Hannah massey (27 page)

"To use her own words, she went down before him like warmed snow off a roof. Apparently he was quite open about himself. He was married but his divorce was going through. He was in the property business which fluctuated from time to time. Sometimes he was in the money, he said, and sometimes he was broke. At this' particular time, apparently, he was in the money. He asked her to go to his flat, but it was six weeks before she finally paid her first visit. It was a beautiful place, she said,

furnished with the kind of things you sec in expensive magazines. A month later she gives up her job and moves in. " Hughie pulled the knuckle of his first finger, and there was a sharp cracking sound; then he went on, "He had to be away a lot on business, she said, but when they were together everything was marvelous. The only thing she didn't like was that he had to go to clubs to meet business associates and he always insisted she went with him. She didn't like his business friends, and apparently neither did he, and he apologised for them.

All this time he is piling on her furs, jewellery and expensive

clothes. Then one night he comes home worried. He's in a bit of a

jam, he says, he's got to meet a client who can make or break him.

Will she be nice to the man? They meet this client in a private room in a hotel, and after dinner this fellow of hers is called away and H

she is left alone with this man, who begins to paw her. But. but she manages to push him off and get out of the room. She can't find the other fellow and she goes home. When he turns up he's terribly upset for her. Later in the week he tells her that the client has been

spiteful and has put him in a real fix, in fact he's broke; at least for a time and won't be able to keep up the expensive apartment. Rosie said it didn't matter a jot when it came to pawning her clothes and furs and all the expensive presents he had given her. But by now she was uneasy, yet she really wouldn't face up to why she was uneasy. "

"It's ... it's fantastic," put in Florence.

"Like ... like a novelette. Fancy her being taken in by it... Rosie she seems so all there."

"Be quiet a minute," said Dennis.

"Go on, Hughie."

"Well, she tells him she would take up a job again, but he won't hear of it. Then they move to another flat... one of three in an old house, towards the outskirts of London, and it's in sharp contrast to the luxurious place they have left. The fellow gives Rosie to understand that she has the power to put him back on... on his business feet if she'll only be nice, to the fellows he introduces her to. Even when she knows what these supposedly business associates want she doesn't really connect it with him until she realizes the-girl in the flat above and the one in the flat below are call girls; and not until it's brought home to her that they are both known to this fellow does she face the truth.

And then she is terrified. The fellow now hardly ever goes out, hardly ever leaves her alone. The only time she goes out alone is when she goes to the shops along the street, and then he ^

doles her out the money for food. She has no clothes, only those she stands up in, and he had bought her these. And by now she is so

frightened she does everything without protest. When the other girl upstairs--her name was Ada--hadn't customers she came down and talked to Rosie, and apparently she felt a bit sorry for her. Rosie even

heard her telling the man that he was wasting his time and that she, Rosie, hadn't. hadn't what it took for the game. Eventually, the

fellow seemed to realize this himself but he wasn't going to lose

anything on her. Apparently he did a side line in shipping girls

abroad, and that's what he intended to do with Rosie. It was this girl Ada who gave her the tip that she was to be moved on that Saturday night. "

"God in Heaven!" Dennis looked at Florence's stretched face.

"Can you believe it?" he asked now, and when she just moved her head, he said to Hughie again, "I'm sorry, go on."

"Well, Rosie said when she first met him he had given her a ring, it was an ornate affair and he called it their wedding ring. She thought it was worth about twenty pounds, and he had let her keep it when he took all her other things. As long as we have the ring, he had said, we'll be able to eat. But on the Friday morning, he took it off her hand, seemingly full of regret, and said, " It's the last lap. " And then he asked her would she like to go home because he couldn't see himself ever getting on to his feet again. It was then that she used all the resources in her and played his game and said yes, she would like to go home.

"" We'll see about it the night, the sooner the better," he said, and having, he thought, allayed her fears, he had no hesitation in giving her the money to go and get some shopping. Yet she knew that every move she made was watched by him through the man who sold papers on the other side of the street. When she went into the bedroom for her coat she whipped the ring from his pocket. It was the only way she could think of to get the money to come home. It was either that or go to the police, and she couldn't bear the thought of coming into the open about her position m case the news was transferred to the police here, and the thought of... of her mother hearing of what had happened

terrified her even more than the man. Well she pawned the ring for ten pounds. That was last Friday."

They were all silent for some time; then Florence, rising to her feet, murmured, "It's unbelievable, yet it's happening every day. But you wouldn't think girls would be so gullible now.... And... and Rosie. I say again, she looked so all-there, so selfassured."

"What we've got to remember, Florence," said Hughie, "is that Rosie didn't fall in love with a pimp, she fell in love with a polished, soft-spoken, kind man. She went to live with him because she was

fascinated by him and thought she loved him, and she stayed with him because she really believed he was going downhill and in trouble. The pattern was so simple, it was almost diabolical. And you know what influenced her in the first place?" He looked directly at Dennis.

"She had met him outside a Catholic church. It was a'sort of symbol to her."

"Shades of Hannah Massey," said Dennis pitifully, as he rose to his feet. Then covering the lower half of his face with his hand, he went out of the room.

Florence gazed after him but did not follow him; she got up from the floor and sat down beside Hughie, and pies sing her hands between her knees, she said, "All our philosophising and theorising doesn't mean much when it comes to the push, Hughie, does it? The plastic surgery takes effect whether you like it or not, at least with most of us. I only hope it does with Dennis, I do. I never liked his mother and she always hated me, but then there was no blood between us; but no matter what he says or thinks he still remains part of her, and you can't get away from yourself, can you? That's the one thing no theory can do for you, remove you from yourself. But," she straightened herself, "the one I'm worrying about at the present moment is Rosie. Where do you think she got to in the night? She couldn't wander the streets, she would freeze, or the police would pick her up. D'o you think she would go into any of the neighbours?"

"No, I don't think so, Florence." Hughie was staring across the room.

"And she wasn't at the station; I thought that was the likely place."

"You went to the station?"

"Yes. When I found Dennis and Broderick had left the police station I called on me way back. But it was closed. I never knew they closed it at night. They don't open until the first train at five o'clock."

"It's so hard to take in all at once." Florence looked at H Hughie.

"Her dead, and the four lads in jail, and Rosie God knows where. It doesn't seem as if it could have happened in such a short time... and all because a well-dressed man with a smooth tongue spoke to Rosie outside a Catholic church.... Fantastic, isn't it, that everything began at that point?"

"Oh, I think you can trace it back earlier than that, Florence."

Hughie moved his closed fist over his mouth.

"In fact, you could start at the moment Rosie was born when Hannah determined to make her into a lady, her kind of lady. Or the day

Hannah stopped in the middle of her washing and took her to the typing school. Oh, there are many points where you could start. You could even go back to the day when Hannah was born, or the day when she

landed with her mother from Ireland ... or perhaps the real point from where all this started was the day when she went to work on Brampton Hill. The grandeur of number eight fascinated her and it was her

life's aim to imitate it. But she was a poor mimic was Hannah, she was always a poor mimic." He began to rub one shoulder with his hand as if to smooth away a pain.

Florence stood up now, saying, "Lie down for a couple of hours, Hughie; I'll try to get him to do the same. There's going to be a busy day ahead."

Hughie nodded to her.

"Yes, yes," he said, but when he had the room to himself he began pacing the floor, still rubbing his shoulder. Then as he was about to pass the couch he sat down suddenly on it and, swinging his feet up, he turned his face into the pillow. It was many a long day since he had wanted to cry, but he wanted to cry now. Not for Hannah. No, no, he was no hypocrite. He could say he was glad she was dead. But he

wanted to cry for Rosie who would have to carry her death. All her life till she died she would have to bear the weight of her mother's death. For they would saddle her with it, every one of them.

"If it hadn't been for our Rosie," they would say, "me Ma would've been alive the day." Yet their blame would be nothing to the weight of her own conscience.

And where was she now? Perhaps sitting in some all-night lorry

driver's cafe, or getting a lift south. But wherever she was he had the feeling she was far away and that he Would never see her in his life again.

It was about half past six when Dennis put his head tentatively round the door to ascertain whether Hughie was asleep, and seeing him sitting up on the couch he whispered, "I'm just off to catch the first bus."

Hughie, getting to his feet, said, "Tell your da I'm sorry, and if there's anything I can do later on in the morning, standing bail or anything, he's just got to say, because if the money in the t> drawer is half burnt it'll have to go through the Bank before it's valid

again, you know."

Dennis nodded dully.

"I'll tell him," he said.

"Florence is asleep, I'm letting her lie."

"Yes, let her lie. So long, Dennis."

"So long...."

Florence was still asleep when, at half past eight, a knock came on the door, which, opened by Hughie, revealed two small boys:

"Are you the cobbler, mister?" said the taller of the two.

"Yes, sonny," Hughie nodded at them.

"Well we want wor boots. We've been to the shop umpteen times an' it's shut, an' we went to tother house and it's shut an all. An' we went tother day to the house where you live, an' the wife chased us, but me ma set us back this morning an' the man there told us to come here and tell you."

"Didn't you sec a notice in the window telling you to go next door?"

asked Hughie.

"Aye, we did. Aa told ya. We pummelled that door an' all, but there's ne body their neither."

"Come in, out of the cold," said Hughie, "and wait till I get me things on."

"What is it, Hughie?" Florence came to the bedroom door, blinking the sleep from her eyes as she looked at the boys, and when he explained their visit, she said, "Oh! You'll have to go then. Sure you feel up to it?"

"Yes, I feel perfectly all right."

"What time did Dennis go? I didn't hear him."

"He caught the first bus.... Come on," he said to the two boys as he tucked his scarf inside his coat and pulled on his cap, and together they went out.

"Did you go round the back lane at all?" he asked them.

"Mr. Cullen's got a big yard there, that's where he works. Perhaps that's why he didn't hear you."

"We didn't know there was a back-way," answered the elder boy, "an' the man from farther up said that the joiner was in bed anyway with

rheumatics. But that was just this morning when we was knockin'

again."

In the bus the smaller boy turned up the bottom of his shoe and said,

"Me sole's been lettin' in all week."

"I'm sorry," said Hughie, and he was sorry. He knew he should have written to Lance Briggs, who would have been along like a shot after he had finished at the factory and seen to things, but Lance wouldn't have come on his own, not before this afternoon when it had been arranged he should take over, because he would be too afraid of appearing

pushing.

When they reached the shop he stretched up and felt for the key on the back of the hopper. It surprised him when it wasn't there, and the thought did flash through his mind that perhaps Rosie hadn't been able to reach it. He didn't ask where else she "would have put it but thrust his hand into his jacket pocket and took out a key ring. He had always kept a spare. When he opened the door the boys followed him into the shop and the small one said immediately, " There they are," as he pointed to one of the shelves.

"Oh, your name's Ratcliffe," said Hughie, looking at the ticket on the boots.

"You're Mr. Ratclifie's boys?"

They nodded, and then the younger one put in again, "Me ma's always savin' to me da it's too far to bring mendin', but me da says you're cheaper and better than the Coop."

Hughie was forced to smile.

"That'll be fifteen shillings," he said.

When the boys counted the money out to him he looked down at them and asked, "What would you do with fifteen shillings, eh?"

They screwed up their faces at him.

"I'm leaving the shop," he said, "there's a new man taking over on Monday, but tell your da the work'll be as good and as cheap as ever.

Now here. " He took the ten shilling note and handed it-to the older boy, saying, " Give that ten shillings to your ma and tell her to get something nice for your teas, and split this at ween you. " He then handed him the two two shilling bits and a shilling.