Georgia

by Lesley Pearse

  ‘I know this isn’t the best way to meet people,’ he said still whisking the soap. ‘Try to think of me as a doctor.’

  Georgia had an overwhelming desire to run away. He had a length of rubber tubing in his hands, testing it by submerging one end in the water and squeezing a round bulb in his hand. The other end of the tube had a firm nozzle, the bright pink water was splashing into the white bath.

  ‘Hop up on the chair,’ he said, glancing round and taking her firmly by the hand. ‘I expect it’s been explained to you but I’ll tell you once again.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Georgia said suddenly as panic washed over her. She had looked at those hairy hands, knew where they were going and the thought disgusted her.

  ‘Yes you can,’ Janet said firmly behind her. ‘Don’t even look at Eric, sit on the edge of that chair and try to relax.’

  ‘I don’t see or feel anything,’ he said unconvincingly, shrugging his shoulders. ‘I’m just here to help girls in trouble.’

  Between the pair of them Georgia knew she could do nothing but agree.

  Clutching the dressing-gown round her she stepped into the bath and perched on the chair. Janet came forward and lifted the gown, revealing the lower part of her body. Then positioning herself by Georgia’s side, she took one hand in both of hers.

  ‘Now first I have to dilate the neck of the womb,’ Eric said, already sliding two soap-covered fingers between her legs. ‘When you got pregnant, that end sealed over with a thin membrane, first we have to break it, then pump the water in.’

  When Roger had examined her she was embarrassed, but secure in the knowledge he was a real doctor. This man with his sweaty smell and hairy hands made her feel tainted. As he felt round inside her he kept huffing and wheezing, if it hadn’t been for Janet holding her hand so tight and the desperate need for his skill, then she would have pushed him away and run for it.

  Georgia turned her eyes up to the ceiling, and tried to blank out from her mind what was happening.

  It didn’t exactly hurt, it was more humiliating than painful. She felt a dull ache at one point, very similar to a period pain.

  ‘That’s done it,’ Eric said cheerfully, withdrawing his hand and picking up the length of tubing. ‘Now this end,’ he lightly touched the rigid end and squirted the bulb again to see that it was working. A jet of pink soapsuds trickled across Georgia’s thigh. ‘This has to go right in there, then I pump the water. Janet please hold the other end under the water all the time, we mustn’t risk an air bubble getting in.’

  Once again his fingers felt their way in, this time with the rigid end firmly between them. He groped around for a moment or two then smiled.

  ‘That’s it, it’s going in now, you’ll feel an odd sensation soon.’

  It seemed as if he was pushing the tube forever and the sensation he mentioned came on, making her feel slightly nauseous.

  ‘Ready for the soap now,’ he said, checking to see Janet was holding the other end down correctly. ‘Here goes.’

  He pumped for what seemed like minutes. The level in the bowl was going down, yet none was coming splashing out as Georgia had expected.

  ‘That’s it, job done,’ he said, withdrawing the tube quickly. ‘It will start working within twelve hours, if it doesn’t we’ll have to try again. But I’ll stake my reputation on you losing the baby before morning.’

  Georgia quickly covered herself as Eric left the room. She was surprised how little it had hurt and she now felt a little foolish. As she climbed out of the bath she noticed her stomach was bloated, and she was shivering, but that was the only ill effect.

  She went back into the living room and found her purse.

  Eric was pulling on his raincoat, refusing a cup of tea from Janet. It was obvious he wanted to get out as quickly as possible, his tools already packed in a small leather briefcase.

  ‘Can’t stop,’ he said, his eyes darting about the room. ‘Call it a tenner love, and remember not to spill any beans if you have to go into hospital, otherwise you might be very sorry.’

  ‘There’s no need for any threats,’ Janet moved towards him, her eyes flashing. ‘She’s one of the girls, she knows how to behave. I’ll be contacting you if it doesn’t work.’

  Janet closed the door behind him and thumped the wall beside it.

  ‘What a piece of human shit!’ she exploded. ‘He’d sell his own granny for a shilling. He couldn’t care less about his victims. I bet he gets –’ she broke off suddenly as if remembering how young Georgia was. ‘Never mind that! How yer feeling?’

  ‘Not so scared now,’ Georgia smiled, a little colour coming back into her cheeks. ‘I mean, I can’t stop anything now can I? I just have to wait and see what happens.’

  ‘Good for you,’ Janet smiled and tickled her under the chin. ‘Now let’s see what I’ve got in the cupboard to eat, you don’t look as if you’ve eaten for days.’

  Georgia was seeing another side of Janet now as she cooked chops for their tea, folded clothes and put away toys. She was very much a mother, not the good-time girl she liked to portray at work. The lounge was very warm and it was good to watch television again, almost the same snug feeling she’d had at home in Blackheath.

  ‘How did you come to be a stripper?’ Georgia asked after they’d eaten the meal and Janet sat down with her coffee and cigarette, her slippered feet up on a pouffe.

  ‘It started out as a bit of a lark one night,’ Janet grinned wickedly. ‘My old man had left me with the three kids, I was a bit down and up to my eyes in debt. A mate asked me to go down the club for a few drinks. Well, I was so cheesed off I dolled myself up and out we went.’

  She paused to light another cigarette, offering one to Georgia.

  ‘Sorry you don’t do you. Anyway I got a bit pissed and when the strip act came on I fell about laughing it was so bad. The manager challenged me. “Do it better than her and I’ll give you twenty quid.”’

  ‘So you did it?’

  Janet grimaced, as if remembering conflicting emotions.

  ‘Well that twenty quid meant food in the cupboard and new shoes for the kids. So I turns to him and says, “All right mate, yer on.” Next thing I knew he was wheeling me up on the stage.’

  ‘Were you any good?’ Georgia was torn between shock and admiration.

  ‘Better than the other girl!’ she laughed loudly, throwing back her head. ‘I felt a bit silly, me undies was a bit rough and that. But I could dance and me bum and tits hadn’t sagged that much. By the time I was waving my bra round me ’ead, the whole place was in an uproar. I got called for an encore.’

  ‘Did you get the twenty pounds?’

  ‘Yeah, and he asked me to appear the next night. A fiver for two ten minute slots. Can you think of a quicker way to make that kind of dough?’

  Georgia shook her head.

  ‘I was planning to go to that club in Berwick Street just before I met Helen,’ she admitted. ‘Do you think I’d have been any good?’

  ‘Don’t you even think of it,’ Janet snapped. ‘I knew all the people round ’ere. I knew what to watch out for. I make it sound glamorous, but believe me it ain’t. You know what ‘appens to old strippers?’

  Georgia blushed.

  ‘They end up as winos, or brass,’ she said. ‘I had no alternative back then when the kids was small, but I keep it in mind. I do me turn and I come ’ome. I don’t mess with the guys, and I saves some of the dough for a rainy day.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you like to get married again?’

  Janet snorted with laughter. ‘Chance’d be a fine thing. Who wants a woman with three kids for more than a night or two? They come round, want a free meal, a quick screw and they’re on their way again. It’s better to have a good mate like Sal than a man who just takes.’

  It was like looking in a peepshow as Janet told her things about her former life.

  ‘I don’t blame anyone but me,’ Janet explained her philosophy of life. ‘All the troubles I’ve had were my own
doing. If I’d chosen a different path instead of what I thought was a short cut I’d be in clover now. I got no time for people who grizzle and whine. You make your own luck.’

  It was after twelve when Janet took her into her bedroom. Next to the big double bed, a narrow single one was made up.

  ‘You sleep in there love, and wake me up if it starts. Anything yet?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Georgia laughed. ‘I don’t know what to expect anyway.’

  ‘Well the soap acts as an irritant. It starts up contractions. They feel some’at like period pains. They go on for a bit, getting stronger and stronger, then if all goes well you’ll lose it. It can be messy, so put a pad on now. But don’t worry about the bed, I’ve put a rubber sheet on it and the sheets are old ones.’

  Georgia lay awake long after Janet was snoring next to her.

  To help her to sleep she lapsed into her favourite game, pretending to be a famous actress in a West End musical. She imagined the crowd shouting for an encore, and herself sweeping out of the stage door into a waiting limousine. As she raised one foot to get into the car, a voice behind her made her turn.

  ‘I knew I’d find you one day.’

  She turned to see Peter standing there, his blond hair gleaming like gold under a street light, his arms open wide, waiting for her to run to him.

  When she woke, for a minute she didn’t know where she was, until a dull ache in her stomach reminded her. It was still dark, and Janet snored softly in the bed next to her.

  Creeping out of bed silently, she fumbled for her dressing-gown and slippers and went into the lounge.

  It was four o’clock, and still raining hard when she looked out of the window. Across the street four men were staggering up the steps of the Black Cat club. Two of them supported the third between them, and a fourth lurched unsteadily behind them.

  Georgia perched on the arm of a chair and watched them. They paused under the club’s canopy as if hoping to see a taxi. An illuminated sign was flashing on and off beside them, their faces turning red to green alternately. There was no one else about. Not so much as a light in an upstairs window or a passing car.

  She turned away from the window to take some painkillers Janet had left on the table, and make some hot milk.

  She turned to examine a photograph of Janet’s children. It had been taken in a studio. What would happen to them if Janet didn’t get rehoused in the next couple of years as she hoped? Would her daughter end up working in one of the clubs? Would the boys spend their nights in smoky billiard halls, waiting to be sucked into crime?

  When all this was over she would have to think hard about her own future. Soho might be a convenient place to hide, but as Janet had pointed out so clearly, it was full of life’s losers.

  By six the pain was so strong she went back to bed. Every now and then the soap oozed out in spurts, the smell of carbolic making her nauseous. She lay on one side, then the other, trying to find a way to get comfortable. Between the pains she counted. At first she could get up to forty, but gradually they got closer and closer together, until they were only seconds apart.

  It wasn’t just in her stomach now, but in her back too. She didn’t want to wake Janet yet, but it was scary lying there in the darkness.

  The curtains didn’t quite meet in the middle. She focused on a triangle of sky, watching as it slowly turned from black to grey. In the distance she could hear a milk float, the crates rattling as it went over bumps, and slowly the hum of traffic increased from the direction of Charing Cross Road.

  It was light enough to see Janet now. Her red nightdress bunched up around her neck, one pale arm curled round her head, wheezing as she slept.

  There were no gaps between the pain now, just great waves of agony that grew gradually stronger. She tried to control herself, gripping the edge of the mattress, but even biting her lips together she couldn’t stop a moan rumbling out.

  Janet sat up with a start.

  ‘Oh my God,’ she said, rubbing her eyes, smearing the night before’s mascara all over her cheeks. ‘I’d forgotten about you. How is it?’

  ‘Bad,’ Georgia said through gritted teeth. ‘I’ve been trying not to wake you.’

  ‘You silly mare,’ Janet jumped out of bed and wrapped herself in a shabby blue dressing-gown, her hair like a ball of tangled yellow wool. ‘Are you losing any blood?’

  Georgia gritted her teeth as a white hot pain gripped her. This time she felt blood flowing, warm and sticky on her legs.

  Janet moved over to her and pulled back the covers. She gasped as she saw the blood and hastily got two more towels.

  Time and place ceased to have any meaning as pain consumed her. She was aware of Janet sitting beside her, the cooling touch of a damp flannel on her face, the soothing words of encouragement, but pain drove out thought or hope.

  Janet was frightened now.

  She could almost see the powerful contractions tearing at the child in front of her. Her face was contorted with the effort of not crying out. Bathed in sweat, rope-like veins on her forehead, yet still she had the iron-will not to beg for an ambulance.

  It wasn’t the first abortion she had helped with, but all those other girls were experienced, most had already got a child. Could she trust Georgia to tell her when she could no longer endure it?

  A tapping on the door sent Janet scurrying to open it.

  ‘Thank heavens you’ve come,’ Janet blurted out. ‘I’m scared Sal, I think she might die!’

  Sally slipped in, closing the door behind her. She had left the children still in bed, intending to just check on Janet and Georgia before she went back to get them breakfast.

  ‘Why, what’s happened?’ She had only a thin coat over her nightdress, hair still in curlers. Her face without her usual thick make-up was as pale as an iced bun.

  ‘She ain’t screaming or nothing, she’s just taking it. But I don’t think she can stand much more.’

  Sally went whiter still when she saw Georgia. She was struggling now, tossing from side to side, her hair sticking to her head, her eyes rolling back.

  ‘I’ll get an ambulance,’ she gasped. ‘What shall I say?’

  ‘Anything,’ Janet almost screamed. ‘Just get them here.’

  As they looked back to the bed Georgia tried to sit up. Both women ran to her.

  ‘Stay where you are,’ Janet pushed her back, her hands trembling with fright. ‘You can’t get up!’

  ‘Get me to the toilet,’ Georgia croaked.

  The two older women’s eyes met. Sally nodded.

  Taking one arm each they half carried Georgia across the room, out across the tiny hall into the bathroom. Janet lifted the blood stained nightdress and sat her down, holding on to her shoulders.

  They could see her knuckles turn white as she gripped the seat, her head lolling to one side like a broken doll.

  ‘I’m going to be sick,’ she whispered.

  Janet grabbed the waste bin, pushing it in front of her just as Georgia retched. Once again her face went purple, eyes rolled back, she bared her teeth and her neck seemed to swell before their eyes.

  ‘Oh Gawd! She’s havin’ a fit!’ Sally cried out. ‘What do we do?’

  The swollen veins in her forehead and only the whites of her eyes showing were enough to terrify the two older women but when a low roar rumbled in her throat, Sally crossed herself involuntarily.

  ‘Push it out!’ Janet cried, wringing her hands with fear and impotence. ‘Push!’

  Each second seemed like an hour as they waited in the icy bathroom. Janet held Georgia against her chest, sobbing now in fear. Sally knelt down in front of Georgia, eyes wide with panic.

  Once again her face contorted, neck swelling, but this time her eyes opened wide and her hands gripped at the toilet seat. Her nostrils flared, teeth clenched together, and they both heard a slithering sound, quickly followed by a splash.

  She slumped forward, only prevented from falling to the floor by Janet’s arms.

 
‘Was that it?’ Sally jumped up, wild-eyed, black hair tossed back from her white face.

  ‘I hope so,’ Janet scooped Georgia up into her arms, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. ‘You look. She’s fainted. I’ll get her back to bed.’

  Sally came into the bedroom minutes later, she stood by the door, her face a pale green. Janet barely turned. She had Georgia back in bed now, tucking the covers round her.

  ‘Blood always looks like pints, even when you lose a teaspoonful,’ she said, more calmly than she felt. ‘At least she don’t seem to be in pain.’

  Georgia’s eyelids fluttered, then opened.

  ‘It’s over now darlin’,’ Janet whispered, smoothing back the girl’s damp hair. ‘You was a brave little soldier! How d’you feel?’

  ‘Just, kind of odd,’ she said weakly.

  ‘Let’s get you washed and into a clean bed,’ Janet said. ‘And Sal will make a nice cup of tea before you go back to sleep.’

  Janet came back into the bedroom with a clean nightdress over her arm, but stopped by the bed, tears pricking her eyelids.

  Sally had Georgia lying on a white towel, just drying her legs. Georgia’s skin looked much darker now, skin shining like a light brown pebble just tossed out of the sea. Such perfection, long, slender legs, tiny waist and small jutting breasts with dark brown nipples.

  But it was her face that effected Janet most. It was like a small child’s when it has just woken, smooth, unlined, dark pink lips in a moist bow. Teeth and the whites of her eyes almost dazzling. Delicate bones that transported her heart-shaped face from being just pretty, to magnificence.

  Janet had seen little beauty in her life. Her children’s faces, flowers in the market, and a sunset once in Paris were about the only things she remembered as being truly beautiful. But as she looked down at Georgia, tears trickled down her cheeks.

  ‘What’s the matter, Jan?’ Georgia’s voice was croaky.

  ‘You,’ Janet retorted quickly. ‘I was just thinking that you’d better not take up stripping otherwise there’ll be no room for old bags like me anymore.’