by Marian Phair
Ellen found herself caught up in his arms. The wine glass fell to the floor, spilling its contents, the dark red stain spreading out and soaking into the rug, going un-noticed by the two bodies locked in a tight embrace on the couch.
The very next day, Ellen had done his bidding. Dr Sam had pointed out Enrico Garcia to her, being careful not to be seen as he did so.
Ellen dressed, in her most provocative outfit, a tight fitting, low cut red silk blouse and an equally tight fitting black skirt, which ended just above her knees. She had brushed her hair until it shone, clipping it back behind her ears, to hang loosely down her back. She applied a light dusting of powder to her face, then mascara to her lashes, finishing off with a bright red lipstick. Satisfied with her reflection, she left her apartment and made her way to the Sailor’s Rest, the waterfront bar frequented by Enrico.
Enrico Garcia was sitting at the bar, a glass of beer in front of him, when Ellen slid onto the barstool next to his and ordered a drink. Taking her cigarettes out of her handbag, she withdrew one from the packet, and then tapped him gently on the arm.
“Excuse me, do you have a light?” she asked him in Spanish, leaning over to give him a better view of her ample bosom. Enrico turned, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her, and a broad grin spread over his face.
He held a lit cigarette out to her and Ellen placed her hand over his, in the pretence of holding it steady, lighting her own cigarette from his, aware of his eyes on her bosom.
It had been easy to draw him into conversation and to get him to buy her drinks. Ellen sipped hers slowly, making them last as long as possible, she was already on her third, and knew she had to keep a clear head. Enrico was downing two, to her one, the drink making him bolder.
When he tried to fondle her breasts in the bar, Ellen slapped his hand away, and said she fancied some fresh air. They left the bar together, looking for a suitable spot on the beach, but there were too many people around, some walking their dogs, others just strolling arm in arm together.
Ellen let him put his arms around her and kiss her, before pulling away from him. She had to play this game carefully for the plan to work.
“We can’t do anything here, there are too many people around, and I want you so badly,” she told him. “We will have to find somewhere else.”
They made their way back to the bar, where Ellen managed to sneak him into the ladies toilet, locking the door behind them. In the confined space, they managed to have sex together.
Ellen insisted Enrico wore a condom, providing it herself. She watched as he fitted it over his huge erect penis, before turning round and positioning herself over the toilet seat, allowing him to enter her from behind.
When it was over, he removed the condom, tying a knot in the end. Before he could dispose of it, down the toilet, she took it from him.
“I will get rid of it in the bin outside, if you put it down the toilet, it might block it up. You go out first and wait for me in the bar, but be careful, we don’t want anyone seeing you leaving the ladies toilet and I will join you in a minute or two.”
When he had gone, Ellen carefully placed the condom, complete with its contents, into the small plastic bag Dr Sam had given her and popped it into her purse. She straightened her clothing, and washed her hands at the sink, drying them on a paper towel.
Ellen had noticed a small window in the wall opposite the door they had entered by. This could be useful; she went over to check it out.
It was large enough for her to squeeze through but she would need to stand on something in order to reach it. Pulling the waste bin over to the window, she hitched up her skirt and carefully climbed up on it.
Balancing precariously on top, she managed to open the window and pull herself through the opening. She clung to the ledge, before dropping lightly down onto the grass below.
Stealthily, she moved away into the gathering darkness of the night.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Millie went in search of her mistress, leaving Peter in the dining room with Charlie and Jimmy. Melissa was not in her apartment, so Millie went down the stairs, checking each room as she went. Judging by the state Melissa had been in when Dr Sam had taken her off to his clinic to attend to her injuries, she would not be far away. She would have one hell of a hangover to sleep off.
“I can’t find her anywhere” Millie told Charlie when she finally returned to the dining room, “Do you think she is still at the clinic?”
“Nah, Dr Sam said, “‘e’d drive ‘er ‘ome after ‘e’d tidied ‘er up a bit I expect she’s sprawled out somewhere,” Charlie said, asking, “‘ave yer looked in the garden?”
“No not yet,” Millie replied, “Melissa isn’t really one for sitting in the garden, let alone doing any gardening, she hates it.”
Jimmy went over to the telephone, the winking light indicating messages had been left on the answer machine. There were three messages. He hit the button and the producer Gregory Hines voice was heard saying,
‘Hi guys, I am throwing a party for the entire crew at the weekend. It’s at the Waterfront Restaurant at eight pm, be there or be square.’
The second message was from the local garage, informing them the new part for the limo’s exhaust had arrived. Then Ellen Rodriguez voice came on.
‘Olla, Ms Melissa Proctor asked me to contact you, to let you know she is going away for a few days to try and sort herself out. She wants you to know she is sorry for her bad behaviour, and feels she needs some time to herself, away from everything and everyone. She will be in touch in a few days and wants Millie to take care of Peter. Tell Peter his mummy will be home soon and will bring him a present.’
“Well, that settles that then,” Jimmy said, as he erased the messages on the machine, “we will all get some peace and quiet for a few days at least.”
Charlie snorted, “that’s bloody typical ‘ov Mel, ain’t it eh?” He pulled a chair up to the table, settling his large bulk into it before continuing,
“Can’t do ‘er own dirty work, she ‘as to get ‘ovver folk to do it for ‘er.”
Millie sat Peter at the table. “Let’s see what Jose has prepared for our dinner shall we?” she asked him. She lifted the lid off the nearest dish and uncovered slices of ham and cold cuts of beef. Under another cover, were slices of tomato sprinkled with basil, various cheeses, black olives, fresh bread rolls and pats of butter, completed the meal they all sat down to.
They sat eating in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Glancing at Peter, Millie watched as he toyed with the food on his plate. She knew he was missing Amie, and did her best to cheer him up. He managed a weak half-smile when she attempted to tickle him, pulling away from her.
When Charlie had given her the letter from Amie, Millie fled to her room in a flood of tears. Amie was more than a friend. Millie looked on her as a dear sister and she would miss her terribly. Charlie had yet to give Millie the details as to why Amie had left in such a hurry, she had no idea what story had been told to Melissa about Amie’s sudden disappearance. Millie had said a prayer for her dear friends safe keeping, dried her eyes and got on with her duties. Now, looking at Peter’s little sad face, she wondered what she could do to make him smile again.
“Shall we go to the beach tomorrow, just the two of us?” she asked him, “Charlie and Jimmy will be at the film site, we could have a picnic on the beach and you could bring your beach ball.” He looked up at her with tear filled eyes, “can we ride on the bus, and can I build a sandcastle?” Millie nodded her head in agreement but the expression on his face remained unchanged.
“But you have to be a good boy and eat your dinner,” she told him, “You have to have strong legs to kick a beach ball.” Reaching over to pick up his discarded fork, she stuck it into a piece of beef offering it up to his mouth. Reluctantly, Peter opened his mouth, allowing her to feed him.
“Good boy, now you finish eating what is on your plate, and I will go and see if Jose has any ice cream.”
Later, as Millie settled Peter down for the night, she wondered what his life would turn out to be, when the time came for all of them to part. Peter would be left in the care of his alcoholic mother, and his father would be off to God knows where. Looking down at his small form as he lay sleeping, one hand tucked under his head, his long eye lashes resting on his little rosy cheeks, her heart went out to him. She knelt at his bedside in supplication,
“Holy Mary, look down upon this child, take him under your wing, and give him your love and protection, and, do the same for my dear friend Amie. In the name of our saviour Jesus Christ, Amen.” Blessing herself she stood up, leaving the room and the sleeping child, closing the door softly behind her.
Meanwhile, back at his residence, Dr Samuel Morrison entered his spare bedroom and quickly made his way across to the bedside table, in the half light; he could make out the still form of Melissa Proctor lying where he had left her on the bed.
He placed his medical bag on the floor and switched on the bedside light, then carefully removed the prepared syringe from the bag. As he approached the bed, he thought he detected a movement in the bound and gagged form or maybe, it was just a trick of the light.
He was leaning over Melissa, ready to inject the sedative into her arm when suddenly, her eyes opened wide. Startled, he stood for a moment transfixed.
Melissa blinked, screwing up her eyes in the glare of the lamp, then seeing the syringe in his hand, her eyes filled with terror. She tried to move away from him, making small animal noises behind the tape across her mouth.
In a flash he was upon her, pinning her down and jabbing the needle into her arm, pressing home the plunger. Within seconds, he felt her body relax underneath him. The telephone rang in the next room, startling him, as he dropped the used syringe into his bag. He waited with baited breath and after four rings it stopped. Breathing a sigh of relief, Dr Sam turned to the bedside and released Melissa’s bound hands and feet. He then carefully removed the tape from her mouth, placing all the bindings into the pocket of his jacket.
He checked the palm of her injured hand, to make sure the stitches he had placed earlier were still intact. Satisfied he had left nothing to chance, he was mindful to keep covering his tracks and to leave no evidence of her disappearance that could lead back to him. In a matter of hours she would be dead, if all went according to plan and Enrico Garcia would be arrested for her murder.
He smiled as he gathered up her unconscious body and made his way out of the room to put phase two of his plan into action. Placing her body on the back seat of the Jaguar, he covered it with a travel rug, before returning to the guest room for his medical bag. A swift glance around the room satisfied him; nothing looked out of place so he switched off the bedside lamp, crossed the room and closed the door behind him.
The used syringe had gone unnoticed where it had fallen, lying partly under the bed.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The days passed by, one just the same as the next. Amie knew she had to get away or go crazy. Yesterday Teresa, who slept next to Amie, had another one of her seizures. Teresa had been forced against her will to sign a document, giving up all rights to her baby. The nuns then placed her baby into adoption.
Over the past few weeks the two had become close friends.
After lights out that night the two women plotted Amie’s escape from the Magdalene.
It was the end of February, the frost had almost gone. The recent rainfall had melted the snowdrifts that lay over the country, and weak sunlight filtered through the clouded sky.
That morning Teresa was on kitchen duties. When Sister Mary’s back was turned, she slipped into the larder and quickly grabbed a small wedge of cheese and some soda bread, secreting it amongst her clothing. Peeking through the crack in the door she made sure it was safe to emerge unseen, then carried on with her chores until the bell went, calling them to the dining room for their daily gruel. Under cover of the table, she slipped the items she had stolen to Amie. They were both on laundry duty that afternoon and for their plan to succeed it would take split second timing, lots of luck, and the co-operation of the other women in the laundry.
Amie concealed the soda bread and the cheese in her pillowcase along with the baby’s silver hairbrush and comb, and hid it among the soiled dormitory linen she was taking to the laundry. They went about their chores under the watchful eye of the nuns.
It was mid afternoon before the van engine was heard as it turned into the yard at the rear of the laundry. Amie, her pulses racing, edged closer to the door carrying the soiled linen. She watched the nun on duty from under her lowered lashes, as she removed a key from the bunch on her belt and unlocked the door to allow the laundry men passage.
With a loud cry, drawing attention to herself, Teresa went into her act, falling to the floor, arms and legs thrashing around, having another one of her ‘seizures’. Both nuns on duty quickly went to her aid, the novice leaving her post by the door as the first of the two men entered with a sack of dirty laundry. His companion took the opportunity for a quick smoke and leaning against the driver’s door he lit up a cigarette. Meanwhile the women crowded around the nuns who were trying to control the thrashing body on the floor.
Dropping the soiled linen, and clutching the soiled pillowcase to her, Amie slipped around the open door. Keeping close to the wall on her left to avoid being seen by the smoker, she hastily made her way round the building to the front entrance, praying the gates had been left open for the laundry van. She was in luck, the gates were opened wide.
Breathing heavily her heart pounding in her chest, she crossed the driveway, making for the open gates as fast as her bulky body would allow, expecting at any moment to hear a cry of alarm and running footsteps behind her. Not daring to look back to see if she was being followed, she headed off to her right, to where the pathway led through the wood she had walked, on her journey here. She reached the outskirts of the wood unhindered; only slowing her pace once she was in amongst the trees.
She stopped to catch her breath, holding her side, almost bent double with the pain. Seeing an old moss covered half-rotted log, she sat down for a few moments to catch her breath.
She knew she had to keep going, God only knew where. As long as it was as far from the Magdalene as possible she did not care, she had not thought that far ahead. Taking a few more deep breaths, she set off, a half-plan forming in her mind. The wet ground was slippery under her feet, as slowly and carefully she made her way down the wooded pathway, the smell of the damp earth, and rotting vegetation filling her nostrils, the odd twig cracking underfoot. Amie realised there was only one place she could go to ask for help. She made her weary way along the road to O’Reilly public house.
Tim O’Reilly sat quietly listening to Amie as she related the events of the past weeks, a look of disbelief on his face as he learned of the cruelty, the abuse, and near starvation that went on behind the closed walls of the convent. Seeing this look Amie faltered her voice barely above a whisper.
“You don’t believe me do you?” she said.
“I don’t disbelieve you Amie,” Tim replied, “I have heard a few other stories in my time, regarding the convent.” Leaning closer to her, he reached out taking her hands in his, “I’m a Catholic, brought up to obey without question whatever the priest told me, do you understand that. He cleared his throat before continuing, “I have always had the greatest respect for the nuns, and the good work they do. But finding out now they are not all of them, sweetness and light, it’s a bit of a shock to me to say the least.”
“Yes,” said Amie, “I guess it would be a shock to a good many people, there is good and bad in every walk of life.” She looked down at her hands, tightly clasped in his, not looking at him as she told him about the babies, taken from their mothers with or without their consent. They were taken at birth by the nuns, who then handed them over for adoption.
“I intend to keep my baby, no matter what, I had to get away don’t you see?,” she said,
looking up at him, her eyes pleading with him to understand, “this was the deciding point for me, the closer I get to giving birth, the more terrified I have become.”
He turned his head away from the look of utter despair on her face, telling her, “you realise they will be searching for you even as we speak.” He felt a great pity for the forlorn creature sitting in front of him, her hands now clasped tightly in her lap, her teeth chewing at her bottom lip.
“I don’t think they will miss me just yet, if at all, let alone go searching for me,” she replied.
Tim cleared his throat, attempting to rid it of the lump that had appeared, his eyes welling up, the tears threatening to spill out onto his craggy cheeks, as he fought to get his emotions under control, “what did you think I could do lass?.”
Amie’s cheeks reddened as she looked first at his face, then down at the floor, unable to meet his gaze. “I was hoping you could lend me enough money to get me back to Fermanagh, I have friends there, they have a farm on the shores of Lough Erne and I am sure they would help me.” She looked up at him to find he was staring intently at something behind her head.
“Of course I will repay you as soon as I am able,” she added, turning her head to see what was holding his attention.
It was a picture of a Lough, with hills in the background and she knew instinctively it was the Erne. She sat quietly, waiting for him to speak, wondering if he had heard her, knowing she would not have the courage to repeat her request.
A log in the fireplace spat out a cluster of sparks as the flames licked at the resin. The sound brought Tim out of his reverie and with a sigh he turned his attention back to the woman seated before him, “of course I will help you, how could I refuse Jimmy’s granddaughter anything.”
Leaning forward, he again took her hands, enclosing them in his own, “I only wish the car was on the road, I would drive you the whole ninety miles myself, unfortunately the track rods have gone on the car and there is no one I could ask to take you. I will give you the money, no need to repay it, ‘tis the least I can do for you.” Releasing her hands he stood up saying, “wait here, I’ll be back shortly,”