The Rag Nymph (aka The Forester Girl)

by Catherine Cookson

‘You climbed over the wall? Come in. What is it? What’s the matter?’

  ‘Ben mustn’t be in else he would have opened the gate, wouldn’t he? Well, I’ve…I’ve got news, I…I mean…er…can I sit down?’

  ‘Aye, yes, of course.’ Aggie led the way back into the kitchen, and there she pointed to the settle, inviting Annie Blackett to sit down.

  Nervously, Annie did so, but at the end of the seat, for she felt she had really bearded the lion in its den; it was the first time she had stepped foot in this house and she didn’t know what to make of it. It was a muddle and it wasn’t clean. But she must tell her what she had come about. She said, ‘It’s…it’s about Millie.’

  ‘What about her? You know something?’

  ‘Well, it’s like this, Mrs Winkowski. You know my cousin…I mean, I’ve got a cousin. She’s Nellie Pratt, an’ I’m not proud of her, but she’s not a bad sort. Sometimes she looks in on me when she can. It isn’t very often ’cos…’cos they are kept down to that quarter, you know. Well…well, she came in like a devil in a gale of wind not half an hour gone, and she wasn’t there two minutes; I tell you, she wasn’t there two minutes, an’ she was gabblin’. An’ what she said was, tell Ben that Millie is in the middle house in Bale Street, upstairs in the end room. But he can’t get in that way; he would have to come in through number one. She said being Sunday, there won’t be many kickin’ about, but Slim will be there in number one. That’s where he lives. Number two’s the middle house and it’s been proofed against noise. An’ she went on and on and I didn’t get half of it. She said she’d be there till half past six; then she would have to leave. But if Ben came in the end one’—she now put her hand to her head—‘I don’t know whether she meant the first one or the third one; I don’t know, but she said, the end one, and got over the wall, she’d try to leave the kitchen door open. But what she seemed so firm about was not to go to the pollis, ’cos they’ve got ways and means of scarperin’. There’s a hidden cellar there. Take him unawares, she said, if he’s there. That’s the only way. She was in a state, ’cos they’d murder her if they found out. She said to tell Ben the quicker the better, ’cos there was a client comin’. That’s what she said. Where is he? I mean Ben?’ She now got to her feet and walked across to Aggie who was supporting herself by leaning against the table, and she asked, tentatively, ‘Are you all right?’

  Aggie turned and looked at this woman whose name had irritated her for years, but it was many a long year, too, since she had seen her. She had considered her plain with nothing about her, but the face she was now looking into was quite homely, and she was clean and tidy, and she said, ‘Yes, lass, I’m all right, but I’ll be more all right when he gets back. He’s gone lookin’ for her, taken a cart and horse out into the country, where she was yesterday when she was picked up. But the minute he comes in I’ll tell him. Oh aye, I’ll tell him. If only I had the use of me limbs, like once upon a time, I’d be down there meself. And Annie’—she said the name gently—‘thank you, lass. And if you see your cousin you can carry me thanks to her an’ all. I don’t know what may have happened to my lass, but whichever way it goes I’ll always thank you for your help. And be she what she may, that goes for your cousin an’ all. An’ you can’t go climbin’ back over that wall. My goodness! I don’t know how you made it.’

  ‘There’s a couple of stones juttin’ out at yon side, but there’s no help this side.’ She smiled weakly, and Aggie said, ‘There’s a little back gate to the side there, but you’ll have to go round by the barn. I’ll get you the key. It’ll be a bit rusty ’cos it’s never been opened for years.’

  She rummaged in the scullery cupboard now and brought out a large iron key; then, dipping the end in a bowl of fat that was standing on the wooden bench, she handed it to Annie, saying, ‘That’ll help.’

  At the door, Annie said, ‘I hope he gets back soon, ’cos the way Nell was talkin’—’ She looked down to where her long coat was resting on the top of her boots, and she moved one foot after the other as if scraping them on a piece of flagstone that formed the step. Then she asked, ‘What’ll I do with the key?’ and Aggie replied, ‘Just throw it over the wall.’

  After closing the door, Aggie turned to the kitchen; but she did not sit down, she walked the length of the room from the door to the couch and back again. And she did so over and over again until, almost collapsing, she dropped down on the couch and, her hands clasped, she actually prayed aloud, saying, ‘Oh, God, bring him back soon.’

  It was six o’clock the same evening. Slim Boswell’s guest had just arrived by the same means that had brought Millie to the house the night before. And now Boswell was leading him through the first house and into the hall of the second, which was brilliantly lit.

  Smiling, Boswell said, ‘We sent to your club last night, but you weren’t there, but, knowing of your keen interest, I took the liberty of sending my man to you with a message; also of arranging for you to be picked up by my conveyance, because it wouldn’t have done for you to come from your home in your own conveyance, now would it, sir?’

  ‘No, not at all. Not at all. And thank you, thank you very much. You will be compensated for your trouble, I can assure you…Is she all right?’

  ‘Well, she is a little nervous, naturally.’

  ‘And you say she has been here since yesterday?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What a pity! What a lot of wasted time.’ He smiled.

  ‘Indeed, sir, indeed. I don’t know whether you’re aware that she had been visiting a Bernard Thompson, whom you know, I believe. Oh, yes, he’s had a keen interest in her. I learned this from…well, her father.’

  ‘I understood she had no parents.’

  ‘Her father turned up, sir. He had been doing a long stretch. He told me this young gentleman was in the habit of taking her to his house.’

  ‘I can’t believe it.’

  ‘Oh, you can, sir, you can.’

  ‘And she has a father?’

  ‘Oh, you needn’t worry about him, sir. He’s been dealt with. Oh, yes, yes; he’s been dealt with. A wily piece, if ever there was one.’

  There was an almost ecstatic look on the man’s face as he said to Boswell, ‘I never imagined this would come about—you know how interested I was some years ago.’

  ‘Yes, sir; yes, I do. But then I had to wonder if your interest still held, because she is no longer a little girl; in fact, you’ll be surprised, but she’s very attractive. Oh, yes, very pleasing. But I took the chance of sending for you, sir, because, you see, unless arrangements are made she won’t be able to stay here permanently. If you aren’t interested it would benefit me to send her on to…’

  ‘Oh, don’t you worry, Boswell. Don’t you worry. I’m interested, and for her future, too, if she’ll be amenable.’

  ‘You may find her a little quiet and perhaps unresponsive, because this morning we had to give her a slight dose, although Nell tells me it’s mostly worn off. You know the way, sir. I leave the rest to you.’

  Ten

  The terror in Millie that had frozen her into silence for a time disappeared with the morning, and frantically she examined the room, only to find it was windowless. The curtains were covering not a window but a bricked-up window space. She’d heard tell of this kind of thing having happened a long time ago to avoid a window tax. Nor could she find an implement that she could use. There were no vases or candlesticks on the narrow mantelpiece. The only article on the wash-hand stand was a large china bowl with a jug standing in it, and to the side, a small dish holding soap. The bedstead was brass, although it was draped in the same material as the bedspread. At each end of the bed and looped over a knob was a piece of rope about half an inch thick and all of three feet long, the ends frayed like a tassel. There was a chamber pot under the bed, and against the wall was what looked like a mahogany seat with a loose lid, which she lifted and saw contained a china pail. There was nothing in the wardrobe except two other shifts similar to the one
she was wearing.

  She had been too terrified to sleep, although she must eventually have cried herself to sleep, because she woke up to hear a key turning in the door and see the woman who had spoken kindly to her last night enter. She was carrying a tray on which was a cup of tea and a plate holding a slice of bacon and a fried egg, and, beside it, a small plate of bread and butter. The woman smiled at her and said, ‘Did you sleep, dearie?’

  She couldn’t answer her, but she pulled herself upwards when the tray was placed on her knees, and the woman said, ‘Eat that up; you’ll need it. Then I’d have a wash, and use the slop pail.’

  It was now that Millie pleaded, ‘Can’t…can’t you do anything for me, please? Please get me out of here. I’ll go mad, I will. Do you know that my mother committed suicide because of that man? And I’ll do the same before anybody touches me…I’ll do the same.’

  ‘You’d better not say that, lass, or he’ll have you tied up. Now that’s a good warnin’. Anyway, you’d have a job to commit suicide in here.’

  With an impatient movement Millie pushed the tray away from her, saying, ‘I don’t want that. I’m not going to eat.’

  ‘Well, that’s up to you. You’ll eat it before it eats you, and you might find you’ll be glad to in the end. Now, what I’m sayin’ to you is for your own good. It’s got to happen, an’ the sooner you get it over with the better.’

  ‘What…what are they going to do to me?’

  ‘Oh’—the woman smiled now—‘it won’t be they; it will be just one fella. And I happen to know who it is, and it’ll be all right. As I told you last night, nothing at all might happen, not at first, but you’ve got to co-operate, like.’

  As she was speaking, the door opened again and Boswell entered, and on the sight of him Millie pulled herself back against the pillows.

  And she watched his approach until he was standing close to her at the side of the bed and pointing to the breakfast she had pushed aside and saying, ‘Aren’t you going to eat?’

  ‘No, I’m not; and you’ll get into trouble when they find out. You’ll get into a great deal of trouble.’

  ‘Well, I’m used to trouble. I can always handle it, especially when I get trouble from little girls like you.’ He now bent forward, picked up the tray and pushed it onto her knee, and instinctively she picked up the plate and levelled it into his face. There was a scream, but it was from the woman, and then she was standing between the bed and the man, saying, ‘Don’t…don’t mark her. You’ll…you’ll be sorry. He’ll be comin’ today. Don’t mark her. Don’t mark her. Look, give her a dose to quieten her down. Bring it up and I’ll get her to take it.’

  ‘Take it!’ He ground out the words between his teeth. ‘I’ll take the skin off her. If we don’t get him today I’ll take the skin off her, and then she’ll be for the boat, and before long she’ll wish to God she was dead.’

  Trembling so much now that she had to grip a handful of the bedclothes, Millie watched the man walk to the end of the bed and grip the rope that was hanging from the post, then swing it backwards and forwards for a moment. Then he left the room.

  ‘That was a bloody silly thing to do, girl. It was the worst thing you could do. I’m tellin’ you—’ The woman bent forward, her face close to Millie’s now, and said, ‘He’s a devil when he’s roused. There’s nobody worse. You should never have done that. My God! It was the worst thing you could have done. Look, when the client comes, now I’m givin’ you good advice here, and listen. When your client comes…’

  ‘I have no client. I have no client. I don’t care; I won’t be handled.’

  ‘Shut up, girl! Shut up! Listen to me! For God’s sake and your own, be nice, and co-operate. That’ll mean he’ll come back and back again and Slim won’t be able to touch you. At least he’ll be well paid to keep his hands off you. Now that’s all I can say to you. That’s all the help I can give you.’

  She now bent down and picked the plate and the bacon from the floor; but when she came to the egg and its broken yolk, she muttered, ‘I’ll have to go and get a flannel for that.’

  She locked the door behind her.

  When she returned with a pan and brush and a wet cloth, she was also carrying a small mug, which she laid on the dressing table. After cleaning the floor, she picked up the mug, went to the bed, and said, ‘Here, drink this.’

  ‘No. No, I won’t!’

  ‘Look, lass; I don’t want to force you. Drink it.’

  ‘It’s got something in it?’

  ‘Yes, it’s got something in it, but it won’t make you sleepy, it’ll just make you feel better.’

  When her hand came out to knock the cup away, the woman yelled at her, ‘Don’t do that! I don’t want another spill. And I tell you I won’t be able to stop him goin’ for you again if you do that.’

  Something in her voice checked Millie’s hand, and she again gripped the bedclothes. But with a quick, practised movement, the woman nipped her nose, jerked her head back, and so forced her to swallow the contents of the mug, and Millie coughed and spluttered and sent a small spray flying on to the counterpane.

  The woman now gathered up the pan, brush, flannel and mug and left the room; and again the key was turned in the lock.

  Millie lay back on her pillows, and for the next few hours she knew a feeling of contentment, which was strange and not unpleasant. And when the woman brought her a meal at dinner time, although the feeling was wearing off, she ate it, and the woman said, ‘That’s more like it. Now you’ll feel better. I’d have a doze if I were you.’ And she did. She didn’t know how long she dozed and because of the bricked-up window she didn’t know what time of day it was, or even if it was day; what illumination there was came from two lamps.

  But as the hours wore on, the feeling of calmness disappeared, and she was once again herself and stiff with fear. At about this time the woman appeared with a scuttleful of coal, and as she was leaving, she said, ‘It shouldn’t be too long. And you mightn’t have me the morrow, so I’d advise you to behave yourself. D’you understand me?’

  Millie didn’t answer, but after the door had been closed and locked she began pacing up and down the room.

  She was still pacing when she heard the key being turned in the lock, and she stood rigid, her hands clenched by her sides. When the door opened slowly and she saw the man whom all the Quintons had called ‘master’, her jaw dropped, her eyes widened and a strange creeping feeling spread over her scalp as if the hairs were rising from it. She could feel his arms about her in the dance, and him lifting her from the ground, and she could hear Jane say her dress had come up so far that she was exposing her white stockings. And then, after she had lain for those three days on the Quintons’ couch downstairs, he had come and stroked her hair, and she had wished he wouldn’t. Raymond Crane-Boulder…!

  ‘Oh, Millie.’

  At the sound of her name coming from his lips in that strange way, she screamed. It was a high scream, and she turned and ran to the other side of the bed. But he remained where he was and his voice was soft and soothing as he said, ‘I’m not going to harm you, dear. I would never, never harm you. Do you know, from the first moment I saw you I loved you? Oh, yes, yes, I loved you; and you were just a child then, but how you have grown. You are more beautiful now. But come, let us sit down and talk, eh? Trust me, dear. Trust me. I wouldn’t harm you for the world. We could have wonderful times together.’

  He was now sidling along by the bottom of the bed; and with a spring she jumped on to it and off the other side and, in a rush, she made for the door. But he was there before her. And now he was holding her by the trembling shoulders, saying, ‘That would be no good. He is downstairs. There is only one way out, dear. I must be brutal by telling you that. But…but I could take you out, I could take you away. Oh, yes, let us talk. Come, let us talk.’ He was drawing her towards the bed and with a swift movement, he thrust an arm under her knees and lifted her up and laid her on it. Then he sat on the edge of i
t, holding her hands in his, patting them together as he would a child’s, saying, ‘Millie. Millie. You’re not afraid of me, are you? You mustn’t be, because we’re going to spend quite a lot of time together. You wouldn’t want to stay in this room forever, would you? Or, as he could do, be sent away by Slim? He’s not a nice man, you know, Millie, not at all. But I’ll see to you if you’ll only love me a little. That’s all I want, just for you to love me a little.’

  A faintness was coming over her: she couldn’t protest, she couldn’t scream; she felt she was going to pass out. She mustn’t. She mustn’t pass out. Mrs Aggie. Mrs Aggie. Ben. Oh, Ben, Ben, Ben. Ben.

  Ben had arrived home at five o’clock to Aggie’s greeting of, ‘Where’ve you been, man? For God’s sake, where’ve you been? I know where she is. I know where she is. Look, Annie said you hadn’t to get the pollis, but I think you’d better go to the station; you can’t do it on your own.’

  He had to take her by the shoulders and push her back onto the couch and yell at her: ‘Steady! Steady! Now give it to me word for word.’ And so, doing her best, she repeated Annie’s words.

  Before she had finished he had left her, at least he had got as far as the outer room when he sprang back again and said, ‘That old knife, like a cutlass, the one you used to have in the case, where is it?’

  ‘No, no; don’t take that. There’ll be murder.’

  ‘Yes, and it could be me. Yes, it could be murder. Where is it?’

  ‘It’s in that drawer, there.’ She pointed to the sideboard. ‘At the back of it.’

  He pulled open the drawer so quickly the whole lot spilled on to the floor with a crash, but it revealed a brown leather case with a curved end and an ornamental handle sticking out of the top. And when he pulled on the handle it revealed a dagger. He ran his finger along the curved blade. It was as sharp as on the day, many years ago, when Aggie had picked it out from a load of rubbish that was being thrown out of a house. He had wanted it then but she wouldn’t give it to him. But now it was in his hand, and he thrust it in his broad leather belt, leaving the shaft supported by the strap of his braces.