Ella lay awake. Shamus’s mother’s bed offered deep comfort, with its feather mattress, but although tired to the bones, she couldn’t sleep.
A creek of floorboards had her sitting up in terror.
The door opened and the flicker of candlelight lit the room. ‘What do you want, Shamus?’
‘I think it is you know the answer to that.’
Ella felt her world leave her. This was the beginning of yet another different life. One she couldn’t fight on her own, destitute and under threat as she was.
‘Come into me bed, Ella. It is a double one that I have.’
Throwing the covers back, Ella found it difficult to shift her bulk from the soft mattress. Shamus came forward and helped her. His actions were gentle, emboldening her to say, ‘I’m not sure that I can . . . I mean, well, it . . .’ Embarrassment overcame her and she couldn’t go on.
‘It will be enough to lie with you, so it will.’
But that didn’t prove to be so, once they were in Shamus’s bed. His hands wandered over her body, even stroking the mound of her stomach, and then finding and caressing her most private part. His lips kissed hers, his tongue probed her mouth and licked her neck. Ella lay still, and nothing of her inner self responded. But afraid to do anything else, she moaned as if she was receiving pleasure.
‘Oh, Ella, I’m for wanting to make you mine. I have to. Turn yourself on your side, me little darling.’
A silent scream filled her as she did as he bade and she felt him lift her nightie and press himself into her. It wasn’t that it was painful, but that it took from her everything she had been. And it took her darling Paulo even further from her, for now he wasn’t even the last man to have done this to her.
It didn’t last long. Though Shamus was gentle in his movements, he quickened and thrust deeper into her within minutes, and then gasped his release. ‘Oh, Ella. Ella, me love.’
Feeling dirty and ashamed, Ella curled up into a ball as best she could. Shamus curled around her, asking her if she was all right; had he hurt her, did she like it, and so on? Each time she reassured him, and was thankful when he finally fell asleep.
The morning came as a shock. Ella hadn’t thought she would fall asleep, but suddenly it was light, and a weak sun was shining through the windows. The curtains were open and Shamus was no longer beside her. As she rubbed her eyes, the sounds of the day came to her. Birds chirping, the odd vehicle passing by and the sound of someone moving about downstairs. Her heart dropped as memory tapped her fully awake. Oh God. Why? Why?
‘So it is awake that you are, me darling. And pretty that you look, with your hair hung loose. Sure, didn’t I love running me fingers through the softness of it last night. Here, I’ve brought you a cup of tea. And while it is that you drink it, I will run you a bath. The water’s piping, so it is.’
Ella looked at him. His bulk filled a large space of the room. He was a giant of a man, who could defy all reason and be so different when dealing with her. As long as she jumped to his tune. The man he was then would be easy to love, but having seen the other side of him, which was never far from the surface, Ella was too afraid of Shamus to feel anything other than loathing.
The tea was welcome, and as she sipped it she tried to make a plan, without giving her mind to what Shamus had done to her in the night, or how she knew her nights would be filled as long as she was with him, for she knew that would undo her. Instead she tried to work out how she would manage to make everyone safe, and yet get away from Shamus’s clutches. It came to her then that she would need help. She could go and see Mr Partridge, the solicitor, but then he would want to do everything legally, and that would mean Shamus would know . . . No, she couldn’t risk it. She had to protect Rowena. Going to the police would be dangerous, as she’d heard many say that the police were paid to do the bidding of Shamus and his mother.
She was trapped.
On the morning of the wedding they travelled to north London. ‘I’m not for wanting anyone seeing us; we will have a proper wedding, and tell the world, when you come home. For now, I just need you to be tied to me in an unbreakable way. I need to know that when you go, you are me wife.’
The ceremony was carried out without ceremony. Words were said, and the registrar – a legal requirement in a Catholic church, as this was – witnessed them signing his book. Once it was done, Shamus gave a roll of notes to him and to the priest and tapped his nose. ‘As arranged, we’ll have nothing said about this. Thank you both for your services.’
Both the priest and the registrar bowed their heads; neither said a word, but both pocketed the money.
That night Shamus wasn’t as gentle with her as he had been, and was demanding of her to do more for him. Ella ended up in tears, and was sore and in pain as she curled up once more, as if to protect herself and her baby. Shamus became angry at this. ‘It is as if you are rejecting me, even though you have been a willing partner. You’re not giving fully of yourself. I’ll excuse this as being a symptom of your condition, but I will be expecting more when you return.’
With this, he turned his back on her and fell asleep. Ella lay awake for a long time. Tomorrow she would leave for Dover. Part of her was dreading the journey, but part of her welcomed the chance to be away from Shamus.
Worn out, Ella stepped from the carriage and went once more into the small hotel in Krakow where she had stayed before. With the heartache that she was suffering, she didn’t feel the same peace that coming ‘home’ had given her the first time.
It was still very early in the morning, so she lay down on the soft bed in the small room that she was allocated. Since Paulo had died, she hadn’t ever felt as desolate and alone as she did at this moment, and although she tried not to cry, her tears flowed as she thought of her reason for being here.
Hours later, she woke from a fitful sleep and went along to the bathroom. It was still only midday, so she made up her mind that she would go to Calek and Abram after having something to eat.
Splashing her swollen face in cold water didn’t help. Her eyes had crusted and were sore. Her hair hung lank and refused even to be tied neatly into a bun. In the end she left a few strands hanging, as her arms ached with the effort it took to try and tame it.
Before going to her sister’s apartment, Ella called in at the bank. In her bag she had details of the account that had been opened for her when she was a child, which she had found amongst Nanny’s papers, but to which she hadn’t paid any attention until now.
After completing her business, Ella directed the driver of the carriage to continue to her sister’s address. This time, while making the journey, she didn’t gaze out of the windows at the Vistula River or enjoy the sights of the busy roads. Instead she clasped her hands in prayer that Calek and Abram would have a change of heart and would help her out of her desperate situation.
There was no such help forthcoming.
‘So, you have come to your senses then? You have put your child and your sick husband before yourself. That is good news.’
‘There is no sick husband now. Paulo passed away on my return. I am alone and destitute. My only option is to go into a workhouse – a kind of poor house where I would receive food in exchange for work, and probably never get out again. I didn’t want that for my child.’
‘Nor for yourself, I shouldn’t wonder. Well, it is of no matter. You will move in here and receive medical attention until you are fit to travel back. Then a sum of money will be made over to you—’
‘I beg your pardon, Calek. You may think you are the one to say how things will be, but you are not. I want a cheque to deposit into my account. I have a Polish bank account. It has been open since I was a child. Today I have presented the bank with all my credentials and had my name changed on the account. Once the cheque is cleared, they will transfer the money to my English bank. That is the only way I am going to conduct this arrangement with you. And I want the cheque to be for at least the equivalent of five thousand pounds. With inflation running absolutely wild here at the moment, that is at least three hundred thousand Polish marka.’
‘That is not possible. With the way our economy has been failing, we shifted the majority of our money into overseas banks and shares, before the worst of the slump. There is a large portion of it in the British bank that used to handle your allowance. I can instruct them to pay the amount you ask into the account they still hold open for you. My solicitor has checked these things out for me, as I wanted to be ready for when you arrived.’
‘You knew I would come back, then?’
‘No. We guessed you would and wanted to be prepared.’
‘Very well. But I want proof that you have transferred the money before I continue with any plans that you have for me.’
‘Just tell me one thing: how did you manage to get over here again?’
‘I went to a moneylender, as I did the last time. Not that it is any of your business.’
Abram walked into the room at that moment. His surprise at seeing her changed his expression from one of extreme worry to pleasure. ‘I hope this means you have come to your senses, Sister-in-law?’
‘It means that I have no choice but to sell my baby to you, although I do so with a deep loathing of myself and of you both.’
‘You have spirit, I will give you that. But, my dear, this is a sacrifice that is as right for you as it is for us and your baby. Your life will change. But don’t expect riches, as everything is going haywire here.’ Turning to Calek, Abram said, ‘We are to lose money again, darling. The marka is losing ground every second. There is talk of bringing back the old zloty and starting the economy afresh.’
‘We won’t discuss our financial business in front of Ella. She has already made her demand, and it is a sum that we can easily afford from our English holdings. I am in agreement, as the deal is beneficial to us, and it means that Ella won’t have the financial means to stay here in Poland.’
When Calek told Abram the amount, he looked very relieved. Ella wished she had asked for more now, but as it was, she had asked for a small fortune, and one that would allow her to carry out the plans that she had. With this amount, she was sure she would be richer than Shamus, and that would give her power.
Ella didn’t let the thought enter her mind that she would not have her child with her, or her resolve would weaken. She would hang on to the hope that one day she would come and reclaim her child, no matter how long it took.
Calek broke into her thoughts. ‘Abram and I have talked about how we would handle everything, if you returned, and have come up with a plan. We are going to tell our friends, and Abram’s family and mine, that you have been diagnosed with a terminal illness and that you have asked us to take care of you in the last weeks of your pregnancy and to look after your child as our own. After the child is born, the story will be that you have gone into a clinic, to spend the last days of your life.’
Ella gasped. The cunning of this half-sister of hers, and the lack of feeling she showed, were incomprehensible to her. But she could see that it was a way of stopping tongues wagging.
Life in her sister’s home, though comfortable, was lonely. Ella had been assigned a room just off the nursery, which would be occupied by a nanny when the baby arrived. Her meals were served to her in a small sitting room adjacent to this. She did not attempt to go into the nursery, as it would have been too painful. For exercise, she wandered around the streets and tried to remember something about her surroundings, but nothing presented itself as familiar, although the feeling of belonging persisted.
As she walked outside, a week after her arrival, intending to get a carriage to the cafe that she’d seen opposite the Vistula River, Ella was stopped by a lady who had come out of the apartment next door.
‘Oh! You must be Kasienka’s little girl. Where did you go to? My husband and I knew your mother – she was a distant relation of mine.’
Ella was overwhelmed. ‘Y – yes, I am. I was brought up by my nanny in England.’
‘Lonia? How is she? I knew her well; she was nanny to me, you know.’
‘I’m sorry, but she is no longer with us.’ Ella told the lady what happened to Nanny.
‘Oh, that is sad. I’m Janah. It is lovely to see you; my friends and I, we have often spoken about you over the years.’ Lowering her voice, she continued, ‘We always thought that woman who became your father’s wife was a nasty piece of work, and when you disappeared, we knew it for a fact.’
As a woman in around her early forties, Janah must have been just a teenager when Ella left for England, and yet she remembered her.
‘Now let me see, you are called Marjella, is that right? You look so like your mother, I would have known you anywhere. I have a picture of her somewhere. Is your husband over with you?’
For the first time Ella had to tell the lie that Calek had conjured up, and she felt as though she was betraying her mother, and her child.
Janah took her hand. ‘I am so sorry. So very sorry.’
‘Thank you. I – I think I will have to go back in, I’m not feeling well enough to walk out after all.’
‘You get back inside then. And I’ll look out those pictures and post them through the door for you tonight.’
‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’
Turning and leaving Janah standing on the pavement, Ella made it inside and shut the door, leaning on it to compose herself before going back into the apartment. Her body felt clammy with sweat. Oh God, to see a picture of my mother. That would be so wonderful and would make her real to me.
When the pictures arrived, Calek was annoyed, to say the least.
‘You needn’t worry, Calek, I have told your lie, so the news of me being here, of my terminal illness and of your wonderful sisterly act in taking my baby will be common knowledge before long.’
Taking the envelope to her room, Ella opened it carefully. The image of the beautiful young woman undid her. Tears flowed down her cheeks: for her mother, who was lost to her; for all that had happened in her life; for her lost child and her unborn child; and for Paulo, and her nanny and Paddy. Her body drained of tears and pain, and she was left feeling cold and empty once more.
Twice Calek had called out her name and begged to be let in, but this had been a private time for Ella, and one during which she came to a certain acceptance. There were only two avenues open to her. One was to end her life; the other was to go forward and try to make the best life she could for herself. Neither would be easy, but she chose the second option. That way, she would stand some chance of being reunited with her child – sometime in the future.
On 16th June, and two weeks later than her own calculations, Ella gave birth to a son.
To her great shock, she wasn’t allowed to see him. He was taken from her the moment he was born. A wet-nurse had been engaged to feed him, and the next day Ella was taken by ambulance to a private hospital. They were kind to her there, but nothing they did could help her. Her heart was splintered.
It would always be so.
Somehow, two weeks after entering the hospital she made the journey back to England, and the first place she went to was to her bank.
The money was all accounted for. As she left, she looked straight ahead. It might be blood-money, but it would be the saving of her and would secure Rowena’s safety, and her family’s, too. That’s what she had to hang on to. That and the thought that, one day, she would fetch her little Paulo, because in her heart that is what Ella had named her lost son.