Ella’s head pounded. Her eyes felt as though something heavy was lying across them. She tried to lift her head, but couldn’t.
Gradually she became aware of her surroundings and knew that she was lying in a bed. But not her own bed. She tried to speak. Wanted to call out and ask where she was, but only a croak came out of her lips.
‘Don’t try to talk, dear, you are in hospital. Your husband brought you in. You had an accident. A car knocked you over, and you are very badly bruised. But no real injuries that we can detect, so your husband will collect you later and take you home. Aren’t you the lucky one, married to such a handsome man with lovely Irish eyes, eh?’
Ella closed her eyes. Lucky? That wasn’t a phrase she would use about much of her life. Tentatively feeling her face, she found that her lips were twice the size they were normally. Her tongue felt sore, and her eyes, she could feel, were swollen to the size of ping-pong balls. As the memory of what happened trickled back to her, dread came with it.
Shamus wouldn’t forget; he would get his revenge somehow. Why had she been so stupid as to carry evidence in her handbag of what she planned to do?
Realizing that she had to be much more cunning, she let her mind wander to her plan, and how she would be able to get to the mailbox after this. I’ll have to find a way – I’ll have to.
‘So it is that you are awake? Sure you gave me a fright there, so you did.’
Through the slit that was all she could see through, Ella looked at Shamus. She wanted to claw him to death.
‘Come on. They say it is that you are well enough to recover at home. I’m glad of that, as this place costs a fortune. It’s two days that you have been here already.’
Two days! I shouldn’t be moved. Two days is a long time to be unconscious!
Once more she tried to speak, but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and her lips wouldn’t move.
A moan came from her as Shamus lifted her. Every part of her body gave her pain.
‘Come on now, it is that you will have to walk. I’ll help you.’
Once off the bed, Ella made an extreme effort. She was going to find it difficult to do anything to help her situation, once back in Shamus’s house, but impossible while she was here. She had to get back to the house and work out how she could contact Rowena.
‘That’s right. You’re fine, so you are. You’re bound to be a bit on the shaky side, isn’t that right, Nurse?’
‘It is. You’ve had a good knock and been sleeping most of the time since you came in.’
Just sleeping? Then I will be fine. But how come I can’t remember anything of my time in here? But then she could remember every detail of the fight she and Shamus had, and he bore some of the scars on his face and neck. Ella allowed herself to feel pleased about this, though the pleasure was tainted with guilt. She’d never willingly be violent; always she’d been the one wanting to heal others. Now, for a second time, she’d lashed out. This shuddered through her, as she thought of kicking out at Jim. No, no, I mustn’t think of that.
The nurse helped her to dress, and Ella found that, as she did so, apart from her head, she had no pain elsewhere, even though she remembered that she’d taken punches to her stomach.
As she stepped outside, after a slow but surprisingly easy walk from the ward, the cool late-September air sent a shiver through her.
‘Come on, me darling – me car’s parked at the pavement over there. We’ll soon have you home.’
When they sat in the car, Shamus tried to take her hand, but Ella snatched it away.
‘We’ll not be for having that attitude now, will we? I’m an inch off showing you that I mean my threats, as I’m sure that whatever it was you were up to involved that black lot.’
Ella sat still and made no further objection to Shamus ministering to her. He tucked a blanket around her knees and stroked her hair. ‘I’ve been for missing you.’
Repulsion at what his tone suggested shuddered through her. I have to get away, I have to.
‘I’ve been busy arranging things for me mammy. She’s to be buried on Friday. It’s been difficult for me, so it has. I’m hoping it is that you are well by then, me darling.’
Ella tried to work out what day it was now. If she’d been in hospital for two days, then it was Monday now, as she’d gone to Rowena on Friday. That gave her four more days. If she could possibly get strong enough by Friday, she would, but she wouldn’t let Shamus know. She’d take a chance on slipping out of the house again, to see if Rowena had written. If she had, thought Ella, then she’d need to go to her bank and arrange the money transfer to the solicitor. Please God, it all works out.
When they reached home, Shamus helped her upstairs. When he tried to undress her, Ella shook him off.
‘Wasn’t I for saying that we’ll have none of that now? We were for having a fight, as all married couples do. We have to be putting it behind us and carry on. You deserved what you got. It was a fair fisticuffs, so it was. You have a left hook that I’m proud of, though you played dirty with that kick.’
His manner was gentle. Ella guessed why. And she didn’t have to wait long to be proven right. As Shamus undid her blouse, she finally found her voice. ‘I’m not up to it.’
‘Sure, you have nothing to do. I’ll be gentle. It’s right that we should make up in this way. I need to, so I do. Just lie back and let me undress you.’
‘Please, Shamus. I – I can’t.’
‘Is it that you are refusing me, your husband that I am? Well, I’m telling you that I’m going to be having you, so stop your protests and lie back.’
The note in his voice, which she’d heard many times, made her do as he bade. He kissed her bruises, and hurt her lips as he pressed his against them – mistaking her moans of pain for those of pleasure. ‘That’s right, me darling, it is that you’re wanting it, too. Oh, me Ella, I love you, and I’ll not be hurting you again.’
Feeling defeated, Ella allowed him to have his way with her. It was as if she was dead inside, since Paulo had last made love to her; but, afraid to do anything other than show pleasure, she went through the motions, hoping it would soon be over.
When it was, Shamus’s attitude changed. ‘You will be telling me what it was that you burned, Ella. There’s nothing as sure as that. I need to know.’
‘It was nothing. You made me angry, so I wanted to taunt you. It was only shopping lists, and bits of notes I’d made as to what we might need. A letter from a friend, that’s all.’
‘And what friend would that be then?’
‘A girl that I met, who was also nursing during the war. She lives in . . . in Belgium.’ Just in time, Ella changed her mind about being truthful. She didn’t want Shamus to know too much about anyone she loved.
He was quiet for a moment. His eyes scrutinized her, but Ella was practised at lying now, and showed no sign that would make him suspect her.
Thinking she’d got away with convincing him, Ella relaxed as Shamus left the bed. She averted her eyes as, still naked, he walked round to her side of the bed. ‘If I’m for finding that you’re lying, I’ll see that you regret it.’
As he left the room, Ella placed her weary, painful head back on the pillow. And though she tried not to cry, a cold tear traced a path down her cheek.
By Thursday morning Ella knew that getting out of going to the funeral was impossible. Though her eyes were not swollen, they were bloodshot and her right one was surrounded by a purplish-black bruise, but they no longer smarted. Her lips were back to normal, and in herself she felt almost as strong as she did before the attack, although she still suffered from a persistent headache, which – thank goodness – had lessened in intensity.
Shamus had brought home a black hat for her, which had a veil attached that covered her face. He said he’d seen it in a shop window and had asked one of his lady tenants to buy it for him. It was a beautiful hat, and one that Ella would have chosen herself and felt proud to wear, but at this moment it represented part of the shackles that held her to Shamus’s bidding.
Yesterday he had returned to work, as he called it, collecting rents and money due to him, which Ella looked on as extorting money from many who could ill afford to pay. She was left alone, though not knowing for how long, because Shamus always called back at the house to drop off what he’d collected, but he’d done so much more frequently recently, making her feel even more of a prisoner.
Restlessly she wandered around the house. Everywhere there was the distinct, unpleasant smell of death hanging in the air, as Shamus had had his mother’s body brought home earlier this morning. Her open coffin lay under the window of the back parlour, a room seldom used, and which housed the very best furniture and was carpeted with a thick Persian rug that almost reached the walls. Mourners, and those who were afraid not to show their faces, would come later to pay their respects, and all would attend the funeral the next day.
Ella finally settled down at the table in the front room. Shamus had told her to begin the job of counting his money and logging the sums into the ledgers, something that usually took place in the evenings, but which he wanted out of the way before the callers began to arrive. As she piled the coins into easily counted amounts, she tried not to think of the people who had been threatened or even beaten up in order to gather it all in.
She’d met some of the desperate people who called at the house frequently, asking for loans; and some begging to be given a little extra time to pay the money back. Unless they came while Shamus was out, Ella wasn’t allowed any interaction with them; and if she did deal with them, she was under strict instructions about what to say. Not that she could ever threaten anyone, let alone the destitute. Instead she would ask them to do all they could to pay at least some small amount back, each time Shamus called. And counsel them that it would be possible to do so, if they would only take one less drink and put less tobacco in their rolled-up cigarettes.
Just as she had most of the coins piled up, a knock on the door startled her. All callers – as they were only of the kind who were connected to Shamus’s business – knew that they had to use the back door. This was a knock on the front door.
Unsure what to do for a moment, Ella rose. The front door led straight into this room and she dared not let anyone in here, with the table covered with piles of money. The knock came again, only more persistent this time. Calling out that she wouldn’t be a moment, Ella rushed to the dresser, grabbed a tablecloth from one of the drawers and covered the money with it.
On opening the door, she was surprised to see a young man of around her own age standing on the step. Tall, with his hair parted in the middle and sleeked down with hair oil, which didn’t disguise that he was blond, he had surprisingly dark eyebrows and brown eyes that usually went with much darker hair. Handsome in a rakish kind of way, he was smartly dressed, which marked him out as different from the usual customer. His voice, when he spoke, told of a well-educated man, as he asked if this was the residence of Shamus McMahon.
‘It is. But he isn’t at home at present. Who shall I say called?’
‘Forgive me, ma’am, but have you been in an accident?’
The unexpected question threw Ella for a moment. It seemed such a bold thing for a stranger to ask, but made the lie of having been hit by a vehicle as she crossed the road easier to tell than having him stare at her, and her stammering to explain.
‘I’m very sorry to hear that, although the injuries you have do not detract from your beauty.’
Ella was even more flummoxed by this. ‘P – please, just state your business, and leave me your name and how you can be contacted, and Mr McMahon will get back to you.’
‘Oh, I was hoping that you might be able to help me. You see, my plight is rather urgent. I owe money to a bounder who fleeced me at cards last night. He said he was returning to collect tonight, and if I didn’t have the money, he would set his cronies onto me – I have been told that he is deadly serious. I don’t have the money to pay him. I’ve never come across this before. I usually write an IOU and honour it as soon as I can, but I don’t mind telling you, I’m scared out of my wits.’
There was something about him that Ella liked and this emboldened her to reprimand him. ‘Well, perhaps you will think better of gambling in the future. Tell me, how did you come to knock on my door? You are not my husband’s usual type of customer.’
‘I was desperate, so I asked around and was told that a moneylender by the name of Shamus McMahon lived here.’
‘Well, you would be better served facing your fate with the hustler than getting into the clutches of Shamus McMahon. I think you should turn around and go back to where you came from.’
‘Please, ma’am. These men are not to be tangled with. I was told that they killed one young man.’
Ella could see that he was genuinely afraid as he said this. And out of the blue, an idea came to her that she could help him; and maybe, just maybe, he could help her, too. ‘What is your name?’
‘Arnold Smith-Palmer. Though everyone calls me Arnie. I’m a law student, in my final year of six long years of study. Years that were interrupted by me having to go to war. I have a monthly allowance from my father, which I have drawn on rather heavily, and Father has clamped down on me drawing from it again this month. He is making me wait until next month, and I daren’t go to him and plead my case. He has threatened to take me out of college and make me work in his shoe factory, if I don’t knuckle down. I can think of nothing more appalling. And yet if he withdraws his support for me, I will have no choice but to do so. So you see, you must help me.’
Ella wanted to laugh, something she hadn’t felt like doing for a long time. ‘Are you trustworthy, Arnie? I mean in a general way, because obviously you’re not when it comes to handling money and obeying your father’s wishes.’
She couldn’t believe how she was engaging with him, but oh, it felt so good to do so.
‘I am, ma’am. And for you, I would go to the ends of the earth, but what is it you want to entrust me with?’
Looking up and down the street and finding it empty, Ella invited him in. Nerves clenched her stomach as she did so.
‘I have a proposition to put to you – a way of earning the money you need, rather than owing it. But you will have to promise me not to breathe a word of it to anyone.’
For a moment Arnie looked nonplussed. His eyes scanned the room before falling on the bulge under the tablecloth. At the same time he took his handkerchief from his pocket and held it over his nose.
‘It’s all right, don’t worry. I’m not going to ask you to murder anyone. The smell is that of my mother-in-law’s dead body – she’s lying in the parlour.’
‘What? Good God!’ The look that passed over Arnie’s face released the laughter that had been bubbling up inside Ella.
‘Oh, I’m sorry. But you did look funny, as if you thought that any minute I was going to kill you.’
Arnie relaxed as she told him that having the body of a loved one in your house the night before they were buried was a widespread practice of the Irish. ‘They will have a wake tonight, with lots of drinking and frivolity, and anecdotes about the deceased. Anyway, what I’m asking of you is to be a kind of courier for me. I’m in need of help. I cannot tell you why, but I need someone to go to a mailbox that I have and bring the contents to me. But all must be done in great secrecy, especially from my husband.’
‘Oh? Well, I can do that, ma’am. That is, as long as it is nothing illegal. Despite what my father thinks, I do take my studies seriously and very much want to become a lawyer. Being involved in anything criminal will thwart that.’
Ella loved the way he spoke; it was as if he had been left over from another era – a time before the Great War.
‘No, it’s nothing illegal, merely messages between me and a friend, and between me and my solicitor. You will be doing me a great service.’ On a whim, Ella told him why. ‘You see, I am here against my will, and these messages will help me to get away.’
‘But that’s terrible. Why can’t you just walk out and leave?’
Ella explained a little; not wanting to frighten Arnie, she told him that she had married in haste, after being smitten by the handsome looks and Irish charm of Shamus, but now she was deeply unhappy and desperate to get away. ‘He would hound me, so I need to leave the country. For that, I have to have everything in place. My solicitor and a friend are helping me, and I have a friend abroad to go to.’ Why she was trusting this young man with this information, she did not know. It was simply the feeling that at last a chance had opened up for her, when she had been so sure that all was lost.
‘Does he treat you badly? You really don’t seem the kind of lady to be married to a moneylender. And, well, your injuries look—’
‘Arnie, I have no time to talk. He may be home any minute. He keeps tabs on me all the time. Please, please say you will help me.’
Ella felt truly sorry to put this on the shoulders of this total stranger, but she had so few options, and he presented himself as a possible saviour of her.
‘I will, of course I will do all that I can.’
‘Thank you. I will write down the address of my mailbox and give you the key.’ As she did this, Ella told him, ‘I’ll also give you a promissory note to take to my bank. They will hand you the amount written on it. How much do you need?’
‘Oh, um, five pounds, please. Thank you.’
‘You lost as much as five pounds on a game of cards? Shame on you, Arnie. You certainly do need to mend your ways.’ It was strange how she felt so at home with him, as if she had known him all her life.
‘I know. I intend to, I promise. And I won’t let you down. I can see that you have been through a lot and are in need of a friend. I will be that friend to you.’
There was a silence when their eyes met. Ella felt a deep connection to Arnie and thanked God for sending him to her. She wished she could ask him to stay a while and get to know him more, but she was already fearful of him being caught here. ‘Hurry now, you must go. I’m afraid that my husband may return at any moment. I’ll show you out of the back door. That is the best way to come to the house, but always check the front street first, to make sure his car isn’t parked there; it is a dark-red Ford. If you do make a mistake and he is in, he will answer the door, so you will just have to repeat the story you told me and make no sign that you know me.’ When they reached the door, Ella caught hold of Arnie’s arm. ‘I don’t know how to thank you. But please be careful.’
Arnie smiled down at her. ‘Smith-Palmer to the rescue, ma’am.’
‘Call me Ella. My name is Ella.’
‘What a lovely name for a lovely lady. I want to know all about you, Ella. Fate has brought us together, but somehow I think it was meant to be.’
Ella stood staring at the door after it had closed. She had the strangest feeling. Part of it was fear, but for the rest, she couldn’t understand at all what had taken hold of her, and held her still. But suddenly fear took precedence over all other feelings, as the realization of what she’d done truly hit home. What was I thinking? Oh God, what have I done? I’ve entrusted the only mailbox key I have – my connection with Rowena – to a complete stranger! And much more, I’ve told him I need to escape Shamus.
After a million prayers of hers going unanswered, Ella prayed once more to God to help her. And it came to her to ask Him to keep Arnie safe, too.