A Daughter's Journe

by Anna Jacobs

  She sighed, wishing she didn’t have to deal with Rathley but there you were. Life didn’t often push you along the easiest path.

  Taking a deep breath she moved towards the front door. She’d get rid of him as quickly as she possibly could.

  It felt chilly outside after the overheated little house, so Tess walked briskly along the narrow ginnel that ran along the back of the houses and pub, intending to take refuge in her favourite hiding place in the park, the ramshackle bandstand where concerts were given sometimes on Sundays in the summer. The park was in the better part of Birch End, so there were rarely people around this late, unlike the streets near her home.

  The air was so still, she could hear the faint sound of the town hall clock striking down in Rivenshaw, marking what she was sure would be a long hour or two of waiting till Donny came to find her.

  She’d hidden some old sacks under the rickety bench at the rear of the bandstand and no one seemed to have disturbed them. The sacks helped keep her warm when she had to get out of the house. To her dismay, tonight some lads were kicking an old football around in front of the bandstand using the two lampposts in front of it as goalposts. She knew those lads. They threw stones at her sometimes in the street. She didn’t want them to catch her on her own here or they might really hurt her.

  She circled past them to get to the shrubbery on the far side of the wooden structure, silent as a ghost. She had another hiding place in the middle of this shrubbery, but no way of keeping warm there. She knew just about all the places to hide in Birch End.

  As she bent to push the shrubs apart, a hand grabbed her arm and she let out a yelp of fear.

  ‘I’m a policeman,’ the man said. ‘I’m not going to hurt you, lass.’

  When she saw his uniform, her fear subsided a little. ‘Oh. All right.’

  ‘What are you doing out at this hour of the night?’

  ‘My mam sent me out. She wanted to be private with, er, someone.’

  ‘You’re shivering. You should be home in your bed.’

  ‘I have some sacks in the bandstand and I usually stay there, but those boys kicking a football about would have seen me. They like tormenting people.’

  ‘Well, they ran off home when they saw me, and I’m going to send you home as well.’

  ‘I can’t go home yet. Please. I’ll be all right now those boys have gone. I’ll hide in the bandstand.’

  ‘You’ll be even better off at home at this time of night.’

  ‘No. I won’t.’ Tess looked at him pleadingly. ‘Mam’s got a man visiting her. I come here sometimes when that happens. I’ll go home soon.’ She tried to pull away, but his hand only tightened on her arm.

  ‘Oh, no, lass. I’m coming with you and making sure you get there safely. I don’t know what your mother thinks she’s doing, sending you out on your own at this hour of the night. What’s her name?’

  ‘Moira Tayner.’

  ‘Ah. I see. I know her but I haven’t seen you around. Anyway, it’s going to rain soon, so I’m not leaving you out here.’ He kept a firm hold of her arm and set off, dragging her when she hung back.

  ‘Mam will be angry and he will be even angrier.’

  ‘Who is he?’

  She was too afraid to tell him that. ‘I – um, don’t know his name.’

  ‘I’ll find out when we get there. Come on.’

  She wanted to cry as she stumbled along, it was so humiliating being taken home like this. And if the policeman saw him, Mr Rathley would get angry at her and her mother, and he’d probably hit out at them when the policeman had gone. He was noted for thumping women, didn’t care who he hurt. He’d slapped her when she was smaller if she made a noise, but not lately – no, lately he’d looked at her in a way she hated. She’d rather have been slapped than see him do that any time.

  Her mother kept saying that the day was getting closer when they’d have enough money saved to move away. It couldn’t come too soon for Tess. Until now, she hadn’t been caught when she went out to hide, because once she got away from the streets there weren’t many people around.

  How had she missed seeing or hearing this policeman approaching tonight? She tried one last time to plead with him to let her wait in the bandstand. Her mother would be so angry about this and he would be even angrier if he was still there.

  She thought about that. He probably would be. He took a longer time to do the job lately.

  Her mother had promised to keep her safe from him, whatever it took, and had managed it so far. Now, what was going to happen?

  As soon as the front door was unlocked, Rathley pushed his way into the little house. Moira shut the door behind him and turned to face him. ‘I’m not working tonight, Clarence. I’m not well.’

  ‘I haven’t come about you. It’s the girl I want, and I intend to have her this very night. I’ve waited long enough.’

  ‘She’s not old enough yet. She hasn’t started her monthlies, even, so she’s still got a child’s body. You’re rough. You could damage her permanently.’

  He waved one hand dismissively. ‘It always hurts them the first time. She’ll recover. Now, fifty pounds and she’s mine till I tell you I’ve had enough. I’ll still let you keep her here, and you can carry on working, but if she learns to please me I might set her up somewhere a bit nicer. Mind, no one else is to touch her. And fifty pounds is my final offer, as I told you last time.’

  ‘Tess needs another few months’ growth yet. I won’t risk her being damaged or she’ll be no use to me after you’ve grown tired of her.’

  ‘I’m not waiting any longer, woman. Get her ready. I’ll break her in tonight.’ Starting to feel excited, he fumbled in his pocket and brought out a bundle of five-pound notes, slapping them down on a low table.

  ‘She’s not here,’ Moira said at once.

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ Rathley moved towards the stairs and when Moira tried to bar the way, he shoved her aside so roughly she fell to her knees.

  When she was alone, she picked up the money and hid it. If there was one thing she’d learned in this business, it was to have a good hiding place for money.

  Upstairs Rathley explored the two bedrooms, the one Moira used for customers and the even smaller one her daughter slept in. The girl was nowhere to be found.

  He went storming downstairs. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Out at a friend’s.’

  ‘Then send that stupid creature you keep in the kitchen to fetch her. He was asleep when I went in. He doesn’t even earn his keep.’

  ‘He’s got a cold. He’s not well either.’

  ‘Well, cold or not, send him to fetch her back.’

  ‘He doesn’t know where she is. He can only find his way to places he knows. Anyway, this friend doesn’t know him, so won’t let her leave. I keep my daughter safe, Clarence.’ It was a moment before she added, ‘You’ll be glad of that one day, but not yet.’

  Rathley glared at her, sure she was telling lies. She’d been putting him off for a while now. Perhaps she was trying to get another man to pay more for the girl. She’d hinted she might do that if he didn’t pay what she wanted. Thinking of this possibility made him so furiously angry, he hit her as hard as he could, so hard she tumbled sideways across the room like a helpless rag doll.

  When he took a step towards her, she jumped to her feet and pulled a knife out of her pocket. He jerked to a halt.

  ‘Don’t you dare touch me.’ She raised her voice to call, ‘Donny!’ but it came out croakily and her protector didn’t answer.

  With a laugh, Rathley stepped forward again. ‘Looks like he’s gone out, too. Good. I’m going to teach you to obey me from now on.’

  She waved the knife to and fro. ‘If you touch me, I’ll stab you where it’ll hurt most. I mean it.’

  He kicked out, taking her by surprise, his heavy boot again sending her flying sideways. She let out a little cry that cut off abruptly as she fell, but as he moved forward she didn’t try to roll away or get
up, just lay there, face down.

  Puzzled, Rathley paused, wondering if this was a trick. Then he saw a trickle of blood leak from underneath her body on to the pale, threadbare rug. For a few seconds he couldn’t move, couldn’t think, because there was such a lot of blood. Where could that be coming from? He’d only kicked her. Kicks bruised you, not cut you open.

  Bending, he rolled her over, gasping at the sight of the knife hilt protruding from her belly, feeling the warmth of her blood pulsing out on to one hand and on to his clothes where he was leaning against her. He edged backwards in case she lashed out at him, but she didn’t move. She was still letting out faint, fluttery breaths but she wasn’t conscious.

  He looked round for the fifty pounds but it had vanished. Where the hell had she put it?

  He hesitated, unwilling to search her body, then heard a footstep and turned to see Big Donny standing in the doorway to the kitchen, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

  Rathley ran to the front door and fumbled with the handle, expecting at any moment to be grabbed by her huge protector.

  But Donny had fallen to his knees beside his mistress, whimpering, and begging her to wake up.

  Flinging open the door, Rathley stumbled outside and slammed it shut. He stopped for a moment to stare down at his hand and clothing. Those stains would give him away. The last thing he wanted was for people to link him to this – this damned accident. It was her knife, her fault, but people might try to blame him.

  He had to get home quickly and get out of these clothes, burn them or something.

  For a few seconds he couldn’t move, then realised he was in luck and there was no one in the alley. He took a step forward intending to hurry off down the street, but heard footsteps and saw the long shadow thrown by a street lamp. Oh, hell! Someone was coming. He turned and hurried into the narrow ginnel leading off the rear end of the alley, breaking into a shuffling run. He was panting by the time he passed the rear of the Packman’s Arms.

  He was going to wipe some of the blood off on the wall, but then it occurred to him that someone might see it and work out which way Moira’s assailant had gone. No, better if he didn’t leave a trail.

  He didn’t allow himself to whimper, but he wanted to. Oh yes, he did. Because unless he found some way to keep his presence at her house tonight secret, they’d arrest him, charge him with murder and hang him, even though it’d been an accident.

  And Big Donny would be able to tell them he’d been there, unless … maybe he could find a way to blame the accident on the stupid fellow. If it was his word against the idiot’s, they’d believe him … wouldn’t they?

  He couldn’t get over the irony that it really had been an accident. She’d fallen on her own knife. But who would believe that?

  And what had she done with the money? He’d have to accept its loss, he decided. He wasn’t going back to search. Only … perhaps she had more money hidden away if she had a hiding place already? He’d have to think about that. He hated losing money.

  He realised he’d stopped moving, but luck was still with him and although a woman came out of the back door of the pub and dumped some things in the rubbish bin, she was yawning sleepily and didn’t even look round, let alone notice him.

  He let out a long, slow breath of relief and took a moment to check that his clothes were tidy with his clean hand. He could feel the stickiness of the blood on the fingertips of his other hand and looked down in disgust at it, dark-looking blood in the faint light coming from the pub window.

  He set off again, hadn’t walked this fast for years and he was soon panting, so had to slow down. By using the back alleys and climbing over a stile into a field, he almost managed to keep away from people.

  Only once was it unavoidable, so he hid his face from the young couple as he passed them. They were more interested in one another than in him, and didn’t even spare him a second glance, thank goodness.

  It was only a few minutes’ walk from the slum to his own home in Birch End, but it seemed to take a very long time to get there.

  Hobbs had been keeping watch on the alley again, for lack of anything better to do. He saw Rathley come out of Red Moira’s front door then stop and look round as if afraid of being seen. He hadn’t looked afraid as he went into the house, had kept hammering on the door angrily. So what had happened to him inside?

  There was enough light from the window for him to see that there was something dark on the hand that Rathley was holding awkwardly away from his clothes. It must be something dirty from the way he looked down at it. The watcher grinned. He’d always had good eyesight. Very useful, that was.

  He couldn’t see enough from here, though, to work out what sort of muck it was. Strange. Gentlemen didn’t usually dirty their damned soft hands when visiting whores. From the horror on Rathley’s face as he stared at the hand, it was something very unwelcome. Only a couple of things you wouldn’t want on your hand came to mind but surely it couldn’t be the worst one, which left only blood.

  When Rathley set off along the rear ginnel, the man decided to follow him by the front route. He passed the front of Packman Alley and stopped at the other side of the pub. Yes, Rathley was there. He’d stopped. Hobbs hid behind a barrel, able to watch through the gap between it and the wall. He watched Rathley try to tidy himself without using that hand, then set off running. Well, trying to run. He was too old and fat to move fast.

  Intrigued, Hobbs speeded up till he was close enough to keep an eye on Rathley but not too close. He smiled as his prey slowed down again, hearing him panting in the quietness away from the pub. What had set that arrogant sod sneaking out round the back of Moira’s house as if he was scared of something? Why hadn’t he left the alley the usual way?

  Was there some profit to be gained from finding out? There must be, surely.

  When Rathley detoured through two back alleys, and even climbed a stile to get through a field, heading towards the posh part of Birch End where he lived, Hobbs grew more puzzled – and more interested. Something was definitely going on. He’d never seen Rathley do anything except strut about like he owned the world before, but tonight the arrogant sod was terrified of something from the expression on his face. But what?

  A young couple came towards him across the field, arms linked, eyes only for one another, and Hobbs quickly slipped behind a tree.

  He continued to follow Rathley, saw him reach his own home soon afterwards and it was quite easy to get close to the house without being noticed. Instead of going in through the front door, Rathley went in through the French windows of a room at the side.

  He switched on an electric light inside and the watcher crept forward thinking: Thank you for that, Mr Rathley. Very helpful. I can see you much better now.

  The light was bright enough to shine on the hand that reached up to close the big windows. It was jerked back and the other hand was used. Yes, that stain was blood. Hobbs could see the colour now. Whose blood was it, though? Someone else’s, obviously, because Rathley wasn’t moving as if the hand or any other part of him was injured.

  Had the sod hurt Red Moira badly enough to make her bleed all over him? He could be a rough devil with women, everyone knew that.

  The curtains were drawn to cover every inch of the windows, so Hobbs risked going closer. As there was nothing wrong with his hearing, he recognised the sound of a key turning in the lock on the inside and bolts being clicked into place. He stayed watching the house for a little longer but the light went off inside that room almost immediately.

  No lights were switched on downstairs but one appeared on the first floor, Rathley’s bedroom, probably. It stayed on for a while, then was switched off.

  Nothing more to be found out tonight, Hobbs decided. What could he do with the information he had about Rathley? There must be some way to turn it to his profit.

  After a few moments’ thought, he made his way back to Packman Alley to see if anything was still going on there. To his astonishment, he saw the new constable
standing outside Red Moira’s house as if he was guarding the place.

  He edged closer to a small group of people who were watching from the end of the alley. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Red Moira’s been murdered,’ a woman told him.

  ‘Stabbed to death,’ another added.

  ‘ What? Who killed her?’

  ‘It must have been the idiot.’

  One man shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think so. I was passing by and saw Donny come out screaming for help just as Constable Hopkins turned up with Moira’s daughter. I heard the idiot shout, “He’s killed her! He’s killed her!” so it can’t have been him who did it, can it? Well, he wouldn’t have the wits to blame someone else for it if he had, would he?’

  ‘What did the constable do?’ the man prompted.

  ‘He was just coming into the alley, so when Donny ran out he rushed along it into the house, dragging the girl with him, and after that all hell broke loose. He came out and yelled for someone to take a message. Some passers-by had stopped in the street to see what all the fuss was about, so he sent one man to fetch Sergeant Deemer as quick as possible and said to tell him there had been a murder.’

  ‘Where’s the daughter now?’

  ‘Still inside the house. When she went in, she started screaming and wailing. It fair curdled your blood to hear it.’

  ‘You’d be upset if someone had up and killed your mother,’ someone else said.

  The woman who was doing most of the telling about what had happened didn’t look upset, though. She was excited by it all. Well, it wasn’t every day you had a murder take place on your doorstep, was it?

  ‘It’s just like a show at the pictures,’ she said with relish.

  Hobbs let them speculate about what had happened, wondering how exactly Moira could have been killed, and stepped slowly back. He always preferred to be on the edges of crowds because then it was easier to get away. But he was shocked. Shocked rigid. He hadn’t figured Rathley as being capable of murder.