The Flower Girl

by Maggie Ford

  They returned home around midnight. There was no sign of Martin. Theo spoke about being weary, though not so weary as not to make love to her before seeking sleep. Afterwards he lay with his back to her while she stared up at the ceiling, fully awake.

  ‘Theo?’

  He gave a faintly irritable grunt.

  ‘I’ve something to tell you,’ she persisted.

  ‘Can it not wait until the morning?’

  ‘No, not really.’

  He turned irascibly to face her. ‘Amelia, we’ve had an exhausting evening at the theatre. And I am not pleased. Martin failed to respond as quickly as I needed during my curtained door illusion.’

  ‘I wasn’t aware of anything wrong,’ she said sulkily, hating the change of subject. ‘Not until you just pointed it out.’

  ‘He will have to improve before our next engagement.’ The next was at the Royal Holborn, virtually their last before the wedding.

  ‘You were sluggish tonight,’ he said, coming more awake. ‘Any slower and they would have seen through my swivel box trick. As for mind-reading, you hesitated far too long with your responses. You unnerved me. A certain hesitation is necessary, but that was ridiculous. Tomorrow we will go over the whole thing, beginning to end. There is no slickness to this act any more.’

  He turned his eyes to her with a suddenness that made her nerves jangle. ‘Is there something making you tired, Amelia? You and Martin?’

  His keen gaze was boring into her, the question full of innuendo and she felt a tiny stab of warning. Praying that the darkness afforded by the thick curtains drawn against the glow of the London street lights wouldn’t let him to see her discomfort, she returned to her initial quest in a frantic rush.

  ‘Theo, I’m going to have a baby.’

  The silence seemed to go on for ever. She couldn’t see his expression but when he finally spoke the tone wasn’t at all as gentle.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I’m having our baby,’ she said, hating the timidity in her voice.

  He sat up sharply. ‘Oh, no, you are not!’

  Stunned, she too sat up. ‘What’re you talking about, darling? I am. I’ve got all the signs. It’s true. I’m not mistaken.’

  ‘You are mistaken.’

  ‘No, love. I haven’t seen for two months, and my body feels different. I was sick yesterday morning, for the first time.’

  ‘No doubt something you have eaten.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I say it is.’

  ‘Theo.’

  ‘I wish to hear no more about it, Amelia. You’re mistaken and I am tired. Go to sleep.’ He lay down, but she wasn’t to be fobbed off. Surely a man would be pleased at such news with the marriage already arranged. It could be brought forward so there’d be no stigma.

  ‘Theo,’ she begged again, and found her plea viciously cut short.

  ‘I am not interested!’ He’d sat upright to lean over her in an almost menacing posture.

  ‘Listen, Amelia.’ His deep voice growled above her. ‘I need to put this to you bluntly. In our profession, with you as my assistant, we cannot deal with a child. I have never had a wish for children and am not prepared to change my mind now.’

  Her protest sounded stupid to her ears, weak and ineffectual. ‘You could train up another assistant as I get …’

  ‘You are my assistant. I want no other. As for this business, I know of a certain person who will be able and willing to help you rid yourself of it. It will be quick and painless. I will arrange it tomorrow. Within a week you will be back to your old self.’

  ‘Rid? Rid myself of it?’ she stammered, appalled and confused. ‘No, Theo, I won’t do that.’

  ‘Then have it!’ He threw himself back down on to his pillow. ‘Leave the act. I will cancel our wedding. You can go off on your own and give birth – on your own. I will have nothing to do with it, or with you. In fact, go now. Leave this bed. Leave this apartment. Pack your things. Take whatever you wish. I shall not lay claim to anything you feel you need to take with you. Whatever you take may help towards the cost of having your baby.’

  So savage were the words that she cringed. ‘I can’t go, Theo. Where would I go?’

  ‘I don’t care where you go. But as long as you keep that thing inside you, you are on your own.’

  ‘But it’s our baby,’ she squeaked in disbelief. ‘Ours. I can’t leave!’

  She found the plea ignored as he continued. ‘And once you have sold what you take away with you, I shall not provide for you, do you understand me?’

  ‘I shall starve.’

  ‘Go to your mother.’

  ‘There’s no room. And I can’t expect her to keep me. She couldn’t afford to.’

  Without what he gave her, there’d be nothing. With Mum unable to pay the rent, losing her home, they be reduced once more to practically begging for their bread, she with a child born out of wedlock and no hope of marriage. Where would she end up? Martin must not hear of her plight. How could she put that burden on him? All this flashed through her head in the seconds it took for her to gasp out those last words.

  ‘Then do as you please,’ came the reply.

  All at once, his tone moderated. ‘Don’t you see, my dear, in a few months you will be bloated and ugly and quite useless as my assistant. I have no intention of finding a replacement. It was you who helped me return to where I am today. Without you I am lost. We complement to each other. If you do as I say, you know you will never want for anything. We’ll marry and your future will be assured.’

  He was gazing intently at her.

  ‘Which do you choose, Amelia, to go back to selling rubbish with a tray around your neck and an illegitimate child at your skirts or to enjoy a life of society with beautiful clothes, fine jewellery, others hanging on your every word – for that is where I intend to go, my dear – and a full life and a secure marriage?’

  He paused for her answer but when none came, he said in a sad voice, ‘What has happened should never have been allowed to happen. How could you have let such a thing occur? It has ruined everything.’

  For a moment Emma couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Anger rose up inside her. How dare he put the onus on her, he who’d always had his fill of her without once exercising the least precaution. It was his duty not hers to see that she didn’t fall pregnant.

  ‘If I were to go,’ she said softly, ‘and you refuse to take on another female assistant, what will you do?’ He had never worked with only Martin, as previously his wife had helped too.

  ‘I shall leave the stage,’ came the unemotional reply. ‘I will not come after you, Amelia, nor see you again, and I shall never forgive you. I shall simply disappear.’

  Such strange words, yet heart-rending. It almost rang of some suicidal intention that made her feel suddenly afraid for him.

  She wanted to say that she wouldn’t be blackmailed into submission. Yet the dreadful choice she was being given took the heart out of her. Once living in the gutter had been all she’d known and had accepted, but she had tasted the wine and honey of fine living, and to return to the dregs of life after that would make it bitter beyond measure. She had to stay. At the same time her breast filled with intense hatred for this man. Faced with these alternatives he’d put before her, what could she do other than comply with his dictates? Even now the full impact of what he was asking of her had not quite hit her.

  It did, however, and with full force, a few days later.

  Emma let Theo help her out of his fine Austin York Landaulette, just as he always did, always the polite one. But this time she was in too much of a daze to support herself, needing to lean on him like one stricken by illness.

  ‘This way, my dear,’ he was saying, taking her arm as he closed the car door behind them. ‘Don’t be afraid. It will be over before you know it.’

  He had dispensed with the chauffeur he often used these days, taking it on himself to drive here. Of course he would. He wouldn’t want peopl
e to know his destination, even to the point of coming here after dark.

  Before them stood a dark, shabby, two-storey building, one of several, hardly discernible in this ill-lit back street, and Emma felt her insides contract. He could have chosen a more salubrious place. He could afford it. But of course, it wasn’t the money that had made him select this place – it was his reputation. He didn’t need this sort of thing being broadcast.

  ‘All you have to do, my dear,’ he said gently, ‘is to relax. When this is over we can resume our life. We will be married in May and I promise I will make you happy. You are a brave girl.’

  She didn’t feel brave as she gazed, mesmerised, at the dingy door in front of her that stood open to the street. With Theo holding her around her waist, his free hand gripping hers and to which she was holding tightly as if she would fall without it, they entered. Inside was a flight of rickety stairs leading up to a second door. That too stood open, and in the light from the room she could see a frowzy, middle-aged woman in a black skirt and blouse. Instinctively, Emma drew back. She felt Theo’s grip instantly tighten around her waist, his grip on her hand strengthen.

  ‘It’s all right. There’s nothing to be frightened of. She is very good. I have checked. I wouldn’t bring you here otherwise.’

  Coming here, she had said not a word to him. Now she found her voice. ‘I can’t, Theo,’ she managed to whisper. ‘I can’t do this. I want to go back home.’

  ‘That’s impossible, my dear,’ came the reply. ‘It’s too late. The money has already been paid.’

  He had made this decision for her, taking no notice of her protests, ignoring her rage when he refused to heed them. Finally she had succumbed in the knowledge that she was indeed trapped. Yet there still remained a spark of her old spirit, but an unreasonable spark, knowing she had nowhere to turn, faced by what would lie in store for her were she to refuse to do as he said. Misery had torn at her very bowels. There had been a mad moment when she had thought of ending it all, of throwing herself from the roof of their apartment block or going off to drown herself in the Serpentine or the Thames, but the instinct for self-preservation had prevailed, and now she was here, hating that cowardice, unable to take her fate into her own hands as she should have.

  Theo was helping her mount the bare, wooden stairs. She could hear their feet scraping the boards. The woman in her sombre dress was coming nearer, her frame seeming to diminish as they mounted higher.

  Emma was aware of unpolished boots peeking out from under the skirt, though why they should be so important she didn’t know, that and the fact that she was smaller than Emma had first imagined.

  They had gained the landing. The woman was reaching out a hand to her. Something inside Emma seemed to snap and she let out a shriek of protest.

  ‘No!’

  Pushing away the outstretched hand ready to draw her into that dreadful room, she wrenched herself free of Theo’s hold, lashing out at him.

  ‘No!’

  With him not holding her, she took a step backwards. Her foot met empty air, then crashed down on the step below taking her off balance. The next thing she knew, with a shriek of terror she was falling backwards, an attempt to clutch at the unsteady banister sending her body tumbling over and over.

  Bruised and battered, she hit the floor with a thud that knocked the breath from her body. The world spinning, she was dimly aware of feet hurrying down towards her, of her head being lifted on to someone’s lap, of a man’s voice saying, ‘My God! I think she’s been knocked out,’ followed by a woman’s voice, sounding impatient, ‘I can’t deal with her now, not like this, you’ll have to take her home.’ And again, ‘My time’s been wasted, I don’t give money back!’ Theo’s voice again, saying, ‘Surely you can give her something. This has to be done. It’s imperative. I’ll pay you double.’

  There came a moment of silence, then, ‘Very well.’

  ‘She won’t feel anything, will she?’

  ‘She won’t know a thing about it,’ came the reply through a fog that seemed to be surrounding Emma.

  There was more movement. Her head was being lifted a little, a spoon being eased between her flaccid lips. She tasted liquid, aromatic yet slightly bitter – laudanum. A second spoonful followed the first, making her choke against it, but despite that, yet another. How many spoonfuls were fed to her she had no idea as she felt herself sinking into that soothing darkness of oblivion.

  When she regained consciousness it was to find herself lying in her own bed. Theo was holding her hand, his eyes gazing down at her, his expression troubled.

  ‘How do you feel, my dear?’ he asked as she focused on him through a drugged haze.

  ‘What happened to me?’ she mumbled wearily.

  He leaned closer. ‘Everything is fine now, my sweetest. You had a fall.’ Yes, she remembered. ‘You were lucky – a few bruises, nothing broken. Being light-framed and supple as you are, you fell lightly, otherwise you might have been seriously hurt. But you lost the child.’

  She stared at him, not quite comprehending. ‘I couldn’t have – not as quickly as that.’ The fall could only have been a few hours ago and even she knew that one wouldn’t lose a baby so soon afterwards.

  ‘Nevertheless,’ he said softly, ‘it is gone. You are as you were. You are no longer pregnant, my dear.’

  Now she remembered, in her half-dazed state, the distinctive taste of that laudanum, not one dose but several, slowly reducing her to jelly, to sink into oblivion. She looked at Theo in horror at what had crept into her mind.

  ‘Did you ….’ It was hard to say it. ‘Did she … that woman … while I was …’ she couldn’t go on. But she saw him bow his head.

  ‘You’ve nothing more to worry about, Amelia. It’s over and you are fine. In a few days you will be on your feet, as right as rain, with this far behind you. Now, you need to rest to regain your strength.’

  He patted her hand and rose to go while she continued to stare at him in shocked disbelief at what she now knew had been done to her while she was without any will to protest.

  Disbelief slowly began to change to cold hatred, hatred that seemed beyond words.

  ‘I’ll leave you to sleep now,’ he was saying, entirely unaware of what was churning in her breast. ‘This has been an ordeal for you, but when you awake you will feel much better. There is a good fire in the grate so you will be quite warm and cosy. Anything you want, just call. Martin and I will not be far away.’

  She didn’t know why she asked except that it seemed imperative. ‘You haven’t told Martin about this?’ She had even managed to keep her voice steady.

  He paused at the door, looking back at her. ‘He knows nothing,’ he said as though this were a conspiracy. ‘I told him you had a slight tumble, nothing more. I said you might also have a slight chill coming on. It’s as well that tomorrow is Sunday, and Monday hardly matters. He and I will manage the act between us. I will reorganise and modify it. Sleep now. We will be in the lounge.’

  Emma blinked as he went out. The act! The bloody act! All that had happened to her, all that had been done to her without her consent, and he could think only of his bloody act!

  For a while she remained staring at the closed door until she became aware of tears trickling from the corner of her eyes, to make rivulets across the bridge of her nose and her temple, wetting the pillow beneath her cheek. Slowly she turned her face into it to muffle the sound of weeping, numbed of all feeling except one: the hatred that remained and, she knew, would remain for ever, dulled maybe by time, but never entirely to leave her.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  ‘How are you feeling, my dearest?’ Theo asked on coming into her room on Tuesday morning.

  He’d slept on the sofa these two nights, allowing her the bed to herself, for which she was deeply glad. Having him next to her would have sickened her. Even now, her hatred awakened at the sight of him, knowing what he had done to her for the sake of his act, his fame, his ambition.

&nbs
p; She pulled herself up on the pillows piled behind her. ‘I feel weak,’ she replied, wanting to say as little as need be to him.

  She was in fact feeling somewhat better. He was right, her suppleness had saved her from worse injury. Her shoulders felt a little stiff, that was all. She was still tender elsewhere, still having to wear a towel, though the blood loss was now a mere brownish staining.

  Lying in bed, her meals brought to her by an attentive Mrs Hart, who was employed to come in to cook and clean, she’d felt a little better by yesterday morning, except that attempting to get up to visit the bathroom she’d been overcome by giddiness, making her sink back on to the bed. No doubt it was because of all this immobility. All she’d done so far was to get out to use the chamber pot, which Mrs Hart quickly covered and carried away to empty, reassuring her, ‘Don’t be embarrassed, pet, I’ve got a bedridden mum what lives with us and I do this for her all the time.’ But her brow had furrowed seeing the stained water with its shreds of red matter.

  ‘I’ve had a very bad period,’ Emma said, which seemed to satisfy Mrs Hart.

  This morning, before anyone was up, she had gone to the bathroom on her own. Ignoring a certain stiffness of limbs, she’d crept along the hallway, holding on to the wall for support, glad to sink down on the polished wooden toilet seat. Creeping back had meant a supreme effort to be quiet in case any sound of her progress alerted Theo. The last thing she’d wanted was having him touch her.

  He sat here now, talking mostly about his concern for his act if she didn’t get on her feet soon, his hand on her forearm gently smoothing the skin. It was all she could do not to pull away.

  ‘I’m tired,’ she sighed, hoping he might take the hint and leave. ‘I’ve not long woken up.’

  ‘Did you have a bad night?’