by Dilly Court
‘Good God. Miss Angel, what are you doing in a place like this?’
Chapter Three
FIGHTING AGAINST A rising tide of panic, Irene managed to control her instinct to struggle as she realised that her captor was none other than the young constable who had helped her take Pa home only that morning.
‘It was a mistake,’ she murmured, biting her lip.
Burton’s youthful features were creased with concern and he raised his arm protectively as a bottle flew over their heads and smashed into the wall. A shower of broken glass clattered to the floor with red wine trickling down the wall like a bleeding wound.
‘It certainly was,’ Burton said, swinging her off her feet and depositing her in the narrow hallway. ‘Let’s get you out of here, miss.’
‘No, thank you, Constable, but I’ll be all right,’ Irene insisted. ‘I can’t go without my friend.’
‘Some friend if he brought you to a place like this,’ Burton said, frowning. ‘I don’t think you quite understand, miss, but you could end up spending the night in the clink with the rest of the females, if you get my meaning.’
Irene glanced over her shoulder in time to see Gentle Annie butting a constable in the stomach while Fiery Nan struggled with a burly sergeant. For a moment it seemed that Nan was winning, but another officer grabbed her from behind and cuffed her wrists. It was so unfair, Irene thought angrily. She was torn between the desire to break free and rush upstairs to warn Arthur, and anger at the treatment of women who had been simply enjoying a social evening. They might not be angels and it was true that most of them had at one time or another had a brush with the law, but on this occasion it appeared that they were being victimised by an over-zealous police force.
‘This is all so unfair,’ Irene cried, angrily. ‘They weren’t doing anything wrong.’
Burton’s cheeks were suffused with a rosy blush. ‘A young lady like you shouldn’t mix with their sort. Let me escort you outside, miss. Please.’
‘But my friend won’t know what’s happened to me. He’ll be worried.’
‘Your friend will be up before the magistrate in the morning unless I’m very much mistaken. A night in the cells will hopefully make him think twice before he visits such a place again.’
Irene opened her mouth to protest but, without a by your leave, Burton tightened his grip on her shoulders and he propelled her along the passageway, past the foot of the stairs where the punters were being arrested one by one as they came down to discover the source of the uproar. ‘This is becoming a habit, miss,’ he said cheerfully.
As they reached the street door, Irene shook off his restraining grasp. ‘I can find me own way, ta.’
‘The inspector gave me my orders this morning. I was to see you safely home then and I know he would say the same now.’
She hesitated, torn between the desire to find out what had happened to Arthur and the longing to be as far away from this place as was possible.
Burton opened the door. ‘Shall we go, miss?’
With a final glance at the fracas ensuing in the hallway Irene had no option other than to follow him through the dark passage that led into Hanging Sword Alley and then into Fleet Street. It was raining and the gutters overflowed with filthy water polluted with horse dung. In the flickering lamplight, the cobblestones glistened with an oily sheen, and the thin soles of her boots slipped and slid as she tried to keep pace with the young constable.
‘What was all that about?’ Irene demanded breathlessly. ‘What right have the cops to arrest women who were just enjoying a peaceful evening out?’
‘It’s not for me to say, miss. We were just following orders.’
‘Well, I call it downright bullying.’ Irene shivered as the rainwater seeped through her thin clothes, and she sneezed.
Burton glanced down at her and his stern expression softened. ‘You’re soaked to the skin.’ He took off his uniform cape and wrapped it around her shoulders. The heavy garment was still warm from his body and it smelt strongly of wet wool and cheap pomade.
‘Why did you do that?’ Irene demanded, eyeing him suspiciously.
‘Just following orders, miss.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t want to get you into trouble with your boss, Constable.’
‘Don’t get the wrong idea, miss. The inspector is tough, but he’s fair. I won’t have a word said against him.’
Irene could see that it was useless to argue, and they walked on briskly and in silence until they reached the corner of Wood Street. She stopped and took off the cape, handing it back to him with a grateful smile. ‘I hope you ain’t too wet.’
‘I’ll soon dry out. Goodnight, miss.’
‘Goodnight, Constable, and thank you.’
‘I hope we meet again in more pleasant circumstances,’ he said shyly.
Irene angled her head, eyeing him with mixed feelings. He was a nice-looking young chap and kind too. Had the circumstances been different she might have warmed to him, but she could hear Pa’s voice in her head warning her not to trust a copper. It was a hard lesson, learned young, and memories of tonight’s fiasco were still fresh in her mind. She knew very well that Constable Burton was waiting for a word of encouragement, but she said nothing, merely nodding her head.
If he was disappointed, his well-schooled features did not betray his feelings; he saluted her smartly and hurried off with long strides in the direction of Fleet Street.
Irene let herself into the shop, locked the door behind her and tiptoed upstairs. The only sound in the darkened room was that of her father’s stertorous breathing and the occasional soft sigh as her mother moved in her sleep. It was cold, and despite the constable’s chivalrous act, her clothes remained damp. She undressed to her shift and climbed into her bed, but it was a long while before she succumbed to sleep. She couldn’t help worrying about Arthur and wondering what had befallen him after the police raid on the gaming club. Old man Greenwood would be furious if Arthur was up before the beak in the morning, and it might even jeopardise his journeyman examination. She felt her eyelids growing heavy and, with a deep sigh, she turned on her side and curled up in a ball.
Next morning, she awakened to find that her father was up and dressed, seemingly none the worse for wear. He chucked her under the chin with a disarming smile and announced his intention of going to Faulkner’s bath house in Newgate Street.
‘But, Pa. That costs money and we need food.’
Billy smiled benevolently. ‘Of course we do, my pet. And I will bring something back with me when I am bathed, shaved and fit to mix with society.’ He dabbed ineffectually at the patch of mud on his frock coat and sighed. ‘Goodness knows what happened to me on the way home last night, but I seem to have taken a tumble.’
‘It was the night before last, Pa. Don’t you remember nothing?’
‘Not a thing, my little cabbage. It’s all a merciful blank and I daresay is not worth bringing to mind.’ Billy took his battered top hat from the mantelshelf and rubbed it on the cuff of his coat before placing it at a rakish angle on his head. ‘At least I look like a gent, even if I smell like a goat.’ He reached for his silver-headed cane and tucked it under his arm. ‘There, now Billy Angel is ready to face the world. Give your mother a kiss from me, petal, and tell her I won’t be long.’
Irene was speechless as she watched him saunter out of the room, but at the sound of his footsteps on the stair treads she realised that once again Pa had neatly sidestepped all his responsibilities, and disregarding the fact that she was wearing nothing but her shift, she ran after him. ‘Pa, wait!’
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, turning his head to flash a questioning smile in her direction. ‘Yes, poppet?’
‘If you’ve got money, please let me have some so that I can buy food and coal.’
‘You know that I would give you my soul, my dear girl, but sadly I have only enough coin for a hot bath and a shave.’
‘But you said …’
He raise
d his forefinger to his lips. ‘Hush now, my dove. We don’t want to spoil a beautiful morning by a sordid argument about money. When I am fit to rejoin the human race, I will go to my club and collect a debt or two. We will dine like kings tonight. That’s a promise.’ He unlocked the door and opened it with a flourish. ‘Au reservoir, my cherry, as they say on the Continent.’
Irene opened her mouth to protest, but Billy had already departed, leaving the door swinging on its hinges. She shook her head, sighing with frustration. Pa was a trial and no mistake. Whatever money he had left in his pocket after his visit to the public baths would be earmarked for the gaming tables, and if his luck was in they would not see him again that day. She retreated upstairs to dress, moving about the room on tiptoe so as not to disturb her mother. Having knotted her hair in a chignon at the nape of her neck, she went downstairs to open up.
Outside the window she could see people scurrying along the pavements on their way to work. It was unlikely that any of them would stop to buy sauce or pickles, but she had to be ready to catch any passing trade, and she busied herself about the shop. Her thoughts returned to Arthur, and as she polished the wooden counter she wondered if he had been allowed to go free with just a caution, or whether he had spent the night in a police cell. She hoped and prayed for his sake that he had not, but she knew that there was nothing she could do except wait and hope to see him breeze through the door with a big smile on his face.
She dusted the glass bottles and jars on the shelves, and as there were still no customers she picked up a besom and began to sweep the floor. She was sweeping the dust out onto the pavement when Josiah’s smart green and yellow dog cart drew to a halt at the kerb. His storeman, Tompkins, who also acted as coachman when required, tipped his cap to her and tossed the reins to a small ragged boy, promising him a halfpenny if he held the horse. The child nodded his head and grabbed the reins whilst keeping a safe distance from the animal’s mouth, eyeing the horse as if he feared it might gobble him up. Tompkins climbed stiffly from the driver’s seat and let down the hinged tailboard.
Emily was attracting some curious glances from passers-by as she alighted from the vehicle. She laid one kid-gloved hand on Tompkins’ arm, keeping the other tucked inside a rabbit-fur muff. She smiled, inclining her head to acknowledge an old acquaintance as regally as if she were Queen Victoria herself. She sailed past Irene and entered the shop, but as soon as she was out of public view her smile froze on her lips. ‘Well? What have you to say for yourself, Irene Angel?’
Irene stared at her in genuine surprise. ‘What are you on about?’
‘Don’t act the innocent with me, Renie. You were seen last night, being dragged along Fleet Street by a police constable. As if Pa’s gambling habit wasn’t bad enough, now you’ve got yourself into trouble with the law. How could you do this to me?’
Irene closed the door so that a curious Tompkins could not hear. ‘I was not dragged along Fleet Street as you say. Who told you that?’
‘It was Ephraim who saw you, so don’t deny it. He had been doing business for his father in one of the newspaper offices and he saw you.’
‘Your nasty-minded stepson got it wrong then. I was being escorted home if you must know, for my own safety.’
‘For pity’s sake, why? Where had you been?’
Irene bit her lip; this part was not going to sound so good. She shrugged her shoulders in an attempt to appear casual. ‘It was all a misunderstanding. Artie took me to supper at the Old Cheshire Cheese and we went to a place he knows afterwards.’
Emily’s eyes narrowed to slits and her delicate eyebrows winged together over the bridge of her pert little nose. ‘What sort of place?’
‘It was a kind of gaming club.’
‘Women aren’t allowed in those sort of places. Even I know that,’ Emily said suspiciously. ‘No decent woman would be seen dead in a gaming hell.’
Irene hung her head. It was impossible to argue against the truth, and she could not meet her sister’s fierce gaze. ‘It was a mistake,’ she murmured.
‘This is worse than I thought,’ Emily snapped. ‘You were caught socialising with a gaggle of common prostitutes and dollymops. How could you be so stupid, Renie? If this gets back to Josiah he will be absolutely furious.’
‘Does he have to find out?’
‘I won’t tell him, but I’m afraid that Ephraim will take great pleasure in passing on bad news and then Josiah will be so angry. I just don’t know what I’m going to say to him.’
Irene could see that Emily was working herself up into one of her states, and she was stricken with guilt. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve upset you, Emmie, but you’ve got to stop worrying about us and think of yourself and the baby.’ Irene gave her sister a hug, and she pressed her gently down onto the one and only chair. ‘Now sit down and stop fretting. I doubt if your friend, Inspector high-and-mighty Kent, will even remember my name today. He’s got better things to worry about than a girl who works in a pickle shop.’
Emily smiled reluctantly. ‘I suppose you’re right, but I wish you would try to keep out of trouble, Renie. It makes things very difficult for me, and I just know that Ephraim and Erasmus spend their time looking for bad things to say about our family. They can’t forgive their pa for marrying me and now that there’s a baby on the way they are even worse. That’s another reason why I want Ma to come and live with me. You won’t try to stop her, will you?’
Irene saw her sister’s lips tremble and the tears sparkling on the tips of her long eyelashes, and she had not the heart to argue. She patted Emily on the shoulder. ‘No, I won’t, but you’ve got to stand up to those two bullies. Tell Josiah what they’re like and let him deal with them.’
Emily opened her reticule and took out a handkerchief. She wiped her eyes and sighed. ‘Josiah thinks that the sun shines out of their arses.’ She clamped her hand to her mouth and her eyes widened in horror. ‘Oh, dear heaven, it just slipped out.’
‘Spoken like a true Angel,’ Irene said, chuckling.
This drew a reluctant smile from Emily and she shook her head. ‘I only have to be back here for five minutes and I forget everything I’ve learnt. Anyway, I’m going upstairs to talk to Ma. Promise you won’t say anything to put her off coming home with me.’
‘I promise.’
Emily rose to her feet and she laid her hand briefly on Irene’s shoulder. ‘You ought to come too, you know. Leave this horrid little shop and let Pa look after himself. I love him as much as you do, but he’s a selfish man and he’ll never change.’
‘I know what he’s like, but he needs me, Emmie. I couldn’t just walk out on him.’
‘Suit yourself, but the offer still stands.’
Irene watched her sister ascend the narrow staircase with mixed feelings. She knew that Ma would be much better off in the Tippets’ house with servants to wait on her and good food in her belly, but it seemed as though her family was gradually disintegrating. Jim had been the first to leave home, and then it had been Emmie’s turn. If Ma agreed to go, it would leave just her and Pa, Irene thought sadly. The offer of a comfortable and easy life was tempting but she could not bring herself to abandon him. Pa was a child when it came to looking after himself; a charming irresponsible child.
She picked up the duster and began to polish the counter, straining her ears in an effort to eavesdrop on the conversation upstairs, but she could only hear the low murmur of voices. She couldn’t help wondering how Pa would react if she was forced to tell him that Ma had gone to stay with Emmie in Love Lane. It would be a temporary measure, until the baby was born. At least, that was what she would tell him. She hoped he would understand.
‘What?’ Billy cried, smiting his forehead with the flat of his hand. ‘My Clara has left me? Why would she do such a thing?’
Irene poured a generous measure of gin into a glass and added a splash of water. She handed it to him. ‘Drink that, Pa. I know it’s been a shock, but Emmie did it for Ma’s own good as well as her o
wn.’
Billy tossed back the drink in one go and held out the glass for a refill. ‘I thought you had no money,’ he said suspiciously. ‘How could we afford the booze?’
‘I took money from the till, and I bought us a pie for supper. We have to eat, and as to the gin – I thought you might need it.’ She handed him the stone bottle.
‘Hollands,’ Billy said appreciatively. ‘None of that jigger gin. You’re a good girl, Irene. But your sister is an ungrateful serpent. What right has she to spirit your mother off like that? You tell me.’
‘I did tell you, Pa. She’s in the family way and she needs Ma to keep her company and give her good advice. Emmie thought that a stay in Love Lane might help Ma’s rheumatics.’
Billy poured himself another drink, omitting the water. He drained the glass, frowning. ‘But what about my needs? How am I to manage without my little Clara?’
‘I’m here, Pa.’
‘Yes, you’re here, but it’s not the same. My luck will run out if your mother is not here by my side. We’ll be ruined.’
‘Don’t talk that way,’ Irene said, controlling her temper with an effort. ‘That’s just superstitious nonsense, Pa. Your luck is a fickle thing and it has nothing to do with Ma or anyone else.’
Billy eyed her speculatively. ‘Is there any cash left in the till, Renie? I could do with a stake for the game tonight.’
She was tempted to lie. There was a shilling left from the day’s takings. She had done well in the shop after Ma’s tearful departure, mainly due to a visitation from Fiery Nan, who had bought three jars of pickled walnuts, two jars of piccalilli and a jar of pickled lemons. These, she said, were for her nerves, which were all jangled up after being locked up in a cell all night when she’d done nothing to deserve such treatment. Gentle Annie was nursing a black eye, but the copper who arrested her would have sore ribs this morning, if not one or two of them broken, and Ivy had a handful of torn fingernails. They were all out of sorts and it was all because of an ambitious police inspector: Nan knew where to lay the blame for last night’s raid. There was, she grumbled, no justice in the world. Then Fiery Nan, having vented her anger, stacked her purchases in a wicker basket and had stomped out of the shop, leaving Irene breathless and even more worried about Arthur, from whom she had heard nothing. If she had not been stuck in the shop all day, she would have marched down to the police station in Old Jewry and demanded to know what had happened to him. As it was she had to be patient, and that was not in her nature.