The Rag Nymph (aka The Forester Girl) Read online

  The last words were spoken almost in a whine, and they weren’t lost on Millie, nor yet on the other two. And so no-one was surprised when he said, ‘Since I came out last week I haven’t been able to pull myself together—you can probably understand that—and…and the bit that I had is…is gone. I wonder if you could loan me a few shillings until…?’

  Before his voice trailed off Aggie had gone to the sideboard, and there, lifting the lid of the tin cash box, she took out a florin, which she handed to him, saying, ‘That should see you berthed for a couple of nights.’

  He looked at the coin in the palm of his hand and the sound he made was like a huh! or a slight laugh; then he picked up his high hat from a chair and put it on, pulling the brim slightly to the side of his face where the scar was. His eyes now on Millie, he said, ‘Be seein’ you, daughter. I’ll be poppin’ in, naturally, ’cos we’ve got to talk, haven’t we? Settle things, like.’

  On this he went out, followed by Ben; but Millie and Aggie remained where they were. When the door was closed Millie almost threw herself on to the couch and, thumping the seat with her fist, she said, ‘I…I’ve dreamed of what he was like for years, and years, and years, Mrs Aggie, I’ve dreamed of what he was like. He had a lovely face, his manner was kind. He…he, in a way, was a gentleman. The only resemblance left is that man’s height.’

  ‘Girl!…Listen. You’ve got to face up to it, he’s not that man; he is your father, as he said. And, you know, there’s one thing: we can’t pick our parents. Oh, I wish to God we could. What different lives we’d lead. Now, there’s none of you in him; rather, I should say, there’s none of him in you. You’re on your mother’s side.’

  On this Millie sprang straight up and, thrusting her face out and up towards Aggie, she hissed, ‘And she was a street woman! Sister Mary said that; she was a street woman. I didn’t know what it meant then, but I know now. I’ve known for a long time. I’ve a prostitute for a mother and a murderer for a father. Oh, Mrs Aggie. Mrs Aggie.’ The tears were spurting from her eyes.

  Taking her by the shoulders, Aggie shook her, the while crying at her, ‘Your ma was no prostitute! She was a young woman who was reduced to doin’ the only thing she could do to keep you alive. But she found she couldn’t stand it. So don’t you ever despise her. Whatever you come to think about him, leave your mother out of it…’

  Aggie suddenly found her arms pulled away from Millie’s shoulders, with Ben yelling at her, ‘What d’you think you’re up to? Knockin’ her brains out! That’s all she needs is some rough handling after seeing that individual.’

  ‘She was goin’ into hysterics.’

  ‘Well, it’s not to be wondered at.’ He sat down on the settle beside Millie and, putting his arms about her, he brought her head to rest on his shoulder, saying, ‘Stop it now. Come on. It’s goin’ to be all right. You won’t have to go near him again if you don’t want to.’

  ‘Oh, that’s marvellous advice you’re givin’ her. Marvellous! Now, you get it into your head, Mister clever bugger, the man’s her father. He’ll have a right to see her. You won’t be able to do anything about that. And I should imagine he’s here for some time unless he gets up to something and goes along the line again. And that really wouldn’t surprise me.’

  Millie drew herself from Ben’s hold and, looking from one to the other, she said, ‘It’s awful. It’s awful for me to say this, but…but I don’t want to see him. Yet he is my father, I know he is, so why should I be repulsed by him? But…but I can’t help it. I…I can’t see me ever getting to like him.’

  ‘Oh my God! There’s that bell again. But don’t you worry, lass, I’ll go and see to it. Just sit there and calm yourself down.’

  As Aggie left the room Ben stood for a moment and looked at Millie; then, turning swiftly, he went out and caught up with Aggie as she was entering the yard, and, ignoring the customer standing waiting to be served, he said, ‘Look here; how long is it since you saw your friend…the sergeant?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know; weeks. Why?’

  ‘Well, I think I would take a toddle down and have a word with him, because, you know, I don’t believe that bloke’s story, him gettin’ twelve years for protectin’ his wife. No; there’s something slimy, sly, about that bloke. Now, people like your sergeant should have ways and means of connectin’ with…where was it? Durham, and he could likely get the ins and outs of the real story. I think it would pay you to take that little walk. What d’you say?’

  ‘Aye, well, there might be something in it. And if he can help, I know he will. But I can’t see it’ll make much difference what he got the twelve years for…‘

  ‘Funny—’ She now looked around her while nodding to herself as she said, ‘I’ve never gone more than a few miles from this yard in me life, yet troubles walk in from different quarters of the country; and, when you come to think of it, none of it concerning me. Life’s funny. It is that. All right. All right!’ she yelled towards the impatient customer. Then giving Ben her last words, she said, ‘It was a mistake, you know, startin’ this game. You’re at people’s beck and call from Monday mornin’ till Saturday night, and it’s not me…not my way.’

  Four

  The man did not put in an appearance the next day; nor the day following; and they began to question the probable reason. It was not until the Sunday, and then just as Millie was about to leave the house, escorted by Ben, to attend the Methodists’ Adult Sunday School, that he came.

  When he confronted them in the kitchen he looked different altogether from on his first appearance there: he was wearing a new suit which fitted him; his boots, also, showed a newness; and one could say his manner, too, was new; it was alert and cheery.

  ‘Hello, there,’ he said, addressing Millie. ‘Off some place?’

  ‘I’m…I’m going to Sunday School.’

  ‘Sunday School?’ The words came from high in his throat as if in surprise. Then he said, ‘Oh, well then, this will give me an opportunity to walk with you. It will be like old days. I used to take you out on a Sunday, you know: we would go along by the river at Durham. Ah yes.’ He nodded, as if recalling those happy times. Then looking from Ben to Aggie, he said, ‘I hope I find you well?’

  ‘Well enough, thank you.’ And she added, ‘You seem to have fallen on your feet since your first visit.’

  ‘Well, I said then I was lookin’ for work, and I’ve found it. Anyone can find work if they want to. I knew that years ago, and it still seems to be so.’ And the manner of his speaking was another surprise for Millie.

  Aggie was saying, ‘Well, what’s this marvellous job you’ve got that’s provided you with a new rig-out?’

  ‘Oh, it’s a kind of hotel, eatin’ house. By the way’—he turned quickly to Millie again—‘there’s a concert in one of the main halls in the town. I see it’s well advertised. Up-to-date singers and entertainers, it says. My knowledge of them, of course, is now naturally scanty; but I used to like a concert. How about comin’ along?’

  However, before Millie could answer, Aggie put in, ‘As you’ve just been told, she’s ready to go to Sunday School; so I shouldn’t imagine one of them concerts would fit in. And anyway, she doesn’t go out at night.’

  The man’s whole manner and tone altered as he confronted Aggie again, saying, ‘Well, from what I understand she hardly goes out any time, and she’s going on sixteen years old. You cannot keep her tied up here for life. She is my daughter, and to my mind she should be outside away from here seein’ and being seen.’

  An odd quietness followed on this statement: it was as if they were preparing themselves for a verbal attack. Ben was the first in, crying, ‘See an’ be seen! What the hell d’you mean by that? And where, may I ask, did you get your information about tying her up. The only tyin’ up she’s had is protection from the likes of—’ He swallowed deeply, and instead of adding, ‘you’, he said, ‘scum. And they’re not all to be found among this quarter, let me tell you. See an’ be seen? As for being h
er father, you, mister, have waived any right to that title. What’s more, you have no jurisdiction over her. It’s Mrs Winkowski there whose word goes with regards to her.’

  Ben had used the word jurisdiction. Amid her confused and mixed feelings that were not without fear, Millie felt a certain pride at what he had achieved from his reading and his learning. Then it was as if she were aiming to show her learning, too, when she said, ‘Listen to me, all of you, and particularly you, sir.’ She could never call this man ‘father’. ‘I don’t wish to go out to see or be seen, and I haven’t been restricted by these kind people. I may say I have been lucky to have been brought up in this house and under the protection of Mrs Winkowski. You, sir, were irresponsible enough to do something that caused you to be imprisoned. I can’t see that you could have been concerned about your wife and child, although you tell us it was because of my mother you committed the deed. I remember my mother very clearly. She was a loving person and a gentle creature, and she would not have wished you to go to such lengths in her defence.’

  She felt that last bit to be silly because her mother would not have had an opinion on what her husband should do in her defence.

  ‘Well, well, well! I’m bein’ put in me place. I can see that. My God! After all the years I sat in that stinkin’ cell just countin’ the days when I’d be free and be able to pick up me life again, a family life. Yes, I thought of it as a family life, and this is what it comes to.’ He now pointed his finger accusingly towards Millie. ‘You’ve never given me one kind word or shown me one scrap of sympathy for what I’ve been through. Well, I can tell you now, you’re not a bit like your mother inside. Oh no. To my mind you’re a hard young bugger.’

  ‘We’ll have none of that language, not in my house,’ said Aggie. ‘And now I’ll ask you to get on your way. And when you decide to call again, see that you’re sober. But then I’ll be pleased if I’m not to see your face again.’

  ‘Oh, missis, you’ll see me face again all right. I’m goin’ to take up the case. I might as well tell you I haven’t let the grass grow under me feet this past week. I’ve had a word with a man who knows about this kind of thing. He told me to take the matter to court and she’d be mine until she’s twenty-one.’

  ‘Out!’ Ben’s threatening stance in front of him made the man back two paces; even so, he sneered down at Ben, saying, ‘And what would you do?’

  ‘Have you flat on your back before you know where you are; and that would only be the beginnin’. Take your choice.’

  The man turned towards Millie and in a thick voice he said, ‘You know, I used to sit thinkin’ of the reception I’d get when we met; but never did it strike me it would be like this. This fella here’—he thumbed disdainfully towards Ben—‘has just said “Take your choice”. That’s what the bobbies used to imply in Durham, only they used to say, “Which way d’you want it? Quietly or otherwise?” Well, good day, daughter. We’ll be meetin’ again, and shortly,’ at which he turned from them and walked out; and as if of one mind, Aggie and Millie dropped down on to the settle.

  Aggie was breathing heavily, and she had her hand pressed tight against her side. ‘That man upsets me,’ she said. ‘I’ve never known anyone get under me skin so much, and—’ She reached out and patted Millie’s arm. ‘Don’t worry, me dear,’ she said; ‘you’ll not have to see him if you don’t want to. And you don’t want to, do you?’

  ‘Oh no, Mrs Aggie. I…I’d be happy if I never saw him again. Yet…yet he is my father.’ She now looked towards Ben, adding, ‘I can’t believe that, you know. I keep telling myself he can’t possibly be, yet all the time I know he is, and I feel—’ she paused, then shrugged her body as if throwing something off as she ended, ‘well, ashamed.’

  ‘You’ve nothin’ to be ashamed of. Anyway, if you don’t want to miss half the class we’d better be gettin’ along.’

  ‘I don’t feel like going, Ben.’

  ‘Now, we’re goin’ to have none of that.’ Aggie was pushing her from the settle. ‘It’s the only break you have in the week and you enjoy it. So, go on, get yourself off and away. And once Ben sees you safely inside, he’ll take his usual dander round the town, forgettin’ to mind his own business and pokin’ his nose in here and there.’ She accompanied these last words with a tight smile as she looked towards Ben. ‘So go on; let me see the back of you both. I want a little peace, because, you know, I don’t get much of it in the week.’

  ‘I’m very sorry for you.’ Ben took his cap off the knob of a chair, pulled it on his head, and buttoned up his coat; then with an effort at lightness he grinned at Aggie, saying, ‘Instead of puttin’ your big fat legs up, what about giving them a little exercise and you comin’ along to the Sunday School? It’s for adults, and you’re an adult all right. And you would learn something; and they would an’ all, wouldn’t they?’

  Aggie’s answer took the form of her hand snatching up a tin plate from a shelf to the side of the fireplace and, with an adroit swing, letting it fly at him. But just as adroitly, Ben lifted his hand and caught it, saying, ‘You never could see straight,’ then threw it on the table before pushing Millie towards the door.

  As they walked side by side the disparity in their heights was hardly noticeable, for Millie was a little taller than him; but he was wearing a long overcoat that touched his calves and which made him appear to be just a normal smallish man. They had walked some distance before either spoke; and then it was Millie who asked quietly, ‘What’s going to happen, Ben? What’s going to be the outcome?’

  ‘I’d be a relation of God’s if I knew that, Millie. But there’s one thing I can assure you of: nothin’ I can prevent is goin’ to happen to you. As for him, your so-called father, leave him to me. If he tries any of his tricks, he’ll find himself back in one of them cells.’

  ‘Oh, Ben, don’t say that. It must have been terrible.’

  ‘Aye, it must be terrible for some men if they’re innocent. But I have no pity for them who set out to murder a bloke. And that’s what he must have done. And we haven’t really got the rights of the case; just his version. But, you know, Aggie saw her dear friend.’ He turned towards her, grinning now, and interposed what he was going to say with, ‘I don’t dislike the bloke, it’s just what he stands for, I suppose…Anyway, he’ll do some investigation. An’ then, I hope one day we’ll come by the truth…’

  When they reached the hall, she said, ‘Won’t you come in? It’s just like the night class, except that they sing a couple of hymns.’

  ‘That would be the finishin’ touch to the meetin’ because, you know, I’ve got a voice like a corncrake. No, you go on. I’ll do me usual dander and I’ll be back in ample time to pick you up. Enjoy it, and if you get the chance to ask any questions, put it to them that you’d like to know what happened to the rest of the apples in the Garden of Eden. I hate to think of them all goin’ rotten.’

  She pushed him as she laughed, then turned from him and went into the hall. He then made his way purposefully towards the centre of the old town.

  It was about five o’clock when he brought Millie back into the house. Aggie had prepared a high tea, and after they had eaten and cleared away, they sat round the fire and talked, as they had done over the years. Prior to the baking business, they might have discussed what was happening in the rag and scrap-iron world; or if Ben and Aggie should be on their own, the discussion would be mostly about Millie and her learning and, of course, her future life. But it had become a sort of rule that Ben would never leave them on a Sunday night. He would go to his classes during the week or visit Annie, which visits were becoming rarer, but Sunday night was always for the house, so naturally Aggie showed a little surprise when, about half-past seven, he rose from his chair, saying, ‘I’ll be leavin’ you for a little while. I’m goin’ to take a dander. I want some fresh air; that’s if I can find any roundabouts.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ asked Millie.

  ‘Nowhere in particular; just as I said, a
dander. Want to come with me?’

  ‘No.’ She laughed.

  What surprise Aggie felt she kept to herself. She didn’t even ask him where he was going, but she knew he’d be going somewhere, and not just taking a dander. She had learned that Ben Smith, Jones or Robinson never did anything without it had some meaning, some purpose. So, after Ben had left the house she chatted for a while with Millie until nine o’clock, when Millie went up to bed, and she promised to follow her in a very short while.

  She didn’t. She sat waiting, for she knew when he returned he wouldn’t make for his rooms above the barn but would come to her.

  It was ten o’clock when he knocked on the door and she shambled quickly through the room to let him in.

  Seated opposite to her, he said, ‘Is there any beer left in that jug? I’m as dry as a fish.’ And when she answered, ‘No, I’m sorry; but there’s a drop of gin there,’ he said, ‘Well, you know what I think about gin; but nevertheless, let me have it.’

  She waited until he had drunk the gin; then she said, ‘Well, out with it!’

  ‘I know where that fella’s workin’…Reilly’s Meat House.’

  ‘Reilly’s? You mean…?’

  ‘Aye, Reilly’s, Slim Boswell’s place, where he feeds all his pimps and harlots, and his faggots; all the ladies and gents of the street. They say Big Joe’s got shares in it an’ all. Well, he would, wouldn’t he? ’Cos his lot must have some place to eat.’

  ‘How did you find out?’

  ‘Well, on me dander round, you know, this afternoon, I got talkin’ to one and another. Fred Miller, you know, in the fish market, an’ Randy Croft, he deals with the vegetables. They’re two decent blokes, and I described the fella to them and asked if he had been round there for work. Fred couldn’t place him but Randy did straight away. He said, “I think he’s workin’ at Reilly’s, ’cos he came through here yesterday with one of their suits on. Boswell, give him his due, always dresses his crew decent, male or female.” He laughed; so I laughed with him. But it’s a fact, he is workin’ there…’