A Dream of her Own (5 page)
‘No ... no ... no ...’ she sobbed at the hurt and the shame of it, until the hand that was holding her wrists seized her throat and pressed until she was silent. She could feel the chain of the necklace Nella had given her cutting into her neck. It was choking her. She tried to move but Gerald was too strong for her.
Her head began to pound. Over the hammering of her own heartbeat, Constance dimly heard the scrape of bolts shooting home in the door behind her. The hand that was grasping her throat moved up and took hold of her chin. She took a deep gulp of air as she heard him say, ‘If you scream, I’ll throttle you.’
He forced her head round so that she was staring up towards him. ‘Keep your eyes open. Look at me.’
Above his head she could see the lantern shape of the streetlamp looking as if it was disembodied and floating in the mist. Gerald’s face came nearer, blotting out the light. She could feel his breath, hot and damp on her exposed breasts, her neck and then her face as his lips covered hers and he kissed her savagely.
When he forced his way into her unwilling body there was a moment of pain so severe that Constance thought she would die. But there was no such release and the pain did not diminish, it grew even worse as Gerald began to move even more forcefully. She felt as if she were being torn apart.
The scream that she could not release echoed round and round inside her head until she felt that the whole world must hear her.
‘Don’t close your eyes, bitch. Look at me!’ Gerald was enraged but there was no way she could obey him.
Mercifully, her senses began to fade and, long before he had reached his climax, Constance was unconscious.
Chapter Three
‘Get up.’
The order came from just above her head. Constance stirred and pain stabbed her side. She groaned.
‘Be quiet!’
She opened her eyes. Gerald was crouching over her. Before she could scream he clamped his hand over her mouth. It smelled of stale tobacco. She gagged and involuntarily bit into the firm flesh.
‘Ach! You little bitch!’
Gerald snatched his hand back and slapped her face. The force knocked her head sideways on to the ground. The pain of the impact made her feel sick. Lights flashed behind her eyes. Before her head had cleared he brought his mouth closer and rasped in her ear, ‘Now get up and go on your way. I don’t want you causing any trouble.’
His tone was urgent, even menacing, but she couldn’t obey. What was wrong with her legs? It was like a bad dream. She wanted to go - she
had
to go - and yet she couldn’t move. Her vision gradually cleared. She stared through the gloom and began to make sense of what she saw just a few feet away from her - the bottom of the door. How long was it since she had heard the bolts shooting home? How long had she been lying here?
had
to go - and yet she couldn’t move. Her vision gradually cleared. She stared through the gloom and began to make sense of what she saw just a few feet away from her - the bottom of the door. How long was it since she had heard the bolts shooting home? How long had she been lying here?
Gerald grabbed her shoulders. ‘Didn’t you hear me? I want you gone from here.’
He began hauling her up. She tried to bend her knees and push upwards but her feet slipped on the greasy surface of the yard and her limbs were not strong enough to support her.
‘Can’t you help yourself? For God’s sake, don’t fall down again!’
His anger shocked her into obedience and she found herself standing at the foot of the steps in the area yard. The street above was still enveloped in fog. The streetlamp did little to disperse the shadows.
‘No!’ She shied backwards when she felt the touch of Gerald’s hands. He was kneeling and fumbling at her skirt.
‘I’m only pulling your clothes down, you stupid slut. Making you respectable. Can’t have you wandering the streets showing everyone what a little whore you are, can we?’
‘No!’ Her voice cracked. Memories started flooding back. She had been semiconscious, dazed with fright and half-suffocated, but she would never forget the shock when he had entered her, never forget the pain.
With the memory, the hurt renewed itself. She felt a stinging soreness between her legs. She looked at Gerald with loathing but he was bending down, picking something up from the ground near by.
‘Here’s your box.’ He thrust it into her hands and then grabbed her arm and began to push her up the stone steps ahead of him. Her abused limbs shrieked in agony and she began to cry. She couldn’t help herself.
‘Stop that! You enjoyed every minute of it. In fact, I’ve done you a favour; I’ve given you something to remember. I guarantee the little shopkeeper won’t be able to match me!’
They had reached street level and Gerald let go of her arm so suddenly that she fell back against the railings, clutching her box with both arms against her body like a shield. She was shivering with distress.
He glared down at her. ‘Don’t pretend you’re injured. Don’t go running to anyone telling them that I’ve hurt you - that I forced you. You asked for everything you got.’
‘No ...’ she groaned, and shook her head despairingly.
Gerald grabbed her chin roughly with one hand and forced her to look at him. ‘Oh yes, you did. My mother will vouch for the fact that you were acting provocatively - leading me on. She saw the way you looked at me. That’s why she had to throw you out of the house. Do you think anyone would believe a little nobody like you rather than a respectable woman like my mother?’
It’s true, Constance thought. No one would believe me if I told them what had really happened. And in any case who could I tell? Not John, dear Lord, not John ...
Gerald caught the momentary flash of fear in her eyes and he went on more reasonably, ‘You know it’s in your own interests to keep quiet, don’t you?’
‘My interests?’
‘Of course. Your bridegroom won’t want shop-soiled goods, will he?’ He laughed at his own feeble joke. ‘No, you’d better keep quiet or you’ll end up with nothing. No wedding and no job. My mother won’t have you back and you’ve no hope of a reference. It would be back to the workhouse - or worse. It could mean the streets for you. I’m sure you know what that means.’
Constance raised her head and met his eyes. She had never felt such hatred in her life; it was all the stronger because she was powerless. Frustration benumbed her. Gerald mistook her stillness for passivity.
‘There, I can see you’re all right, so you’d best be on your way. I’ll walk with you as far as the West Road. Where are you going?’ He reached for her arm. ‘Here ...’ Constance shrank away from him. ‘Oh, very well.’ Gerald shrugged and started walking up the hill.
She pressed herself back against the railings and waited. She held her breath, letting it out in a long, ragged sigh when the mist began to swallow him. Then, she took hold of the string handle of her box and, carrying it with one hand, began to walk slowly in the same direction. She had to go that way; the way downhill led only to the huddled houses of Scotswood and, eventually, the river.
The fog was not constant: it thinned and swirled, sometimes revealing the way ahead and sometimes appearing like an impenetrable grey veil. Each time it cleared a little Constance glimpsed Gerald’s broad-shouldered figure ahead of her and she slowed down.
After a while he stopped and cocked his head on one side as if listening for her footsteps. When Constance stopped too, he laughed and started off again. And so he made a pantomime of their progress until he reached the wide road that swept down at right angles to the city.
Now she could hear other footsteps, voices, the jingle of a harness, then horses’ hoofs on the cobbled road. Gerald raised his arm and she heard him shout, ‘Halloa!’ Coach lights pierced the murky air and a cab loomed out of the mist and drew up beside him.
He turned back to look at her and raised his arm again. For a moment she thought he was gesturing towards her, offering to take her in the cab, and she shook her head and backed away. But his arm moved downwards and something hit the pavement at her feet.
‘Your purse,’ he called. ‘I almost forgot. It fell out of your pocket when ... before ...’
Gerald climbed into the cab. She heard him order, ‘The Haymarket - Alvini’s.’ The coachman cracked his whip and the cab lumbered downhill towards the city centre.
And then, when she was sure that he had gone, Constance began to tremble. At first the movement was barely perceptible but soon her limbs were shaking violently. Sobs racked her body and she tried to stifle them, but she could not stop the tears streaming down her face.
‘Are you all right, hinny?’
Constance stared round wildly at the question. An old woman had appeared beside her. Her body was bent over, her head tilted sideways and upwards as she stared at her. Constance stared back, half wondering if the woman was real or just another part of her nightmare.
‘Can’t you speak? Wha’s the marrer? Are you ill?’
The apparition thrust her wrinkled face closer; droplets of moisture beaded her grimy features, the sour-sweet smell of poverty rose from her clothes. Constance recoiled instinctively. ‘I’m fine.’
‘You don’t look fine. You look fair done in.’ The woman peered at her through straggled wisps of hair. She sucked her breath in. ‘What’s happened here? Do you want the pollis?’
‘No, don’t call the police. Nothing has happened. I’m just resting. I’ll be going soon.’
‘I seen him go.’
‘What? Who did you see?’
‘The gen’leman. I seen him get in the cab - but he spoke to you afore he went. What did he give you?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. No gentleman has given me anything.’
The mist was thinning now, writhing in smoky ribbons around the shrivelled form of her inquisitor.
‘What’s that then?’ The old woman pointed to the ground near her feet. ‘He threw something. I heard it land ... heavy ... looks like a purse.’
‘My purse ... I dropped it when ... he was returning it.’
‘Divven’t you want it, then?’ The old woman stooped and snatched it up.
‘Yes ... my wages ... It’s all I have. Give it to me.’
‘Wages! You must hev a good position. There’s a half-sovereign here!’ She had opened the purse and tipped the contents on to one filthy palm. Her fingers curled upwards like a claw.
Constance frowned. ‘There can’t be.’
‘I know a half-sovereign when I see one.’ She thrust her hand up towards Constance’s face. There, amongst the small change that was made up from her most recent wages and all the rest she had managed to save from her monthly salary of ten shillings, lay a bright coin that had not been there before.
‘Whatever it was that you say didn’t happen, he must hev enjoyed hisself !’ she cackled. ‘And I divven’t know why you’re looking so miserable - I know many a lass who’d be glad to drop her drawers for half a croon!’
‘You’re disgusting! I didn’t do anything. I don’t want his money!’
‘Divven’t shout, you’ll have the pollis on us!’ The woman glanced over her shoulder, then moved closer and grasped Constance’s arm. ‘Now lissen, you shouldn’t be out on yer own; you don’t know how to look after yourself. Why divven’t you gan yem?’
‘Home!’
The woman was disconcerted. She stepped back. ‘Hev you got some place to gan?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s not too far?’ She edged away.
‘No, not too far.’
‘I’ll be off, then.’
It was a moment before Constance realized that the woman had taken not only Gerald’s half-sovereign but the purse as well, and all the rest of the money that it contained.
She began to laugh - thin high laughter that was more like crying. The Bible was right:
from him that hath not shall be taken away even that which he hath ...
How wise Mrs Sowerby had been to prepare her servants for the vicissitudes of life - especially when it was her own beloved son who had caused them!
from him that hath not shall be taken away even that which he hath ...
How wise Mrs Sowerby had been to prepare her servants for the vicissitudes of life - especially when it was her own beloved son who had caused them!
‘Who’s that?’
A door had opened a little way along the street and in the rectangle of light Constance saw the stocky figure of a man peering towards her. She forced herself to be silent and, before he could enquire further, she had darted across the road and vanished into the shadows.
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