Knocker passed it on to Tom. ‘’Ere, put this on the cart.’
Tom left the two men together talking in low urgent tones, grateful to slip back into the anonymity of the shadows.
The rag and bone man returned and rapidly pulled some coats and old jumpers out of a bag. ‘’Ere, cover those over the sack. We don’t want any awkward questions asked. Keep your head down and say nothing.’
They walked casually back to the dock-gates, where the same policeman as before was on duty. Tom watched anxiously as Knocker stopped the cart and, picking up one of the coats, walked over to him.
‘Hey, Len. Got a nice bit of stuff ’ere might fit you. You interested?’
‘Get off with you before I run you in for trying to bribe an officer of the law!’
‘Would I do such a thing?’ asked Knocker in an injured tone.
‘Too bloody right you would!’
They cleared the dock-gates without further trouble, Tom breathing freely for the first time since they’d entered the area earlier in the evening.
He was concerned about Dutchy. He must warn Amy that he was around. Lily would be safe from the foreigner’s wrath while she was working, for he wouldn’t be allowed through the doors of the smart Club Valletta. But what if he found out Lily’s home address? Perhaps he’d better go round there later and warn her.
‘You did well, Tom,’ said Knocker, breaking into his thoughts. ‘Kept a cool head. Didn’t panic.’
‘You were pretty cool yourself.’
‘Bit of bluff fools a lot of people, me old flower.’
They headed towards The Ditches.
When Knocker drew up opposite Mrs Cohen’s secondhand shop, Tom looked at it and remembered how he’d first seen Lily there. He pictured her bright eyes, her cheeky smile, her laughter. The memory was painful.
Knocker tapped on the window of Abraham’s pawnbroker’s shop. Then looking around furtively, he rang the bell and waited.
Abraham’s bespectacled face peered out as he lifted the curtain, then he opened the door and beckoned to Knocker to come inside.
Lifting the sack off the cart, the rag and bone man told Tom to push it around the corner and wait for him.
Tom puffed on a cigarette as he waited, contemplating how he was forced to be involved with such matters, just because his foreman had sacked him. He thought of Lily – of Mary – and what a mess he’d made of his life.
Fifteen minutes later his friend joined him, a broad smile on his lips. He handed Tom a five-pound note. ‘Thanks, me old mate. I finally got a good deal after a lot of argy-bargy with that tight-fisted old sod. He’s hard as nails, but I like the old bugger.’
Tom folded the white note and put it in his pocket. ‘That was easy money. Thanks.’
Scratching his chin, his friend said, ‘Yeah, but it isn’t always so. I can do with a man who doesn’t lose his nerve. You interested if I need you again?’
Tom nodded his agreement. After all, what choice did he have? He had to earn every penny he could.
Stopping off at the nearest pub for a well-deserved pint, Tom waited until closing time then made his way to Lily’s house. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer so he leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette. He was too early. Time passed and still he waited until the man next door, returning home from a late shift, asked him what he wanted. Tom told him.
‘You’ll have a long wait, mate,’ the man said. ‘Lily doesn’t come here much these days.’ He winked at Tom. ‘Why would she? She’s living with The Maltese.’
Tom felt the blood drain from his face. For one awful moment he thought he was going to pass out. The man caught hold of his arm. ‘You all right, mate?’ he asked anxiously.
Nodding, Tom held up his hand. ‘Yes, thanks … I’m fine.’
He walked slowly down the street, wiping his forehead with his red neckerchief. How could she do it? He shook his head. Not his Lily. He didn’t believe it. He knew she was singing there, but living with The Maltese … Surely the man was wrong. Then he suddenly remembered the intimate look that had passed between Lily and her companion that night outside the club. He pictured the elegant clothes she was wearing … and he knew.
Amy let herself into her shabby room and sat in an easy chair by the fire. The embers were nearly dead, but she leaned forward and raked them, trying to coax a little flame. Something caught at last and she went to lie back in her chair, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw a movement. Turning, she stifled a cry of terror as she saw Dutchy sitting on the old settee. Although Tom had warned her of his return, she had been vigilant and, as she hadn’t set eyes on him, she had been lured into a feeling of false security.
He leered at her, his gold tooth gleaming. ‘Hello, bitch. Now you don’t run away. Now you stay with me. This time I don’t pay. You owe me for the beating I took. You pay good.’
Amy was stricken with fear; she couldn’t move. Dutchy crossed the room, moving swiftly for such a big man.
‘How did you get in?’ she cried.
He ignored her question. Putting out a hand he grabbed her by the neck. He put his large hand across her mouth to stifle the scream that rose in her throat.
Terrorised, she tried to struggle. She saw the excitement reflected in his eyes.
Taking a knife out of his belt, he laid the cold blade against her cheek. ‘You don’t want to die, do you?’
Fearful that he would cut her she shook her head, slowly.
‘Good. You make one sound – it’ll be your last. Understand?’
She nodded and stared at the Dutchman, mesmerised by the cruel eyes staring right back at her. She saw his tobacco-stained teeth as he grinned with pleasure.
Amy’s heart was thudding so hard she felt it was going to burst. She could hardly breathe. As he removed the knife she felt faint with relief.
Please God don’t let him hurt me
, she prayed as Dutchy began to remove her clothing. The feel of his fingers on her flesh made her feel sick. He removed her coat but he couldn’t undo the buttons on her blouse quickly enough. He sliced the front of the garment open. Amy felt the trickle of blood on her skin.
She began to shake.
She saw him smile as he gazed upon her bare breasts. She flinched as he enclosed one in his enormous hand, squeezing it crudely. His eyes glittered as she gave a cry of pain. He slapped her face.
He pushed her to her knees and opened his trousers. She tried to resist him as he pushed her down on the ground, flat on her back, and wrenched up her clothes, but he was too strong for her. She clawed at him frantically, to get his sweaty hands off her, but when he held the knife to her throat, she lay still.
He laughed as he ripped her undergarments and parted her legs. Thrusting himself inside her, he covered her mouth with his. She felt his hot skin on her face and caught the odour of his bad breath mixed with the taste of stale beer.
She lost consciousness for a moment and was only vaguely aware of the Dutchman getting hastily to his feet before she passed out again. Then sounds began to penetrate the fog around her – a voice; knocking on the front door; and the slamming of a door at the back of the house as her assailant fled.
‘Amy!’ called Tom. ‘Open the door. It’s me, Tom McCann.’ He tried the handle of the door and to his surprise, it opened. Stepping inside he called, ‘Amy! Where are you?’
He waited for an answer but heard instead a sound like an animal in torment. Turning on the light, he saw before him on the floor a figure, huddled in a small ball.
‘Christ! What’s happened, Amy love?’ He rushed over to her, lifting her to a sitting position. It was then he saw that the shredded blouse was soaked with blood and her other clothes were in disarray. She looked at him with a glazed expression in her eyes. ‘Amy!’ he pleaded. ‘Speak to me.’ But she just stared at him vacantly.
Gently picking her up, he placed her in a chair. After a quick search of the downstairs, he raced upstairs, did a lightning check that the place was empty, then pulled a blanket off the bed. He ran back down again, nearly tripping in his haste. Solicitously, he tucked the blanket around the injured woman. ‘I’m going to telephone for an ambulance,’ he told her, and went out into the street.
When he returned, he sat holding her until it arrived.
‘What happened?’ asked the driver, as he stooped beside Amy.
‘I don’t know. I found her like this about twenty minutes ago. She hasn’t spoken since.’
‘We’ll get her to the South Hants Hospital – they’ll take care of her. Can you come along? They’ll need some details – her name and so on.’
Tom nodded. ‘Yes, of course.’
He would have to let Lily know. He was terrified that Dutchy had got to Amy and taken his revenge. If so, Tom would have to sort him out for good and all. Poor Amy. She didn’t deserve to be treated like that. His one worry was that she might not recover. Yes, he’d inform Lily as soon as he could.
Early the next morning, a quiet tap on the bedroom door woke Lily. Slipping out of bed, she ran across the room and opened the door. Outside stood Beatrice, an anxious look on her face.
‘Sorry to wake you, Miss Lily, but there’s a man downstairs asking for you. He says it’s an emergency. His name’s Tom McCann.’
Lily felt her heart constrict. She glanced back at the bed and was relieved to see Vittorio was still fast asleep. Grabbing her black silk dressing gown she put it on as she ran down the stairs in her bare feet. What on earth could have happened to bring Tom here?
He was standing inside the door, cap in hand, looking around the palatial room. When he saw Lily, he walked quickly over to her. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but Amy is in hospital.’
Eyes wide with shock Lily asked, ‘What’s wrong with her?’
He twisted his cap nervously in his hands. ‘I think that Dutchy got to her. I found her in a terrible state last night. She’s in the South Hants Hospital.’
‘Thanks, Tom. I’ll get dressed and go to her.’ She pulled the front of the gown across her breasts and ran her fingers through her tousled hair, suddenly conscious of him seeing her this way.
The actions were not lost on him. ‘I see I got you out of bed.’ There was anger in his eyes as he went on: ‘I didn’t know you lived here until a little while ago. At first I wouldn’t believe it.’ He looked her up and down. ‘I know now it’s true.’
Hearing the bitterness in his tone, Lily was filled with guilt. ‘You’d best go, Tom. Thanks for letting me know.’
He stared at her with such a hurt expression it nearly destroyed her. ‘How could you let
him
touch you!’ He turned on his heel and left the building.
For a moment, she couldn’t move. She was shaken by the news about Dutchy and by seeing Tom inside the club. At last he knew about Vittorio. But first of all, she must think of Amy.
As she returned to the bedroom, Vittorio stirred. ‘What’s going on?’
Knowing he would certainly hear of her early visitor, she said, ‘A friend of mine is in hospital, badly injured. A man came to tell me.’ Opening her wardrobe she said in a choked voice, ‘I must go and see her.’
‘Get George to call you a taxi. Who is this friend?’
‘She’s called Amy.’ She glanced over to Vittorio. ‘She was a good pal to me. She needs my help now.’
He nodded. ‘Do whatever you have to, Lily.’
She was so relieved at his understanding, she leaned over the bed and kissed him. ‘Thank you.’
‘Is there anything I can do?’ he asked.
Shaking her head she said, ‘No. I don’t know too much about it at the moment, except that she’s badly hurt. I’ll let you know more when I’ve been to the hospital.’
When she walked into the ward, Lily was shocked at Amy’s appearance. Her face was swollen and bruised, as was her neck, but the thing that shattered Lily most of all was the vacant expression in Amy’s eyes.
The Matron, on learning that Lily was a close friend and from now on would be taking care of the patient, told her, ‘She has been brutally raped. She’s in shock still. Stay with her, hold her hand. Talk to her. Perhaps you’ll get a response. So far she’s not spoken to anyone.’
To Lily it was like seeing Rachel all over again. But Rachel had recovered. Looking into Amy’s eyes, she was afraid that her friend would never get over this.
Drawing the curtains around the side of the bed she said, ‘Hello, my love, it’s Lily. Tom told me you were here.’ She took one of her friend’s cold hands in hers and stroked it gently. ‘Now, don’t you worry. I’m going to take good care of you.’ Sitting on the bed, she put her arm around Amy’s shoulders and held her, crooning softly.
Lily kept talking to her. Recounting their days together in The Ditches. Relating little stories about Rachel, and the times they had together. She smoothed her forehead, murmuring words of encouragement. She bathed her face, gave her a drink of water. ‘Sorry, darling, there’s no gin in it,’ she said with a smile.
Amy looked up at her, a spark of recognition at last. In a faltering voice she said, ‘Lily. Oh Lily. I’m so pleased to see you.’ The tears welled in Amy’s eyes and she began to cry.
Lily held her tightly until the wracking sobs subsided. Then, wiping Amy’s face, she said, ‘You’ve nothing to worry about now, my love. I’m here, and I’m going to take care of you.’
Amy relaxed in her arms and slept.
The Matron stopped by the bed and with a look of relief said, ‘She looks peaceful at last.’
‘What happens to her now?’ asked Lily.
With a frown the Matron answered, ‘She needs to stay under observation for a while yet. There’s nothing broken, thank goodness. Except perhaps her spirit. The police have been round, but I told them she was too ill to be questioned.’
‘When can she be moved?’ asked Lily anxiously.
‘It’s too early to say yet, my dear. But the fact that she recognised you and spoke – well, that’s a good sign. She’ll need care and understanding when she leaves.’
Looking at the sleeping face of her dearest friend Lily said, ‘She’ll get that, I can promise you.’
Lily stayed with Amy all day. She eventually wakened and took a little sustenance with Lily’s encouragement. ‘Now come on, Amy love. You won’t get better if you don’t take something.’ She spooned into Amy’s mouth a little broth, then waited outside while the doctor attended to the patient.