A Daughter's Dream

by Cathy Sharp

  ‘Amy! What’s wrong?’ my mother cried. ‘Who is this young lady?’

  ‘Where is Terry?’

  ‘He has taken Margaret to the cinema.’

  ‘Good – the less he knows for the moment the better.’

  ‘Who is she?’ my father asked. ‘You had better tell us, Amy.’

  ‘Mary Maitland. We met at the hospital. Her fiancé, Paul Ross, has been killed in a car accident. I couldn’t leave her alone so I took her home …’ I was removing my coat as I spoke. My mother gave a cry of alarm as she saw that my blouse was torn.

  ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘Mr Maitland tried to rape me while Mary was lying down in her room. But I’m all right …’

  ‘Oh, Amy!’ My mother had gone white with shock.

  ‘I’ll kill the bastard!’

  I looked my father in the eyes. ‘Mary has already done that, Dad. She heard me screaming. She took his gun from his bedroom and shot him. She was in time to save me from the worst of it.’

  ‘Why have you brought her here?’ my mother said.

  ‘Bridget!’ My father was on his feet. ‘Sit here by the fire, lass. You look exhausted.’ He helped Mary to his chair. She obeyed but didn’t speak. She hadn’t spoken once since we left her house.

  ‘Joe …’

  ‘Think about it, Bridget. Amy is involved. The police might think it was a plot between them, especially if Amy wasn’t actually raped. At the very least she could have her picture flashed all over the papers and a lot of nasty things written about her.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ My mother stared at me in distress. ‘Why did you go there? You said you wouldn’t go to her house again.’

  ‘Mary was in a terrible state after Paul died, Mum. She loved him. I couldn’t let her go home alone to an empty house. Their housekeeper left them a week ago and the place was in a mess. Besides, she said her father was away. I didn’t expect …’ I shuddered. ‘It was horrible, like something out of a nightmare. He was laughing at me – at you and Dad. He thought he was so clever. He wanted to use me against you. He was going to humiliate me and … and … he did. I feel so awful …’

  Tears stung my eyes but I held them back.

  ‘Leave Amy be, love,’ my father said. ‘She’s not in much better state than this poor lass.’

  Mary was staring straight ahead of her. I didn’t think she was aware of what was going on. The shock of Paul’s death, followed by what she had done seemed to have robbed her of her senses.

  ‘Are you all right, Mary?’ I knelt by her side and took her hand in mine but she stared straight through me. ‘She hasn’t spoken since we left her house, but I hadn’t realized she was this bad until now.’

  ‘It’s shock,’ my father said. ‘She may come out of it but I can’t say for sure. We ought to get a doctor to her.’

  ‘Not yet,’ my mother said, and I could see that she had recovered from her own shock. ‘Leave her for a few days. Let’s see what happens. We don’t want her babbling away in some mental hospital.’

  ‘Take her upstairs and put her to bed, Bridget. I want to talk to Amy.’

  My mother smiled at Mary and held her hand. Mary clung to her. She was like a small trusting child as she allowed my mother to take her from the room.

  ‘You’re sure you’re all right, Amy? That bastard didn’t hurt you?’

  ‘Not in the way you mean, Dad. Mary came in time – but I feel so dirty. I’m sorry if I’ve made trouble for you. I knew Lainie wouldn’t have Mary there and I didn’t know what to do.’

  ‘You did the right thing, love. I’m your father and it’s my place to look after you when you’re in a spot of bother.’

  ‘It’s more than a spot of bother!’

  ‘We’ll get through it, love.’

  ‘I brought the gun with me. I’m not sure why.’

  ‘It’s as well you did, Amy. They have what they call forensic tests these days and they might be able to use fingerprints to prove who fired the gun. That was quick thinking, Amy. Give it to me. I’ll see to it for you.’

  I handed over the gun and he slipped it into his jacket pocket. ‘Not a word to your mother about this. She worries too much as it is.’

  ‘We threw some cushions about, knocked a lamp over. I thought it looked as if there had been a fight.’

  ‘Maitland was a crook. The police have suspected it for years. If we do this right they may think it was his past misdeeds catching up with him. God knows he deserved what he got, Amy. If Mary hadn’t killed him I would have for what he tried to do to you.’

  ‘Oh, Dad, don’t talk like that. I didn’t want anyone to kill him. Mum is right. I was a fool to go there but I couldn’t think what to do when Mary was so upset. She said there was nowhere she could go and no one who cared about her.’

  ‘You should have brought her here then,’ my father said. ‘But it’s easy enough for me to say that now. You wouldn’t have expected her to be welcome here, but you can’t blame the lass for what her father did.’

  ‘I don’t know what she’ll do, even if this all blows over and she’s in the clear. She has no one, Dad – no real friends, no relatives who would own her.’

  ‘We’ll think about that when we come to it. For the moment we have to get your story straight, Amy. I think you should tell the police that you came straight here after you left the hospital. We’ve been on our own all afternoon, no one will know any different. Besides, folk don’t split on each other round here. The police can ask all they like, they won’t hear a word about us from folk in the lanes. If we say you’ve been here all afternoon, then that’s where you were.’

  ‘Doesn’t that make you and Mum accomplices to the crime or something?’

  ‘Something like that,’ he said and chuckled. ‘You know my motto, Amy. In for a penny, in for a pound!’

  ‘Oh, Dad …’ A sob rose in my throat. He was such a good, dear man and he didn’t deserve to have this trouble pushed on him. ‘I shouldn’t have come here.’

  ‘Nonsense! There’s still enough go left in me to sort this out, love. It will take me out of myself, stop me feeling like an invalid. I’ve got plenty of friends to help me out, including a cabby who will swear to the time he brought you here if need be. That gun never existed. It will be in tiny pieces before the police start to search for it. Don’t you worry, Amy. All you have to do is phone your aunt, tell her you brought Mary here after you left the hospital, and that you’ll go back to work when you feel up to it.’

  ‘I should probably go in tomorrow, Dad. It might look odd if I didn’t.’

  ‘If you feel you can face it,’ he agreed.

  ‘I shan’t feel any better if I don’t.’

  ‘Work is always a help. You mustn’t feel ashamed, Amy. None of this was your fault. You did what you thought was right and got caught up in something that ought not to have concerned you.’

  ‘He was so horrible …’ I shuddered as the memory of Mr Maitland’s hateful words and what he had tried to do to me came sweeping back. My father stood up, opening his arms to me. He held me as I sobbed against his shoulder, the tears I had held back breaking from me in a flood. ‘He made me feel so dirty …’

  ‘Shush, love. It’s over.’ My father stroked my hair with his big, gentle hands. ‘He was a wicked man and you’re not the first he’s hurt. I know you feel shamed, but there’s no need. He was to blame, not you.’

  I moved away from the shelter of his embrace, wiping my face with the handkerchief he had given me. I knew that what he was saying was right, but the horror and humiliation was beginning to sink in. I had held my feelings in check for Mary’s sake, but now that the immediate crisis was over they had come back to haunt me.

  ‘I have to telephone Lainie,’ I said and went out into the hall.

  My aunt was horrified at the news.

  ‘I’m sorry about Paul Ross, of course I am,’ she said. ‘It is a terrible tragedy and I know you liked him, Amy. But as for the rest …’

  �
��I know you never trusted Mary, and I can understand why – but I liked her and she needed me. I could hardly leave her alone in that state, could I?’

  ‘Surely she has someone to help her?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  ‘What about her father?’

  ‘They … They don’t have much to do with each other. I think he’s too busy, away on business or something …’ My voice trailed away as I lied. ‘And she doesn’t have many real friends, Lainie.’

  ‘Well, I still think you’re a fool, but it’s up to you. When are you coming in again?’

  ‘Tomorrow I should think. I’m just staying here for the night.’

  ‘Well, that’s a relief. We’ve been inundated with enquiries.’

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then.’

  ‘Yes. Oh, I nearly forgot – there’s a parcel here for you. It was delivered just after you went rushing off apparently.’

  ‘I wasn’t expecting anything. Unless it’s some material or beads for my embroidery.’

  ‘It feels quite heavy,’ Lainie said. ‘Mary isn’t your responsibility, you know. You should send her home as soon as possible. That family is trouble, Amy. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.’

  The tears had dried by the time I finished my phone call. Lainie’s matter-of-fact tones had banished my feelings of self-pity and shame. They would come back to haunt me in the night, but for the moment they had gone.

  ‘Mary is sleeping,’ my mother said as she came down the stairs just as I replaced the receiver. ‘She was exhausted, poor girl. Your father was right, Amy. I’ve carried my fear and hatred of Philip Maitland for a long time, but Mary isn’t to blame for what he did – and in a way we owe her something. I’ll be honest with you, I shall rest easier in my bed now that man is dead.’ She crossed herself and looked guilty. ‘Jesus! What a sinner I am, to be pleased by a man’s death – but I can’t be sorry for it, Amy. He deserved what he got and more.’

  ‘That’s what Dad said.’ I went to put my arms about her and we hugged. ‘I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble.’

  ‘Sure, you know you’re never a trouble to us, me darlin’. This will give your father something to think about, help him back on his feet again I shouldn’t wonder.’

  She was always at her most Irish when she was distressed, and I knew she was worrying – for my father, for me and for Mary, too, because she always had looked after us all.

  ‘It was a terrible thing to happen,’ Margaret said when I saw her the next morning. ‘No wonder Miss Maitland was so upset, her fiancé dying like that.’

  ‘Her father was away and she was alone in the house, so I had to take her home with me. I couldn’t leave her to cope alone like that, could I?’

  ‘No, of course you couldn’t,’ Margaret said with a warm smile. ‘I think it was kind of you, Amy, and just what I’d expect you to do.’

  ‘She may be a bit of a cat sometimes,’ Sally remarked, breaking off a cotton thread with her sharp white teeth. ‘A lot of them rich girls are – but she’s human same as the rest of us. You done the right thing, Amy, and don’t you let no one tell you no different.’

  Each time I told the lie it got easier. I thought that I would believe it myself in time.

  Lainie hadn’t been so easy on me.

  ‘You look tired to death,’ she said. ‘Perhaps you should have stayed in bed instead of coming to work.’

  ‘I would rather be here. I just didn’t sleep very well, that’s all.’

  I had lain awake reliving the moments when I had been crushed beneath the weight of Philip Maitland’s body, feeling helpless as he thrust at me with his throbbing member and believing that there was nothing more I could do. What would have happened if Mary hadn’t come? Perhaps I should have fought harder. Perhaps it was my fault that he tried to rape me … Men didn’t do that to decent girls, did they? Perhaps it was because of the dress I had worn to Mary’s dance. He had thought I was easy …

  My thoughts had tormented me half the night, and when I did eventually fall asleep I had soon woken again from the nightmare – a nightmare that had grown out of all proportion and now haunted me during the day as well.

  A part of me wanted to shrink away into a dark corner and hide. I felt dirty, used and unworthy somehow. Yet I knew that I mustn’t give way to my feelings of shame. I had to fight them or I would never be able to face life again. My mind wasn’t properly on my work, even though I tried hard to concentrate when people were telling me what they wanted, and I jumped every time the doorbell went, expecting it to be the police.

  What would they do when they discovered Mr Maitland’s body? They were bound to want to find Mary, but she wasn’t in a fit state to talk to them yet. I had gone in to see her before I left for work, but though she was awake and seemed to know me, she hadn’t spoken a word.

  ‘My parents say you can stay here until you feel better,’ I’d told her. ‘And then we’ll help you decide what you want to do, Mary. You don’t need to worry. Everything is being taken care of.’

  She had looked at me blankly. I didn’t know whether she’d heard or understood me, but when my mother brought her a cup of tea and some breakfast she had eaten a few mouthfuls of the bread and honey and drunk all her tea.

  I bought a newspaper on the way to work, scanning it for any mention of Mr Maitland’s death, but there wasn’t even one line. So perhaps the body hadn’t been found yet. It was possible that no one would go near the house. Their housekeeper had left them a week earlier – but I’d forgotten the dogs. The dogs had to be fed. I remembered that they had stopped howling just before I took a tray of tea up to Mary’s room. Someone must have fed them – perhaps it was Mr Maitland himself.

  We had left the tea tray there! Panic swept over me as I wondered if the police would think that was strange, but then I realized they wouldn’t know when the tray had been left there. It could have been before Mary left the house to go to the hospital.

  But what about those dogs? Supposing no one fed them? Their howling was sure to bring someone to investigate – and it might be that Mr Maitland employed a man to go in and feed them.

  My thoughts went round and round in confusion. I felt like a criminal, uneasy and on edge. Lainie looked at me oddly a few times that day, though she didn’t say much until we closed the shop.

  ‘Something is wrong with you, Amy. You’ve been like a cat on hot bricks all day.’

  ‘I’m just anxious about Mary,’ I said, not meeting her eyes. ‘She has taken this badly. She was just lying there this morning, not speaking a word.’

  ‘She’ll get over it,’ Lainie said. ‘Have you opened your parcel yet?’

  ‘I’d forgotten about it.’

  ‘It’s on the dressing table in your room.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll go and have a look.’

  It was an excuse to get away from her suspicious eyes. She knew that I was hiding something, but I didn’t want to tell her the truth. She thought I was a fool for taking Mary home as it was.

  The parcel was oblong in shape and quite heavy. I didn’t recognize the handwriting, though I saw that it had been delivered by special messenger. It was unusual for the people I dealt with for my sewing materials to use a special messenger.

  As the strings fell away I saw that the parcel contained a wooden case. Taking it out, I was surprised at the beauty of the wood, which was highly polished and inlaid with what looked like silver. I opened the lid and discovered that it was an artist’s box with various paints, chalks and pencils. Then I saw a small envelope in the wrappings. It must have been underneath the box.

  Opening it, I read the brief message:

  For a beautiful girl with the soul of an artist. Remember me when you use this.

  I love you, Paul.

  ‘Oh, Paul,’ I whispered and I felt as if I had been punched in the stomach. ‘Oh, Paul …’

  All the anxiety over Mary, the horror of the rape and then the murder and the frantic journey to
my parents’ house had somehow blunted the grief I’d felt over Paul’s death. Now it came back and I lay on the bed sobbing out my grief and my pain.

  After a few minutes the door of my room opened and Lainie came in. She stood by the bed looking down at me for a moment, and then she sat down and held her arms out to me, holding me close as I went into them.

  ‘Shush, love,’ she said as she stroked my hair. ‘You’ll be better for a good cry. You’ve been holding it inside all day, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’ I wished that I could tell her everything, that Paul’s death was only a part of my grief, but it was best that she didn’t know just yet. Perhaps one day when this was all over. ‘Yes, I shall be better for a good cry.’

  In a way Paul’s gift did help me. The storm of tears released some of my tension and the next day I was more able to concentrate on my work.

  Terry came to see me at lunchtime the following day. He took me next door to the pub and bought me a sandwich and a ginger beer, and then gave me a straight look.

  ‘Dad hasn’t told me all of it,’ he said. ‘But I reckon I can fill in the bits that I don’t know. I thought you ought to see this …’ He handed me a newspaper, and at the bottom of the page there were two lines to say that a Mr Philip Maitland had been found shot dead at his home and that the police were looking for witnesses. ‘Dad is going to wait another day or so then he’ll go to the police and tell them Mary is staying with us.’

  ‘Is Mary any different?’

  ‘She got up this morning, but she hasn’t said much. I don’t know what happened, Amy, and maybe it’s best I don’t – but I’ll help in any way I can.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I whispered. ‘Please don’t say anything to Margaret.’

  ‘As if I would – but I think you ought to speak to Matthew.’

  ‘Has he started to work for Dad yet?’

  ‘Yes. He started yesterday, and he was asking after you, Amy. I think he wants to see you.’

  ‘No! I don’t want to see him – not yet.’

  ‘You’ve fallen out with him, haven’t you?’ Terry frowned at me. ‘He’s very cut up over it, Amy. Don’t you think you ought to see him and talk to him? I thought you wanted to marry the man?’