by Anna King
‘Any work going, Guv’nor?’
The landlord of the Four Feathers looked disdainfully at the poorly-dressed dirty young girl standing in front of him before shaking his head. ‘Sorry, love, I’m fully staffed. Try down at the Nag’s Head.’
When no response came, he shrugged his shoulders and went to serve one of his customers. This was the third time she’d been in this week, but by the looks of her she wouldn’t be bothering him for much longer; she looked as if she could snuff it at any moment. Pity – underneath all that dirt she could be a real looker. Well, it wasn’t his problem, there were always the streets, but he doubted she would get many customers in her condition. Out of the corner of his eye he watched her leave the pub and breathed a sigh of relief. People like her were bad for business. ‘Yes, sir, and what can I get you?’
* * *
Lily stumbled out onto the pavement, her eyes blurred with tears. That had been her last chance. She’d been in all the pubs this side of London, there was nowhere else for her to go. Her footsteps dragging, she made her way back to the tenement building. This would be her last night, as the rent man had warned her that if no rent was forthcoming tomorrow, she would have to clear out. Where she would go tomorrow she didn’t know, and what’s more she didn’t care, not any more. She dragged herself up the stairs, pushed open her door and staggered over to the bed. Throwing herself down on the dirty-smelling sheets, she began to cry; deep heart-wrenching sobs that racked her frail body. She was going to die – she was only seventeen – but she was going to die alone and frightened in this dirty little room, and when she was gone, there wasn’t a single person in the world who would miss her or mourn for her. She had no money, no job, and tomorrow she would have no home. When she could cry no more, she turned over on her back and stared at the bug-infested ceiling.
She couldn’t believe that just a few months earlier she had been so happy, so full of optimism for the future. She’d had her job at the pub and she’d had Jack. When Mr Chadwick had told them he and the family would be leaving the pub, she had been overjoyed at the prospect of getting a new employer, someone who wouldn’t treat her like dirt. She had been sorry to say goodbye to Mrs Chadwick and the two boys, but not to see the back of him. She had asked Daisy to let her know how Ruby got on, but of course she never expected to hear from her again. They lived in a different world now, a world she would never know or be a part of.
The new Guv’nor, Cyril Jackson, had turned out to be a small oily individual, a man who never tired of trying to get her into dark corners for a quick feel, despite her angry protests. Things had come to a head when his missus had caught them out in the yard. He had been trying it on as usual and she had been struggling to get him off her. Mrs Jackson, a stout woman as unpleasant as her husband, had ordered her from the pub and Lily had been only too happy to leave, confident that she would get another job the next day, but it hadn’t been that easy. Word had been passed along the pub grapevine that she was a trouble-maker, and the landlords had closed ranks.
It hadn’t been so bad at first with Jack bringing round pies and bottles of ale after he finished his shift at the pub. When he’d asked if he could move in with her, she had gratefully agreed, especially as he’d undertaken to pay the rent until she got fixed up. Wearily she closed her eyes. She had really thought that Jack had loved her and had envisaged wedding bells, whereas he had still looked on her as a companion, someone he could have a laugh and a joke with, nothing more. She could see him now, standing here in this room, his face smiling, expecting her to be pleased at his sudden stroke of good fortune. An old aunt whom he hadn’t seen for years had died and left him £50. She’d watched silently as he’d packed his few belongings, all the while chattering excitedly as he told her his plans. Off to see the world, he’d said, his round face alight with excitement, with no word or thought as to how she’d manage without his support. But that wasn’t quite true: he had given her £5 to tide her over until she found a job. She had managed to keep smiling until the door had closed behind him for the last time, before collapsing on the floor in grief and despair. Maybe, if she’d told him about the baby she was carrying, he would have stayed – Jack wasn’t the type of man who would desert his own child – but she had said nothing, merely wished him luck and sent him on his way. The money he had left her had soon run out and she had walked the streets looking for work. Pubs, shops and factories, the story had been the same: they were all fully staffed. There were always the streets, but she could never have brought herself to that level. Maybe if she hadn’t lost the baby, lost it right here in this room, maybe the child would have given her something to strive for, a reason to keep on trying, a reason to live.
She had relived that night in her mind every day since it had happened. The sudden cramps before the agonising pains had hit her, bringing her to her knees. In desperation she had clamped her hands over her stomach, as if by this action she could prevent the unborn child from leaving her body. She had watched in horror as the lifeblood of her baby had seeped from her womb over her shaking fingers. The scream she had emitted had brought no running of feet, no offers of help from her neighbours. How she had endured that terrible night, she didn’t know. For days afterwards she had lain on her bed, still clothed in the blood-soaked dress, too weak to clean herself or try to get help. Finally, when the hunger pangs had become too hard to ignore, she had dragged herself once more out on to the streets for one last desperate search for work, but it was over now. The only place left to her was the workhouse, and she doubted whether even they would take her in in her condition: you were fed and clothed only if you could work for your keep. The only thing left to do was to lie down and wait for death to come. Turning over on her stomach, she finally slept.
* * *
Daisy emerged from the King’s Arms, the place she had once called home, a bemused look on her face. She had expected to walk in and find Lily behind the bar; what she would have said to her she didn’t know – she had planned to play it by ear – but now her carefully-laid plans were blown. The new owner, a smarmy little man, had told her importantly that he’d had to sack Lily on account of her laziness. Daisy had resisted the temptation to call the man a liar and had swept grandly out, leaving the customers staring curiously after her.
Once out on the pavement, she looked wildly around, at a loss for what to do next. She knew where Lily lived, but she couldn’t go there, could she? Perhaps she was entertaining a gentleman. Immediately Daisy felt her cheeks redden with shame at the thought: Lily wasn’t like that. Maybe it was she herself who had changed? Did she think she was superior now that she lived in a nice house in pleasant surroundings with servants to wait on her? She couldn’t believe that she had once lived here in this street, alongside these people who now frightened and repelled her. ‘Well, you did, and pleased to have a roof over your head! So don’t start coming the grand madam now; it doesn’t suit you,’ her inner voice rebuked her sharply.
Her eyes strayed towards the tenement where, as far as she knew, Lily still lived. Well, she could only ask, couldn’t she, and once she had done that, she could go home with a clear conscience. Now that she was actually here, the whole idea seemed utterly hopeless. Lily must have another job by now. How could she think that a lively happy-go-lucky person such as Lily would throw away her job in a noisy friendly pub to come and work as maid to a crippled child? Furthermore, could anyone who knew Lily picture her in a maid’s uniform going about her duties quietly and bending her knee to visitors? To them, the whole idea would be laughable! Still, she was here now, so she must pluck up courage to enter that grim building and enquire after her former employee. Straightening her back, she jutted her chin out and marched towards the tenement.
Carefully stepping over the two drunks huddled in the doorway, Daisy picked her way through the piles of rubbish and filth that littered what passed for a hallway. Holding her handkerchief to her nose, she grimly made her way up the rickety planks that served for stairs, noticin
g the rags and papers that covered the smashed windows, the paper that hung in strips from the peeling walls, her eyes growing wider as she beheld the terrible sights. Dear God, how could anyone live in a place like this? she asked herself silently. If Lily did indeed live here, how could she take her home with her? What did they really know about the girl, except that she was cheerful and hardworking? Blast you, Ruby, and more fool me for agreeing to come here! Inching her way along the darkened corridor, she came to an open door.
‘Excuse me, is there anyone at home?’ she called out hesitantly, and jumped back fearfully as a woman appeared in the open doorway.
‘What d’ya want, ducks?’ the woman asked, showing black rotten stumps in her grin.
Daisy recoiled from the odour that was wafting from the woman. Lord, she stank! Then, taking a deep breath, she said, ‘I’m looking for a girl called Lily Watkins. Does she still live here by any chance?’ She was acutely aware of the fear in her voice and tried to keep it steady. It wouldn’t do for the woman to know just how afraid and vulnerable she was feeling.
‘Lily. Lily, you say? Now what would a fine gentlewoman like you be wanting with the likes of ’er?’ the old crone cackled loudly.
‘That is my business!’ Daisy licked her lips nervously while at the same time backing away.
‘Don’t be so ’oity toity, ducks! If it’s Lily you wants, she’s three doors down – that’s if she ’asn’t gone to the Bastille. Not seen ’ide nor ’air of’er for days.’
About to walk away, Daisy stopped and turned back, her face screwed up in bewilderment. ‘The Bastille?’ she asked, thinking she had misheard the woman.
‘That’s right, ducks. Not from round ’ere, are you? The workhouse is what you’d know it by, and that’s where your friend’s ’eading if she ain’t already popped ’er clogs.’ Then the door was shut rudely in Daisy’s face.
Deeply troubled, Daisy continued down the hall. Upon reaching the third door down she hesitated before knocking, then brought her fist sharply on the peeling panelled door, calling out clearly, ‘Lily, are you in there? It’s Daisy Chadwick, I’ve come to see how you’re getting on.’
The inaneness of her words echoed in her ears. Aware of other doors opening and the curious gazes, she took her courage in both hands and pushed open the door, only to come to a full stop at the sight of the young girl lying motionless on the filthy bed. Adopting the attitude she always did when distressed, she raised her hand to her mouth, biting down on her knuckles. What was she to do now? She couldn’t just walk away and leave her, but if Lily were dead, or seriously ill, what could she do then? Oh dear, what a predicament to land herself in! But she was here, and it had taken courage she didn’t know she possessed to get her this far. She wasn’t running away now.
Striding over to the bed, she gingerly touched the thin shoulder. ‘Lily? Lily, it’s Daisy Chadwick. You remember me, surely? Lily, dear, are you ill?’
Lily heard the familiar voice and closed her eyes again. She must be in a worse state than she’d thought. Fancy thinking that Mrs Chadwick would come to this hole to find her! When the white-lace-gloved hand started to wipe the hair from her brow, she opened her eyes warily. One of the girls had been found knifed in her bed a couple of years back, and they still hadn’t found out who’d done it. On recognising the smiling face of Daisy bending over her, her eyes widened in disbelief. It wasn’t a dream then; she was really here, but why?
Before Daisy could say anything else, Lily flung her arms round Daisy’s waist, her sad tale bursting from her trembling lips in a torrent of woe. Forcing herself to sit on the grimy bed, Daisy pulled her into her arms and listened silently. When Lily came to the part about the baby, she gripped her hand tightly, feeling the tears come into her own eyes. The poor girl, to lose a child in that way, alone and frightened! The pain she must have endured didn’t bear thinking about. She would like to bet that this was the first real cry she’d had since that awful night. Looking round the bare, dark, dirty room, Daisy shuddered. Well, the decision had been made for her. She couldn’t leave her here. She wouldn’t leave a stray dog in this hovel! When she got up, her foot came into contact with something soft, and, lifting her skirt, she let out a scream at the sight of the large black rat that lay at her feet.
‘Oh, Mrs Chadwick, it’s all right, it’s dead. I killed it a couple of days ago. It’s all right, it can’t hurt you.’ Lily was babbling fearfully, now desperate to keep Daisy with her for as long as possible, for the minute she walked out of this room her last chance to live would vanish. Weak with hunger, she suddenly bent over in agony as the cramps hit her stomach.
Still shuddering with revulsion, Daisy spoke sharply. ‘Quickly, Lily, get your things together; I’m taking you home with me. You’ll be looked after, but quickly, dear. I won’t breathe easily until we’re out of this place.’
Lily looked at her in wonderment, unable to believe her ears before saying, shamefaced, ‘I don’t have anyfink to pack. It’s all in the pawn. I even ’ad to pawn me knife and fork to buy food. Everyfink’s gone. I never ’ad much, but what I did ’ave is gorn.’
Ignoring Lily’s woeful tone, Daisy bundled her from the room in her anxiety to be gone and within minutes they were in the street. Daisy raised her face to the sun, thankful to have escaped from the grimy building in one piece. Tucking Lily’s arm through hers, she marched her down the street, looking for a cab. Conscious that the girl beside her was in a bad way, she went so far as to shout after one that was disappearing down the road. Bernard would have been horrified to hear her yell, ‘Hey you, cabbie, wait a minute, please!’ but this was no time for niceties. Soon they were seated in the comfortable interior, and patting Lily’s hand reassuringly, Daisy settled back, her eyes closed in relief that they were on their way home.
* * *
Two hours later Daisy was lying in a steaming hot bath, having told Mary the maid to burn the clothes she’d come home in, along with Lily’s. Even now, lying in the clean soapy water, she still felt dirty, as though the squalor of the tenement had permeated the very pores of her skin. When she rang the bell, it brought Mary running in with a large towel for her mistress to wrap herself in.
‘How is Lily, Mary? Has she been given a bath and something to eat?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Mary answered, her head averted from Daisy’s gaze.
‘What is it, Mary? Are you annoyed about Lily being here? If so, there is no need to worry. Your job is safe for as long as you want it. Lily has come to help look after Miss Ruby and she won’t interfere with any of your duties,’ Daisy told the flushed girl kindly.
‘It’s not that, ma’am.’
‘Well, what is it, girl? Speak up,’ Daisy replied while taking a quick look at the clock on the mantelpiece. Bernard would be home in less than an hour, and she wanted Lily to be bathed and dressed in one of her old gowns before he returned. If he had seen them when they had come home, he would have been horrified.
She could still see the startled look on Mary’s face when she’d opened the door to the pair of them. Having had neither the time nor the patience to explain the situation to the open-mouthed maid, she had simply asked her to fetch Mrs Mason, the cook, to help take care of Lily, and told her to fill a bath for the girl as quickly as possible. While she waited for Mary to speak, Daisy reflected ruefully that she still couldn’t get used to being waited on, but it wasn’t as if the house was teeming with servants. Apart from Mary, there were two undermaids for the heavy work, the cook, and the gardener who came in twice a week. There had been two stable-boys, but Bernard had dismissed them after he had sold his father’s two horses. He could no longer bear to have a horse near him for any length of time, and instead of the smart carriage he had been so proud to ride in, he now used either the train to get to work, or he walked.
By some standards, theirs would be considered a small household, but it suited her. Although they weren’t rich like some of Bernard’s new friends, they were comfortable and, more important
, Bernard was happy in his new position. Under the expert guidance of his father’s old business associates, he had quickly stepped into his father’s shoes, although, by his own admission, it would be many a long year before he developed the razor-sharp judgment of his father but he was content to continue taking advice until he could take over the reins himself.
‘Ma’am!’ Mary’s voice brought Daisy back to the present. ‘Ma’am, it’s Miss Maybury. She’s proper put out about Lily sleeping in Miss Ruby’s bed, and Miss Ruby said that Lily is going to have her lessons with her from now on.’ Mary’s face was flushed with excitement.
Pulling her dressing-gown round her still wet body, Daisy strode to Ruby’s room, intending to make the position firm and clear. Lily must have no illusions about her position here. She had already issued orders for the attic room to be cleaned and aired for her, and compared with what she had just left, it must seem like heaven. But as for sleeping in Ruby’s bed even for a moment – well, the idea was intolerable! She only hoped that Lily had taken a bath as instructed.
As she neared Ruby’s room, she was met by an irate Miss Maybury. ‘Mrs Chadwick, I must protest, I really must!’ The woman stood before her, her hands joined beneath her ample bosom, which at that moment was heaving with indignation.
Daisy groaned. Was she to get no peace today? She didn’t want to upset the new governess, despite her already having shown an iron hand when dealing with her troublesome daughter, so that there was no danger that she would ever be reduced to tears like her predecessors. Taking a deep breath, Daisy said firmly, ‘Now, Miss Maybury, Mary has told me about Lily, and I can assure you that she will be moving to her own room in the attic just as soon as Mary has made her bed ready. As for her taking lessons with Miss Ruby, of course that is out of the question.’
‘I’m glad you think that way, Mrs Chadwick,’ she said, more calmly.