Daughters of Courage

by Margaret Dickinson

  Swiftly, they left the premises and Emily locked the door. Dora started to walk slowly home but Nell and Emily were running up the street, then twisting and turning through the back alleys, with Emily clinging on to the back of Nell’s skirt.

  ‘I hope you know where we’re going, Nell,’ she panted, ‘because I’m completely lost.’

  ‘I know this city like the back of me hand. Don’t worry, just hang on to me.’

  After what seemed an age, Nell slowed her pace and then paused outside the passageway between two terraced houses.

  ‘This is it. Come on.’ She led the way into the darkness of the passage, lifted the latch on the back gate and they stepped into a surprisingly tidy backyard. Emily was not sure what she had expected the yard of the house where a notorious gang leader lived to look like, but it was not this. In the evening light, she made out the shapes. In one corner stood the usual outhouses – the privy and washhouse. To one side of the yard, she saw a raised bed, planted with herbs and flowers and wondered whether a woman lived here too, who used herbs in her cooking and decorated the house with flowers? Despite what Nell had always believed – that Steve wanted to marry her – had he grown tired of waiting and found himself a wife?

  Nell was knocking loudly on the back door, the sound echoing across the row of backyards. After a moment, the door was flung open and a tall, broad-shouldered young man stood there.

  ‘Nell!’ His surprise was obvious. ‘Come in.’ Then he spotted Emily standing in the shadows behind her. ‘Both of you.’

  As they moved into the light of the kitchen, Emily was surprised to see that Steve Henderson was fair-haired with a firm chin and the bluest eyes she had ever seen. He was very good-looking and, like his backyard, nothing like the gangster type Emily had expected to see.

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ she said. ‘It’s you!’

  Now, for the first time, for his attention had been wholly on Nell, he looked at Emily. ‘Ah yes, my damsel in distress. Fancy seeing you again.’

  He said no more for the moment as his attention went back to Nell’s obvious distress. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Lucy!’ Nell gasped, her hand to her chest as if she had a violent pain there. ‘She’s gone.’

  ‘Gone? What d’you mean, “gone”?’

  Nell swayed and her face turned deathly white. Steve took hold of her and lowered her into a chair, bending over her solicitously. Nell closed her eyes and leaned back, fear and exhaustion taking its toll. Swiftly, Emily took up the explanation. ‘Lucy didn’t go home from school as she always does. Nell’s mam came to our workshop just as we were leaving.’

  ‘Good Lord! The old girl must have been worried, if she walked all that way. She hardly ever goes out, does she?’

  It seemed Steve knew all about his ‘family’. Even though they didn’t live together – would never do so until Steve changed his disreputable ways – Emily knew that Nell allowed him to see Lucy as often as he wished.

  ‘He’s her dad,’ Nell had explained simply. ‘And whilst I don’t want her knowing what he does – not yet anyway, though I expect as she gets older she’ll find out – I wouldn’t keep her from seeing him. She loves him to bits and he’s so good with her. If only . . .’

  And now they were here to ask for his help in finding his daughter.

  Seeing that Nell’s colour was coming back, Steve straightened up and went towards the hob. Deftly, he made tea for them all. Watching him, Emily could sense that he was efficient in the kitchen. Perhaps he did live alone.

  As they sat around the table, he said, ‘Could she have gone to a friend’s house? Have you checked with the school and all her friends?’

  Shakily, Nell said, ‘Mam went to the school first, but they said she’d left at the usual time with all the other children, and no, we haven’t been round her friends. I – I came straight to you. I couldn’t think what else to do.’

  Go to the police, Emily wanted to shout, but she kept silent. She knew it was not what Nell – and certainly not what Steve – would want. But the police force would have the resources. They could have policemen searching the streets within minutes, couldn’t they?

  Steve took hold of Nell’s hand. ‘You did t’right thing.’ He spoke with the Sheffield dialect; he was clean-shaven, his hair neatly trimmed and he was dressed in well-cut clothes. It was another surprise and Emily realized that she had been unfair in having a picture of an ugly, scruffy thug in her mind. The sound of his voice dragged Emily back to listen to what he was saying. ‘I’ll get t’lads out looking and get in touch with t’other leaders too.’

  Nell gasped and stared at him. ‘Of the other gangs in the city, you mean?’

  Steve nodded.

  ‘But – but – they’re your sworn enemies, aren’t they?’

  Steve laughed. ‘Most of the time, yes, if we tread on each other’s toes or try to take over someone else’s patch, but when it’s something like this, especially when the safety of a child is involved, then we’re just one big happy family.’ There was irony in his tone and yet truth in what he said. Emily had heard that even the old lags in prison hated any crime that involved harming a child and those inmates convicted of such heinous acts were given a tough time inside. It seemed that there really was some kind of ‘honour amongst thieves’. And it looked as if Steve was about to prove that there was the same code on the outside too.

  ‘Emily had an idea,’ Nell said. ‘I hope she’s not right, but . . .’

  Steve glanced towards Emily as she said, ‘You know that Mick Dugdale is back, don’t you?’

  Steve nodded and though his blue eyes were fastened intently on her face and he let her continue, she could already read in his expression that his mind was leaping forward and coming to the same thought.

  ‘Do you think he could have taken her?’

  Steve’s face was thunderous. ‘Quite possibly. And if he has . . .’ He left the words hanging, but the dire threat was there.

  Nell leaned forward and clasped Steve’s hands tightly in her own. ‘Don’t start a street war, Steve. Please. Just get Lucy back safe and sound.’

  ‘I will. I promise you I will, Nell.’ Now they were gazing at each other, drinking in the sight of each other, united in the greatest fear that any parent can know. ‘You go home, Nell, and stay with the old girl. Leave it to me.’

  They all stood up and, briefly, Steve held Nell in his arms, laying his cheek against her hair. ‘I’ll find her, Nell.’

  Nell buried her face against his chest. After a moment, she drew back and turned to leave. Pausing a moment near the open door, Steve held out his hand to Emily. ‘I’m pleased to meet you properly this time, Emily, though I’m sorry it’s in such circumstances. You’ve been good to my Nell and I never forget a kindness.’ His face darkened for a moment. ‘In the same way, I never forget someone who crosses me.’

  Emily felt her hand enclosed gently in his warm grasp. She looked up into his face. ‘What can we do to help? Is there anything Trip can do?’

  Steve nodded. ‘Yes, he can get the cutlers’ grapevine into action. Get the word out amongst his own employees and news will soon spread to other factories in the city.’

  ‘I will. I’ll tell him the moment I get home.’

  Steve was still holding her hand and now his own pressed it more tightly. ‘Just one thing, Emily. No police.’

  She stared at him for a long moment before saying, ‘I can’t promise on Trip’s behalf, Steve, but I’ll do my best to dissuade him. I give you my word on that.’

  Steve nodded. ‘So be it.’

  ‘The main thing is that we find Lucy – however it’s done.’

  She could see the struggle in his face, but then he nodded and murmured, ‘You’re right, of course.’

  For the safe return of his missing daughter, Steve was even prepared to take the risk of giving up his own freedom.

  Seven

  Outside Steve’s home, the two young women parted to go their separate ways h
ome. Nell lived on Walkley Street, which ran at right angles to Cromwell Street, where Steve lived. Emily and Trip now lived on Carr Road, a long street just around the corner from Trippets’ factory and, to Emily’s surprise, it was only a few streets away from where they were standing. In the five years she had lived in Sheffield, Emily had come to know the city’s streets well, though she kept to the main thoroughfares, not tempted to take short cuts through the dark and dangerous back alleys. Those, through which Nell had led her earlier, she did not know, and she’d been unaware until this moment of exactly where they were. Now she knew her way home. As she stepped into their home by the back door, the smell of liver and onions being fried met her. Although her belly rumbled with hunger, she didn’t feel like eating.

  ‘I thought you’d soon be home, so I started tea.’ Trip was not the kind of man who expected his wife to do everything about the home and work long hours too.

  She closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment, breathless from having hurried home. ‘Trip – we’ve got trouble.’

  He glanced up from cooking the liver. ‘At the workshop? What’s happened? Someone got collared?’ It was the word used in the trade when someone got caught in a machine and was injured.

  Emily shook her head. ‘No. It’s Lucy. She’s missing.’

  Trip took the pan off the heat and set it aside, all thoughts of eating forgotten.

  He crossed the room, took her hands and led her to a chair near the warmth from the range. ‘Tell me.’

  Swiftly, she explained, ending, ‘We went to see Steve Henderson. Would you believe it, Trip, it was Steve who stopped that night and helped you pull me out of the ditch.’

  ‘No wonder he didn’t hang around the hospital. Go on.’

  ‘Nell and Steve are both adamant that we shouldn’t go to the police.’

  Trip was tight-lipped. ‘I can understand why, but I think they’re wrong.’

  ‘They’ve asked if you could get all your workers out looking and they think word will spread to all the other workers in the cutlery industry and possibly beyond. We’d have a veritable army out there looking for her. And if Mick Dugdale has got her . . .’ Her voice tailed away and she shuddered.

  Trip leapt up, galvanized into action. ‘I’ve thought of an idea that might alert the police without anyone actually going to them.’

  ‘Trip, what are you going to do?’

  ‘Best you don’t know. Just trust me.’

  Briefly he hugged her and then he pulled on a thick, warm coat. ‘Get yourself something to eat and then you go round to Nell’s. It’s getting late, I know, but I’m sure she and her mother could do with your company. They must be half out of their minds with worry. Will you be all right?’

  ‘Of course I will, and I’ll go and tell Ida – and Flo too. The more people who know, the better.’

  Trip gave her a brief peck on the cheek and went out into the night to help search for a lost little girl. Outside, he paused a moment, debating whether or not what he was about to do was the right thing. Then, with a dismissive shrug towards his own conscience, he set off on his motorcycle towards the home of Eddie Crossland, the foreman at the small cutlery manufacturing business in Division Street, Waterfall’s, where Nell, Lizzie and Emily had all worked a few years earlier. Eddie was a good friend of George Bayes and, even more importantly at this moment, he had a nephew in the police force.

  When the front door opened and the burly man saw who was standing on his doorstep, there was no mistaking the surprise in his tone.

  ‘Nah then, Mr Trippet, whatever brings you to my door this late?’

  Trip held out his hand. ‘Thomas, please, Mr Crossland, or even Trip.’

  Eddie grasped Trip’s hand in a warm clasp. ‘Then it’s Eddie, Trip. Come in, come in and tell me what’s to do. Millie’ll mek you a cuppa. Have you eaten?’

  ‘To tell you the truth, no.’

  ‘Then you shall have one of my sister’s apple pasties. Freshly baked this morning.’

  He ushered Trip into the kitchen where Eddie’s sister, Millie, was busily clearing away the remnants of their evening meal. She greeted Trip and then bustled about pouring him a cup of tea and placing an apple pasty on a plate. Trip had known that Eddie and his sister now lived together. Millie had never married and although Eddie had been married briefly, his wife had died a few years earlier.

  ‘You get that down you, Trip, whilst you tell me what’s to do.’

  ‘You remember Nell Geddis, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I do. Go on.’

  ‘Did you know she had a little girl, Lucy? She’ll be about six now.’

  Quietly, Millie Crossland sat down beside them to listen.

  ‘Aye, I had heard and rumour has it,’ Eddie said, ‘that Steve Henderson is the father.’

  Trip bit into the pasty and for a moment savoured the tangy taste of apple. He nodded. ‘It’s true, but Nell won’t marry him until he gives up his life of crime.’

  ‘Good for her.’

  ‘And had you also heard that Mick Dugdale is back in town?’

  Eddie’s face hardened. ‘Aye, I had,’ he said shortly, but Trip did not ask from whom he’d heard. He hoped it was his nephew, but he didn’t want the policeman’s name to come into the conversation. He wanted to drop a hint and then leave it to Eddie Crossland to do whatever he thought best. That way Trip would not be directly involved in the police being informed.

  He came to the real reason for his visit. ‘Lucy didn’t arrive home from school at the usual time and that’s not like her. We’re afraid that Mick might have taken her. No doubt he still holds a grudge against Steve and possibly Nell too.’

  Beside him, Millie gave a little cry, covered her mouth with trembling fingers and gazed at her brother with wide, fearful eyes.

  Eddie nodded. ‘Someone who’s seen him says he has a nasty scar down the left side of his face. They reckon Steve Henderson gave him that just before he disappeared. So, yes, he’ll be bearing a grudge orreight.’

  Tears flowed down Millie’s face. ‘Oh, that poor little mite. What will he do to her?’

  The two men exchanged a grim glance.

  ‘I just wondered if you could alert your workforce, Eddie? I’m on my way to see George and to get all our employees out on the streets.’

  ‘I’ll send word. It’ll soon ripple around. A lot of our workers live close to each other and they know folk from other factories too. And we should get word out amongst the little mesters.’

  Trip rose. ‘Nathan Hawke would be the best man to do that. As soon as I’ve seen George, I’ll go and tell Mr Hawke.’ He turned towards Miss Crossland. ‘Thank you for the tea and the pasty. That’ll keep me going nicely.’

  He left quickly before Eddie might think of his nephew and mention his name, but Trip hoped he’d planted the seed in the man’s mind. He would have been gratified if he could have heard the conversation between Eddie and his sister only moments after the door had closed behind him.

  ‘I’d best go and see our Joe.’

  ‘Do you think you should?’ Millie asked worriedly. ‘Steve Henderson wouldn’t want the police involved, Eddie. I don’t want him coming after you.’

  Despite the seriousness of the moment, Eddie chuckled. ‘That’s why Trip came here. Don’t you see? He knows I can get a discreet word through to the police without it being official. He’s a bright young feller, that. What he doesn’t realize – none of them do – is that the police are about far more than just catching criminals. They’ll put aside their differences with Steve Henderson to help find his daughter. Her safety and well-being are paramount. Now, lass, let me get off and see if our Joe’s at home.’

  Half an hour later, Eddie was standing in his nephew’s home facing his young wife, Betty.

  ‘He’s not here, Uncle Eddie. There’s a flap on. It seems a little girl’s gone missing and—’

  ‘Do you know her name?’

  ‘Lucy something, I think. One of hi
s snouts, as he calls his informers, slipped a note through our door about an hour ago. It said a little girl had been taken. That’s what made Joe rush off.’

  ‘My word, news does travel fast.’

  Betty nodded and pursed her lips. ‘It was very courageous of whoever it was to come to our home, but even the criminal world doesn’t like this sort of thing, Uncle Eddie.’

  ‘Did the note say who’d got her?’

  Betty shook her head.

  ‘Well, you tell our Joe as soon as you can that Lucy is Nell Geddis’s little girl and Steve Henderson is her dad.’

  Betty’s eyes widened. ‘Oh my!’

  ‘And,’ Eddie went on grimly, ‘we’re afraid that it might be Mick Dugdale who’s taken her.’

  He needed to say no more to the policeman’s wife; she understood only too well.

  Eight

  At the same moment that Eddie was leaving his nephew’s home, Trip was knocking on George Bayes’s door. After a similar conversation with Trippets’ foreman, who at once set out to alert as many of their workforce as he could, Trip headed for Nathan Hawke’s home.

  ‘Why, Trip, come in, come in,’ Nathan greeted him on opening the door. ‘It’s good to see you, but is something wrong? You’re rather late for a social call.’

  ‘No social call, I’m afraid, Mr Hawke. And yes, something is very wrong.’ Swiftly, he explained and the older man’s face darkened. ‘I had heard on the grapevine that Mick was back, but not this latest news. Oh dear, this is dreadful. What can I do to help?’

  ‘Can you get word out amongst all the little mesters?’

  ‘Of course.’ He reached for his jacket and cap from the back of the door. ‘I’ll start at once. Now, where did I put my spectacles?’

  Trip rode through the dark streets towards Walkley Street, going over in his mind if there was anything else he could do, anyone else he could ask for help. He could, of course, approach the other owners of the various factories in the city, but he believed – and rightly so – that word would spread from worker to worker and very soon most of the city would be alerted. He hoped, too, that Eddie Crossland had thought to get in touch with his nephew.