A House of Repute

by E M Jones

  Lizzie continued to ignore Ted and joined in her friend’s planning. “Yes, we’ve got a little bit more time before our regulars come back. We can go out again to the places we went with Dina and work out all the people who saw her and who she’s been with. Right, let’s think.”

  As the two women conferred busily over their task, Ted drank his coffee as if they had simply asked to share his table.

  “Right. Sir Glynne, but he’s away. Arthur—do you think we should speak to him again? We did think he was going to combust with desire for her—might he have lost control in the end?”

  Charlie and Lizzie nodded in slow unison as Lizzie drew a clumsy ‘A’ on a scrap of paper, underneath a snake-like ‘S’.

  “Those at the Pleasure Gardens—what was the name of that one Dina went off with? Cliff? If we go back again, we can try to find them. Maybe if we go on the same night?”

  A ‘PG’ was added to Lizzie’s notes, and the women continued to recall their past few weeks together.

  “Let’s talk to Georgie again,” Charlie suggested.

  Lizzie moved away slightly in apprehension.

  “Lizzie, she’s alright. She was jealous of Dina with Sir Glynne like Marie, but she didn’t want her dead. She’ll help if she can, trust me. And she and Dina tended to work with the same sort of customer.”

  “Alright then, but you’ll have to tackle that one. I don’t think she liked me.”

  “That’s because you’re so young and pretty.”

  “So are you!”

  “No, I’m not. I’m rough around the edges and have learned not to take myself too seriously. I’m not a threat to the high-class girls.”

  “Charlie, that’s not true—“

  “Lizzie, we need to finish this—we’re working tonight. Right, I’ll talk to Georgie.”

  “And Johnny. We need Johnny. He knows everyone and everything that goes on.”

  Charlie’s momentum slowed at this idea.

  “Have you seen him since… since he came round, Charlie?”

  “No.” Charlie looked down at her stained, tepid cup.

  “He’ll help us, Charlie.”

  Charlie looked up, tears gathering at the edges of her eyes. “I know he will. Johnny’s a good man.”

  “So we have Arthur, the Pleasure Gardens, Georgie and Johnny.”

  “And one more—the posh man. Do you remember?”

  Lizzie thought her friend may be overcome by their detective work and looked questioningly across the table.

  “When we were looking for Dina, we went to see Johnny, and he said the last time he saw her, she’d gone off with a posh one—remember?”

  Lizzie’s grief had clouded her recollection of the past few days, but Charlie’s sharp mind cleared her confusion. “Yes, I do. Right, let’s add him.” Lizzie added an awkward J-PM at the bottom of her notes. She looked down her list and up towards Charlie. “Where do we start?”

  Charlie broke into a sad smile. “Johnny, of course. He might have some extra ideas too. Let’s go. Ted, are you coming or not?”

  The two women were up and striding towards the door, their suspect list neatly tucked into a corset, as Ted stumbled over the table and tried to catch up with them at the door.

  ***

  “And then he asked if he could make an honest woman of me!”

  Mrs Henry cackled in response to her own joke. Her companion was silent. Mrs Henry’s cackle quietened and became a wheeze.

  Before silence could settle, she continued her monologue. “He came back the next day and we spent time together again—he couldn’t keep away.” She blushed with pride as she recalled her embellished career history. “He asked my mistress the next morning the same question—could he make an honest woman of me? Can you believe it? My mistress was fierce—the best in town at the time—and taught me everything about running a refined house, one of reputation. She told him I was too good for him and that the great and good of the town would be in mourning if I was no longer available. There would be a notice in the Times.”

  Mrs Henry paused briefly as if re-reading her imaginary notice of marriage, which was flattering and lengthy. She seemed mesmerised by the idea, and Mary wondered whether the story had come to an end so she could return to her room. She shifted in her seat, and Mrs Henry resumed her verbal memoir.

  “He kept coming back for a while, we had a lovely time, and then he went off somewhere. I never heard from him again.”

  Mrs Henry’s chest heaved, possibly with emotion, and again, Mary considered her retreat.

  “Make an honest woman of me!” Mrs Henry barked once more as if woken suddenly. Her cackle was a lonely laugh once more, and she encouraged a response from Mary with a vigorous pat on the knee. Mary managed a smile and nod. Mrs Henry was dissatisfied and cackled more loudly and patted Mary more vigorously. Mary managed a titter and was relieved when Charlie burst into the room.

  “Charlie! I was just telling Mary about the time a young man tried to make an honest woman of me! Do you remember?”

  “Remember, Mrs H? How could I forget? It was nearly broadcast in the Times!”

  Charlie laughed in a pantomime style, and Lizzie went to sit with Mary. Lizzie studied Mary’s appearance for any outward signs of distress. The young woman seemed as neatly pretty as the day before. Her eyes showed no mark of tears. There were no visible injuries. She seemed distant, but Lizzie attributed that to Mrs Henry’s storytelling. Lizzie gave her a sombre smile, which she returned, her eyes darting towards the kitchen door.

  “The great and the good, Mrs H—that was it!” Charlie and Mrs Henry were rehearsing once more the dual retelling of Mrs Henry’s memoirs, and Charlie was succeeding in giving vitality to Mrs Henry’s false and faded memories.

  “Yes, Charlie, my mistress thought the whole town would be in mourning!”

  The final words were said in unison by the two.

  “Well, I am very glad that you didn’t marry him. Or I would not have the pleasure of working with you and learning from the best.”

  Mrs Henry blushed deeply. “Oh, Charlie—”

  “Come on, Mrs H. You know you’re the best.”

  Mrs Henry’s shade deepened to purple. She looked at Charlie, and for the first time during her retelling, her eyes smiled with her mouth.

  “Right, we’re off to get ready. The Alhambra tonight.”

  “Good idea, Charlie. You’re all bound to meet somebody there. And Johnny will be there to keep an eye on you. Take care, girls.” Mrs Henry turned to re-read her imagined wedding announcement through the window in the yard.

  Mary read Charlie’s nod towards the door in less than a second and escaped from captivity as if a condemned lamb.

  ***

  “Girls!”

  “Johnny.” Charlie turned to the large man, who stared at them, caught between embrace and interrogation. “This is our new recruit—Mary.”

  Mary smiled at Johnny, enjoying the obvious affection between him, Lizzie and Charlie, accepting the two women’s surety of his reliability. “How do you do?”

  Johnny moved into a half bow for Mary.

  Charlie leapt to his side, elf-like beside him, and hooked her arm through his. “Right, Johnny, we need your help with something.”

  Charlie walked Johnny out of The Alhambra, and Lizzie and Mary walked in their strangely misshapen shadow.

  19

  “Tell me about him again, Johnny.”

  Johnny paused and seemed transported back to a run-down classroom where arithmetic was being forced into his mind. Charlie maintained her expectant silence.

  “I’m trying to remember, Charl. She came in, Dina. You know what she was like—she came across haughty, like she thought she was better—but she was alright once you got to know her. Well, anyway, you know that.”

  Charlie, Lizzie and Mary answered with encouraging nods, and Johnny attempted to recall anything to reciprocate the women’s encouragement.

  “I tried to keep a bit of an eye
on her—well, on all of you—what with what’s going on.”

  Charlie squeezed Johnny’s substantial arm, and the dim light hid his blush.

  “She wandered—well, no, she never wandered—she glided around the place a bit and got a lot of attention, as usual. That one from before wasn’t here, the desperate one.” Charlie mouthed ‘Arthur’ towards Lizzie conspiratorially. “Then some posh blokes came in. I’ve not seen them before. Well, she’s right up their street, was, sorry, wasn’t she? One of them walked a little behind the others and didn’t get involved in watching the girls on stage; he spotted Dina and soon came over and bought her the priciest wine we’ve got. They talked for a bit. You could tell he was impressed by her—she was probably talking her French. Next time I had a look around, she’s at my side asking me to let you know she’s going and giving me that smile of hers, that one that means nothing at all.

  “He seemed alright, Charl, as they go. If I’d known… I would have… I would’ve made sure that she didn’t go off…”

  “Johnny, we know.” Charlie stopped Johnny’s self-reproach with a tender hold on his shoulder. She quickened the pace of her speech, new words pushing grief and guilt aside. “Right, had you seen any of the posh ones before?”

  Johnny scrunched his face. The sweat and high colour of exertion developed at his forehead and spread to cover his constricted guise. “I don’t think so, Charl. I can’t remember them here before. We don’t usually get the really posh ones here, as you know. They don’t compete with everyone else for their girls, do they?”

  Lizzie and Charlie knew he was right. A defeated silence descended, the riot from the auditorium a humming undertone.

  “Hold on.” Johnny’s face relaxed into its homely roundness. “When they left, they went in a black carriage. The bloke, when he opened the door for her, I thought that was a bit odd, and I did wonder whether he was stringing her along.”

  Three young and perplexed faces looked at Johnny for explanation.

  “It seemed odd, you know. The posh ones, they don’t open doors, do they? They have people like me, or better than me, to open doors. They just walk around and let the servants do all that. Why was he opening the door? It was a pricey carriage, Charl, nothing for rent there. One of the nicest I’ve seen. Why wasn’t there a servant or two doing the dirty work? I wondered whether one of the servants had taken it for the night to try and impress girls like Dina. I actually thought: fair play, it worked.” Johnny breathed quickly, oxidising the longest monologue he had ever spoken and gathering air for an addendum. “But the crowd he was with was posh, so then I thought I must be wrong. Maybe he wasn’t with them, maybe he was just following them, I don’t know. But I just thought good luck to him, anyway, and it seemed that Dina was made for the night one way or another.”

  “Right, let’s try to work this out then.” Lizzie matched the speed of Charlie’s earlier conversation as sadness started to form around them. “If it was a butler or footman taking the night off, we can ask the other girls who’s been up to it recently. There are a lot of empty houses at the moment. Was there anything on the carriage, Johnny? Any letters or a crest?”

  Johnny scrunched his face as if in the final contractions of a long and painful labour. His eyes seemed about to be swallowed by their sockets. His voice emerged calmly and steadily from his pained appearance. “It was black, all black, and gold trim. No crest. There was a gold animal on the front. A pig, or a bison. A boar. It was a gold boar.”

  The reverential silence that fell was unbroken by the sound of revelry that drifted and left them, as if in a different universe.

  “Lizzie!”

  The four of them looked in offense at the intrusion upon their contemplation.

  “There you are. Charlie. Johnny.” Ted’s respectful nod failed to mask his fluster. “I thought we were meeting at the door. I was getting worried.” He directed all his comments towards Lizzie, seemingly unconcerned that Charlie, Johnny and Mary might also have been lying dead in a ditch. “I’m pleased you’re all alright.”

  Ted disengaged his gaze from Lizzie and looked around the other three with a brief look of interest. “Have we found anything out yet?”

  Lizzie, Charlie, Mary and Johnny tightened their lips as the sound of riotous cancan filled the space between them.

  ***

  Charlie sidled up to Mary at the bar. “How are you?”

  “Fine. This is a lovely place, isn’t it?”

  “Oh yes. Delightful.” Charlie paused but Mary failed to respond to her sarcasm. Charlie turned her delicate features and forced them upon Mary. “Mary, how are you really? We’re the ones you talk to about how things are going. This is not a lovely place; we’d all rather be somewhere else. Now how the bloody hell are you?”

  Mary’s young face folded into a schoolgirl smile, the beginning of fondness at the curl of her lips. “I am fine, really. I feel… strange. Different, but still me. Look at me talking on—Dina was your friend; how are you two?”

  “We’re alright, Mary. We’ve been at this a long time now.” Lizzie admired the attempted deflection, but like Charlie, wanted Mary to make them her companions and confidantes—she would need them if she was going to last. “How was last night? Was your customer kind?”

  “Mrs Henry was very happy when I saw her this morning, so he must have been satisfied with me.”

  “Mary, Mrs Henry being happy is not the same thing as us being happy,” Charlie cut in. “Of course we have to keep her smiling—it’s her house—but Lizzie is asking if he was kind with you?”

  Lizzie and Charlie looked squarely at Mary, offering her nowhere to hide. Her smile unfolded.

  “He was. He didn’t hurt me. He was with me, and then he left when he was done.” Tears gathered at the corners of Mary’s eyes underneath the smoke of The Alhambra bar.

  Charlie squeezed Mary’s shoulder and gave a full and open smile of friendship. Like she had with Lizzie, she was pushing Mary enough to remember her feelings, but not too far, in case her desolation broke her spirit. “Well done. It sounds like you had a very successful first night. And you’re in Mrs Henry’s good books. You two with your girlish good looks—I’ve got no chance of being her favourite.” Charlie mocked a sulk as Lizzie and Mary laughed.

  Charlie’s gaze was pulled towards the stage. She ceased to be a part of her friends’ fun and straightened her clothes. “Right, back to work for me.” She nodded towards a table to the right of the stage where Beatrix sat, comfortable and self-satisfied, looking at Charlie with a knowing smile. “I think we should try to talk to Georgie tonight, see if she knows anything about this golden boar. I’ll give Bea something worth waiting for and meet you at the door in a bit.”

  Charlie leapt from the bench and into role. As she stepped away, she turned, paused and looked directly at Mary. “Ask Lizzie to fill you in on Ted, Mary. I’m assuming he will be your companion of choice tonight, Elizabeth?”

  Lizzie scowled at Charlie’s pert figure prancing towards the stage.

  ***

  “Let’s try another night. Let’s just get inside.” Ted looked hopefully at Lizzie, underneath his shoulder.

  He gently steered her in the direction of Mrs Henry’s house but was unable to get there.

  “No, Ted. If you want to go, go. Charlie and me have to carry on. Nobody else cares who killed Dina.”

  “I know, Lizzie. And I want to help. But there’s tomorrow. It’s late.” Ted’s words faded in knowing defeat.

  “Late is the best time for us to speak to Georgie, and you know that. And there is tomorrow, there’s always tomorrow, until another girl is killed. Then she has no tomorrow, does she?”

  Ted fell to silence and Lizzie guided their walk towards the alleys of Piccadilly.

  “Fancy meeting you here!”

  The dandy tone was matched by the appearance of a graceful arm underneath Ted’s on the opposite side to Lizzie. Charlie quickly fell into step with the couple, Ted sandwiched between the two wo
men. The three continued to be led by Lizzie, exerting an unusual force from beneath Ted’s shoulder and pushing the group forward.

  “Is Mary alright?” Charlie looked past Ted’s chest to check with Lizzie.

  “Yes, went off with a nice-looking man. Drunk, but not rotten. Passed the Johnny test at the door, and he sent him towards Mrs Henry’s with her. Where do you think Georgie will be?”

  “If she isn’t down Great Windmill Street now, I think we should try The Lamb—she’s a bit of a favourite there.”

  The three seemed like missionaries among the fallen as they remained undistracted by the enticements of the city at night.

  “Lucky you!” A shout of congratulations in Ted’s direction shifted them slightly.

  Charlie peered around Ted’s chest to continue to speak with Lizzie. “A boar. I can’t think of anyone who has that, can you?”

  “No. I’ve been thinking of everywhere we’ve been, but I’ve never seen one on a carriage, nor in any houses.”

  “We need to speak to one of the girls who the gentry like, posher than me.”

  “And me.”

  Ted coughed, his movement interrupting the girls’ conversation.

  “Any ideas, Ted?” Charlie’s eyes glistened with mischief, and Ted blushed.

  “No. Look, she’s not here, is she?”

  They had walked the length of Great Windmill Street without stopping.

  Charlie decided to ignore Ted’s embarrassment. “No, she isn’t. The Lamb it is. And I need to meet a certain lady soon, so let’s be quick about it.”

  20

  The expense for glass to partition the booths at The Lamb was proving its worth in manifold ways. Patrons luxuriated in alcohol and the confusion. Men and their companions became disarming sights made into a bewildering puzzle of the reflected and the tangible by mirror upon mirror upon mirror. The general response was to seek clarification in more wine and indulge in further imbalance and the softened boundaries of reality.

  The tavern was teeming. The mirrored walls created more space and filled it with more and more dummies at the same time.