A Wanton Tale (6 page)

Yours truly, Lily xxx

Lou and Ellen were elated, they already knew that she had designs on getting her own place but never believed she would do it. They thought it was all ‘pie in the sky’.

The only one who felt left out was Alice. She didn’t like Lily, although she hated it where she was, she had no desire to go to Lily’s establishment. In fact, she didn’t want to live with any of the women, she was heartily sick of them.

Lou and Ellen looked more like best friends than ever and excitedly got themselves ready to go out. They didn’t really want Alice with them and made it obvious. She felt she was a nuisance to them and when they were out she just looked like their little sister trailing behind them, so she stayed put.

The house was silent, it was the very first time that Alice had been alone. The silence was eerie and being on her own gave her time to think. She took herself down to the washroom and had a leisurely wash down. It was a warm summer’s day and she didn’t mind swilling herself with cold water. She didn’t feel like going into the greasy smelling kitchen for hot water. She lathered her face in fine lavender soap and today she was glad not to have to wear make up. Betsy insisted on it for most punters but others preferred her fresh faced. Alice couldn’t wait to wash it all off at the end of the day because she thought that powder and paint made her look old. It made her feel like a different person, someone she was not.

Despite her experiences, she was still only thirteen and in some ways she had a childlike outlook on life. She longed to be herself but she didn’t know who that self was. Her life before had never been happy. From a tender age, her Ma had sent her out selling firewood and fruit in the street in all weathers. Life was harsh and she felt hard done by. Alice knew that rich children had toys, she had seen them in shop windows, dollies, teddy bears and spinning tops. She looked longingly at parents with children getting into carriages with parcels, clutching purchases from the toy shops. She knew they came from a different world.

The quietness of the house was broken by the sound of voices and music. The noise was coming from the street. Alice had just finished dressing. The last thing she did was to snatch her Irish crocheted purse from her secret place under the mattress. Unlike the others, she never left the house without all her money. She hitched up her skirts and tied the long rope with tassels around her slim waist. When it became too heavy with shillings she exchanged them for notes in the post office and now there was one hundred pounds in the unassuming draw string purse.

Although eager to go out, she was drawn to the front bedroom, she could still hear music. She entered the room and walked to the window, unlocked the latch in the middle and heaved it open. The lace curtains billowed out in the gentle breeze. She looked down and saw a group of street entertainers making their way down the middle of the street. They were playing instruments. Over the various sounds, yells and calls, she could hear a harmonious concert of a barrel organ grinding out a tune.

A prominent figure at the front of the entourage attracted her attention. He was tall with wild ginger hair, he wore a top hat and a long cape. He was swallowing fire from a stick. Behind him were jugglers, acrobats, magicians, stilt walkers and walkabouts who mixed with the crowds shaking tins and collecting money. They were all heading towards the centre of town.

The man with the red hair finished his fire eating act to the whoops and cheers of the delighted crowd. He spun round, removing his top hat, bowing low to the people who lined the street. Unexpectedly, he looked up and caught Alice’s eye. From where she was standing, she could see the colour of his eyes which were a peculiar shade of green.

She was amazed at the spectacle before her, she had never seen such exciting people before, assuming they must be clowns. The sight of them made her smile. Alice knew that she had to go outside and get a closer look at the intriguing throng. She rushed down the stairs as fast as she could. The red haired man in the top hat was beckoning her, his expression was fixed like a clown’s as though he had been born with a smile on his face.

Alice felt she could trust him and moved closer. ‘Come with us. You will be safe with us. As she fell into step with the others, she heard him bellow over his shoulder, ‘I am Larry The Hat, The Street Fire King!’

Alice joined the group who were heading towards the crowds of the town.

L
ou and Ellen walked up Bold Street together, arms linked. They were deep in conversation, still talking about Lily and what her departure might mean to them. They were heading towards the tea rooms about half way up the street.

Their ‘town’ clothes were far more subdued than the revealing outfits they wore in Betsy’s. Their taste in fashion was a little common but, in a way, they fitted in with the elegantly dressed ladies and smartly attired gentlemen of the town. They wore their hats at a jaunty angle, their appearance had a slightly theatrical look which made them acceptable.

Lou’s billowing dark hair was neatly pinned under her hat. She pulled out a little mirror from her beaded purse to check her appearance before they entered the tea rooms. The bright summer rays made the mirror glimmer as she adjusted it. Much to her surprise, the reflection showed the striking figure of Lily walking into a bespoke furniture shop.

‘Look who I’ve just seen Ellen. Miss Crafty herself. She’s just gone in there.’ Lily spun round to face the shop, dragging Ellen with her.’ A passer-by who they jostled shot them a filthy look which was totally lost on them.

‘Who? Oh you mean the other one, our Lily!’ Ellen was excited. ‘We shall wait here ‘til she comes out, I must speak to her!’

They waited patiently on the pavement which was bustling with midday shoppers. Lily seemed to be in the shop for a long time and Ellen began hopping from one foot to another with impatience. They were both feeling thirsty and a trifle peckish, but it was worth the wait.

A conservatively dressed Lily eventually bounced out of the shop, the bell tinkled on the glass door, she firmly shut it behind her. She caught sight of her two friends who were standing opposite on the other side of the street. Lou and Ellen were a bit wary of speaking to her in such a public place, fearful that Betsy or Freddie might see them. There would be murder, a terrible scene.

Lily was pleased to see them and rushed over.

‘We found your note.’ Said Ellen.

‘Good, you have a lot to do. Make sure you bring the regulars with you, oh and by the by,’ she laughed, ‘Don’t bother asking ‘The Fat Man.’

Lou rolled her eyes, in understanding. She nodded her head towards the tea rooms. ‘We’re going in ‘ere, do you fancy a cuppa tea?’

‘Afraid not, got to get back to the house, having some furniture delivered. You
will
join me?’ Asked Lily, a touch anxiously, but her expression was warm.

‘We are and we’re made up for you Lily.’ Said Ellen as she squeezed her arm.

‘Good, and don’t bother asking the other little one, I don’t want the responsibility of her being under age like. I look forward to you both joining me.’ Said Lily as she was nervously looking up and down the street.

Still anxious not to be seen by the Hales, the girls were relieved when Lily turned away and bustled up the busy street. She was soon lost in the crowd as the other two sauntered quietly into the tea shop.

Betsy fancied a walk down to the Pier Head. It wasn’t her usual route in daylight but she just had to walk off her pent up anger and frustration. Lily had made a fool of her and she felt humiliated. She had designs on working it to her advantage, as it would make room for another young girl. Her corrupt mind was spinning with her next cunning plan, she was hungry for the money. She had designs on exploiting the next Boyle girl. ‘Rachel must be twelve now and I wager that Lottie Boyle’s got even less fucking money than she had last year.’ Thought Betsy deviously.

She went down School Lane, her footwear was highly unsuitable for the rough town streets. She insisted on wearing ridiculous shoes, her gait was almost comical. Many times before she had nearly broken her sparrow’s ankle as she had stumbled on the cobblestones. Today, she was trying to walk more carefully.

As she entered Lord Street, she found herself confronted with a happy gathering of street entertainers, jugglers and clowns led by a strange looking red haired man. The beat of the drum and the sound of a barrel organ, amidst the shouts of the children was a maddening racket in Betsy’s ears. Their brightly coloured costumes and painted faces were enough to give her a headache, she hated bright colours, noise and laughter.

‘What the hell’s going on here? Fucking stupid din.’ She muttered under her breath angrily as she became caught up in the entourage. Betsy hated clowning and frolics, she hadn’t had a proper laugh in her whole wretched life. She only ever cackled hideously and that was normally at someone else’s expense. This was at times when she had got one over on someone or at some poor soul’s misfortune.

A juggler dropped one of the balls. It rolled under Betsy’s feet. This made her launch into a bad tempered tirade at the man, at the same time she was trying not to fall. Fortunately, she didn’t recognise Alice who was walking alongside the juggler.

Today Alice looked different. Her head was bare and her hair was plaited, free of make-up, she just looked like any other thirteen year old. She glanced down to where the ball had fallen. Then to her horror she saw Betsy. Alice was thankful that she was wearing a new crimson dress that Betsy had not seen before. Even so, she gasped with fear when she heard Betsy’s shrieking voice…

‘Stupid sod, get that ball out of me way, get out of it!’ It was unmistakably Betsy in a tear, Alice had heard this tone of voice many times before and it made her fearful. One of the jugglers scooped up the ball from before Betsy’s feet. Sensing Alice’s alarm he put his arm around her waist and quickly led her to the front of the group where she blended with the others.

Betsy was seething with annoyance but soon shrugged off the disruption to her journey and continued her walk with a purpose. Her mind was fixed on nipping into the George Tavern. She wanted to see if she could spy on Charlie Boyle, to see if he had any work on. She imagined he’d be sitting there playing dominoes, idling away another workless day. If he was there, it would confirm her feelings that the Boyles were skint.

Her smoker’s cough was getting worse these days, especially when she had over exerted herself. It was a fair walk to the Mersey from Duke Street. Her lungs became irritated by the unaccustomed fresh river air as she approached the water. She coughed out a mouthful of dark stained phlegm into her clean lace handkerchief, she then stuffed it back into her skirt pocket.

She wore her hair in ringlets topped with a dated lace cap. Her puny, slight frame was swamped in black taffeta giving her the appearance of a wizened doll.

It had just gone one o’clock when she pushed open the heavy door of the alehouse. As she opened the door, she looked up at the stained glass window at the top, it depicted a colourful sailing ship. In her mind she wondered if she might find Freddie in the pub. He hadn’t returned that morning and The George was one of his favourite haunts.

As soon as the landlord and his barmaid looked at her, she at once detected hostility in their eyes and immediately felt unwelcome. As she walked towards them the landlord slapped the bar top with his hand and bawled, ‘You are not welcome in ‘ere you old bag, you’re barred. Get out!’

‘I haven’t come in ‘ere to be insulted, me and my Freddie spend all kinds of money in this establishment, I have never been so insulted in my entire life!’ Betsy’s voice was shrilly, she then started to cough uncontrollably, prompting the landlord to launch into a tirade.

There were a few men dotted around the pub sitting at tables engrossed in their chatter and dominoes, all fell silent and turned to watch the commotion.

‘Your slippery Freddie has been buying liquor off a thief, and the pair of them have been lifted this morning.’ He wrinkled up his nose, his language was as salty as the river. ‘What he and that Charlie Boyle do is their business but I will not allow any impropriety in my pub. And I’m not having his wife in ‘ere selling stolen goods. I know what your game is an’ all, you evil cow, you are exploiting young girls, I won’t have it. Listen to you, I will not have you coughing and spluttering your filthy germs amongst
my
clientele. Nor do I want you sitting on my chairs.’ He looked her up and down, he made her feel like dirt beneath his boots. ‘I’m not havin’
any
of it.’

Betsy couldn’t take any more of this onslaught, she turned on her heels and almost ran out of the pub, mortified and humiliated. She slammed the door behind her. Seething with anger she headed towards Cheapside Bridewell. The hapless pair would either be banged up or, by now, released on bail.

After a long wait at the police station, the portly desk Sergeant told Betsy that both men were out on bail. He was even more rude to her than the pub landlord. The blustery sergeant made her feel angry and her mood was raw. Her feelings were numb towards Freddie, she was as cold as ice. She had no empathy with him at all. ‘How can he do this to me? The stupid bastard!’ She shrieked. The sergeant had by now lost patience and told her to get out.

She composed herself and calmed down. Now unperturbed, she took off in the direction of Circus Street. Self-preservation was foremost in Betsy’s mind and the day’s events had strengthened her resolve. She wanted words with Lottie and Charlie Boyle but not necessarily in that order.

‘Fat heads, the two of them, him and that Freddie, I’ll bang their heads together when I see them for being so thick.’

Betsy hated walking through this litter strewn street, she could smell the poverty. The sound of crying children and barking dogs grated on her. She tried to hold her breath as she got a whiff of stale urine where someone had peed on the cobbles the night before. Nothing bothered Betsy, she was as hard as nails and now had the stomach for anything. She was just four doors away from number 10 when she began to hear shouting and bawling. Three young girls emerged from the house and scurried down the worn out steps. The steps had seen so many feet in and out over many a decade, they were bowed with wear.