‘That’s rubbish, and you know it. You know nothing of her – nor she of you. If she knew who you really were, where you came from, the life you led, she would have nothing to do with you. Nothing. Do you hear me, Ettie?’
‘Don’t be so pathetic.’ Ettie spat the words at him. ‘You’re no different from all the others. Tell the truth for once: you’re jealous, aren’t you? You want to own me, make me into something I’m not.’
‘Ettie, don’t you realise I’m only trying to protect you? I can see through people like her. People with their phoney society smiles and ever-so polite manners. I can see how she looks at me, just because I’m a Jew.’
‘Now you are being stupid.’ Ettie twisted round and grasped the door handle. ‘I’m going out.’
‘Ettie, please,’ he gripped her wrist, trying to stop her from opening the door.
‘Jacob,’ she hissed through her gritted teeth. ‘Let go of me. You’re hurting me.’
‘It’s getting late, Ettie.’ He was pleading with her, but his eyes said more than his words. ‘Please, come inside. Please. With me.’
‘No, Jacob. I need a walk, to get out in the fresh air.’ She shook her head. ‘I want to get all this nonsense out of my mind. It’s driving me barmy, all this spirits and rituals rubbish.’
‘Rituals?’ he said coldly. ‘Like in the newspaper story, you mean?’
‘Don’t be deliberately stupid, Jacob. You know I mean what I do in the act. Not everything revolves around you, you know.’
Jacob kept hold of her other arm and stared at her with an intensity that made her squirm.
‘I only want to get some air.’ Ettie was doing her best to sound reasonable, but his expression was beginning to alarm her, and her wrist ached from his grip.
‘If it’s only air you want,’ he said, expressionlessly, ‘then let me go with you.’
‘No,’ she said. Her mouth was so dry, she could hardly swallow.
‘It’ll be getting dark soon. It isn’t safe for you to go out alone.’
‘Is anywhere safe?’ she asked, staring steadily back at him.
Quite suddenly, Jacob let her go, turned, and walked back towards the sitting room. Ettie paused for just a split second while she tried to understand what had happened to make him change his mind, then she spun round, grabbed the door handle, and ran down the front steps into the street.
Within moments she was leaning against the park railings panting, trying to regain her breath. ‘Sorry I was so long,’ she gasped, her chest heaving. ‘I thought you’d have gone.’
‘No,’ said Celia, shyly. ‘I would have waited all night.’
Ettie looked along the road back towards the house; Jacob had turned on the gaslights. ‘Let’s go for a walk, shall we?’ she panted.
‘If you’re sure that being out with me won’t get you in trouble,’ said Celia, following Ettie’s gaze to the house.
‘No. I’m all right. How about you?’ Ettie flashed another, this time more furtive glance at the house as they moved off.
Celia shook her head in reply.
‘Why did you want to see me?’ Ettie asked, her breathing coming more easily.
‘Because you said you would be my friend,’ said Celia plainly. ‘And you don’t seem to think I’m a fool.’
‘Why should I think that? And like I said, we all need friends.’
‘Even you?’
‘Why not me?’ said Ettie.
‘I thought that with your gifts you’d have all the answers, Miss Wilkins.’
Ettie hoped that the light cast by the newly illuminated gas-lamp they were approaching would not show her reddening cheeks as she blushed, shame-faced at her deceit. ‘Maybe I have, sometimes,’ she said, ‘but for other people. Not for myself, never for me.’
‘You’re troubled too?’
‘I suppose we all are, in our own way,’ said Ettie, stopping in the pool of yellow light. ‘But I’m not here to go burdening you with my worries.’
‘Please,’ Celia pressed her. ‘It would be no burden. I’d be honoured.’ She bowed her head modestly. ‘That, after all, is what a friend should do.’
‘Thank you,’ said Ettie, touched by her kindness. ‘But that can wait for another time. Now, have you thought about seeing a doctor? I could go with you.’
Celia let out a little gasp of surprise and turned so that Ettie could not see her face. ‘Would you come and stay with me for a while. I think that might help both of us.’
‘I’m the one who’s supposed to be able to read thoughts, Miss Tressing,’ murmured Ettie.
‘Call me Celia, please.’
‘Celia. You seem to understand that I wish to… well, not to be here at the moment.’
Celia shuddered. ‘The evening has grown quite chilly.’
Ettie took the shawl from her shoulders and draped it around Celia.
‘You really are the kindest person I think I’ve ever met,’ said Celia, turning back to face her.
Ettie cringed inside, thinking how she had duped the poor misguided young woman.
‘I really would like you to come and stay with me – if you wish.’ Celia stared down at the flagstoned pavement. ‘I’ve no intention of meddling in any way, but I couldn’t help but notice the atmosphere between you and the Professor this evening.’
‘I am going to tell you something, Celia,’ Ettie began.
‘Oh, forgive me,’ said Celia quickly. ‘I’ve gone too far.’
‘No. It’s not that. It’s something I’ve not really even admitted to myself until now. I’m reluctant to say it, but I have to. I think that I’m…’ She closed her eyes and formed the words in her head before she spoke them. ‘… afraid. Afraid of Jacob.’
‘Of Professor Protsky?’
Ettie nodded. ‘He’s got this secret. He was in some sort of trouble. In a foreign country. And he acts different sometimes, like a stranger.’
Celia replied with a steady, ‘I see.’
Ettie interrupted her hurriedly. ‘No, sorry. Listen. I shouldn’t have said that. Forget it.’ She began to fiddle with the locket chain around her neck. ‘I’m a bit wild with him, that’s all. We had a row and I made all that up.’
Celia shook her head. ‘You don’t have to worry about me, Ettie. I could see you were afraid of something. You see, I know about fear too. That’s why I offered you a place where you can be safe. I promise you: my home will be quite secure for the next week.’
‘I don’t know what to say,’ said Ettie.
‘Say you’ll think about it.’
‘But you don’t even know me.’
‘Look,’ Celia took a small pad and pencil from her reticule. Holding it to the light she scribbled a hasty note. ‘This is my address.’ She tore the top sheet from the pad and handed it to Ettie. ‘My father is not at home at present. He’s away on business for seven days. I’m there alone. Think about it.’
‘I came down to speak to you because I thought you needed my help, and all I’ve done is talk about myself and force my way into your life.’
‘Please, Miss Wilkins.’
Ettie held up her hand. ‘If I’m to call you Celia, then it’s Ettie, all right?’
‘Ettie.’ Celia smiled as she put the pad and pencil away. ‘Ettie, you don’t understand what it means to me to have your friendship. I won’t press you, but please, remember, I can think of nothing I’d like more than to have you as my friend. And I know that we can help each other.’
Ettie looked at the paper Celia had given her and frowned. ‘I must say I didn’t expect this.’
‘But you will think it over?’
‘Of course. Thank you.’ Ettie put the paper deep into her pocket then gestured back towards the house. ‘I’d better be going. I only came out for a moment.’
‘I understand,’ said Celia. She touched Ettie gently on the arm and then began to walk away. Suddenly she stopped and turned back. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I forgot I had it.’ She took the shawl from her shoul
ders and handed it to Ettie.
Ettie shook her head. ‘No. You take it. I’ll be back indoors in a minute.’
Celia’s face lit up as though she had been given some rich or rare treasure. ‘You are so very kind.’ Then she smiled and said, ‘I can give it back to you next time we meet.’
Ettie nodded. ‘Next time.’
She stood under the gaslight and waited until Celia had disappeared from sight. Only then did she reluctantly make her way back across the road. She stood at the bottom of the stone steps and looked up at the middle floor of the house where their rooms were. The lamps were now burning brightly.
She climbed slowly on to the bottom step and stopped, unable to summon the energy to go any further. She didn’t know what to do for the best. She knew she’d be grateful for a chance to get away from Jacob all right, just for a while so she could sort out her feelings. She wondered what it was that had made her begin to feel differently about him, uneasy in some way. She certainly couldn’t explain it tonight: her head felt as though it was stuffed with old newspapers, with all the stories running through her mind at once. Maybe she was just tired, she reasoned to herself, and what with what had happened in Whitechapel, well, that was enough to upset anyone. And then there was her mum to worry about… Ettie sighed loudly. Why did everything have to be so complicated, she asked herself? Perhaps a few days staying with Celia would be a good idea all round: she could straighten out what she wanted to do – in peace, away from work – and, at the same time, help Celia get herself out of trouble. In fact, that particular mess could be sorted out while Celia’s father was still safely away on his business.
Ettie grabbed hold of the iron handrail and dragged herself up the front steps. She could definitely do with a rest; she was exhausted but at least, she told herself, she should cheer up at the thought of being able to do something positive for Celia. She took out her key and fiddled around trying to find the lock. As the door creaked open, Ettie visualised the old woman she planned to introduce to Celia, and wasn’t so sure that her advice would be all that welcome once Miss Tressing came face to face with the realities of the trade of the back-street abortionist. Still, she thought, closing the door quietly behind her, Celia was more fortunate than most. At least she could afford to pay the grabbing old girl’s prices.
Chapter 31
‘I told yer over a week ago, when Polly got done in,’ Mad Milly hollered at the top of her voice, ‘why didn’t yer listen to me then, eh? Tell me that.’
The portly sergeant stood with his back to the bar, arms folded across his wide barrel of a chest, listening patiently as Mad Milly berated him for his stupidity.
‘I knew it was that Leather Apron all along,’ she went on. ‘I knew. That’s what I said to all the girls, wasn’t it?’
Nods of agreement came from all the brides who almost filled the stiflingly muggy little bar of the Frying Pan – this was too important for them to miss by being out looking for business.
‘Now Annie Chapman’s been done in and all,’ Milly continued, poking her finger a bit too close to the sergeant’s face. ‘And what did they find by her body?’ she asked, twisting round to solicit the support of the other women. ‘They found a bit of leather by her body, that’s what. So I just hope you’re happy.’
‘That’s right and all, you tell him, Mill,’ came the raucous voice of Florrie from one of the tables.
‘Ladies,’ said the sergeant wearily, ‘this “Leather Apron” business: it’s just another daft name the papers have come up with to frighten everyone. Just ignore it.’
‘Ignore it?’ boomed Milly. ‘There’s girls getting done in and you’re saying ignore it?’
‘I mean ignore all these stupid rumours that are doing the rounds,’ he responded, trying to calm their excitement. ‘One minute it’s a slaughterman, then it’s a seaman, and now it’s a leather worker. It’s all speculation. What we need is evidence, not gossip.’
‘You wouldn’t listen to us if we did have anything to tell yer,’ complained Milly, leaning menacingly towards the sergeant.
He held up his hand to quieten the racket which he knew of old could so easily get out of control. ‘All right, girls, all right, he shouted above the din. ‘Now, if you remember, Milly, a week ago no one would even give me the time of day, let alone talk to me. I popped in here to try and get some information the morning after Sarah Wilkins’ girl had been here. Remember?’
‘She’d gone off to work,’ Florrie butted in, pointing at Milly. ‘She wasn’t even here when Ettie left.’
‘Stop poking yer nose in, Flo,’ said the sergeant. ‘Or at least get yer facts right. Milly was in here when I turned up, right? Ettie Wilkins had gone but you lot was all here getting pissed as puddens, drowning yer sorrows.’
Milly looked away disdainfully. ‘Yer wanna talk to Sarah’s lodger,’ she hissed. ‘That one wears a leather apron for work.’
‘That’s right,’ Florrie agreed, nodding. ‘I’ll give yer that, Mill. He does and all.’
‘Daft cows,’ said Ada dismissively. ‘He ain’t been around for ages.’
‘Make me out a liar in front of everyone,’ shouted Milly.
The sergeant pressed on regardless. ‘Now, if I might continue, ladies. This here gentleman is one of the inspectors working on the case. Inspector Grainger.’
The inspector, who had until now been a silent observer, nodded to the women who sat drinking at the tables and beside him at the bar. ‘Ladies,’ he said, slowly casting his eyes around the over-crowded room. As he did so he wondered what use the women would be as witnesses. His first thoughts on seeing them as he came into the pub had been that they looked for all the world like garishly dressed puppies huddled together for comfort and protection. But he’d soon realised that he’d been wrong. They certainly weren’t puppies; more like lionesses from what he’d seen so far. He made a mental note to watch his step. It wasn’t his patch, and they all knew it: they could make things easy or very difficult for the inspector.
The sergeant’s thoughts were very different. He was a bit alarmed by the inspector’s apparent reluctance to speak. From experience he knew that, if you didn’t keep on at them, the brides soon lost interest and would all start chatting away amongst themselves or wandering off somewhere. ‘I want you ladies to help the inspector all you can,’ he bellowed above the increasingly loud murmurings. ‘Answer any questions he’s got for you.’
‘Well, I’ve got a question for him,’ yelled Ivy, getting up unsteadily from her seat next to Florrie.
Her boldness found much approval with the other brides: even though she was a new girl in Whitechapel, she was fitting in very nicely.
‘Yes?’ replied Inspector Grainger levelly.
‘Why don’t yer get out there and do what yer should be doing?’ she challenged him. ‘Go out and find the Old Boy and leave us lot alone to earn our living.’
‘Don’t panic, girl,’ said the sergeant coolly. He didn’t show it, but he reckoned that if the inspector knew what he was doing, he wouldn’t have to be wet-nursing him like this. ‘We ain’t nicking you, none of you; we just want to ask a few questions, that’s all. And get you to hand round a few of these here leaflets.’
Milly took the pile of papers that the sergeant handed her and looked at them suspiciously. She did everything but sniff them before she took one for herself and gave the rest to the other brides, who passed them round between them with much doubtful whispering and questions as to what the leaflets might possibly say.
‘What good are these bloody bits of rubbish?’ Florrie demanded, waving her sheet of paper at the inspector. Then she crumpled it into a tight ball and tossed it over her shoulder.
‘Someone might have seen something,’ said Inspector Grainger calmly. ‘And that “bit of rubbish” might give us just the lead we’re looking for.’ It was the first actual sentence he’d spoken since he’d arrived.
‘How many yer handing out then?’ demanded Milly.
‘
Eighty thousand,’ the inspector said, far too cockily for Milly’s liking.
Ada agreed with Milly’s opinion of the inspector. ‘Pity yer don’t spend yer time on the streets looking for him instead of spending money on bits of paper when most of us round here can’t read anyway,’ she barked, in her gruff, no-nonsense way.
‘Yeah. And if yer’ve got so much money to throw around, how about using some of it to pay for some decent gas lighting round here?’ said Ivy. ‘That’d be money well spent, that would. So’s we can feel safe when we’re working. Instead of having to walk about in the pitch dark half the time. And yer can’t see a bloody thing once that old fog comes up.’
‘Have you finished?’ asked the sergeant impatiently.
‘You let her have her say,’ said Florrie protectively. ‘It’s a bleed’n good idea she’s got there.’ She’d taken quite a shine to Ivy. She was a right little chatterbox, but she was bright and still pretty as well. Must be all that country air where she came from, thought Florrie, looking at her admiringly.
‘Yeah, a right good idea,’ someone near the door called.
‘Yeah, gaslights over all the arches,’ shouted Ada, getting into the spirit of things. ‘That’s what we want.’
Then Big Bella stood up ready to add her two pennyworth. But before she could contribute to the already almost unbearable noise level, the inspector turned round and put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. He stepped over to the bar as though he knew all along that this is what he would be doing. ‘All right, ladies,’ he called over his shoulder, ‘so who wants a drink?’
The women looked at each other. Silent signals rapidly moved between them, confirming that maybe they should give the inspector a chance.
‘A round of Satins with porter chasers?’ Bella asked no one in particular.
The other women nodded or muttered their agreement.
‘Right, you heard,’ she said to the inspector. ‘Get ’em in.’
Patrick shrugged helplessly at the inspector. ‘If you’re paying, sir,’ he said and began to pour what was to amount to three loaded trays full of drinks.
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