The following afternoon, she snatched her hat from the coat stand and pinned it on her head in a haphazard fashion. Betsy was off to Seymour Street. She turned left down Renshaw Street, then headed up Mount Pleasant. It was a long uphill walk but she was resolute. She had to stop here and there along the way, she was short of breath and her cough was impeding her. Nevertheless, she was determined to make it.
Just before she left, she had ordered Freddie to stop out of the way and discreetly watched the comings and goings, although recently, there weren’t as many coming. They had lost two girls which would naturally make a difference, but Freddie had noticed that numbers were dwindling. With takings being down and having been arrested, things were not going at all well for the Hales.
For once in his life, Freddie decided to get a grip. He was determined in his quest to cut down on the drink and opium. Now more than ever he needed a clear head. He felt they were losing control. It was as though the powerless were becoming powerful and he didn’t like it one bit.
Betsy was now standing on the steps of Lily’s four storey house. It was an imposing end property on the corner of Copperas Hill, the biggest house in the street. Betsy tried to calm the anger within her before she knocked on the door. She was flustered and out of breath. The story she had been told was a little unclear. She wondered whether or not Lily really had bought the property. If it had been bought, Betsy couldn’t fathom how on earth she could have afforded it, unless, of course, she had robbed her. She imagined it would be pricey and beyond her reach, therefore she must have ‘dipped’ her. She was only sure of one thing, she was about to spoil Lily’s afternoon.
She had made Freddie repeat, exactly word for word what Maurice had said. ‘I believe that she’s acquired a property for herself, 55 Seymour Street.’
One thing was certain, Lily would be inviting men there whether it was rented or not.
The heavy knocker, the brass numbers and the letterbox were shiny. She pursed her lips as she was poised to give her the sharp end of her tongue. Betsy’s small hand grasped the knocker, her fingers were painful and knarled with arthritis. She gave three weak raps on the heavy black painted door. It was indeed a smart house, provoking an immediate feeling of resentment and jealousy from Betsy. In less than a minute Lily opened the door. She only pulled it slightly ajar, she was always cautious. She was clearly expecting someone else. Her ready smile soon contorted into a scowl. She was clearly most displeased to see the woman before her.
‘What the fuck do you want?’
‘You know full well why I’m here! I want me hundred quid!’ She demanded as she tensely wrung her hands. The sight of Lily made her feel a rush of anger from deep inside her.
‘A hundred quid?’ Get off my step and don’t come here again with your accusations, you old bag, go on get to fuck!’
‘So you admit it then? You red haired cow, you are a thief!’ Exclaimed Betsy.
‘This is a respectable neighbourhood and I’m not having this on my doorstep, get in here, you can stand in the hall.’ Lily hauled her in by the arm and shut the door. To a strong girl like Lily, Betsy was as light as a feather, as she dragged her in, her feet hardly touched the ground.
It was a narrow hallway and it took a few moments for Betsy’s eyes to adjust from the bright afternoon sunshine. Lily was amazed at how puny Betsy had become. This time Lily knew it was she who had the upper hand. Lily’s ramrod straight back made her tower head and shoulders over Betsy. She looked her up and down, then looked straight into her eyes. She was no longer frightened of this dreadful harridan who had bullied her and lived off her for years. She remembered how scared she had felt on the day she made her escape from Duke Street. She was afraid no more.
‘I’ll say this once and I won’t say it again Betsy Hale. Don’t you darken my door again, you old fiend, coming here with your accusations. You’ve been chiselling me for years and if either you or the other contemptuous rat ever come here I’ll pay someone to break your legs. Do you hear me? You’ve been breaking the law, selling the body of a child to dirty, filthy men. You are the vilest of the vile, the lowest of the low!’ Her voice was level, as she continued. ‘Have I made myself plain? If either of you come near me I’ll have the two you arrested or I’ll cripple the pair of you, whichever takes me fancy!’
Her message became even more chilling, ‘I’ll have your throats slit, you are villains who have lived off me for years.’ She slowly ran her finger across her throat, making Betsy gasp in horror. Betsy’s eyes were wild and bulging, she stepped back almost banging her head on the closed door. She grasped the latch, her fingers were trembling. Lily was smirking, enjoying seeing her squirm. Betsy wanted to make her escape.
Lily knocked her fumbling fingers out the way, opened the door and pushed her out into the bright sunshine. Betsy’s eyes were squinting in the day light. She stumbled down the steps and choked with fear. She was angry as she made her way back home at one point almost falling under a passing carriage. She never bothered Lily again. She was convinced that Alice’s disappearance had nothing to do with her. As for the money, Betsy had to put it under her foot.
It was the summer of 1900 in Aunty Margaret’s house. Margaret had gone back downstairs and had joined Jim in the kitchen. She was shortly followed down by Sophie who was dressed to go out. ‘You look very nice Sophie.’ Said Margaret warmly.
‘Thank you. I have to go out, I understand that I have an important assignment to fulfil.’
Margaret looked puzzled then Jim glanced at her with a look of reassurance. Sophie looked slightly impatient, then added, ‘I must go now.’ She turned and left, Jim smiled as he heard the front door click shut. Margaret was still perplexed and looked at Jim searchingly for an explanation.
‘Aunty, Larry will protect her. I know she believes, she knows the importance of her mission.’
‘I don’t know about that and I’m not sure that I follow you.’ Answered Margaret a trifle dismissively.
Margaret sighed as she reached for her sewing basket.
As Sophie stepped out, Aunty Margaret’s road was unusually quiet but something was amiss, this wasn’t the road she was in before. There were no children playing out and the pavement was free of people. There was an eerie silence. There were no horses nor carriages, no one was leaving nor entering the houses.
She felt totally alone… then the silence was broken by the sound of music and cries of excited people. The noise, in particular, the voices of children, became louder. The sound seemed to be coming from the end of the road, perhaps around the corner, but she couldn’t see anything. She began to walk towards the noise. In her new heavy clothes she felt slightly restricted, she was aware that she was walking more slowly than usual.
She felt the warmth of the afternoon sun on her face. She was intrigued and drawn to the music. The sound of the barrel organ became louder as she approached the end of the road. As she rounded the corner she stopped in her tracks and smiled. Amidst the music, yells and laughter, she saw a familiar figure. It was Larry.
Sophie was drawn towards him like a magnet, his powerful force seemed to envelop her. She had only just seen him in the mirror in Aunty Margaret’s house. She had seen him by her parents’ house in New Brighton and he had guided her onto the fairground caterpillar ride, twenty eight years in the future. Instinctively, she knew she could trust him.
The same throng of street revellers were with him, they were well dressed and looked happy. Then, she noticed another child in the group whom she had not seen before, she wasn’t with the other children in New Brighton. She was pretty, with fair hair, blue eyes. Sophie guessed that she was almost the same age as herself.
She was puzzled at first. This girl had a striking resemblance to her new friend Jim. ‘Could this be Alice?’ Wondered Sophie. Then it dawned on her that she had to be Alice, the sister who had been sold by their mother. The man with the top hat was smiling and nodding his head. Sophie felt he had read her thoughts.
He was be
ckoning her again, so she moved closer. He told her she had travelled back in time, back another thirteen years to a dark and dismal place. She then became one with the crowd she was drawn to.
‘Come with us. You will be safe with us! We need you!’ Larry stretched out his hands, his voice was strong and imploring. ‘When we arrive, I will tell you what has to be done.’
The dreaded day of the court appearance was fast approaching. Betsy had been in a foul mood for a couple weeks. On the day of the hearing she could hardly contain her temper. She was furious with Freddie, since the day he had been arrested, everything seemed to go wrong. Their cosy, debauched little world had been crumbling before them. Losing Lily was bad enough but the circumstances under which she had gone and the mystery of Alice’s disappearance was a raw nerve in her body.
Lou and Ellen tried to avoid her, they just got on with their business and kept a low profile. They had been slipping each client a sly note to let them know of Lily’s whereabouts. Lily was popular and they knew that their visitors would quickly be dwindling.
In the Boyle’s house the atmosphere was awful, Lottie had become even more unbearable to live with and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by the other women in the neighbourhood.
‘She’s got nerves her, you know.’ They didn’t care that Lottie could hear them. No one had any respect for the woman who drank herself into oblivion, the bad mother who neglected and abused her children. Sadly, in these separate territories assigned to poverty, it was all too common a tale.
The gossip from other women was always the same, ‘Well, she should stop her drinking then, she is a terrible mother.’ Lottie didn’t expect any sympathy, nor did she receive any from any soul around her. There were rumours that she’d sold her own daughter. People would talk and whisper allegations, from one end of the street to the other. No one believed that Alice had gone into service, but when it suited people they would turn a blind eye. Everyone had enough of their own problems, trying to survive and keep the wolf from the door. Most were scared of the police and authority. It was easier to do nothing. Alice’s disappearance had descended into a confusion of idle chit chat and innuendo. This narrow, mean, street was rife with rumours about the Boyles.
The only person who had ever helped Lottie was the kind pensioner who lived opposite. Sally was good to the children, she was benevolent. More than a good neighbour, she was like a grandmother to them.
‘I am going to clear this court!’ Bellowed the judge. It was indeed Judge Cuthbert Rees sitting as Stipendiary Magistrate.
‘The three wise monkeys.’ Thought Freddie cynically, as he stood in the dock with his co-accused partner in crime Mr. Charles Henry Boyle. In contrast to Freddie, Charlie was shabbily dressed. He didn’t have a suit to his name. The collar on his shirt was well worn and should have been thrown out to the rag and bone man years ago.
The only two people in the public gallery were Betsy and Lottie who were sitting as far apart from one another as they could. Neither of the defendants had a friend in the world. Both men knew that when you were in this sort of trouble all your fair weather friends would desert you, just like rats from a sinking ship.
Lottie had been given her final warning by the judge, she had been heckling from the public gallery. She was begging for leniency for Charlie. She had pleaded for the sake of her three children and the judge was running out of patience.
Freddie had seen him red cheeked before, he had enjoyed seeing his spanking spectacle. He recalled the times that Lily would whack his bare bottom in the front room. The landing spy hole had been crudely concealed with a picture. He would stand there looking, when of course, there was no one else around. He had seen this man at the mercy of a whore’s whip, at her whim he was naked and being caned. Many times he had left their brothel with a reddened, sore backside, hardly able to sit down in his carriage.
The judge was a different man today, his angular features were sharper and sterner than ever. His eyebrows were prominent as he was staring across the gloomy, dark panelled court room at Freddie. He was afraid of what was being written by the magistrates who sat either side of him. Their quill pens were scratching furiously. The two men had pleaded guilty.
Today, the judge’s role was reversed. He was now sitting in this elevated position, the ‘high and mighty’ judge was now so powerful. He could ruin him within seconds of wielding his gavel. Freddie was frightened. Judge Cuthbert Rees had the power to destroy him. He had never felt so small and vulnerable and wasn’t sure that this would go in his favour. In fact it didn’t appear to be going very well at all.
‘Mr. Hale, you, as the receiver of stolen goods, the said three bottles of gin, indirectly encouraged the thief.’ His penetrating eyes shot a look towards Charlie as though he were fit to burn. ‘If it was not for handlers there would be fewer thefts, there would not be so many thieves if there were no receivers.’ Beads of sweat began to appear on Freddie’s brow. This was not the outcome he had envisaged.
The judge carefully avoided any eye contact with the woman who stood to the left of the public gallery. Even if he had not recognised her, her profession was all too obvious. She was undoubtedly a whore house madam, her style of dress was a tell tale sign. Today, she looked calm almost dignified. The judge had every faith in her that she wouldn’t have an outburst, unlike the woman she shared a bench with.
‘Please, Your Honour, have mercy on my Charlie, he’s never done anything before, I’m sick and I have children!’ Pleaded Lottie. The blustery judge was not prepared to tolerate any more of her behaviour, he had ran out of patience. With force he banged down his gavel three times.
‘I have warned you before, Mrs. Boyle.’
‘Please!’
‘Silence in court, remove this woman at once, take her down!’ He spluttered, his face was red with anger. Within moments she was flanked by two policemen and was marched out of the court, crying and wailing on the way.
Lottie was thrown in the cells where she collapsed on the stone floor. She cut a pathetic figure and looked just like a bundle of rags, she was holding her stomach, crying out in pain. She was menstruating and needed some poorly cloths, when the policeman came in, he immediately thought she was ill.
‘Take the poor woman to hospital.’ He said as he shook his head, he felt genuinely sorry for her, even though she was the wife of a criminal.
Soon she was taken to the Royal Infirmary. ‘Best place for her.’ Said his colleague with a sigh of relief. They had more than enough to do without a sick woman screaming in the cells.
Meanwhile, in the court room, the judge continued his summing up. He was addressing Freddie.
‘I have listened to the evidence. You received stolen goods and had conspired to receive them. You had knowledge and belief that they were stolen. The clandestine meeting with your co-accused, a man you know full well to be an out of work docker, in the early hours of the morning leaves me in no doubt of your guilt. Therefore, you were not blind to the circumstances of your purchase.’
‘You have both pleaded guilty and this I will take into consideration. Frederick Reginald Hale, you are indeed guilty as charged and the sentence of this court is one year in prison.’ He continued, ‘Charles Henry Boyle, you are a common thief and your recklessness for selling these items in a dark city doorway for a fraction of their true value makes you equally culpable.’
The judge paused as he was interrupted by the magistrate to the right. There was a brief moment of whispering and deliberation. ‘The same goes for you, one year in prison.’
Again, the judge paused, ‘I haven’t finished yet, I have taken into account your circumstances. I also order that your children are taken from your wife and will be cared for by Dr. Barnardo Homes. Your wife is clearly unfit to look after them and judging by her outbursts in this court I conclude that she is over emotional and extremely unstable. I therefore order that she shall undergo treatment in a mental institution. She shall be taken to Rainhill Asylum to receive such treatment.’
Betsy gasped in disbelief. ‘How would she get her hands on Rachel and Ruby now? She would have to work fast. As for Freddie, ‘He could languish in hell!’
She had heard about Thomas Barnardo, the founder of this children’s charity. He stood up for the most vulnerable children. He set up the Ragged School in 1867 and rescued children sleeping in the street who were forced to beg for food. Betsy knew that there was help for such children, no child would be turned away by Dr. Barnardo. Time was of the essence for Betsy, she then rushed out of the Court in a lather, she was determined to find the girls.
Meanwhile in Circus Street, Lottie’s children were hungry, they were huddled together and sitting on the doorstep. Their bellies were aching with the pangs of hunger, making them feel even more frightened. They knew something bad was happening to their father. The girls understood the meaning of being sent to jail. Even worse, they were locked out of their home and their mother was no longer there.
The prisoners were taken down in irons. They had both got off lightly, particularly Freddie, the tariff for his misdemeanour could have been up to twenty years! The two men, who had in the past been partners in crime and useful to one another, now harboured a mutual hatred. Charlie felt safe in the knowledge that his children would be taken in by Barnado’s and as for Lottie he thought that the ‘Nut House’ was the best place for her.
Sophie felt safe with the rest of the children, the atmosphere was convivial and warm.
Larry spoke intently to her. ‘It is now 1887. You know what your mission is, two girls desperately need help. Be brave and show them the way to me. If you have lost us, just listen and you will hear my voice calling you. Go now, you must bring them to me, I can only help them if they join this troupe. There will be three but the boy won’t come, take a good look at the boy and remember him.’
A Wanton Tale Page 12