A Daughter’s Sorrow

‘Yes.’ Lainie chuckled. ‘She died when you were about three. She was forever talking about the Old Country – and her brogue was so thick that I couldn’t always understand her.’

I stopped walking and looked back. We had already come a couple of streets and I knew Tommy would be waiting anxiously for my return.

‘I’d better get back then,’ I said and leaned towards her, kissing her cheek once more. ‘Take care of yourself, Lainie.’

‘You take care of yourself too, Bridget – and don’t let Mam bully you too much.’

I nodded, but it was easy for Lainie to say. She was nearly eighteen and she had someone who cared for her. I was almost a year younger and I couldn’t just walk out the way she had – someone had to watch out for Tommy.

Mam would be in a temper when I got back, but I was used to that. I hated to see Lainie go, but there was no point in making a fuss over spilled milk. I supposed Lainie ought to have left home long ago. She would be much happier working for Bridie – even though the hotel owner was a bit mean from all accounts.

I liked Mrs Macpherson, but then I didn’t have to work for her. She was a widow who had come to live near St Katherine’s Docks three years earlier and seemed to be a plump friendly person. When she had taken over the Sailor’s Rest, it had been a run-down hovel, but she had built it into a thriving business.

My thoughts were still with my sister as I walked slowly home, deliberately loitering despite the bitter cold, which was chilling me through to the bone. I knew what was waiting for me when I got back and I wasn’t looking forward to the row with Mam, who would take out her frustrations on me now that Lainie had gone.

It was only after a few minutes of walking on my own that I realized how late and dark it was in the lane. Most of the houses were shuttered, their lamps extinguished. I had never been out this late alone before. Nervously, I glanced over my shoulder as I sensed someone was watching me … following me even. Chills ran through me, giving me goose pimples all over; I was suddenly frightened.

The East End of London was a harsh dirty place in 1899, its air polluted by the smoke of the industrial revolution that had taken place throughout most of the past century. Crime was rife in the narrow lanes and alleyways that bordered the river and it was far from safe for a young woman to walk alone on a dark night. I began to walk faster, my heart jumping with fright.

The wind was blowing off the river bringing the stench of the oily water and refuse, dumped into the docks by the ships anchored out in the river, into the lanes, which already carried their own smell of decay. The houses here were better than the tenements a few streets away, but nearer to the river several deserted buildings harboured vagrants and rats.

I looked round again, but it was too dark to see anything. The suspicion that someone was following me sent prickles of fear down my spine. Lainie had often warned me about walking alone late at night. She’d told me that Hans always insisted that he walk her back to Farthing Lane after a night out.

When she was with him, Lainie was safe. Hans was a gentle man, but he was a blond giant with feet the size of meat plates and hands to match. One blow from him would knock most men’s heads off their shoulders. I’d met him once and he’d made me laugh with his stories about the days when the Vikings used to raid the English coast.

I wished Hans were here with me now or that my brother Jamie would come whistling down the lane to meet me. There was a man following me, I was certain of it now.

‘Where are you goin’? Bit late for you, ain’t it? Or ’ave you taken to walkin’ the streets for yer livin’?’

The voice was close behind me and made me jump. As I turned, I knew instantly who the voice belonged to and my fear abated slightly.

I lifted my head proudly, meeting that hateful, leering look on his face. Harry Wright had been after me since I was at school. Then he had been a snotty-nosed bully with no shoes and his arse hanging out of his trousers like all the rest of the kids in the lanes. Now he was dressed in a toff’s suit and leather shoes. He had made good and there was only one way to do that round here.

‘Who made it your business? Haven’t they locked you up yet, Harry Wright?’

‘Nah – and they ain’t goin’ ter neither,’ Harry said, eyeing me speculatively. ‘Leavin’ home then? Martha chucked yer out?’ he asked in his broad cockney accent. Harry was a Londoner through and through, but his manner was coarse and unlike most of the friendly people who lived in our lanes.

‘Take yourself off where you’re wanted,’ I retorted angrily.

‘Hoity toighty tonight, ain’t we? Got somewhere to go, ’ave yer? Only I could offer yer a bed fer the night – mine!’

Something in the way he looked at me was beginning to make me uneasy. ‘I’m going home – and I wouldn’t come with you if I wasn’t! I’d rather sleep under the bridge. So just you clear off, Harry Wright! I don’t want anythin’ to do with the likes of you …’

‘You’re too cocky for yer own good, Bridget O’Rourke!’ His eyes narrowed as he looked at me. ‘I bet yer a tart just like that bleedin’ sister of yours. Bin with a bloke down the docks ’ave yer? Yeah, yer a slut just like that Lainie.’

‘My sister isn’t a whore. You’re drunk, that’s what’s the matter with you. Just you leave me alone, Harry Wright! If you try anything I’ll tell Jamie and he’ll give you a thrashing.’

‘Stuck up bitch!’ he snarled and lurched at me, suddenly slamming me into the wall of the nearest house.

I could smell the stink of strong drink on his breath and knew I had guessed right: he was very drunk.

‘You’ve been givin’ it away to anyone who asks. Well, I’m takin’, not askin’. I’ll just ’ave a little taste of what yer’ve bin givin’ away …’

He was so strong and the pressure of his body was holding me pinned to the wall. I screamed once before his hand covered my mouth. Fear whipped through me but I was determined not to give in.

His hand was smothering me, making it difficult to breathe. I bit it as hard as I could and he swore, jerking back in pain and then striking me so hard across the face that I tasted blood in my mouth.

I screamed again, clawing at his face with my nails. My head was reeling and I hardly knew what I did as I struggled desperately to save myself. He was dragging my skirts up, clawing at me down there, where no man had touched me. I gave another cry of fear and pushed hard against him. For a moment I was able to wrench free of him, but he grabbed me and swung me round. I kicked out at him and then he hit me so hard my head went spinning. I gave a moan of pain and he punched me again, sending me crashing to the pavement. I hit my head hard as I fell, and then I knew no more.

‘What’s happening … don’t touch me!’ I screamed as the man bent over me and I stared wildly into the face of a stranger. ‘What are you doing to me? Leave me alone … leave me alone …’ I was almost sobbing now, hysterical. ‘Please leave me alone …’

‘Are you all right, lass?’ The man’s gentle voice was concerned as he knelt over me, helping me to sit up. ‘Someone attacked you. I think he was trying to – well, I believe I got here in time. You hit your head as you fell – does it hurt badly?’ He was touching my head as he spoke, feeling for the wound. ‘You’re bleeding. You must have fallen hard. It’s a wonder the bastard didn’t kill you! You should get your mother to bathe it for you. Where do you live – near here?’

‘Just down the road …’ I took a sobbing breath. I was beginning to remember. It wasn’t this man who had attacked me, in fact he had probably saved me from Harry Wright’s attempt to rape me. Shame swept over me and I hardly dared to look at him. ‘I’m all right … thank you for helping me. Are you sure he didn’t … you know?’

‘He was certainly attempting it,’ the man said. ‘I had been visiting a friend of mine, Fred Pearce, and I came out just as you fell.’ He smiled at me, a flicker of amusement in his greenish-brown eyes. ‘I think you can be sure that he didn’t manage it. He ran off when I yelled at him or I’d have thrashed the bugger for you!’

‘Thank you,’ I said again and blushed. I was overcome with shame as I realized that Harry Wright would have succeeded if it had not been for this stranger. I also wondered what I must look like with my clothes all over the place. ‘He … he frightened me. I was walking home and he followed me …’

‘Do you know him?’

I hesitated, then shook my head. If I told anyone that it was Harry Wright who had attacked me, Jamie would go wild. He would go after him and when he caught him, he would kill him. I didn’t care what happened to Harry Wright, but I couldn’t risk my brother getting into trouble over this.

‘No, I’d never seen him before in my life …’ I gave a cry of distress as I looked down at myself and saw that my dress had been torn and was stained with dirt from the road. ‘Mam will half kill me!’ I said and scrambled to my feet. ‘I’ve got to go …’

‘I’ll come with you,’ he said, steadying me as I nearly lost my balance. ‘Just in case that bastard is still hanging around. Besides, you look as if you need a hand.’

He was being kind but all I wanted to do was get away. My head hurt and I felt sick and dizzy and worst of all I thought that he must be thinking the worst of me – a common tart who’d fallen out with one of her clients.

‘No, thanks all the same. I’ll be all right in a moment. Mam will kill me for sure if she sees me with a feller. You can watch me until I get to me door, if you like?’

‘All right,’ he said and grinned as I dared to look at him again. He had a friendly smile, though he wasn’t a real looker; his hair was short and wiry and a sandy colour in the light of the gas lamp from Farthing Lane, but he had a nice manner and I knew I was lucky that he’d happened along when he did. ‘Cut along home then, lass. You’d best not keep your Mam waiting too long.’

‘Thank you for helping me. I’m Bridget O’Rourke. I don’t know your name …?’

‘I’m Joe Robinson,’ he said. ‘Take care of yourself. I’ll wait here and see as no one tries anything until you get home.’

I sent him an awkward smile and started to run, my heart pounding as my feelings rose up to overcome me. Inside, I was shaking, my mouth dry and my stomach riled. My head was sore where I’d banged it, but it was the feeling of shame that was so unbearable.

I had been attacked and almost raped! Things like that didn’t happen to decent girls, and I was certain Mam would go for me when I got in. She was already in a bad mood and when she saw the state I was in, she would lose her temper.

When I got to my house I turned and waved at Joe Robinson. He was still standing beneath the gaslight and nodded to me as I pointed to the door of my house, but he didn’t make a move. He was going to make sure I got inside safely.

Most of the houses in the area were just two-up two-down with a lean-to scullery at the back and a privy of sorts in the back yard. Ours was an end of terrace and luckily we had an extra small room built on over the back washhouse. It was this extra room that had made it easier for Mam to take in a paying lodger after Sam O’Rourke disappeared. Had it not been for the lodger and the little bit of money the rest of us brought in, she would have had to go out scrubbing floors at one of the factories, like most of the women in the lane, which, knowing Mam, would have made her temper even worse.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, the front door opened and our lodger looked at me. He was a small, thin man with a pale face and sad eyes, and was just coming back home after visiting a friend. He often stayed out late in the evenings, but Mam never objected. She needed his rent too much to risk losing him. I put a finger to my lips, warning him not to give me away.

‘Don’t let on I’m here, Mr Phillips. I want to get upstairs before Mam sees me.’