still trying to haul his brother out of the river near the shore, Patrick couldn’t be certain that the brute wouldn’t reappear at any moment.
A Glimpse at Happiness Page 22