TRAPPED (12 page)

Raising his hand, Max brought it down on his daughter’s face, knocking her over to the side and causing a huge red welt to appear. Maggie scrambled up and headed for the back door. She wasn’t going to stay around for trouble. She’d learnt it was best to run.

The back door was jammed, and Maggie had to pull on it hard, giving her father – who rarely ran after her – time to catch up. Maggie felt a clump of her hair being pulled and on opening the door had to motion her head forward to free his grip.

She slammed the door shut behind her as she ran out, leaving her father on the other side of the red door, still able to hear his words.

‘You cheeky bleedin’ mare. You think you can disobey me and get away with it?’

Her father’s voice was loud and penetrating as Maggie ran into the street. She was terrified he’d choose this occasion to run after her. She glanced around just to check he wasn’t there, that he hadn’t opened the door to follow her out. As she turned back around she abruptly banged into a tall boy roughly of the same age as her. She fell awkwardly onto the pavement as she shouted at the boy.

‘Jesus, look where you’re going will you?’

‘I’m sorry. Are you alright?’

Maggie dusted the dirt off her and stood up to face the boy.

‘I’m covered in dirt, my knees are scratched and I’ve got a blood blister on me hand. So what do you think, Einstein?’

The boy stood watching her, then gently touched Maggie’s face, turning her cheek towards him.

‘And you’ve got a hand mark the size of King Kong’s on yer boat race. You didn’t get that from falling over just now. What happened?’

Embarrassed by the boy’s gentle touch, Maggie pulled away sharply. Annoyed that he expected her to explain herself but more annoyed by the fact it moved her that he could care.

‘Didn’t your mother tell you not to stick your nose into other people’s business?’

‘Yeah, but she also told me you don’t hit women. I might be a nosey parker but I’d rather be nosey than be the person who did this.’

Maggie opened her mouth, about to give him a piece of her mind, when she heard her name being called.

‘Maggie!’

For a moment she’d forgotten about her father. Hearing her name caught her off guard, sending terror jolting through her body. Her body spasmed and she wasn’t able to hide her fear from the boy. He looked at her with concern, then at the back door as they both heard it open. Her name was called again, the sound clearer now that the door had been opened.

‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’

Max’s voice was low and menacing. Maggie tried to compose herself but she felt her throat become tight and her frown become creased as tears threatened to fall.

‘I hope you’re not speaking to her, mate?’

The boy’s voice cut through the air and Maggie looked
at him in shock. She pulled at his arm but he shook her off as
he walked closer to her father.

Maggie watched her father, who seemed as much in shock as she was by the boy’s involvement. However, in a matter of a split second it turned to anger. A thunderous bellow escaped from Max’s lips.

‘I’ll speak to my daughter any way I want.’

‘I’m sorry to be the one to tell you mate, but that ain’t the way life works.’

‘And who the hell are you to tell me anything?’

‘It don’t matter who I am. The question is, did you do this to her?’

‘Hang on, I know who you are.’

Max stepped forward, beside himself with fury as he recognised the boy. He lowered his voice into a whisper as he stood a foot away from the young man.

‘I think you’ve made a very big mistake today, son.’

‘You don’t frighten me. I ain’t a girl to be smacked about.’

Max had had enough. He clenched his hand into a hard fist, ready to do some damage but from the corner of his eye he saw a policeman approaching and thought it was wiser to back down. No doubt he’d catch up with him, then pigs would have to fly to stop him putting his fist down the boy’s throat.

Maggie hadn’t bothered to stay around to see what was going to happen because she knew nothing good could come out of it, although there was a part of her which had enjoyed seeing the brief look of shocked surprise on her father’s face.

Leaning on the wall at the end of
Meard Street
, Maggie got out a box of cigarettes from inside her pocket. Lighting one, she closed her eyes. When she opened them again she jumped slightly to see the boy standing opposite her. He spoke with a big grin, lighting up his handsome face.

‘Ain’t you going to thank me then?’

Maggie blew out the smoke in rings, a trick her brother Nicky had taught her, whilst cocking her head to one side taking in the cheeky smile and the twinkling eyes. Maggie answered, sounding more aggressive than she felt.

‘Thank you for what, mate? Flipping making things worse?’

‘How I see it, things couldn’t get worse.’

‘And what would you bleedin’ know about anything?’

‘Enough to know that your old man’s a frigging nutter and he needs a steel bar taking to his head.’

‘Oh and that’s going to help is it? You’re just as bad as he is.’

She turned on her heel and walked down the street, but felt herself being pushed out of the way as the boy ran
to get
in front of her, blocking her path. Maggie tried to move forward and he continued to face her as he walked
backwards, talkin
g to her.

‘Get out of me way.’

‘I want to talk to you. Listen I’m sorry, I didn’t want to fan any shit between you and your Dad, but he shouldn’t do that. Nobody should.’

The boy put out his hand and stroked her cheek which was throbbing painfully. The touch, so full of warmth and kindness was the trigger to set Maggie off, lifting the lid on her skilfully controlled emotions. She cried, embarrassed that a stranger, that anyone, would see her tears. But she didn’t want to take her eyes off him.

Maggie wanted to see the person who had nothing to gain and no ulterior motive but had stepped in to help her. The realisation that in all her seventeen years this was the first time anyone had looked out for her made her cry all the more.

‘Don’t let anyone do this to you. Come here.’

Without waiting for an answer he pulled her into him. Maggie didn’t resist. She let herself be taken by the moment and allowed herself to be held; wishing it could last forever; until, that was, he spoke and told her his name.

‘My name’s Johnny. Johnny Taylor.’

She pushed him away feeling like she’d been tricked. He was a Taylor. The scum of the earth, according to her father. Her family hated them.
She
hated them, though she wasn’t really sure why. However, she knew the name, and like she’d been brought up to hate the police, she’d been brought up to despise the Taylors. And here she was, in the middle of Soho, falling into his arms as if he was some kind of hero.

‘What did I say?’

He looked hurt. Maggie felt a flicker of shame come over her – nevertheless he was a Taylor, and that’s all that mattered.

‘It’s not what you said. It’s who you are.’

Johnny looked at her puzzled.

‘I know you ain’t some bird I’ve slept with and done a runner on. Frigging hell I would’ve remembered you, cos you’re too beautiful, not to mention too fiery, to forget.’

Maggie blushed, not wanting to find anything to like about him although she did allow herself to be a little flattered.

‘Sleep with you? You should be so lucky. I’ve got more class than that.’

Johnny laughed out an infectious laugh and Maggie struggled not to join in. Wanting to contain her serious composure to show him how she felt about a Taylor.

She turned away towards the cafe in Bateman Street. As the cafe came into sight Johnny ran up by the side of her.

‘I thought I told you to piss off.’

‘No, you never said that.’

‘Well I’m saying it now, piss off.’

‘You don’t mean that.’

‘I’m not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean but if you’re in any doubt let me repeat it again for you, Johnny. Piss off.’

‘Okay, fine. But before I go why don’t you tell me what I’m supposed to have done?’

‘I told you, it’s
who
you are. You’re a Taylor.’

Johnny shrugged his shoulders, still baffled from the sudden turnaround.

‘Do I have to spell it out to you? You’re a Taylor and I’m a Donaldson. Unless you’ve been wrapped up all your life in cotton wool then you and I hate each other.’

Johnny stayed silent for a moment. He thought he’d recognised the man back there but he hadn’t been able to put a name to the face. Many a time he’d had fights with the oldest Donaldson boy but he had no idea he had a sister. And certainly not such a beautiful one.

‘Hate each other. Do we?’

‘Yeah we do.’

‘Well I prefer to make up my own mind who I hate. You don’t strike me as the kind of girl who likes to be told what to do but perhaps I’m wrong.’

Maggie could tell Johnny was goading her but she couldn’t help falling for it. ‘Are you saying I don’t think for myself? Well I do.’

‘If that’s the case tell me why you hate us.’

‘Because …’

Johnny stood watching her and grinned. ‘Because?’

Maggie was perplexed. She’d never questioned why she had to hate them, she’d just accepted it. Now she was being hauled over the coals about it and she’d no idea. ‘Because … because you’re a Taylor.’

It sounded stupid and it was. Which was why Johnny laughed out loud, causing Maggie to become incensed. ‘This is all a joke to you. Well go and find someone else to make fun of.’

Maggie stormed off into Lola’s Cafe, plonking herself down in the tiny booth at the end of the steam-filled teashop. As she sat trying to calm herself down she looked around. It wasn’t busy. There was a couple holding hands sitting at the window table, another at the next table looking far removed from the early throes of love as they sat stony-faced and as usual, there was a small group of builders poring over the back page of the paper, analysing the football results.

‘What can I get you my sweet?’

Lola Harding, the cafe owner came over with a pad to write things down but without the pen, and sat down opposite Maggie.

‘I’ll have anything, Lo.’

‘How about a bit of TLC and advice? Do you want me to get some ice for your face?’

Maggie smiled and touched her face absentmindedly.
She could talk to Lola about anything but at the moment she
didn’t want to. She’d made a fool of herself in front of Johnny Taylor. As much as she knew she shouldn’t care what he thought she couldn’t help it.

‘I’m okay, Lola. You know how life is sometimes.’

‘I bleeding well do. I tell you girl, when I’m in front of those pearly gates, first question I’m going to ask the big fella is; what the fuck was that all about?’

Maggie beamed at Lola. She always managed to make her feel better about herself. There’d never been a time when Lola hadn’t got her to raise a smile.

‘I’ll have a tea please and whatever the young lady’s having.’

Both Lola and Maggie looked up and saw Johnny Taylor, but it was Lola who spoke.

‘Young lady! Bleeding hell, Johnny, I knew my face cream was good but never thought the day would come again when I was mistaken for a young lady.’

‘You still do it for me, Lola.’

Lola cackled.

‘You’ve got the charm of your old man. How is he?’

‘Good thanks, I’ll tell him you were asking after him.’

‘You do that but make sure you leave the bit out that you were with Maggie. Don’t think he’d much care for you two having a Rosie Lee together.’

Lola laughed again, winking at Maggie before leaving them to it. She watched Lola with affection as she walked away. Everyone in Soho knew who Lola was and everyone had something good to say about her. Johnny touched her hand lightly over the table.

‘Maggie, I’m sorry. I wasn’t making fun of you.’

‘I don’t know how you make that out, because there wasn’t anybody else about, so it must’ve been me.’

‘Bloody hell girl, you’ve got more fire in your belly than St. George’s dragon. I ain’t looking for an argument.’

‘No? Well what are you looking for then?’

‘I dunno, but I know I like you.’

‘You don’t know me and I don’t know you. I don’t want to either.’

‘Just give me a chance. Have a cup of tea with me and if at the end of it you don’t want to see me again, I’ll piss off and disappear.’

‘I dunno. It feels so wrong.’

‘What feels wrong, Maggie, is you listening to a person who’ll do this to you.’

Johnny touched her face again and looked into her piercing blue eyes.

‘Just a cup of tea, that’s all I ask.’

Maggie had a cup of tea and when she’d finished it, they ordered another one and another, staying to talk until closing time.

‘Let me take you to the fair in Leicester Square, Maggie.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because my Dad’s going to go crazy.’

‘He’ll go crazy anyway. So why not enjoy yourself first? I’ll get you some candyfloss.’

Johnny winked at Maggie and she laughed. He made her feel alive. Special. And even though she’d known him for less than a few hours, he also made her feel safe. And the feeling of safety was rare in Maggie’s life. In fact, it was almost unheard of.

And that was the moment Maggie thought she’d fallen in love. Fallen in love with Johnny Taylor. The first, the last and the only person who’d ever made her feel safe.

‘Not even a week and she’s got her feet so far under the frigging table they’re hitting bleeding Australia. Bugger me Frank, can’t you book her into a hotel – or better still, into the nearest flippin’ morgue?’

Frankie Taylor looked at his wife and wanted to tell her to shut the fuck up. The last thing he needed, however, was another hour and a half of Gypsy screeching at him; it was getting on his nerves. He’d got used to her soft – albeit expensively trained – voice, and had forgotten what it was like to hear the constant presence of the East End girl. But since the arrival of his sister, Lorna, that’s all he’d heard coming out of Gypsy’s mouth.