A Daughter’s Secret

The cab driver longed to ask why she was here then and whose choice it was, but he stopped himself. His wife was always telling him not to get so involved in the lives of the people he carried in his cab. His job, she said, was to get people from A to B, and if he didn’t spend so long talking to each one then he would probably earn a damned sight more than he did.

She was probably right, but he was interested in people. He couldn’t help it and he reckoned he couldn’t do the job as effectively if he didn’t like people.

As for the young Irish girl, she looked so vulnerable and naïve she aroused the paternal instinct in him. So he said, ‘You are very wet, miss, if you don’t mind me saying so. You should get on to where you are going quickly and then out of those sopping clothes or you will be ill.’

Aggie felt ill, chilled to the marrow, but that wasn’t solely due to the weather, as she well knew. She wasn’t at all sure either, now she was here in the city, what she should do next. McAllister said that his sister lived no distance from the centre in a place called Edgbaston, but in the deepening dusk, how far was far, and in what direction? She shivered with apprehension more than cold, because she guessed that once she left the city centre there would be few abroad that rain-sodden night to advise her.

‘I know I should,’ she said to the man, ‘but I am not at all sure what to do now.’

‘Well, where are you making for?’

‘Varna Road,’ Aggie said. ‘My aunt lives there.’

The cab driver thought of his young daughter at home. She was only six, but he hoped that she would never have to travel to some strange city alone, and he said angrily, ‘Fine aunt then, if she hasn’t even come to meet you.’

‘I don’t know her that well,’ Aggie admitted. ‘And I was delayed and unable to let her know. I was told it wasn’t far from here. If you just give me directions …?’

‘And have you die of pneumonia?’ the cab driver said with a rueful grin. ‘Come on, I’ll have you there in a jiffy. It is no distance really, just off Belgrave Road.’

‘Oh,’ said Aggie taken aback. ‘Will it cost very much?’

‘Not to you, and not tonight,’ the cab driver said, picking up Aggie’s bag with ease. He knew if his wife ever got to hear about this she would give out to him, but the girl was affecting him strangely. ‘Let’s just say that I am feeling in a generous mood.’

To Aggie this was all a little unreal, but she was so very tired, cold and unnerved at the thought of what lay ahead of her. So she let this man, this perfect stranger, take her hand, help her into the cab and drive her into the night.

Varna Road was a depressing street, one of many of back-to-back housing that was so prevalent in the city. It was Aggie’s first experience of such a neighbourhood and she was shocked to the core. Had she but known it, the cab driver hesitated to leave her there. He knew the profession her aunt was probably involved in if she lived in that street. Surely she hadn’t invited this untouched and beautiful young girl to join her?

‘It’s none of your business if she has,’ he could almost hear his wife’s voice in his ear. ‘Needs must when all is said and done.’ And so he said to Aggie, ‘You all right then? You did say this one.’

In the light of the guttering gaslamps Aggie could see the whole place was shabby, much of the paint was off the door, and flimsy grey nets hung at the grimy windows. She noted with shock that one of the panes of glass was out altogether and replaced by a piece of card. She hated the cab driver to think that she was related to someone who lived in such a dingy, unkempt house, and yet this was the address that McAllister had written.

As she lifted out her bag she said, ‘Yes, this is it. Thank you so much. You have been very kind.’

‘You’re sure now that you will be all right?’

‘Aye,’ Aggie said, wondering if she would ever be all right again. ‘Honestly, I will be grand now.’

The cab driver would rather have waited until he saw the girl safe inside the house at least, but he had earned little money that night and couldn’t go home yet awhile, and so he waited only until he saw the girl lift the knocker before he jiggled Bessie’s reins, the horse gave a toss of her head and the cab rattled over the cobbles.

While she waited for someone to open the door, Aggie watched the cab driver go, heard the clip-clop of the horse’s hoofs and the rumble of the cab grow softer, and still no one came in answer to her knock. She lifted the knocker again, but before she let it drop, the woman next door came out.

‘Ain’t no good you knocking there, ducks. Her’s done a moonlight. Heard tell the bums were coming to put her out, like.’

Aggie stared at the woman in stupefaction. She hadn’t the least idea what she was talking about.

The woman realised that by the look on her face and it annoyed her. ‘You deaf or just plain stupid?’ she barked.

‘I’m sorry,’ Aggie said, trying to collect her scattered wits. ‘I am looking for a Mrs Halliday, a Mrs Gwen Halliday.’

‘Ain’t you listened to a bleeding word I said?’ the woman snapped. ‘She ain’t here, like I already told you.’

‘Not here?’ Aggie repeated. ‘But where is she?’

‘How the bleeding hell do I know?’ the woman said. ‘Look, you come over on the banana boat or what?’ And then at the terrified look on Aggie’s face, she relented and said, ‘Look, ducks. Her was took bad and got behind with the rent, like, and she heard that the bums was coming. If they throw you out they take your things to sell them, so Gwen took off, like, in the middle of the night. She dain’t leave no forwarding address neither. People who have to do a moonlight don’t usually, in case them bums get hold of it.’

‘So no one knows where she is?’ Aggie asked in horrified tones.

‘That’s about the shape of it,’ the woman said. ‘What do you want with her anyroad? You in trouble? Up the duff, like?’

‘Up the duff?’

‘Lord give me strength,’ the woman cried in exasperation. ‘You got a babby in your belly, ’cos that’s the main reason people come seeking Gwen?’

Aggie nodded miserably.

‘Do you know of anyone else?’ the woman asked.

‘I don’t,’ Aggie said. ‘Not a soul.’

‘You poor sod,’ the woman said. ‘Then it will be the workhouse for you.’ She saw the shiver that ran through Aggie and cried, ‘OK, so it ain’t the Ritz, but it’s better than the streets. And talking of streets, I better get out there and earn my crust, though I doubt there will be many punters out in this filthy night.’

Aggie suddenly realised what line of work the woman was talking of. In case there should be any doubt, she went on, ‘I think I’ll go and hang around the gentlemen’s clubs in the town. They often take you to a nice warm room. Course, a lot of them want the kinky stuff, but I don’t mind that if they pay enough.’ The woman wrapped her shawl tighter around herself as she spoke. ‘Well, tar-rah a bit, duck, and if I was you I would get myself inside somewhere pronto. Even the workhouse is better than freezing to death.’

Aggie didn’t speak. She couldn’t, for despair and desperation were blocking her throat. Then, as she watched the woman tripping down the street, sudden nausea overcame her and she turned and vomited into the gutter.

Aggie had always been a practical child, an attitude fostered by her mother, but now she walked through the backstreets of Birmingham aimlessly and in despair. The rain continued to trickle from skies that now were almost black as the night began to close around her. She had never ever been so petrified with fear. She hadn’t a clue what was going to happen to her because she knew not one person in that teeming city.

She had money and could probably get lodgings, but that would only help for that one night, and there was still the problem of getting rid of the child she carried. She had little hope of finding this Gwen Halliday if she didn’t want to be found, and so her life was effectively over, though her whole body recoiled from knocking at the door of the workhouse.

She wasn’t sure afterwards how long she had walked, or why. She just felt she couldn’t stand still. She was light-headed with worry and lack of food. It had been hours since she had eaten. Hunger pangs began in her stomach so severe that she wrapped her arms tight around herself and groaned in pain.

As the night really took hold, the temperature dropped and Aggie began to shiver violently, for her sodden coat offered little protection against it. She felt suddenly weary too. She stumbled as she walked, and longed to lie down and rest somewhere, so that a little later, when she tripped over the kerb and fell to the ground, hitting her head on the cobbles, she made no effort to get up.

Lethargy so affected her that to move was too much effort. She suddenly had no pain, just a numbness affecting her whole body. A tiny part of her urged herself to get to her feet, to keep walking, but she ignored it. She lay as still as the death that would soon claim her, while the night deepened and settled around her and the rain continued to fall, and she was so tired that her eyes closed of their own volition.

SIX (#ulink_4cb0ae0d-54c5-579d-a290-cd2c37d1540e)

Lily Henderson was making her way home. Usually she didn’t return until much later, but the rain had kept the punters away that night. In the end, she was so chilled she had gone into a public house for a few gins to chase the cold away. As she swayed her way home, she almost laid her length on the cobbles when she stumbled over Aggie. At first she thought it was just a pile of rags, and complained loudly at the stupidity of people throwing old clothes into the street to trip up innocent people going about their business.

Her strident voice semiroused Aggie, and she groaned. Immediately Lily stopped her complaining, not entirely sure if she had really heard a sound or not. But then it came again. Lily fell to her knees and whistled in astonishment when she felt Aggie’s saturated coat. She worked her way up her body until she reached the face, and assuming by the bonnet that the figure was a woman, she tapped her cheek lightly.

‘Come on, ducks,’ she said, and when there was no response, the smack was a little harder. This was followed by a shake, but the woman continued to lie so still and silent that Lily was alarmed. If they didn’t get her indoors soon, the girl or woman, whatever she was, would die. She set off for home to get help, hoping and praying that there was someone in who had also returned early.

The houses in Belgrave Road were large terraces. Lily shared one of these with other ‘ladies of the night’. Each had her own room, and there was a larger room downstairs that they used as a sort of sitting room. They got on well enough, for each had her patch and none impinged on the others.

Susie Wainwright, who was much younger than Lily, had just got in. She had changed out of her wet clothes and was drinking a cup of tea in the sitting room. Her feet were bare and she had a towel wrapped turban-style around her black curls. She had no intention of stepping out again that night and wasn’t a bit impressed with the tale that Lily was telling.

‘So,’ she said, ‘why are you telling me this?’