The Whitechapel Virgin Read online

  She didn’t want to have to tell Nellie that she couldn’t find Eddie either, and the reality of the situation made her quicken her step. The heavy bucket seemed to weigh nothing in her hand.

  ‘No Nellie, I won’t let you die now, I won’t,’ she said aloud as she reached for the handle and pushed the door open.

  The colour in the room had changed. From a clear brightness to a grey cast. Annie put the bucket down and walked over to check Nellie’s face. It was no longer mired with pain but seemed peaceful and relaxed. Her lips were slightly parted, a little saliva escaping from one corner. Annie lifted her arm and it dropped back weightlessly.

  Throwing herself over the friend’s body she let out a loud sob, it was a wild and unfamiliar sound to her ears. She couldn’t remember the last time she had truly cried, or allowed herself to become emotional over anything.

  ‘I’ve got no-one left now you know?’ she said stroking Nellie’s cold cheek.‘It should’ve been me Nellie, you didn’t deserve this at all. It should’ve been me.’

  * * *

  ‘You’ll never lose all those lovely memories Annie,’ Tilly was saying with a hand resting on Annie’s shoulder. ‘They’ll all be still inside of you when there’s need for a little comforting.’

  Catherine was sitting just a few metres away from the two women, unsure how to approach Annie. The woman had once shown a rare act of kindness towards her but mostly still acted indifferently, as though she wasn’t really there.

  The news of Nellie’s death had reached her ears whilst she had been scrubbing the floor. Down on her knees she had been when two men had arrived through the door: a thick bearded man and the tall square-shouldered tailor who lived two doors away. One more arrived and parked his horse and cart on the road.

  They had all rallied around to prepare Nellie’s body for removal. Annie did nothing except sit and cry.

  Catherine was surprised to feel a great pity for her now. During the time she had lived and worked at the lodging house she had rarely seen the two women apart. She realised it would be hard for Annie to make her own way, but at least she would not have the burden of paying Nellie’s way too. Nellie had always appeared sickly, and Catherine thought it was probably for the best.

  When Eddie arrived at the tavern a little later that same afternoon he was covered head to foot in coal stains. He walked straight past Catherine, but she witnessed how his eyes became sad and uncomprehending when Tilly led him to one side to break the sad news. He had turned his back to everyone and smashed one fist to the wall before rushing back out of the door before anyone could say a single word.

  ‘He’ll be back soon enough,’ Tilly had said. ‘Let him go and get it out of his system.’

  Before Nellie’s death the tavern had been filled with people spreading the latest reports and rumours surrounding Jack the Ripper, and to reveal the various residents who were still being held in the station under questioning. Mother’s worried for their sons, and husbands held back by long and lengthy interrogations. It seemed everyone in Whitechapel was paying a price for one brutal man’s actions.

  A woman named Rita had been in weeping and lamenting that her son had been held down at the station for more than twenty four hours. “Just cos he works at the stable yard where the second girl was slain don’t make him no killer,” she had lamented. Tilly had offered her a hot brew and comforted her until she left.

  Catherine wondered if Mr Cross was still at the station too, or had he now been freed? In spite of herself she had been terrified that he would turn up at the tavern unexpectedly.

  For hours she had mulled over the latest conversation with Lizzie and the realisation they had come upon. Crouching on all fours to scrub the same insubordinate stains on the floor, she tried to come to terms with what might happen to her if she revealed to the authorities everything that she knew. But no matter which way she tried to analyse it in her mind it seemed too complicated and shameful to speak of publicly.

  The more she allowed these thoughts to grow the more frayed her nerves became. Finally she stood up, dusted herself off and headed for Madame’s office.

  I could always take my last coin and search for a room elsewhere if she insists that I visit Mr Cross again.

  It was a brave thought, but foolish nonetheless. Being homeless at a time like this was extremely dangerous for any woman.

  The door was already open. She found the Madame staring out of her window wearing a long purple gown decorated in ruffles and frills. To her own surprise the Madame invited her in.

  ‘Ah Catherine Bell. I have wanted to speak with you again, and had little opportunity to do so, come inside.’

  Catherine seated herself and parted her lips to speak, but the iron-fisted determination she had felt moments earlier quickly dissolved. Thankfully the Madame launched into conversation first.

  ‘I do think that there are some matters to be discussed in light of so many distressing events which have come to pass. As you know it is a delicate time for all of us. With Nellie’s passing it only serves to remind us that we are all so very vulnerable. I know that Mr Cross has exhibited some strange tendencies, for which I can only say, is not all uncommon in a world occupied by male domination, however since my last word with you I have thought deeply over the situation.’

  But do you know that he has been arrested, as a Ripper suspect? Catherine wanted to say, but found she could not utter the words.

  ‘I have reason to suspect that he may be embroiled in some way with the current scandal, absurd as that claim is, however we do not need the press or our surrounding citizens to focus their attention on our establishment.’

  She paused, her eyes glazing over in thought. ‘In light of that, I think that it is best that you do not visit him for the time being. I shall write a letter to inform him that you have taken up a different position forthwith, without imparting too many details.’

  Catherine let out a long sigh of relief. If Mr Cross is found to be the murderer, and hung, she would not have to deal with him ever again.

  ‘Madame, I am grateful that you have seen fit to release me from my position with Mr Cross. I do worry however, that he may return here to seek my presence.’

  ‘He may of course, quite why he is so transfixed by you we cannot know, but I will do what I can to discourage him. Miss Bell, I do not wish to frighten you but these are very dangerous times. I have been discreetly alerted to his possible involvement in the murders.’

  Catherine’s eyes widened in surprise.

  So she does know? How?’

  ‘Let’s just say that the authorities have been tipped off with a clue, and I am very concerned that it leads to Mr Cross. Best that we keep clear of any association with these murders.’

  She shifted in her chair uncomfortably. ‘What manner of work am I to perform here then, Madame?’ she asked, acutely aware that she had nothing but half a shilling left in her purse and would not be receiving any further funds from her visits to Mr Cross.

  ‘Manner of work?’ Madame gave a small laugh, her brow furrowing with disapproval. ‘My oh my, you are an ignorant and mollycoddled little thing aren’t you?’

  Catherine looked at her lap shamefully.‘I am happy to continue with all the cleaning duties that are required here, Madame.’

  ‘We have Tilly and other women to attend those duties Catherine. But you have begun work now for me and so you will continue. Goodness, you have indulged in nothing more than some nocturnal theatrical entertainment at Mr Cross’s residence, whereas any woman between here and the edge of the city would have traded places in an instant for your sort of remuneration.’

  Her expression was unforgiving.

  ‘Have you forgotten that you have no relatives, no skills and nothing of value to offer? You must learn the virtue
of gratitude, for it is time you grew up and faced the harsh realities of life. You will work with Annie. Now that Nellie is gone you will take on some of the duties that she has left vacant. I have a waiting list of clients who are disgruntled about the lack of useful women in the area.’

  Catherine listened in silence.

  ‘Annie will be fragile for a little while, I can understand, but not for long. And if we do not meet our customer’s wishes I will be forced to close down our establishment, then where will we all be? Forced into the crowded filthy workhouses where many stand in long queues as we speak, begging to be let inside.’

  Too afraid to utter any word, Catherine nodded and Madame’s expression softened a little.

  ‘I know I am sounding harsh to your ears Catherine, but these are matters which we must endure. I will give you two days leave whilst Annie recovers from her loss and then she will instruct you upon your new duties.’

  She beckoned towards the door. ‘Oh and one last thing. Not a word to the authorities about Mr Cross or any private knowledge in your dealings with him. The last thing we need is to have Scotland Yard visiting here to inspect our business and shut it down.’

  THIRTY

  ‘Heavens! What on earth is going on here?’ Thomson scowled at Edward who was sitting slumped back in a chair.

  Officer Anderson stood a few inches away and watched them both stiffly. ‘You’ve got ten minutes and be quick about it,’ he told Thomson in a sharp tone before exiting the room and locking the door behind him.

  Relieved that the officer had left the room Cross buried his head in his hands. His hair was unwashed, his eyes ringed with dark circles. He could barely think straight. He hadn’t taken a drink in forty eight hours and the migraines and chest spasms continued to plague him.

  ‘Look at you Edward. You look ghastly. I had no idea things had gotten this bad. Why are you being questioned and, more importantly, why aren’t the authorities releasing you?’

  Cross stared at the floor. ‘There has been evidence found against me.’

  ‘Evidence? Regarding what?’

  ‘The murders,’ he mumbled.

  All he needed was a quick dose of laudanum to set his mind straight, but they had confiscated everything he had in his possession, bursting like maniacs into his home the previous morning in order to search it, and then yanking him down to the station immediately. He’d barely had time to remove the rope.

  ‘Are you telling me that they think you are the Ripper?’ Thomson queried.

  Cross shrugged.

  ‘Why, that’s utterly absurd! What proof have they found?’

  ‘A letter.’

  ‘A letter? By whom and saying what?’

  Cross sighed. ‘A letter which they say is highly suspect and mentions me by name.’

  Thomson stared at his friend in disbelief. ‘Well obviously someone is trying to frame you. These type of fraudulent letters have been circulating for weeks, but if they have no concrete evidence then they...’

  ‘Look. I need something to be able to think clearly, do you happen to have anything on your person?’

  Thomson scowled and began to pace the room.‘Pull yourself together man, this is not the time to be asking for that. Now try to remember. Is a letter all that they have against you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Cross lied. ‘That is all they have.’

  ‘Well in that case, I shall make my own statement known before I leave.’

  ‘No!’

  Thomson looked at his friend, perplexed.

  ‘Why not? They cannot possibly keep you here based on such folly.’

  ‘It will not help matters, please I just need...’

  Thomson strode over and grasped his friend by the shoulders. ‘Look man, you need to pull yourself together, whatever is going on here they will not release you until you do. The police are bull-dozing through your place like it were an infected brothel-house. Now, has any of this to do with the virgin girl?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The virgin you picked up at the Boars Tavern, is she something to do with this sorry mess? Or what about the diary?’

  ‘The diary? You have it.’

  Thomson shook his hair in his hands. ‘Hmm I do indeed, so they cannot use that against you, at least. But I cannot understand this at all. Why they would keep you under interrogation?’

  ‘Destroy it.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Destroy the diary I gave you.’

  ‘Now why do you wish me to do that?’

  ‘Because I have the original. I have the one which counts.’

  Thomson looked at him in silence for a moment. ‘You mean to tell me you gave me a different version?’

  Cross laughed. ‘No, not a different version, a diluted one.’

  Thomson’s eyes blazed. ‘Why would you be so deceitful? I thought I could trust you Edward? I thought that I knew you.’

  Cross stared up vacantly at his friend.

  ‘You are wrong. I am afraid that no-body knows me.’

  THIRTY-ONE

  Lizzie held Catherine’s hand tightly, seeing the fear displayed across her face. ‘Now you won’t visit him again will you?’

  ‘No, Madame Davenport has forbid it, she has already been made aware of his arrest.’

  The two women were sitting on a damp bench over-looking the Thames, their thick coats buttoned high. The rain fell in a drizzle and Catherine’s feet felt damp inside her boots.

  ‘I hope they hang him for the crimes,’ Lizzie said in a low breath.

  ‘Madame has urged me to take on Nellie’s business. I don’t think I can bring myself to do it.’

  The older woman looked at Catherine and squeezed her hand. ‘I know my love, its never easy to know which way to turn.’ Catherine shook her head, solemnly.

  ‘Look, let me speak to Laurel, maybe he can take at look at the books, and if he thinks we can squeeze in a member of staff, we’ll have you help out at the bakery. I can’t promise it, but it’s all I can say for now.’

  Catherine’s face lit up. ‘Oh Lizzie, would you? Would you really do that for me?’

  ‘Well of course I would. But remember I can’t make no promises until he’s looked at the books. Lord knows, even we’ve felt the pinch of lack of custom what with all this madness going on, and customers buyin’ less goods on account of locking themselves up at home whilst that madman’s on the loose.’

  ‘Do you really think it is him?’

  ‘Who, Edward Cross?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t have said so before, but after what you’ve described about his actions, and the way he’s been carrying on, he weren’t the same person in the end. Seems like he’s lost his mind, and people can do anything when they’ve lost that.’

  ‘He was so charming and polite and sweet at first, and then..’

  ‘He changed didn’t he?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, he showed a great degree of peculiarity, and when he tied me up his face contorted, like it wasn’t really him anymore, like something else took over him. He was not able to perform.’

  ‘Which makes sense,’ continued Lizzie ‘because they say the murdered women didn’t appear tampered with in that kind of way neither. And he kept all those writings about women, which only proves that he had some kind of derangement. And what about Eddie, have you seen him about lately?’

  Catherine sighed. ‘Not an awful lot, he has become very adept at avoiding me.’

  ‘Well, I spotted him coming out of Dutfield’s yard only yesterday and he looked to be in good shape if you ask me. He was with some friends of his before they all went off in the direction of the Ten Bells. He
’ll be talking to you soon enough Catherine, once his damaged pride has healed.’

  ‘Eddie has been so difficult to communicate with.’

  ‘Yes, some men can be awful grumpy and stubborn. Tell me about it, Laurel can go into a rotten mood for days if I don’t pay him enough attention.’

  A drizzle of rain began to fall and the two women stood up to leave.

  ‘Best get back then before we get washed down the river,’ Lizzie laughed.

  ‘I shall meet with you soon, and please accept my sincere gratitude,’ Catherine smiled before departing.‘Oh silly, I ain’t done nothing yet, but stop by in a few days and I’ll let you know if we can afford you a position.’

  Catherine nodded, forcing a smile as she left, though her stomach knotted uncomfortably. She was to meet Annie in less than two hours. There would be a visit to some gentlemen or other this evening, of that she was certain, and it seemed impossible to avoid now.

  Oh, if only she could delay Madame’s instruction. If only there was more time and Lizzie could employ her straight away, but she couldn’t ask her kind friend for more than she had already offered.

  As she opened the tavern door she wondered what sort of mood Annie would be in. She hadn’t seen the woman since Nellie passed. Maybe she would act even more unpleasantly towards her than before.

  Well, at least Edward Cross was out of the picture, now that he had been discovered and put away.

  But if he really did kill all those whores why didn’t he kill me?

  She shivered at the realisation that she had been at his mercy. So very close to those murderous hands.

  Rumour had gone around the tavern that none of the women had been abused inappropriately. It was said that the killer hadn’t had time. The news had made her almost faint with shock. Edward Cross had not penetrated her either. Of that she was pretty certain, there had never been any blood or any sign that he had performed a sexual act, for each time he attempted it, his manhood seemed to deflate along with his sanity.