A Daughter’s Secret

McAllister’s eyes widened salaciously. ‘Can’t wait for another session, is that it?’

‘Ssh,’ Aggie cautioned, looking anxiously around at the people streaming out of the church to see if anyone was in earshot. ‘Not here. Come a little way in amongst the gravestones.’

Tom had seen her talking with McAllister and he skirted the back of the church and secreted himself behind another gravestone, not far from where they had stopped. He could plainly see that Aggie was angry with what McAllister had said and he heard her say sharply, ‘You disgust me. It gives me no pleasure to have to seek you out this way, but I needed to see you as soon as possible.’

‘What about?’ Bernie asked suspiciously.

‘Shh, I can’t tell you anything here,’ Aggie said. ‘We daren’t risk being overheard. I can’t get away easily in the day, and certainly not without permission being granted and a load of questions asked. Anyway, there are too many people about in the day, but the house is quiet before half-past ten most nights, so could you meet me at the head of the lane tomorrow night about that time?’

Bernie’s eyes narrowed. ‘Dare say I could,’ he said. ‘But I wish you would stop all this secrecy and tell me what it is all about.’

‘You’ll know all tomorrow.’

‘Not a little hint?’

‘None,’ Aggie retorted. ‘I need to go. My mother is looking for me.’ And catching sight of Biddy standing at the gate gesturing to her impatiently, she scurried towards her.

Bernie watched her go with a lewd smile on his lips.

This was noticed by his wife, who followed the direction of his gaze and her eyes came to light on Aggie Sullivan. Surely to God he hadn’t designs in that direction. Thomas John would tear him apart if he thought he was messing with his daughter. Well then, let him, she suddenly thought and, God forgive me, I would even help him, for Bernie is little use to me either in the shop or out of it. It would make no odds to me if he was to meet a sticky end. In fact, it would be one less thing to worry about.

As Philomena turned away, Tom emerged from behind the tombstone. He had listened to the whole conversation and he was more worried than ever. He knew for certain now what Aggie wanted to see McAllister about because every morning she was sick. She was expecting the man’s child, and the shame and disgrace of it would destroy them all.

He did wonder what Aggie expected McAllister to do about it, but he knew he needed to be told. However, Tom decided, after what McAllister had done to her before, there was no way he was going to let her meet him alone and in the pitch-black. He wouldn’t tell her, though. He would just go after her and try to keep her safe.

FOUR (#ulink_b717260b-029a-5e21-b8a0-33baa06a1f90)

The clock beside Aggie’s bed said twenty past ten when she began to dress. Tom, in the room beyond, listening intently, heard Aggie, and slid out of bed carefully so as not to wake Joe or Finn. When he had followed his two brothers to bed an hour before, he had thought to get undressed was a waste of time, but if Finn or Joe were to wake, they might be very interested as to why he had got into bed with all his clothes on and the least people knew about this the better for Aggie. He eased the window up and the blast of cold air caused Finn to mumble in his sleep and turn over. He didn’t wake, though, and Tom was through the window in seconds, pausing only to close it again because the night air was piercingly cold.

The sky was clear, the stars twinkling silver while the moon, like a golden orb, lighted the way up the lane enabling Tom to see to keep a sensible distance between him and his sister.

Aggie, unaware of this, reached the road and looked about her anxiously. What if the man didn’t come? She bit her lip in agitation and the next minute felt strong arms encircle her as Bernie stepped out of the shadows.

‘Leave go of me,’ Aggie said, twisting out of his grasp.

‘What’s up with you?’ McAllister demanded. ‘Last time you couldn’t get enough of it, so don’t come the innocent with me.’

‘Stop it, Bernie,’ Aggie said. ‘You know that just isn’t true. Anyway, you had me filled with poteen. When you left me, I could barely make it home.’

‘The poteen was just to release your natural desires,’ McAllister maintained.

Aggie shook her head. ‘I was filled with shame afterwards.’

‘That was afterwards and the way the Church has you,’ McAllister said.

‘And what purpose was the punch in the face?’ Aggie said bitterly.

‘Without the poteen you were too hidebound by the Church to enjoy it at all,’ McAllister said. ‘And you wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t do as you were told. Admit it. After you drank plenty, you put up no resistance at all.’

Every word McAllister spoke hammered into Aggie’s heart. She knew she hadn’t struggled enough. Some girls would rather die than give in to a man the way she had.

By the light of the moon, McAllister watched Aggie’s face, saw the shame and recognised the guilt that she hadn’t struggled enough. ‘You probably wouldn’t admit it in a million years,’ he said, ‘but you enjoyed it as much as me.’

His words inflamed Aggie. She wasn’t going to take all the blame. All right, maybe there was a flaw in her make-up, but there was a great, damaged slash in his.

‘Are you mad?’ she cried. ‘Dear God, you must be some sort of deranged creature if you think that I enjoyed one minute of that rape. And that is what it was, Bernie, rape. You forced me to have sex with you and when I would not submit to you willingly, you got me so drunk that I didn’t know whether I was coming or going. Did you not wonder what my parents would do when I arrived at their door as drunk as a lord, with the dress almost ripped from me and my stockings in my hand? Did you not worry that my father would come up to the house and beat you to pulp?’

‘I knew the likelihood was that your father wouldn’t be there,’ McAllister said. ‘I popped into Grant’s Bar before I went over to the church hall and your father was there celebrating the sale of a bull, and to all intents and purposes set to make a night of it.’

‘There was always my mother.’

‘You are a resourceful girl,’ McAllister said. ‘I was sure you would think of something. If you hadn’t I would have had to tell your mother the brazen hussy you had become.’

‘She … she wouldn’t have believed you.’

‘Oh, yes, she would,’ McAllister insisted confidently. ‘The way I would tell it she would believe it. But in the end that wasn’t necessary. She told Philomena the following Saturday that she had been at some neighbour’s house that night helping with a birth till nearly eleven. She said you had the measles too and wouldn’t be at any Christmas concert. So, you see, you got away with your waywardness.’

Aggie opened her mouth to say there was no waywardness on her part, but she shut it again, for what did it matter what he thought? They had to deal with the consequences of that night. She said, ‘I haven’t come to bandy words with you. How I behaved that night is neither here nor there, but what is important is the fact that I am carrying your child.’

She let the words sink in and though she could see little of his face she saw his eyes flash in the moonlight and heard his sudden intake of breath.

‘And now I want to know what you are going to do about it,’ Aggie added.

‘What d’you want me to do?’ McAllister demanded harshly. ‘Surely, this is your problem?’

‘It takes two, Bernie,’ Aggie cried. ‘I didn’t do it on my own.’

‘You offered it on a plate,’ McAllister said. ‘A man cannot be blamed for taking what is offered so willingly.’

‘Stop that talk,’ Aggie said. ‘It’s solutions I need now.’

‘What do you expect me to do? You’re pregnant and that’s that.’

‘Isn’t there some way of having it taken away?’

‘There are some places but it is illegal and dangerous.’

‘I don’t care how dangerous it is,’ Aggie declared. ‘You must help me, Bernie.’

McAllister shook his head. ‘I don’t have to do anything,’ he said. ‘When it becomes apparent, I could easily tell your father how you begged for it and how I tried to fight you off and eventually could hold off no longer. He will believe me. He would know how a man has no defence against a wanton woman so determined. He will wonder what sort of girl he has reared and then send for the priest.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure about how my father would react,’ Aggie said stoutly. ‘He has great feeling for me, and after fifteen years surely he knows the kind of daughter he has? I should be careful, if I were you, for he might come for you some fine night.’

‘I don’t think so,’ McAllister said almost mockingly. ‘And whatever feeling he has for you, would it extend to rearing your bastard child? You would drag your family through the mud with you. They would never be able to hold up their heads again.’

Aggie knew McAllister was right. She imagined her father’s face filled with shock and reproach and then disgust, and she knew she could not do that to him. The disgrace of it all would surely kill him.

‘And then of course there’s your mother,’ McAllister said, and, despite the darkness, saw the shudder that ran all through Aggie’s body as he added, ‘There are places you can be sent to, run by the nuns.’