A Daughter's Secret (3 page)

McAllister, guessing a lot of the thoughts tumbling around in Aggie’s head, said, ‘You have
seen the animals at it, I imagine, but for humans there is pleasure to be had too.’

Aggie’s face was a picture, for she had never heard that before. She looked at McAllister incredulously and he laughed as he pulled her to her feet.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Get your boots and your shawl. It’s time to go home.’

Aggie was loath to bring the evening to an end. It had been a special time with just the two of them, which would probably never happen again.

At the door McAllister took another hefty drink from the flask and offered it to Aggie. ‘Care for a drop?’

Aggie smiled as she shook her head. ‘Daddy gave me a wee sip just the other day and it burned my mouth and my throat, and afterwards it was as if my stomach was on fire. I have no liking for it at all.’

‘You don’t know what you are missing, girl,’ McAllister told her. ‘Still, your loss, sweetheart. Now, I will see you home.’

‘Oh, but really there is no need.’

‘Agnes, the wind would near cut a body in two and the night air is raw and bone-chillingly cold,’ McAllister said firmly. ‘If you will not have a wee drop of poteen to help you cope with that, then you need my arms around you to keep you from freezing altogether.’

Aggie did not protest. She could think of few
things nicer than walking home wrapped in her warmest shawl and cuddled into Bernie McAllister, and she nodded her head happily.

‘I’d like that,’ she said, and they stepped into the night together.

Aggie recalled that walk home many times. She remembered how secure and protected she had felt. McAllister had his arm tight around her so that, despite the bleakness of the night, she felt glowingly warm inside.

He had been telling himself since they’d set out to go easy and have a bit of common sense, but the very nearness of Aggie was making him harden. He knew to touch her was madness. Hadn’t his wife threatened what she would do if ever she found him at it again, after that last time?

And he knew that if they hadn’t had the offer of the grocery store, and been able to flee to Ireland when they had, he’d have more than likely been laid out in a hospital bed, if not on a mortuary slab, as soon as the pregnancy of their neighbour’s daughter had become obvious. He remembered how she had pleaded with him for help and he had promised to think of something, even as they were making plans to leave. He had blamed the
girl for her condition, though, claiming that she had teased him and flirted with him outrageously and that a man was only flesh and blood after all.

He had seen the telltale flush of shame steal over the girl’s face and she had even apologised for leading him on so. He had patted her hand and said she wasn’t to worry her wee head about it any longer; that he would deal with it.

How Philomena found out he never knew, but she had and she was not best pleased. Yet she made plans to leave at once and in the early morning before many were astir. McAllister had a fleeting flash of pity for the young girl left alone to cope, but it was gone in an instant and he had to admit he was relieved to be away out of it.

When Philomena saw this, however, she had snapped, ‘This isn’t being done to save your skin, so never think it. What you did to that young girl was disgusting and my heart goes out to her and the life she will likely have because of you. But I have my own weans to see to. It would not help them if you were dead or crippled, and I know you would be one or the other if we stopped here one moment longer than necessary.’

He knew she was right. He was also well aware that the girl would name him as the father, because if she wouldn’t tell willingly, her father was the sort to beat it out of her. Then he and the son would have come for him. Fear had crawled all through McAllister at that thought. His salvation, in the shape of a grocery shop in
a remote part of Ireland, hadn’t come a moment too soon.

‘I appreciate it,’ McAllister had said to his wife. ‘And I’m sorry.’

‘You’re always sorry,’ Philomena had replied scathingly. ‘And in the end it makes no odds. But I am telling you now, Bernie, I know that that girl was not the first, but she will be the last, for if this ever happens again, that will be the finish of us.’

‘It won’t, I promise.’

‘You’ve promised more times than I have had hot dinners,’ Philomena snapped, ‘but this time think on, because I mean it. Keep your hands to yourself and your prick in your trousers, and we will get along well enough.’

Philomena had meant every word. He remembered that she had kicked up shocking when he had suggested the dancing and music lessons.

‘They have no one to teach them,’ he had told her. ‘Surely you are not for them forgetting their heritage.’

‘It may surprise you to learn that we have a business to run, Bernie McAllister,’ Philomena had said. ‘If you have time and energy enough for this, then I suggest those energies would be better employed the other side of the counter.’

‘It would stifle me, woman,’ McAllister had protested. ‘A man has to have some outlet.’

‘Are you sure you are not up to your old tricks?’

‘For God’s sake, woman, are you crazy or
what? Don’t you think I’ve learned my lesson this time?’

‘I certainly hope so.’

‘Look, I teach the music at the children’s own homes and the dances at the church hall in a group.’

‘Well, yes, I know,’ Philomena conceded.

‘Then trust me.’

And Philomena tried. She knew that Bernie was no model husband. He said the grocery shop bored him, and certainly he was seldom seen behind the counter. He also drank far too much, but all that Philomena could put up with. As the months and then years passed she even told herself that the flight to Ireland had at last seemed to cure him of his taste for young girls, so that when he told her he was selecting two of the older and better dancers for special tuition one evening a week, she had dampened down the suspicion that arose in her. When he said to her, ‘Look, Philomena, I know how you feel, and with reason, but I promise that I will never see either of the girls alone,’ Philomena’s fears abated somewhat.

Then why hadn’t he allowed Aggie to go home that night; even sent word to the house and told her not to bother coming out? He knew why full well. The madness was coming over him again and the blood was coursing through his veins at the nearness of the girl tucked in beside him so tightly he could hear her heartbeat.

When she gave a sigh, snuggled closer and said,

‘I love being here with you like this and I am so grateful for you leaving me home,’ he knew he had lost any shred of reason that might have been attached to him. Overpowering lust had taken its place.

‘How grateful are you?’ he asked Aggie huskily, as he pulled her to a stop and turned her to face him.

She smiled as she said, ‘Lots.’

‘Grateful enough to give me a kiss?’

Aggie hesitated. ‘I’m not sure…’

‘I thought you were grateful,’ McAllister said reprovingly. ‘Fine way to show it. What harm is a kiss between two people who like each other?’

‘Nothing, I suppose,’ Aggie had to admit.

‘Well, then?’ McAllister said, opening his arms wide.

Aggie couldn’t remember the arguments for feeling it wrong to kiss McAllister, especially when she wanted to so much. She went into his arms willingly. This time, though, McAllister prised her mouth open with his tongue while his other hand fumbled underneath her shawl. Aggie was totally startled and a little afraid. She struggled, but even with one arm McAllister held her fast with ease, and the groan she gave of dismay and distaste he thought was one of pleasure.

Then the shawl fell from her shoulders and McAllister’s hand began to caress her breasts.

‘Please, please stop,’ she said when she eventually pulled her mouth away from him and struggled
to free herself. ‘Let me go, Bernie. Please, for God’s sake.’

McAllister took no notice. There would be no stopping him now. His whole body was on fire to taste the delights of Aggie and he was also impatient. When he couldn’t work out how to unfasten her dress, he took hold of the neck and ripped it down the front.

Aggie felt the night air hit her bare skin. She gave a yelp of terror and tried to twist from McAllister’s arms as she cried, ‘Please, Bernie. We can’t do this, really we can’t.’ She felt the tension running all through him and she was desperately frightened. ‘What’s come over you?’

‘You, my darling girl,’ McAllister said. ‘God Almighty, you have bewitched me totally.’

‘Let me go, Bernie. Please! I am begging you,’ Aggie cried.

‘Let you go? No, my darling girl. I am going to show you a good time.’

‘I don’t want it. Really I don’t. I just want to go home.’

‘Don’t give me that,’ McAllister said almost harshly. ‘You want it as much as I do. Why else were you snuggling in so close?’

Aggie was mortified by shame. Had she brought this on herself? ‘I didn’t mean… not this… I meant it just as a friend.’

‘Don’t play the innocent with me,’ McAllister said. ‘You were ripe for it right enough. Almost begging for it, you were.’

Aggie was so frightened she had trouble drawing breath to speak, but she knew she had to make McAllister see he had made a mistake, and with a supreme effort she pulled herself away from him, panting as she faced him. ‘If I did show you that I was willing and all,’ she gasped, ‘then I am heart sorry. I didn’t mean you to think that, but I see that I probably am at fault as well, so shall we say no more about it and I will go on home by myself from here?’

‘Just who are you trying to kid?’ McAllister said. ‘You stand there half naked and say words your whole body is denying. You are so craven with desire you can barely speak.’

‘No,’ Aggie said. ‘I can’t speak because I am so feared.’

McAllister shook his head as he might at a naughty child. ‘It’s not fear you are displaying, but pure carnal lechery, which I am going to satisfy before you and I are much older.’

‘No, Bernie,’ Aggie said, backing away.

‘Ah yes, Bernie, yes,’ McAllister said. He made a grab for her, grasping her so tight she was unable to break free. ‘That is what you will be saying before the night is done.’

He pulled Aggie down to her knees, still clasped tight in his arms, and then pushed her with such force that her head hit the ground with a resounding crack. For a moment or two her senses reeled and McAllister took advantage of that. His hands shot beneath her clothes and he pulled off her
knickers and stockings in one swift movement, and so roughly his fingernails scored deep scratches down her legs.

This brought Aggie to her senses and, though whimpering with fear, she began to fight like a wildcat.

‘So that is the way you want to play, is it?’ McAllister asked almost in amusement, catching hold of Aggie’s flailing arms and pinning them down across her body with one hand.

‘If you don’t let me go, I’ll scream,’ Aggie said fiercely, though even as she said it she wondered what good it would do. The wind would snatch away the sound of any scream, and who would be around to hear it anyway? There were no houses near and few would be abroad at that time of night.

McAllister threw himself on top of her. ‘Scream away then, though I might have something that will take away any desire to struggle at all.’

Aggie looked at him in terror. In all her fifteen years she had never seen a naked man, but she had seen the mating of the animals and so she knew what she was feeling between her legs. ‘Please don’t do this,’ she begged again. ‘Let me go now and I swear on my mother’s life that I will not mention this to a soul.’ Then seeing that had no effect, she said, ‘What of Philomena and the children?’

‘What the bloody hell is it to do with them?’ McAllister asked. ‘Come on, we have prevaricated more than enough,’ he went on irritably. ‘My bloody cock is ready to explode, I can tell you.’

He drew a fresh hip flask of poteen from his pocket as he spoke.

‘I’m not having any of that,’ Aggie said, ‘so don’t think it.’

‘Oh, but you are, bonny girl.’ McAllister lifted the flask to her lips. But Aggie threw her head from side to side so that the dribbles of poteen spilled from her mouth and ran down her neck.

McAllister was furious. He gave Aggie a punch in the face, causing her eyes to go out of focus and her nose to pour with blood, and she cried out in pain and terror.

‘Now look what you have made me do,’ McAllister said. ‘Just because you weren’t being a good girl and doing as you were told. Now open your mouth and swallow this nice and easy, or I will make you swallow it.’

Too frightened not to obey, Aggie opened her mouth a little and McAllister put the flask to her lips again. To make sure she would swallow this time, he held on to her bruised and smarting nose. Aggie gulped at the fiery liquid, feeling it burning her throat as it went down and then hit her stomach like a ball of fire. But far more worrying, the more of the stuff she drank, the less she wanted to fight off the man lying on top of her.

When Aggie’s useless arms fell to the sides of her body and stayed there, McAllister smiled, knowing that now she would be unable to prevent him doing what he wanted. He took the drained bottle away and let his hands trail over her body.

Part of Aggie knew she should protest at this, but she didn’t seem able to. It was as if it was happening to someone else and she was out of her body, looking down on herself. The moan took her by surprise. McAllister heard it and knew she was drunk enough to pose no resistance at all.

When he slipped his hands between her legs and began to caress her, she burned with shame for what she was allowing him to do to her, and she knew she should at least try to protest. She opened her mouth, but what came out made no sense at all and McAllister looked at her and laughed.

‘You are spouting nonsense, bonny girl,’ he said. ‘Just lie back and enjoy it.’

Aggie stared at him. She knew she was wicked because she should be pushing McAllister off and at least attempting to fight, but she seemed unable to, and she was too frightened to enjoy anything.

He entered her forcefully and she gasped as he whispered in her ear, ‘Now, my little wanton, are you not gagging for it?’

Aggie didn’t even try to answer as a sudden, stabbing pain shot through her and she cried out in alarm, but McAllister took no notice and continued to pound into her. Each thrust caused her such discomfort that she bit her lips to prevent herself crying out, afraid of inflaming McAllister’s anger and giving him cause to hurt her further.

When it was all over McAllister said, ‘Jesus Christ, Aggie, but you are wonderful. In fact you
are absolutely bloody marvellous and we’ll take care to repeat that experience very soon.’

The words seeped into Aggie’s addled brain and so did the realisation of what she had done. She knew it was the very worst sin a girl could commit, and she didn’t know how in the world she had allowed it to happen.

She tried to tell McAllister how she felt, but it was as if her brain and her mouth were unconnected, and he just laughed. She beat at him with her fists, but there was no power in the blows and he laughed again. But at least he rolled from on top of her and left Aggie shivering in abject fear and helplessness.

‘Cover yourself up, for Christ’s sake,’ he said almost harshly, pulling her to her feet. ‘Put your shawl around you at least.’

But Aggie seemed incapable of anything. She staggered and would have fallen had he not caught hold of her.

‘For Christ’s sake, get a grip on yourself.’

Aggie said nothing, but stood swaying and staring at McAllister until he picked up the shawl from the ground, saying as he did so, ‘Don’t look at me that way. You wanted it as much as I did and you can’t deny that now, can you?’