The Whitechapel Virgin Read online

  Catherine peered into the darkness, listening intently, her mind still groggy and confused. Filled with curiosity at the voice she slipped out of bed and opened the door a crack. Only the ticking of the hallway clock could be heard as she checked left and right and saw nothing in the darkness beyond. Muffled sounds came from beyond the door opposite hers. Tiptoeing across the hallway she gently turned the handle and found it unlatched. Mustering up courage she guided the door open a fraction.

  Inside, moonlight bathed the room from a curtain-less window. The dark form of a woman lay on a bed where her knees appeared to be drawn up to her chest beneath a flimsy sheet. As Catherine’s eyes adjusted to the vision she saw another woman stooping over at the foot of the bed. She was horrified to see that she appeared to be handling the woman’s private area.

  ‘Do it now Nell, push it out,’ the woman at the end of the bed ordered.

  Catherine jumped in alarm, taking in a sharp breath. The woman at the foot of the bed swung her head around to face the door.

  ‘Who is there?’ she demanded.

  Catherine shrank back in an effort to conceal herself within the darkened corridor, but it was too late, the girl charged across the room and threw the door open wide.

  ‘Who are you?’ she demanded, grabbing Catherine’s arm with a blood-stained hand.

  Catherine opened her mouth to speak but found that she could not think of anything appropriate to say.

  ‘Tell me who you are?’ she ordered again.

  ‘My name is Catherine. I arrived tonight. I was awoken and I did not mean to see...’ She lowered her head in resignation, confusion and exhaustion taking its toll.

  The woman glared at her before pulling her inside the room and slamming the door shut.

  ‘So you’re a new girl then. Well now that you’ve seen us you can stop snivelling and be of some use.’

  Giving Catherine a hard shove inside the room, she pointed to the corner. ‘Put that pile of soiled sheets inside the pail until we dispose of ‘em.’

  Catherine stood paralysed, convinced she was now caught in some horrifyingly bad dream.

  ‘Do it NOW, we don’t have much time,’ the woman ordered again, turning to continue her activity at the foot of the bed.

  Rasping accelerated breaths came from the woman lying there. ‘Annie.. ooh Annie it hurts so much,’ she groaned.

  ‘It’ll be over soon Nellie, but you need to push now, just get all your strength together and push it out.’

  Catherine became suddenly aware of what was happening and resisted an urge to run.

  Nellie gave a horrible unearthly squeal then bore down with force.

  ‘Good girl Nell, catch yer breath and do it again one last time,’ Annie said.

  The woman gripped either side of the mattress and let out a pitiful wail, raising her head in the effort.

  Catherine put her hands to her ears at the unbearable sound, then released them again to hear a horrible plopping sound.

  Annie lifted something out from beneath the sheet.

  It was a tiny baby, hanging limply in her hand and covered in a yellowish film of grease.

  The stench hit Catherine’s nose and her stomach rallied against it. Bile rose to the back of her throat and she swallowed it down, trembling with fear. She wished not to view the unsightly lump of flesh and tried hard to avert her eyes elsewhere whilst the poor woman on the bed lay motionless, oblivious to her presence.

  Annie cast the fleshy object into another pail half-filled with bloodied water. It sank quickly with a plop. She then rinsed her hands in the same liquid.

  ‘Don’t trouble yourself. It was already dead,’ she told Catherine without a trace of emotion in her voice. ‘We must dispose of it now before Madame sees it,’ she said heading for the door. ‘Follow me.’

  Catherine obeyed and picked up the pail of soiled linen, whilst Annie carried the other which contained the lifeless little soul.

  They walked half way along the corridor and came upon a side exit which Catherine had not previously seen. It opened up to an alleyway below, and the bitter air which swept in made Catherine shiver in her flimsy gown.

  They were standing at the top of steep steps. Annie stepped on to the ledge. The hollow sound of a dog barking could be heard somewhere in the distance.

  ‘Hold on to the railing as you go down. Whatever you do don’t fall, Lord knows, I don’t want any more blood on me hands tonight.’

  Catherine followed, wondering if what she had just witnessed had been a dream, or truly real.

  It must be a dream. It is far too gruesome to be real.

  They reached the bottom of the dark alleyway below. A scrawny cat curled up in front of a rotted wooden door arched its back as they approached.

  ‘Psst, scarper off,’ Annie whispered, and the cat hissed in reply before scampering away.

  The woman unlatched the door and opened it to emit an obnoxious stench from within, one quite unlike any other Catherine had ever smelt. She leaned inside and tipped the pail above a hole in the ground. The water containing the greyish lump fell inside making a deep plopping sound.

  ‘Now pass those sheets over ‘ere,’ she instructed Catherine, who watched in silent disbelief as Annie twisted all the soiled bedclothes into one bundle and threw them into the hole too.

  ‘Madam would have me head clean off if she saw that, but there ain’t enough time to get em cleaned up proper tonight,’ she said, shutting the door and closing the latch.

  The woman turned to face Catherine where her features became more apparent in the pale light cast by the moon. She was not fair of face, Catherine thought to herself. Her mouth seemed naturally down-turned with deep wrinkles either side making her appear permanently disagreeable. Her long nose lent her an austere expression, and several grey wisps tumbled out from dark hair that was held tightly in a bun. She was old, perhaps in her forties, but Catherine could not really tell.

  ‘Now you carry one pail back, and I’ll take the other,’ Annie instructed.

  They proceeded back up the stairs, Catherine now shivering intensely with the shock and discomfort of standing idly in the cold air.

  Back in the safety of the lodging house corridor, Annie took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. ‘May God ‘elp us all,’ she whispered. She turned to look at her innocent accomplice, shivering in her gown with the pail held loosely in one hand.

  ‘Give us that ‘ere. Now, you didn’t see anything there tonight did ya? If Madam Davenport asks you what you saw, what are you going to tell her?’

  She gripped Catherine’s forearm and held it firmly, causing her to squeal in the semi-darkness.

  ‘I saw nothing, nothing at all,’ she stammered in response.

  She had no idea who Madam Davenport was, let alone felt any need to report the incident. She merely wished to return to her quarters where she could try to forget the event which had just taken place, try to erase the revolting images which had now been so cruelly etched into her memory. How or why this had occurred she had no wish to find out but it was enough to fill her with disgust. Tomorrow she would seek a new place to stay, far away from Annie and Nellie and the awful goings-on at this particular lodging house.

  ‘Good. Go back to your room then,’ Annie ordered, ‘and never let me hear you breathe a word of it to anyone.’

  She released Catherine’s arm and re-entered her own room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

  FOUR

  ‘Miss, are you awake?’

  It was a male voice and she recognised the caller as she tried to rouse herself from sleep.

  ‘It’s me. Eddie.’

  She lifted her aching head from the pillow and blinked for a moment, unsur
e of her whereabouts. Her thoughts instantly returned to the previous evening. She grimaced as she looked down and spotted a small smear of blood on the sleeve of her gown.

  Hiding her arm behind her back, she rose and opened the door to peer at Eddie through a small gap. He stood alone bearing a small tray with some nourishment.

  ‘I thought you might be hungry. Would you like a slice of bread and tea?’ he offered.

  ‘Thank you, but I will dress first,’ she replied, quickly closing the door again, though it seemed not to have bothered him that she wore her nightgown.

  She dressed hurriedly, shoving the soiled gown in her case, and noticed that not a sound could be heard from within the room opposite when she re-opened the door to let Eddie inside.

  He carried the tray over to the small dresser by the window and set it down. The early rays of sun which penetrated the curtain cast a warm glow to his face and Catherine could not help but stare at his strong, angular features.

  ‘Have I awoken late?’ she asked, taking the hot beverage in both hands and sitting at the edge of the bed.

  ‘It is almost noon,’ he replied. ‘I had expected to see you up much earlier if I am honest.’

  Catherine frowned. ‘Goodness it is late, I apologise. I was weary, and also awoken by a noise during the night,’ she found herself saying as she lifted the cup to her lips.

  He looked at her in surprise. ‘A noise?’

  ‘Well, rather more of an odd banging about in the room opposite. I did not realise that it was also occupied,’ she said, wondering whether or not to confide in him about it. Perhaps he already knew of the previous night’s tragic incident, but she didn’t need to venture any further with questions, as he began to fill her in almost immediately.

  ‘Annie and Nellie live in that room. Sorry, I should have warned you about them. Well, about Annie, anyway. She can be a little mean to the new girls sometimes.’

  ‘New girls?’

  His cheeks flushed. ‘Yes, well I meant, any new girl that moves in or lodges here.’

  There was a brief silence. She caught a distinct impression that he was hoping she might stay, but after the previous night the very idea repulsed her. She sipped at her tea and was surprised at how relaxed she felt in his presence. She realised she ought to have felt wary towards a stranger, yet she sensed some sort of affinity with him. His eyes seemed to reflect a hidden loneliness, a feeling with which she could very easily identify with.

  He turned to the window to look down at the street below. She analysed him, noticing his hair was speckled with dust.

  ‘Might I ask your real name then miss?’

  ‘Catherine Bell.’

  ‘Well I’m Eddie, as you already know,’ he responded.

  She did not wish to stare at him, but grew ever more curious in his presence.

  ‘What is your position here, Eddie?’

  He cleared his throat. ‘Oh, a bit of this and that. Collecting rents, runnin’ errands, deliveries, cleaning and mending things around the place. There’s always something that needs doing in a busy tavern lodging house.’

  ‘And are there many women lodging here?’ she asked.

  ‘Only five now in total that are currently stationed in these rooms above the tavern. Most of ‘em are empty. They come and go and work in different places. I don’t mix with ‘em much. I’m usually out on errands during the day, and at night I’m training for the season’s boxing tournaments. It’s a sort of hobby of mine—keeps me out of the way. You’ll only really see me when I’m summoned if someone needs a job doing, mending a leaky tap, broken chair or…’

  To Catherine’s ears it sounded as if he was excusing himself for being there. After what she had witnessed at the tavern the previous night, she could well forgive him for doing so. Perhaps he was ashamed of their livelihoods. She felt the need to re-assure him in the wake of his sudden discomfort.

  ‘It’s all right, I know what they do,’ she cut in. ‘I saw it last night. I saw the way the women were behaving downstairs.’

  She knew what they did because her aunt had remarked constantly how her uncle had a knack for wasting his earnings on them.

  “He messed about with those fallen women almost right up until the day he died, the dirty old git.”

  Catherine also recalled how her aunt frequently poured dirty grease on the cobbled stones outside her window, in an effort to trip them up whenever they strutted past her own street looking for custom.

  She had seen them saunter past frequently once the sun slipped behind the clouds. They’d stand discreetly near some narrow doorway then slip away with a passing gentleman, or lean against a wall throwing the occasional wink, and smile at whichever man dared to turn his head.

  She had seen what these women did for a long time now and it was no great shock to see them gathered in one place the night before, but what she had been forced to witness at the crack of dawn had filled her with revulsion, right to the core of her very being. It was something she hoped never to witness again.

  Eddie was attempting to stutter some type of a response, and she felt guilty she had made him feel awkward.

  ‘I suppose the fact is obvious,’ he finally said. ‘There are a lot in this part of the city, but it ain’t so bad, they tend to take most of their business outside the lodging house, and Madame Davenport manages them from her office below.’

  ‘Manage them? How does she do that?’ Catherine asked with renewed interest.

  ‘She sends them off to paying clients, or otherwise they take themselves elsewhere to find custom. She lets out the rooms for a fair rental price too, and I’d say it’s respectable enough in terms of cleanliness, if compared to others. Only shame things ain’t doing so well round here at the moment.’

  He did not catch Catherine’s bewildered expression. She found her room cheerless and squalid. At least her aunt had been fussy about keeping nice furnishings, and Catherine had been allowed to keep a few small possessions after her parents had died, though her aunt had mostly sold or auctioned off many items for profit.

  ‘The water in the washtub is changed once a week here,’ he went on. ‘Which is more than you’d get anywhere else I can tell you, and also, the regular punters that visit the tavern, well they’d be the hard-working sort that come in from the docks and factories, and anyhow miss, it’s not really my place to say much more, being only a lowly handyman.’

  ‘You know an awful lot about this place Eddie,’ she smiled at him.

  ‘I’ve been here since birth,’ he said, lowering his eyes as if it were a shameful fact to reveal.

  ‘Well, it’s all right. I am not afraid of them. Everyone must earn a living and now I am caught in an awkward situation myself, for now I must find a way to earn a living too,’ she sighed. ‘And I have only asked you about this lodging house because I was hoping I could stop here for a short while until I find employment, but now I am very unsure after what I witnessed in that room opposite.’

  His expression grew serious. ‘What did you witness?’

  She raised her eyes to meet his, unsure whether to tell him the details of the events which had occurred, but then, he had probably seen or heard the same thing dozens of times. It wasn’t as if she was being paid to keep a secret anyway, she would be gone soon enough and it seemed to be only that ‘Madame something-or-other,’ that the woman named Annie had worried would find out.

  ‘I heard cries coming from there and so I ventured out to see the cause of it. Well it appeared that one woman was helping the other to deliver....’ She covered her face with her hands upon recalling the frightful scene. ‘Well I saw it, and it was not alive.’

  For a moment or two their eyes fixed to the floor where she was acutely aware of the short distance between them. Sh
e immediately regretted having spoken, and when she looked into his eyes she saw sadness there.

  Eddie inhaled deeply and spoke in a low voice.

  ‘That happens sometimes. Sad as it is. Madame Davenport keeps certain strict rules over the women, and she ain’t all that impressed when one of them gets in the family way. It makes things awkward you see and they have to take care of it so that they can carry on working.’

  The memory made Catherine nauseous. She did not know whether to pity or despise the women at the lodging house. One thing was working for a living in order to make ends meet but... killing your own baby? She didn’t know how they did it and hoped never to find out.

  In one way she understood their plight, but still the act itself appalled her, and being forced to witness the unnatural and brutal event played out before her own eyes had only made her want to flee, and return to the streets to see what sort of a life fared for her out there.

  She stood and placed her cup back on the tray. ‘Well, I suppose I had better go and seek employment as well as new lodgings,’ she said, her mind fully set on departing.

  ‘Look. You could always stay here.’

  Her jaw fell with disbelief as she saw that his expression was serious, and if she wasn’t mistaken, hopeful, but still she laughed aloud.

  ‘Me? What ever will I do here? Are you saying that I should work as…’ She felt her cheeks growing red.

  ‘No,’ he replied sharply. ‘There are other things you could do here. Wait a minute. Tilly, the serving lady, is always complaining she needs assistance. I could ask the Madame on your behalf if you would allow me to.’

  Catherine stared at him thoughtfully. A position as a serving girl sounded like a far more inviting prospect than one where she would be made to entertain strange men.

  But why would he help me? she wondered.

  Perhaps he likes me and feels sympathy in my plight?

  An image of the workhouse and it’s emaciated and sorrowful occupants flew across her mind.