A Daughter's Secret

by Anne Bennett

  ‘No, I won’t,’ Paul said. ‘I know that I was at the back of the queue when looks were given out, and I know my limp probably puts you off—’

  ‘Your limp?’ Aggie cried. ‘What has your limp to do with anything? I have barely noticed it.’

  ‘You must have.’

  ‘All right then, let’s say that it isn’t important to me.’

  ‘So why should the fact that you were forced into prostitution be important to me?’ Paul asked.

  ‘There is no comparison.’

  Paul grasped Aggie’s hands and said, ‘Please, Miss Sullivan? All I am talking of is going to the pictures together or something. Casablanca is showing at the Odeon in Sutton Coldfield only a step away from here and it is supposed to be good.’

  Aggie had a sudden memory of the times she had been to the pictures with Lily when they had worked together at the munitions and HP Sauce, and how much she had enjoyed those outings. It was all so long ago, and in that other respectable period in her life, and she had a sudden longing to recapture those innocent pleasures. It wasn’t all that far from home, after all.

  Paul was looking at her almost fearfully and she realised that he almost expected her to refuse him. She felt sorry for him suddenly and suspected, for all his money, he was a very lonely man. Although she had her family around her now, she too often felt lonely. What harm would it do? So she smiled and said, ‘All right, Mr Simmons. I think I would enjoy that. If we go as friends and nothing more.’

  She saw Paul’s hunched shoulders sag with relief. ‘As friends, if that is how you want it,’ he said, and his smile lit up his whole face.

  Tom had a letter from Joe waiting for him that evening and he read it after he’d had his dinner. ‘Joe wants to come for the weekend. Is that all right?’ he said to Aggie.

  ‘Oh, it’s more than all right, Tom. I am dying to see him again. But who is looking after the farm?’

  ‘Jack McEvoy,’ Tom said. ‘He offered to do it because he doesn’t work weekends at the mill. Apparently, Joe won’t be able to come over for the wedding, because there is no one to take charge of the place. Gloria and Ben are coming instead, so he is taking his chance to see you now.’

  ‘I can hardly wait. He was eleven years old when I last saw him.’

  ‘Aye,’ Tom said. ‘And one hell of a lot of water has gone under the bridge since.’

  ‘D’know what time he is arriving?’ Aggie asked.

  ‘More or less,’ Tom said. ‘He’s leaving after the milking on Friday morning and that means that he will be here in the afternoon, between say four and five. I mean, you know what the trains are like these days?’

  ‘Yes, and if you complain about anything you are reminded that there is a war on,’ Aggie said. ‘As if that fact had slipped your mind.’

  ‘It’s all so much eyewash anyway,’ Tom said. ‘People say the trains were no better before.’

  Aggie laughed. ‘They probably weren’t then,’ she said. ‘Depending what I can get on ration, I will try and make something that won’t spoil if the meal has to be held back.’

  ‘I’m sure you will manage,’ Tom said. ‘You can work miracles with those rations. After we’ve eaten, though, you’ll not mind us going out for a few jars?’

  That was where Aggie should have told Tom about Paul’s visit and explain that she was going to the pictures with him on Friday night and so wouldn’t be in herself. She was embarrassed, however, and instead she heard herself saying that she had no objection at all.

  ‘You’ll not be lonely on your own?’ Tom asked.

  ‘Goodness, Tom, I am not a child to be minded,’ Aggie said. ‘Go out and enjoy yourselves.’

  Tom had no intention of enjoying himself that weekend, and neither had Joe. When they met at the station, they didn’t make straight for home but to the café on the platform where they discussed their plans for the evening.

  ‘You sure you know where this club is?’ Joe said to Tom as he put the mugs of hot sweet tea down before them.

  ‘Aye,’ Tom said, ‘not the club exactly, but I know the general direction. I went more than once for a look while Molly was working. Anyway, Paul said his contact said the club was near the canal and all the side roads from Broad Street lead down to it, though some are blocked with bomb damage. I would say that it will be fairly easy to find, especially if we go in daylight.’

  ‘That’s another point, though, isn’t it?’ Joe said. ‘There is too much daylight at the beginning of May.’

  ‘I don’t think they go to these places at half-past seven at night,’ Tom said. ‘Not if it keeps the same hours as the club Aggie was involved in. She said a lot of people wouldn’t come in till most of the population were getting ready for bed and then stay until the early hours. All we have to do is be outside that Flamingo Club when the man arrives and nab him before he reaches it.’

  ‘It’s a bloody good job you found that picture of him,’ Joe said.

  ‘It was Aggie found it,’ Tom said. ‘Splashed all over the Despatch and the Mail were photos of him opening a rescue centre on the edge of the city for bombed-out families. Aggie very nearly passed out. As she said, what is an evil man like that doing getting involved in anything good and wholesome? Anyway, I had a good look at him then and cut a picture out later when Aggie wasn’t looking. I tell you, he will be easy enough to spot. He is as bald as a coot, has big fat lips and eyes placed too close together. And now we best be making tracks before Aggie sends out a search party.’

  Aggie was ecstatic to see her younger brother and she hugged him tight while tears ran down her face. She had never imagined in her wildest dreams that she would see any of her family again, and to have two of her brothers together and for them all to sit down to a meal was almost unbelievable to her. She looked from one to the other, her face one beam of happiness, almost too excited to eat the dinner that she had taken such trouble with.

  Joe too was moved by the meeting. He looked at the sister he could barely remember and he realised that despite all that had happened to her, the old Aggie was still there. Kindness and a sort of goodness seemed to emanate from her and, like Tom, he mourned the lost years when his sister had been as good as dead to him. He vowed that night someone would pay dearly for that.

  Tom and Joe found the Flamingo Club with ease. Joe was surprised by the scale of the bombing, though of course he had been well used to the Blitz in London. As Tom had said, some of the roads were blocked with fallen masonry, but when they went down Granville Street they found the club halfway down. It was all closed up, as they had half expected, and they wandered down to look at the canal.

  ‘Nothing like the clean, bubbling streams of Buncrana,’ Joe remarked, gazing at the torpid, brown, oil-slicked water.

  ‘No,’ Tom agreed. ‘Molly said Birmingham is threaded with canals, and since the war began, they are more in use to transport stuff.’

  ‘You have told me so much about Molly that I am dying to meet her,’ Joe said.

  ‘You will when this is over,’ Tom said. ‘Speaking of which—’

  ‘No, Tom,’ Joe said. ‘We have been all through this. You avenged the rape of Aggie by killing McAllister. Now it is my turn.’

  ‘You intend to kill Finch?’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Joe said. ‘I intend to beat him to pulp for what he has put my sister through. If he dies of those injuries, then I will not lose any sleep over it. It will be a fair fight too,’ Joe went on. ‘I don’t want you to take part at all. This is between him and me.’

  ‘Remember what happened to Levingstone.’

  ‘Finch was sort of expecting Levingstone, wasn’t he?’ Joe said. ‘This time the man will be totally unprepared.’

  ‘All right then,’ Tom said. ‘Let us go and sink a pint or two. We can’t hang about here for hours. Anyway, we could be spotted and maybe arouse suspicion, and we can’t risk that.’

  ‘All right, but no more than two pints,’ Joe said. ‘When I attack Finch, I want all my wits abo
ut me.’

  And that was what they did, drawing out the second pint till the clock said almost ten o’clock. It was dusk as they positioned themselves close to the club, hidden from those arriving there by the concealing blackout.

  Finch had no notion that he was in any danger. As he sat in the taxi that night, it still rankled that Aggie had got away from him and he concluded that she must have chucked herself in the Cut, as most people thought. Certainly he had had people searching for her day and night and they had all drawn a blank. He knew too how bad her cravings for gin and opium were and that had been enough to chain her to his side and do anything he demanded. Anyway, she had nowhere to run to, but he was furious that she had slipped out of his clutches and ended it herself.

  So he was totally taken by surprise to be jumped on, just before he reached the door of the club. He was unable to struggle because his assailant’s arm encircled him like a vice as he dragged him towards the towpath, and he was unable to make a sound because his mouth was covered so firmly he felt his teeth bruising his lips.

  When Joe got Finch to the towpath, he threw him to the ground with such force Finch had all the breath knocked from his body. He was also deeply afraid.

  However, he had no time to reflect on his fear for Joe was on top of him, punching him from side to side till his head was reeling. Then he got to his feet and pulled Finch up with him. He parried Finch’s flailing arms and his punches with ease and powered a punch to his abdomen.

  ‘That is for Aggie,’ he ground out.

  ‘Aggie.’ The name reverberated in Finch’s brain. With a howl of rage he threw himself at Joe, but Joe hardly felt his desperate blows.

  Tom watched the fight in the half-light, sometimes illuminated when the moon peeped from behind the clouds. He saw the power of Joe’s fists and the desperation in Finch’s inept efforts, both to lash out at Joe and protect himself.

  Suddenly he saw Joe slam his fist extra hard into Finch and the man doubled over and groaned in pain. He was unable to protect himself from the next blow and he sank to his knees.

  However, Finch’s hands, which he had put out to try to save himself, had come in contact with a large chunk of wood on the ground. As he stumbled to his feet he had this in his hands.

  ‘Look out!’ Tom called to his brother, and Joe saw Finch circling him, the lump of wood held menacingly in front of him.

  An evil smile played around his lips as he said tauntingly, ‘Come on, big boy. Let’s see what you’re made of now.’

  Joe lunged at him and Finch hit Joe a powerful blow to the side of the head, which might have rendered many a man unconscious. Joe was momentarily stunned, and Finch, taking advantage of this, swung again to deliver a stinging blow to Joe’s shoulder. Watching, Tom gasped as he saw Joe stagger a little. Joe’s blood was really up, but he kept his head and when Finch raised the piece of wood again, he ducked beneath it, at the same time powering a punch into Finch’s unprotected stomach. Finch fell to the ground and Joe was on top of him in seconds, grappling with him and wrenching the wood from his hands.

  He looked at the man underneath him, who was whimpering with fear, and was tempted to clout him with the wood and put an end to him. Finch anticipated this and was putting his arms up, covering his face. However, Joe had said it had to be a fair fight and he threw the wood behind him, hearing the plop as it hit the water in the canal, just as Finch, seeing he was off guard for a second, caught him with a left hook that snapped his head back.

  Joe, totally enraged now, went in for the kill. Lifting the man to his feet he snarled, ‘Now fight, you slimy bastard,’ as he pummelled the man with a volley of punches to his abdomen, so fast and furious that any counterattack from Finch was futile. Finch was tiring and gasping for air, but he knew he was fighting for his life and he kept the punches going, though Joe blocked most of them with his arm. And then a powerful right hook under Finch’s chin, followed swiftly by a left, caused him to crumple to the ground in a heap. The heat, though, was still flowing through Joe and he aimed a kick at the unconscious form. When he lifted his foot again, Tom approached his brother.

  ‘Hasn’t he had enough?’

  ‘Not while he breathes, no.’

  ‘Joe.’

  ‘Don’t pretend that this is some decent human being that I am kicking the shit out of,’ Joe said angrily. ‘He is a brutal, filthy rat and rats deserve no mercy.’

  ‘And you have given him none,’ Tom said gently. ‘But it’s over now. Let’s go home.’

  Tom’s words, soft though they were, penetrated Joe’s brain and he shook his head to try to rid himself of the red mist that had surrounded him since he had first grabbed Finch.

  ‘You all right?’ Tom asked.

  Joe nodded. ‘I am now.’ He looked at the unconscious man in a heap on the ground in front of him and said, ‘Is he dead?’

  Tom leaned down and felt for a pulse in Finch’s neck. ‘No. He is alive.’ He had the sudden urge to put his hands around that scrawny neck and squeeze tight. He resisted that and got to his feet quickly. He had one man’s blood on his conscience already. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s get out of here quick.’

  ‘Hush,’ Joe said suddenly, and both men listened intently. The scraping, scratching sound that had alerted Joe came again. Both men moved towards the sound as quietly and quickly as possible, and though they had their torches ready, they didn’t use them. They turned the corner of a bombed and now derelict factory and by the light of the moon saw a large rat sitting on a crate, cleaning its whiskers.

  Tom’s relief caused his limbs to shake slightly and Joe’s was apparent in his voice as he said, ‘Huh, aren’t we the big men? Frightened of a bloody rat.’

  ‘Aye,’ Tom said, ‘but let’s away now. To hang about here is madness.’

  They started up the road, but hadn’t gone far when they heard a gigantic splash. Without a word they hurried back the way they had come. The towpath was completely deserted, running footsteps the only sound in the still of the night. There was no visible sign of anything or anyone, including the crumpled body of Finch.

  Tom ran to the side of the canal, and in the light of the torch he played on the oil-slicked water he saw the crumpled body of Finch disappearing. ‘Some one disliked that bastard as much as we did,’ he said as his brother joined him.

  ‘See anything?’

  ‘Aye,’ Tom said. ‘I saw the slimy toad being sucked down under the water, and good riddance I say.’

  ‘And me,’ Joe said. ‘Finch is no loss to the human race. Let’s go and tell Aggie she can sleep easy in her bed now.’

  Aggie had had a wonderful evening. Paul did nothing but hold her hand, which she found very comforting, and when he produced a bar of chocolate she was speechless with pleasure for she hadn’t tasted it in years. The film too was magical, and she could not remember enjoying herself so much.

  She hadn’t been in long, and had just put the kettle on when Tom and Joe returned.

  Aggie scrutinised Joe’s face and said, ‘Have you been fighting?

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Oh, Joe,’ Aggie cried in annoyance, ‘what’s the matter with you? Not five minutes in the country and you’re fighting? And you’re a right mess too. Come through to the kitchen and I will try and tidy you up.’

  Joe followed her, sat obediently and watched Aggie pour water into a small bowl before saying, ‘You haven’t asked me who I have been fighting or why.’

  ‘It doesn’t interest me, that’s why,’ Aggie said shortly, dabbing at the lacerations on Joe’s face with a soft damp cloth. ‘I hate violence.’

  ‘This time you won’t,’ Joe said confidently. ‘It was Finch I fought with tonight.’

  Aggie’s hands were very still, but her voice shook as she said, ‘Did you kill him?’

  ‘No,’ Joe said. ‘I wanted to, but I didn’t. I beat him, and badly, but he was alive when we left him on the towpath.’

  ‘Then I am still in danger,’ Aggie said, trembling at even
the mention of the man’s name.

  ‘You’re not, Aggie,’ Tom said, from the doorway, ‘because Finch is alive no more. Someone hated him as much as we did and heaved his unconscious body into the canal after we left. We went back and looked.’

  Aggie could hardly believe it. ‘He couldn’t have stumbled away on his own?’

  ‘We heard the splash and went back straight away,’ Tom said. ‘Someone took the opportunity to finish him off once and for all. I saw the last of him disappear beneath the water.’

  ‘All the women who worked for him hated him,’ Aggie said.

  ‘Well, for them, and especially you, it’s over,’ Joe said. ‘You are free of Finch and can go forward with your life now.’

  Aggie felt the worry slide from between her shoulder blades as tears of blessed relief started in her eyes. She pulled her hands from Tom and covered her face as she sobbed. Tom and Joe looked at each other in consternation.

  ‘Aggie,’ Joe said uncertainly, ‘I thought you would be pleased.’

  Aggie looked up, and though the tears continued to trickle down her cheeks, her face was lit up in a way the men had never seen before as she said, ‘I am happy, you pair of eejits. God, don’t men know anything?’

  Aggie felt that her life started anew from that point, and Tom rejoiced with her as he realised she had been fear-ridden for most of her life. Now, of course, there was Paul in her life too, and the understanding they had that she had explained to the family. Everyone watched the tenuous relationship developing and hoped it would lead to something deeper, for they were both lovely people who deserved happiness.

  Molly, though, knew what Aggie was afraid of, and one day she set out to visit her. Aggie was surprised to see Molly, but she was very fond of the girl and welcomed her warmly. They talked of inanities until Aggie had made the tea.

  Then Molly said, ‘How do you really feel about Paul, Aunt Aggie?’

  Aggie smiled. ‘He asked me that too and I will give you the same answer I gave him. I like him.’