by Anne Bennett
The speed of the execution of the leaders of the insurrection shocked the nation. De Valera’s passport saved his life, but the others were given very brief court martials, the outcome a foregone conclusion. With no process of appeal, the first leaders, Pearse, Clark and MacDonagh, were shot in the stone breaker’s yard in Kilmainham Gaol on 3 May, and the others in the following days. The flame of the mini rebellion, which had burned brightly for six days, had been successfully snuffed out.
In the middle of all this, Tom received an impassioned letter from Finn. He mentioned not one word about the uprising, which Tom had written and told him about. He was interested in matters much nearer his heart and said that the whole company was on the move. No one knew where and he was heartbroken at leaving behind his beloved Gabriella, the French girl he had met and he fancied himself in love with.
Tom wrote back in conciliatory tone, though he wasn’t too worried about his brother’s predicament. He was sure Finn would soon get over the loss of Gabriella. Someone else would no doubt take her place because it was likely that he would fall in love many times before wanting to settle down.
No one in the Levingstone household was the least bit interested in the insurrection in Ireland either, and even the events of the war just skimmed the surface. All their energies and their thoughts centred on Aggie’s recovery. Thirty-six hours after the doctor had first examined her, he called again and said that as she had hung on so long, she probably would make it.
This was good news, there was no denying it, and yet Aggie still lay like a stone. The doctor couldn’t say whether or not she would ever recover totally. Seeing Aggie comatose and unresponsive every day, Lily too had her doubts, so when Aggie opened her eyes the evening of the day she should have been married, Lily, sitting with her at the time, was terribly pleased, even though she shut them again almost immediately and there was no further movement.
‘It is the very first sign of any improvement at all,’ she told Levingstone later. ‘I think we have to expect it to be a long time till Aggie recovers totally from this. Mind you, we will need to get some food into her soon. She was thin as a lath before this, and if she goes much longer without sustenance, she will be just skin and bone and not fit to fight anything.’
The doctor said much the same two days later when he called to take the bandages off and see how the skin was healing underneath. Lily was helping him when Aggie’s eyes opened again, though there was no recognition and they were vacant as they watched the doctor almost fearfully.
‘I have left her mouth exposed now,’ he told Lily and Jane later. ‘It is still a bit swollen and tender, but the loose teeth have bedded down nicely. Maybe in a day or so you can encourage her to try drinking through a straw.’
Lily and Jane agreed with that, but Aggie still slept most of the time, and it was two days before Lily was able to encourage her to take a little milk. That time when Aggie opened her eyes, the swelling was slightly reduced, and Lily saw immediately that the blank look had gone and that Aggie knew who she was.
‘Hello, bab,’ she said. ‘Christ, you gave us a bleeding scare, you did.’
Aggie didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure she could, for though she had tried moving her tongue about her mouth, it hurt her too much to do more than that. Anyway, she didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to do anything, because it was too much effort and she was so tired.
Lily saw her eyes glazing over and closing. She said quickly, ‘Will you take a wee drop of milk to please me?’
Aggie looked at Lily as if she hadn’t heard right. ‘I mean through a straw,’ Lily explained. ‘I’ll help you.’ And then, as there was no response, she urged, ‘just a wee drop, half a cup.’
Aggie wasn’t keen on taking anything, her mouth felt too sore, but to please Lily she allowed her to lift her head and place the straw between her swollen lips. The liquid made her mouth throb, and her head, lifted from the pillow, began to pound, but she saw that Lily was ridiculously pleased with the relatively small amount that she had taken.
Aggie wished that she could go to sleep and never wake up again. She was more afraid than she had ever been in her life, and when she was awake she relived every moment of that attack and knew she would never have the courage to go out alone again. How easy it would have been just to slip away in her sleep and never have a worry or care in the world any more.
But then Alan would be sitting by her bed, holding her bandaged hand in his own as if he were willing strength into her limbs, the love light shining in his deep brown eyes. His soft voice would soothe her soul and he urged her to get better soon, telling her over and over how much he loved her. Then she thought she couldn’t leave this wonderful man, who loved her with an abiding love that she knew would last a lifetime.
And because of that love, he could never learn the name of her attacker, because that would be too dangerous for him. When she began to talk again, she knew she must bury Finch’s name and never let it surface.
Later, Lily was to see that day as a breakthrough with Aggie, although that wasn’t apparent at first. The next day, Aggie took her milk without protest and the day after that she mumbled, ‘Thank you,’ as Lily lowered her onto the pillow. It was husky and indistinct, but it was a start. Aggie even felt the muscles in her face move at the delighted look in Lily’s face and knew she was trying to smile, a thing that she thought she would never do again.
‘Oh God, Aggie, that is the best sound I have heard in bloody years,’ Lily cried. ‘I would like to hug you to bits. I know I can’t, but you have made me one happy woman and you just wait till his nibs hears the news. He’ll be like a pig in muck.’
Aggie knew that he would be, and not least because he wanted to know what she remembered of the attack and preferably who it was that had beaten her so badly. Not that he had said one word about it, but she had seen the speculative light in his eyes sometimes and knew what it meant.
He waited another week before asking Aggie anything. By then she was able to sit up in bed for her meals and the menu had become more varied as she was able to tolerate the spoon in her mouth, especially as she could hold the spoon herself, although the food still had to be puréed. She had also practised her speech and, though still not great at long conversations, her voice sounded more natural.
Aggie knew that Levingstone would ask her something that night. She had felt the unease in him even as he came into the room, as he did every night as soon as he came home. Then if someone was sitting with her they would leave, Levingstone would sit on the chair, take up one of her hands and kiss it gently.
Tonight, though, she read the trepidation in his eyes and she said gently, ‘What is it?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Something on your mind?’ Aggie said.
‘It’s just … well, I don’t want to upset you.’
Aggie took pity on him, but said, ‘I can’t help you.’
‘You saw nothing?’
‘I was jumped from behind, dragged into the entry. It was dark.’
She saw Levinstone’s face redden with rage and his hands ball into fists as he said, ‘I am so angry at what you have suffered at the hands of some bloody pervert. If I had the man before me this minute, then I would kill him with my bare hands.’
Aggie knew he meant every word. She put her hand on his arm and pleaded, ‘Let’s put this behind us.’
There was nothing else they could do, but Levingstone was frustrated that he was not able to avenge the damage, hurt and degradation inflicted on the woman he loved more than life itself.
As for Aggie, she was content to watch the early summer unfold in the dusty Birmingham streets from her bedroom window, where she felt safe. May gave way to June and she began to get up each day, but at first she tired easily, and Lily insisted that she rested every afternoon. She looked forward to her wedding, which had been rescheduled for late June, when she imagined she would be fully recovered.
Pleased though Lily was at Aggie’s progress, she
wished that they knew the identity of Aggie’s assailant. She was more persistent in questioning Aggie about it than Levingstone because she had a concern for the women on the streets.
One evening in mid-June, she said to Aggie, ‘Maybe you should have had the police in at the beginning. I know that Alan don’t like them – well, who in their right mind does? – but it might have helped, like.’
‘How d’you work that out?’
‘They could maybe have found out who did it.’
‘Even they need something to go on,’ Aggie said.
‘Yeah, but the coppers know the right questions to ask, don’t they?’ Lily said. ‘And they know the people into this kind of thing.’
‘It wouldn’t matter what questions they asked, or what people they know,’ Aggie protested. ‘I couldn’t identify anyone.’
‘Yeah, but, Aggie, you can’t have maniacs running the streets, attacking any they don’t like the look of,’ Lily cried. ‘All the street women are jumpy now it’s come out what happened to you. I saw a couple of them when I was out shopping yesterday and they told me some are afraid to go out. It’s their living, Aggie. As they said, no woman is safe.’
Aggie thought of all the women in the house that Lily shared with. She imagined how fearful they would be. She also remembered Levingstone saying that Lily could keep her own counsel if she was asked to and she made a decision she would regret for the rest of her life. She took Lily’s hands between her own and said, ‘Stop this, Lily. I know for a fact that the man who attacked me will not go on to do it to anyone else.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Lily, I want your solemn promise that you will not repeat one word of what I am going to tell you to a living soul,’ Aggie said, ‘though you can tell the girls that their areas are as safe as they ever were, that the attack was personal to me and me alone.’
‘Oh God,’ Lily said, and the blood drained from her face. ‘It were Finch, weren’t it?’
‘Ssh,’ Aggie cautioned. ‘I don’t want Jane to hear.’
Jane didn’t hear, but someone else did. Levingstone had arrived home unexpectedly early. The hall was empty and he crossed to the bedroom quietly, intending to burst in and surprise both women. Instead, he was the one surprised. He stood with his hand on the doorknob and, as he listened he felt his body fill with fury.
‘Are you off out again, sir, and you just in?’ Jane said, coming into the hall as Levingstone was lifting his coat down from the hook.
‘Yes, I have to go out,’ Levingstone said. ‘There is someone I have to see.’
Levingstone had thought that it might be Finch when he first looked on Aggie’s bruised and battered body, but he had had no proof and, anyway, Aggie’s survival was the first priority. And then, when he was able to ask her, she said she didn’t know who it was. If it was Finch he knew she would be fully aware of it because she had had so many dealings with him over the years and she had always said there was a special smell emanating from him, a smell of evil and sheer wickedness.
He didn’t blame Aggie for keeping the name from him because he knew she was afraid he would get either hurt or in trouble or both. He didn’t care, nor did he care that Finch was twenty years his junior. Now he knew the name of the man who had raped and nearly killed the woman he loved above all others, he couldn’t let him go unpunished.
He had no idea where Finch spent his time now and so he went first to Rogers. Rogers looked at the man before him dispassionately. He had never seen him in such a state before; he could almost see the barely controlled rage surging through him.
‘Why do you think that I would know where Finch might be?’ he asked mildly.
‘Because the pair of you are as thick as thieves,’ Levingstone said through gritted teeth. ‘And I warn you, Rogers, I am in no mood to play games.’
Rogers shrugged. ‘So who is playing games? What do you want him for, anyway?’
‘That’s my business.’
‘Not if you want information it isn’t.’
Levingstone had the urge to lift the smug Rogers from behind the desk and throttle the life out of him. ‘All right then,’ he yelled. ‘I have just found out he is the man who raped and attacked my Agnes and left her for dead. He is not getting away with that.’
Rogers’ sharp intake of breath was inaudible. He had asked Finch at the time and he had sworn he had nothing to do with it. Rogers wasn’t totally surprised, though, for he knew Finch had a fixation for that little whore, so much so that he had asked Rogers to stop Levingstone marrying her. Rogers had said he could push Levingstone only so far and that he didn’t own the man body and soul. Finch hadn’t liked it, but, God Almighty, what he had done to that girl was horrendous. He remembered how distraught Levingstone had been and the injuries he had described.
Maybe it was time that Finch was taught a lesson.
‘Try the 501 Club,’ he said.
Levingstone knew the 501 Club was on the edge of the Jewellery Quarter of the city, where there were lots of alleyways and courtyards, a hive of industry in the day but deserted at night. It would suit Levingstone’s purpose very well. He wanted no witnesses to what he intended to do to Finch.
‘If he isn’t there, try Flamingos off Broad Street,’ Rogers said. ‘But try 501 first, and if I were you I would take someone with me.’
‘I need no one else,’ Levingstone said. ‘It would be wrong to involve anyone, anyway. This business is between Finch and me.’
Rogers shrugged. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ he said, and extended his hand. ‘Good luck, and I hope you find him.’
Knowing the clubs would not be open yet, Levingstone made his way to the city centre and into a pub for a bite to eat and a few pints of beer to while away a few hours. Not too many beers, though; just enough to fuel his anger.
* * *
Aggie was concerned that Alan was so late coming home. Then Jane came to see her. She hadn’t known that Levingstone had not seen Aggie when he was in earlier and so presumed that she knew all about the person he had to see that evening.
‘As the master is going to be late, do you want to wait to eat with him, or have your meal earlier, Cook wants to know?’ she asked.
‘How do you know that the master is going to be late?’ Aggie asked.
‘Well, he said he had to see someone when he left.’
‘When was this?’
‘Just a while ago.’
Aggie stared at her incredulously. ‘Jane, the master hasn’t been in this evening yet.’
‘Pardon me, ma’am, but he has,’ Jane insisted.
‘But he couldn’t have,’ Aggie cried. ‘He would have come into the bedroom if he had come home. He always does.’
Jane looked troubled. ‘Don’t know about that, ma’am, and I didn’t see him come in, because I was in the kitchen helping Cook, but when I come in again, it was to see the master lifting his coat off the hook. I assumed that he had already been to see you. Anyway, I made a comment about him leaving when he was just in, like, and he said he had to go out unexpectedly to see somebody.’
‘But it’s so odd.’
‘It is, ma’am,’ Jane agreed. ‘Tell you something else too, if you won’t feel that I’m speaking out of turn, like.’
‘Is it relevant?’
‘Don’t know, ma’am,’ Jane said. ‘It is just with his behaviour being out of character, like…’
‘All right then. Go on.’
‘It was just this, ma’am.’ Jane said. ‘The master’s face was all red and he looked murderous. Yes, murderous is the only word for it. I mentioned it to Cook. Said I wouldn’t like to be the person he was going to see, like.’
Jane didn’t go on to say that in any normal household, they might assume the master and Aggie had had a few words – they didn’t seem to have words like other couples – but none could deny that the master’s behaviour was decidedly peculiar that evening.
Finch had been expecting a visit from Levingstone, but
long before this, feeling sure that as soon as Aggie had recovered herself enough, she would tell him the name of the one who had made such a mess of her and raped her into the bargain. He had got himself a couple of heavies to go round with, so sure was he that Levingstone would show up. But as time had gone on, he had begun to think that maybe Aggie was going to say nothing and he had let down his guard a little and almost told the heavies they were no longer needed. How glad he was he hadn’t done that when he saw Levingstone approaching him that night just as they neared the 501 Club.
Levingstone couldn’t believe his luck at actually meeting Finch on the road. He thought he might spend all night trying to find him, but there he was before him, delivered into his hands as if it was meant. He didn’t notice the heavies detach themselves from Finch’s side and melt into the night, knowing instinctively that Levingstone would be unlikely to start on Finch in open view of any that might pass. His eyes were boring into Finch’s and he strode up to him and said, ‘I think you and I have got some unfinished business.’
Finch regarded him with a supercilious smile. ‘Really? I don’t think so.’
‘I know so, but not here,’ Levingstone said. ‘There are too many people about. When I knock you to kingdom come I want as few witnesses as possible. I want to knock that smile off your face, for one thing.’
‘Oh, do you?’ Finch said, and added goadingly, ‘and how is dear Agnes these days?’
Levingstone could no more have stopped the punch that he levelled at Finch after that remark than he could have stopped the sun from shining. There was such power and anger behind it that Finch was nearly rendered senseless. Levingstone took full advantage of his stunned state to take him by the scruff of the neck and drag him into one of the alleyways where he threw Finch to the ground, saying as he did so, ‘You are not even worthy to speak her name.’
‘What, speak the name of a common prostitute?’ Finch said. ‘Or are your wits so addled with her that you forget the profession she is in?’
‘I forget nothing,’ Levingstone ground out, ‘and that includes the state you left her in just a few weeks ago. I am going to teach you a lesson you will not forget in a hurry.’