Jack the Ripper Victims Series: The Double Event

by Alan M. Clark

  Chapter 14: A Mustard Tin

  In 1881, at the age of 39, Katie had become her mother. Stiffness and soreness visited the joints throughout her body, but particularly in her hands. She had lost several teeth. When standing, she moved slowly to prevent a periodic lightheadedness that could lead to becoming insensible. She frequently had difficulty catching her breath and had coughing spells. The spells weren’t nearly as severe as those of her mother, but were a reminder of what Catherine had experienced. Memories of her impatience with her mother always gave her a chill. It is the cold dirt of her grave I feel, and perhaps my own.

  Katie sat at the table in her room putting the finishing touches on a dress bodice for Annie. The open door let in the warm, late-spring daylight. Her neck ached from holding her head just right to balance the partial spectacles on her head, but she needed them to do close work as her vision had suffered from working by lamplight in the windowless room for so many years. Annie was worth all the effort. She had grown to be a beautiful, confident young woman.

  Although Parliament had not made education compulsory until 1880, and then only for ages five to twelve, Katie had succeeded in preventing Annie from having to seek employment as a laborer. Conway recently argued that since the girl was soon to become sixteen years old, she should start pulling her own weight, and he put her to work selling chapbooks with disastrous results. Currently she had few responsibilities, a situation that could not stand long without her father demanding she find work.

  With the idea that out of sight, was out of mind, Katie insisted that Annie spend much of her time with Charlotte Neet. The elderly woman, with Katie’s help, had recently moved into the room directly above the one occupied by Katie and her family. Charlotte’s son, Richard, had prospered in recent years and sent her a small sum of money for food and rent each month.

  Annie had recently met a possible suitor, renewing hope that her future would be bright. Katie needed to buy her a little more time.

  Annie, returning from an errand, entered the room. When Katie saw the big smile on her face, all of her accumulated fatigue, thoughts of fading health and mortality, fled.

  “James has made it plain that he’s not entertaining other women!” Annie said.

  Referring to the man by his first name was extraordinary. He was such a formal fellow, she had always called him Mr. Phillips.

  Annie shook Katie by the shoulder and her partial spectacles slipped. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Katie said, “but I am not surprised Mr. Phillips is devoted to you.”

  “He wants to come here to meet you and Papa.”

  “You mustn’t let him,” Katie said. “When the time is right, we will meet him out at a tavern for a meal or perhaps during an outing to Hyde Park.”

  Annie’s smile faded. “We are not poor,” she said indignantly.

  “No, but we cannot risk Mr. Phillips deciding you’re beneath his station.”

  “He’s not that sort of man.”

  “All in good time, Annie.” Katie tied off her thread, cut it and set aside her needle and tin thimble. “Look at this bodice. I’ve altered it to become a long polonaise with side poufs to compliment your blue linen skirt. I added fringe and dobbin that tore off a fine skirt damaged at the laundry. See how it matches the big bow over the bustle? Mr. Phillips will be most impressed.”

  “It’s beautiful, Mum, but it’s not the way I dress. If you keep putting me in finer and finer clothes, I’ll lose him for the opposite reason—he will feel the upstart.”

  “They’re just scraps from the laundry, clothes people forgot or no longer needed. It’s my needle and thread that brings them back to life. Any woman with my experience could do the same. It isn’t dishonest, but, even so, if it brings the two of you closer, so much the better.”

  “You’ve always wanted to sing while wearing the fine clothes of an entertainer,” Annie said, clearly trying to change the subject. “Why don’t you create your own from such scraps?”

  “I can alter a piece here or there, but I’m not a seamstress like your Great-Aunt Elizabeth. And I’d need fine cloth.”

  A bumping sound came from behind the open door. Katie put her finger to her lips and made a quite shushing. Annie nodded and dropped the bodice on the bed and threw a blanket over it. Katie stepped forward and opened the door a little further, revealing her ten-year-old son. He was filthy from scavenging the river. “What is my little mudlark doing?” she asked. “Are you eavesdropping, Thomas?”

  “No, Mum,” he said without looking up. “I was knocking the clods off my shoes before coming in.”

  The boy’s shoes were caked and his clothes and bare skin smeared with mud. He held in his arms the reeking canvas sack in which he carried the things he found at the river. The sack bulged with numerous short lengths of rope, scraps of sodden leather and what looked like the top of an old, ragged boot. The family didn’t earn much for what he gathered, but it did amount to something.

  “Well, take them off and come in.”

  Thomas kicked his shoes off, entered and made his way carefully past his mother and sister. He passed through the makeshift door Conway had recently put in to the rear wall to give access to a storage room the landlord had cleared out for their use. The new room was Annie’s and Thomas’s room and made life in the small dwelling so much easier for them all. Conway had gained the room for the price of mucking out the building’s cesspit. He and Thomas had done all the work themselves.

  Katie waited until the door was shut behind him before she spoke. “I hope he didn’t understand what he heard. If fortune shines upon you and Mr. Phillips wants you for his wife, your father won’t be pleased. If he thinks Mr. Phillips might take you away, he’ll want to have a talk with him. It could spoil everything. Your father wants to depend on you to sell chapbooks with him, but we’ve had enough of that.”

  “I don’t mind, really,” Annie said. “It was not so frightening, and I am all right now.” She lightly rubbed the nearly healed six inch gash on her upper arm.

  A month ago Conway had insisted that Annie take Katie’s place selling chapbooks with him at a hanging at Newgate prison. “You are not young and attractive anymore,” he told Katie. “Annie cannot sing, but she’ll turn heads. You know that’s what we need. She’ll do fine.”

  Conway’s slight still stung a little.

  “I was attacked the first time I went with him, but the bludger didn’t cut me so deeply.” She showed the old scar on her wrist, then delicately caressed the wound on her daughter’s arm. “I’m so sorry for this.”

  “I shouldn’t have held onto the coins,” Annie said, a troubled look in her eyes. “I’m sure he thought I had more.”

  “You’ll not go with your father again. I’ll go.”

  “Until Mr. Phillips decides, there’s no reason not to help Papa.”

  “You will honor my wishes. We won’t argue about it.” Katie gathered the dress bodice in the blanket and handed it to Annie. “Take this to Charlotte. She’ll hide it away for you until you want to wear it. Bring the blanket back right away.”

  “Yes, mum.” Annie went through the door to the outside and moved to the right to take the stairs up to Charlotte’s room.

  Katie set about to warm water.

  Carrying a bundle of fresh clothes, Thomas emerged from the new room nearly naked and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “I found something for you,” he said, gazing sleepily out the door. “I’ll wash it up this time.”

  Katie and Thomas had never been close, but as he got older, he seemed to understand it wasn’t natural. Lately, he made small, awkward efforts to be sweet to Katie, bringing her things from the befouled banks of the River Thames.

  He’s learned from Conway to win hearts by giving gifts.

  Last week Thomas brought home a piece of driftwood. “It’s shaped like a dragon,” he said, presenting it to Katie with a smile.

  Even his smile is borrowed from Conway.
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  The driftwood reeked of the river and the small creatures that had bored holes in it, but to save his feelings, Katie kept it for a while.

  Three days passed before Conway had had enough of the smell. “This has got to go,” he told Thomas. “It is such a wonderful dragon, it smells like one.” He made a funny face, wrinkling up his brow and nose, and Thomas smiled uncertainly. “Come, let’s throw it in the stove and see if it breathes fire from nose and mouth.”

  Thomas’s smile grew larger and he looked to his mother to see if she approved. Katie nodded her head. Conway spent nearly an hour watching the wood go up in flames in the old Soyer stove, making up stories about the dragon and sharing them with the giggling boy.

  He can be such a warm father, yet he charms Thomas into scavenging on the river.

  As Thomas sat on the bed now, fresh cuts were evident on his legs from his “adventures,” along with the large scars from those cuts that had festered before healing up. He had suffered numerous intestinal and digestive ailments since beginning his activities on the river a year ago.

  Conway had referred to the scavenging as adventure. He told tales, tall tales no doubt, of exotic cargos spilled from ships returning from the Orient, Africa and the West Indies.

  “There was a boy, another Thomas,” Conway told his son one evening, “who, with his friends, discovered gold and silver coins washed up on the bank of the river in a load of silk from India. The boys secretly invested their find. By the time they were grown, their investment had earned a great fortune. They used it to buy their own ship. Then they assembled a crew of their best friends and sailed the world.”

  Thomas liked the story. On his days off from school, he went to the river, at first alone, and later with a few friends.

  Katie was afraid for the boy, but Conway said, “You must let him learn to be an enterprising young man.”

  The water warm, Katie helped Thomas bathe in the wash tub. When he was nearly finished, he reached for something in the bundle of fresh clothes he’d set beside the tub. “I found this for you,” he said and showed her a small metal box with a hinged lid. “It’s hardly rusted.” He dipped it in the water. Using soap, he cleaned it inside and out and gave it to Katie. The gift was a mustard tin with pictures of cows standing in water painted on the side. Indeed, little rust marred its surface.

  “It’s beautiful, Thomas. Thank you.”

  His smile was large and definitely his own—an enduring image.

  Chapter 15: A Handbill

  On a Saturday in the beginning of summer, Conway sent Thomas off on a Band of Hope youth outing so he and Katie could have a little free time. As they walked to Hyde Park to listen to the music, Conway said, “I don’t care much for Band of Hope’s religion, but if they can keep Thomas on the straight and narrow, it’s worth it. I’d rather he grow up to be like the rest of those prater bastards than become what my father was. They’ll make him sign the pledge. It won’t keep him from drinking, but he’ll have to think about it.”

  Conway worried unnecessarily about Thomas drinking, but Katie would stay out of it. He was Conway’s boy, as Annie was her girl. The couple had come to an unspoken agreement about that long ago.

  They spent their afternoon near the bandstand, enjoying a sixteen piece brass band dressed in blue and gold uniforms and playing selections of American music. A pleasant change in the weather had brought cleaner air and all was fresh and new.

  On one of the paved walks, Katie found a handbill for Dr. Carter Moffat’s Ammoniaphone which was said to create artificial Italian air. With slogans like, Recommended by the Best Physicians, and, Invaluable in all Pulmonary Affections, it touted the Ammoniaphone as an aid to vocalists and public speakers. Since the greatest voices developed in Italy, it explained, it followed that Italian air was the key. Breath taken through the Ammoniaphone, a long tube charged with an aromatic chemical compound, Resembles the soft, balmy air of the Italian Peninsula. What really caught her attention was, Has proved of the utmost value in the treatment of coughs.

  The Ammoniaphone was not the sort of thing that could be afforded right now, but one day in the future perhaps, for it could help with both breathing and singing. Katie folded the handbill and slipped it into a pocket.

  On the way home, they passed through Covent Garden Market to see the flowers, fresh fruits and vegetables. Perhaps Conway would get a taste for something interesting and he’d pay the price to buy it for their supper.

  Annie was supposed to be off all day with friends, but Katie knew she was seeing Mr. Phillips. As many young couples courted in the Covent Garden Market because of the beautiful colors and fresh smells, it wasn’t a surprise to see Annie strolling along the avenue, arm in arm with her beau, carrying a tussie-mussie of white primrose. In the language of flowers it meant, I can’t live without you.

  Conway turned in their direction, and Katie’s heart skipped a beat. The young couple had paused beside the fountain on the eastern side of the avenue. Katie gripped his shoulder and turned him around to face her. He looked at her with a frown. She produced a calm, sweet smile and then planted a kiss on his lips. “Thank you for a wonderful day out.”

  “You haven’t kissed me in so long I’d forgotten what it felt like.” A slight frown settled on his face. Finally he said, “You’re quite welcome.”

  He turned back to continue southeast across the avenue, perhaps attracted by the fountain which sparkled brightly in the sunlight, but it wasn’t exactly the direction they needed to take to get home, and he was headed straight toward the loving couple.

  Katie took him by the arm and turned him again, then gestured as casually as she could toward the vendors at the southern side of the avenue. “If we can afford anything at all here,” she said, “it will be found at these carts.”

  "I am not buying vegetables today," he said, turning again toward the fountain and couple. "We have potatoes at home."

  "Yes, but I fancy a treat, don’t you?" She put her arm around him in a loving, companionable way, as she turned them as one toward the wagons on the western side of the market.

  Conway pulled himself free and stopped. He stared hard at Katie, his head cocked to one side. “What are you trying to keep me from, woman?”

  Shock and innocence would be the best defense, but she wasn’t pulling it off. “I—I was—”she began, but Conway cut her off.

  “Be still,” he said, and she became silent, her heart racing, while he looked all around.

  “I’m merely suggesting we deserve something special to end a wonderful day,” she said too loudly, as his eyes turned in the direction of the loving couple.

  Conway spotted them. He turned back to Katie. “You and your daughter have been keeping a secret, haven’t you? Thomas said as much, but I didn’t believe him.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Her words weren’t believable.

  “We’ll see about that,” he said and began walking swiftly toward Annie and Mr. Phillips.

  Katie hurried after him. She grabbed Conway again, jerking him to a halt, and he allowed it. Dropping all pretense, she said, “Please don’t. You’re not dressed well. Mr. Phillips will think less of Annie if he sees you dressed as you are.”

  “My clothes are fine. This Mr. Phillips will not think less of me for the holes you’ve patched. If he does, he’s not for Annie.”

  The couple could be seen out of the corner of her eye. Perhaps they would become lost in the crowd as she spoke. “He’s a man with a good income. He’s become devoted to her.”

  Conway stared at her again, hard, as if he could penetrate her mind and see what else she might be hiding. “Yet you’ve tried to keep this from me.”

  People flowed around them, occasionally obscuring Annie and her suitor. “Because you want her to take my place and work with you,” Katie said. “I want her to have better life, and Mr. Phillips could make that possible.”

  “She’s too young for you to be making her wedding plans. I am her father and I will ha
ve a word with him. Remain here.”

  Conway located the couple in the crowd and caught up with them. Annie was clearly startled and distressed to see him, but she made introductions. Conway gestured toward Katie and Annie came to join her while the men spoke privately.

  “He’s spoiling everything,” Annie said bitterly.

  “He is your father. We couldn’t keep it from him forever.”

  “Still, I’ll be lucky if Mr. Phillips will even look at me after this.”

  “Don’t get so high and mighty that you forget all your father has done for you.” That was a surprising reaction, but defending Annie against Conway had gone on for so long, it was strange to be defending him even though it was the right thing to do.

  Annie bowed her head and remained silent.

  Presently Conway left Mr. Phillips and came to stand next to Katie. He turned to Annie with a stern expression and said, “Go to your beau. He’ll escort you home.”

  Annie did as he said, and Katie and Conway left the market.

  “Annie’s Mr. Phillips smells of creosote,” Conway said, wrinkling up his nose.

  “His family runs a lampblack factory.”

  “So he said.” Conway became silent for a time as they walked, clearly lost in thought.

  He’s looking for grounds to put a stop to Annie’s courtship.

  Finally he turned to her. “The execution of your cousin comes next week. I’m almost finished with his ballad. I must prepare to travel to Stafford."

  Six months ago, Katie’s cousin, Charles Robinson, was arrested for the murder of a woman, his lover, some said. He was a troubled man, prone to anger and violence, but that was not the way he’d always been. For a time, when they were both young, he had been sweet to Katie, and their interest in each other had led to her first kiss. She’d never forgotten it. The news was heartbreaking.

  "I’ll need Annie to help sell chapbooks at the hanging," Conway said. "She’s too young to become serious about a man.”

  Seeing Charles hang would be horrible, but allowing her daughter to go to the execution was worse. “Annie is done with selling chapbooks,” she said. “That’s my job.”