The Whitechapel Girl

by The Whitechapel Girl (retail) (epub)

  Bella looked across at May and raised her eyebrows knowingly.

  ‘It’s about having a wooden bench made, sort of in memory of Mum. May said you might be able to do it for me.’

  ‘Sure,’ Billy nodded. ‘Sure. Tell yer what, come with me now and I’ll show yer some of me wood.’

  Ada burst out in unseemly gales of laughter. ‘Yeah go on, Ett, go and look at his planks.’

  ‘Ignore her, Ett,’ said May, scowling at Ada. ‘You go with Billy and I’ll wait here for you.’ She paused, then looked up at her brother and added, ‘Then we can go and see me mum and ask her about you coming to lodge with us.’

  Billy broke into a broad, delighted smile. ‘You coming to lodge with us?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Ettie, smiling back at him.

  Billy nodded his head again. ‘Coming to lodge with us, eh? Right.’

  ‘Watch it,’ Ada said. ‘Yer’ll nod yer flaming head right off your shoulders if yer carry on like that. Go on, Ett, for Christ’s sake take him out of here and go and look at his wood.’

  The moment Billy held open the door for Ettie to step out of the pub into the cold winter air, the whispers started.

  ‘Looks like she’s come home for good to me,’ said Bella.

  ‘And it looks like they’re settled back together and all,’ said Ada. ‘I like to see things back to how they should be. It’s only right somehow.’

  Maisie didn’t say anything. She just grinned and looked totally chuffed with it all.

  ‘Mind you,’ said Ada. ‘Ettie wants to be a bit lively if she is interested. That young Ivy’s had her eye on your Billy lately.’

  ‘She wouldn’t stand a chance,’ said Maisie confidently.

  * * *

  ‘This isn’t the way to Reed’s,’ said Ettie, as Billy led her down a narrow, almost hidden cut-through between two of the tall, blank-walled warehouses in Hanbury Street.

  ‘I know.’ Billy turned to her and smiled and held up a key. ‘Wait till you see in here,’ he said, and stopped beside a peeling wooden door set in a soot-covered brick wall.

  He pushed the door open and ushered her into a big open space lit from three tall windows which lined one whole side of the room. At the other side stood a series of shelves stacked with wood of different lengths and colours. In pride of place, in the middle of the room, stood a large workbench. On the workbench was a beautifully carved and crafted chair.

  ‘I could make the rest of the set if yer like,’ Billy said, lifting it down for Ettie to sit on. ‘And a table as well. Round, square, whatever yer fancy.’

  She looked at him, puzzled. ‘What do you mean? I wanted a seat for the churchyard, not a dining-room set.’

  ‘I know, I’ll make a lovely seat for yer mum, you wait and see. And I’ll carve it all and everything.’

  ‘So what’s this for?’ She ran her hands up and down the smooth polished arms of the carver chair.

  ‘For our new home,’ he said, and began fiddling around with one of the planes that stood in a graduated line on the workbench.

  ‘Our what?’

  Billy went over to the wall and took down a piece of paper that was speared on a nail.

  ‘Look at this,’ he said, walking back to her, his head bowed shyly. ‘Mr Reed sorted it all out for me.’

  Ettie studied the crumpled sheet of paper. ‘It’s a receipt for the down deposit on the lease of a workshop,’ she said, looking up at him. ‘And the rooms above it.’

  ‘This workshop,’ he said proudly. ‘I’m setting up on me own. Me very own business.’

  Ettie didn’t say anything; she just stared at the paper as though it was about to speak to her.

  ‘Don’t be angry, Ett, I never meant to presume nothing.’

  ‘I’m not angry, Bill,’ she said slowly. ‘You surprised me, that’s all.’

  ‘I only put down the deposit. I don’t have to take the whole lot. Mr Reed explained it to me. I can just rent the workshop if I like. But I jumped at the chance when it came up a couple of weeks back. I’ve always hoped you’d come home to Whitechapel. And now you have and you’re looking for lodgings and everything. I thought I might as well…’ He levered himself up on to the workbench and said flatly. ‘I’ve messed this up, ain’t I?’

  Ettie stood up from the chair, went over to him, and gently touched his face. ‘You’re daft, you are,’ she said fondly.

  ‘Yeah, and I got some daft idea that you loved me,’ he said abruptly. ‘But yer did used to care for me,’ he said. ‘Yer did, didn’t you, Ett?’

  ‘Yes, Bill. And I still do care for you. More than care for you.’ She smiled gently at him. ‘I’ve always loved you, Billy Bury,’ she said. ‘Ever since we were a pair of snotty-nosed kids playing out in the court together.’ She dropped her chin and stared at the floor. ‘I just forgot for a while, that’s all.’

  ‘Do yer really love me?’ he asked, his voice full of hope.

  ‘Of course I do, Bill.’

  ‘But, by the sound of yer voice, not as much as yer do that Professor geezer, eh?’ He sighed loudly, folded his arms, and stared over his shoulder towards the tall windows.

  ‘Don’t start acting daft again, Bill.’

  ‘I know I’m not like him, Ett.’

  ‘No,’ she said softly, ‘you’re not. And I’m glad. It wouldn’t do for everyone to be the same. You’re a straightforward, honest, decent bloke. That’s what I love about you.’

  Billy swallowed hard. ‘And I love you and all, Ett. Yer know that.’

  ‘I know, Bill.’

  He jumped down from the workbench and looked at her expectantly. ‘So, what d’yer think then? D’yer think yer could live here with me?’

  Ettie turned away from him. ‘Don’t get carried away by what I’ve said, Bill, yer’ll have to let me think about it. I’m sorry, but I need a bit of time. So much has happened to me lately, I don’t want to make any more decisions without really sorting out what I should do.’ She walked over to the shelves and looked at the neatly stacked piles of timber.

  ‘But yer really will think about it, won’t yer?’ Billy said, going over to her. ‘You ain’t just saying that to shut me up, are you, Ett?’

  ‘No, Bill, I promise. I really will think about it. And don’t get me wrong, I’m really pleased, happy as anything, that you’ve asked me. But I don’t want to say I’ll do something then regret it, that’s all.’

  ‘I don’t understand. You say you love me, so what’s there to regret?’ Billy stood behind her and took her by the arm, trying to make her turn to face him.

  She pulled her arm free and said quietly: ‘I’ve been given the chance to get away from here, Bill. Right away. To really make a new start this time.’

  ‘What d’yer mean?’

  At last she turned to face him. ‘Billy. I’ve got the chance to go to America.’

  PART FOUR

  The New Year 1889

  ‘I didn’t think you two was coming,’ Maisie said, linking arms with Ettie. ‘Mum’s been making me come out here and look for yer every couple of minutes. Like a cat on hot coals, she is. What yer been up to – kissing and cuddling in that workshop of yours, Bill?’

  ‘Maisie,’ he warned her, ‘I thought I’d told yer about that big gob of yours.’

  ‘Come on, Bill, cheer up. And get a move on while yer at it,’ she said, shoving open the door to the Frying Pan. ‘Yer know how busy the pub gets on Old Year’s night. Mum’ll do her crust if we have to share a table with too many others. She’ll get the right hump and spoil everything.’

  ‘Aw yeah,’ Billy taunted her as he nodded towards his mother. ‘Just look at her. She’s well unhappy having to sit with all the girls. I don’t think.’

  Myrtle Bury was sitting at the corner table surrounded by Ruby, Ada, Big Bella, Mad Milly, Flo and Ivy. They were all laughing like they were fit to burst.

  ‘Aw, stop moaning, Bill, and go up and get us some drinks.’ May shoved her brother hard in the ribs, propelling
him towards the bar. ‘And see if Patrick’s seen that no-good Alfie of ours yet.’

  Billy rolled his eyes in reply.

  ‘Aw yeah, and see if yer can find our Tommy and have a word with him and all later on,’ she continued. ‘I’ll bet he’s out there in the street, hanging around, and getting up to gawd-alone-knows what sort of mischief.’

  ‘Blimey, sis,’ said Billy shaking his head. ‘Don’t your tongue ache?’

  ‘No, but me eyeballs do, having to stare at your ugly mug all day.’

  Ettie stood smiling happily to herself, watching them bicker. She’d been lodging with the Burys for nearly five weeks, and had grown to love the way they good-naturedly and constantly teased one another. They were a noisy, rowdy lot at times, arguing and shouting with the best of them, but they had a fierce loyalty that everyone in the court knew about and respected. But it was only since she’d actually lived with them that Ettie had seen just how intense, and impressive, their love for their family really was. Circumstances had meant that she had never known what it was like to have a proper family, not one like the Burys, anyway, and she’d come to cherish the closeness and affection they shared: it gave them the sort of strength she envied.

  ‘Squeeze up,’ she said to Bella, her gaze following Billy as he made his way through the crowd to the bar ‘Let’s get on the bench.’

  Bella moved over without stopping speaking for even a split second. She was telling Myrtle and the rest of them a long, complicated joke which had become even more convoluted when the punchline had completely escaped her. But it didn’t matter: her audience still found her performance hilarious, and wept with laughter as she screwed up her big, broad face trying to remember what happened next to the vicar and his teapot.

  As her friends hugged their aching sides, Ettie looked around at all the other people in the jam-packed bar. The faces she saw were optimistic, bright with hope that the New Year might just be better than the last one. And, as they had so often lately, her thoughts turned to the old woman she had met in the churchyard of St Jude’s. The more she had thought about what the woman had said about the poisonous effect of letting regrets gnaw away at you, the more it had made sense to Ettie. Over the weeks she had come to admit to herself that she did still have some regrets but, as they were mostly to do with events that had long-since passed, she couldn’t do anything about them, no matter how hard she wished otherwise. And, tough as it was, Ettie knew that, for her, the only sensible thing to do was to put them behind her and face to the future, not to the past.

  ‘Oi! Dreamer.’ Milly leaned across the table and poked Ettie on the shoulder. ‘Wake up. Billy’s brought us some drinks over.’

  ‘Ta, Bill,’ Ettie said, smiling up at him and taking her glass from the tray he held out to her.

  ‘How’s that fancy fellah you used to knock about with getting on, Ett?’ asked Milly, wiping the foam from the stout off her lips. ‘You heard anything from him?’

  Just as Milly spoke, Billy was taking a swig of beer and nearly choked himself. His sister and mum turned on Milly and flashed warnings with their eyes.

  ‘Shut up, Milly!’ Florrie hissed at her under her breath.

  ‘No, it’s all right, Flo. Leave her alone,’ Ettie said, glancing up at Billy who was standing, red-faced, next to her. “There’s no secret about it, Mill. You know he’s gone to live in America, don’t you? In New York?’

  ‘Yeah, I know that,’ Milly answered primly, pulling a face at Florrie.

  ‘Well, I’ve sold up everything from the place in Bow. And now I’m waiting to get a letter from him, with his address, so that I can get the money to him.’

  ‘What? All of it?’ asked Milly incredulously.

  ‘All of it.’

  The company sitting round the table, Maisie and Myrtle included, mumbled their surprise at such profligacy.

  Billy stood there, silently.

  ‘It’s his money,’ said Ettie firmly.

  ‘And you don’t need it. Not now you’ve got that job,’ piped up the usually tight-lipped Ruby. ‘Didn’t ever think that no one from Tyvern Court would ever get a job like that, and that’s the truth.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said May admiringly. ‘Fancy a friend of mine working in an office, eh? Yer should be well chuffed with yerself, Ettie Wilkins.’

  ‘And happy to stay where you are. More than happy,’ added Myrtle firmly.

  ‘I know yer old mum would have been well pleased to see yer doing so good for yerself,’ Ruby added, raising her glass to Ettie.

  ‘And seeing what a good girl she been to me and all,’ said Myrtle. ‘It’s like having another daughter about the place, it is.’

  ‘And a sister,’ said May, patting Ettie’s hand.

  ‘I don’t know how he could stand to leave yer behind, someone as perfect as you,’ simpered Ivy, flapping her eyelashes at Billy. Then she said slyly: ‘Or has he asked yer to go out to America to be with him, Ett?’

  Ivy’s crafty expression soon changed when Billy snapped at her: ‘Why don’t yer mind yer own business?’

  He swallowed the last of his beer, slammed down his glass on the table and went over to stand with the crowd at the bar.

  ‘Well?’ persisted Ivy, bluntly, ‘has he asked yer?’

  ‘Yes, he has if yer must know. And yes, before you ask, I have thought about it,’ Ettie said levelly, staring at her.

  ‘How d’yer mean, you’ve thought about it?’ Ivy exclaimed. ‘Yer must be mad. I know if I had the chance to go to America I’d be off like a shot.’

  ‘Bleed’n good job that’d be and all, if yer ask me,’ mumbled May. Ivy ignored her. ‘They’ve got gold mines out there, and all yer have to do is pick the nuggets up right off the ground.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘Easy as that and yer a millionaire.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve heard those stories,’ said Ettie, looking across to where Billy was hunched over against the bar.

  ‘Well, are yer going or ain’t yer?’ demanded Ivy impatiently. ‘Like I said, I’ve thought about it. Like I’ve thought about going to a lot of different places in my time.’ Ettie turned to look Ivy full in the face. ‘It’s easy going away, believe me.’

  ‘I do know,’ sniped Ivy, petulantly. ‘I did come here all the way from Essex. Remember?’

  ‘Well then, you should know as well as anyone, it’s easy going away but it’s not always so easy going back.’

  ‘What’s she going on about?’ sneered Ivy, mugging at Flo.

  ‘Why don’t you belt up, Ivy?’ hissed Myrtle. She had just been thinking how nicely things had been going between Ettie and her Billy during the past few weeks – just the way she wanted, in fact – and now this little madam was poking her nose in.

  ‘I was only asking,’ pouted Ivy. ‘What’s so special about her that she can’t even answer a straight question?’

  ‘Well, if you must know,’ Ettie began, ‘I’ve decided to…’

  But before she could finish what she saying, Ettie was interrupted by young Tommy Bury who came bursting into the bar waving a newspaper.

  ‘You,’ said Myrtle, jerking her thumb towards the door before he had the chance to open his mouth. ‘Out. Or I’ll call our Billy over to yer.’

  ‘No, Mum, listen. Please,’ he appealed to her excitedly. ‘Listen to this.’ He shoved in between Florrie and Ivy and spread the paper out on the table, balancing it precariously on top of all the glasses.

  ‘It’s about the Old Boy,’ he said, stabbing his finger at the headlines.

  ‘Aw no, not Jack the Ripper,’ wailed Ada, squinting at the words she couldn’t read. ‘I thought we’d heard the last of that bastard.’

  ‘We have,’ gasped Tommy. ‘This time he’s up to his old tricks in New York. Did this girl in just the same way as he did in all the brides round here.’

  Even though the room was stiflingly hot, Ettie shuddered. ‘Show me that, Tom,’ she said, taking the newspaper and folding it back on itself so that just the one story was visible. Quickly she scanne
d the dense fines of black print.

  ‘Looks like Tommy’s right,’ she said quietly. ‘The killings might have come to an end here in Whitechapel, but America had better prepare itself.’

  Tommy took the paper back from her and spread it out on the table again.

  ‘Fancy old Jack doing his dirty deeds in New York,’ said Ivy, running her fingers along the words, then looking up under her lashes at Ettie. ‘Makes yer go all cold, don’t it?’ She put her hand to her mouth and said sarcastically, ‘Here, didn’t you say that that was where your fancy man’s taken himself off to? He’s a Jew, ain’t he? A foreigner.’

  Ettie stared at her disbelievingly. ‘What’s wrong with people like you, Ivy? Can’t you just mind your own business?’

  The table fell into an uncomfortable silence, but they were soon back talking amongst themselves when Big Bella took some of the money from the kitty and dragged Ivy over to the bar with her to fetch another round of drinks.

  Ettie, however, didn’t join in their chatter. She sat quietly with her thoughts, telling herself that she wouldn’t let the likes of Ivy upset her or ever again make her think the foolish, prejudiced things that had once made her misjudge people and cause such pain. She’d learnt from seeing the tragic results of suspicion and doubt, and had become a wiser and, she hoped, a better person because of it. And she knew that, no matter what others thought, Jacob could not be a killer. He was a man with flaws, certainly, but a man who had been wronged. She had been disloyal to him once, betrayed him by doubting his word, but she would never do that to him again.

  Through her relationship with Jacob, she had found the wisdom to know that she could make a new life for herself, a good life; and where she had once thought that the only way to escape was to run away, she knew now that you could never escape from what was in your heart – she would always be grateful to him for that.

  ‘Are you all right, Ettie love?’

  Ettie looked up to see Myrtle frowning at her.

  ‘Yeah,’ Ettie said. ‘Just thinking, Myrt, that’s all.’

  ‘Right.’ Myrtle nodded, then stood up and hollered across to her son. ‘Billy, it’s nearly midnight, son. Get all us girls a little drop of something to see in the New Year. And get that paper out of the way, Tommy.’