by Anne Bennett
‘My mother thinks she shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.’
‘Yeah, and she’s bloody right as well.’
As the night wore on, the two men were joined by another mate of Neil’s called Roy, and, in the course of many pints, towards closing time Neil told him about his sister-in-law. ‘What she needs is a good seeing-to,’ Roy said. ‘If she’ll open her legs for a nigger, she’ll open them for anyone.’
‘Yeah,’ Stuart added. ‘Bet she’d welcome good, honest white boys with open arms. Have her begging for it.’
‘Begging for mercy more like, before I’m done,’ Neil said. ‘Come on then,’ he announced, draining his pint. ‘What are we bloody waiting for?’
Lizzie and Celia were both fast asleep, curled up together in the double bed, when the knock came at the door. Lizzie struggled to sit up. Beside her, Celia murmured sleepily, ‘What is it?’
‘Nothing,’ Lizzie answered. ‘Go back to sleep.’
She lit the lamp beside the bed. It was almost half past eleven. Who but someone bent on mischief would call at this time of night? Well, she’d not go down, she thought. Let them knock all they liked, and she thanked God she’d not got out of the habit of locking and bolting doors since the time she was attacked.
Outside in the yard, Neil was annoyed to find the door locked. Few bothered doing that, but he’d got this far and wasn’t going to go home now. ‘Hide in the entry,’ he told Roy and Stuart in a whisper.
‘Why?’ Stuart said, wondering if the idea, formulated over many pints in a congenial pub, was so good now, here in the icy black yard. ‘She’s locked up and gone to bed, man.’
‘Well, she can bloody well wake up,’ Neil hissed. ‘I reckon I can get her to open the door, but she won’t if she sees you.’
‘I don’t know.’
Roy, however, was turned on by the whole experience. He hadn’t had a woman in weeks and his groin ached with desire; he was in no mood to go home unsatisfied. ‘Give him a chance, man.’
Stuart was still doubtful. He shook his head. ‘I dunno.’
‘Well, go home if you’ve lost your bottle,’ Roy said.
Stuart couldn’t go home. He lived miles away. He’d only intended staying at The Bell for the one that night to settle his nerves after his encounter with Lizzie earlier. It was Neil’s offer of a bed for the night that had encouraged him to stay on. And so, now, he had little choice and he melted into the darkness alongside Roy.
Neil banged the door again, but this time he called, ‘Lizzie, it’s me, Neil.’
Neil! Lizzie eased herself out of bed to avoid rousing Celia, pushed her feet into slippers and grabbed a warm shawl from the wardrobe to cover herself, for the room was like an ice box. She lifted the blackout shutters from the window and peered out, but could see nothing.
With a sigh of annoyance, she got the lamp from the side of the bed and lit it. She slid up the window, letting blasts of damp, sooty air into the room. Risking the warden, she leant out, her arm extended, and in the light she saw Neil standing swaying in the yard. He was drunk, she realised, and she wanted no tête-à-tête with him in that condition. ‘Neil, go home!’ she pleaded. ‘Whatever it is can wait until morning.’
‘No, it won’t,’ Neil insisted. ‘It was summat our Steve wanted me to tell you. This is the first chance I’ve had.’
If Lizzie was suspicious at all, she thought it only a little odd that Steve could have instructed his brother with any message of importance. But it probably wasn’t that important—in his drunken state it just appeared so.
‘Neil, it’s late.’
‘Come on, Lizzie. It will only take a minute.’
Lizzie gave a sigh. She had no wish to go downstairs and speak to Neil, but she guessed he wouldn’t be easy to persuade to go home, at least not without raising the court. And she couldn’t stand at the window all night, letting the night air waft over those still sleeping, not to mention risking a two-hundred-pound fine if the warden was to catch sight of the light and could trace its source. ‘All right,’ she snapped. ‘You are a nuisance, Neil, and a couple of minutes is all you’ll have.’
She closed the window and snuffed out the light and Neil allowed himself a smile of triumph. Roy and Stuart had heard the conversation and moved into position behind him. Lizzie considered dressing, but decided against it. If she did that, Neil might take it as an indication to stay later, so she held the shawl wrapped about her while she ran down the stairs. She poked life into the fire and lit the gas lamps, but turned them low before she went to open the door.
Her first impression of Neil, whom she’d not seen for nearly six months, was that the army had made a man of him. He’d never be tall, but the way he stood so straight made him appear taller. His eyes seemed darker and even his skin more defined, but his mouth was slack and his words slurred. ‘Hello, Lizzie.’
‘Neil.’ Lizzie inclined her head and opened the door wider. She wasn’t afraid of Neil, but she was cautious. She knew Flo would have wasted no time telling her son about the half-caste child and might not have told him anything at all about the attack, either when it happened or since, but at least the message from Steve wouldn’t have any connection with that.
But, suddenly, Neil’s arm shot out and sent the door crashing open, yanking it from Lizzie’s grasp. It twisted her hand so that she cried out with the pain of it, and she lost her grip on the shawl, which fell from her. ‘Told you,’ Neil said to his two mates, who’d crowded in after Neil and closed the door behind them. ‘Gagging for it, she is. Even dressed for the part.’
Paralysing fear gripped Lizzie, but she forced herself to remain calm and she said angrily, ‘How dare you burst in like that. And you, Stuart, is this any way to behave, abusing the hospitality you’ve received here many a time?’
Before Stuart could answer, Neil sneered, ‘Like you abused your marriage vows, playing the field while my brother risked his life daily, until in the end you gave birth to a black man’s baby.’
‘That wasn’t how it was, Neil, really it wasn’t,’ Lizzie said, desperately trying to pierce through his befuddled brain. ‘I’ll tell you what really happened sometime. When you’re sober perhaps.’
It was a mistake telling Neil he was drunk. Neil grabbed Lizzie suddenly by the front of her nightdress and said in a voice full of venom, ‘You’ll tell me nothing. I don’t want your version of anything because I wouldn’t believe a word you say, anyroad. You’re a lying whore.’
Even as Lizzie protested, Neil pushed her away a little and powered his right fist into the side of her cheek. The suddenness of the assault caused Lizzie to stagger slightly and she put a hand to her throbbing cheek as tears trickled from her eyes. Her mind was telling her to stay upright, not let herself fall, but she couldn’t keep upright after the second blow to the other side of her face and she sank to her knees.
Maybe this was it, she thought. This was what Neil wanted, to beat her because of the false tale Flo had told him, or at least she must have omitted to tell him the whole truth so he’d assumed the rest and he’d come to avenge his brother. But still she would not allow herself to show fear. By God, she thought wryly, that convent was a good training-ground for most situations.
She’d seldom seen a man so angry as Neil that night. Even when she’d annoyed Steve in some way, she’d never seen him look as murderous as his brother did at that moment. And that was the word, murderous: from his dark, forbidding eyes in a face brick-red and swollen in temper, to the spittle forming around his mouth. It caused a shudder of fear to trail down Lizzie’s spine like an icy finger and she swallowed the lump in her throat. Her own voice was slurred because one of her lips was split as she said, ‘Well, Neil, I hope you’re satisfied. I expect there was no message from Steve at all. I would say that all this has the markings of your mother on it.’
‘You sodding bitch!’
The third blow caused Lizzie to fall to the ground with a groan. Blood was running from her lip and gushing fro
m her nose and Stuart looked from her to Neil with distaste. ‘There was no need for that.’
‘There was every need.’
Roy, on the other hand, had been excited by the violence of it, and his erection was so strong it made him say, ‘For God’s sake, hurry. If you aren’t man enough to take her, then I will.’
‘Piss off!’ Neil said. ‘That pleasure is all mine. You take your bloody turn.’
Lizzie forced herself back to reality and she told herself she couldn’t lose consciousness. She was about to be violated a second time. Jesus Christ! She’d fight this time. And she fought, valiantly, lashing out with her hands and nails, which she raked down Neil’s face, and then kicked at him as he came nearer.
But, eventually, Roy held her legs and Stuart had a hand over her bruised mouth, so that the scream she gave changed to a strangled yelp. Neil was astride her, her nightdress pulled up to her shoulders, and he was fingering her with one hand and unzipping himself with the other. Panic coursed through Lizzie for she knew she was helpless to do anything to stop this.
But the yelp Lizzie gave had roused Celia. In the darkness Celia felt the bed beside her and, finding it empty, she struggled to sit up. The child still slept peacefully, she could hear her shallow breathing, so the sound hadn’t been from her. She lit the lamp beside her bed and in its light saw the blackout shutters had been removed from the windows, and she remembered the knock earlier at the door.
Surely now she could hear the mumble of voices in the room below. And she could, for Neil had his throbbing penis between his hands and he was saying to Lizzie, ‘By Christ, I’m going to enjoy this and we’ll take you one by one till you cry for mercy.’
Celia got up and, without stopping to cover herself and not owning slippers, she ran across the room and down the stairs, hardly feeling in her sudden anxiety the icy chill of the lino. She stopped for a brief second in the doorway and took in the scene. Some man she’d never seen before was astride Lizzie; no prizes for guessing what he was at and he’d already left his mark on her, or someone had. Her face was a mass of bruised pulp covered in blood, and her two eyes were like mere slits.
She only recognised one of the men and that was the one with his hand over Lizzie’s mouth. He was Stuart, who’d been at the house earlier. Lizzie had said he was a friend of Steve’s and she’d not taken to him then, nor she’d seen had he believed Lizzie’s story of the rape, so this visit presumably was to teach Lizzie a lesson.
Over her dead body!
No one had noticed Celia, intent only with Lizzie, and none of them knew Celia would be in the house. Even though Stuart had seen the girl with the beautiful face and shapely figure and straight, cropped hair earlier, her presence had not been explained, nor had she been introduced, and he’d presumed she was a neighbour.
Flo had thought the same and hadn’t bothered mentioning the girl to Neil at all, so when Celia cried, ‘Get your fucking hands off her!’ Stuart and Roy turned. Neil barely heard her words. He was rubbing his penis with one hand and so close to his goal, he was unaware of much around him and his breath was coming in short gasps. Then, catching sight of Celia, he burst out, ‘Oh God. You want a bit, do you? You’ll have to wait your turn.’
Only Stuart saw that Celia was enraged. Roy was too taken by her body to notice. He licked his lips. By Christ, he’d have this one first, whatever Neil said, and soon, before his aching dick exploded altogether.
‘I said, get your fucking hands off her.’ Celia sprang across the room as she spoke, picking up the poker as she ran, and as Neil continued to rub his penis between his hands she clouted him roundly on the head before he had recovered his wits about him to even try and protect himself.
Lizzie felt Neil’s weight roll off her and she arched her back with such suddenness Roy let go of her feet. At the same time, she manoeuvred her mouth, for Stuart had relaxed his hold a little, and she bit hard between his thumb and first finger with all her might. He leapt up with a howl, his finger dripping blood, but Roy was more concerned with Neil comatose on the floor.
‘You’ve killed him,’ he said to Celia, who still held her menacing stance, poker at the ready, as Lizzie gingerly got to her feet and held on to the mantelshelf to steady herself as the room tilted and dipped before her.
Lizzie was shocked by Roy’s words; not so Celia. ‘If I have,’ she said, ‘it’s no great loss.’
‘Celia!’
‘Have you seen your face, Lizzie, and that’s not the only thing that bugger tried to do. And he brought his mates along to share the fun. Some loss to mankind, that man, whoever he was.’
‘He’s Steve’s brother, Neil,’ Lizzie said, and letting go of the mantelshelf she knelt on the mat where Neil lay and picked up one of his limp hands. ‘He’s not dead,’ she said at last, ‘but I would take him to hospital to be on the safe side.’
‘What about me?’ Stuart asked plaintively.
‘What about you?’ Lizzie repeated, as if in surprise, and then added, ‘I’d get that seen to as well. Human bites are the most dangerous kind, I’ve heard.’
‘We could have the law on you,’ Roy said, and Celia laughed. ‘Oh aye, just try that,’ she said. ‘And we’ll tell the courts how three big, strapping soldier boys inveigled their way in here.’
‘We’d say you knew all about it. We arranged it and you were more than willing.’
And they’d be believed, Lizzie thought, and if there was any doubt the presence of Georgia would put the tin hat on it.
Celia thought the same, but wasn’t going to admit it. ‘We’ll see about that,’ she said. ‘Tomorrow, Lizzie will visit the doctor, and whether she says she walked into a door or tells the doctor what really happened tonight is up to you.’
Stuart saw the steel in the young girl’s eyes and heard it in the timbre of her voice, and he knew Lizzie had a strong ally in her camp. She didn’t even seem to feel at a disadvantage because of the way she was dressed, and she flounced across the room and flung open the door. ‘Now, fuck off before I brain the lot of you, and don’t come back if you know what’s good for you.’
‘We can’t go just like that,’ Roy complained. ‘What we gonna do with Neil?’
‘That isn’t my problem.’
‘I can’t carry him with my bad hand,’ Stuart moaned.
‘You’ll have me in tears in a minute,’ Celia commented sarcastically. She pushed her face right up to Stuart’s and she hissed, ‘I don’t care how you do it, but if you don’t all get out of my sight, and soon, you’ll be lying beside your man, for I’ll give you a clout an’ all.’
‘Come on,’ Stuart said, ‘we’ll handle him between us. The night air might revive him a bit.’
Celia shut the door on them. She would have liked to have slammed it, but for the sake of their other neighbours she didn’t. She heard the latch click and she turned the key in the lock and bolted the door top and bottom before turning to face Lizzie.
Lizzie had retrieved her shawl and was sitting before the fire. She’d put a few nuggets of coal on and she was shivering from head to foot. Celia knelt before her and held her and felt Lizzie’s tears dampen her shoulder. ‘Don’t give in now,’ she urged. ‘This is what they want, you upset like this.’
Lizzie, knowing Celia was right, made an effort to control herself. ‘Flo put Neil up to this,’ she said. ‘He’d never have thought about it himself. I thought she’d been too quiet for too long.’
‘Aye, well I don’t think you’ll be troubled from that quarter again,’ Celia said grimly. ‘What d’you say to me making a cup of tea to settle our nerves, and I’ll try and do something with your face.’
‘You can’t do much with bruises, Celia.’
‘I can wipe off the dried blood that’s smeared all over your face for a start, and warm water might soothe you. Are you sore?’
‘Everywhere,’ Lizzie admitted. ‘And I could murder a cup of tea.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The following evening, Violet
called to tell her the tale of Neil and another man set upon by a gang as they left the pub, and Neil with a lump the size of a duck egg on his head and kept in hospital overnight for observation. But the words died in her throat as she looked at Lizzie’s face. ‘Who did this?’ she demanded. ‘What happened to your face? Is it at all connected with young Neil Gillespie and his injuries?’
Lizzie shrugged. ‘You might as well know it, Violet. You know everything else.’
She told Violet, helped by Celia, of the events of the night before, and though it could have been far more serious, how Celia had reacted caused Violet to smile. ‘Gawd blimey, girl, they should have had you in charge of the army,’ she said. ‘Missed an opportunity there all right. Germans would have turned tail and gone home by now, I reckon!’
‘You’re not far wrong,’ Lizzie said with feeling, for she knew what might have happened if Celia hadn’t arrived on the scene when she did. ‘Celia’s a grand person to have at your back.’
Lizzie refused to go to the doctor. ‘What the hell can he do for bruises anyway?’ She had no desire to go anywhere or be seen by anyone and she seemed struck with a kind of lethargy. Celia, who got on famously with Violet, spoke of her concerns when Lizzie had skulked inside for nearly a week. ‘That last incident seems to have knocked the stuffing out of her,’ she said. ‘I mean, her face is near enough back to normal now.’
‘Let’s face it, she hasn’t much to be cheerful about,’ Violet replied. ‘And I reckon she misses the kids more than she lets on, and with Christmas just around the corner it’ll be worse, I should think.’
‘I know what that feels like, to miss children,’ Celia said, her voice wistful. ‘But she never complains much about it.’
‘Lizzie’s not the complaining type.’
‘She never talks of the money situation either,’ Celia said. ‘But our funds must be getting low and I have no intention of living off Lizzie. I’m going to go for a job in the new year. My hair might be shorter than is fashionable, but at least I don’t look like an escaped convict any more.’
