by Anna Jacobs
“Em’ly!” When John spoke in that tone of voice, even Emily fell silent.
“Come again, lass. It’s allus nice to see you,” he told Annie as he stood in the doorway. “She’s not feelin’ so well just now,” he added in a whisper.
Annie kissed her father goodbye and left the house. Poor Dad! He wasn’t getting a lot of joy from his second marriage. Emily was becoming a shrew and was increasingly slatternly in her ways. How could her dad stand it?
Annie had intended to go along to Number Seven, where she knew Sam would have made her welcome, though Elizabeth had not been very friendly since she and Matt had started walking out together, but on an impulse she called in at Number Six instead. She had not seen Sally for ages.
Matt didn’t really like her associating with a woman like Sally. He fussed a lot about respectability and Annie blamed that on his mother. Elizabeth Peters thought herself a cut above everyone else in the street and had talked frequently lately about finding a better place to live. Annie didn’t blame her for that; she couldn’t understand why the Peters hadn’t left already. After all, Sam thought the world of Dr Lewis and his employer felt the same about him, so Sam’s job was safe.
Annie smiled to herself at the thought of Matt. Dear Matt! Where was he now? What was he doing? She wished he were here. No, she didn’t! She was glad he was in Liverpool, glad he was getting some good experience, glad that Mr Hallam and his overseer, Benson, were singling him out for attention.
Sally opened the door, her face wreathed in smiles. “Annie, love! Well, I never! Come in, come in! I’ve just got t’kettle on.” Her house was a haven of warmth and comfort, its floor cleaner than Emily’s tabletop.
Sally was getting plumper and had begun to dye her hair yellow to hide the grey. She had lost some of the colour in her cheeks, as women did when they grew older and now used rouge when ‘my Harry’ was expected. He still came to see her as regularly as ever and she seemed to live very comfortably.
“You’ve got new curtains, I see, Sally.”
“Yes. The others was gettin’ worn, so my Harry brought me some material. He knows I like to keep the place nice.”
“Yes, you always did keep it nice. I love coming here.”
Sally beamed with pleasure. She bustled round, brewing a pot of tea and setting out a plate of drop scones. Annie sat back and relaxed. What a difference to Number Three! Respectability didn’t give you peace of mind! Or even a clean house.
“Missin’ your Matt, are you?”
“Yes. Yes, I am.”
“Well, he’ll not be away much longer. And one man’s loss is another man’s gain, as they say. You wouldn’t’ve had time to visit me if he’d been around. Oh, don’t look so bedithered! I know how it is! You can’t blame him for wantin’ his girl to keep respectable company.”
“You’re respectable enough for me, Sally. And I shan’t stop being friends with you, whatever happens. Not for Matt, not for anyone. Besides, you’ve been with your Harry for – how long is it, now? – ten years? That’s near enough respectable for me.”
“It must be ten years.” Sally laughed comfortably. “He’s a nice man. I’ve been very lucky.”
“He’s lucky, too.”
Sally blinked away a tear. “Get on with you, Annie Gibson! Now, tell me what you’ve been doin’. I’m real glad that you’ve got to be a lady’s maid. If anyone deserves to get on, it’s you. Your mam would be that proud of you. An’ just look at that dress! You look a proper picture in it. A bit peaky, though. You feelin’ all right?”
No one in Number Three had noticed how she was looking. “Oh, it’s just a cold. I’m over the worst now.”
They chatted comfortably until it was time for Annie to return to Park House. She decided that she would come and visit Sally more often, no matter what Matt said. Why were people so against Sally? She was clean and kind, worth more than a slattern like Emily any day of the week!
It was dark outside. She had stayed longer than she meant to at Sally’s. It had snowed again during the afternoon, covering the frozen slush and making walking a hazardous business, and the wind had risen. She shivered and pulled her cloak more tightly around her, wishing she had Matt to walk her back. She’d have felt warm and safe with his arm around her shoulders. Carefully she picked her way along Salem Street and down Boston Street. There were few people around.
As she was passing the end of Florida Terrace, her head down against the driving snow, she bumped into someone. She started to apologise and tried to step aside.
“Well, if it ain’t Miss Annie Gibson!” a voice exclaimed and a hand shot out to grab her arm.
She cried out in fright. She’d know that voice anywhere, even though she’d never expected to hear it again. As usual, Fred Coxton reeked of gin.
“Let go of me!” she said, pulling in vain. “My Matt told you to leave me alone!”
“But your Matt isn’t here, is he? Your Matt’s in Liverpool an’ they tell me he won’t be back for weeks.” He leaned over her, pawing at her with his free hand.
She was terrified now. “But he will be back!” she cried. “He’ll be back soon.” She struggled to get away. Snow whirled into her face and the wind shrieked derisively.
Fred took a quick glance up and down the street. There was no one in sight. He stood for a moment, swaying slightly, his desire roused by the soft warm curves he’d felt under the cloak. Suddenly, decision taken, he clapped a hand over her mouth and began to drag her along Florida Terrace towards the warrens of Claters End. Half-suffocating under the hand, Annie fought desperately to free herself. Why did no one come to her help? She tried to bite his hand, but he didn’t even seem to notice. She kicked out and felt him stumble as she caught him on the shin. The hand slipped from her mouth for a moment and she screamed as loudly as she could, but the wind was howling more loudly than she ever could and there was no one around to see her plight.
Angrily Fred hit her on the head and clapped his hand over her mouth again. For a minute or two she lay limply against him, partly stunned by the blow, then she started struggling again. She might as well have saved her efforts. The few blows that landed seemed to make no impression on him, and he laughed hoarsely in her ear. “I’m goin’ to enjoy takin’ Matt Peters’ woman,” he said and chuckled as this remark panicked her into a frenzy of useless struggling.
He kicked open the door of a house and dragged her in with him. He seemed to know the way without a light, because he pulled her across the room and dropped her on to a bed. Nearly demented with terror, she redoubled her efforts to escape and screamed as loudly as she could. He hit her on the head again. She bit him and scratched him, but he pulled off his neckerchief and tied it round her mouth to gag her cries. Still holding her hands, he felt about on the floor and swore as he didn’t find what he sought. For a moment his grip slackened and she tore herself away from him, but he caught her skirt and pulled her back. She tore the gag down and screamed again. A voice in the next room shouted out to keep that whore quiet and this time Fred did.
Methodically he tied her arms and gagged her again. He then tore the front of her dress open and slobbered over her breasts. She could do no more than whine in her throat and he paid no attention to that. She prayed to faint, but she didn’t. Vomit rose in her throat and she nearly choked on it, but she stayed conscious. He rolled off her for a moment and came back minus his trousers. Quickly and happily he lifted her skirts and raped her. Even the pain of that didn’t make her faint. Why didn’t she faint? Why didn’t she die? How could this be happening to her?
Then Fred started again, for he was a man noted for his sexual prowess. This time he worked more slowly and his proddings and gropings seemed to go on and on and on. He hurt her and used her as she had never imagined possible. When she tried to sob she could only make stifled, whining noises in her throat, and he just laughed at that. When tears of pain and terror poured down her face, that too seemed to amuse him.
After he had finished for a s
econd time, he put his mouth close to her ear and said slowly and distinctly, “Don’t forget to tell your Matt everything what I done to you. He won’t like that, won’t Mr Spick an’ Span. Bleedin’ cissie, he is, allus washin’ his hands! When he lost me my job, I said I’d get even. I reckon I’m ahead with this. Nice little bit of stuff, you are!” And he started to handle her body, hurting her purely for the pleasure of seeing her wince and writhe about. It took him a while to get roused again, then he held her legs apart and the painful thrusting started again. This time, the grunting, jerking animal on top of her didn’t stop for an eternity.
Then, quite suddenly, he rolled off her and to her amazement, he began almost immediately to snore. She lay there for a moment, still weeping, then, as she realised that this might be her only chance to escape, she tried to pull herself together. She pulled cautiously at her bonds, but she couldn’t loosen them. Her arms were numb, so tightly was she bound. The movement roused him and he muttered something. She froze and, after what seemed like hours, he started snoring again.
She lay there in despair worse than anything she had felt in her whole life, then stiffened as she heard steps outside the door. The wind must have dropped. Perhaps if she could get this gag out, she could shout for help. She rolled her head from side to side, but in vain. The filthy material was tied so tightly it was cutting into her and all that came out was a gurgle of sound. Voices muttered and a woman laughed, then someone fumbled with the latch and the door opened. They couldn’t see her because it was pitch dark and she had to lie there, helpless and ashamed, as they fumbled to light a candle. They didn’t notice her at first, then the man gave a muffled exclamation.
“What the bloody hell’s that?”
The woman brought the candle over to the bed and they both peered down at Annie.
“Wouldn’t mind a bit of that meself,” said the man. “All laid out nice and ready, it is.”
Annie could only look at them and plead mutely with her eyes. The man stretched out his hand and the woman slapped it away.
“Oh, no, you don’t! You come here with me an’ I need the money. You’re not gettin’ it free. Besides, the poor bitch’s had enough. You can see that. Fred’s a devil when he’s on the jump.” She laughed and strutted up and down. “Now me, I’m ready to go! I’ll give you far more fun than she ever could.”
The man was distracted. He echoed her laugh and turned back to paw at her, but she held him off for a moment.
“What’s the matter now?”
“I’m just goin’ t’let that poor bitch go.”
“He’ll kill you, if he finds out.”
“He won’t find out if you don’t tell him. He’s out cold. I know him. He don’t wake for hours after he’s been on the booze. I’ll just tell him she’d gone when we got back.”
“Why bother lettin’ her go? She won’t get in our way an’ he might want her again.”
Annie could feel tears running out of her eyes and she tried her hardest to will them to let her go.
The woman sighed. “I don’t know, dearie. I must be gettin’ soft in me head. But it just don’t seem right to leave her lyin’ there like that while we ’ave our little bit of fun. Besides, she’s still cryin’. She didn’t come willing, you can see that. He’s give her a right old thump or two.”
After a while the woman managed to persuade the man, so she came over quickly to Annie and untied the ropes. Trembling uncontrollably and unable to stand at first for the pins and needles in her arms and legs, Annie covered herself as best she could with her torn clothes. When she could manage to walk, she stumbled towards the door. She tried to thank her rescuer, but couldn’t speak for her chattering teeth.
The woman gave her a shove. “Go on!” she said, with rough friendliness. “Get out of the town, if you can. If Fred fancies you an’ you don’t fancy him, you’d be best gettin’ right away from Bilsden. Nasty bastard, he can be! Find yourself another pitch and a strong chap to protect you this time.”
Annie stood outside in the darkness, oblivious to the icy wind and the snow, and tried to stop herself from having hysterics. More by instinct than by reasoning, she got her bearings and made her way back to Park House through the deserted streets. If she could only get in without being seen, Ellie would help her. Mrs Lewis must never know! No one must ever know, except for Ellie. She could trust Ellie.
It was just after midnight when she got there. She stood and sobbed, because the house was dark and locked up for the night. She didn’t dare knock on the door and show herself in this condition. Like an injured animal, her one instinct was to hide and tend her wounds. She caught sight of a light in the doctor’s surgery and stumbled towards it. He often worked late. Perhaps she could slip in that way without his hearing her.
Slowly, carefully, she turned the knob and pushed open the outer door, breathing a sigh of relief when she found it unlocked. It opened silently and she held her breath as she listened. Smothering the sobs that still threatened to burst from her throat, she closed the door slowly, terrified of betraying her presence. She tiptoed across the room, her one thought to get upstairs to Ellie.
And then, just as she thought she was safe, the door to the doctor’s room opened unexpectedly and Jeremy Lewis came out, murmuring something to himself and holding a lamp in his hand. They both stopped dead at the sight of each other.
“My God! Annie! What’s happened?”
Her hand flew to her mouth in a child’s gesture of pain and hurt and she began to cry quietly and hopelessly. The cloak dropped to one side and he took in her torn clothing and bruised face.
He put the candle down and moved towards her, speaking gently, realising that she was near hysterics. “What happened, Annie? Who did this to you? Oh, Annie, Annie!” The trim, pretty girl of the morning was barely recognisable in this white-faced, trembling creature. He ached at her pain and, without thinking, he made as if to take her in his arms. She flinched from his touch, flinched as if he were going to hit her, and he promised himself that whoever had done this should be found and punished.
“Come into my surgery,” he urged, still gently. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to, but you need help. You’ve a cut on your head and who knows what else.”
She followed him in and sat huddled on a chair in front of the fire, still shivering and whimpering to herself. He poured out a glass of brandy, but when he offered it to her, she made no attempt to take it from him, just sat there, gazing numbly at him. She hadn’t spoken a word yet.
“You must take some,” he said, with all the authority he could muster. “You’re suffering from shock. Take it and drink some. It’ll help.”
She stared at him, as if he had spoken in a foreign language and she hadn’t understood a word, but when he held the glass out again, she took it from him and, after a further pause, took a gulp. She coughed and choked and was suddenly sick, retching and retching, though there was little in her stomach but bile.
As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he wiped up the mess and got her another glass of brandy and water. And then she started crying again, sobbing in that quiet, hopeless way that distressed him unbearably.
“Tell me about it, Annie. Tell me what happened. Perhaps I can help.”
Between gulping sobs, she told him how Fred Coxton had dragged her back to his room and raped her. Her voice faltered as she tried to put into words the terror of that night, the degradation of his touch and her present feelings that she would be dirty for ever more. By the time she had finished, she was sobbing despairingly.
He took her limp hand and said, “Oh, Annie!” very softly and she saw that he too had tears in his eyes. This time she did not flinch from his touch.
“We must get you cleaned up,” he said at last. “And in the morning we’ll inform a magistrate …”
“No! No!” she cried, pulling away, panic in her eyes.
“Why ever not? That brute can’t be allowed to get away with such an assault. I’ll go and
fetch Mrs Lewis now and we’ll …”
“No!” This time her voice was even sharper.
He looked at her in puzzlement.
“I don’t want anyone to know,” she managed at last, “no one except Ellie, and most of all, not Mrs Lewis! Oh, please, please, don’t tell them, doctor! I’ll die if anyone finds out. And I’ll be turned off, I know I will!”
“But it wasn’t your fault!”
“That wouldn’t matter,” she said dully. “If anyone knew, they’d say – they’d say I wasn’t respectable any more. No one would take me on as a servant, least of all as a lady’s maid.”
“I’m sure you’re wrong!”
“I’m not! And if you think about it, you’ll realise I’m not! You know what Mrs Lewis is like. Please, doctor! This is my only chance of keeping my job!”
He was silent for a moment, unwilling to believe that she could be right, unwilling to admit to himself that her words carried a conviction that was frightening. Would people really penalise the victim of this crime? Would Annabelle … Yes, she would! Of course she would. And so would other people.
She could see him wavering and pressed her advantage. “And if you take it to a magistrate, sir, you’ll not get a conviction. There are no witnesses, you see. And I’m only a servant. They’ll say I encouraged him.”
He shook his head.
“Yes, they will, sir! You know they will!”
His shoulders slumped. “It’s wicked to let him get away with it.”
“He won’t get away with it!”
“Oh?”
“No, sir. I’ve got a young man, Ellie’s brother. He’s away just now, or I’d not have had to walk back alone. But when he comes back, he’ll …” Her voice broke at the thought of Matt.
“I didn’t know that you had a young man. I’m glad for you, though I suppose it means you’ll be leaving us soon to get married.”
“Oh, no, sir. He can’t get married for years. We need to save our money. Matt wants to make something of himself.” Talking of Matt helped more than anything, though she didn’t know how she was going to tell him about this. It made the world seem more normal again, made her feel that everything was not spoiled, that there was some hope after all.