Scold's Bridle

He didn't seem to hear her. 'Rupert Brooke died in 1915. A sacrifice of war. He was only twenty-eight, younger than you and me, and he gave his life with all the other millions, whatever country they came from, for the sake of other people's children. And do you know what breaks my heart?' His dark gaze slid away from her, looking into a private hell that only he could see. 'That a man who could write one of the most perfect pieces of poetry about his homeland that has ever been written should have sacrificed himself for the filth that England spawns today.'

'No one's all bad, Jack, and no one's all good. We're just human. The poor kid only wanted to be loved.'

He wiped a weary hand around his jaw. 'I'm not talking about Ruth, Sarah. I'm talking about the men who attacked her. I'm talking about the animal who taught her obedience by shutting her in a van with a group of low- grade scum who raped her one after the other for five hours to break her spirit.' He stared over the fields again. 'Apparently she objected when Hughes told her to start stealing from Mathilda, said she didn't want to do it. So he locked her in the van with his mates who gave her a graphic demonstration of what was going to happen every time she refused. I've had to give my word that I'm not going to repeat this to anyone except you. She is absolutely terrified they're going to find her and do it again, and when I said we should report it to the police I thought she was going to die on me. Hughes told her that if she was ever caught, all she had to do was say the stealing was her idea. As long as she does that and doesn't mention the rape, he'll leave her alone in the future.' His lips thinned. 'But if she talks, he'll send his goons after her to punish her, and he doesn't care how long he has to wait to do it. Police protection won't save her, marriage won't save her. He'll wait for years if he has to, but for every year her punishment is delayed, he'll add another hour to the final ordeal. She'd have to be a quite extraordinary person to talk to the police with a threat like that hanging over her.'

Sarah was too shocked to respond. 'No wonder she was frightened to sleep downstairs,' she said at last.

'She's hardly slept at all for weeks, as far as I can gather. The only way I could get her to take the codeine was to promise again and again that I wouldn't leave the house. She's paranoid about being caught unawares and she's paranoid about the police asking any more questions.'

'But the Sergeant knows there's something,' Sarah warned him. 'He phoned this morning and asked me to try and find out what it was. His word for it was coercion. Hughes must be using coercion, he said, but we can't do much unless we know what sort of coercion it is. Ruth's not the only one it's happened to. They know of at least three others and they think it's only the tip of the iceberg. None of them talk.'

'She's pregnant,' said Jack flatly. 'I said you'd know what to do. JE-SUS!' He threw the fork like a lance into the middle of the lawn, his bellow of rage roaring into the air. 'I-COULD-KILL-THE-FUCKING-BASTARD!'

Sarah put a hand on his arm to calm him. 'How many weeks is she?'

'I don't know,' he said, rubbing his eyes. 'I didn't ask. I wish to God you'd been here. I did my best but I was so damn useless. She needed a woman to talk to, not a clumsy sod who started out by telling her what nice people men are. I gave her a lecture, for Christ's sake, on male decency.'

She hushed him as his voice started to rise again. 'She wouldn't have talked to you if she hadn't felt comfortable with you. How long's she been asleep?'

He looked at his watch. 'A couple of hours.'

'Okay, we'll leave her a little bit longer, then I'll go and see her.' She linked her arm with his. 'I don't suppose you've eaten.'

'No.'

She drew him towards the house. 'Come on then. Things always look worse on an empty stomach.'

'What are we going to do, Sarah?'

'Whatever's best for Ruth.'

'And to hell with all the other wretched girls who get broken in the future?'

'We can only take one step at a time, Jack.' She looked desperately worried.

'O vile, intolerable, not to be endur'd!' Ruth is crying again and it is driving me mad. I simply cannot bear it. I want to take the wretched child and shake her till her teeth rattle, smack her, hit her, anything to stop this petulant whining. My anger never goes away. Even when she's silent, I find myself waiting for her to begin.

It is so unjust when I went through the same thing with Joanna. If she would only show some interest in her daughter, it wouldn't be so bad, but she does everything she can to avoid her. In desperation this morning, I tried to put the scold's bridle on Ruth's head, but Joanna convulsed at the sight of it. I called Hugh Hendry out again and this time he had the sense to prescribe tranquillizers. He said she was overwrought.

Would to God they had had Valium in my day. As always, I had to cope alone...

*12*

DS Cooper's car had barely drawn to a halt in Mill House driveway later that evening when Jack wrenched open the passenger door and folded himself on to the seat. 'Do me a favour, old son, reverse out slowly with as little noise as possible and drive me a mile or two down the road.' He nodded approval as Cooper eased into gear. 'And next time, phone first, there's a good chap.'

Cooper, apparently unconcerned by this somewhat disrespectful behaviour towards an officer of the law, manoeuvred backwards through the gate, pulling the wheel gently to avoid crunching the gravel. 'Doesn't she trust me?' he asked, changing to first gear and driving off in the direction of Fontwell.

'Not you personally. The police. There's a lay-by about half a mile ahead on the right. Pull in there and I'll walk back.'

'Has she said anything?'