Daisy's Betrayal

by Nancy Carson

  Mrs O’Flanagan nodded. ‘ ’Tis to be hoped so. But if things don’t work out, you know we are here for you.’

  Caitlin put her arms around her mother’s neck. ‘Thank you, Mother. That’s all I needed to hear. I’ll write regularly. And I shall come back and visit you anyway.’

  ‘And this little mite will be grown up by then, I daresay. So when are you leaving?’

  ‘On Sunday.’

  ‘Will you come and see us again tomorrow before you go?’

  ‘If you want me to.’

  ‘Of course we want you to,’ Padraig said stifling a tear. ‘Of course we want you to.’

  The rest of that week, Daisy and John were busy preparing for the long journey to Sorrento. There were clothes to pack, extra medicaments to acquire for Sarah and Dr McCaskie’s bills to pay. Daisy felt she was due a rebate on the rent they hadn’t used but John suggested she would get nothing, having paid in advance and agreed a minimum occupancy of the house. She told her foreman at the stamping works that she did not require the job after all. She duly collected the small amount of wages owing her and said goodbye to Minnie and Maude, and George who collected the finished pressings.

  On the Saturday, the day before they left, John went to visit his mother, with the intention of making his peace. Meanwhile, Daisy took Sarah, walking very slowly as she held onto Daisy’s arm for support, to buy a huge bunch of flowers to put on the grave that accommodated their mother, their father and little Harry. At the graveside, they wept in each other’s arms in mutual consolation, thinking their own thoughts, invoking their own images of their dead family. They wept for different reasons. Daisy mourned the loss of a dear mother and a father who had suffered too much in life. Sarah keened over her easy virtue, and at begetting a bastard child by a villain who could not be brought to book. She wept especially over the loss of that poor, innocent victim that had been in her care but a short while.

  Afterwards, they shopped for bread, cooked meats, cheeses and pickles for sandwiches to sustain them for the first part of their journey.

  ‘I think John’s ever so brave, offering to take me and Caitlin to live with you in Italy,’ Sarah said as they walked slowly back home.

  ‘But that’s John. He realised I wouldn’t be able to leave you behind.’

  ‘Not like Lawson Maddox.’ There was palpable scorn in Sarah’s voice.

  ‘Not like Lawson Maddox.’ Daisy turned to look at Sarah. ‘But I’m glad you’re all coming. I’ll be able to keep an eye on you. On Caitlin as well. I daresay it’ll all turn out for the best. I know Italy will be kind to you. You’ll make a complete recovery there. That’s what John’s counting on. For Caitlin as well – she’s still vulnerable, you know.’

  Sarah nodded. ‘I know. But she’s stronger than me. I’m trying hard to be like her … to be like you as well, our Daisy.’

  Daisy smiled. ‘If I’d stayed with Lawson, who knows how I might have ended up. There but for the grace of God …’

  ‘Can we stop a bit, Daisy? I need a rest.’

  They stopped and Sarah rested her backside on the window sill of a drapery shop in Hall Street which was, as always, bustling with shoppers. She took several deep breaths.

  ‘Can I ask you something, our Daisy?’

  Daisy looked at her puzzled, wondering what sort of question required her permission for it to be uttered. ‘Ask whatever you like.’

  ‘I suppose you have been … you know … sleeping with John while you’ve been living with him?’

  Daisy looked at Sarah with open-mouthed incredulity, then burst out laughing at her apparent naivety. ‘What a funny question! What do you think?’

  ‘I don’t know what to think. I always think of you being very virtuous and above that sort of thing …’

  Daisy laughed again. ‘Oh, I’m no angel, our Sarah. I’m only flesh and blood.’

  ‘So have you been doing it with him?’ Sarah coloured at raising this sensitive and very private issue. ‘I mean, you’ve shown no signs of being pregnant.’

  ‘Funny you should mention it …’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I missed my last two showings …’

  Sarah’s eyes lit up and she flung her arms around her sister’s neck. ‘You mean …? You mean you are pregnant?’

  Daisy nodded. ‘I do believe I am.’

  ‘But you said nothing.’

  ‘No.’ She shrugged. ‘With everything else going on it seemed so piffling.’

  ‘Piffling? It’s the best news anybody could have. And we needed some good news to fend off the bad. Have you told John?’

  ‘Not yet. Let it be our secret for now, our Sarah. I don’t want to tell him till we’re in Italy. We’ll organise a party and invite our lovely neighbours and I’ll announce it then. It’ll be cause for some celebration, believe me.’

  ‘Pity you’re not married to John, Daisy.’

  Daisy looked at Sarah intently. ‘Who needs a marriage certificate? John and I regard ourselves as married to each other all the same. We took solemn binding pledges in Rome – just between ourselves. Nothing that would be acknowledged by the church or by society … but private pledges that mean everything to us.’

  ‘It sounds so romantic …’

  ‘It was. He’s the love of my life. I’m the love of his. I just thank God we found each other when we did.’

  ‘I do, as well … Oh, I feel better now, Daisy … Your news has done me the world of good …’ Sarah smiled radiantly, the most promising smile Daisy had seen her give. ‘Shall we go on? I think I can make it back now.’

  Sarah and Caitlin looked out excitedly at the drab Black Country world through the window of a hansom, as if they were royalty prepared to smile and wave at everybody they passed. But as people hurried to church in their Sunday best hats and coats nobody was interested in even casting a glance towards the carriage and its occupants travelling towards Dudley railway station. As they were driven down Birmingham Street with its foul, condemned courtyards, Caitlin glanced at Daisy, acknowledging privately that her rival of old had saved her from the life of prostitution that would have inevitably ensued had she remained there. Daisy smiled back knowingly. They turned right into Castle Hill and all Caitlin could see through the window on her side was the high wall that surrounded the castle grounds. Well, if what she had been told was true, the landscapes of Italy would be infinitely more appealing.

  They pulled into Station Drive and, when the driver had unloaded all their baggage and handed it down piece by piece, John paid him.

  ‘Have a good journey, sir.’

  ‘Thanks. We hope so,’ John answered affably.

  They didn’t have to wait long for the Dodger that would take them to Dudley Port. From Dudley Port they embarked on a further journey through mineral-ravaged terrain to Birmingham’s Snow Hill Station where they must change again. At Snow Hill, the acrid smell of steam, scorched oil and smoke and people rushing about with travelling cases, was all vividly new to Sarah. Baby Daisy was awakened by the dissonant roar of monstrous, liveried locomotives and the sibilant clanging of iron buffers as carriages and goods wagons were shunted around, and would not be settled. John bought two Sunday newspapers from Wyman’s to read on the journey to London; the Telegraph and the News of the World. In Bologna he’d been starved of news, he said.

  They boarded the half past eleven for Paddington and found a compartment all to themselves. Caitlin laid the baby down on the seat and allowed her to kick her little legs and gurgle as she sat beside her. Sarah watched, amused and amazed that every day the child showed some evidence of having discovered something new – even one so young.

  ‘So are you very disappointed that your mother still shuns you?’ Daisy asked John.

  ‘Yes, I’m disappointed, my love. But I’m not surprised. She has no idea at all that my father is involved in Lawson’s ignoble businesses. She’s blind to the fact that compared to him I’m a saint. But I wasn’t about to shatter her illusion.’

&nbs
p; ‘Maybe one day she’ll realise. She’s having to demonstrate her loyalty to your father by shunning you. But as your mother, it must be breaking her heart.’

  ‘She showed no signs.’

  ‘But you don’t know what’s going through her mind, John.’

  ‘That’s true. I really don’t.’

  ‘I mean, look how Mrs O’Flanagan welcomed Caitlin back.’

  Caitlin looked up at the mention of her name and smiled. ‘And it’s such a load off my mind. You can’t spend your life at odds with your family.’

  ‘I’m glad you and your family healed the rift, Caitlin,’ John said. ‘As for me, I wouldn’t care if I never so much as crossed my father’s mind again. But my mother is very vulnerable. She’s living in cloud-cuckoo-land. I’ll write to her when we get to Italy. Just to express more eloquently my side of the story. She’ll read a letter. Maybe she’ll begin to understand.’

  After they had been travelling for a while they fell quiet. John, who was looking through the window at the greening fields and trees that were leafing up, complained that he was hungry.

  ‘I wish we could get a cup of tea,’ Daisy said longingly as she unpacked the sandwiches.

  ‘We might have time at Leighton Buzzard or Berkhampsted,’ he answered. ‘They can’t be too far away now.

  They finished their sandwiches and sat companionably, talking about this and that. John eventually fell asleep to the steady rumble and roar of the iron wheels as they click-clacked over the track. His head rocked gently from side to side in concert with the swaying of the railway carriage. Daisy watched him full of love and reverence, and gratitude that he had come to England to take her back to Italy. He was her rescuer, her knight in shining armour. What would she do without him? She looked at Sarah; she too was dozing by this time. There had been such a noticeable improvement in Sarah over recent weeks. The worst was over. They would rear her, she would continue to improve.

  Caitlin, who was feeding the baby, caught Daisy’s eye and smiled contentedly.

  ‘Well I’m not tired, Caitlin,’ Daisy whispered, returning the smile. She picked up the News of the World and scanned the front page.

  Irish home rule took up a great deal of space but the lingering scandal of Charles Stewart Parnell, ‘the uncrowned king of Ireland’, and his lover, the recently divorced Mrs Katherine O’Shea, was predominant. Salisbury’s Conservative government was also preoccupied with the partition of Africa, and trouble loomed between other European powers, according to the number of references to it. But Daisy was not interested in politics. The paper rustled as she turned the page.

  She scanned the next sheet and a bold headline caught her eye: ‘White Slavery Rears its Ugly Head Again.’ Curiosity compelled her to read on.

  An off-duty officer of the Brussels Police was horrified last week when a fifteen-year-old girl wearing only a negligée appeared in the Rue St Laurent and was immediately surrounded by a crowd of shocked onlookers. For her own protection the girl was detained by the policeman and taken to the police station for questioning. She informed the police that she had been forced, against her will, into a life of prostitution behind locked doors in a Brussels brothel. She had been unwittingly presented with the opportunity to escape and did not hesitate to take advantage of it.

  The girl, who is English, gave her name as Flossie Kettle, and comes from Dudley in Worcestershire. She was later handed over to Belgian government officials who decided, in the light of past experience, to hand her over to the British Embassy in Brussels for repatriation. She was subsequently escorted from Brussels by two plain-clothes policemen from the Criminal Investigation Department of the Metropolitan Police and returned to Great Britain on Friday. She was taken to the New Scotland Yard headquarters on the Thames Embankment for further questioning.

  A spokesman for the Metropolitan Police told our reporter that Miss Kettle claims her mother had been tricked into selling her for the sum of £5 to a woman posing as an officer for an employment agency that was recruiting young girls for domestic service in prestigious homes in London. In her sworn statement, she also alleged that she was subsequently taken to a house in Dudley where she was given a drug, believed to be chloroform, prior to being medically examined in order, she believes, to ascertain that she was a virgin. From there, she was taken to Brussels, along with three other girls of a similar age, accompanied by a man who was well known to her.

  The Metropolitan Police spokesman has since told our reporter that two people, a man and a woman, have been arrested in Dudley in consequence of these allegations. They are being held on charges of unlawfully abducting a young girl for the purposes of sexual exploitation. The couple are named as Miss Fanny Lampitt, also known as Frances Underhill, and Mr Lawson Maddox, both of Dudley.

  The Belgians’ defensive and prompt response is commendable and borne of a fear of history repeating itself. In 1879 a similar incident occurred, which led to a sequence of events that caused outrage in Belgium and Britain, and deep embarrassment to the Belgian authorities. The moral crusades that followed included the affair concerning Mr W T Stead and his legendary article ‘Maiden Tribute of Modern Babylon’, which were published in the Pall Mall Gazette and caused unprecedented furore. Further revelations made by social reformer Mrs Josephine Butler in her famous Brussels court appearances culminated in the dismissal from duty of Edward Lenaers, Chief of the Brussels Morals Police and the sentencing of twelve brothel keepers. These events brought to public notice the fact that English, Scottish and Irish girls as young as twelve and thirteen were being sold to brothels in Brussels and Paris and traded for sex.

  The events culminated in the passing of the Criminal Law Amendment Act of 1885. The Act made provision for the protection of women and girls and the suppression of brothels. It contained legislation against procuration and defilement of girls under thirteen years of age, particularly by threats, fraud and administering of drugs. It raised the age of consent to sixteen, banned the abduction of girls under eighteen for the purposes of sex and made unlawful the detention of any woman or girl against her will with the intent to have carnal knowledge of her. Furthermore, the Bill gave Justices of the Peace the power to issue warrants to any person looking for a missing female, to search any suspected place.

  The re-emergence of this kind of trafficking in young girls between the two countries is regarded by both governments as highly sensitive. Until this incident, it had been generally believed that the ‘White Slave Trade’ had been eliminated.

  The police are continuing to gather evidence against Miss Lampitt and Mr Maddox and are confident that there will be sufficient to bring them to trial in the near future. Meanwhile, Miss Kettle has been happily reunited in Dudley with her widowed mother, Mrs Molly Kettle.

  Daisy slumped back in the seat, wallowing in the sweet relief and satisfaction that this astonishing news engendered. She could hardly contain her excitement. For weeks, ever since she had known of Lawson’s abominable antics in prostituting Sarah and Caitlin, she had tried every means available to bring him to account. To no avail. Now, little Flossie Kettle had done it for them all and Daisy was wild with hope. Lawson was getting his come uppance after all.

  As the train rattled on, she tried to relax in the knowledge that she was safe at last from Lawson Maddox and his further vindictiveness. He had wreaked his havoc. Now Sarah was safe. Caitlin was safe. So was Flossie Kettle. But this news was momentous and she could not relax. Her heart trembled with elation. If anybody deserved to be put away, he did. She only hoped that with the overwhelming evidence that had come to light through Flossie, further incriminating evidence would not be covered up by policemen or lawyers who had something to hide …

  ‘Caitlin, let me hold the baby,’ she said. ‘You must read this. I think you’ll find it very interesting.’

  She handed over the newspaper as she leaned forward to take the baby, then holding her in her arms, she watched Caitlin’s changing expression.

  ‘My God!’ Caitl
in exclaimed, her eyes wide with wonder. ‘They’ve got him. They’ve got him, Daisy. And we thought he would get off scot-free.’

  ‘It was always a mystery to me what had happened to little Flossie Kettle,’ Daisy said. ‘I’m so glad she’s been found, she was such a sweet young girl. Her mother admitted to me that she’d sold her. But I never dreamed that Lawson could have had anything to do with it. I can’t believe I was ever so naïve about him. There’s no limit to what he’s capable of, Caitlin. What’s made him like he is, I wonder?’

  Caitlin shook her head and said she could hardly imagine. Daisy looked at John who was still dozing and prodded his thigh to wake him up. He had to know at once. John woke up and looked about him disoriented for a second or two. He looked at Daisy. Her bright eyes were alight with an intensity he had never seen before. He smiled at her expectantly.

  ‘What? Have we arrived?’

  ‘No, not yet.’ She eased herself forward on the seat excitedly and touched his hand. ‘Quick, John, read this. You must read it at once. Tell me what you think.’

  Daisy handed him the newspaper and pointed out the article. She watched intently how his face changed as the import of the news registered.

  ‘That’s fantastic! My God! Serves the blighter right.’

  ‘But what should we do, Gianni?’ she asked animatedly. ‘Should we go back and give evidence against him?’

  He pondered a moment. ‘No. It strikes me there’ll be enough evidence already available to put him away for a very long time. Other folk are bound to come forward, possibly even your Dr McCaskie. We won’t be the only people outraged at what he’s done.’

  ‘But what if your own father is implicated?’

  ‘That’s his affair. But somehow I don’t think he will be. He’ll have covered his tracks if I know him. I imagine he’s already sold his remaining properties to Lawson anyway.’

  ‘Do you think I would be able to get a divorce from Lawson on the back of all this?’

  ‘I’d say it’s doubtful, although I’m no legal expert. The two issues are unconnected, I would’ve thought. One is against the Crown, the other is a civil matter. I’d let him stand trial first and be convicted. Besides, any divorce application from you might only serve to confuse the prime case against him. Next time we return to England, in a couple of years or so, seek legal advice then. Who knows what might have happened by that time. In any case, divorced or not, it won’t affect our lives together.’