by June Tate
Amy was stricken with fear; she couldn’t move. Dutchy crossed the room, moving swiftly for such a big man.
‘How did you get in?’ she cried.
He ignored her question. Putting out a hand he grabbed her by the neck. He put his large hand across her mouth to stifle the scream that rose in her throat.
Terrorised, she tried to struggle. She saw the excitement reflected in his eyes.
Taking a knife out of his belt, he laid the cold blade against her cheek. ‘You don’t want to die, do you?’
Fearful that he would cut her she shook her head, slowly.
‘Good. You make one sound – it’ll be your last. Understand?’
She nodded and stared at the Dutchman, mesmerised by the cruel eyes staring right back at her. She saw his tobacco-stained teeth as he grinned with pleasure.
Amy’s heart was thudding so hard she felt it was going to burst. She could hardly breathe. As he removed the knife she felt faint with relief. Please God don’t let him hurt me, she prayed as Dutchy began to remove her clothing. The feel of his fingers on her flesh made her feel sick. He removed her coat but he couldn’t undo the buttons on her blouse quickly enough. He sliced the front of the garment open. Amy felt the trickle of blood on her skin.
She began to shake.
She saw him smile as he gazed upon her bare breasts. She flinched as he enclosed one in his enormous hand, squeezing it crudely. His eyes glittered as she gave a cry of pain. He slapped her face.
He pushed her to her knees and opened his trousers. She tried to resist him as he pushed her down on the ground, flat on her back, and wrenched up her clothes, but he was too strong for her. She clawed at him frantically, to get his sweaty hands off her, but when he held the knife to her throat, she lay still.
He laughed as he ripped her undergarments and parted her legs. Thrusting himself inside her, he covered her mouth with his. She felt his hot skin on her face and caught the odour of his bad breath mixed with the taste of stale beer.
She lost consciousness for a moment and was only vaguely aware of the Dutchman getting hastily to his feet before she passed out again. Then sounds began to penetrate the fog around her – a voice; knocking on the front door; and the slamming of a door at the back of the house as her assailant fled.
‘Amy!’ called Tom. ‘Open the door. It’s me, Tom McCann.’ He tried the handle of the door and to his surprise, it opened. Stepping inside he called, ‘Amy! Where are you?’
He waited for an answer but heard instead a sound like an animal in torment. Turning on the light, he saw before him on the floor a figure, huddled in a small ball.
‘Christ! What’s happened, Amy love?’ He rushed over to her, lifting her to a sitting position. It was then he saw that the shredded blouse was soaked with blood and her other clothes were in disarray. She looked at him with a glazed expression in her eyes. ‘Amy!’ he pleaded. ‘Speak to me.’ But she just stared at him vacantly.
Gently picking her up, he placed her in a chair. After a quick search of the downstairs, he raced upstairs, did a lightning check that the place was empty, then pulled a blanket off the bed. He ran back down again, nearly tripping in his haste. Solicitously, he tucked the blanket around the injured woman. ‘I’m going to telephone for an ambulance,’ he told her, and went out into the street.
When he returned, he sat holding her until it arrived.
‘What happened?’ asked the driver, as he stooped beside Amy.
‘I don’t know. I found her like this about twenty minutes ago. She hasn’t spoken since.’
‘We’ll get her to the South Hants Hospital – they’ll take care of her. Can you come along? They’ll need some details – her name and so on.’
Tom nodded. ‘Yes, of course.’
He would have to let Lily know. He was terrified that Dutchy had got to Amy and taken his revenge. If so, Tom would have to sort him out for good and all. Poor Amy. She didn’t deserve to be treated like that. His one worry was that she might not recover. Yes, he’d inform Lily as soon as he could.
Early the next morning, a quiet tap on the bedroom door woke Lily. Slipping out of bed, she ran across the room and opened the door. Outside stood Beatrice, an anxious look on her face.
‘Sorry to wake you, Miss Lily, but there’s a man downstairs asking for you. He says it’s an emergency. His name’s Tom McCann.’
Lily felt her heart constrict. She glanced back at the bed and was relieved to see Vittorio was still fast asleep. Grabbing her black silk dressing gown she put it on as she ran down the stairs in her bare feet. What on earth could have happened to bring Tom here?
He was standing inside the door, cap in hand, looking around the palatial room. When he saw Lily, he walked quickly over to her. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but Amy is in hospital.’
Eyes wide with shock Lily asked, ‘What’s wrong with her?’
He twisted his cap nervously in his hands. ‘I think that Dutchy got to her. I found her in a terrible state last night. She’s in the South Hants Hospital.’
‘Thanks, Tom. I’ll get dressed and go to her.’ She pulled the front of the gown across her breasts and ran her fingers through her tousled hair, suddenly conscious of him seeing her this way.
The actions were not lost on him. ‘I see I got you out of bed.’ There was anger in his eyes as he went on: ‘I didn’t know you lived here until a little while ago. At first I wouldn’t believe it.’ He looked her up and down. ‘I know now it’s true.’
Hearing the bitterness in his tone, Lily was filled with guilt. ‘You’d best go, Tom. Thanks for letting me know.’
He stared at her with such a hurt expression it nearly destroyed her. ‘How could you let him touch you!’ He turned on his heel and left the building.
For a moment, she couldn’t move. She was shaken by the news about Dutchy and by seeing Tom inside the club. At last he knew about Vittorio. But first of all, she must think of Amy.
As she returned to the bedroom, Vittorio stirred. ‘What’s going on?’
Knowing he would certainly hear of her early visitor, she said, ‘A friend of mine is in hospital, badly injured. A man came to tell me.’ Opening her wardrobe she said in a choked voice, ‘I must go and see her.’
‘Get George to call you a taxi. Who is this friend?’
‘She’s called Amy.’ She glanced over to Vittorio. ‘She was a good pal to me. She needs my help now.’
He nodded. ‘Do whatever you have to, Lily.’
She was so relieved at his understanding, she leaned over the bed and kissed him. ‘Thank you.’
‘Is there anything I can do?’ he asked.
Shaking her head she said, ‘No. I don’t know too much about it at the moment, except that she’s badly hurt. I’ll let you know more when I’ve been to the hospital.’
When she walked into the ward, Lily was shocked at Amy’s appearance. Her face was swollen and bruised, as was her neck, but the thing that shattered Lily most of all was the vacant expression in Amy’s eyes.
The Matron, on learning that Lily was a close friend and from now on would be taking care of the patient, told her, ‘She has been brutally raped. She’s in shock still. Stay with her, hold her hand. Talk to her. Perhaps you’ll get a response. So far she’s not spoken to anyone.’
To Lily it was like seeing Rachel all over again. But Rachel had recovered. Looking into Amy’s eyes, she was afraid that her friend would never get over this.
Drawing the curtains around the side of the bed she said, ‘Hello, my love, it’s Lily. Tom told me you were here.’ She took one of her friend’s cold hands in hers and stroked it gently. ‘Now, don’t you worry. I’m going to take good care of you.’ Sitting on the bed, she put her arm around Amy’s shoulders and held her, crooning softly.
Lily kept talking to her. Recounting their days together in The Ditches. Relating little stories about Rachel, and the times they had together. She smoothed her forehead, murmuring words of encouragement. She bathed her face
, gave her a drink of water. ‘Sorry, darling, there’s no gin in it,’ she said with a smile.
Amy looked up at her, a spark of recognition at last. In a faltering voice she said, ‘Lily. Oh Lily. I’m so pleased to see you.’ The tears welled in Amy’s eyes and she began to cry.
Lily held her tightly until the wracking sobs subsided. Then, wiping Amy’s face, she said, ‘You’ve nothing to worry about now, my love. I’m here, and I’m going to take care of you.’
Amy relaxed in her arms and slept.
The Matron stopped by the bed and with a look of relief said, ‘She looks peaceful at last.’
‘What happens to her now?’ asked Lily.
With a frown the Matron answered, ‘She needs to stay under observation for a while yet. There’s nothing broken, thank goodness. Except perhaps her spirit. The police have been round, but I told them she was too ill to be questioned.’
‘When can she be moved?’ asked Lily anxiously.
‘It’s too early to say yet, my dear. But the fact that she recognised you and spoke – well, that’s a good sign. She’ll need care and understanding when she leaves.’
Looking at the sleeping face of her dearest friend Lily said, ‘She’ll get that, I can promise you.’
Lily stayed with Amy all day. She eventually wakened and took a little sustenance with Lily’s encouragement. ‘Now come on, Amy love. You won’t get better if you don’t take something.’ She spooned into Amy’s mouth a little broth, then waited outside while the doctor attended to the patient.
‘What are you doing here?’ asked Amy when Lily returned to her bedside.
‘Where else would I be?’ asked Lily.
‘But shouldn’t you be at the club?’
Shaking her head Lily said, ‘No. Vittorio knows where I am. And I’ll be back tomorrow and every day until you’re better.’
With a wan smile Amy said, ‘God knows when that’ll be.’
‘Now listen to me, my girl. These things can’t be rushed, but in time you’ll be back to your old self.’
Amy shook her head. ‘I’ll never be my old self, Lily. I’ll never go back on the street after what Dutchy did to me. I’d be too scared.’ Her face paled and her bottom lip trembled. ‘I’ve never been so terrified in all my life.’ She began to cry softly.
Whilst she held her friend in her arms, Lily raged inside. So Tom was right – it was that Dutch bastard. Well, she’d fix him. She’d see to it that he could never do this to anyone else again.
The nurse finally gave Amy a sedative and settled her down for the night with Lily’s promise to return in the morning.
When she paid the taxi-driver outside the club, Lily raced up the stairs to Vittorio’s office and, opening the door, barged in.
He looked up in surprise as she strode angrily over to him. ‘I’m going to ask you a favour and please don’t say no!’
His eyes narrowed at the expression on her face. ‘I can’t possibly say yes or no until you tell me what you want. Sit down, Lily. You look as if you’re going to explode at any minute.’
That was exactly how she felt! Taking a cigarette from his case on the desk, she lit it, drew deeply on it and said, ‘Today I saw my friend who had been brutally raped by a foreign seaman off the Rotterdam. I want him seen to.’
The Maltese raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘What precisely do you mean, my dear?’
Lily’s face was white with anger. ‘I want him dealt with in such a way that he’ll never return to Southampton – or England, for that matter.’
His eyes glittered as he asked, ‘Are you saying you want him removed permanently?’
She met his gaze without flinching. ‘He can be wiped off the bloody face of the earth for all I care!’
‘Are you asking me to have a man killed?’
‘Yes!’
‘Do you realise what you’re asking of me?’
‘Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, would it?’
Vittorio gazed at her coolly. ‘Just supposing your request was granted and you were told this man no longer breathed,’ he said. ‘Could you live with yourself afterwards?’ He looked at her, trying hard to make her realise the consequence of her demands. ‘Conscience is a very strange thing. It can give you sleepless nights and years of remorse.’
‘As far as this bastard goes, I have no conscience. He doesn’t deserve one.’
A slow smile touched the corners of his mouth as he saw the anger burning in her eyes. ‘My, Lily. I’ve never seen you in this mood. Who exactly is this monster that has moved you to make such a request?’
‘He’s a big hulk of a man, known as Dutchy. Feared by all the prostitutes. He carries a knife and he’s the scum of the earth. If I was a man, I’d do it myself …’ She gulped, fighting back tears. ‘He once held a knife at my throat. The tip of it cut my skin. I thought I was going to die.’
Vittorio’s expression hardened. ‘When was this? You never told me about it.’
‘Before I came here. Amy and me were going home from the pub when he accosted us. Some bloke came along and saved us, otherwise I might be dead because of him.’
‘I see.’ The smile had disappeared. ‘Which ship did you say?’
‘The Rotterdam. It’s a cargo-boat – probably sailed by now. But he’ll be back.’
‘You look tired, my darling. How was your friend when you left her?’
‘Still shocked.’ The anger in Lily had seeped away and she looked harrowed. ‘I need to take care of her, Vittorio. You do understand, don’t you?’ she pleaded.
He nodded. ‘Of course. She must be very special to deserve such loyalty.’
‘And the other matter?’ Lily asked.
‘He will be dealt with.’
‘Thank you. I’m going to bed now. I feel shattered. Shall I wait for you?’
He shook his head. ‘No, Lily. Get some sleep. I’ll not disturb you tonight. You don’t look as if you have an ounce of energy left in you. That wouldn’t do for me.’
She walked around the desk and kissed him on his forehead. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
The following day, Lily arrived at the hospital, arms filled with flowers, and carrying a basket of fruit and a new peach-coloured nightdress with matching negligée.
Amy managed a smile when she saw her friend. When Lily unpacked the night attire, she even showed a trace of her old spirit. ‘Blimey! If I was fit, dressed in that lot, I could charge a fortune.’
‘You’re never going back to whoring, Amy,’ Lily declared. ‘I’ve had a brilliant idea. When you’re well enough, you can live in Fred’s house. Look after it for me, like a housekeeper. I’m earning good money – I’ll pay you to do it.’
There was a lump in Amy’s throat and she could hardly speak. ‘You can’t afford to do that.’
‘Rubbish! I’ve decided. It’s no good having an empty house.’ Catching hold of Amy’s hand she said, ‘You would do the same for me.’
As she spoke she saw in the distance a figure coming towards her. Her voice faltered as she said, ‘You have another visitor, Amy.’
Tom McCann had also brought flowers. He leaned over the bed and kissed Amy on the forehead. ‘How are you, love?’
‘Not so bad. It was you that brought me here, wasn’t it?’ she said weakly.
Tom nodded. ‘I called round to see if you were all right, but sadly I was too late to save you.’ He looked across the bed at Lily. ‘How are you?’
Putting on a bright smile, she answered, ‘Fine, Tom. Thanks for letting me know about Amy. I’m so grateful.’
They both sat with her until lunch-time, when the Matron suggested that Amy needed to rest. Lily looked anxiously at her friend.
‘Go home, Lily. Come back tomorrow,’ Amy said sleepily. ‘I’ll be fine. To be honest, I am a bit tired. Thanks for all the goodies.’
Tom and Lily walked out of the hospital together in an uneasy silence. Outside, she turned to walk away, but he caught hold of her hand. ‘We need to talk, Li
ly.’
She nodded. ‘Yes, I suppose we do.’
They went into a small cafe where Tom ordered a pot of tea for two. After the waitress served them, he said, ‘I need to know the truth. Why didn’t you want to marry me? The real reason, please. I can’t rest until I know.’
Lily stared into the face of the man who meant everything to her. After all, now she had nothing to lose. He knew about Vittorio. He might as well know the full story.
So she told him about her father, his abuse of her. ‘I couldn’t marry you, Tom, without you discovering all this. I was only seventeen – I would have needed a birth certificate. We also needed my parents’ permission, as I was under-age. It was a hopeless situation.’ The anguish she felt was etched on her face. She omitted the part that Manny had played. Compared to the rest of her story, it was insignificant.
‘Why didn’t you tell me? I don’t understand.’
She caught hold of his hand. ‘Would you have been able to make love to me, knowing what my father had done?’
‘Lily, Lily,’ he chided. ‘Don’t you know that nothing in this world would have made any difference? Why couldn’t you have trusted me?’
She gazed into his hazel eyes, studied the firm jaw, the full lips. There was not a feature she didn’t know and love. ‘I was afraid you’d be disgusted.’
His jaw tightened. ‘The only thing that disgusts me is that you are Vittorio Teglia’s mistress! I find that hard to stomach. Why? How could you?’
To her surprise, Lily found that she was defending Vittorio. ‘He’s given me a new start. I sing in his club, he pays me a good wage.’
‘And you pleasure his bed.’ Tom’s lips narrowed in anger.
‘As your wife does yours,’ Lily retorted.
Tom gave a derisive snort. ‘Not if she can help it. She’s a cold fish who thinks only of being one-up on the neighbours. To her, sex is dirty. She hates sharing my bed.’
At once Lily could see the unhappiness mirrored in his eyes.
‘Oh Tom, I’m so sorry. I thought you had a good marriage. When you told me at Fred’s funeral you were to be a father, it was as if a knife had plunged into my heart. But at least I thought you were happy, so it didn’t seem so bad. Why didn’t you tell me?’
