A Mother's Courage (28 page)

As she walked between Poll and Ivy, Eloise's
stomach churned with fear and revulsion at the
thought of what they were about to do. Wearing
Poll's red satin blouse, which was cut so low that
it revealed the swell of her breasts and only just
covered the top of her stays, and Ivy's gaudy
bonnet adorned with scarlet ostrich feathers,
Eloise felt like an actress about to go out on the
stage. It was only that which kept her from
running away. It was not she who was walking
the streets like one of Papa's cherished fallen
women, about whom he spoke with such
passion; it was another woman who set off to
earn her living in the oldest profession on earth.
With difficulty, she managed to detach herself
from the barrage of lewd remarks they received
from the men who hung around outside the
public houses and brothels. Poll and Ivy fended
off prospective but unsuitable clients with practised
good humour, and Eloise huddled between
them wishing she was dead.

They reached Shaftesbury Avenue just as the
theatre crowds were spilling out on the street. Poll
and Ivy knew exactly where to position
themselves so that they did not offend the
respectable matrons who emerged from the
theatre on the arms of their husbands. They
waited in the shadows until they spotted a likely
customer and Ivy was the first to sway into action.
A man wearing evening dress, an opera cloak and
a shiny black top hat came towards them,
weaving slightly as if he had had too much to
drink, but this did not deter Ivy. She approached
him with a seductive smile and it seemed to Eloise
that the drunken gentleman knew her, as they
went off down an alley straight away.

'That'll be five bob in her pocket,' Poll said,
nodding with approval. 'Maybe ten bob if she's
lucky.'

'I – I don't think I can do it,' Eloise murmured,
swallowing hard. 'I wouldn't know what to say
to a man.'

'Lord love us, ducks. You don't have to say
nothing, except ta when they hand over the cash.
They ain't interested in what goes on in your
head. It's your drawers they want to get into. Just
smile and think of Mother Hilton's boiled beef
and carrots, pease pudding and spotted dick.
Think of chocolate and violet creams. That's
what I do, and it works every time.'

Eloise ducked into a doorway as a gentleman
well past the first flush of youth staggered
towards them with his satin-lined opera cloak
billowing out like the wings of a large, black
raven. Eloise prayed silently that Poll would not
push her forward, but her hopes were in vain.

'There you are, girl,' Poll said, dragging her out
of the doorway. 'He's a bit on the elderly side,
but that's all to the good. It'll be over all the
quicker and he's not short of a bob or two,
judging by them shoes. I always judge a man by
his footwear, and I'd say they come from one of
the best shoemakers in St James's.' She gave
Eloise a hefty push. 'Go on. Do your stuff, Ellie.
Remember what I taught you.'

Eloise stumbled straight into the man's path
and they collided. 'Excuse me, m'dear.' The
gentleman's voice was slurred but he spoke in a
cultured tone. He hesitated for a second, eyeing
her through a monocle, and then he chuckled.
'Why, that was no accident, was it?'

Paralysed with fright and sick with nerves,
Eloise managed to nod her head. Out of the
corner of her eye she could see Poll making
encouraging gestures with her hand. 'N-no, sir.'

'Well, by gad. You're not the usual sort of
street woman one would expect to come across.'
The gentleman chucked her under the chin,
allowing his finger to wander down her throat to
the hollow at the base of her neck. 'Most
interesting. What say we find somewhere a little
more private, m'dear?'

The temptation to slap his hand away was
almost too great for her and Eloise's stomach
heaved. Her skin crawled at the touch of his bony
fingers as he slid them down to caress her left
breast. He licked his lips as saliva dribbled from
the corner of his mouth. 'I know of a room
nearby,' he said in a thick voice. 'Come, hurry. I
have not much time to spare.' He seized her by
the arm and hurried her towards the open doors
of a public house. 'The landlord is a most
amenable chap, as I'm sure you know.'

The strong smell of beer, raw spirits and
tobacco smoke, laced with the sweat of bodies
packed together in a crowded taproom, hit the
back of Eloise's throat, making her cough, and
she thought she was going to be sick. The gaslights
flickered and the babble of voices together
with raucous laughter rose to a deafening
crescendo as they neared the doorway. Someone
was thumping a melody on an out of tune piano
and drunken voices were singing a bawdy song.
'Come on, you little beauty,' the gentleman
urged, slipping his arm around her waist. 'You
can show me what you can do upstairs in the
private salon.'

'No!' The word was wrenched from her lips in
a scream. She could not go through with it, even
for the sake of her children. Their faces flashed
before her eyes and Eloise broke free, gasping for
air as if she had just awakened from a terrible
nightmare. Whatever the consequences she
could not give herself to a complete stranger. She
would rather die than allow this man to violate
her body.

He was staring at her with an incredulous look
on his face. 'Why, you little tease . . .'

She did not wait to hear the rest. Eloise picked
up her skirts and ran. She darted past Poll,
avoiding her outstretched hand, and she barged
through the crowded streets, pushing people out
of the way if they attempted to molest her. Half
blinded by tears and with her breath coming in
ragged sobs, Eloise headed back the way they
had come. She found her way more by instinct
than anything else and she let herself into the
house, closing the door behind her and leaning
against it as if she feared that her disappointed
client might have followed her home. It was
unlikely, as it would have been impossible for a
gentleman of his age and in his condition to run
all the way from Shaftesbury Avenue to Church
Lane, but Eloise was not thinking clearly. She
managed to get as far as the basement kitchen
before her legs gave way beneath her and she
sank down onto one of the forms at the deal
table, laying her head on her arms as she fought
to regain control over her breathing.

'Gawd above, look at the state of you.'

Mother Hilton's strident voice made Eloise sit
bolt upright, blinking as the beam of light from
an oil lamp held close to her face momentarily
dazzled her. She held her hand to her eyes. 'I – I
didn't hear you come in.'

Mother Hilton raised the lamp higher, staring
down at Eloise with a scornful expression on her
face. 'You look like something the cat dragged
in.'

Eloise rose unsteadily to her feet. 'I'm going to
bed.'

'No, not yet you ain't.' Mother Hilton held out
her hand. 'You owe me two days' rent.'

'I'll give it to you in the morning,' Eloise said
with as much dignity as she could muster. She
knew she must look a sight, but she was not
going to let Mother Hilton crow over her distress
and her all too apparent failure to earn any
money.

'You'd better, or it's the street for you and your
brats. I'm not running a charity, missis. You pay
up or you get out. It's as simple as that.'

'Yes, in the morning,' Eloise said wearily. 'You
shall have your money first thing.'

'It's my last warning,' Mother Hilton called
after her as Eloise left the kitchen. 'I want it in
full.'

Eloise could hear her going on even as she
crossed the storeroom and lifted the latch on the
door that led into her sleeping quarters. Ivy's bed
was empty, but Old Aggie was lying flat on her
back, snoring loudly and exhaling gin fumes.
Fortunately, Joss and Beth were blissfully
oblivious to everything as they slept, curled up
together. Eloise bent down to cover them with the
thin woollen blanket which was the only bedding
that Mother Hilton supplied. She took off Ivy's
bonnet and Poll's satin blouse and laid them on
the floor by her palliasse; then, without disrobing
further, Eloise lay down beside her children and
wrapped her arms around them. Through the
cracked panes of the area window, she could hear
the tramp of booted feet and the sound of
drunken laughter. Somewhere, in the distance,
she could hear a woman screaming. No doubt she
was receiving a beating from her husband or a
jealous lover, but her cries would be ignored by
the rest of the street. Tomorrow she might be
bruised and have broken limbs, or she could even
be dead. The police rarely ventured into this area
at night; crimes went undetected and murders
were rarely investigated.

Eloise slid her hand beneath the palliasse until
her fingers came in contact with the two
envelopes containing her mother's letters. She
eased them out carefully so that the crackle of
paper did not disturb Joss and Beth, and she
clutched the precious correspondence to her
breast, closing her eyes and conjuring up a vision
of Mama's beautiful face and her gentle smile.
'Be brave, Ellie, darling.' Eloise heard the words
as clearly as if her mother was sitting by her side.
She could smell the sweet scent of lavender that
always clung to Mama's clothes and hair. Even
though they were separated by thousands of
miles, the bond between them could not be
broken, and Eloise was very glad that her mother
was not here to see her in this parlous state.

She was awakened early next morning by the
shuffling and grumbling of Old Aggie whose
bed was closest to the wall. Ivy's bed looked as
though it had not been slept in, and Eloise could
only guess that she had met a punter who would
pay for a whole night of passion. The older
woman crawled off her mattress and pulled on
her boots. Although very few words had passed
between them, Eloise knew that she rose early in
order to get to Covent Garden market where she
scavenged for the broken blooms and made
them into nosegays to sell on street corners.
When at last she stumbled out of the room, Eloise
sat up carefully so as not to disturb Joss, but Beth
was moaning softly in her sleep and Eloise was
alarmed to discover that her small body was
unnaturally hot and it seemed that she was
running a low fever. It might be nothing more
than cutting another tooth or the onset of a cold,
but Eloise was even more determined to beg
Mother Hilton on her bended knees to give her
more time to find the money for the rent. When
Joss woke up some minutes later, she examined
both children for spots or rashes and was only
slightly comforted by the fact that their skin
remained unblemished. Eloise dressed them in
their day clothes, which were sadly worn and not
very clean, and she sighed, thinking of the washhouse
in the vicarage yard where, every Monday
morning without fail, Janet would light the fire
below the copper and do the family wash. The
steamy air would be fragrant with the smell of
Sunlight soap and filled with the musical sounds
of washday: the bubbling of water boiling in the
copper, Janet's energetic cranking of the mangle
and the squishing sound as water was squeezed
from the wet clothes and sheets. Sometimes, if
she was in the right mood, Janet would allow
Eloise to turn the handle and feed the washing
through the giant rollers. It had been hard work,
but a companionable activity, and was followed
by the never varying Monday luncheon of cold
meat and mashed potatoes, served with pickled
beetroot and piccalilli. The homely memories
brought tears to Eloise's eyes and she dashed
them away quickly, before Joss could see them.
This was not the time to be sentimental. Their
very lives depended on how she handled Mother
Hilton.

Eloise waited until the time when the lodgers
who worked by day had gone about their
business, and the night people like Poll and Ivy
would still be in their beds or someone else's,
and then she went to look for Mother Hilton. She
found her in the kitchen, sitting in her chair and
shouting instructions to Minnie, her maid of all
work, as she prepared vegetables to put in with
the two large oxtails which would cook slowly
all day on the range.

'Well?' Mother Hilton said, raising her eyebrows
so that they disappeared into her mobcap.
'Have you got the money?'

'Not exactly,' Eloise murmured, setting Beth
down on the floor and watching her crawl away
towards Minnie, who was little more than a child
herself and often gave the children a carrot or a
piece of parsnip if her employer was not looking.
'What d'you mean, not exactly?' Mother
Hilton demanded, scowling ominously. 'You
either have or you ain't. You know what will
happen if I don't get the cash on the nail, now.'

'A few more days,' Eloise said, wringing her
hands. 'I assure you that I will find work, and I
will pay you in full.'

'You wasn't much cop last night, according to
what I've heard. Run away like a scared cat and
the old geezer hadn't even put his hand up your
skirt, so Poll said.'

Eloise cast an anxious glance at Joss, but he was
more interested in nibbling a piece of carrot that
Minnie had surreptitiously passed to him than in
listening to their conversation. 'I couldn't do it,'
Eloise said in a low voice. 'You're a woman; you
must understand.'

'Oh, I understand all right. But according to
what I heard yesterday in the pub, you wasn't so
fussy when it come to a certain gent what lives in
Clerkenwell Green.'

Eloise caught her breath. 'Wh-what did you
say?'

'Don't look so innocent, lady. My friend Mrs
Jarvis is a nurse, and we was enjoying a couple
of drinks in the pub last night when she
happened to tell me about a young woman who
was took on to care for an old gent by the name
of Hubble. I know all about you, missis. And I
know that there's a private detective looking for
you, and possibly a reward for them as turns
you in.'