Daughters of Courage

by Margaret Dickinson

  Trip gazed at the face of his lovely wife, her eyes icy with ill-concealed fury. ‘It’s one thing to attempt to kill Nell and me, but quite another to frighten an innocent child. God only knows what he might have done if we hadn’t found her when we did.’

  ‘Thanks to your Josh,’ Trip murmured.

  ‘Well, yes,’ Emily agreed reluctantly. ‘There is that.’ She’d known a little of her brother’s involvement with Mick Dugdale and his gang during the time he’d lived with his family in Sheffield, but not just how deeply he’d been sucked in. If she’d known at the time, she’d have had something to say, but back then she’d been rather naive and trusting. Now, she knew better.

  ‘What will Nell say if you go to the police?’

  ‘As long as I don’t mention Steve – and I won’t, because, luckily, he wasn’t involved except in searching for her – then I don’t think she’ll say anything.’ Emily bit her lip. ‘I wish Steve would give it all up. I mean, he doesn’t look like a gangster. And his home was quite a surprise.’

  Trip chuckled. ‘What does a gangster look like, love? A crooked nose and a scarred face?

  ‘Like Mick Dugdale, you mean?’ she laughed wryly. ‘I suppose that’s how I would think of one, but Steve is very good-looking. But of course you know that. No wonder Nell loves him.’

  ‘She must be very strong-willed to hold out against marrying him.’

  ‘She is.’

  ‘Good for her, I say, but that doesn’t answer my question. I still don’t think she’ll be very happy with you if you go to the police.’

  Emily’s chin went up defiantly. ‘Then that’s a risk I’ll have to take, because if Ben and that farmer are still holding him, the longer we leave it, the more chance he has of escaping – again!’

  Trip rose slowly. ‘Then I’ll come with you.’

  ‘So you do agree that it’s the right thing to do?’

  ‘Certainly, but it’s not necessarily the best thing in the circumstances. Anyway, we’d better go, if we’re going. Ben’ll want to be getting home. We can’t leave him out there any longer than necessary.’

  The police acted swiftly, as soon as Emily reported to them where Mick was being held. When she arrived at work, Emily was surprised to see Nell there. She told her at once what she and Trip had done. Nell nodded and turned away, but not before Emily had seen the determined set of her chin. Emily touched her arm. ‘We didn’t mention Steve. We kept him out of it, Nell. All we told them was that we’d found where Mick had taken her, but you’d better tell Steve that because it’s likely the police will keep an eye on the barn now.’

  Nell nodded, but still did not say anything.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Emily said and she was. ‘But we couldn’t let him go, now could we?’

  This time Nell shook her head, picked up a bunch of spoons and a handful of sand and moved towards her buffing wheel. The conversation – such as it was – was over. Emily watched her colleague and friend as she began her work but this morning, Nell was not singing at her wheel. Emily sighed and moved away. Despite what Steve Henderson was, she had seen another side to him now; the one Nell loved.

  That evening as they were finishing their meal, a knock came at their front door and Emily opened it to see the tall, dark figure of a police sergeant.

  ‘Come in. Would you like a cup of tea?’

  ‘That’d be most welcome, missus. Ta.’

  As he removed his helmet and followed Emily into their living room, Trip got up from his chair in front of the range and held out his hand. ‘Sergeant Crossland, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is, sir, yes. I just thought I should come and tell you, so you’re on your guard, like.’

  Emily and Trip glanced at each other and then turned back to Joe Crossland.

  ‘Unfortunately,’ Joe ran his tongue around his lips, ‘we got there too late. He’d given Ben and the farmer, Mr Portas, the slip. I’m sorry to say that Mick Dugdale is at large again.’

  ‘What!’ Trip and Emily exclaimed together.

  ‘How could that have happened? They were guarding him with guns.’

  Emily covered her mouth fearfully with shaking fingers. ‘He’s not got a gun, has he?’

  ‘No, no,’ Joe Crossland said swiftly. ‘He didn’t manage that, thank goodness.’

  ‘How did he get away from them?’ Trip asked.

  ‘They took him to the farm and he expressed a need to visit the privy. It’s an outside one at Mr Portas’s farm, down the little garden at the back of the house. Well, Ben and the farmer stood by the back door chatting. When they realized he’d been gone a long time, they went to investigate and there he was – gone.’

  ‘But – how! I mean they must have kept watch on the privy, mustn’t they?’

  Joe shrugged. ‘They must have taken their eyes off it and it would only take a second or two for him to slip out and round the back into the bushes and then away across the fields. I don’t think either of them realized just what a slippery character he is.’

  ‘Didn’t they go after him? They must have known roughly what direction he’d gone in.’

  ‘Oh aye, but unfortunately, there’s woodland not far from the farmhouse and once he got into it, there was no hope of finding him.’

  ‘What about a dog? Hasn’t the farmer got a sheepdog?’

  ‘He had, but the poor old thing died about a month ago. He’s got a young puppy, but it needs training. At the moment, Mr Portas said, he’s less than useless.’

  ‘D’you think Mick’ll come back to the city?’

  ‘Not if he’s any sense. I reckon he’ll lose himself in the Smoke. Mind you, if he’s bent on revenge, there’s no knowing what he might do.’ He cleared his throat. ‘We’re gearing ourselves up for street fights. All leave’s been cancelled. I’d warn all your family, friends and work colleagues to stay off the streets at night, just till we get this lot sorted out.’

  ‘Will you, though? It’s been going on a long time now.’

  Joe grinned. ‘Aye it has, far too long. Maybe the general public don’t know, but in May our Chief Constable set up what he calls a Special Duties Squad to deal with the gangs. You mark my words. We’ll soon have our city out of the clutches of these gangsters once and for all. You’ll see.’

  As Trip saw him to the door, he murmured, ‘I hope you’re right, sergeant.’

  Word spread once more through the city that law-abiding folk should keep to their homes after dark.

  ‘It’s like being under a curfew,’ Trip grumbled. ‘I hardly dare walk up the road to the pub on the corner.’

  ‘It’s only for a while,’ Emily said, ‘but I’ve warned Nell. I hope she manages to convince Steve that he should stay out of trouble.’

  Thirteen

  Emily would not have been so hopeful if she had witnessed the scene between Nell and Steve. Nell faced him boldly in his own home. ‘If you start a street war, you’ll be arrested.’

  Steve’s eyes sparked defiance. ‘You really think I’m going to let him get away with kidnapping my daughter and terrifying you?’

  ‘The police will find him. He’ll get his punishment.’

  ‘Huh! I wouldn’t like my life to depend on it.’

  ‘Your life might very well depend on it, Steve,’ Nell said, softly, and tears filled her eyes. That, more than anything, almost undid Steve’s resolve to avenge himself on Mick Dugdale. Nell rarely cried and to see her close to tears moved him more than he’d ever thought possible.

  But still, it was not enough. Three nights after Lucy had been found, Steve and three of his gang members marched into the court off Garden Street armed with cricket bats and knives. They paused briefly outside the house where Steve knew Lizzie and her mother lived.

  ‘Now, no hurting the women, you understand. It’s him we’re after, not them.’

  ‘What if they won’t tell us where he is?’

  ‘Leave that to me,’ Steve said grimly as he tried the door. As they had expected, it was locked but it didn�
��t take many minutes for the door to be smashed and entry gained. As Steve was about to step inside, a shout from behind them made him turn back briefly.

  ‘Oi, what d’you think you’re doin’?’

  Several doors in the buildings surrounding the court had opened and people were peering out to see what else was happening in the Dugdale home, but only one dared to run towards them. Two of Steve’s mates turned to face him, their bats raised.

  ‘S’all right,’ Steve said. ‘It’s only Billy. He lives in the house on the corner. Just hold on to him, but don’t hurt him. He’s not one of Mick’s.’

  As two of his cohorts grabbed Billy and held him firmly, Steve turned away again and stepped through the splintered door to see the two women cowering in the far corner of the kitchen.

  ‘Don’t be frightened, Lizzie, nor you, Mrs Dugdale. We won’t hurt you.’

  ‘You’ve hurt my door, though, you young tearaway,’ Bess said bravely, whilst Lizzie tried to shush her.

  Despite the seriousness of his mission, Steve smiled. It had been a long time since anyone had referred to him by such a mild adjective. The names people called him these days were a lot stronger.

  ‘I’m sorry about that, Mrs Dugdale, but we’re here to find Mick.’

  ‘He’s not here,’ Lizzie said, her voice high-pitched with terror. ‘I swear he’s not.’

  Quietly, Steve turned to the third member of his followers and nodded his head towards the stairs. ‘Just take a look up there, Pete. No more damage, mind. Not this time. And don’t forget to look in the loft, if there is one.’

  Outside the door, Billy had managed to pull himself free and he launched himself through the gap. ‘Don’t you touch Lizzie, Steve, else I’ll bloody well kill you.’

  ‘Calm down, Billy, there’s a good lad. I’ve no quarrel with them.’ His expression hardened. ‘But I have with Mick. He’s going to pay for what he did to my daughter. He frightened her and her mother and I don’t take kindly to that.’

  ‘Just let me go to Lizzie,’ Billy said.

  After a moment’s thought, Steve nodded and Billy went at once to Lizzie and put his arm around her. Lizzie clung to him, her dark eyes still wide and fearful.

  A few moments elapsed whilst they listened to Pete banging about upstairs, but there was no sound of anything breaking. Then he came clattering down the stairs. ‘He’s not here. I checked t’loft an’ all. There’s no sign he’s even been here.’

  ‘He hasn’t, Steve,’ Lizzie said. ‘Honest. He came that one time when he first came back to Sheffield, but we’ve not seen him since.’

  ‘Do you know where he is, though?’

  Both women shook their heads vigorously.

  ‘They wouldn’t tell you if they did, Steve,’ Pete said.

  ‘As a matter of fact, young man,’ Bess said sternly, though she wiped a tear away from her eye, ‘no, I wouldn’t tell you lot, you’re right there, but I would take him by the scruff of his miserable neck to the police station. I threatened it last time, but when he turned up . . .’ She turned her gaze to Steve as if appealing for understanding. ‘I was that glad to see him safe and sound that I forgot me vow. But not any more. He’s overstepped the mark this time. And even though he’s me own flesh an’ blood –’ her voice broke a little – ‘I won’t stand by him no more.’

  For a moment, Steve stared at her and then slowly he nodded and said quietly, ‘I believe you, Mrs Dugdale.’

  But as he turned to leave, Bess caught hold of his arm. ‘Please, Steve, if you find him, don’t – don’t kill him. Please. Give him a good hiding, if you must, but then hand him in to the police. I know it’s not what he deserves, but – but – he’s my lad.’ Now the tears flowed as Bess broke down and wept. ‘He’s my son.’

  Steve hesitated and then he put his arms around the woman and held her. He was realizing that she must feel for Mick exactly what he felt for Lucy. Though he wanted revenge on Mick, wanted to rid the earth of a piece of scum, in that moment he realized he would be no better – was no better – than Mick Dugdale.

  ‘I’ll not kill him, Mrs Dugdale. I promised Nell that, but he might get a good thrashing and run out of town, ’cos we don’t involve the police. You know that.’

  Against his chest, Bess nodded. ‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘I know.’

  The four gang members disappeared as quickly as they had arrived, leaving the two women trembling and a grim-faced Billy muttering, ‘I should have done more. I should have . . .’

  Billy was tall, with short, wiry red hair, strong, broad shoulders and, usually, a warm smile. But, at the moment, he was not smiling.

  ‘Don’t blame yourself, Billy lad. No one’s a match for them four. Not even you. I just shudder to think what will happen when they find Mick.’

  ‘If they find him, Mam,’ Lizzie said. ‘If he’s any sense, he’ll be long gone.’

  When Lizzie didn’t arrive at work at the usual time the following morning, Emily was worried, especially when Nell avoided meeting her gaze, leaned into her machine and refused to say a word.

  Emily sighed. She was due to go out that day to deliver and collect new work so she resolved to call round to the court in Garden Street where she had once lived to see if Lizzie was ill. But she did not tell Nell what she intended to do.

  The day was bright though cold for September, but Emily enjoyed the walk, striding along, her head held high and her lovely face and trim figure attracting admiring glances from menfolk and envy from women. With the finished work delivered, she decided to visit Lizzie before she collected any more.

  The court was little changed; it was still dank and dreary and the constant tapping from the file-maker’s workshop in one corner still rang out. Emily approached number four, the house which the Ryan family had moved into five years earlier and where the Dugdales now lived.

  As she hesitated outside the door, Emily’s mind flew back to the time she had lived there, first with her family and then, for a few months, with Trip after they’d married. She remembered with a shudder coming home one evening to find the house had been trashed, their belongings smashed or torn and scattered everywhere. They’d moved out at once and stayed with Nathan Hawke for a while until they’d been able to move into a house some distance away. Both Trip and Emily believed that Mick Dugdale had been behind the ransacking of their home in Court 8. And then there had been the dreadful fire at Nathan Hawke’s workshop in Broad Lane, endangering Emily and Nell. In retaliation, street fighting between Mick Dugdale’s gang and Steve Henderson’s had broken out. The Dugdales’ house had been trashed, Emily believed, by Steve Henderson’s gang and it seemed as if the warfare would continue. But then Mick had disappeared from the city for almost three years. With his recent return, she feared all the old trouble would flare up once more. Taking a deep breath, Emily knocked on the door that had been repaired with boards since Steve’s assault on it and waited until it opened tentatively and Lizzie’s white face appeared. Seeing who it was, her eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh Emily, come in, but please excuse the mess. We – we’ve been attacked again.’

  ‘Lizzie, no! Are you hurt?’ As Emily stepped through the door into the kitchen she saw the devastation. Broken crockery littered the floor, a stew was spilt and furniture smashed.

  ‘It’s the same upstairs. Only the beds were left untouched. Mam’s lying down. She’s heartbroken. This is the second time it’s happened, Emily. When’s it going to stop?’

  Emily put her arm around her friend’s shoulders, saying gently, ‘When Mick stops making trouble, love.’

  Lizzie’s tears flowed afresh. ‘But we’ve had nothing to do with that. I swear we haven’t, but Steve and his gang came here looking for Mick last night . . .’

  ‘Steve did this?’ Emily was shocked.

  ‘No, no. He didn’t – he didn’t touch anything except the door – but another gang – one of the new ones – came soon after he’d left. They were only boys trying to muscle in on the act and thinking themselves
big men. We were no match for them, Emily. Billy tried to stop them and got a cut lip for his trouble.’

  Emily stared at her in horror. ‘You mean you were here when it happened?’

  Lizzie nodded.

  ‘Did they hurt you or your mam?’

  ‘No, they didn’t touch us. Just – just our things.’ She waved her arm to indicate the destruction.

  ‘Right,’ Emily said, taking off her coat and hat and hanging them on the peg on the wall. ‘Let’s get this place cleaned up. You light a fire in the grate and get the kettle boiling. In fact, run across to Rosa Jacklin’s and see if she’ll make a cup of tea for us.’

  ‘I – daren’t. No one’s speaking to us in the yard. Mam’s been sacked from her job at Mr Farrell’s . . .’ Lizzie nodded towards the file-maker’s workshop.

  ‘What about Billy, surely he’s standing by you?’

  Lizzie smiled weakly. ‘Oh yes,’ she said, with a hint of irony in her tone, ‘there’s always Billy.’

  Billy Nicholson, who lived with his mother in the house in the opposite corner, had been in love with Lizzie for years. Even when she had become infatuated with Josh, he had waited in the wings. Now, it seemed, he had his chance.

  ‘What about his mother? Is she still the buffer missus at Waterfall’s?’ Ruth Nicholson had been the first person to give Emily a job in the buffing shop at the small cutlery firm.

  ‘She’s all right, but I think she’d sooner Billy didn’t have anything to do with us – with me.’

  ‘Billy will never desert you, Lizzie. He loves you,’ Emily said simply. ‘Will Billy or his mam be at home now? I could ask them, if you’d rather.’

  Lizzie shook her head. ‘No, they’ll be at work. I’m sorry I didn’t come in today . . .’ She gestured helplessly towards the wreckage and her shoulders sagged as if, this time, she was utterly defeated.

  ‘Have you any idea at all where Mick’s gone?’

  ‘No, none, and we don’t want to. That’s why Mam’s so upset. It’s not just this, it’s that we both realize it’s over now. Really over. He’s gone for good. We – we’ll never see him again.’ Her voice broke and she sobbed against Emily’s shoulder. ‘I know he was a bad ’un, Emily, but he was Mam’s son and my brother.’