The Other Side of Darkness

By A. Marilyn Tulk

In 1926 Maggie Daley moved to St. John’s, Newfoundland, an island off the coasts of Canada and the United States when she was13, from her hometown of Port Baddec some 250 miles away. She was sent there to go to work as a maid for a rich family; this was a common practice among poor families in the 19th early 20th centuries.

Six years later she is Maggie Scanlon who is married to a man she does not love, with a baby boy she adores. Her husband’s family hates her and the feeling is mutual except for her sister- in-law Gertie, who disappears after taking a job in the states. Maggie misses her only friend and is the only one concerned about her whereabouts, her own family thinking she is enjoying her new life in the states and Maggie should mind her own business. She can’t because she just has a nagging feeling that something about it isn’t right.

Meanwhile a longshoreman has been murdered and no one can figure out why this hardworking, well liked man was killed. Murders are rare in this city and Inspector Victor Clements is determined to find the murderer. All he has to go on is that he is told to look into “stuff going on at the dock.”
When Maggie starts to act strangely, and her son goes missing; everyone is convinced she did it. She finds an ally in Hannah, her other sister-in-law who formerly hated her and together they struggle to find out if she is going crazy and did something with the baby, or is there something else at play here.
These three chilling, spine tingling, intertwined stores race to the conclusion with some twists you won’t see coming.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546270263

A. Marilyn Tulk

This is the second novel of the author, A. Marilyn Tulk. Her first novel Whispering Black can be found on Amazon. She lives in Shea Heights, St. John’s, Newfoundland with her family. Born and raised in her beloved community, city and province of Canada.

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© 2018 A. Marilyn Tulk. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 11/30/2018

ISBN: 978-1-5462-7028-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-7027-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-7026-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018914226

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, locales or other entities is entirely coincidental.

CONTENTS

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty One

Twenty Two

Twenty Three

Twenty Four

Twenty Five

Twenty Six

Twenty Seven

Twenty Eight

Twenty Nine

Thirty

Thirty One

Thirty Two

Thirty Three

Thirty Four

Thirty Five

Thirty Six

Thirty Seven

Thirty Eight

Thirty Nine

Forty

Forty One

Forty Two

Forty Three

Forty Four

Forty Five

Forty Six

Forty Seven

Forty Eight

Forty Nine

Fifty

Fifty One

Fifty Two

Fifty Three

Fifty Four

Fifty Five

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

FOR PAM AND RHODA

I MISS MY GIRLS SO MUCH

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ONE

T he sun was starting to peek its’ head above the low lying fog making for an ethereal view of the narrows, the only entrance to St. John’s harbour, so named because it is a narrow channel between Southside and Signal Hills. Mercedes Barrington could see the narrows through the break between two buildings and she stopped to stare for a minute at the sight. She shivered, pulled her shawl around her shoulders and continued on her way up Water St. pulling her cart behind her. Gonna be a chilly one today, she said to no one. Although it was spring, April in Newfoundland usually brought rain, fog and cold temperatures, sometimes even snow. She was alone at this hour; the streets deserted. She liked this time. She could scour the streets for dropped pennies, bottles, or anything she might be able to sell. She spotted a bottle on the corner and hurriedly pulled her cart towards it. The cart bobbled on the cobblestone street. She picked the bottle up an examined it. It was an unmarked liquor bottle and it was empty. She pulled the cork and put it up to her nose. Whiskey, she said out loud again to no one. Mercedes knew her spirits, not because she partook of them herself, but having been married to a raging alcoholic for 30 years gave her the ability to identify any alcohol by its’ smell. She thought of her late husband and how his drinking had left them destitute, how she struggled to feed and clothe the children, but she did it, only God knows how, and now since they are all gone, the children reared and moved away and Alphonse in the ground since 1925 she made her living selling junk. She smiled to herself. She wasn’t bitter, It is what it is, she again said to herself as she put the bottle in the cart and then continued on her journey pulling her cart down Beck’s Cove, one of the side streets that led to the waterfront.

As she made her way down the alleyway, she spotted what she thought was a bundle of rags lying just off the street against an old fence. As she approached it, she saw a pair of legs and realized there was a person under an old winter coat.

Drunk longshoreman, no doubt, she said out loud as she neared the figure. It wouldn’t be the first time she encountered a man passed out from too much drink.

She stood over the body and gently nudged the leg. No response. Wake up before ya freezes to death, she yelled at the still figure. No response. She decided to pull the coat off the face to see if she knew who he was. She tugged on the sleeve and the coat started to move. Mercedes fell back in horror. She got up and started screaming looking down at the bloody mess that used to be somebody’s head and leaving her cart, she tripped over her own feet and started scrambling on her hands and knees. Looking back over her shoulder she saw an eye laying on the pavement next to the body and everything went dark.

TWO

M aggie opened her eyes and stretched. The room was quiet and dawn’s first light was sneaking through the window as she listened for the sound of the baby again. He began to whimper and she slipped out of bed quietly, so as not to disturb the sleeping form of her husband lying next to her. It wasn’t likely that she’d wake him anyway by the sound of the snoring coming from him. She crept over to the crib next to the bed and picked up the baby before he could cry out loud. Maggie was used to waking at the tiniest sound coming from the crib, partially because of her maternal instincts, but mostly due to what she’d have to endure if the baby woke Jack.

She hugged him to her and scurried down the hall to the kitchen. Although it was spring, it was chilly and drafty in the flat, and she lit the stove before she sat down in the rocking chair next to it to feed Patrick. She quickly untied her nightgown and snuggled him into her breast. He suckled hungrily and she sat back rocking gently and staring at him in wonderment. After the death of her firstborn, Maggie thought she would never recover enough to love another child, but she was in awe of the love and devotion she felt to this child. She was terrified when she got pregnant again, but when he was born the attachment was instant and she never tired of holding him, feeding him, changing him, and whatever else she had to do for him. Every minute spent with him was a joy and she thanked God every day for this beautiful, precious gift.

This time of day is the best, she thought as she sat rocking and humming. No disturbances; no interference from Jack. She knew when Jack got up she’d have to put Patrick down and pretend to ignore him. He told her she spent too much time with him and was spoiling him. He had no time for his son, and barely glanced at him at all and resented the time Maggie spent with him, because it took her away from him. Not that he wanted to spend time with Maggie either, he just wanted to make sure she was there at his beck and call for whatever chore he wanted done. She waited on him hand and foot, was obedient and quiet. She knew the price she had to pay for defiance and now that she had Patrick, she wasn’t taking any chances.

The baby stopped feeding and she lifted him onto her shoulder and started to pat his back gently. She soon got the result she wanted and lowered him down into the crook of her arm and cradled him. He cooed and put one hand in the air. Maggie put her hand next to his and he coiled his tiny fingers around hers. Her heart felt like it was going to burst with love.

Soon the baby was sleeping peacefully, so Maggie laid him carefully in the drawer of the old dresser that stood next to the stove. It was all she had besides the crib and she lined it with warm blankets to make it as comfortable as possible. She hated putting him in there, but he was a content baby and didn’t fuss about it, besides she didn’t want to put him in the room with his father.

Maggie walked over to the stove lifted up the damper and put some more coal and splits inside. Once the fire increased she put the kettle on the damper. She was glad it was Sunday because Jack always slept late and she had time to have a cup of tea before he woke up demanding his breakfast. She wandered over to the window waiting for the kettle to boil, and stared vacantly down at the street below. She noticed her reflection in the glass of the window and reached up and pulled at her hair. She was a wisp of a girl, just barely 5 feet tall and everything about her was small, that is, except for her hair and eyes. Her eyes were enormous pools of deep green. They were usually the first thing people noticed about her, that, and her bright red curly hair. She usually kept it in a tight braid wrapped around her head because Jack wanted her to cut it; he thought it would look better in the flapper style, but when she let it down, the curls went everywhere, in her eyes, down her back and everywhere else curls can bounce. She was actually very beautiful but Maggie didn’t think so. As a girl growing up around the bay, she was considered the plain one. Her sister Beatrice was the pretty one; that’s what everybody always said. And Jack certainly reinforces the feeling every chance he gets.

Jack. Her face tightened as she thought about her husband. When they had encountered each other at the butcher’s two and a half years ago, she was sent there by the mansion’s housekeeper who started assigning her other duties. She was Maggie Daley then and she could tell her was a lot older than her. She was barely 17 and he looked, she thought about 30. He was tall and handsome with dark wavy hair, and his blue eyes sparkled when he laughed. He kept smiling at her as she placed her order and when she picked up her package he followed her out of the market. Maggie walked quickly, knowing he was behind her and when she got to the corner she paused to cross the street and looked around but he was gone. Maggie was relieved, but before she could move, he jumped out from the corner of a building and Maggie shrieked.and ran the rest of the way home. Soon she started seeing him everywhere she went. One time he followed her home and grabbed her arm just as she was turning into the driveway. She struggled to get away. He was laughing at her. What’s your name princess? Mine is Jack, Jack Scanlon. She pulled her arm free and ran up to the house. Home for her was a 6 by 8 foot room in the attic of the mansion owned by the Baxter Family. She had been pulled out of school and placed into service by her parents at the age of 13. Seems like an eternity ago, since she was sent away from home in1926 to scrub and clean up the house of one of the richest families in the city, she started as a downstairs maid, washing dishes, washing clothes with the washboard and cleaning silver. Over the years her duties changed, she became an upstairs maid, dusting, washing floors and cleaning fireplaces. The job that she enjoyed the most was working the ballroom. The family held balls for different occasions during the year and she got to put on the special uniform and serve guests drinks and various fancy foods. She loved seeing the beautiful ball gowns the women wore and the sound of the music and watching them dance. She worked there for four years. Four years without seeing her family at all. Of course she made some friends among the staff, but she felt totally abandoned and alone.

This was a common practice for poor families around the bay during those times though not as much as the previous century. Her wages were sent home each month to help support the rest of the family. All Maggie got was room and board and twenty-five cents a week. She got a one day off a week which she usually spent sleeping because she worked 12 hours a day but sometimes she would go to a picture show with the other girls or buy a treat, but she was saving her money for when she turned 18. Her plan was to get her own flat and get a job in one of the shops downtown. She had no plans to move home. They didn’t care about her, so she decided that she didn’t care about them anymore. Little did she know that the plans for her life would be taken out of her hands.

The boiling kettle broke her away from her thoughts. She walked over to the stove and poured the water into the teapot, added a couple of spoonfuls of tea and set it down to steep. She wasn’t expecting Jack to be up soon, he had come in really late last night and he made a godawful racket in the kitchen. Maggie pretended she was asleep, like she always did, so he’d leave her alone. She hated it when he came home drunk and crawled all over her. It was bad enough to do it when he was sober. Thank God he went out a lot.

She was startled by a knocking on the door. When she got up and opened it, in barged Hannah, Jack’s sister, who lived down the road. She was the oldest of the family at age 30, two years older than Jack, although she looked years older She had married at age 15 and now had five children, ranging in ages from 14 to 8. Her husband, Frank Fleming was a quiet man, who more or less stayed out of his wife’s way, probably because she was a bossy, rude, mean woman and Maggie didn’t like her at all. She put up with her because of Jack.

Hannah strode over to the stove and lifted the teapot. Oh good, the tea is steeped. She took a cup out of the cupboard and poured herself a cup of tea. Got any milk?

Maggie went to the pantry and brought out a tin of milk. Since the Great Depression came in, milk was scarce. Money was scarce too, since Jack only worked part-time at the dock now. He spent most of his money elsewhere, Maggie didn’t know on what or whom, but she knew he didn’t bring it home. He managed to pay the rent and the electricity most of the time, but there was always precious little to eat in the house, but Maggie was an excellent cook and she could make delicious meals out of very little. She had learned from her grandmother. Her Gran would stand Maggie on a chair when she was about four and explain everything she was doing and teaching her how to bake, or cook step by step. First thing was to make sure you have all the ingredients measured out and ready to use. Maggie would stand on a chair and watch while she filled cups, bowls and spoons. She would explain what the ingredients were and how they were to be used such as whipped, folded or stirred. Maggie went from watching, to measuring to finally baking the cakes, pies, cookies or cooking whole meals by herself by the time she was ten.

Hannah was eyeing the tin of milk. Where’d ya get that?

I bought it yesterday. Maggie couldn’t wait to have a cup of tea with milk in it. It had been ages since they had any milk in the house.

She put the milk on the table and Hannah grabbed it and poured a large amount in her tea and added three teaspoonfuls of sugar. She sat back and gulped the tea down. Maggie added milk and sugar, not as much as Hannah, and sipped at hers. It tasted like heaven.

Jack not up yet? Hannah asked looking around.

No, he got in real late last night. Maggie didn’t like making small talk with this woman and only answered her questions minimally.

Yeah, he’s workin’ real hard these days. Hannah put her brother on a pedestal and adored him.

Yes, was all Maggie could say.

Didja hear the good news! Hannah sat up straight now, an excited look on her face.

What news? Maggie wasn’t interested in anything Hannah had to say. It was usually gossip about the people on the street.

"Gertie got a job in the states. She’s goin’ to work for a