The Whitechapel Virgin Page 21

  But tonight?

  Tonight will be different for certain. A man will have his way with her, and she will come away as soiled and unclean as the rest of them.

  * * *

  He crouched beneath the arched doorway and slid open the lock to the warehouse. It was damp and airless in the dark room. He looked about him, spotting a shiny black rat feeding on some other dead rodent in a corner. He screwed up his nose to the obnoxious smell. In a bucket close to him the water had turned putrid and brown.

  He seated himself on a dusty chair and expelled a large breath to gather his wits about him. It had not been an easy task. When they had finally released him from the police station he had worried that they’d already discovered his warehouse. But the place was untouched, and no-one would ever discover him here without a bit of trouble. It was unlikely they’d search for him that evening because he was officially with Thomson who had kicked up a huge deal of fuss with the Detective, until they released him on account of Thomson’s father having some important connection to the authorities.

  It had, however, been harder to convince Thomson to let him out of his own sight. He had promised his friend he would visit his own residence to collect some possessions and return before dark.

  The station wanted Thomson to deliver him back to the station at the stroke of eight the following day for another barrage of questions, which Cross had already likely answered several times.

  He kicked over the pale of water beside his leg and covered his nose at the stench.

  The bastards. Don’t they have anything better to do?

  They’d asked him enough questions as far as he was concerned. They’d pried too much and for too long but strangely he felt numb inside, a simmering furnace waiting for the moment to erupt.

  He had come upon the conclusion that it must have been Catherine Bell who had organised the fake letter somehow, an under-handed trick played in order to implicate him.

  He moved towards his large chest and prised it open with a steel bar. He knew he wouldn’t be going back to Thomson’s abode for some time because he had to take care of the troublesome wench first, and when he caught her he would finish what he had started. He would deal with all of the infested vermin eventually, but her? Now he would give her what she deserved.

  Then his glorious diary would be complete.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Powdering her face in an effort to put some colour back into her sallow cheeks, Annie was feeling far from happy about returning so soon to work after Nellie’s death. She truly felt as though she couldn’t take another breath, and the gout she suffered in her right knee had begun to play up something terrible.

  It hadn’t been acceptable for her to sit about wallowing in self-pity for long though, because Madame had come searching for her in an effort to convince her to resume business. The client list was long, and the amount of serviceable women in the area were scarce.

  The instruction was for her to escort Catherine Bell to Mr Farthingale’s residence, and Annie hated the idea of escorting the flighty girl to one of Nellie’s regular customer’s, but she would be given no choice in the matter. She knew that if Nellie were alive she would have told Annie to get over her bitterness and take the girl along. She could almost hear her voice in the back of her mind.

  “Mr Farthingale will be delighted to receive that young pretty girl instead of me.”

  What Annie did know for a fact was that Madame would be charging the dirty old codger more than twice what Nellie had been worth.

  And that stung.

  A knock came at the door and Annie answered it. Catherine Bell stood alone, biting her fingernails nervously.

  ‘Come in,’ Annie instructed.

  Catherine obeyed and moved stiffly near the window.

  Annie rolled her eyes. ‘I ain’t gonna bite, relax. I know we’ve had our differences but it’s all down to business at the end of the day.’

  ‘I am very sorry about Nellie. I know how fond you were of her.’

  Annie nodded and glanced outside. ‘Well, we had better be off, it’ll get dark soon.’

  The two women left the tavern together. When they stepped into the street Annie turned to Catherine. ‘Oh and one other thing. We’re to stick together tonight, those are the orders, all the way there together and I’ll fetch ya on the way back. I’ll make sure that he doesn’t get us, don’t you worry about that.

  ‘Who?’ Catherine asked.

  ‘Jacky boy, of course.’

  * * *

  It hadn’t been as she expected. Catherine had been asked to service the older man in a repugnant way which did not involve penetration. It was the vilest request ever asked of her, yet she had obeyed, feeling sick to her stomach during the process.

  Afterwards he lay back on the bed and instantly dozed off telling her to remain beside him.

  She lay quietly in the dark listening to the shrill sound of the wind rasping at the window whilst he snored loudly beside her. He stank of cigar smoke and urine. Each time she attempted to rise he seemed to hear her and grabbed at her arm. ‘Please. Stay a little longer,’ he begged.

  She realised he was just a lonely old soul who probably longed for companionship and affection.

  Once his breathing fell into a steady rhythm she was able to rise, and immediately retched into his chamberpot, wiping herself on a dirty blanket whilst he slept on obliviously.

  The desire to run away overwhelmed her, though Annie had ordered her not to leave the residence until she returned to collect her in the early hours.

  Catherine felt that the woman would never arrive or had possibly abandoned her there. But shortly after midnight as she was sitting on the floor with her knees drawn to her chest, and her arms folded across her abdomen, a gentle knock came at the door.

  She slipped out of the gentleman’s house with a neutral expression. She did not want Annie to think that she was weak, scared and unable to perform her duty. Even so, Annie appeared distracted and weary as they began to make their way back to the lodging house together.

  They had just reached the corner of a dusty uneven path when Annie unexpectedly leaned over and vomited by a pile of strewn hay on the ground.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Catherine enquired with concern.

  The older woman stood up and wiped her mouth with a dirty hankie. ‘That’s been happening more often now. Ever since Nellie went I’ve been doing it every day, just can’t keep nothing down me anymore, not even the gin will stay down. She left a big hole in me heart and in me stomach.’Catherine was struck with pity for her. She was clearly still stricken with sadness over her best friend’s death. She offered her the crook of her arm. ‘You can lean on to me if you wish.’

  Annie smiled gratefully.

  Together they walked on ahead where the gloomy streets appeared to have been completely emptied of people hurrying towards the safety of their own homes.

  Catherine could hardly believe how frail Annie had become. She normally walked proudly, her head held high, her shoulders back, but now, her upper body slumped forward and the steadiness of her step seemed marred by some kind of affliction to her leg.

  ‘We need to walk on by the street where that last woman was killed. If God’s looking down on us from that sky up there we’ll be lucky it won’t happen again, but I’ll be thankful when we’re well past it.’

  Catherine shuddered. Recently rumours were spreading that the killer had fled to America, or committed suicide in the Thames river. According to reports the authorities could never be sure it was him though, as Lizzie explained to her, for it was often hard to identify any of the bloated carcasses which were fished out from the river’s murky depths. Stopping in her tracks Annie shoved her hand inside the pocket of her coat. ‘Here, it’
s one of me sharpest pins, keep it in your pocket. If anything happens, you can put an eye out if they grab at ya.’

  Catherine took it, feeling unnerved with Annie’s increasing anxiety. The two women linked arms and headed towards Mitre Street where dark and dismal brick buildings snuffed out of any visible light appeared foreboding.

  They had almost reached the square when Catherine spotted a blackened shadow rush past in front of them. Her heart leapt to her throat and she blinked and stood still.

  ‘Did you see that Annie?’

  ‘Did I see what?’

  ‘A man, or a shadow running past?’

  Annie gripped Catherine’s arm tighter. ‘No I didn’t see nothing, but now you’ve said it we’d better turn back and go a different way.’

  Catherine shook her head. ‘No! That’s what he might be expecting us to do, to retreat. We should go on ahead.’

  Annie nodded. ‘Then we’ll cut through Mitre Square and down the narrow passage. It’s a quicker route back anyhow.’

  Catherine noticed that she was trembling as she spoke. She never thought she would see a woman like Annie tremble.

  A gusty breeze collected a carousel of loose debris and dust on the road, brushing it past their legs.

  Annie yelped.‘Oh my gawd, I’m too old for this malarkey.’

  ‘We must hurry on,’ Catherine insisted and they continued, turning towards the square. There was barely any visible light other than the shimmering glare from the full moon.

  Halfway along the path the dark shadow re-appeared and this time the two women saw that it was indeed the silhouette of a man. He stood partially hidden within a shadow on the wall, his masculine form tall and threatening as it hovered there, as if waiting.

  Annie needed no prompting. She squealed and let go of her companion’s arm, picked up her hem and retreated as fast as her bad leg would allow her.

  Catherine’s heart thumped wildly inside her ears. She stood still, closed her eyes, then took a deep breath and turned to follow, but stopped again when the voice suddenly called out.

  ‘Catherine!’

  Instantly she recognised the familiar tone. Her blood ran cold, yet she knew that she could not turn away and flee no matter how much she willed herself to.

  Why am I not afraid of him?

  ‘Come, I wish to talk with you,’ the voice said, and she found herself turning around and walking slowly towards him, gripping her hands tightly together.

  He was leaning casually against the wall, as though he was indulging in a refreshing evening smoke, or simply awaiting an omnibus to pass by. It seemed odd to her how relaxed he appeared in the dead of night when he had been the most talked about villain in the city for weeks. She glanced back to see that Annie was already out of sight.

  He smiled as she approached and her heart almost ceased beating when she caught sight of a knife gripped tightly within his right hand. It was smeared with blood.

  They stood still, facing each other for a moment. She was aware of her chest rising and falling, her throat dry and raspy, convinced that at any moment his steel knife would rise up into the air and slice into her throat.

  But he said he cared for me, so why would he hurt me?

  She took a deep breath before speaking. ‘Eddie, I don’t understand any of this.’There was a long pause as his blue eyes stared into hers.

  ‘It’s too late for that, Catherine.’

  He lifted his arm and she flinched. He showed her the blade, almost proudly turning it in various angles so that it’s fine sharp edge glinted in the moonlight.

  ‘You should have listened to me Catherine and I would have protected you. But instead, you did what they all do. Just like Mary Jane, my mother, Nellie and Annie, and every damn woman that I have ever cared for. You all let me down as though I meant nothing.. NOTHING.’

  His face quivered with anger as he pointed a few metres behind him.

  ‘Look, look what all of you have made me do. It’s a bloody hellish job I can tell you, do you think that I’ve enjoyed it? This is my second one tonight.’

  Catherine turned her head to witness the body of a woman lying sprawled on her back on the ground, blood seeping from her head, her skirts lifted above her abdomen.

  Her eyelids snapped shut to the horror.

  ‘Why Eddie. Why you?’ she whispered.

  ‘Someone had to do it Catherine. Someone had to silence all those whores, so why not me? I knew them better than anyone. I knew their hiding places and the rotten schemes they played on men.’

  The realisation that the killer had not been Mr Cross but this sweet young man suddenly hit her with her some force and she covered her face with her hands, letting a sob escape. When she looked up at him again she spotted a stray tear sliding down his cheek.

  He lowered the knife to his side again and moved his mouth closer to her ear.

  ‘You know I only wanted someone to love me. My mother died so that I could live but I could never know if even she might have wanted me or not. I have been nothing more than a burden, an unwanted urchin since the very day I was born; put to work and ordered about like a skivvy.’

  A choke caught in his throat. ‘Did any person ever consider that I might have feelings too?’

  ‘But I cared for you Eddie,’ she tried to reason with him, before it was too late, and before his knife sliced her own neck, but his expression showed no sign of remorse.

  ‘No Catherine. You ran to that misfit who had no honest intentions with you. You knew this and yet you went to him anyway. Well guess what? I put him away for that. It wasn’t difficult, a few clues, a letter dropped off at the station and they hauled him in, didn’t they? They kept him inside so that he couldn’t hurt you again. You should thank me for that, Catherine.’

  ‘But why did you have to murder these innocent women, and in such a terrible way?’ she grimaced at the body on the ground. It made sense to her now. Of course Eddie had grown up on the streets, watching and learning traders skills, no doubt he had cut up quite a few carcasses at the butcher shop too.

  And he had fooled everyone with his quiet demeanour. Eddie who was the most hardworking person she’d met, the most sensitive, helpful and caring.

  But it wasn’t Eddie standing before her now. It wasn’t him who bared his teeth, turning into someone she could not recognise.

  ‘Those whores! They hated my mother, all of them had set loose terrible rumours with their sinful tongues. It was high time they got their come-uppance. And as for Mary Jane, I’d have slashed her bowels out too if she was around.’

  ‘And now what? Is it me you want to hurt, Eddie?’

  He held her throat and squeezed it gently with his fingertips. ‘Oh Catherine, in my dreams I have killed you so many times. Imagined the blood seep from your lovely mouth. I only wanted you for myself, yes I’m a fool I know, but you tried to make me hate you.’

  She was convinced that he would choke the life out of her then and gathered all her strength to pull away from him. Momentarily freeing herself from his grip she stumbled away in an aimless direction, her mind frantic and muddled with fear and confusion.

  His footsteps came behind her, mocking her with a dirty laugh as she escaped barely more than a few metres away where she tripped and tumbled to the ground. Her head began to flood with darkness as he looked down upon her.

  ‘Let’s see if your gallant knight will save you now.’

  * * *

  A flickering gas lamp hung on a chain overhead causing her to squint when she awoke. Looking to one side she realised that she was in a different room, it seemed unfamiliar. Boxes were stacked in rows along the wall and the floor was covered with bundles of hay.

  A stable yard? Was this another hid
ing place?

  Tilting her chin she spotted him standing at the foot of the bed watching her. She sat up, ready to scream, but remembered that he had a knife and it would do no good to show fear. She looked at his hands and was reassured to see that he was no longer holding it.

  I should talk to him, soften him, make him release me.

  Her voice sounded weak. ‘Eddie, you have every reason to be upset with me, but I have been trying to speak with you, to apologise for my behaviour. I wished only for us to renew our friendship, please, let us go back to the lodging house where we can talk.’

  He stared through her with un-seeing eyes.

  ‘Eddie?’

  ‘I do not think that is a good idea right now Catherine. There are policemen searching for me, and they are probably looking for you too. When they catch me they will hang me. Do you want them to do that?’

  She swallowed hard. ‘No.’

  ‘Then we had better stay here. You should try and rest for now.’

  Laying back again and closing her eyes, she realised that it was no use trying to convince him to let her go, he was far too strong and could run much faster than she ever could. But for how long could he keep her hidden away? Surely the authorities would begin searching the area when daylight came, and he couldn’t escape then? Annie would have informed the police by now too, they’d all be looking for her. She ought to remain calm, and silent. Not provoke him any further.

  And the knife must be around here somewhere.

  She lay silently, praying for what felt like an eternity, listening to him shuffle about in the darkness, moving, re-stacking, opening and closing boxes. She didn’t want to open her eyes in case she witnessed awful things inside them. A long time passed before she finally found the courage to speak again.