Stormy Days On Mulberry Lane

by Rosie Clarke

  ‘Well, that was nice of him,’ Peggy said and smiled. ‘How about I treat you all to a piece of apple pie and cream? Young men like you are always hungry! No charge for the pie.’

  ‘Thanks, Peggy,’ the soldier who had spoken of his uncle held out his hand to shake hers. ‘I’m Keith Turner. You’re just as great as my uncle said you were – he said everyone knew Peggy of the Lanes.’

  As she went out to fetch the slices of apple pie, Peggy thought about it and the memory came to her of the man in his early thirties back from the war with a white bandage where his hand should be. She couldn’t recall his name – he’d been one of many soldiers she’d given a free meal to – but she recalled his face and the smile he’d given her when he’d devoured his pie. Bearing four generous slices of pie with a jug of cream, she returned to the bar and served the soldiers. ‘Enjoy yourselves.’

  ‘Thanks, Peggy,’ the four voices chorused as they tucked in with gusto.

  She returned to the bar, serving three regulars. The crush was beginning to wane now and Peggy told Dot she could get off home if she was ready.

  ‘What about you, Peggy? Don’t you need to get home to your family?’

  ‘Shirley is there,’ Peggy replied and smiled. ‘You’ve done enough, Dot. Pearl will scold me if I keep you out too late.’

  Dot chuckled and nodded her head. ‘She probably would, me too for staying out late at my age.’ She finished serving her customer, put the money in the till and then looked at Peggy. Most of the regulars had started to leave and only the soldiers were still enjoying themselves too much to shift. ‘I’ll get off then.’

  Dot left and the last of her regulars followed her out, chatting to her as they went. Peggy glanced at the clock – ten minutes to closing. ‘Last orders, boys…’

  Keith stood up and brought the tray back to the bar with an array of empty plates and glasses. ‘We’re off now, Peggy. Thank you for a good evening. We’ll come back another night if we can.’

  Peggy nodded as they left. It had been a good night. She turned the key and bolted the front door after them and then looked at Pam, who was yawning. Carla still looked wide awake and pleased with herself. ‘You both go up, now. I’ll check the till and put the money away safe and then I’ll let myself out. I’ll take the spare key to the kitchen door and make sure everywhere is shut up safely.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Pam asked. ‘I don’t mind doing it, Peggy.’

  ‘No, I’m used to it, love, and you look tired.’

  Peggy had been on the go all day herself, but she still felt fresh. Perhaps it was because she was used to long hours on her feet and being in the bar made her feel alive and happy. She’d thought about Able, Freddie, Janet, Pip and Sheila, but there had been no word all evening, so she assumed things were the same and that there was no news. Shirley would have told Able to ring the pub had he telephoned home.

  Sighing, she cashed up, made a note of the takings and took the money through to Sheila’s kitchen. Her daughter-in-law had a metal drawer in the pantry where she kept her money from the bar overnight and Peggy locked it safely away. It looked like an ordinary knife drawer, but it was metal lined and very secure. Pip had had it put in for Sheila.

  Thinking of her son made Peggy draw a sobbing breath. She was so worried about him, but she couldn’t give in and rush down there – someone had to keep it all going here and that someone was her. She smiled as she thought of the young soldiers, using their uncle’s story to scrounge a free bit of pie. Not that she’d begrudged it; there was plenty of pie left and she could make more tomorrow.

  Satisfied that all was well, Peggy checked the downstairs thoroughly, all windows and doors were locked and the lights were off. She let herself out, locked the kitchen door and tucked the key safely in her dress pocket.

  It was dark out and the air smelled of a warm day, a little stale and stuffy. She thought it would be nice to have some rain. The weather was sure to break soon now that it was September.

  It was only a few steps to her home, but as Peggy turned into the passageway that led to the back of her house, she hesitated. Sensing that something – or someone – was there in the darkness, the back of her neck prickled and she called out, ‘Who is there? Come out in the light so that I can see you…’

  Suddenly, a slight figure rushed at her, arm outstretched and she saw a flash of silver. Peggy screamed instinctively as the hand clutching the knife stabbed at her arm. She put out her hands to ward off the ball of fury attacking her and struggled to take the knife.

  ‘Why?’ she asked, sensing the name of her attacker instantly. ‘Why do you want to hurt me, Gillian?’

  The only answer was a little scream of anger or distress as Gillian struggled to stick her knife into Peggy’s flesh. As they fought, the blade scored Peggy’s arm and she screamed out in pain. Seconds later, the wriggling, furious girl was dragged off her and Peggy saw the young soldier easily disarm her, the knife clattering to the pavement, where it was picked up by one of his mates.

  ‘Little vixen, ain’t she?’ Keith Turner said and she recognised the young man she’d served earlier with apple pie. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t quicker, Peggy. I thought it was just a little pub fight at the start—’

  ‘You came soon enough,’ Peggy said and became aware of the stinging sensation in her arm. She glanced down and saw she was bleeding.

  Gillian had stopped struggling and suddenly slumped in the soldier’s arm, all her strength seemingly gone.

  ‘Can you bring her inside, please?’ Peggy asked. ‘I need to wash this cut on my arm. We’ll go inside and decide what to do about her…’

  Clutching her arm to stop the blood dripping everywhere, Peggy led the way into her kitchen. Shirley was standing in the kitchen, armed with a wooden rolling pin when they entered, looking apprehensive but ready to strike.

  ‘I heard shouting and a scream,’ she said and then noticed the blood. ‘Oh, Peggy, you’re hurt – let me bind that up for you.’

  ‘In the pantry – I keep a first-aid box there,’ Peggy said. She looked at the two young men. ‘Put her on the sofa over there for me will you please? And that knife… wrap it in a bit of that newspaper and put it under the sink. It may be needed, though I think we need a doctor rather than the police.’

  ‘She was trying to kill you, Peggy,’ Keith said and frowned. ‘This ought to be reported to the police. Do you know her? She’s either mad or bad—’

  ‘A little bit crazy perhaps,’ Peggy admitted. She sat down, feeling a bit weak in the knees suddenly, and looked at Shirley gratefully as she brought the first-aid things and then began to bathe the cut on Peggy’s arm. It wasn’t a deep cut, but it was bad enough to bleed copiously and Shirley applied cold compresses until she stopped the flow and then bound it tightly.

  She looked at Peggy in concern. ‘You’re very pale. Shall I get a doctor?’

  ‘I think I’ll live,’ Peggy said with an attempt at light-heartedness. Her arm was sore and painful and she still felt a bit shaky. ‘Fetch my brandy from the pantry, Shirley. I could do with a drop – and this young man and his friend deserve some too.’

  ‘Thanks, but we won’t,’ Keith told her. ‘We’ve been on beer all night and it doesn’t do to mix it – but what about you and this little wretch?’ He looked down at the girl. ‘You wouldn’t think butter would melt in her mouth now, would you?’

  ‘I think she has a very sad history,’ Peggy said and drank her brandy straight down in one gulp. The strong spirit warmed her, giving her strength and she got to her feet and went to Gillian, bending over her.

  ‘Be careful, Peggy,’ Keith and Shirley warned at the same moment and then smiled at each other.

  ‘What harm can she do without the knife?’ Peggy asked. She looked down at the girl sadly. Her fine hair was matted with filth, her face streaked with dirt, and she looked so thin that it tore at Peggy’s heart. ‘Poor little thing. She is ill, in body and mind.’ Her arm was stinging and for a moment she hesitated, then she
raised her head and looked at Keith. ‘Would you carry Gillian up to my spare room please? I’ll call the doctor to her. It’s what she needs.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Again, Keith and Shirley spoke together and then laughed as Peggy nodded.

  ‘Like minds,’ he said to Shirley and then bent to pick the frail girl up again. ‘Lead the way.’

  ‘I’ll show you,’ Shirley offered and ran ahead.

  When Keith, closely followed by Peggy, arrived, Shirley had the covers back and ready for him to place his small burden onto the clean sheets. ‘She’s filthy – probably has fleas or something,’ he said and looked at Peggy doubtfully.

  ‘They will come out in the wash,’ Peggy said in her practical way. ‘She is what is important here.’

  Keith shook his head and grinned. ‘My uncle was right about you, Peggy of the Lanes. He said you were the nearest thing to a saint he would ever meet and I agree with him.’

  Peggy shook her head. ‘After what this poor child has been through, it’s little enough to do to give her a bed to rest in. By the look of her, I doubt she’ll live long—’

  Gillian’s skin was sallow beneath the dirt, she was like a rag doll, staying where she was placed and showing few signs of life.

  Keith frowned and nodded. ‘She fought me with the last of her strength. You don’t think I harmed her?’

  ‘No, you just stopped her hurting me more,’ Peggy said. ‘Don’t blame yourself, Keith. You only did what was necessary – and the damage was done to this child long ago.’

  ‘I’ll ring the doctor and ask him to come,’ Shirley said. She looked at Gillian’s face, the dark shadows beneath her eyes and purple patches on her cheeks. ‘She may have been beaten, Peggy.’ Lifting Gillian’s dress, she saw similar bruises on her legs and further up. ‘She needs urgent medical attention, I would say.’

  ‘Yes, she does, love,’ Peggy agreed. ‘You’ll make a good doctor, Shirley. I hadn’t noticed the bruising until you said.’ She frowned. ‘Give Doctor Philips a ring. He’s young and won’t mind coming out as much as the older ones.’ She smiled at the young woman. ‘And then you must get off home – or no, of course, you’re supposed to be stopping here. You would have had this room. Never mind, you can use mine. I shall sit up with Gillian.’

  ‘I could walk Shirley home if she likes?’ Keith said with such a hopeful look in his eyes that Peggy smiled inwardly.

  ‘No, I’m stopping here in case Peggy needs me,’ Shirley said. ‘Mum would say I should,’ she added as Peggy was about to protest.

  ‘Yes, all right. They were expecting you to stay here,’ Peggy said. ‘You have my bed. I shan’t need it tonight.’

  ‘I could kip down in your kitchen if you think you might need help in the night?’ Keith offered obligingly, his eyes on Shirley.

  ‘Thanks, love, but we’ll be all right – you can see she’s as quiet as a lamb,’ Peggy said. ‘The doctor will probably give her something to help her rest. Thanks for your help – and come in for a free drink whenever you’re ready, Keith.’

  ‘I’ll be back,’ he said in a way that told Peggy he meant it and the look in his eyes as he looked at Shirley’s retreating back spoke volumes. ‘She’s a lovely girl, isn’t she? Didn’t flinch at the sight of blood either – I’ve seen grown men turn away and vomit for less.’

  ‘Shirley is going to be a doctor,’ Peggy said proudly.

  ‘Yeah?’ He smiled. ‘She’s a special girl…’

  Peggy smiled to herself as he left. Shirley was suffering from a bruised heart after the way Richard Kent had treated her, but there were a lot of young men prepared to worship at her feet – and Keith Turner was just one of them.

  Glancing down at Gillian, she sighed. Perhaps she would just bathe her face, let the doctor see her bruised flesh rather than the layers of dirt.

  Doctor Phillips arrived twenty minutes later. He was still wearing an evening suit and explained that he’d been to a formal dinner party with a group of doctors and medical experts.

  ‘I’d just got in and was having a brandy before bed,’ he explained. ‘So, this is the young lady who attacked you?’ He frowned as his keen young eyes noted the bandage. ‘I’ll check that before I go – but in the meantime, we’d best look at this little one. She has been in the wars from what I can see at first glance. Miss Hart told me there are bruises all over her body…’

  ‘Shirley noticed them first,’ Peggy told him. ‘I’ve given her a little wash – as much as I could, but she moans if I move her much.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ he replied as he gently rolled up her loose-fitting dress, under which were only a grey pair of knickers that had holes in. ‘She has been beaten violently and for a sustained time – it is a wonder that she survived in the first place, but I would imagine she has internal damage which is slowly destroying her.’ He outlined a large black bruise on her abdomen. ‘This shows there is internal bleeding and I’m going to need to take her into hospital tonight, Mrs Ronoscki.’

  ‘Poor Gillian,’ Peggy felt the tears sting her eyes. ‘I hope they catch the brute who did this to her. He deserves to hang.’

  ‘I’d do worse than that to him,’ Doctor Phillips said, looking very fierce for a moment. ‘I’ve seen cases like this before – and I can tell you the men who inflict them are beasts. They aren’t human.’ Clearly angry, he shook his head. ‘The number of young women beaten because they resist being sold to other men would surprise you, but, unless they name their attackers, we can do little to help them.’

  ‘Is there any hope for her?’

  ‘We shall do what we can – at least she will be cared for by kind hands and if there is any spark of life left in there, we’ll nurture it.’ He smiled at her. ‘And now let me look at your arm please.’

  ‘I’m sure Shirley made a good job of it,’ Peggy protested.

  ‘She thought it might need a stich but hadn’t got anything to do it with,’ he told her and gently but firmly removed the bandage. However, after probing it for a few seconds, he nodded. ‘No, that is nice and clean and should heal without stitching – but Miss Hart was right to raise the question. We don’t want to lose our Peggy of the Lanes, do we?’

  Peggy laughed. ‘You’re the second person to call me that this evening.’

  He nodded, humour in the keen intelligent eyes. ‘Didn’t you know how high in local esteem you are held, Mrs Ronoscki? It’s the name a lot of folk give you – I suppose because of the kindness you showed them in the war.’

  ‘I did nothing at all,’ Peggy said, wrinkling her brow. ‘It’s foolish nonsense to think that I did.’

  ‘Well, I’m told differently by a lot of people,’ he said. ‘I’m going to use your phone, if I may, to summon an ambulance and I’ll stay here until it arrives – just in case she takes a sudden turn for the worse…’

  ‘Very well, thank you,’ Peggy said. ‘Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?’

  ‘Coffee if you have it,’ he replied. ‘I had a drop too much wine earlier this evening as it was my night off and I want to have a clear head to write up my notes. I’ll return to the patient when I’ve made the phone call – please stay here until I get back.’

  Peggy sat by the bed, leaning forward to stroke Gillian’s forehead. ‘Poor little girl,’ she murmured sadly. ‘Who did this to you? The wicked devil…’

  Gillian’s eyelids flickered. She opened her eyes and stared at Peggy blankly and her eyes cleared and a tear rolled from the corner of her eye. ‘Peggy—’ she whispered. ‘I’m sorry for taking your things—’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Peggy said instantly and touched her hand softly. ‘Don’t worry, love. You’re ill, but the doctor will make you better.’

  Gillian’s eyes moved from side to side as though seeking something. ‘Don’t let them hurt me again… please don’t let them hurt me…’ She clutched at Peggy’s hand as it rested next to hers on the bed. ‘Don’t send me away – they’ll find me and kill me—’

  ‘Who
was it?’ Peggy asked urgently. ‘Who beat you like this? Tell me and the police will arrest whoever it was.’

  ‘Olivant…’ Gillian breathed the one word and then closed her eyes again just as the doctor entered the bedroom.

  ‘Was she conscious a moment ago?’ he asked and Peggy nodded, tears on her face as she looked up.

  ‘She asked me not to send her away because they would get her and kill her—’

  ‘Someone has had a good go at it,’ the doctor said, frowning. ‘Did she name him?’

  ‘She said Olivant, at least that’s what it sounded like…’

  ‘I’ve never heard that name before,’ Doctor Phillips frowned. ‘I did hear of someone called Olly Want, he runs prostitutes and I know he has beaten some of his girls pretty badly in the past.’

  ‘That fits with something a police officer told us when Gillian ran away before,’ Peggy said thoughtfully. ‘I’ll have a word with him in the morning.’

  ‘Yes, you do that – it’s time some of these people were punished.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘If you made that coffee, Mrs Ronoscki, I might just have time to drink it before the ambulance comes. I’ll watch over her, don’t worry.’

  Peggy blinked away her tears and went downstairs to make a pot of coffee. She carried it up to the bedroom. Gillian was still lying there. She didn’t look to have moved, her breathing still shallow and even, her face almost colourless. She handed the doctor his coffee and bent over the girl, kissing her on the brow.

  ‘I forgive you, Gillian,’ she said. ‘I pray that God will bring you through – and if you live, I’ll do whatever I can to help you.’

  ‘That was delicious,’ Doctor Phillips said just as they heard the scrunch of tyres outside as the ambulance drew up. Peggy was on her feet and downstairs opening the door to them before they knocked.

  She didn’t follow them up but waited for them to come down with Gillian on a stretcher. Doctor Phillips followed and stopped to speak to Peggy.