Lottie held her head in her hands and sobbed like a woman in the depths of despair.
Betsy, was totally dispassionate as she pulled out a fiver from her dress pocket. The tawdry deal was done, Lottie Boyle had sold her own daughter for five pounds. It was either that or the workhouse, she knew of many who had gone in there and never came out. That evil, towering place on Brownlow Hill was foreboding, Lottie had conceded to blackmail.
With a rustle of her taffeta skirts, Betsy abruptly left. The children, peering round the door were unusually quiet.
Betsy Hale was indeed an evil woman and the children’s own mother was equally bad. There was no thought for morality in her sea of despair, she felt there was no way out.
In the comfort of Aunty Margaret’s kitchen in 1900, Jim stared into the glowing embers of the range thinking bitterly about his long dead mother. She had been a flawed character. She was selfish and had failed to protect her children. He had mixed feelings about her which could turn from pity to loathing in seconds.
A victim of circumstances, Lottie had succumbed to the likes of Betsy. Jim’s thoughts were disturbed, he was still troubled by the indomitable figure of Betsy.
He feared for Florrie and now he had Sophie to worry about. ‘Worse still.’ Thought Jim, ‘Betsy was still at large plying her evil trade but maybe, Sophie had come to wreak some retribution.
Although Sophie was hearing a sad tale, she was keen to learn more. She went quiet as she reflected on the shocking story she had heard.
‘Sophie, to understand more, it is important that you hear the whole story of Alice.’ Said Aunty Margaret.
‘Yes.’ Said Jim, ‘Maybe it will help us all make sense of why you are here.’
Chapter 8
Find Alice
Lottie felt some relief when she returned to her house after seeing her sister Margaret. Jessie was tearful at first when she was told that she would be going to live with her Aunty Margaret. She had only been to her Aunty’s a couple of times, she remembered her comfortable house and thought that she was a kind lady. Although she would miss her siblings, especially Jim, she wasn’t sorry to be leaving neither the house nor her mother but, nevertheless, the thought of such a change upset her.
Jessie’s dislike, almost hatred of her mother was because of the effects of her drinking on their life. She had overheard the grown-ups talk about Alice. The drink loosened Lottie’s tongue. She had carelessly let something slip which had sparked all the spurious gossip that her older sister had been sold by her mother.
Alice’s leaving had been shrouded in secrecy. Although Jessie was only six, she was exposed to the harsh realities of life in her squalid community. She’d heard that bad men would pay money to harm young girls. This conjured up fear in her mind and that of her sisters, Rachel and Ruby. She didn’t understand what men did to them but she knew it was bad.
Recently, there had been an air of despondency in the house. Jessie had heard the terrible rows between her parents and knew that her father was going to be sent to jail. In some ways she thought that it maybe a blessing. The violence had often sent all four of them running for refuge to the lady across the street. Spiteful, older children in the neighbourhood had told them about the Workhouse. They had told them what it entailed and just the thought of it made all of them shudder with fear and dread.
Jim was forlorn when he learnt that Jessie was leaving. He knew he would hardly see her again when she went to Everton. To Jim, it seemed so far away and worlds apart from Circus Street.
‘Can I go with her Ma?’ He sobbed, as he clung to Jessie.
‘No.’ Was Lottie’s curt reply, ‘No you can’t, Aunty Margaret can only take one of yous.’
Betsy was brooding in the parlour, a third glass of gin in her hand. She was deep in thought about two things.
The loss of business caused by Lily opening her own bordello and more worringly, the news that Alice was missing.
She had threatened the other ‘trollops’, as she called them, but she had an idea they would help Lily to steal her clients. She was sure that they too, would eventually leave her.
It was Alice’s disappearance that concerned her. It wasn’t Alice’s absence that bothered Betsy it was the harm she might cause if she was to tell anyone of her experiences in her bordello.
She was paranoid that Alice was doing her harm. She envisaged that she was out in the town somewhere and might be loose with her tongue. She had read it in Alice’s eyes, that unforgiving look, bordering on hatred. Betsy knew that Alice had never got over her ordeal at the hands of Maurice.
Betsy was aware that she was breaking the law by selling the girl’s ‘youth’ to perverted men. This was not the first time that she had exploited under-age girls. Since the work of Josephine Butler and the subsequent increase in the age of consent, times and public opinion were changing. Betsy knew that Butler had even visited prostitutes in Brownlow Hill Workhouse in Liverpool. She believed that these women were exploited victims of male oppression.
Betsy had also read that the law would come down heavily on those who aided and abetted child prostitution. It was, though, a good source of income and not one she was prepared to give up easily.
Despite her concern, Betsy believed that she was a law unto herself. However, she was not a stupid woman and she faced the truth. It worried her that, if she upset the girls or if outsiders got to Alice and filled her head with this information, she would be finished. As cunning as she was, she knew that there was a grave risk that she could still fall into the hands of the police or be blackmailed.
‘If the ungrateful little cow opens her trap, I’m in big lumber.’
Freddie’s fate didn’t interest her, if the worst came to the worst, she had already formed a plan to blame him for the Alice affair.
Her introspection was disturbed by the creaking noise of the heavy front door opening. Lou and Ellen had returned with several bags of shopping. They were in good spirits, they enjoyed buying clothes and treats from the market. It had been a turn up for the books bumping into Lily.
Betsy stood up and swung open the parlour door. The girls weren’t expecting her to be in and were startled by her sudden appearance. They fell silent and stared at her scowling face. She ignored them and looked up and down the hall, worried that she couldn’t see Alice.
‘Where’s Alice, didn’t she go with you?’ Asked Betsy, her tone was suspicious.
‘No, she stayed here, she’ll be in fucking bed.’ Retorted Lou.
‘I’ll have none of that language here.’ Said Betsy. The girls turned and walked upstairs. Betsy shouted after them, ‘Been out buying for yourselves have you, self first, self last anything left self again, haven’t you bought your old Aunty anything nice?’
They didn’t answer. ‘Stupid old cow’s been on the drink again. Us selfish?’ Said Lou.
‘That’s a good ‘un coming from her.’ Added Ellen, as they giggled on their way upstairs. ‘What’s got into her. Unless I am mistaken she is trying to be nice.’
They entered the garret room at the top of the house. It was stiflingly hot as the sun had been beating down on the roof tops all day. They shouted down to Betsy that Alice wasn’t there.
Betsy was clearly on edge. A client knocked on the door and the girls were most surprised to overhear Betsy turn him away. Curious, they came down to join Betsy for a cup of tea in the parlour.
The girls had come back from their shopping spree in good humour but now Betsy had spread her black mood to them. The house was filled with gloom and despondency. At first, they thought that Betsy was concerned for Alice’s safety. A trifle surprised at her concern, they tried to reassure her.
‘Young girl like that out at this hour with no coat on, all her coats are up there.’ Said Lily, pointing to the ceiling. ‘Maybe she’s bought a new one.’
They had never seen her so preoccupied about the dangers to any one of them with clients, let alone their well being on the streets. It was clear that something el
se, more sinister, was worrying the old hag.
As the conversation progressed, they realised that Betsy was not thinking of Alice’s safety, she was only thinking of herself.
At ten o’clock, Betsy was relieved to hear the door go. She was convinced it would be Alice. Angry, she flew towards the parlour door already starting to admonish her.
She stopped abruptly, ‘Oh, it’s you.’ It was Freddie, clearly worse for wear. The girls made themselves scarce and moved to the back kitchen.
Betsy’s eyes darted around as they normally did before flying into a rage. Freddie reeled as he was on the receiving end of her tirade. From deep within her black heart, she spewed out obscenities and all her pent up venom towards Freddie. The loss of Lily and young Alice had left her with a bitter taste in her mouth.
She was certain that Alice would not be walking the streets at this hour. She imagined that her disappearance had something to do with Lily. Freddie was relieved when she flew into the back kitchen to face the other two. He would rather face jail than put up with this. He had a thick skin but this was too much.
‘You two were very thick in with that Lily, and I know she is a greedy bitch. I have an idea she’s selling that brat right now. I’ll find her, and if you two know anything, you’d better tell me now, d’you ‘ear?’
Her shrill and piercing voice sounded like a fish wife. All trace of her acquired cultured voice was gone. Her accent was strong and very Liverpudlian.
The colour drained from both of the girl’s faces, their expressions were serious. Both shook their heads, they were afraid of Betsy finding out that they had spoken to Lily, although they knew that Alice would not be with her.
Talking in their room at the top of the house, they were, also, genuinely concerned for the girl. They racked their brains as to where she might have gone. They talked long into the night and still had no answers. The only suggestion they could make would be for Betsy to try Alice’s mother’s house. They thought she might have gone home, but then again they knew that couldn’t be right. Alice had made it plain that she hated her mother.
Freddie snored like a pig all night, his sleep was heavy as the alcohol faded from his system. In the morning, he was more refreshed and was thinking more clearly. He recalled the conversation he’d had with Maurice. ‘Something about clowns and jugglers, street musicians, bah, I don’t know.’
‘Why are you talking to yourself?’ Asked Betsy.
‘Nothing, nothing, it matters not.’
‘Oooh, it matters not, who’ve you been mixing with then?’
‘Shut up you old cow, if I were you I’d get yourself down to the Boyle’s. Find some new flesh for the fine gentleman I have in mind, mark my words, you’ll find Alice down there.’ He was wagging his thumb in the general direction of the Boyle’s dwelling.
She clenched her fist tightly banging it down on the occasional table, all her bracelets rattled. She stood up and stamped her foot and stormed out of the house shouting, ‘Fuck off, Fuck off, all of yous! Never mind bringing us more trouble and we’ll talk later Freddie about your stealing.’
‘Did you hear that Lou? Sounds like Freddie’s been done for stealing as well. That’s why he’s been sneaking out in the dead of night, sooner we’re out of here the better. Let them rot in hell the pair of them!’ Added Ellen.
Betsy was heading towards Circus Street, she was anxious to find Alice. ‘Surely that’s where she will be if she hasn’t gone with Lily.’
Betsy didn’t have any friends, let alone anyone who might help her. She couldn’t make a big noise about this in the town. She had to be careful, mindful she was breaking the law. There wasn’t a soul in the world she could trust.
When Betsy arrived in Lottie’s street, she stood in front of number 10 and noticed that the house appeared quiet.
Lottie had dressed Jim as best she could and had sent him into town to pick pockets, he worked the town centre. He went where people were distracted by street actors. Their conundrums were political and smutty, satirical references to the Queen went down well with the gathering crowds. Tiny boys, who couldn’t have been much older than four year old Jim, performed with them. This all helped to distract the crowd. As the numbers swelled, Jim had soon pinched three shillings. He was quick and wily, his nimble fingers were perfect for the job of picking pockets.
Betsy soon discovered that Lottie’s girls were with the neighbour across the street, she saw a small face at the window. Lottie had asked her to mind them for the day. Betsy was tempted to go over to the girls to see if they knew anything, but she thought better of it.
Lottie almost expected the rap on the door. She was wondering when Betsy would pay her a visit. She knew that Freddie was in trouble as well as her Charlie. Eventually, she guessed that she would hear all about it from Betsy. Charlie, would, as usual, be sparing with the truth.
Lottie dreaded seeing Betsy again. In the past turbulent year, thoughts of Alice had occasionally run through her mind. Was there a small caring bone in her body? Any remorse that she may have had was clouded by her drinking. There was nothing at the end of a bottle but it drowned out and numbed all her feelings. When the other children asked her questions, Lottie’s burden of guilt just made her drink more.
It was as though the children had a sixth sense. Jessie’s curious blue eyes and quizzical expression had, at times, been too much for her. They seemed aware that something was wrong and their mother found their intuition unnerving. Lottie’s pangs of guilt would soon turn to agitation. She simply wouldn’t answer, she would walk out or go upstairs. The five pounds for Alice had long since gone and had done absolutely nothing to improve her lot.
Betsy stood on the worn out step like a menacing, pale and scrawny shadow. Her cheeks were sunken and her eyes were bulging. She was about to give Lottie a mouthful to scare her into telling the truth about Alice’s whereabouts. The bedraggled sight of Lottie with her grey pallor, dark rimmed and sunken eyes made her bite her tongue. She stopped in her tracks, realising it would be the wrong thing to do. She looked close to death. Her once lustrous blonde hair was now thin and peppered with grey.
Betsy was invited in and realised that Lottie was alone in the house.
‘Surely she would tell me if Alice had turned up.’ Thought Betsy. Looking around she gathered that Lottie was now even more hard up than ever and wouldn’t even be able to provide Alice with one good meal.
Besides, she couldn’t think, for the life of her, why the wretched girl would want to return to this hovel. ‘She’d have to be off her rocker to come within a mile of the place. I’ve spoilt that brat and she would never come back to this. Throw in a tadpole to catch a mackerel.’ Thought Betsy, she even managed a smile.
‘You’ll be glad to hear that your Alice is thriving well, she’s very happy with us Mrs. Boyle.’
Her emphasis was on the Mrs Boyle, she took pains to sound polite and respectful, even sincere. Lottie was confused, she didn’t trust the woman who she had hated since she was a child. She was wondering why she was being so civil.
‘I am glad to hear it, pity I haven’t seen her. It’s been a year now and she hasn’t been near her ol’ Ma, thought she would have come with a few shillings to help me out.’
‘Hasn’t she been back then?’ Asked Betsy feigning surprise.
‘No. Haven’t seen sight nor light of her, I was expecting her back long before now to see her ol’ Ma.’ Said Lottie bitterly but she was cautious, wary of the reason for Betsy’s visit. She didn’t want others, in particular this woman, knowing all her business.
Betsy’s thoughts then turned to Lottie’s husband. She could see that Lottie was worried.
‘Pity about Charlie, Lottie. Still, trouble blows over. You will owe me one after Monday week.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘When the two idiots go to court, you’ll see. I’ve got friends in high places. In future, tell that Charlie to keep away from us. Freddie buying liquor is finished do you hear?’ She war
ned. She looked at the squalor around her and became emboldened by her greed. Seemingly, casting her worry aside, Betsy added, ‘Then I’ll be back for your Rachel, there’s a situation going for a parlour maid in my fine establishment.’
Betsy snapped open her purse and pulled out a five pound note. She rustled the note and stepped towards Lottie. She stretched it straight and held it in front of the woman’s nose. The smell and the sight of the crisp large fiver was tantalising. She snatched it away from Lottie’s face and stuffed it back into her beaded purse, it snapped shut with a loud click.
‘I expect she and the other one have finished school now, eleven and twelve now aren’t they?’
Lottie bristled and unusually felt like fighting back. ‘Why? Who’s counting?’
Betsy was a little taken aback but continued, ‘I bear no malice, but that man of yours is far too careless, he’s a braggart. Tells too many people his business and he better not be letting on about mine. I don’t trust drunken quarrelsome thieves. I better tell you now, save you the humiliation, the pair of you are barred from the George Tavern.’ Then added, ‘I’ll be back after the court case.’ Her tone of voice was low and menacing.
‘An’ by the by, it fucking stinks in ‘ere.’ Now that was the real Betsy, she abruptly turned and left, slamming the ill fitting front door.
Lottie knew Betsy had the upper hand. She was desperate for the money but even more than anything, she needed help for Charlie. If he went away for too long, she’d be ruined. She desperately needed that five pounds for Rachel. She was aware that, even at her age, she may finish up trying to work on the streets herself. She was rapidly losing her looks and stood little chance of attracting men. For the unfortunate Lottie, the threat of the Workhouse was looming.
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