Dara

With a heart heavy with sorrow I watched him shuffle to the guard who took him through a stout oak door at the back of the room, and out of my life for ever.

Now that I was left to my own resources the problem of earning a living was uppermost in my mind. Selling some of my clothes and other personal items brought in sufficient money to stock the barrow with an assortment of fruit and vegetables. Pushing the loaded vehicle from Covent Garden to Mart Street just about exhausted me and I had little energy left to shout for trade. All around me were costermongers much more experienced than I. We were in fierce competition to attract people to our stalls. As the day wore on I learnt that owing to my inexperience I had bought at too high a price and, if I was to clear what remained on the barrow, I would have to sell at a loss. By nightfall there was less money in my pocket than I had started with.

The money from selling my personal possessions had to feed three mouths as my two little mud larks were going through a bad patch, unable to find sufficient odds and ends on the riverside to feed them. They would have starved to death without my help. Altogether it was getting to be a desperate situation. When I got down to the last few items that would bring in some money I decided to consult Florrie in the hope that she might come up with an idea that would solve my financial problems.

As I was about to enter 'The Half Moon' tavern a voice from the shadows alongside the door said, 'Dara, I got a message for yer. It's Adam, 'e wants ter see yer. 'E's 'idin' at my place.'

It was the dwarf. At first I thought he was up to one of his usual tricks, then remembering Adam's words at the prison, 'I'm not stayin' 'ere. I'll break aht of 'ere some'ow', I began to wonder; was it possible that he had made an escape from the jail after all?

The dwarf tugged at my skirt. 'Come on. We don't want ter wait arahnd 'ere. Somebody might foller us.'

I still hesitated, unable to make up my mind if the dwarf was speaking the truth, but if Adam was in need of help I ought to get to him as soon as possible. Adam had told me on one occasion when we had been discussing the lecherous little maniac that the dwarf lived behind some empty warehouses. It would be just the sort of place for Adam to make for if he had escaped.

There was urgency and impatience in the dwarfs voice as he stepped away from me. Are yer comin' or aren't yer? P'raps Adam'll believe me now. I told 'im wot a fool 'e was, expecting 'elp from a toffee-nosed sod like you. S'only when yer dahn 'n aht yer find aht 'oo yer real mates are.'

I hesitated no longer. 'Shut your mouth,' I said angrily. 'Take me to Adam.'

To avoid being seen, he led me through darkened, stinking back alleys, stopping from time to time to listen in case someone was following. Convinced that he had been speaking the truth after all and that Adam was anxiously waiting for me, I was in a fever of impatience to get to him as quickly as possible and urged the dwarf to quicken his steps.

The wooden stairway we ascended took us to a jetty jutting out above the swirling waters of the river. Moving cautiously along a gangway to a small building at the very end of the wharf, we came to a door which the dwarf unlocked and pushed open, then made way for me to pass him. I couldn't see a thing as it was pitch black inside.

'Hurry up,' the dwarf whispered. 'I want to get the door shut before I light a candle.'

Treading warily, I moved slowly forward with hands outstretched in case I bumped into something and asked, 'Adam, where are you?'

I had hardly got the words out of my mouth when I was sent sprawling by the weight of the dwarf jumping on my back. We fell face downwards with his arms around my shoulders.

'Don't move,' he said in a hoarse, menacing voice. 'I got a knife at yer froat and I'll cut yer fuckin' 'ead orf if yer move as much as an inch.'

The sharp tip of the knife was pressing into my gullet as he lay astride me. I knew by the sound of his voice he meant every word of his threat and was scared spitless, waiting for what might come next. Terrified that this demented monster who had tricked me into this dark, lonely place might take it into his head to finish me off, there and then, I lay, my whole body paralysed with fear.

He forced me to crawl to a low, iron bed and onto a coarse mattress. He turned me onto my back and said, 'I'm puttin' the knife between me teef where I can get at it quick so lie still or else yer'll get yer bleedin' froat cut.'

Shuddering in fear with the blood pounding through my head, I felt a rope being tied around my wrist, and then jerked tight as he attached it to a corner of the bed; then he did the same with the other arm. He pulled the skirt away from my trembling legs, then tied my ankles to the bottom corners of the bed. I lay spread-eagled, limbs apart and unable to move more than an inch or two.

Scrambling on top of me, he pressed the razor sharp tip of the knife into the tender skin of my throat and loosened the buttons of my blouse. There were screams of terror rising from the whirlwind of my mind which only I could hear, that ended in deep sobs in my throat and left me in a cold sweat. Although I opened my lips at each scream it was only to gulp in more air, breathless with a shuddering which shook my whole body again and again.

Loosening his neckerchief, he forced it between my teeth and tied it in a strong knot at the back of my head. The darkness of the room seemed to cause him no hindrance in his movements.

I could only make muffled sounds of protest as he tore open my shift and pressed his wet, thick lips around my nipples. He went at them as if he was going to eat the tender flesh of my breasts, nibbling with his teeth and making disgusting nasal snuffles.

Getting off the bed he sunk his teeth into the soft rounded flesh of my belly. I gasped and let out a muffled cry of pain.

'That's nuthin' ter wot yer gonna get,' he sniggered as he undressed.

'Yer'll wish yer'd never been born by the time I've finished wiv yer. Nobody knows yer 'ere so when I've 'ad all I want the fuckin' fishes can 'ave yer.'

Climbing on top of me, he attacked my breasts again. His thing was hardening against my belly as his lips and teeth savaged at my nipples. Crouching down between my thighs he got an inch or two of it into my giny then, getting a firm grip on my breasts, pulled himself up until he had got it all inside me. The strain on my breasts was unbearably painful and brought tears to my eyes. No words can express the agony I felt as his fingers dug into the tender skin each time he drew himself up to thrust himself into me. The stench of his sweat filled my nostrils and the spittle from his mouth dribbled onto my chest when his heavy breathing became harsh with lust. I was choking with nausea at the foul indignities he was inflicting on my defenceless body when the pig-like grunts from his slobbering lips quickened and he galumphed to a finish.

Throughout the hours of darkness my body was frequently defiled by his bestial, obscene attacks. I lay awake all night prostrated by grief and a burning humiliation that left a deep scar in my memories for many years.

Some slivers of daylight penetrating the oak boarded walls of the room shortly after dawn awoke the dwarf from his slumbers. Without a word to me he donned his clothes and departed, slamming the door behind him.

Soon after he had left, a storming rage of angry frustration set me struggling with the bonds that tied me to the bed. In a vain attempt to break the ropes around my ankles I gripped the iron bar of the bed and cut one of my fingers on a protruding splinter of metal. Casting my eyes upwards at the slight wound on my finger gave me the notion that if I could get the rope around my right wrist to that sharp point of metal I might, given time, be able to fray the strands of rope fibre and break free.