The Whitechapel Virgin Page 17

  ‘So what are we going to do, just sit back and wait till it’s our turn?’ Annie directed her question straight to the Madame.

  ‘I think it best that you walk the streets in pairs. It seems that these women have all been attacked alone.’

  ‘I still think it’s one of those gangs?’ Tilly said.

  ‘They are not sure Tilly, but I am certain that detectives are working hard enough on the case every day.’

  ‘Not hard enough,’ grumbled Annie.

  ‘Did you witness anything last night when you were out Catherine?’ Madame asked.

  The other women all turned in her direction. Catherine turned crimson and sank back into her chair.

  ‘I… I saw nothing untoward.’ She lied, for she had heard the odd sound here and there on her way to his dwelling, and dark shadows had seemed to leap before her and behind her. She had kept her eyes focused on the ground, refusing to stop for anyone who might cross her path. ‘It was foggy I recall,’ she added.

  ‘Well I reckon it was a good time to commit a murder then, with that fog being low. The police should’ve seen it coming if you ask me, they had plenty of time to watch out for it,’ grumbled Tilly.

  ‘It is likely that police officers would have had difficulty in the fog, Tilly, we cannot blame them for the decisions made by some lunatic.’ Madame replied.

  ‘I say we all stop going out altogether, it could be one of us next, we really could all die.’

  Everyone turned to Lydia, horrified. Not least because the girl rarely ever spoke.

  Annie in particular frowned at her. ‘Pfft, and then what? Lose me weekly earnings? I’d perish one way or the other so I’d better chance it I say.’

  Nellie struggled to her feet. ‘I’ve come over all queer. I think I’ll lie down. Can’t handle this malarkey no more.’

  She began to walk off and Annie followed.

  Madame rolled her eyes. ‘I shall update you all as soon as I have more news,’ she concluded.

  Catherine exited the tavern deciding that she needed some air. Her head still throbbed and so a short visit to her new friend Lizzie might improve her mood.

  When she arrived Catherine solemnly filled her in on the past evening’s events.

  Lizzie’s expression became concerned. ‘Now I don’t care what you say, but if he left you half comatose in the square then you should have called the police on him. Some things just ain’t acceptable and that’s one of them, especially when there’s some mad lunatic on the loose,’ she said, furiously spooning flour into heavy iron weighing scales, and turning the room powdery white in the process.

  ‘But I would lose my position, you know that Lizzie.’

  ‘Hah, ain’t you fortunate that you didn’t lose your life,’ she said, puffing as she lifted the scales to empty the powdery mountain into a cloth bag.

  Catherine folded her arms defensively.

  ‘I came to you for support, not to be remonstrated.’

  Lizzie set down the scales and sighed. ‘I’m sorry luvvie. Look, I didn’t mean to shout at you, but gawd help us, they still haven’t caught that killer you know. It’s made everyone’s nerves hit the clappers. I’ve only just heard two minutes ago before you walked in this door that poor old Mrs Hains who lives on Buck’s Row dropped dead in shock when she woke up and heard about the victim. So what happens if you’re out in the street next time he’s about, and...’

  She saw Catherine’s face turning anxious.

  ‘Look, I just want you to be all right. I can’t interfere or tell the Madame to break your contract with Mr Cross, but it really isn’t safe to be walking out alone anymore.’

  ‘She has suggested we go about in pairs.’

  ‘Well there you go then.’

  ‘I know, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still deeply afraid to visit him.’

  Lizzie stepped away from the counter and laid a tender hand on Catherine’s shoulder.

  ‘I know, it’s a tough one, especially when he’s been offering double what you’d normally get at the tavern, and you’d not see a quarter of that wage down at any factory within a mile of here either. Ain’t he just showing off something rotten, but I bet he’ll probably tire of you soon enough and then maybe Davenport will let you go back to work with Tilly again.’

  ‘Oh what have I got myself into, I feel so humiliated.’

  ‘You won’t always feel like that and if he hurts you too bad then you have to tell Madame that you cannot do it. I don’t want to scare you nor put you into thinking this kind of work is easy, because bruises and rough handling come with the territory, but I still think your biggest concern now is that lunatic on the prowl.’

  TWENTY-THREE

  ‘By God that’s wicked,’ exclaimed Thomson as he feverishly read the last few pages of the manuscript. ‘A little on the thin side though?

  ‘Hard edit,’ replied Cross. ‘All the dull and unnecessary bits chipped away. It’ll be all the punchier for it.’

  Thomson slid the paperwork within his case and tightly snapped the lock shut. ‘Splendid. In that case I shall treat it like the Holy Grail.’

  He walked to the door and Cross followed opening it wide to let in the light. He cringed at the sudden glare, being lately unused to venturing forth by daylight.

  ‘I shall be in contact with any news as soon as I have it.’ By God you do look terrible,’ said Thomson noticing the dark shadows framing Cross’s eyes.

  Cross waved a hand dismissively. ‘I shall live.’

  ‘Lets hope that you do. We’d all hate for you to miss your own literary success.’ He rubbed his hands together enthusiastically.

  ‘But do try to catch up on your sleep, you look fit for a funeral pyre.’ He strode out of the door and down the street at a quickened pace.

  Cross let out a large breath.

  The inner frustration was growing by the day, and the frequent drinking bouts were inescapable. The exhaustion from a lack of sleep was also beginning to affect his judgement. There were many hours day and night which he could not account for.

  Somewhere in his mind he knew full well that he ought to watch his step carefully, for at the darkest hour he could feel his own mind escalating into a certain kind of madness.

  There would be questions raised if he failed to use all his powers of wit and focus. He had to keep it together or risk being detained, for there might arrive too many questions regarding Whitechapel’s prostitutes. Questions which he did not wish to answer.

  At the bottom of a solid wooden chest he kept hidden the rope. He now wondered if he ought to transfer the chest entirely to his warehouse, then he would not be able to access it when she visited.

  He recalled how Catherine had squealed with fear when he had brought it into view and how he had used all his power to hold back and not inflict too much injury on her. There was always the risk that she would complain to the relevant authorities, and that would do him no good at all.

  The very fact that she had escaped into the street after he had untied her angered him. He’d searched for her briefly but she had vanished, and he was reluctant to venture out and be witnessed chasing her, especially when he knew that she would travel beneath the brightest lanterns and avoid any darkened alleyways.

  To run after the girl would be a mistake he could not afford to make and a good part of him was furious with her. He longed to punish her for that action. To put his hand to her throat and silence her forever.

  “Troublesome damned harlots,” he said under his breath.

  Ruffling his hand through his tangle of hair he walked into his study and withdrew his original diary from the drawer. Leafing through it he produced a small laugh.

  Did that fool Thom
son really think that he was going to trust him with the best work he had produced this decade? Especially when he hadn’t been at all ready to unleash it to the world. He couldn’t let this original script out of his sight. Not now. Not until he had finished with each and every one of them.

  But still, if Thomson wanted to show it to potential publishers in the hope of making a sneaky buck or two he would have to do it with a very watered down version. A version which sadly lacked any real substance or intricate detail.

  Another knock on the door startled him and the stack of papers nearly scattered to the floor.

  Quickly he threw them back inside their hiding place and tiptoed back through the hallway, deciding that he might throttle the blasted housemaid for forgetting her door key again.

  He opened it fully intent on admonishing the girl when he stopped in his tracks.

  There on his doorstep stood an officer of the law.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  During the first half of the night she had dreamed of long-toothed demons and disturbing shadows searching for her within the back streets of Whitechapel.

  She had stumbled and fallen and then looked up in fear that Edward Cross had discovered her, but when the light fell upon his features she saw her father’s kind face smiling down at her, offering her his hand to assist her to her feet.

  More than once she had stumbled and each time it was her father who helped her, even though she could not remember exactly what he looked like, having only a grainy image of him stored within her memory. But she could not forget the overwhelming feeling of love which coursed through her each time she looked up at his face. A feeling of being wanted rather than discarded or abused.

  And each time she rose, again the demons and dark-shadowed figures hunted her down, until she felt certain there was little point in running away from them at all.

  During the second half of the night her mind slowed its frantic pace to embrace a calming silence and tranquility. Not a single sound could be heard in the street outside, not even the gentle rustling of a leaf.

  In those precious few hours she forgot her concerns, even the fact that she was determined to talk to Eddie again. Not only to find out how and why he had carried her home that night, but to reason with him in one last effort to re-establish their friendship.

  It would be necessary, she realised, to knock on his door at dawn, before he left the tavern to begin his daily tasks.

  When the church bells chimed the hour of six, she slipped out of her bed. After she had brushed her hair, pinned it back and dressed herself she left the room and slipped down the creaking stairs to his.

  She was pleased to see light beneath his door, and gently knocked. At first there was no sound from within, then she heard his voice.

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘It is me Catherine, may I have a few moments.’

  There was a brief silence, then the door was unlatched from within. He opened it and stared at her through a slit, with bloodshot eyes.

  ‘What do you want, Catherine?’

  She was relieved to see that his expression did not show the same degree of animosity towards her

  ‘I just wanted to thank you for assisting me when I…’ she paused uncomfortably, ‘when I made my return journey. I cannot exactly recall how you came to find me or where I was located.’

  His face betrayed no emotion. ‘It was nothing.’

  He made a gesture to shut the door again, but she barred him from doing so with an outstretched hand.

  ‘Wait Eddie. Please tell me, where was I? How did you find me?’

  He looked down. ‘If you must know I was about to leave The Horn and Plenty when I spotted you running past there close to midnight. I ran outside and called to you because you appeared distressed. You turned to look back at me, then tumbled and hit your head. I carried you back.’

  She realised her cheeks had grown red with the shame of her actions. ‘I cannot remember it,’ she responded, lowering her eyes.

  ‘But can you remember what he did to you, Catherine?’

  He reached out and touched her arm.

  ‘Is he really worth the money?’

  She pulled away. ‘It is just a position, and I am lucky to have one at all,’ she snapped, feeling the familiar flame of defence rising within her.

  ‘Your job was with Tilly, but you ruined that.’

  ‘No Eddie, this would have happened anyway. Madame would have had me as a dollymop no matter what I did, for she said as much. Do you really think she would have spared me for much longer?’

  She saw the hurt in his face.

  ‘You know, I really want to kill him.’

  ‘What? You can’t kill him, he is a different class of folk. You mustn’t talk like that, it’s madness.’

  ‘Is that because you care for him? Or because you would not wish to see me incarcerated?’ he challenged her.

  ‘Care for him I do not, but..’

  ‘But what Catherine? Ah.. of course you desire him. Yes I saw that, don’t fool yourself into thinking it wasn’t obvious. So tell me, did he finally get his way with the Whitechapel virgin?’

  She raised her hand and struck him on the cheek so suddenly that he reeled backwards. Then she fled back to her room without looking back.

  How dare he talk to me like that.

  It seemed that whatever she did to try to converse sensibly with him, he would do all he could to make her feel ashamed. She would have gladly told him that Mr Cross had not lain with her, but Eddie didn’t deserve to hear the truth. Maybe he didn’t deserve her best efforts at renewing their friendship either, driven as he was to punish her with such taunts and jealousy when all she could do at Madame’s lodging house was what had been expected of her all along.

  And he knew that! He knew that I would never remain a serving girl at the Boars Tavern, so why does it burn him up so much inside?

  Anger filled her as she pounded angrily at her pillow. Each punch aimed at releasing the frustration which had grown within her. It was then that she came to a ruthless and diabolical conclusion on the matter.

  She would continue to see Mr Cross, she would grit her teeth and play the role of a low class whore, and not a scared whimpering orphan girl. She would do it if only to show Eddie and Annie that they could not control her, or command her actions. Then maybe Eddie would kill Mr Cross as he had said.

  If that came to pass then she would not need to make any decisions for her future because she would be free from the clutches of them both.

  If one were dead and the other hanged.

  * * *

  ‘Oh I can’t do it again Annie, I can’t. I got them pains back in me tummy and legs and Mr Steele was rough with me last time. Ooh don’t pull so hard.’

  Annie released the pressure on Nellie’s corset strings and the woman sank down on the mattress. ‘And what if that lunatic is out again? Or them big gangs of killers whoever they are. I can’t bear the thought.’

  Exasperated by now with her moaning companion Annie struggled to pull on her own boots and lace them up. ‘You can’t go through life worrying about everything. How will we get by if we worry about every dark alleyway we come across?’

  Nellie shook her head, unconvinced.

  ‘Look, no-one’s been attacked in pairs have they? And we are going down to the docks together,’ Annie tried to reason.

  ‘What about Catherine Bell then? She ain’t got anyone to escort her. Lydia works on the other side of the city.’

  ‘What those little wretches do is their own concern. Don’t forget that Catherine’s had that swaggering flaunt escort her about in carriages.’

  ‘But Eddie brought her back concussed, saying she’d fallen in the
square.’

  ‘That’s because her gent’s throwing his weight on her. She must have run off. I must say, it takes me back a bit. How many beatings have we taken from drunken men over the years, Nellie?’

  ‘More than I can count. But that Mr Cross, I only ever saw him once or twice but he does look a bit odd when you think about it. He never quite looks you in the eye and he dresses a bit differently, what with his silk burgundy vest and tall hat. Do you think he might be – you know?’

  ‘Be what Nellie?’

  ‘The killer.’

  Annie thought for a moment. ‘Hmm I don’t think so Nell.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Well he looks too smart for one thing, and he’s in the mint with some inheritance from a rich uncle the last that I heard. There just ain’t no good reason why he would risk all that to butcher two of our own class. Nah, like I say, it had to be a gang or some kind of revenge attack.’

  Nellie shrugged and nodded. ‘I suppose you’re right, but what do you think Catherine Bell will do now?’

  ‘Oh I reckon she’ll try and gain support or sympathy from Madame, but you know what she’s likely to say. Anyway I couldn’t really care less if she was the next victim in the line-up.’

  Nellie looked up, astonished.

  ‘Oh Annie. Sometimes I don’t think I know you at all. When did you get so bitter that you’d wish that on an innocent girl? Have you no pity left in you?’

  Annie shrugged. ‘I pity no-one Nellie. No-one ever gave me a roof over me head when I was homeless did they? Or a morsel to eat when I had to chew on me own dirty fingernails to stop me-self from starving.

  And as God is my witness and you can swear by it, I’ve had to open me legs and shut me mouth up for twenty years just to stay out of that workhouse. It’s all of them stinking fiendish men who’ve turned us into what we are. And Catherine Bell can always walk away. Madame don’t hold no-one hostage in this lodging house, but she hasn’t left has she? Cause she knows there’s nothing better out there for her Nellie, nothing better at all, especially if she ain’t got no guardian to provide for her.’