The Pretty Girls

by Hazel Aitken

  Hannah didn’t know but mentioned her fear that poor murdered Sal had seen too much.

  “I don’t know what to say.” His grip tightened on her arm. “I suppose things always seem incredible when they happen close to home. Nearly there now.” They had turned off the main thoroughfare and were walking on uneven cobbles. “One floor up and I warn you our apartment isn’t much, but it’s warm and Eliza is welcoming.”

  “Your poor sister. A sick father to care for and I am about to add to her burdens, not to mention Rosa. Will you really go back for her?”

  “I’d do anything for you, miss…I mean Hannah. Besides, I have to be sure the premises are secure. Be careful, now, these stairs are uneven.” He unlocked a door opening off Chandler’s Court and Hannah saw steps leading upwards.

  “Sam dear, you took your time,” came a lisping female voice as a door opened at the top of the stairs and soft light flooded out. A tall slender figure stood there and as they drew nearer, Hannah saw fair hair caught into a topknot and gentle features disfigured by an ill-mended harelip. “Have you the powders? Father is worse…oh, you’ve brought a visitor.”

  No wonder the poor woman sounded dismayed. Hannah held out a hand. “I am so sorry, Miss Webster. I am in desperate straits and your brother is a saviour. He will explain.”

  To Eliza’s credit she took the proffered hand and led the way into a cramped area off which led four narrow doors; one concealing steps leading to an enclosed backyard and two opening into what must be bedrooms. The fourth was open to reveal a kitchen range glowing with heat. Taking a package from her brother, she ushered Hannah into the warmth and disappeared into one of the other rooms.

  “Come in, Hannah. I shall go now for the little girl. My sister will make you a cup of tea or perhaps if I show you where things are…”

  He did so and took his leave, and Hannah was soon seated in blissful comfort sipping hot tea. How kind these people were especially when they had their own troubles. She gazed around the room which was homely but orderly, a scrubbed table in the middle and a sofa piled with embroidered cushions pushed against a wall. A garland of evergreens and a few jugs containing holly as well as small ornaments adorned the wooden shelf above the range and a large rug lay in front of it.

  “Father has settled, for the moment anyway.” Eliza entered and busied herself at the stove. “I shall ask you no questions until you have eaten. There is beef broth and fresh bread and cheese, but first I will show you my room and bring you warm water and a towel.”

  Hannah drained her cup and followed Eliza into a small room made comfortable with rose patterned wallpaper and a pegged rag rug beside a narrow bed that was covered with a pink and white patchwork quilt. A washstand on which was a white china bowl and matching jug stood against one wall, a split cane chair was tucked into a corner and a row of hooks had been screwed behind the door.

  Soon Eliza was back with an enamel jug full of steaming water and over her arm a white towel. She made no comment but gave Hannah a lopsided smile and placed the jug on the washstand. “Cold water is in this one.” She indicated the china jug and departed.

  When Hannah was again seated beside the range, tucking into savoury broth and enjoying pieces of thick brown bread spread with butter, Sam returned with Rosa who was pale as tallow wax, dishevelled and on the verge of tears. He and Eliza exchanged glances. “I’ll sit with Father,” he offered and left the women and girl alone.

  Half an hour later when they had eaten, Eliza pulled a high-backed wooden chair to the range and seating herself said quietly, “May I know your story? Whatever it is, I assure you that you will be safe tonight. You, Hannah, may share my bed and we shall make a bed of sorts for Rosa in here.” Her soft lisp was soothing and attractive in its way.

  “The problem is where to begin. Rosa is a maid of all work in a house where my widowed mother and I have taken lodgings,” she began, and then the words started to pour out, the strange occurrences and her fear for Rosa.

  Eventually Sam joined them. “Father’s asleep but his breathing’s rough and shallow. At least he hasn’t vomited again but it’ll be a disturbed night.” He whispered in Hannah’s ear, “I don’t know what to think but there was a man hanging around the shop.” He turned to Eliza, “Have you sorted out sleeping arrangements?”

  “Of course, and I have heard the harrowing tale. Rosa must stay here. I don’t know the implications of hiding a workhouse child who was placed elsewhere, but we shall find out. What about your work, Hannah?”

  She plucked at her ruined dress. “I shall have to return to Mrs Wilson’s and fetch something to wear so I’ll send a message that I’ll arrive late for work. And, of course, I have to look for other lodgings.” She sighed wearily. “But in the morning, I may be able to face things, I’ll feel brighter and more brave.”

  “You’ve been very brave, no-one more so,”Sam said firmly and Eliza nodded agreement before rising to her feet. “What a strange Christmas day for all of us.” She put an arm around Rosa. “You are exhausted and I suggest a wash and bed. I’ll bring blankets and you will sleep on the sofa. You’ll be completely safe, my dear.”

  Later, in Eliza’s bed which the girl had insisted she share and where in borrowed nightgown she lay straight as an arrow in case she take up too much room and prove a disturbing influence, Hannah whispered her thanks again.

  “It’s nothing. I am pleased to help and I am concerned for Rosa. In fact, I am concerned for all vulnerable children. I help teach in one of the ragged schools so I know what I am talking about.”

  “You’re a very special person, I can see that. No wonder Sam is so proud of you and he is, that’s obvious.”

  “Sam’s special too,” Eliza’s breath was warm on Hannah’s neck. “We are very close and have been since our mother died years ago. I am protective of my little brother and would hate to see him hurt.” Eliza sighed and turned over. “It won’t be a very comfortable night and I shall have to get up to Father every so often. He and Sam share a room but I can’t leave it all to him. Oh, dear, Father is coughing again.”

  Through the dividing wall came the sound of painful rasping and the murmur of voices. She and Rosa must find new lodgings as soon as possible; these kind people bore too many burdens.

  Next morning, both Sam and his sister looked fatigued and drawn but announced cheerfully that their father was no worse, in fact slightly improved. Sam was full of plans.

  “First a message to old Mr Lawson. I shan’t mention you, Hannah. I shall tell him truthfully that my father is ill and I shall be later than usual to the shop. I’ll get a message to the workhouse and then accompany you to number fourteen and beard the lion, so to speak.”

  Hannah tried to smile but her spirits lowered at the prospect of meeting the woman who had been less than kind to Mama and herself and almost certainly harboured evil intentions towards Rosa.

  “…As for you, Rosa,” Eliza placed a pan of smooth simmered oats on the table and began dolling portions into china bowls, “you will stay here with me. You will be useful, but the main reason is your safety. You needn’t go outside at all because as you know there are interior steps leading to the backyard. Sam, Father is calling again, will you go this time?”

  Hannah and Rosa did their best to ease Eliza’s lot after Sam departed and tidied and cleaned whilst she attended to her parent. An hour or so later, Hannah gave a gasp of surprise when Sam returned, this time with Dr Marcus Lisle in tow.

  Sam, not entirely at ease, led the way into the kitchen announcing that he and the doctor had met in the main entrance hall of the workhouse and on hearing something of the story, both of Sam’s sick father and of Hannah’s predicament, had insisted that he return to Chandler’s Court and be of assistance.

  “I was already acquainted with your brother, Miss Webster, as I patronise Lawson’s Apothecary Shop,” he greeted Eliza, “and I know Miss Morley,” he smiled at Hannah before turning towards Rosa, “but I have not had the pleasure of meeting this yo
ung woman.” Rosa blushed prettily and hung her head in embarrassment. “I suggest I attend the patient, so lead the way, Miss Webster.”

  “We came by cab,” Sam told Hannah, “and the doctor insists he accompany you to your lodgings.” He frowned. “I suppose it means I can get to work although Mr Lawson will be there by now. When I see you this evening, we can talk. Take good care, Hannah.”

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  Chapter Fourteen

  “Well, Miss Morley, I insist you fill the gaps in the extraordinary story Sam told me.”

  They were seated in a brougham and now turned out of Chandler’s Court into King Street which was humming with noise and commotion. The world was getting back to work and normal activities after a day of mainly family celebration.

  “It was terrifying,” Hannah told him, “Entering the house, sensing someone close by in the darkness and then hiding in the holly hedge, and finding Rosa, distraught and frightened half to death, in the trunk. I very much fear Mrs Wilson arranged for a possible assault on the girl or even an abduction. Does that sound like wild imagining?”

  “Not as you tell it.” He laid a hand on her arm. “There are huge social evils mostly hidden under so-called respectability. In the words of a speaker at a meeting I attended: There is exploitation at all levels, the faces of the powerless being ground under feet climbing ladders to financial success or personal pleasure. Well put, isn’t it? See, we are in Blackfriar’s Lane. Let me do the talking and then help you bring down your belongings.”

  “I am causing you such inconvenience but I am deeply grateful to you, and to the Websters.”

  “They’re a nice family and Mr Lawson speaks well of young Samuel. He refers to him as diligent and reliable. Still, I don’t suppose for one moment Samuel is aware of it because his employer always adds that it would not do for the young man to rest on his laurels.”

  Blackfriar’s Lane looked as depressing as usual and number fourteen and its neighbour grubbier and more run-down than ever. As if catching her thought, the doctor said, “Not what you were used to I’ll be bound, but you’ll soon be out of here forever.”

  If Mrs Wilson was surprised to see Hannah, she failed to show it but her surly expression was ironed out as if by magic when she saw her companion who introduced himself with some exaggeration, Hannah thought, as, “a friend of Miss Morley’s come to help with the removal of her belongings.”

  “So you are leaving us, Miss Morley, I am sorry to hear that.” Liar, thought Hannah and wondered how much Mrs Wilson knew or guessed of the events of the previous evening. “I was going to offer you and your dear mother one of my better rooms at no extra cost, you understand.”

  I understand all right. Aloud Hannah said, “Thank you but I cannot remain here. You see…” She was interrupted by Marcus Lisle.

  “Miss Morley arrived here last evening and found the front door open. The house was unlit and it appeared your maid had fled. May we ask if she has returned safely? Miss Morley has been very anxious about her, especially as the night was very cold.”

  “Leary has left me, the ungrateful girl, but you know what maids can be like. I imagine she was lonely here. It’s not much of a life for a young person without a companion, but I am not in a position to keep more staff.” There was a whining note in her voice.

  “We shall see you are not out of pocket,” the doctor said briskly. “Now, there is no need to accompany us, Mrs Wilson. I am sure you have much to attend to in the absence of your maid and Miss Morley can lead the way to your attic rooms.” Did she imagine the emphasis on the last two words, Hannah wondered. No, because the landlady looked disconcerted, even uncomfortable as she moved away from the stairs and allowed them access.

  “Ye gods! Don’t tell me you and your mother lived up here? The room is perishing, the place quite appalling.” He crossed to the window. “Not much of a view either unless one has a taste for grim backyards. I am sorry it came to this, Miss Morley. You and your mother have suffered.”

  “Not as much as Sal who lived next door. You know who I mean, Dr Lisle; the child that was brought to the workhouse, her throat cut. I met her soon after we arrived here and she told me something quite shocking. I am as sure as I can be that later on Mama and I saw her in the yard…” she broke off. “Why are you looking at me like that? What have I said?”

  “Miss Morley…Hannah…Gather your things together and get out of here. Forget that you ever knew anyone named Sal.” He sounded angry as he opened the lid of the trunk and then after ripping clothes off hangers began stuffing them inside the trunk. A shawl and boots were thrown in whilst Hannah emptied the contents of a drawer on top of everything else. His tone had alarmed her and as they worked in silence, she felt almost afraid of him. He seemed unapproachable and remote, and it had to be because of what she had said.

  It was as the trunk lid was lowered that a scream tore through the air and he straightened, his expression alert as he listened. “It’s from next door; Mama and I think girls go there to have their babies,” Hannah informed him as another cry of anguish sent icy tremors along her spine.

  “Miss Morley, whatever have you and your mother got mixed up with? You realise, don’t you, that I cannot leave until I have made enquiries and perhaps helped whoever is in distress. I will instruct the cab driver to return to Chandler’s Court and carry your trunk upstairs. Do as I say and I will see you at your work or call upon you later. Please Hannah…”

  Back at the Websters’, Eliza had settled Rosa to clean brass ornaments whilst she baked bread and the pair were cosily ensconced in the kitchen. “You look exhausted, Hannah, I shall make you a hot chocolate and you will drink it before you do another thing. Are you going to your work today?” Eliza’s fair hair flopped over her forehead reminding Hannah of Sam.

  “I have to. I shall look out a dress,” she gestured towards the trunk that now stood in a corner of the room, “and when I am presentable, I shall walk there. How is your father? Still improving, I hope.”

  Eliza nodded. “I am grateful Dr Lisle examined him. My mind is easier. Sam has always said what a nice gentleman he is. I believe he is very well connected. Not that it matters, of course.”

  After resting for a while and Eliza having pressed a grey woollen dress of her own for her, Hannah walked to the workhouse and reported to Mrs Stannard. Briefly she explained the circumstances leaving out references to Rosa. It wasn’t that she mistrusted the matron but it was too easy for news to spread and the girl’s whereabouts must be kept secret.

  There was a slight relaxation of the rules as it was St Stephen’s Day, Boxing Day as some called it, and Hannah prepared to tell her pupils stories and teach them lively poems and songs. In the end she set them to draw pictures on their slates.

  Her mind darted about and her thoughts would not be stilled. There was the problem of hiding Rosa, of finding new lodgings, and of informing her mother that they might themselves be at risk owing to all that had happened; and how, she wondered, was Dr Marcus Lisle getting on? She doubted that he would be admitted to the house next door but if he gained entry, what would he find?

  She discovered later in the day when she was attending a head injury in the receiving room, a young labourer who had fallen from scaffolding in one of the yards outside.

  “I will take over. One can never tell how such an injury will affect the patient.” Mrs Stannard was at her side. “Blood loss does not indicate the extent of damage. We shall have to admit him…oh dear…and the receiving ward is full. Miss Morley, I have just met with Dr Lisle and he wishes to speak with you. I suggest you use the side room.”

  The side room was where Sal had died and Hannah clenched her fists in an effort to control her emotions as she entered. He looks tired, she thought as Marcus Lisle rose from a battered chair to greet her. “Sit down,” he invited, “and please tell me everything you know about your ex-neighbours.”

  “Well, it’s only a few weeks since Mama and I took lodgings with
Mrs Wilson. I met Sal right at the start, but you know about her, and you know too what we believed about the girls giving birth, but I have been thinking about other things. Sometimes a carriage halted outside and on one very foggy night when I could see nothing, I heard sounds of someone being lifted or pushed into such a vehicle.”

  She halted, aware of his unwavering stare. “There was the occasion when I took a dress next door, Mama had altered it for Sal. Incidentally it was taken to a pawnbroker’s. I am sure someone else was expected that night and the woman who opened the front door imagined I was that person and spoke harshly. Then she pretended a friend was due to arrive.” A shadow crossed her features and he was quick to notice it.

  “Go on,” he urged. “You have thought of something else. I know it.”

  “I wondered whether you had gained entry and whether you came across a woman named Polly?”

  “I was admitted. At least I barged my way in announcing that I was a doctor and I owe it to you to tell you what I discovered, but no, there was nobody named Polly as far as I can tell. There were two women who seemed to be in charge of things and they hardly spoke in my presence. The older, about fortyish, was referred to as Nellie. I can’t recall the other’s name if I heard it but not Polly. The place is a disgrace and yes, Miss Morley…Hannah…if I may…there was a young woman suffering the pangs of a difficult labour.”

  “Will she be all right?” It was such as naive question that Hannah blushed. How could any poor girl giving birth in those circumstances be all right? And what of her future?

  “She survived and so did the child, but they are not out of danger. I have my suspicions about the place. The girl was past caring, but was introduced as a young relative, visiting when her pains began, but there’s no truth in that; she is a different type, altogether superior to the rough women of whom she is afraid, I am sure of it. Of course, there is nothing illegal about offering shelter to pregnant women and helping them at the birth. It would depend on other factors: what sort of arrangements were in place, the exchange of money, the welfare of mother and child.”