“How? When?” she managed to croak.
“Three weeks ago. Apparently the cattle got spooked and stampeded. Your husband along with another ranch hand were trampled.”
Maisie held the smelling salts under her nose and patted her head at the same time.
“The sheriff, from a town near where the accident happened, contacted me. The only comfort I can give you is that your husband received a decent Christian burial. His boss paid for it.”
She couldn’t cry for the death of her husband, she was all cried out because of Ma and the perilous position she was in.
“If there’s anything I can do, Mrs. Kirby….”
Unless he could find her a job and money, there was nothing he could do. “I’m all right, thank you.” Her voice was so husky and laced with tears it didn’t sound right.
Maisie flapped around like a mother hen. “You go home, dearie, and rest. It’s a dreadful shock especially for a gal in your condition.”
“You know about the baby?”
“Yes.”
“You read it in my eyes. Oh, Maisie.” Sobs rose in Claire’s throat and she swallowed them down. “What can I do?”
“Didn’t you say your brother-in-law was wealthy? Write to him.”
“I wrote when Ma died and he never answered.”
“This is his brother we’re talking about. Write to him, tell him what happened and beg for help. I don’t want to add to your worries, but I’m leaving here.”
“What?” Claire started shaking. What more could happen to her? Why did God hate her so much that he forced one catastrophe after another on to her?
“I told you the diner isn’t doing well, my lease is up in two weeks so I won’t be renewing it. They raised the rent too, because the tailor next door wants to expand into here, and he can pay more than me.”
“Oh, Maisie.”
“I feel bad for you and my regulars, but my daughter wants me to join her in Austin, so that’s where I’m heading. I’m going to be a grandmother, too.”
“I’m pleased for you, Maisie, you deserve it. You’ve been so kind to me.”
“I’ll write you out a good reference, that’s about all I can do, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t fret yourself, you’ve been a staunch friend and you’ve helped me more than you’ll ever know. I’ll write to Aaron. Under the circumstances I know he’ll help me. He’ll be devastated about Randy, he always tried to look out for his little brother.”
“You go home and have a rest, come back tomorrow.”
“No, I’ll stay. I feel better doing something and having company.”
“I understand, all right, we best get the customers fed.”
Most people would consider her cold hearted, cruel even. Her husband killed, and all she wanted to do was serve coffee, biscuits and beef steaks to the customers.
There was nothing for her in the cold, draughty room of the boarding house, except loneliness and despair. Loud wails had her dashing out into the diner. Maisie had obviously told Pixie and Trixie of her plans.
“Where will we go? Your biscuits are the best in Houston,” one of them cried out. Most times she couldn’t work out who was who.
“What’s wrong with you, Claire?” one of them asked.
“You look like death,” said the other.
“I just heard from the sheriff that my husband was killed in a cattle stampede and I won’t have a job once Maisie goes.”
“You could work with us.”
“No thanks.” The thought sickened her.
That night, shivering in her cold damp room, Claire wrote to Aaron telling him about Randy and her being with child, and begging for his help. She then crawled into bed, it was the best way to keep warm. She had kept Ma’s quilt and the only other thing of value, her treasured clock, which had belonged to Pa’s family.
How had she been reduced to this pitiful state? How could she bring a baby up in these conditions? If Aaron wouldn’t help she was doomed.
****
A month passed, Maisie had left and there was still no word from Aaron. Each day Claire trudged around asking for work, none was ever available. To pay last fortnight’s rent she had sold Ma’s precious clock and her wedding ring, and was living on stale bread and beans. Hunger and fear were constant companions, they dogged every waking hour.
The dreaded knock came, followed by the harsh voice of Mr. Percy. “I’ve come for the rent.”
She didn’t have it. Maybe if she pretended she wasn’t here it would buy her more time.
“I know ya there.”
On leaden feet, she shuffled to the door and edged it open.
“I don’t have it.”
“Tomorrow at eleven, either come to my room with the money or be prepared to spread ya legs for me.”
The man was a crude pig, who knew he held all the winning cards.
“I got plenty of others wanting ya room.”
“Please, have you no pity?”
“No.”
“My brother-in-law is sending me money.” She wanted to slam the door in his face, wanted to rip his mean, beady eyes out of his head. What was she going to do?
“Tomorrow, at eleven.” He stomped off.
If he kicked her out, and he would, she and her baby would die on the wintry streets. “Aaron, please send some money.”
Next morning, before the eleven o’clock deadline, she checked the mail. No letter from Aaron. In desperation, she dashed to the bank – no money there for her, either. If it hadn’t been for her child, she would have thrown herself under the nearest carriage.
****
If she lived to be a hundred, Claire would never forget her first sexual encounter with Mr. Percy after she had slunk up to his room. It was sickening, degrading, and if she wanted a roof over her head, she had to service him twice a week, three times a week if she wanted extra money for food. Vomit rose in her throat, luckily she never had much food in her belly these days, so if it did come up, there wouldn’t be much of it.
Still no word from Aaron. How could he be so cruel?
This one particular day she trudged back from job hunting and ran into Pixie and Trixie. They wore low cut gowns with matching cloaks, and surprisingly enough looked well, almost prosperous.
“Heard you’ve been servicing Mr. Percy,” one of them said.
Heat surged into Claire’s cold cheeks. “How do you know?” Humiliating and degrading enough to have to allow Mr. Percy to paw her. For other people to know, she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her.
Her head ached as did her stomach and feet. Weakness, sickness and loneliness almost overwhelmed her.
“You look terrible,” Trixie said.
Claire only knew it was her because she wore a pretty gold brooch with her name written on it in shiny red stones.
“That pig will end up killing you, if you don’t starve to death first. Come on, we’ll buy you something to eat.”
It was tempting to accept, being seen in public with two women who were obviously prostitutes was….Was what? Humiliating, degrading. She was no better than them, selling herself to Mr. Percy three times a week to keep a roof over her head and food in her belly.
“All right, thank you.” She followed them down a laneway. They walked slowly, as if they knew every faltering step was agony for her. A few streets away from the boarding house stood a small, shabby diner.
“Doesn’t look much,” Pixie said, “but the food is nearly as good as Maisie’s.”
The smell of sizzling beef steak and fresh bread almost made Claire drool. They sat at a table in the corner, no tablecloths, although the place seemed clean.
“Do you want a steak? Trixie said.
“I’d love one if you can afford it.”
“We can, we’re doing good now,” Pixie said.
“Oh?” They looked much happier than when they used to eat at Maisie’s.
“We’re living in nice rooms,” Pixie said. “We’ve got a benefactor, a rich bu
sinessman who wants us for his own exclusive use. We service him and no-one else now.”
Shocking as it was, Claire envied them.
“Why don’t you go to where we used to live? Felecia is nice.”
“Me?” Claire took a gulp of coffee and the steamy liquid burnt her throat. “Thanks, I don’t think so.” Working as a prostitute, she couldn’t do it. You foolish woman, what do you think you’re doing now?
“I’ve got a baby coming.”
“All the more reason to think about it, you’ll have two mouths to feed instead of one, unless you plan on dumping it at an orphanage,” Trixie said.
“It’s my dead husband’s baby, all I have left of him. I’d kill to keep it,” she went on passionately.
“Here’s Felecia’s address.” Pixie scribbled a few words on a piece of paper and handed it over. Claire shoved it in her pocket. She would never go there, of course, she wouldn’t.
After they finished eating they left the diner.
“Goodbye. Good luck.” The twins chorused.
“Thank you, I’m glad you’re happy where you are. Thanks for the meal.”
They sashayed off talking and giggling together while she traipsed back to her cold, mean little room.
That night Claire developed severe stomach cramps, served her right for being greedy and scoffing down so much food. A sudden gush of fluid between her thighs, had her crying out. God was punishing her still more. She was losing her baby.
“How much more am I expected to stand, God? Why do you keep torturing me? I’m not a bad person.”
There was blood everywhere. She managed to staunch the bleeding by rolling up a towel and jamming it between her legs. Sobbing in pain, whimpering in fear, she huddled in bed until sleep mercifully overtook her.
Next morning the stomach pains had subsided to a dull ache, the heavy bleeding had stopped also. She had almost hoped she might bleed to death, and leave this cruel world behind. A loud banging on the door almost split her aching head in two.
“Ya got the money?” Mr. Percy yelled. He knew full well she didn’t, it was merely an ugly reminder not to forget her duty to him.
“I can’t come tomorrow,” she yelled. “I’ve just lost my baby.”
“Too bad, you can pleasure me with your mouth.”
“Have you no pity?”
“Not when it comes to whores like you.”
“Please.” She hated having to beg. Time hung between them, ominous in its silence.
“All right, Thursday. By the way, it’ll be four times a week for the rent and two for the money.” He gave a cruel laugh. “You can have Sunday off. That ungrateful whore in room fifteen killed herself last night.”
“We had a deal.”
“The price has gone up. Take it or leave it.”
He stomped away, his booted feet echoing on the bare boards in the hallway.
Six days a week, she couldn’t face it, not for this damp, dingy place and a few coins to buy food. Pixie and Trixie looked contented and happy servicing their benefactor. They were obviously being well treated and paid.
She couldn’t believe she was thinking this way. How could she endure being violated so many times a week by Mr. Percy? Nothing any other man did to her, could be worse than that.
Her life was ruined. She had given her virtue away to Mr. Percy, lost Ma, Randy and her unborn baby. She had absolutely nothing else to lose. No decent man would want to wed her. Why not sell herself to the highest bidder and have a more comfortable life?
God and mankind had deserted her. Why shouldn’t she support herself in the only way available to women like her? She had only done it out of sheer desperation, but no pious person would take that into consideration.
No more would she have to endure Mr. Percy’s obscene demands. Once she recovered enough to get to the address the girls had given her, she would leave this awful place and never return.
****
The house Trixie and Pixie had told her about was a large double storied brick building with a porch wrapped around the front and two sides. A neat garden contained shrubs and several large trees. The winding path leading to the ornate front door was constructed of the same bricks as the house. Even on such a grey day, it was peaceful and attractive.
Her hand trembled as she banged the fancy brass knocker.
The dark skinned, attractive woman who answered smiled. “Are you Claire?”
“Yes.”
“Pixie and Trixie told me about your predicament. Come in. I’m Felecia”
“I….I….I’m interested in what they were telling me.” She swallowed convulsively. “About working here. I can’t stay at the boarding house any longer. Mr. Percy wants me to service him six days a week. I can’t do it. I just can’t, I’d rather die.”
Once Claire stepped over the threshold there would be no turning back. Tentatively, she took that step. A long hallway stretched out before her. The walls were painted pale blue, the fancy cornices in deep blue and gold. A subtle smell of lavender and beeswax polish wafted on the air.
“We’re looking for two or three new girls. Tell me your story.”
Over a cup of coffee, brought in by a middle-age woman, Claire told Felecia the whole sad, sordid story. She had no pride or reputation to protect, so honesty was the best policy.
“Your land-lord is a predatory brute.” The woman spoke well, looked kind of regal. “If you come to us, I can guarantee you will not be exploited or abused. My position here is to train new girls for a high-class establishment. Would you be prepared to move to New Orleans?”
“New Orleans?”
“You obviously have no family ties in Texas.”
“No, I don’t, not anymore.” Maybe a complete change would do her good. There was nothing keeping her in Texas. Aaron obviously didn’t care what happened to her, or even to Randy. His lack of regard was the cruelest betrayal of all. He had always looked after his little brother, so for him not to care now was devastating.
She was so beaten down, desolate and lonely she didn’t really care what happened next. New Orleans, New York or Timbuctoo, anywhere had to be better than here. Ma was dead, Randy was dead and her baby was gone as well. She had nothing left to lose.
“When can I start? Do I have to sign anything?”
“Yes, our boss requires you to sign a contract for three years work at any one of his establishments. At the end of that time you are free to leave or stay.”
“It sounds reasonable.” Who was the man? How many establishments did he own?
“It’s a legally binding document,” Felecia said.
“I understand.”
“I will not only teach you how to pleasure men, you will also need to know dining etiquette and other social skills.”
“Dining? Social skills?”
“Yes, how to use cutlery correctly, know which knife and fork is appropriate for each course you might be served. The men you will be servicing not only require a woman to ease their male need, they may want to take you to high class restaurants, the theatre or opera. They wouldn’t want people to think you are uneducated country girls, or city guttersnipes.
“I’m not uneducated.” Claire leapt to the defense of the way her parents had brought her up.”
“I’m not saying you are, remember, we are dealing with men who don’t want anyone to know they have a whore hanging on their arm.”
“I accept your offer, nothing could be worse than what I’m doing now.”
“Do you need to pick up any belongings?”
Belongings! She didn’t have any, had pawned everything except for the clothes she was wearing and one change of underwear. Her wedding ring had been the last thing to go in a desperate effort to stave off the inevitable, giving herself to Mr. Percy. She shuddered with revulsion and shook her head.
I understand. How would you like a hot bath and a little pampering? I can remember what it’s like to be poor and desperate, so I know what you’ve been through.”
“Yes, please.” She must have died and gone to heaven. Strange though, she couldn’t remember dying.
****
Claire followed Felecia into a room with blue and white tiles on the floor and walls. There was a white bathtub, several large china jugs with matching wash bowls, and an array of bottles filled with what looked to be fragrant oils by the smell of the place. A long table was covered with a pristine white sheet.
“Mai, this is Claire, who needs pampering.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mai.”
A woman with slanted, oriental eyes smiled. “Come, I will bathe and anoint your body.” She spoke softly in English with the merest hint of an accent.
“I’ll leave you now. Mai will show you where to find me when you’ve finished.
Mai tugged on a deep blue cord, and within minutes two dark skinned maids came in carrying buckets of steaming water, while a third girl struggled with a bucket in either hand, most probably cold water as there was no steam.
The girls wore long red shifts with matching turbans. Gold chain belts encircled their waists. They didn’t speak, merely nodded and smiled.
Mai poured oil into the bath then helped Claire into the warm fragrant water. She leaned back, closed her eyes and enjoyed this unaccustomed luxury.
“Whose house is this?” she asked Mai as the woman washed her hair with gentle hands.
“It belongs to Monsieur.”
“Monsieur who?”
“Just, Monsieur. I cannot tell you anymore.”
“Where are the twins now?”
Mai smiled. They live with a man who enjoys having two women in his bed at the one time, and he is prepared to pay handsomely for the pleasure they give him.”
Claire was glad the girls had found happiness. She inwardly prayed it would last.
Mai helped her out of the bath and dried her on soft white towels, before leading her over to the table to anoint her body with fragrant oils. Claire closed her eyes and inhaled the perfume of roses intermingled with lavender and a hint of spice.
Mai used long downward strokes over her back, buttocks and legs. She was gently rolled over, and the procedure repeated over her breasts, stomach and thighs.
Once this was done, Mai slipped a diaphanous, almost transparent blue gown over her head. It slithered down the length of her body until it touched the floor with a soft, almost inaudible rustling sound.
Claire Page 3