A Daughter's Secret (37 page)

‘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 about 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.’

‘He loves you.’

‘So he says.’

‘He does,’ Molly insisted. ‘Anyone with half an eye could see it. It’s in every line of his body, and especially in his eyes when he looks at you.’ She saw that her aunt was uncomfortable and she said, ‘You’re not enjoying this, are you? It is embarrassing you even to talk about how Paul feels.’

‘I am not used to it,’ Aggie said. ‘I was never encouraged to talk of feelings. I mean, most of what I used to feel for the punters was revulsion.’

‘You said you loved the man who had the club – Levingstone, was it?’

Aggie sighed. ‘I did, and when he died, God, it was terrible. I knew it was my fault in a way. I never felt that way for anyone again – never let myself, I suppose, if the truth is told. The pain of loss was too great too bear, and always at the back of my mind was Finch and his viciousness if I had become involved with anyone.’

‘But he is gone now,’ Molly said gently. ‘You are free.’

Aggie shook her head. ‘It’s a habit I have got into over the years,’ she said. ‘It is too late for me.’

‘I don’t believe that for one minute,’ Molly said. ‘Tell me, do you stiffen up when Paul tries to put his arms around you?’

‘He never puts his arms around me,’ Aggie said. ‘I stiffen just at the thought he might.’

‘Does he kiss you?’

‘Aye, on the cheek just.’

‘What do you let him do?’

‘Hold my hand,’ Aggie said. ‘Don’t look at me like that, Molly. I am doing my best and Paul accepts this.’

‘No, he doesn’t.’

‘Molly, he does. He understands.’

‘Of course he understands,’ Molly said. ‘That’s because he is a lovely man, but every man expects
to do more than just hold hands with the woman he loves.’

‘I can’t.’

‘You can,’ Molly said. She took hold of her aunt’s hand and said, ‘I am not here to bully you, but to tell you I hear all you say and empathise with it. That’s how I was with Mark, though I knew in my heart of hearts I loved him with everything in me. When I thought he was dead, my feelings sort of broke through that barrier and I was able to show my love for him fully. Finch, even from the grave, still has power over you. Break through it, Aunt Aggie, for if you do you will find a truly wonderful and fulfilling life on the other side.’

Long after Molly had left, Aggie sat and considered her words. Molly was the only one who could truly understand her, because she had been through a frightening experience too and reacted the same way. But, she had ridden above it, overcome her fears and trepidation and wanted the same for her aunt.

She examined her feelings for Paul. She honestly didn’t know if she loved him or not. She had pushed that emotion so far down, she didn’t know that it would ever surface again fully, but she admitted she felt something for Paul that she had not felt for any man since Levingstone. And Molly was right: now that Finch was no more, she was safe to love anyone she chose, safe to live her life in any way she wanted.

When Paul called for her that night, she greeted him in the hallway, for Tom was eating his dinner in the kitchen and she wanted a private moment with him. She knew he wouldn’t make the first move as he would be wary of scaring her off, so as he removed his coat she steeled herself and put her arms tight around him.

Paul was taken aback and he dropped his coat to the floor. He took Aggie in his arms as he had longed to do almost since the first time he had seen her. ‘Oh, Aggie,’ he said longingly, using her name for the first time and she felt feelings coursing through her that she had thought were buried fathoms deep and she sighed in deep contentment. It was as if she had come home at last to where she belonged.

‘Paul,’ she said, and the name sounded strange on her lips, though she had called him Paul in her mind from the first.