The Rag Nymph (aka The Forester Girl)

by Catherine Cookson

  They were now in a district where lights were hanging outside the taverns and shop windows. She thought she recognised the street, but then again, at night, everything looked the same. When they entered a narrow road with people coming and going, she would have slipped quietly away, but here and there were groups of men and youths whom she could see and hear were the worse for drink.

  Outside one tavern, a number of men seemed to be arguing, and when one pushed another, causing him to stumble, he landed against the side of the cab and gripped her in order to save himself from falling. And then, peering into her face, he said, ‘Hello, lovey.’

  ‘Leave go of me! Go away!’

  But her cry brought another two men shambling forward, one of them crying, ‘What’ve we here? Oh my! My! A nice piece all dressed up, an’ left on her own, an’ hangin’ on to the back of a cab. Eeh my! Where’ve you dropped from, love?’

  The cab continued moving, and neither the driver nor the passenger seemed to take any notice; but when she screamed, ‘Leave me alone!’ and kicked out at one of her would-be molesters, and he came out with a string of oaths and, lurching towards her, missed her and fell heavily against the side of the cab, it was stopped and its passenger hurriedly alighted. Pressing herself tightly against the wheel, Millie watched him lay about the men with a walking stick. It would be a pliable stick, because she could hear the swishing of it. When others, drawn from the bar by the narration, would have assailed them too, he grabbed her arm, saying, ‘Get in! Get in! Quick!’ And he followed her, banging the door shut.

  The driver yelled, ‘Up there! Up there!’ and the horses were off into a trot. Even so, some of the men continued to beat on the back and side of the cab.

  She lay gasping against the back of the seat and staring before her.

  ‘I’ll have to send you a bill in for a new hat,’ the man said, pointing to his bare head.

  ‘I’m…I’m very sorry.’

  ‘Oh, you needn’t be, Damsel in distress. Anyway, tell me, why were you on that road alone?’

  ‘I…I had gone to visit someone. They…they weren’t at home.’

  ‘Am I to believe you?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter if you do or not. Will you please ask the cabby to drop me off at the market?’

  ‘He knows where he’s going.’

  She sat in silence. Sometimes she could see his face when they were passing a well-lit shop or an inn, otherwise they were sitting in semi-darkness, for the coach lamps sent merely a mist of light into the cab.

  She knew now that the cab was going over a cobbled area and she voiced this by saying, ‘We’re in the market now, I think.’

  ‘No, not quite. You’ll know time enough where you are when we get there.’

  It was shortly after this that the man put his head out of the window and called up to the cabby, ‘Go straight round the back and into the yard, Will.’

  ‘What? What yard? Please! I want to get out.’

  ‘You’ll get out in a minute.’

  She heard the horses being drawn back to a walk and she felt the cab turn at an angle, turn again, then stop. Immediately, the man got out quickly; then held out his hand to her. And when she stepped onto the ground and saw they were in a walled yard, she opened her mouth; but the scream never had voice because he was behind her and his hand came tight over her mouth; at the same time, his knee was pushed in the middle of her back with such force that her arms sprang out. And the man she had imagined to be the cabby had hold of them in an odd way: he had his back to her, and he gave a heave, and the next instant she was thrust up practically on to his shoulders. Her mouth was free now but she couldn’t cry out for she was frozen with terror. Her head was bobbing, her eyes, staring wide, were blinded for the moment by a bright light shining from a room. Then they passed through a dark passage and into another room, which she was surprised to recognise was a kitchen. Two women were in it. And when, with an expert swing, she was brought from the man’s back and into a high-backed wooden chair, she could not utter a word; all she could do was stare and listen.

  The thin man was talking to the women, saying, ‘I tell you it’s unbelievable. There she was on the road alone. Talk about luck. Anyway, Nell, you come and see to her. There’s things to be done. And Rosie, you go along to the bar. Tell Peter to go to Firman’s club and ask to see Mr B.’

  ‘Mr B?’ the woman said.

  ‘Aye, just say that. Peter’ll know. But tell him to change his togs, go very decent like. He knows how to go about it.’

  ‘But what message has he got to give him?’

  ‘Oh, the usual. There’s a parcel for him. Well, let’s get going.’

  ‘You don’t want a cup of tea?’

  ‘No, Rosie; I don’t want a cup of tea. Go on.’

  The woman laughed now and said, ‘All right, you don’t want a cup of tea, but I’ll say this: by the look of her, you’ll have to give her somethin’, else she’ll be dead of fright before he gets here.’ Then in a laughing tone, ‘And that would upset you, wouldn’t it, dearie?’

  He made a playful rush at her, saying, ‘Go on; off you go!’ Then turning to the woman he had called Nell, he said, ‘Bring her up,’ and made for the door, saying as he passed the supposed cabby, ‘Quick thinkin’, cabby. Yes; nice piece of acting. You can stable him now; I won’t need that any more tonight.’

  ‘Aye, boss,’ said the man.

  Millie did not resist the woman’s hands on her as they followed the man from the room; they were firm but not rough, not even when she was pulled to a stop at what appeared to be a double door. The man opened it to reveal, not a room, but what seemed to be a blank wall. But he twisted something and the wall opened.

  They were now in another hall and she had the momentary impression of the house from which she had recently escaped: everywhere in this place was pink…no, red, deep red: the carpet, the heavy hangings, the upholstery of chairs.

  They were crossing this area when, to one side, she noticed another door. Life seeming to flow back into her, she swung round from the woman and dashed to it, tugging at it and yelling now. But then the futility of her efforts came to her, not at the size of the two heavy bolts and the large lock without a key, but with the realisation that her two captors had not moved: there were no restraining hands on her.

  She swung round and pleaded with the man: ‘Let me go! Please, let me go!’

  ‘Why should I? You walked into this; I didn’t ask you to stop my carriage. Anyway—’ His voice dropped, and he moved slowly towards her: ‘I’ve been waiting to meet you for a long time—you remember me, don’t you?—from when you first saw me. But that was a long time ago. You’ve grown. Oh my! You’ve nearly grown past being any use to me. Do you understand that, dearie?’

  When his face came close to hers, instinctively her hand came out in the form of a fist and she banged it into his face. Then, bringing up her knee, she caught him in the groin, causing him to step back for a moment; but the sounds he was making were outdone by those of the woman, because she was crying, ‘Oh, my! Oh, my!’ And it wasn’t evident whether the words were emitted in laughter or in amazement.

  The man straightened and thrust up an arm, but the woman’s voice checked its coming down as she cried, ‘You don’t want to mark her, do you, not with him comin’? That can wait.’

  Reluctantly, he stepped back; then, fingering his cheek, he turned to the woman, saying, ‘Am I bleeding?’

  ‘It’s only a scratch,’ she said. ‘She must have a ring on.’

  Millie’s arm was jerked almost out of the socket, and he was looking down on her hand now; and then he came out with a string of oaths, and, thrusting Millie’s hand towards the woman, he cried, ‘Look at that! Do you see what I’m seeing? I can’t believe it. Look at it!’

  He began to pull the ring off her finger, and when she cried out, he took no notice. Then the ring was in his hand and he was twisting it from side to side as if to examine the light of the stones.

  ‘You
sure?’

  ‘Am I sure? Bugger me! I know me own. Twenty years I had it…Who gave you this?’

  He was now gripping her shoulder and he repeated, ‘Who gave it to you?’

  ‘My…my…it was a present.’

  ‘Who…gave…it…to…you?’

  ‘My…my father.’

  After a long moment the hand left her shoulder and he turned to the woman and in another explosive fit of exasperation, he cried again, ‘Bugger me!’ and, following another string of oaths, he said, ‘Her father, she says. He was the one: he nicked the lot, and the rest. My God! I thought I was too old a fox to be hoodwinked by a rabbit. And he was going to sell her to me, remember? He had it all set up in his own mind. He was taking her for a walk, a fake fight and that would be that. He’d have his thirty quid and I’d have someone I’d been wanting to get my hands on for years, because her mother owed me a lot. My God! Yes, she did.’

  He now turned to Millie. ‘Do you know, my rag nymph, you’re just the spit of your mother? She double-crossed me, she did, using a rope, just before she was due to sail. My God! I could have hung her meself when I had to give that money back. Things weren’t as flush then as they are now. But I’ll get it back with interest, on you! Come here!’ Gripping her again, he hauled her forward and pushed her towards the stairs. And as he did so she screamed; but his only answer to this was, ‘You can scream your head off, dear; nobody will hear you in this quarter because this nice house was made especially for little girls like you; although you’re a little girl no longer; more’s the pity. Still, he’s had his eye on you for a long time and he’ll pay good money. Oh aye, he will, before I let him set his eyes on you. He couldn’t get you on his own and I didn’t seem to be able to oblige him…get up there!’ She had gripped the banister, and he had to push her over the top stair.

  When she fell on her knees, the woman helped her to her feet, saying quietly, ‘Come along; it’s no use.’

  The landing, too, was all red. They had passed three doors on one side, and the woman said, ‘You’ll want number eight?’

  ‘Where else?’

  She opened the fourth door, then said, ‘Stay there, ducks, until I turn the lights up.’

  After attending to the two oil lamps the woman returned and pulled Millie into the room, leaving the man standing in the doorway, and he said, ‘Strip her ready. If he’s at his club, he could be here any time.’ And with this he turned away, closing the door behind him and leaving Millie and the woman looking at each other. Millie began to whimper. Her voice like that of a child’s, she pleaded, ‘Please! Please, let me out. Please! Mrs Aggie has money; she will pay you. Please!’

  ‘It’s no use, lass. Come on, get your things off.’

  When the hands came on her, she slapped them away, still as a child might, saying, ‘No! No, don’t touch me. I won’t take my clothes off. I won’t!’ Then again she was pleading, ‘Please, miss. I have never done anything like…I mean, I know nothing.’

  ‘I know what you mean, love. I know well what you mean. But you’re a big lass and it’s got to happen sometime. And you could have worse ones than you’ll have tonight. Oh aye, I can tell you that. He’s all right. In fact, nothin’ might happen at all with him. You never know. He’s just that kind: he wants to play a bit. Come on, let me have your coat.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘I’ll have to get rough then, because you’ve got to get your things off. And look, I’m tellin’ you’—her voice changed—‘there’s worse things than what you’re in for. By God, yes! And you should be thankful for small mercies. Now come on.’

  With an expert twist, Millie was swung round; her coat ripped off her; her bonnet, which was already hanging by its strings down her back, was thrown aside.

  By the time the woman reached the last petticoat Millie had no fight left in her. When she was stripped naked and sitting on the side of the bed, crouched forward, the woman gathered up her clothes, took them to the door and threw them outside; then came back and, opening a cupboard, took out what looked like a small shift. It was a flimsy thing of very fine lawn, and when it was slipped over her head, reaching only to her knees, Millie crouched further forward and began to moan.

  The woman placed her hand under her chin and lifted her white terrified face towards her, and she whispered, ‘I know who you are. You are Ben’s lass, aren’t you? Listen. I’ll try to get word to him. It won’t be tonight. I’m on duty tonight, but if I can, I’ll slip him the wink tomorrow, somehow. I don’t know what he can do. He’ll likely want to go for the pollis, but that’ll be fatal. You could disappear altogether if that happened. Anyway, I’ll try.’

  Millie was unable to make any response; she was shivering from head to foot; and the woman, throwing back the silk coverlet to expose fine sheets and lace-edged pillow cases, said, ‘Jump in, lass, and keep yourself warm. I’ll make up the fire.’ She nodded towards the end of the room, and Millie followed her gaze, so frozen with fear she hadn’t noticed there was a fireplace in the room. She hadn’t noticed anything about it, but she was to have plenty of time to take in every little detail of it during the next hours, the coming night, and its following day.

  Eight

  It was seven o’clock and Millie hadn’t returned. Ben stood by the couch and looked down on Aggie and she said, ‘Well, she would keep her promise, I know that. They could have been held up on the road. Anything could have happened; more so, they could have been set upon gettin’ here from the stables where his trap’s left. But you say the trap isn’t there?’

  ‘What am I tellin’ you, woman? Have you gone soft in the head? I was there on time to meet her, as I was before, because when you come to think about it she’s got as much knowledge of life outside these gates as he has of life in this quarter.’

  ‘And you’re blamin’ me for that?’

  ‘No, I’m not. If there’s any blame it goes to both of us. But we did it for the best; she had to be protected.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t think I could give her any better protection than the man she’s with now. He’s a decent fella, Ben. Look around you; look where she’s been brought up; and yet he’s so taken with her he’s goin’ to marry her. It seems to have been his intention from when he first saw her, by what she tells me. And he’s been waitin’ until she was sixteen. So, I think that’s very honourable.’

  ‘I have me doubts.’

  ‘What d’you mean, doubts? What could you doubt in a fella like that? He’s been open and straightforward.’

  ‘Aye, apparently. But it’s all been too nice and too straightforward. These things don’t happen, Aggie. Let’s face it, the sleeping beauties are only in fairy tales by the Brothers Grimm.’

  ‘Who? What brothers?’

  ‘Oh, it doesn’t matter.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t matter, but what matters is I’m worried, Ben.’

  ‘Well, you’re not the only one.’

  ‘And here’s me stuck in this bloody kitchen, with me chest burnin’ when I should be out lookin’.’

  ‘Where you goin’ to look? We’ll just have to sit and wait.’

  ‘How long d’you propose to sit and wait?’

  ‘Another hour. And then if she’s not back then, well…’

  ‘Well what? What d’you intend to do then?’

  ‘Well, I intend to hire a cab and go to this wonderful house he took her to, and likely where she still is and bein’ persuaded to stay the night.’

  ‘Oh, you are a bitter pill, Ben! You would think the worst, wouldn’t you? I’m surprised at you, even when I know that this is the best thing that has happened to her, or could happen to her.’

  ‘Aye, perhaps you’re right; but time will tell…Will I heat you some beer?’

  ‘Aye, you could. Put extra ginger into it. Oh God!’ She lay back. ‘I wish I had me life over again. I would never have got to this stage, eatin’, eatin’, eatin’. I was big to begin with, but I could have controlled it if I’d had any sense or will power. But no, I ha
d to comfort meself in food.’

  ‘It could have been worse. It could have been the gin, whole hog.’

  ‘Aye, you’re right there, it could have been the gin…Ben?’

  ‘Aye, Aggie?’ He turned from where he was putting the pan of beer on the fire.

  ‘I’m worried. In a number of ways, I’m worried; and it hasn’t been made better by the dream I had last night, because I saw her—’ She heaved twice now before she finished, ‘She was floatin’ down the canal.’

  The beer splashed over into the fire causing a great hiss. And after Ben had plonked the half-empty pan on to the hob and turned to her, it was as if his voice, too, hissed as he said, ‘For God’s sake, woman! You would say things like that, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Look; don’t take that manner with me. In any case, let me finish: she wasn’t dead, she was sort of clingin’ to a plank and I tried to reach her. I couldn’t, and she went on past me.’

  He turned from her and poured what was left of the beer into a mug and handed it to her, saying, ‘Now, I’m not waiting. If they’re not there I’m getting a cab. It’ll take me an hour and a half to two hours, so you can lie there worryin’ yourself; but don’t go to sleep and have any more of your damned dreams. I’ll take one of the keys with me and lock it from the outside.’

  Ben found no-one at the ostler’s stable. The cabs were all out; there wasn’t even a trap for hire. All that was left was a small flat cart and a work-worn pony. He was more used to this kind of conveyance anyway. But the pony turned out to be not so old as it looked; it was spritely on the road.

  Just before leaving the built-up area of the town, he stopped at a public house and ordered two pints of ale, one of which he himself drank, the other he took outside and gave to the pony, who made short work of it, and then thanked him by trotting briskly for the rest of the journey. Laddie, too, used to love his ale, and he guessed that all his breed were alike and that they worked better on it.