Forget-Me-Not Child

by Anne Bennett

  All of a sudden Angela was blisteringly angry. ‘How dare you harass and assault me this way. That money was earned honestly so please return it to me and move out of my way and let me pass. What if I was to scream?’

  ‘I wouldn’t suggest you do that, lady,’ said the first man. ‘See we’re professional soldiers and we know how to silence people.’

  ‘Are you threatening me?’ Angela asked as a sense of unease flowed through her.

  ‘Take it how you like, but you be nice to us and no one gets hurt,’ the first one said. ‘All we want is only what you’ve been doing all night anyway for mugs what pay. We’re taking it for free, that’s all, cos we don’t pay for sex.’

  ‘You’ve got it all wrong,’ Angela protested, but got no further. One of them pulled a dirty hanky out of his pocket and tied it so tight around her mouth it cut into the sides and as she protested, he growled, ‘Too much talking, lady. We want action.’

  Another tied her hands behind her back with a bit of string and she was dragged struggling into a nearby entry, hearing buttons pop off her coat and the tear of her dress as she fought like a tiger, throwing her head from side to side, kicking out and suddenly the string tying her wrists loosened and she began wriggling one hand free.

  The man who had spoken to her initially was the one to take his turn with her first and she felt nausea rise in her, for apart from the shame and degradation, the man stank and his putrid breath smelled of stale beer and cigarettes and possibly rotting teeth and even in the dimness she could see the vivid red scar that ran the length of his creased cheek. And then one hand was free and she attacked him with her nails, scoring deep scratch lines down his face.

  With a howl of rage he turned her round and pushed her face against the bricks and re-tied her hands so tight the string cut into her skin and she moaned with the pain of it. ‘Shut up, you stupid bitch,’ the man said. ‘I haven’t started yet. I warned you, I said to be nice to us and what you did was not nice at all.’

  Angela began to tremble as the man grasped her by the shoulders and swung her round, throwing her against the wall, her head hitting it with such force she almost lost consciousness. And before she had time to recover from that he aimed a punch at her face and she felt her nose spurt with blood and the second punch closed one eye completely. She wasn’t aware of much after that. Her coat was open because it had lost so many buttons and the man took hold of her dress and ripped it straight down the middle and the petticoat the same and then pulled at her knickers till they fell to the floor. ‘Now spread your legs, bitch,’ he snarled but Angela seemed incapable of even understanding what he was saying so he kicked them open. ‘Oh I’m going to enjoy this,’ he cried.

  Angela only felt the pain of it though she was drifting in and out of consciousness as one after the other had their way with her. When the last one finished she sank to the ground. She was in agony, her body was on fire and the first man aimed a kick and when his army boot powered into her abdomen she curled into a ball groaning with pain so intense she wanted to die.

  She wasn’t sure how long she lay there in too much pain and too frightened to move, but she knew she had to move or Mary would be worried enough to send out a search party. Getting up was a major undertaking but after several attempts, eventually, she was on her feet, bent over because of the kick and staggering despite balancing herself on the wall.

  Her home was only yards away, but it took a long, long time to get there and she stumbled and nearly lost her footing often. She almost fell through the door and Mary who was tending the fire looked up. Her mouth dropped open. ‘Almighty Christ!’ she cried, throwing down the poker and darting to Angela who was sagging on the doorstep. ‘What in God’s name happened to you?’ she asked again as she helped her to the settee.

  Angela told the astounded Mary what had happened to her when she had nearly reached home and safety and Mary was shocked to the core and said it was a dreadful thing to have happened, absolutely dreadful and she wanted to inform the police, immediately. ‘No men should get away with this,’ she declared.

  ‘I agree,’ Angela said speaking with difficulty because of her smashed nose and a split lip. ‘Yet they will, because I don’t want to tell the police. It would be all round the neighbourhood in no time at all and what if someone thought Barry should know? Can you imagine how he would feel to hear about me violated like that and him not here to protect me? Don’t you think he has enough to deal with without this worry on his mind?’

  And the devil of it was that Angela was absolutely right and her abusers would walk the streets to do it again to some other young woman. Mary got a bowl of warm water and began to tend Angela’s face. ‘We must put it behind us,’ she said. ‘For if we cannot do that they will have won.’

  ‘Huh, haven’t they done that already?’

  ‘No I don’t think so,’ Mary said. ‘They abused your body. Don’t let them have your mind as well.’

  Angela sighed and said, ‘I do see what you’re saying and I will do my best, but I can’t promise not to be nervous walking home on my own in the dark now, though that has never bothered me before. The best of it is Mr Potter offered me a taxi home and I refused it. I think I’ll say a resounding “yes” next time.’

  When Mary had done what she could for Angela’s face she left her eating a bowl of stew she had warmed up for her and went to tell Maggie that she wouldn’t be at work. ‘What excuse shall I give?’

  ‘If you can get Maggie on her own, you can tell her the truth,’ Angela said.

  Mary did get Maggie on her own and she came back to the house with her. She was as appalled as Mary had been when Angela told her the whole tale and quite understood why she didn’t want the authorities alerted. ‘The point is they have made quite a mess of your face and you will need a few days off till your face is more or less back to normal. You can’t come to work like that.’

  ‘What will you say is wrong with me?’

  ‘That you’ve had a bad fall down the cellar steps,’ Maggie said. There was a pause and then Maggie added quietly, ‘Angela have you had any thoughts on what you will do if there are consequences?’

  ‘Dear God, don’t wish that on me,’ Angela cried. ‘Dealing with the memory of the whole thing is enough for me just now.’

  ‘Sorry, Angela,’ Maggie said. ‘You are right. And should the worst happen we will cross that bridge when we come to it.’

  TWENTY-FIVE

  The following morning when Angela opened her eyes she groaned for her whole face throbbed, and between her legs, which she was to find out had bled, and her stomach felt as if she had been kicked by a mule. When she struggled from her bed she found it difficult to stand up straight. As she stood holding on to the wall for support, waiting for the room to stop spinning, she heard Mary and Connie go past her door on their way downstairs. Connie had moved into the attic to share a bed with her grandmother because Angela had to get up so early, but not today.

  Gingerly and very slowly she followed them after a minute or two. When she opened the door into the room it was to see Connie with her warm dressing gown and slippers on sitting up to the table eating a bowl of porridge. Connie hadn’t been aware her mother was home because normally she wasn’t on Saturday morning so she was pleased to see her but could see there was something wrong. ‘Your face,’ she said.

  ‘Yes I fell down the cellar steps yesterday,’ Angela said.

  Connie nodded gravely. She knew all about falls, they happened to her all the time. ‘Poor Mammy.’

  ‘Yes indeed poor Mammy,’ Mary said. ‘And one that should still be in her bed. Here,’ she said holding out a bowl of porridge, ‘get that down you and I’ll make us both a cup of tea and then you get back to bed. And don’t even bother protesting,’ she said as Angela opened her mouth.

  Mary sat down with her own porridge and said, ‘When we’ve finished this me and Connie will get dressed and go shopping like we do every Saturday morning and you sleep if you can, for it’s ju
st turned half past seven.’

  It was two full hours after Angela’s usual time of rising and yet she felt more tired than she’d ever felt in her life and as Mary seemed to have everything in hand she decided to do as she was told for once and returned to bed. It was such a relief to lie down and ease her aching body and she closed her throbbing eyes and when Mary looked in later just before she went shopping Angela was in a deep sleep.

  She woke with a shriek and a yell two hours later and this became the pattern over the next few days. Angela was constantly tired, but wary of closing her eyes because memories of the abuse would crowd into her mind. She knew she would be better off back at work with less time to think, but Mary was worried about her emotional health as well as physical and thought a good rest was needed because she wasn’t the same girl she’d known and loved all these years.

  Angela knew she wasn’t the same person and couldn’t seem to do anything about lifting her spirits. Anyway her face took time to heal and in the end Angela had the entire week off work. She was glad to return and Mr Potter was very glad to see her and she was busier than ever now Bert was in full retirement.

  But as the days passed, from when she opened her eyes in the morning till she closed them at night she was filled with the dreadful thought and fear that one of those monsters who had raped her might have made her pregnant. Mary knew and shared that fear and when eight weeks after the attack there had been no sign of any of the cotton pads soaking in the bucket she mentioned it to Angela one night after she had eaten and Angela said she had had no sign of her monthlies. ‘It could be just the shock of it all,’ Mary said. ‘You know shock can do that sometimes.’

  ‘And what if it isn’t shock?’ Angela said. ‘What if the unthinkable has happened and I am carrying a child, then what the Hell am I going to do?’

  Mary shook her head helplessly and then she said resignedly, ‘Bring it up I suppose.’

  ‘Bring it up!’ Angela repeated. ‘Are you mad? I must get rid of it.’

  ‘Ah no!’

  ‘What’s the alternative?’ Angela said. ‘You know the life we’d live here if they knew I was pregnant by someone else, with my husband away fighting. I would be shunned and castigated in public and by association so would you and can you imagine the life the child would have? He or she would be vilified, he or she would be taunted and bullied and guess what, Mammy, and this will shock you, but I shan’t care what happens to this child. It will have no love from me because I don’t want it and never shall.’

  ‘You may feel differently when it’s born.’

  ‘How would I, Mammy?’ Angela asked. ‘The father of this child is not my beloved Barry, the father of the child I might be carrying is a cruel, beer-sodden rapist. I don’t know which one of the those three drunken soldiers is responsible for putting me in this postion, but it doesn’t really matter for one was as bad as the other. Yet you want me to love this child, and Barry to return from war and bring up another’s bastard? You ask too much, Mammy.’

  Mary was in tears as she answered, ‘I do my darling girl, but there isn’t any other solution.’

  Angela decided she needed to see Maggie, she might have some other ideas. However, getting rid of an unwanted pregnancy was not something she could talk about when anyone might overhear because it was illegal to abort a pregnancy. And so on the tram that morning she asked Maggie if she would call round that evening as she had something she needed to ask her.

  And Maggie, looking at Angela’s face and her anxious eyes, had a good idea what it would be about, but also knew she couldn’t speak about it in public, she had to wait until they were alone. And so that evening Maggie sat opposite Angela and Mary and said to Angela quite bluntly, ‘I’m telling you straight there is no easy way of stopping a pregnancy once it has begun because it means aborting the baby.’

  ‘Is there anything?’

  Maggie nodded and added, ‘There are a few back-street abortionists but they are hard to find ’cos asking around is risky and they keep changing addresses to keep ahead of the police. But these places cost and sometimes it doesn’t always work and that can mean that the baby is damaged in some way, but I can try and find out if you like.’

  ‘Yes. Yes please.’

  ‘No,’ Mary said. ‘Thank you, Maggie, but the answer is no.’

  Angela shot round annoyed at Mary’s interference and Mary said, ‘Hear me out, Angela. I don’t know where these people are and neither does Maggie and the minute she begins asking questions others would wonder why, because you don’t enquire about the whereabouts of a back-street abortionist to take afternoon tea together.

  ‘Then there’s the safety element because these people are not qualified. Some know bugger all, others are dirty devils that leave a woman with an infection that means she can never conceive again. I said I know no abortionists and that’s true, but over the years I have seen their handiwork enough times and it’s not pretty, like the young lass who bled to death, too scared of going to prison to summon an ambulance. You can’t put your life at risk in the hands of these butchers for you have Connie to think about.’

  ‘I agree really,’ said Maggie.

  ‘Right,’ Angela said testily, ‘both of you are busy telling me what not to do, so I’m sure you must have a great plan of what I must do instead.’

  ‘Have the baby and put it up for adoption,’ Mary suggested.

  ‘And have someone write and tell Barry that I was carrying on with another man and had given birth to his child.’

  ‘Barry would never believe you had found someone else.’

  ‘No, not if he was home he wouldn’t, where he saw me every day, but being over there it’s different and they have been away a long time, and some women do play away. Barry’s mate received a Dear John letter from his sweetheart a few days ago. Barry might well believe malicious gossip and that would destroy me.’

  ‘You could write and tell him first,’ Maggie said.

  ‘We thought of that,’ Angela said. ‘But it would mean telling him about the attack and … Well we’re told not to worry them unduly.’

  ‘You can see why,’ Maggie said.

  ‘Absolutely,’ Angela said. ‘But it means we’re right out of options, not that we had a great bundle of them to start with.’

  There was silence for a moment and then Maggie said, ‘Can I tell Mammy about you?’

  ‘Why?’ Angela said. ‘The fewer people that know the better just at the moment.’

  ‘I know, I’ll pick my time don’t worry. No one else will hear the news, but I have a special reason for Mammy to know about this attack, but I must have your absolute promise you won’t tell anyone else what I’m going to tell you.’

  ‘You have it,’ Angela said.

  ‘Aye I promise,’ Mary said, wondering what secret Maggie was about to reveal.

  ‘This happened to my mother,’ Maggie said. ‘No one knows, not even my father but she told me I suppose to try and keep me a bit aware. She was in service and raped by the son of the house. He put the blame on to her, said she was gagging for it and … well you know the sort of thing?’

  Both women nodded and Maggie went on, ‘He was believed of course and she was dismissed without a reference and when she went home her mother wouldn’t let her in.’

  ‘Didn’t she believe her either?’ Angela asked, slightly incredulously for she could never envisage a time when Mary would turn her back on her.

  ‘I don’t know if she did or she didn’t,’ Maggie said. ‘Maybe she thought it was probably true but couldn’t take the stigma, you know?’

  Again Mary and Angela nodded. ‘What happened?’ Angela asked because for poor destitute women there was only the workhouse.

  ‘Auntie Phyllis happened,’ Maggie said, ‘and she was the sister of Mammy’s mother. So Mammy wrote to her Aunt Phyllis telling her what had happened, and Phyllis went to the workhouse and got Mammy out. She looked after her until the baby, a boy, was born and took it to the Sisters of Mer
cy at the Catholic Orphanage and told the tale of a young, single Catholic girl who had lost her life giving birth. They took the child and Mammy recovered and she went on with her life and no one is any the wiser. Point is, Phyllis is older now and I don’t know if she would be up for doing this again, but if she is you could bide with her, moving in just before you begin to show, have the child and put it up for adoption.’

  ‘I think that is the best plan all around,’ Mary said.

  ‘So do I if Phyllis is willing to do it, but what about work?’

  ‘You leave that to me,’ Mary said. ‘Don’t give notice or anything and I will tell them you have been called over to Ireland for a family crisis.’

  ‘They know I haven’t parents or siblings.’

  ‘But they don’t know that you haven’t grandparents, or aunts, uncles or cousins,’ Mary said. ‘Don’t worry. I will be deliberately vague, but stress it was unavoidable.’

  ‘I will talk to Mammy tonight,’ Maggie promised. ‘She will believe what I will tell her, shocked by it I imagine, for she knows you to be a respectable girl from a good family and she’ll tell Phyllis that too.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Angela said. ‘I suppose it’s as well to have a plan in place sooner rather than later.’

  Phyllis Crabtree (Auntie Phyllis) lived in a fine brick house in Albert Road, Aston, and a fortnight after the talk with Maggie, Phyllis had asked to meet Angela on her own on Sunday afternoon so she could see for herself the type of girl she was.

  Angela had felt rather nervous meeting this stranger who could change the course of her life or not, and when she saw the house she was more nervous still, for it had large bay windows overlooking a small garden behind an ornate fence, and a cobbled path and a white scrubbed step led to a good solid wooden door with a half moon of stained glass set in the top of it. Angela nearly turned tail and headed back home but she reminded herself what was at stake and rang the bell.