‘Miss Francis… oh… come quickly… up in the attic…’

She hurried up the narrow stairs to the top of the building.

‘Miss Francis…’

She opened the door of the attic; it was dark inside.

She called. ‘Who is it? Where are you? Wait… I’ll get a candle.’

She heard the sound of a key turning in a lock; and there was a chuckle from behind; she was seized in a powerful pair of arms.

She knew immediately. What a fool! she thought. Of course he could imitate one of the girls. He was enough of an actor for that.

‘Dorothy, you idiot,’ said Daly. ‘How long did you think you could say No to me?’

‘Let me go immediately.’

‘All in good time.’

‘Mrs Daly…’

‘Is not in the theatre tonight.’

‘You’re a devil.’

‘I don’t deny it.’

He was laughing as she hit out at him. She shouted and screamed, but he laughed. ‘No one can hear.’

‘I… I’ll kill you.’

‘You can try. Most of them want to smother me with their caresses.’

‘I will never, never do that.’

‘In time you will. Go on. Kick… scream. I like it. It’s a novelty… and it’s all useless.’

She fought until she was exhausted, but he was the stronger. Crying with rage, frustration and shame she was forced to submit to rape.

She crept into her bedroom. Thank God she did not have to share with Hester or Grace for if she had, how could she have kept this hideous secret? Her clothes were torn, her body bruised and battered, and she herself was bitterly humiliated.

She should have known. All that care she had taken in the beginning and then to be lulled into security, and caught like that. She would never forget; she would go on remembering every nauseating second.

And he had laughed triumphantly, knowing all the time that he would win.

What could she do?

Her impulse was to pack and leave. But how could she explain the reason to her mother? She pictured Grace’s terror. It was what she feared would happen to her daughters – only even she had not thought of rape.

I hate him, she thought. He’s a devil.

She wished she could stop thinking of it. The darkness of the attic, the losing battle virtue and decency had fought against brutal and bestial strength.

What chance had she had?

She could not stop thinking of him, brooding on him, hating him and yet… she would not admit it. She was not fascinated by him. She was not one of those silly little girls who were ready to run when he beckoned.

‘I hate him,’ she said aloud.

But what could she do? She took off her clothes and wrapped herself in a dressing gown. She could go into her mother’s room now and say, ‘We are leaving in the morning. I shall never go into Daly’s theatre again.’ She thought of the parts he had given her, playing opposite Kemble, and giving all that up. For what? To start again in England? Where? And who would give her a chance?

Time was what she needed. Time to think about the right course of action.

I have not only myself to consider, she reminded herself.

She saw him the next day and scornfully turned her head away.

‘Don’t be despondent, my dear,’ he said. ‘I’ll arrange another little rape for you very very soon.’

‘You’re loathsome,’ she cried.

‘I know.’

‘I wish I’d never seen you.’

‘My dear Dorothy hates me so vehemently that it’s almost love.’ he said.

She turned away, suppressing a great inclination to burst into tears.

She was careful never to be alone with him; but he was constantly in her thoughts. It must be so, she told herself, because she must be continually on the alert against him.

Once or twice when by some mischance he encountered her alone he would ask her to step up once more to their attic.

‘Never,’ she retorted, ‘and I am in a mind to tell Mrs Daly what has happened.’

‘She would believe you were very willing – in fact that you lured me there, for in common with every other woman in this theatre – including Miss Francis – she has a high opinion of my prowess in love.’

Dorothy turned away. There might be something in that, she had long decided. To have reported what had happened to Mrs Daly could well have meant her dismissal.

He was secretly amused because she had told no one of what had happened. That fact gave him confidence to proceed with his plans.

He ceased to pursue her. In fact he told her that he was sorry he had behaved as he had and he hoped the incident might not impair their friendship.

‘That which never existed could naturally not be impaired,’ she retorted.

And from that day she was no longer offered the best parts. She was not well known enough to insist; she was entirely in his hands; and naturally since she was not playing important parts she could not expect to continue with her salary of three guineas a week. It was promptly cut to two and, she was told ominously, even that was more than the parts warranted.

Grace was bewildered. What had happened? Dorothy had been doing so well. Why had it suddenly been decided that she should be given such silly little parts? Grace began to worry. Were the Dalys displeased? It was difficult to balance the household accounts. Worrying made her ill and it was necessary to incur doctors’ bills. They were in debt.

‘You’re looking scarcely yourself, my dear,’ said Daly one day when she saw him alone. ‘I’m getting concerned about you. Mustn’t lose your bloom, you know. The audiences won’t like it.’

She tried to push past him but he detained her and said gently: ‘I hear that your mother has been ill. Is it doctors’ bills and invalid’s fare?’

‘My mother has been ill,’ she admitted.

‘In debt?’

‘It’s my affair.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong, my dear. My actresses’ good looks are my affair. And I feel guilty. You haven’t been the same since our little adventure. You worry too much. I’m sorry. I was under the impression it was what you wanted. I didn’t understand that you really meant what you said. Dorothy, will you accept a loan?’

She hesitated. She must find the money. And after all why shouldn’t he help?

‘I’d rather have my old parts back with my old salary.’

‘Have the loan first, settle your affairs… and then you’ll be able to concentrate on work.’

‘You owe it to me in any case,’ she said.

‘That’s the spirit. More like the old Dorothy. I’ll lend you a hundred pounds. You can pay me back when you’ve got it. Come to my office tomorrow and I’ll get it all signed and sealed.’

So she did and she paid the bills and she told Grace how kind Mr Daly had been. That cheered Grace considerably. ‘He must think highly of you, Dolly,’ she said. ‘I expect that wife of his is jealous.’

‘Jealous?’ said Dorothy sharply. ‘Why should she be jealous?’

‘Of your success, of course.’

Dorothy sighed. Grace must never know about that frightful scene in the attic.

A few weeks passed. True to his word Daly offered her a better part; her spirits rose. It was going to take a long time to pay off her debt but that would come.

Wherever she went she seemed to see Daly’s eyes upon her. She became alarmed because she knew that it was not true that he had lost his interest in her.

When the ultimatum came she was not unprepared for it. The kind Mr Daly disappeared and there was the rogue, whom she had learned so tragically how to distrust, with another proposition. He wanted her to come to him willingly this time; he had no intention of using physical force.

‘An anti-climax,’ he told her. ‘The first time… that was exhilarating. But we don’t want a repeat performance. I have rented a place for us; we will go there whenever I say and you will be pleased to come, my dear, I promise you.’

‘And I promise you that you can keep your little places for others.’

‘I’ve had a surfeit of others – by no means enough of Dorothy.’

‘You are insufferable.’

‘I know it. And you are fascinating. That is why I must go to such lengths to win you. For you are too cold, my dear. I could never abide frigid women. That’s something we must change – and I think we shall. I have a notion that that experience we shared was not as repulsive to you as you would like to delude me and yourself into believing.’

She turned away, but he caught her arm. ‘Don’t forget you owe me money. I can have you sent to the debtors’ prison.’

The debtors’ prison! The shadow which overhung the poor of every class! The descent into despair from which so often it was impossible to escape. He laughed to see her turn pale.

‘No need to be afraid, my dear. Be kind instead. It’s all I ask.’

‘You promised that you would allow me to pay you back by degrees.’

‘I’ve changed my mind.’

‘But…’

‘I want the money now. Don’t be a fool, Dorothy. You don’t have to pay your debt in cash.’

‘Oh… you are…’

‘Insufferable! You’ve already said it. Don’t repeat yourself, my dear. Shall we say after the theatre tonight? I’ll give you the address. It’s close by. Stop being Miss Prude. It doesn’t become you because you’re not, you know. You were meant to enjoy life and by God you shall. You be there tonight, kind and loving, and I promise you you’ll have no fear of either debtors’ prisons or small parts. You’ll come well out of this, Dorothy, my dear. All you have to remember is that it does not pay to flout the manager.’

He gave her an affectionate little push. He was sure of success.