Lost Girls

by K Leitch

  Daddy took his belt to me; he was all for kicking me out onto the streets. It was terrible, Mammy was screaming that I’d brought shame on them all and Daddy was calling me a dirty little whore. I made up my mind to leave…I didn’t know what I would do but I didn’t want to stay where I was.

  The next evening though, before I had time to leave, Father Matthew came round. He talked with Mammy for a long time, I was locked in my room while he was talking and then Mammy came and brought me downstairs.

  He told me that I had sinned and that I needed to repent and throw myself on God’s mercy. He said that Mammy had decided that it would be best all round if I went away and had the baby somewhere else. He knew of a place where I would be looked after until the child was born and then I could come home. It was a good place he said run by nuns, where I could repent of my sin away from the outside world and learn the values of chastity and humility.

  It is a punishment…every day we are punished for our wantonness. We are forced to pray on our knees for hours a day asking for forgiveness, we only eat once a day and the dormitories that we sleep in are bitterly cold. On the day that I arrived at this place my head was shaved and my breasts bound tight. Red hair and large breast are the sign of a wanton it seems.

  In truth I don’t care what they do to me, I am only here until I give birth and then I will take my baby and leave…so I will put up with the freezing showers and the groping hands, I am just biding my time until I can be free again.

  CHAPTER 52 - TRACY

  ‘I have got absolutely no sympathy for either of you,’ Tracy said as she reached up and took down the medical box from the top shelf of the kitchen cupboard. ‘Every single week it’s the same, you’ve either pulled a muscle or broken a toe, how the hell did you both manage to get a black eye for crying out loud?’

  She took out some cotton wool and soaked a couple of pieces in cold water.

  Simon hissed with pain as she pressed the cotton wool pad against the side of his eye. ‘It wasn’t our fault,’ he began, making Tracy roll her eyes in exasperation. ‘This bloke was huge, I mean I’m a big man but he must have been about…what do you reckon James 6’7… 6’8?’ James groaned and nodded. ‘I mean the man was a monster and we were given the task of taking him out…’

  ‘Er…well in fairness Greg was meant to be doing it as well but…’ James put in.

  ‘Oh I might have known he’d be mixed up in this somehow, of all the stupid idiots…’ Tracy interrupted, ‘I don’t care if it hurts James hold that to your eye, it will help reduce the swelling. Imogen is going to have your guts for garters if you’ve still got a black eye for the performance in a couple of weeks.’

  ‘That is the least of my worries,’ grumbled James, ‘Carla was mad enough last time when I did my hamstring and couldn’t walk for a week or so.’

  ‘Yes well it serves you right,’ Tracy said dabbing some Arnica lotion on Simon’s cheek, ‘I just don’t understand why it always ends up with you all fighting each other, it’s meant to be a game of football for crying out loud. I don’t know why you don’t just join a boxing club if all you want is a punch up.’

  Simon and James shared a look over Tracy’s head, women just didn’t understand anything.

  There was a knock at the door, ‘Oh that’ll probably be Carla,’ Tracy said, ‘ha ha the look on your face James, anyone would think Carla wasn’t the lovely long suffering woman that we all know her to be.’ She went through to the front door laughing.

  It wasn’t Carla at the door but Rebecca Sheenan. Tracy just stared at her in shock for a couple of seconds. ‘Oh…sorry I was expecting someone else,’ she said flustered. ‘Um…what can I do for you Rebecca?’

  Rebecca’s face was completely deadpan. ‘I’ve come for my book,’ she said.

  Tracy shook her head mystified; ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I don’t understand…you’ve come for what book?’

  Rebecca seemed to haul herself up to her full height and her eyes glinted with suppressed anger.

  ‘Don’t pretend Tracy,’ she hissed through clenched teeth. ‘You took my book, Juno told me you’d got it…I want it back, it’s private.’

  Suddenly it all fell into place for Tracy, ‘Oh God that book…yes sorry, I didn’t understand what you meant for a moment. Do you want to come in and I’ll go and get it?’

  Thrown off balance by Tracy’s friendliness Rebecca stuttered for a couple of minutes and then followed her into the house as far as the hallway.

  ‘Come on through Rebecca,’ Tracy said walking towards the kitchen, ‘can I get you a drink or something?’

  ‘No thank you,’ Rebecca said awkwardly, I’ll just get the book if that’s ok.’

  Tracy smiled at her and started searching through a pile of books and papers that littered the top of the old dresser in the kitchen. She looked up and smiled again at Rebecca who was hovering just inside the door.

  ‘Don’t let these two worry you,’ she said indicating the two muddied and bloodied men that were both looking at Rebecca inquisitively. ‘The big one with the black eye and bleeding nose is my husband Simon, and the one with the black eye and the scared expression is James, husband of my best friend who is going to give him a bollocking when she gets here,’ she finished with satisfaction.

  Rebecca nodded awkwardly at the two men and then stared at the floor.

  ‘Oh here it is,’ Tracy said a moment later holding up the little diary. ‘I must say Rebecca I thought this was fascinating, I would have loved to have read it all the way through, I don’t suppose I could hang on to it for a bit longer could I?’

  Rebecca began to shake her head.

  ‘This girl Una Flannery was she a relation of yours?’ Tracy asked flicking through the book.

  ‘No,’ said Rebecca sharply almost snatching the book out of Tracy’s hands. ‘She isn’t a relation of mine, but I know her son…the book belongs to him really so…’

  ‘Oh I see,’ said Tracy, not seeing at all. ‘Well it’s all really interesting reading about her life working in that hotel, although I have to say some of the people she came across seemed rather horrible…and that poor girl, what was her name Missy?’ Rebecca didn’t answer, but was looking at her with a horrified expression on her face. Tracy carried on regardless. ‘How could they have been so awful to her just because she was black, it’s not like it was in the eighteenth century either was it, I mean it was only about forty or fifty years ago…’

  ‘Am I to understand that you’ve read my book,’ Rebecca cut in furiously.

  ‘Um…well only a little of it, I’m sorry I didn’t think it would be a problem…’ Tracy began.

  Rebecca turned and headed for the door, when she reached it she turned to Tracy once more eyes blazing. ‘It was a private diary…how dare you read it. But then I should expect no less from the likes of you shouldn’t I,’ she hissed as she turned and opened the door.

  ‘What do you mean by that,’ said Tracy furiously following her out.

  ‘Well after the bigoted things I overheard in the office the other day, it is obvious that your morals are as loose as your jumpers are tight,’ Rebecca shouted back at her as she marched out of the drive and into the lane, only just missing being knocked over by a car that was turning into the drive. It was Carla coming to pick up James.

  ‘Who was that?’ she asked as she got out of the car, ‘she seemed in a bit of a hurry.’

  ‘That was bloody, pigging Rebecca Sheenan,’ said Tracy still fuming.

  ‘Wow she’s rattled your cage darling hasn’t she?’ Carla said laughing, ‘What the hell have I missed?’

  The two girls went back inside and Tracy recounted all that had just happened, by the time she was finished they were all laughing.

  ‘The worst of it all is that she’s bloody right,’ Tracy was saying. ‘I have absolutely no defence against all the things I said about her brother or the fact that I read her bloody diary…I am in the wrong, no question, but bloody hell she just winds me up, I don�
��t know what it is about her….’

  Simon smirked (or at least he tried to, but nobody noticed because of his bruised nose and black eye). ‘That was a good parting line though, you have to admit. “your morals are as loose as your jumpers are tight” she’s got you down to a ‘T’ Trace,’ he chuckled.

  ‘Well it’s nice to know I can count on your support Simon,’ Tracy said filling up kettle, Simon came up behind her and put his arms around her.

  ‘Oh you know you can my lovely, but not when you’re wrong.’ He kissed her neck and then jumped away to avoid being thwacked with a tea towel.

  ‘What was all the fuss about anyway?’ Carla asked later when they were all sitting down with a cup of tea.

  ‘Oh it was so interesting Carla,’ Tracy gushed, ‘it’s the diary of a young girl, she was about fifteen I think and she writes about her time working in a hotel in London, you know the friends that she makes there and what happens to this young black girl…it was terrible how black people were treated in those days isn’t it, and this isn’t hundreds of years ago, this is in the sixties…’

  ‘Still the same in some parts of the world,’ James said shaking his head, ‘racial hatred, whether it’s about colour or religion or race it’s still the main cause of most of the world's troubles….’

  ‘But it makes no sense,’ Tracy said heatedly, ‘surely we’ve evolved enough so that we can judge people by their worth not their colour or religion…’

  James held his hands up, ‘You’re preaching to the converted sweetheart, but unfortunately not everyone feels as you do, and it’s not all in other countries either, many people still live with racial abuse everyday right here in the UK.’

  Carla who hadn’t said anything while this discussion was going on suddenly said, ‘Whose was the diary Tracy? You said it didn’t actually belong to this Rebecca woman.’

  ‘Well it was written by a young Irish girl…um funny name, Una something or other, Flatly or Finnegan…began with an ‘F’ anyway….’

  ‘Was it Flannery…Una Flannery?’

  ‘Yes that was it…Flannery. Why have you heard of her?’

  ‘Well yes…sort of, oh my God it is so funny how things turn out,’ said Carla shaking her head. ‘Do you happen to know this Rebecca Sheenan’s address Tracy?’

  ‘No,’ Tracy said looking at her in bewilderment, ‘but it will be in the files at school, she runs the mobile library I’ll get it for you on Monday if you like.’

  Carla gave her a smacking kiss, ‘Thank you sweetheart that would be great.’

  CHAPTER 53

  The day was suitably grey and cheerless as a small group of people gathered round the freshly dug grave in the small private cemetery.

  Imogen was supported by her two sons, both of whom looked pale and grim. Albie’s two granddaughters, Pammy and Paula, wept openly and were comforted by their tall glamorous mother Millicent, whose own face was marred by a sardonic look every time it rested on Imogen and her sons.

  The ceremony was a short one and soon Albie Wiseman was laid to rest and the little gathering dispersed to take tea in the garden room of the big house.

  Later Mr Stockton, Albie’s solicitor, revealed the contents of Albie’s will. There were no surprises, naturally Imogen as his widow was the main beneficiary, with his two sons receiving the remaining bulk of his fortune. There were bequests for his granddaughters and also a hefty amount left to the golf club.

  The will read, the various members of the party went their separate ways. Luke disappeared almost as soon as the door was closed on his father’s solicitor. Imogen shook her head in annoyance, she had a good idea where he was headed and with whom, that had to be stopped. She resolved to speak to David about it in the morning.

  David and Millicent were taking the girls up to London for the night. They would go to a show and stay over at the London flat, it would be good for the girls to do something fun after the depressing day that they had all endured. Which meant that Imogen was spending the evening by herself, a fact that she was not at all unhappy about.

  The last couple of weeks had been awful. Ever since Albie had been found she hadn’t had a moment to herself, what with the police and then the funeral directors, not to mention a positive stream of people coming to pay their respects. It hadn’t helped that the boys had been at each other’s throats almost constantly. Imogen laid the blame for that firmly on Luke, his behaviour just lately had been most unacceptable. Carrying on with that common floozy right under her nose, what was the boy playing at. The girl was obviously after his money and, despite the fact that she had surprised them all with her acting abilities, that did not take away the fact that she had a bastard child and by all accounts was living with another man. David hadn’t been himself either, oh of course he must have felt the death of his father keenly, but he had been very hard to get hold of the last couple of days and even when he was at home he was unusually quiet and uncommunicative, Imogen was worried about him, it wasn’t like him to take his eye off the ball.

  Imogen heaved a sigh and poured herself a small glass of whisky. Mrs Flood had left out some supper for her in the kitchen and there was a good documentary about the life of Vivian Leigh on BBC4 later, so she determined to put all her worries aside for this one evening and try and relax.

  A few hours later and Imogen woke with a start. The room was in darkness and she was feeling unpleasantly chilled and shivery. She must have dozed off during the documentary, which had now finished. Some intense looking bespectacled woman was talking about her book, which apparently told of the horrors of female circumcision. Shaking her head at the TV, Imogen switched channels until she found the news.

  She got up and switched on a couple of side lights which gave a warm glow to the room, then she collected her plate which she had left beside her chair and took it through to the kitchen. When Imogen was on her own she spent her evenings in the small living room next to the kitchen. The house was far too big for one person alone and she had tried many times to persuade Albie to sell up and buy something smaller for their old age. He had firmly resisted all her arguments; Albie had loved this house and the status it gave him. ‘Well,’ Imogen thought to herself, ‘Albie isn’t here anymore, so maybe it’s time for me to start looking round for a small, comfortable, country cottage.’ Smiling at that thought, she filled the kettle and started getting out the makings of a cup of tea. Suddenly a noise from outside stopped her in her tracks…she stood completely still and listened…nothing.

  Feeling slightly less at ease Imogen carried on making the tea, firmly telling herself that it was almost certainly a fox, or a badger perhaps. David had seen one just the other evening snuffling about on the patio, yes that was what it was, a badger. Another crash made her jump… it seemed to be coming from just outside the kitchen window. Imogen peered out into the darkness but even though the patio lights were on she could see nothing moving about out there. She forced herself to relax once more and taking her tea turned out the kitchen lights and headed back to her sitting room. Another loud crash, this time followed by some shuffling noises, made her jump so much that her tea splashed down the front of her cardigan.

  With shaking hands she wiped herself down with a tea towel, and then reached for her phone.

  She tried Luke’s number first…voicemail, then frustrated, David’s, with exactly the same outcome. She left a message.

  ‘David darling, it’s Mummy…um can you phone me back it’s quite urgent darling,’ she whispered in a frightened little voice.

  She disconnected the call, with any luck David would call soon; it would make her feel better just to hear his voice. She sat down in front of the TV again and tried to concentrate on the news, telling herself that she was being a foolish old woman….

  THUMP…thud… a noise directly above her had her jumping out of her seat. With trembling knees she went out into the hall to investigate, turning on lights as she did so. The hall and the other downstairs rooms were empty. Imogen began slowly wa
lking up the great curving staircase as quietly as she could.

  The upstairs landing light didn’t work, its length stretched before her in brooding darkness….

  CRACK…BANG! Imogen let out a little scream of fear; it seemed to be coming from her room, which was at the end of the landing. Maybe a bird had flown in through an open window, that had happened last year, the poor thing had flown wildly around the room banging into everything in its panic until Flood had been able to capture it and put it outside again. Imogen swore under her breath, she didn’t know if she was up to capturing a terrified bird.

  THUD…THUD…BANG! Hardly daring to breathe, Imogen trod silently along the thickly carpeted landing towards the noises, carefully trying to avoid the creaky floorboards. Opening doors, checking for frightened birds in every room and switching on lights as she went. All the various bedrooms and bathrooms seemed empty; windows seemed tightly locked and the further she progressed along the landing the more she was able to persuade herself that it was indeed some poor unfortunate creature that had found itself in her bedroom.

  Still her palms were sweaty and her breath shaky as she slowly turned the handle and carefully opened her bedroom door….

  The room was pitch black, she tried the main light switch near the door, but the lights appeared to be out here as well…the noises had stopped and the room seemed unnaturally quiet. Imogen felt her way over to her bedside lamp and fumbled around for the switch…light filled the area around the huge bed that dominated the room, Imogen let out a scream of terror and jumped back in horror her hand over her mouth as she stared down at the centre of the bed. Her blood turned to ice in her veins and she started to back away towards the door, only to hear a distinctive click as the door was locked behind her.

  CHAPTER 54 - CARLA

  ‘No it’s all locked up tight, they must be away somewhere. I’m coming back to the station, I might try again later though.’ Carla was speaking to Frank, her mobile perched on her shoulder as she hunted for her keys in her bag. Finding them she made her way back to her car which was parked outside 14 Russet Drive, in the tiny village of Whytefield, the home of Rebecca and John Sheenan according to Tracy, who had been as good as her word and texted the address to Carla that morning.