Lynda La Plante - The Legacy

The lad on top of Rawnie had his head cracked by the bench leg, felt his hair being torn out by the roots, heard a scream like a tiger. Two of the others tried to grab Evelyne; one caught her by the hair, but she was kicking, biting, spitting, and punching with all her strength. The other tried to pull her off his mate and suddenly they all turned, open-mouthed. Light flooded beneath the ring as Freedom, his muscles straining, lifted the platform bodily upwards and tossed it aside.

Jesse took on one of the lads and Freedom, panther-like, moved towards the other three. He grabbed two of them by their necks, bashing their heads together, and knocked out the other with one punch. The boy’s nose split in two and blood streamed down his face.

‘You’re all right now, love, it’s all right, you’re safe, we’ll take you right now, nobody’s going to hurt you any more, it’s all right.’

Evelyne held the terrified, raped and beaten girl in her arms, covering her body with her own jacket. Rawnie moaned and clung to Evelyne like a child, her body heaving as she sobbed. Her small body jerked and shuddered, and Evelyne stroked her hair.

Evelyne talked non-stop, saying anything that came into her mind to try and calm the terrified girl. Wood splintered around them, cries of ‘Fire! Fire! Fire!’ went up. The tent was aflame.

Jesse repeated the cry as smoke began to billow from one side of the tent, the lanterns having fallen when Freedom moved the boxing ring. He called again, but Freedom was searching one of the boy’s pockets. Jesse pulled Freedom’s sleeve, urging him to get out, the police were inside the tent arresting everyone in sight. Freedom still grasped the terrified boy with one hand and shook him, his feet off the ground, until his teeth rattled in his head.

‘Remember me, because I’ll be coming after you, each and every one of you, this is not the end of it.’

Jesse turned and gestured for them to hurry.

‘Bejesus, Freedom, it’ll be us in the clink if you don’t get a move on.’

Freedom picked up Rawnie in one arm as if she were no more than a rag doll, and with his other hand he guided Evelyne out. They kept moving, Evelyne crouching down as she ran along behind a row of chairs. Half of her felt she had no need to flee like a criminal, but the flames were spreading behind her and the boy she had walloped with the bench leg was shouting after them, pointing at her. The smoke billowed back and masked their escape, Jesse slicing through the side of the tent with his knife.

They made it to Rawnie’s wagon and Freedom helped Evelyne aboard. He laid Rawnie gently down, and the wagon jolted off, Jesse whipping up the horse. Evelyne had now lost her hat, her handbag and one shoe, her hair was loose, her stockings laddered and one sleeve was torn right out of her jacket and soaked with Rawnie’s blood.

As the wagon made its way across the fields, keeping off the roads and away from the police, one of the youths was telling a detective sergeant that he had seen with his own eyes an Amazon woman with a sword, and she was beating everybody up. It was she who had given him the bloody nose, he’d not touched a soul. The youth was thrown into a police wagon and taken away to be charged with disorderly conduct. He maintained his innocence in the wagon, still persisted with his story at the police station. There had been this enormous bloody woman, like an Amazon he had seen at the local cinema. She had red hair down to her waist and was screaming like a crazy horse. One of the other boys, with his head cut open, was put into the next cell. He said nothing, but by God he’d remember that wildcat as long as he lived. Nearly broken his skull, she had.

The Amazon sat hunched in the wagon, having no idea where she was going or with whom. She watched as the big fighter they called Freedom rocked the poor girl in his arms. He talked quietly, intimately, close to Rawnie, and his soothing voice and quiet strength calmed her. She lay with her face turned away from Evelyne and began to weep softly, and all the time Freedom talked in a language Evelyne couldn’t understand. She had never seen a man so gentle; it was hard to reconcile him with the fierce man she had seen fighting in the ring.

They travelled for about thirty minutes and then Jesse pulled up the horses. They were by a stream and Rawnie would want to wash. Freedom bent to lift her down.

‘Acoi Rawnie, chies so betie, you’ll wash here you’re so chiklo, an’ Jesse mun, we’ll leave gav, the gav mush will be after us.’

Evelyne did not understand what they were saying. She saw Freedom lift Rawnie in his arms and then Jesse grabbed him.

To Evelyne’s astonishment the men argued, the poor girl between them. Rawnie clung to Freedom’s neck as Jesse tried to pull her out of his arms.

‘She’s ma woman, raped mun, we take revenge.’ Freedom snarled angrily, his voice hissing, ‘Kek, kek.’ Evelyne stood up and hit her head hard on the roof of the wagon. She saw stars before her eyes and slumped down again.

‘Will you stop your arguing, the girl should be washed.’

They carried Rawnie to the water and she was silent, head bowed.

‘Leave her with me, go, the pair of you, and let me help her.’

Jesse gave her a foul, snarling look and Freedom held him back.

‘Thank ye for this, woman.’

Freedom filled a pail with water and placed it beside Evelyne. Then he took off his shirt and ripped it in two, throwing her the pieces to use as washcloths. The two men went back to the wagon, still arguing.

Rawnie sat staring, stunned, and Evelyne wet the cloths and washed the girl’s face and neck, then sat down and eased the girl’s skirt back to wash her thighs, and was horrified. Her legs were crusted with blood and bruised, deep blue and red marks where the boys had forced her thighs apart.

‘Oh God help you, God help you.’

As Evelyne washed her gently, the girl laid her head on Evelyne’s shoulder.

When it was done Evelyne whispered to her that there was no trace left, she was clean. She dried Rawnie with the remainder of Freedom’s shirt and called out that they were ready. It was Jesse who gently scooped Rawnie into his arms and helped her up the wooden steps of the wagon.

Evelyne went to empty the pail of water. Her foot slipped and she ended up standing in the stream. Freedom appeared on the bank and held out his hand to her, and as she reached for it she slid down the bank again, ending up sitting in cold water to her waist. Freedom hauled her out with one jerk of his strong arm, but her new suit was now soaked.

‘Ye’d best come back to camp and dry off by the fires.’

Evelyne hesitated, and he cocked his head to one side and waited. Then she gave a brief nod and was helped aboard. Well, she couldn’t really arrive back at Mrs Pugh’s in this dishevelled condition.

As the wagon rumbled and bumped its way along the rutted lanes, Rawnie sat staring into space, her hands plucking at her brighdy coloured skirt. The bracelets tinkled and jangled, but she stared straight ahead, her beautiful face scratched, her lips puffy and bruised. She was calm now, her eyes impassive and distant. Evelyne supported herself on the wooden frame of the wagon as it jolted and swayed. She tried to remember what she had in her handbag, maybe the return ticket was on the dressing table at Mrs Pugh’s, but she knew in her heart that it wasn’t. How much money? The more she tried to remember the more she felt like weeping. Her lovely hat, oh God, fifteen shillings gone. She sat as far from the fighter as possible, aware that he kept staring at her. She felt no fear, she wasn’t afraid of them, just extremely worried about her purse and the waste of money, bag, hat and shoes. She bit her lip to force back the tears, then felt disgusted with herself — that poor girl raped and all she was worried about was her outfit.