by Anne Bennett
Tom smiled. ‘You are thinking about the upbringing you had. Nuala’s was totally different. Mammy would let her do virtually nothing and so she got a job as nursemaid to the Carringtons’ children. When the troubles were at their height the Carringtons fled to England and took Nuala with them. She was near Birmingham, she told us, in a place called Sutton Coldfield.’
‘I have heard of it,’ Aggie said. ‘Some of the clients at the club came from there. Posh place, so I hear.’
‘I imagine so if the Carringtons had a house there,’ Tom said and went on, ‘Just after Nuala left, Daddy developed a bad heart.’
‘Daddy did?’ Aggie said. ‘I always thought that it would be Mammy, with the rages she used to get into.’
‘Aye,’ Tom said. ‘We weren’t allowed to write and tell Nuala in case it upset her. Some time later, when she met a man she wanted to marry she wrote and told them. And when Daddy read in the letter that the man was a Protestant, he dropped dead to the stone floor with the letter still in his hand.’
‘Ah. Poor Daddy.’
‘Aye, and poor Nuala too,’ Tom said, ‘for she was disowned from that point, as you were when you disappeared.’
‘I expected it for me,’ Aggie said, ‘but Mammy was besotted by Nuala.’
‘She blamed her for Daddy dying and absolutely hated her,’ Tom said. ‘Joe couldn’t stand the atmosphere in the house and he went off the States.’
Tom went on to tell Aggie of Joe’s marriage and son, his fluctuating fortunes in America, his role in the war in London and how he had at last returned to Ireland.
‘He is nearly back to his old self now, and he is not the type of man to look down on his own sister. Joe will be delighted that I have found you. We have often wondered, and talked about you.’
Then he told Aggie about Nuala’s children being orphaned.
‘Nuala’s death shocked me to the core, and I don’t mind admitting I shed tears,’ Tom said. ‘Mammy wasn’t shocked, though. She said she’d prayed for something to happen to Nuala for years.’
‘God, she’s a cold, hard woman.’
‘Was,’ Tom corrected. ‘She died in January and for weeks before her death she could neither move nor speak, but by then even I found it hard to feel sorry for her, because Molly came to live with us for five years and Mammy gave her hell, absolute hell. An awful lot happened to her before she was reunited with Kevin. One day she’ll probably tell you all about it.’
‘Tom,’ Aggie said. ‘What are you talking about? She won’t want to see the likes of me.’
‘Of course she will,’ Tom said. ‘And wait till you hear her tale. I am over here to see Molly and meet young Kevin, of course. They are living in Castle Bromwich and Molly is engaged to be married to a pilot. The wedding is in June, and by then you will be as fit and healthy as anyone else, and I will be proud to have you take my arm.’
Aggie shook her head. She didn’t believe Tom for one minute, but her head was too addled to form the words to contradict him. But when he suggested that they both hit the sack because they had a big day ahead, she said, ‘I doubt I will sleep with all this running around in my head.’
Tom smiled. ‘I think you have drunk enough to ensure a good night’s sleep,’ he said, for he had noticed how often Aggie had filled her glass. He pulled her to her feet and, supporting her staggering form, helped her through the curtain to the makeshift bedroom where he sat her gently on the bed. ‘Can you manage now?’ he asked.
‘Course I can, course I can,’ Aggie said airily, waving her arms in the air in the manner of the very drunk. Tom smiled as he left her, knowing that she would have a head and a half in the morning and hoped she would remember the arrangements they had made for her escape.
When Tom saw Aggie waiting for him in the library, he was relieved, for he hadn’t been sure that she would be brave enough to leave the man who still petrified the life out of her. He was late and it was almost half-past twelve. Despite the incongruous kitbag, he saw that she had made an effort to tidy herself up. Her face was not as white and pasty, and her eyes, though still black-rimmed, had more life in them. She had brushed her hair and put it up so that curls peeped out from under the very respectable navy hat that matched her coat. Even her boots were in good shape. Aggie saw Tom’s eyes widen in surprise and approval.
‘These were the things I had on when Finch’s men got me,’ she said, ‘and since then they have hung in the wardrobe because Finch produces the trash I wear on the streets. I had almost forgotten I had them till I went in for the kitbag and saw them there. Mind you, they just hang on me now.’
‘That’s because you need feeding up,’ Tom said, ‘And talking of feeding up, we need a ration book so I am told. Have you got one?’
Aggie shook her head. ‘I should have one – everyone should – but Finch used to give me the food he allows each day.’
‘Well, that is a thing of the past,’ Tom told her. ‘Today we will register for a ration book each and an identity card too.’
‘Here?’
‘No, the town hall in Sutton Coldfield, where we are going to live for now. We have got a little two-bedroomed flat there. In fact, the less time we spend in Birmingham, the better I like it.’
‘Me too.’
‘Come on then.’ Tom caught up her arm. ‘We have to catch the Lichfield train from New Street Station. God, Aggie,’ he said suddenly, ‘you are trembling all over. Are you really that scared?’
‘I am scared, all right,’ Aggie replied, ‘but much of the trembling is because I badly need a drink, or some opium, or both.’
‘You know you must fight this, Aggie?’
‘Of course I know,’ Aggie snapped. ‘But it is hard. Bloody hard, if you really want to know.’
Neither Aggie nor Tom was aware of just how hard it would be, and the trembling was just the tip of a very large iceberg.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Tom did not leave Aggie’s side for four days. He couldn’t have left her if he had wanted to, because she wasn’t in her right mind at all. He had never seen anyone in such torment and he didn’t ever want to see it again either.
The shakes were bad enough, it wasn’t the odd shiver or even teeth chattering with cold or fear, this was Aggie’s whole body trembling violently as if everything was loose inside and she would cry out against it. Worse than that, though, were the pains in her stomach, which would double her over, and she would groan and sometimes roll on the floor to try to gain some relief.
She was unable to sleep, and that meant that Tom had to go without as well. He managed light dozes at various times when Aggie nodded off through sheer exhaustion. He would rest in a chair in the living room, fearing that if he allowed himself to lie down properly he probably wouldn’t wake for hours. His whole body and mind were so weary it was sometimes difficult to function, and he was becoming clumsy and slow.
He was heartily glad that he had insisted that first day on registering with a grocer and butcher, and collecting the rations for the two of them, for he hadn’t been across the door since. Not that Aggie was eating enough to keep a bird alive. So when she began to vomit and have diarrhoea the second day he couldn’t imagine where it was all coming from and could only assume that it was the muck and poison being cleared out of her system.
The hardest thing of all, though, was standing firm when Aggie would go through the cravings. Then he could barely recognise his sister as she begged and implored him to get her something, anything to help her. Sometimes she would approach him suggestively, promising he could take any delight he wanted if he would bring her some gin, and he would turn away in distaste, reminding himself that she didn’t really know what she was saying. Other times she would scream at him or attack him, beating him with little fists that had no power in them, or she would cry in anguish with great gulping sobs that tore at Tom’s heart. Sometimes she would even bang her head repeatedly against the wall.
If she would let him, Tom would gather her up in his arms, r
ock her and stroke her hair and tell her just how much she meant to him. He wasn’t usually that good at standing firm and yet this time he had to, for Aggie’s very survival depended upon him hardening his heart.
After the initial heart-wrenching four days, though Aggie was far from over her addictions, the vomiting and diarrhoea had eased and she was noticeably calmer. Tom was able to leave her for short periods to get the shopping in. By the time a week was up, Aggie was lucid enough for long enough to thank Tom for his support and for staying strong when she would have crumbled. Tom was embarrassed. No one had ever praised him for his strength of character before.
‘That’s all right, Aggie,’ he said. ‘I am just delighted that you are getting better.’
‘I am not right well yet, Tom,’ Aggie warned.
‘I know that. I will be guided by you in this. You tell me how you are feeling and if I can help you in any way then I will,’ he said, adding with a smile, ‘As long as you don’t ask me to bring you in a bottle of gin, or laudanum.’
Aggie sighed. ‘No,’ she said. ‘But, oh God, Tom, you have no idea of the cravings. It’s as if my innards are on fire. I feel that if I don’t have something I will die. Even now, I am almost overcome at times, but I know I must fight it. I would have sold my soul in the beginning and, God knows, I had already surrendered my body.’
‘Aggie, you have suffered so dreadfully since you were fifteen years old,’ Tom said. ‘I feel so sad about that and wish I could somehow get those years back for you.’
Aggie sighed. ‘No one can do that.’ Thanks to you, though, I will be able to enjoy the rest of my life. There is one blot that stops total happiness.’
‘Let me guess. Tony Finch?’
Aggie nodded.
‘I did feel bad letting him get away with all he has put you through,’ Tom said. ‘But my priority then was you. When you feel up to it we must have a talk about Finch, but don’t worry, he has no way of tracing you here.’
‘Tom, he has spies everywhere. Absolutely everywhere.’
‘Then, my dear, he must be dealt with.’
That was what Aggie feared most. She cried, ‘No, Tom.’
Tom covered Aggie’s hands with his. ‘This isn’t something for you to fret over,’ he said, looking into her agitated eyes.
‘You know,’ Aggie said, ‘in the early days when I was so disgusted that I could hardly live with myself, I had a mad thought of contacting Polly Palmer. You remember I told you about Polly?’
‘Wasn’t that the woman you stayed with when you were working in the munitions?’
‘That’s right. I wasn’t thinking straight. She was a lovely person, honest and sort of wholesome, and we got on so well, but she never knew the truth about my earlier life. Lily and I both said we had been in service. How could I land at her door, the state I was in then, gin-sodden and doped up to the eyeballs? If she didn’t order me from the door, you can bet her husband would soon enough, and I wouldn’t blame him either. Street women are unseen by decent members of society. Everyone knows they are there, but they don’t expect to meet them, never mind mix with them and they certainly don’t want them tainting their lives.’
‘Was there no one you could confide in? No one who could help you?’
‘Not a soul,’ Aggie said. ‘See, apart from Polly, Jane and the girls at work, I only knew prostitutes, and they were often in a similar boat. Jane knew what I was once, of course, but when she married she didn’t let on to her husband what sort of club she worked at, she told me at Lily’s funeral. She was living in Cheshire anyway, and though I got on with the girls at work I was never really friendly with them. I was always afraid of them finding out about my past and, anyway, I sort of didn’t think I should make friends with these ordinary girls as if I was the same as them. With Polly it was different because we lived in her house, but even there we never spoke about the past. Poor Polly. I bet she often wondered what had happened to me. It was as if I disappeared into thin air.’
‘You were so alone, so isolated.’
‘It was better that I was,’ Aggie said. ‘In my clearer moments I knew that. Just suppose I had gone to Polly and she hadn’t fainted from shock, and that she had seen past the drink, drugs and degradation and taken me into her home. The minute she did that, she would be at risk, and not just her, but her husband and children too. Finch would hunt me down and punish any that harboured me. And that is why I am so afraid for you.’
‘I know,’ Tom said. ‘And believe me, there is no need. You are safe now.’
‘I really want to believe that.’
‘Try, Aggie,’ Tom said. ‘Don’t let Finch destroy the rest of your life too. Now, if it’s all right with you, I will go up to my bedroom and write a long letter to Joe, bringing him up to date with developments. He will be anxious because the telegram just said I had been unavoidably delayed and would write later.’
‘Then write, certainly,’ Aggie said. ‘Are you writing to Nuala’s daughter too? Molly, you called her?’
‘Aye,’ Tom said. ‘But I shan’t write to her yet. I want to keep you as a surprise.’
‘A shock, you mean.’
‘No,’ Tom said, ‘I had the right word. You will be a surprise to Molly and a very pleasant one at that.’
‘You old flatterer, Tom,’ Aggie said. ‘You better get away to your bedroom before you embarrass the life out of me.’
‘Now,’ said Tom from the doorway, ‘you sound like Molly.’
‘I can’t wait to meet her,’ Aggie said wistfully.
‘It won’t be long.’ Tom was confident. ‘You are improving every day.’
* * *
Joe was astounded when he got Tom’s letter. There were pages and pages of it. He read it all in silence and then turned to Gloria. ‘God, this is almost unbelievable. Tom has found our oldest sister, Aggie. You mind I told you about her? She ran away from home at fifteen, after being raped and finding herself pregnant.’
‘Sure I remember,’ Gloria said. ‘I was intrigued at the time.’
‘Aye, and full of questions I couldn’t answer,’ Joe said with a grin. ‘Anyway, it appears that the future that Molly escaped from, by the skin of her teeth, has been Aggie’s lot for years.’
‘Oh God, poor girl. How on earth did Tom find her?’
‘He didn’t,’ Joe said. ‘She found him. She actually propositioned him as he was leaving a pub.’
‘God!’ Gloria breathed. ‘The chances of that happening must be incredible. I would be mortified by shame.’
‘Tom said she was,’ Joe said. ‘Aggie was controlled by a man called Tony Finch, who got her hooked on drugs. I remember Aggie was always lovely. She never raised her voice or got in a temper. We all missed her terribly when she just disappeared and we weren’t even allowed to talk about her afterwards, like she hadn’t existed or something. It was stupid. Poor wee Finn was only five and he cried over her for days. And all the time Tom was carrying the burden of knowing where she had gone. He never forgot her.’
‘Why don’t you write to Tom and ask him what he intends to do about Finch, if anything at all?’ Gloria suggested.
‘I will,’ Joe said. ‘But answering an epistle of this length will take some thought.’
Tom’s answer to Joe was that dealing with Finch was on the back burner. He would not forget about him, but his first priority had to be Aggie, and she was improving so much it did his heart good to look at her.
Her eyes were no longer bloodshot, there were no black rings around them and there was more colour in her cheeks. Her hair, now washed and brushed regularly, shone like silver, and she wore it in a sort of soft bun at the nape of her neck. Three weeks after Tom spirited Aggie away he took her to meet Molly.
‘Molly won’t know that I am even in Birmingham,’ he told Aggie as they travelled on the train early that evening. ‘I told Joe not to say, though he says she thinks it odd that I have not written. I had taken to writing fairly regularly.’
‘She won
’t be cross at us just turning up like this?’
‘No, not a bit of it,’ Tom said. ‘And she will be delighted by you.’
Molly was staggered with surprise at seeing her uncle at her door when she had imagined him back in Buncrana, and by his side a woman that she had never seen before. ‘Uncle Tom!’ she cried. ‘What are you doing here?’ She hugged him in delight. ‘It’s not that I am not pleased or anything but…’
‘I never left,’ Tom said. ‘I met someone important to me and now I would like to introduce her to you.’
For a moment Molly imagined some sort of romantic entanglement until she turned and looked at the woman fully for the first time. She knew she had never met her and yet she seemed familiar somehow. Suddenly she realised the woman reminded her of an older version of her mother. Then Tom said, ‘Molly, this is your Aunt Aggie.’
‘Aunt Aggie?’ Molly queried, her brow furrowed. Then she remembered her uncle telling her about his other sister. ‘The girl who ran away,’ she said.
Tom gave a chuckle. ‘Aye, the very same. Now we have a lot to tell you and I don’t intend to do that on the doorstep, so can we come in?’
‘Oh, yes, of course,’ Molly said, flinging the door open. ‘Give me your coats or you won’t feel the benefit. Then, Uncle Tom, if you lead the way to the living room … Kevin is in the kitchen, supposedly doing his homework, but he will be out as soon as he knows you’re here. Paul Simmons is popping in later as well.’
‘Why’s that?’ Tom asked.
‘Oh, he’s bringing some brochures of houses,’ Molly said. ‘Mark and I had intended to stay in Terry’s house for the duration, but Paul said it would be wise to see if we can buy now rather than wait till after the war when everyone will be looking to do the same thing.’
‘He is a very wise man, that Paul,’ Tom said.
‘I know,’ Molly said. ‘Anyway, that will be another pleased to see you.’