by Betty Annand
When Gaylord said he paid for an entire night’s pleasure, Gladys knew her mother had betrayed her, and there would be no money for Toughie or her. Determined to avoid being raped, she looked frantically around the room for a suitable weapon while feigning interest in the landlord’s attempts to seduce her with false promises. She spotted the only large knife they owned. Unfortunately, it was also in Gaylord’s sight causing her to abandon that idea. She thought of making a run for it, but gauging the brute’s strength by his enormity, she knew she had little chance to reach a door before he could grab her. Finding a weapon would be her only chance of freedom, but there was nothing she could see that would do.
She was ready to run when he moved his bulk slightly, and she spied the big, grease-filled cast-iron skillet sitting on the stove behind him. Quickly, she devised a plan. Smiling invitingly at the landlord, who licked his fat lips in expectation, she walked closer and closer to him. When he reached out and grabbed her arm, she sat down on his knee. Suppressing a scream, she gave him a teasing smile and asked if he would like her to remove her frock.
“Oh, yes, yes indeed,” he hissed.
“First let me make you a little more comfortable,” she said as she rose and walked behind him. She began taking off his cravat and undoing his vest. He was just about to protest when she slid her hands down inside his shirt, and swallowing the sour bile that rose in her throat, she ran her hands over his chest. The obese landlord was moaning with such desire that Gladys knew she had to act fast or it would be too late. Suddenly she pulled her hand from his body, stepping back as she turned, grabbing hold of the skillet’s handle and swinging the grease-filled weapon with all her might.
The skillet hit the side of Gaylord’s head with a heavy, wet-sounding thud, knocking him off the chair and onto the floor. The blow jarred Gladys’s arms so painfully she lost her hold on the skillet, and it landed upside down on the top of the culprit’s bald head. The mixture of dirty brown grease and bright red blood oozed from under the pan, over his head and onto the floor.
At first, Gladys was in shock and could do nothing but stare down at the bizarre scene with amazement. Then, as she regained her senses, the bile she had stifled earlier returned, and without warning, vomit spewed out of her mouth on top of the skillet and the victim.
Her legs were shaking so much that she was forced to sit down for a few seconds as she managed to collect her thoughts. She knew she had to do something and do it before her parents returned. Her thoughts flew to Toughie, but she knew he would be sent to prison too if they were caught, and not wanting to cause him trouble, she decided she would make a run for it by herself.
In spite of her fears, Gladys managed to plan her escape with the shrewdness of a thief. She went into the junk yard and donned a ladies’ fur-trimmed cloak and bonnet that her father had collected from Warehouse Corner the week before and the only pair of ladies boots she could find. Returning to the kitchen, she forced herself to look down at the landlord and was relieved to see that he was still unconscious—or dead. She didn’t know which, but it no longer mattered.
Taking a soft leather purse from his cloak, she threw a handful of the bills on the table, uttering, “There you are, Ma. That’s enough for a whole year of bloody pork pies, and I hope you choke on them.”
She was rushing up the alley, trying not to tread in any of the filth in the street, when two young ruffians who were urinating against a wall, caught sight of her. Although it was a moonless night, they could see that the lady approaching was well dressed. “Hi, Rob, I bets she’s got a shilling or two for us.”
Gladys tried to run past them, but they were too quick. Pushing her against a building, one of the boys said, “Now let’s just see what ya got in your ’and.”
Afraid she would be found out if she called for help, she tried her best to hold on to the purse, but one of the boys twisted her arm as the other snatched it from her grasp.
“Ha! I got it Rob!” The words were hardly out of the boy’s mouth when he was struck over the head and the purse dropped to the ground. Both boys took off on the run when they saw their attacker was a man.
Mr O had been working late shovelling pig manure out of his barn when he saw the boys attack the lady, and he ran to the rescue armed with his shovel. He picked up the purse, but when he handed it to the lady, he realized that she was shaking with fright.
“Now, now, me lady, don’t you go a fretting. Sure and I’ve got your purse right here.” As he held the purse out to her, he bent down to see her face. “Jaysus! Gladys! What the devil are you up to?”
Gladys’s knees began to buckle, and she threw her arms around Mr O’s waist for support. The Irishman held the shaking girl tight as he tried to calm her down.
“Shush, shush now, me girl. Shush now!”
When Gladys regained her composure, Mr O suggested they go into his house so his wife could help sort it out, but Gladys began crying again and pleaded with him to let her go on her way. He was adamant in his refusal, so she had no choice but to make a full confession. When she was finished her story, Mr O didn’t answer for a moment, and her hopes for a rapid escape were diminishing. Shocked and disgusted with the Tunners’ heartless actions, he felt no sympathy for them. He also knew that Gladys would be incarcerated if found out.
“Well, Gladdy, I agree you have to leave Old Nichol. Have you enough money in that purse to get you anywheres? I’ve only got a few shillings, and that wouldn’t get you far.” When Gladys showed him the contents of the purse, he realized her chances were much brighter. “But I’ll not be letting you start out on your own. I’ve driven many a wagonload o’ manure past a coach-house not far from here, an’ I’ll walk with you that far at least.”
As they were walking, Mr O wished he had some sagacious advice to help the poor girl in the days ahead, but he had no idea what to say. Finally, he offered, “I think you’ll be fine, me girl, as long as you says your prayers every night.” Then he couldn’t help but think to himself, Maybe it’ll do her more good than it’s ever done us.
It took them a half hour’s walk, and they didn’t arrive at the coach-house until midnight.
Gladys had a hard time keeping up with Mr O’s long strides because the boots she was wearing were two sizes too large. Although the inn where the coach station was located was closed, there was a waiting room adjoined to the building, and a schedule was tacked to the door.
“There’s one leaving for somewhere called Dover at four in the morning. That’s not long, Mr O, so don’t you worry about me; I can wait alone. You had better go home, or Mrs O will be worried.”
He was reluctant to leave, but he knew she was right. Giving her a hug, he promised to tell no one of her whereabouts. “An’ don’t you worry about that landlord feller. Sure an’ if he’s dead, your folks’ll have him stripped down and be selling his togs in less than an hour. And if he’s still alive, they’ll do ’im in so as to avoid dealin’ with the law.”
Gladys pulled his head down and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll never forget you, Mr O.”
Taking hold of one of her hands, he placed an old coin in it. She tried to protest but he insisted, “Tis only a piece o’ ‘Gunmoney,’ Gladdy. That’s an Irish half crown. Old King James had a lot of them made, but they’re not worth a twig now. This one, and one other I has, been in my family for a couple o’ hundred years, an’ I wants you to have it so you won’t forget us.”
With that, he turned and walked away. As she watched him disappear down the road, she realized that he was probably the last person from Old Nichol she would ever see. She didn’t even try to stop her tears.
Chapter Five
The wait seemed endless as Gladys paced back and forth in front of the inn. The building, in total darkness, appeared devoid of life and offered little comfort. Intermittent clouds obstructed the moon’s light and cast ominous shadows causing her to jump at every little sound
. Then, just before four o’clock, she breathed a sigh of relief when an elderly gentleman carrying a lantern appeared from the back of the building and opened the door of the waiting room.
It was as cold inside the building as it was outside, but the light from the lantern the old man placed on a small desk seemed to add warmth. Gladys felt a little more relaxed as she sat down to rest on one of the benches. Surprised to find such a pretty young lady waiting outside by herself, the watchman couldn’t curb his curiosity. As he busied himself with the lighting of a pot-bellied stove, he began asking questions. Gladys kept her head down and only answered with small nods and shrugs. After a time, he decided that the poor soul must be thick-headed and let her be.
Even with the growing warmth of the heater, she soon found the wait almost unbearable. Every minute she expected someone to arrive, grab her by the scruff of her neck and haul her off to prison. She had almost decided that it might be far safer to escape on foot than risk waiting any longer, when she heard the coach approaching.
She hurried outside to watch it pull in, but as it drew nearer, she could see that instead of the coach, it was just a small chaise. Returning to the waiting room, she peered out the grease-coated window and watched as the driver hopped down from the seat. Oh, no, she thought, putting her hand over her mouth to stifle a moan of despair. The man was a constable.
She lost all hope and hung her head submissively, thinking the police must have caught Mr O and made him tell. Although she knew it was senseless, she kept her head down to hide her face and failed to notice that the constable wasn’t alone. When she heard him enter the waiting room and say, “There you are,” she looked up ready to beg for mercy. The relief she felt on discovering that his words were directed to an elderly lady and not at her was so physical as well as emotional that she couldn’t stop her hands from shaking, and had to hide them inside her coat.
The constable put the lady’s valise down on the floor and with a tone of affection said, “Thank you so much, Mother. I don’t think Iris could have managed the baby and Simon without your help. You must be tired out.”
“Don’t you worry about me; I shall sleep all the way home. I usually do, you know. Now you had better be off down to the station. I shall be just fine,” she replied. They embraced and he left. Gladys felt too emotionally drained to fully appreciate the reprieve. The stage coach arrived shortly after.
Two gentlemen who were already aboard were sitting across from one another, but when one of them realized that the two oncoming passengers were women, he thoughtfully gave up his seat and sat beside the other man. Gladys stared at the driver in shock when he told her the price of the fare then quickly tried to cover her surprise with a smile as he looked at her suspiciously and hesitated before taking her money. I must contain my emotions from now on, she thought, no matter how costly things are.
As she followed the elderly lady into the coach, she noted that the accepted greeting seemed to be a mere nod which suited her just fine. She had never been inside a coach before and found it far more luxurious than she had imagined. There was a sweet smelling essence that she couldn’t identify, and it appeared to be coming from one of the gentlemen. For a second she didn’t know why the odour disturbed her because it wasn’t terribly unpleasant, but then she remembered that most of the men who came to Old Nichol to collect rent had smelled the same. It was said that they doused themselves in perfume before entering the slums to overpower the smell of the open sewers and garbage.
Gaylord was wearing a strong scent when he had arrived at her house the previous night, and although the gentleman sitting across from her emitted a far subtler essence, it still made her feel a bit ill. But not long after they left the station, she noticed another familiar odour. This one came from the leather upholstering that lined the coach, and it smelled enough like Knickers’s old harness to make her surroundings seem less formidable. Her thoughts surged and as they left London, the joy she should have felt over her escape was overshadowed by the thought that she would never see her beloved Toughie again.
The constable’s mother, true to her word, was soon nodding off. Both men seemed to be enjoying a nap as well since their heads hung down and swayed from side to side along with the motion of the coach. For two hours they rode in darkness and silence, except for the rhythmic clomping of the horses’ hooves. Although she was exhausted, thoughts of her unknown destiny kept Gladys wide awake.
She had no idea what the place called “Dover” would be like, but hoped it was nothing like Old Nichol. Sally had said that all you needed to get along outside of Old Nichol were good manners and proper diction, but she could tell by observing the obvious confidence and refinement of the lady who was sleeping beside her, that her friend was mistaken.
Even in her sleep, the woman had her small gloved hands folded neatly on her lap and her ankles daintily crossed, as though posing for a portrait. Wearing no stockings, Gladys felt naked in comparison, and her gloveless hands felt as though they were as big and rough as Mr O’s. Mile after mile, her feelings oscillated between trepidation, excitement, loneliness and depression. Then, as the morning dawned, she became so enchanted with the passing scenery that her fears and doubts were forgotten.
The sky became clearer and more blue the farther they travelled away from London, and the scenery exceedingly more beautiful. They passed mile after mile of lush green fields scattered with fat cows and shiny-coated horses, and all the pastures had tidy, clipped privet-hedges defining one from another. She saw one or two buildings that were so grand she thought they must belong to either the Queen or some other royalty. But the ones that looked the most inviting were the picturesque, little thatched-roofed cottages. Some had stone paths adorned with colourful flower borders leading to the door and resembled the pictures of the houses she had seen in the Grimm brothers’ book.
The children she saw playing in the yards were all rosy-cheeked, and the dogs playing with them appeared far fatter and happier than the half-starved dogs in the ghetto, including My Dog, and she knew Toughie made sure he didn’t starve. Thinking of Toughie and My Dog almost set her mood back on a glum road, but the passing countryside was so breathtaking that she couldn’t be sad. She felt as though she were travelling through a surreal, but glorious, dream world. Never could she have imagined that such places existed, and she found herself thinking how fantastic it would be to grow up in such a place and how wonderful it would be if old Knickers could spend even one day in those green, grassy fields. She thought that he just might eat so much he would burst.
__________
Around midday they came to a little hamlet with a scattering of small cottages. Stopping at an inn that also served as the station, they were allowed to stretch their legs, buy refreshments, and make use of the outhouse. Gladys had never been to a proper eating establishment, so was relieved when the elderly lady offered to share a table. The woman must have been as thirsty as she was because she asked the barmaid if they could have two tankards of water instead of ale. Although it was an unusual request, the girl obliged.
Remembering the fetid water in Old Nichol, Gladys just intended to wet her dry lips, but the water the barmaid brought had such a sweet and delectable taste that she didn’t put the tankard down until it was empty. Then she suddenly realized that the manner in which she had gulped the liquid was anything but ladylike. Glancing around the room, she was relieved to see that no one seemed to have noticed except her companion, who politely, remarked, “It is so nice to have sweet water again, isn’t it?” Not waiting for an answer, she added, “That is the only thing I dislike about visiting my son. The water in London is simply undrinkable. Shall we ask the girl for another glass?”
Gladys said yes, determined to sip the second one as daintily as did her companion.
Sitting across from the woman instead of beside her, Gladys now had a better opportunity to study her face. She decided that the lady looked exactly like a gran
dmother should look. Her wrinkles were all in the right places to show that she laughed a lot. But it was her eyes that Gladys liked best. They reminded her of Sally’s even though they were different in colour. Gladys felt she could trust the woman since she hadn’t asked too many questions or looked at her accusingly. Gladys had never thought what it would be like to have a grandmother since she had never met one. Few women in Old Nichol lived long enough to have such a title. But if she could have one, she’d want her to be as kind and thoughtful as the constable’s mother.
The lady had also taken note of the young girl’s appearance, and her perceptive appraisal would have sent shivers up Gladys’s spine. Not only was the lady’s son an officer of the law, but her husband had been one as well, and throughout the years, she had become almost as astute as they were at sizing up people; therefore, she had little trouble deducing that Gladys was a runaway, especially when the station of her departure had been so near Old Nichol. She also noticed the girl’s bare legs when they got off the coach. She felt sorry for the child since her son often talked about how horrible life was in such places. A wave of compassion overcame her and she smiled warmly and held out her hand. “We haven’t been properly introduced, young lady, so I shall do the honours. I am Mrs Rutledge.”
Gladys, embarrassed over the poor state of her hand, blushed as she offered it; then, managing a weak smile, she answered, “My name is Gladys, ah, Gladys Tweedhope. Pleased to meet you, mum.”
“Gladys is such a pretty name. It has a ring of gaiety to it.”
“Thank you, mum.”
“You are very welcome, my dear. Now, what do you suppose they have for us to eat?”