Never Look Back (25 page)

Rosa grimaced. ‘I surely can’t stand another hour of this,’ she said. ‘Let’s just slip out while no one’s looking and go down to Castle Green.’

Matilda knew that the Milsons would be horrified if she did such a thing. The concert hall at Castle Clinton was considered a smart place to go, but the Green surrounding it was reported to be crowded with dubious people at night. It was also too cold to go wandering about. But she didn’t want to stay at the dance either, nor did she want her new friend to think her dull and unadventurous.

Rosa must have sensed her wavering. ‘Come on, you’ve gotta see it or you ain’t seen nothing. I’ll tell one of the chaperones Mrs Arkwright’s coachman is here to collect us.’

The moment the girls had left the church hall and Matilda heard the familiar sound of a hurdy-gurdy in the distance, her misgivings left her and excitement took their place. The sound was so evocative of London and the freedom she’d enjoyed before going to work for the Milsons. No harm could come to them in just an hour, and she wanted something jolly to take her mind off those children in New Jersey.

As they turned into the street by the Green the sight that met her eyes thrilled her. It was as good as any street fair in London. Hundreds of people were milling around, hurricane lamps hanging from trees and more on the many stalls made it as light as day, and music was coming from all directions.

Right in the centre there was a carousel, and as the horses pranced sedately up and down and around, the lamps caught the mirrored central pedestal and made a dazzling light show in the darkness. As they joined the jostling crowd the first thing Matilda saw was a big brown bear dancing on a lead, and she clapped her hands with delight.

‘Like it?’ Rosa said, taking her arms and making her do a polka with her to the sound of a gypsy fiddler.

‘It’s better than London,’ Matilda gasped, breaking away from
the dance because people were looking at them. She didn’t know where to look first, there were so many stalls selling ice-cream, oysters and fruit, and pretty hair ribbons fluttering in the breeze. ‘But I just hope no one recognizes me,’ she added.

‘Church people don’t come down here,’ Rosa laughed, nudging her friend to look at a couple of very gaudily dressed women wearing paint on their faces. ‘And if there are, they are probably looking for mischief just like us, so they won’t be telling.’

‘I didn’t know New York was like this at night,’ Matilda said, stopping to listen for a minute to a man playing the penny whistle. ‘I got the idea everyone was kind of serious.’

‘Serious! New Yorkers?’ Rosa’s dark eyes danced. ‘You’ve only met the snooty ones. You should see the Bowery, that’s wild at night.’

It occurred to Matilda then that Rosa seemed very worldly for a maid, and it made her feel just a little uneasy, yet after the stuffiness of the dance, it was exhilarating to be in a noisy, carefree crowd.

A little later Matilda was just going to suggest they had an ice-cream, even though it was really too cold, when two gentlemen in silk hats and frock-coats came up to them.

‘Good evening, ladies,’ the taller of the two said, and raised his hat. ‘May we walk with you?’

Rosa giggled. ‘Certainly, sir,’ she replied, and to Matilda’s surprise she winked at her friend and took the man’s arm.

Matilda might never have had a young man but she had learnt a great deal about men by observation back in London’s streets. Instinct told her these two men had taken her and Rosa for prostitutes.

‘No, Rosa,’ she said, thinking her friend hadn’t realized. But as she spoke the second man stepped in front of her and looked her right in the face. She thought he was around thirty, his face was very flushed with drink, and there was a cold look in his eyes that made her even more nervous.

‘Come on,’ he said, holding out his arm. ‘We both know what we’re here for.’

‘You are mistaken in why we are here,’ she said with all the haughtiness she could muster. ‘We just came to look around. Now, if you are a gentleman kindly leave us alone.’ She quickly
dodged past him and ran to Rosa who was already some distance away with the taller man.

Grabbing her friend’s free arm, she hissed in her ear, ‘Come away. They think we’re gay.’

But to her dismay Rosa only laughed and shrugged her off, turning her face up to her companion and resuming their conversation.

Matilda thought perhaps the word ‘gay’ wasn’t in use in America and she was just opening her mouth to say something coarser, when the other man caught hold of her wrist and yanked her away.

‘Come on, blondy,’ he said. ‘Your pal knows what she’s doing and I bet you do too if the price is right.’

Dozens of men had propositioned her in her time selling flowers, it was one of the perils of the job, but Matilda had quickly learnt that once a man actually caught hold of her, actions went a great deal further than words. She shook off his hand, tightened her right one into a fist and punched him in the chin.

He reeled back, more with surprise than hurt. ‘Well, you little vixen,’ he said in astonishment. ‘What saloon did you learn that in?’

If it hadn’t been for Rosa, she would have fled immediately. By hitting the man she had attracted attention to herself and the crowd around stopped to watch. Yet still imagining her friend was too innocent to know what was going on, she ran back to her and tried to pull her forcefully away from her escort. But as she caught hold of Rosa by the arm, the man she’d hit came up behind her and this time grabbed her right around the middle, trapping her arms.

‘Rosa, they think we are whores,’ she yelled.

To Matilda’s dismay the gathering crowd let out a cheer and began clapping, perhaps thinking they were watching some kind of street act. But the humiliation of that was nothing compared to the shock of seeing Rosa turn to frown at her in irritation, and suddenly realizing she knew exactly what she was doing.

‘Let me go, you oaf,’ Matilda screamed out, but her bonnet tipped over her eyes as she struggled to get free and she couldn’t see.

She heard a thud and simultaneously she was lurched forward.
‘Let the lady go if you know what’s good for you,’ a deep Irish voice called out. ‘Or I’ll break your head, so help me.’

The sudden release from the man’s hands toppled her, but she recovered her footing, flicked her bonnet back on to her head and turned to see a tall, dark-haired man sparring up to the one who had caught her.

‘She’s no lady,’ he was saying with some indignation. ‘And what’s it to you anyway?’

‘She’s my girl, that’s what,’ the Irishman said and with that threw a punch that laid the man right out on the grass.

Matilda backed away in horror. More people were rushing over to watch and someone among them was bound to know who she was. Rosa and the other man had disappeared.

She moved then, picking up her skirt with both hands, and ran away towards State Street.

‘Don’t run from me, darlin’,’ she heard the Irishman call out behind her. ‘It ain’t safe to be out on yer own. Let me take you’s home.’

She faltered at the edge of the Green. The bright lights were behind her now and in front was total darkness. She knew the man was right, it wasn’t safe to be alone, and besides, she ought at least to thank him for coming to her rescue.

As he breathlessly caught up with her, and she saw the concern on his face, she suddenly began to cry with shock, covering her face with her hands.

‘Oh, me darlin’, don’t cry,’ he said. ‘There’s folks watching us and they’ll be thinkin’ I’ve hurt you.’

He said his name was Flynn O’Reilly, and getting out a handkerchief from his pocket he mopped at her face. ‘Now, where are ye staying?’ he asked. ‘And what were ye thinking of to come out here at night?’

She managed to get out that she was the minister’s nursemaid and that she lived in State Street, and that Rosa had let her down, but it was a second or two before she noticed how young and handsome the man was. His hair was black and curly, the lights behind him making it shine like wet seaweed. There wasn’t enough light to see the colour of his eyes, only the concern in them, and his teeth were very white.

‘I must get home now,’ she gasped out. ‘Thank you for saving me from that man. I won’t ever go there again.’

He lifted her chin with his hand and smiled down at her. ‘You must stop shaking before you get home,’ he said in a soft and soothing voice. ‘Or your mistress will want to know what’s happened to you.’ With that his arms slid around her and before she could even think of protesting he was holding her tightly against him, stroking her back.

She knew she shouldn’t be allowing such familiarity with a total stranger, but it was so good to be held, such a safe, warm feeling, and even though she knew nothing more of him than his name, she didn’t want to break away.

‘I said you was my girl back there without thinking,’ he said against the side of her bonnet. ‘But it seems to me now I’m holding you that a good fairy waved her wand tonight.’

He moved her away from him, holding both her elbows, and looked into her eyes. ‘My, but you’re lovely,’ he whispered. ‘I just have to kiss you or die.’

Reason told her to run, yet she couldn’t, an invisible force seemed to hold her motionless as his mouth came down on hers. She closed her eyes involuntarily, and his lips were warm and so soft, she just gave herself up to them. There were people walking by, perhaps even some who knew her, but in that brief moment of sweetness she didn’t care.

‘Am I to be told the name of the angel in the pink dress, whose lips taste of honey?’ he whispered as he finally drew away.

She knew she ought to laugh, to think of a quick retort, yet she couldn’t. ‘Matilda Jennings,’ she whispered back.

‘Well, my little Matilda,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I’d very much like to persuade you to stay out with me. But I guess you’d be in trouble if I did that, so I’d better walk you home.’

At the door of the house in State Street, he squeezed her hand. ‘What day do you have off?’ he asked.

‘Usually Fridays,’ she said, whispering in case the Milsons should hear them and look out.

‘Will you meet me then?’ he said.

She nodded, hardly able to believe she was doing this.

‘I’ll be at the Tontine coffee house between two and three in the afternoon,’ he said, reaching out to stroke her cheek lightly. ‘Now, go on in and keep calm. Don’t tell your mistress about your friend. She’ll be in deep trouble soon enough without you bringing it down on her.’

He walked away as she put her hand out to turn the door knob. His step was so light she could scarcely hear it, but as she opened the door, he turned and blew her a kiss.

Matilda had no idea how she managed to walk into the parlour, tell her master and mistress she’d enjoyed the dance, then join them in the evening prayers, all without giving anything away.

As she said the Lord’s Prayer, her eyes tightly shut, the words ‘Forgive us our trespasses, and forgive those who trespass against us’ had real meaning for once. She ought to hate Rosa and that terrible bully of a man, yet if it hadn’t been for them she wouldn’t have met Flynn.

Up in bed later, she whispered his name in the dark and when she relived his kiss she felt as if her whole body was on fire.

‘No good will come of it,’ she warned herself. Yet to wait six days before she could see him again seemed to be the worst aspect of it.

Chapter Seven

Matilda’s heart seemed to be beating absurdly loudly as she made her way to the Tontine coffee house on Friday afternoon. She felt hot all over too, even though it had turned very cold with the sudden onset of autumn. They called it the fall here, but instead of golden leaves swirling around in the strong wind, like she remembered back in Primrose Hill, here there were only bits of rubbish, for there were few trees in this part of New York.

She was wearing a straw boater-style hat which Lily had given her, but now she wondered if she had been wrong to replace the original dark blue ribbon with a bright red one. What if red was too forward a colour?

‘It’s too late to worry about that now,’ she said to herself. ‘He’ll have to take you as you are.’

She had scarcely thought of anything else but Flynn all week, reminding herself constantly that she had only seen him in darkness, and then only for a few minutes, so he might turn out to be ugly, stupid, or even married. Yet for some strange reason it was the thought of him being married that frightened her the most.

As she passed by the Arkwrights’ house she glanced up at the windows. It was one of the smart Federal-style houses, four floors and a fan-shaped window over the front door, and she imagined it to be very elegant inside. She wondered if Rosa was watching her pass by from behind the lace blinds, and feeling ashamed.

Matilda hadn’t gone to the Bible class on Wednesday because she couldn’t face seeing the girl again. Yet maybe she should have gone, if only to find out why Rosa behaved as she did. Was she so stupid that she imagined that was the way to find a ‘gentleman’ who would fall in love with her and marry her? Or was it because she needed the money to help out her family? Yet
whatever the reason, she shouldn’t have taken Matilda along with her, or left her there when everything turned nasty.

But as Matilda turned the corner and saw Flynn waiting outside the Tontine coffee house for her, she forgave Rosa. The first thing that struck her about him was that he was even more handsome than she’d imagined. The second was that he looked very poor.

This surprised her most, for his voice and confident manner had evoked in her mind the image of someone from the upper classes. Even at a distance of some thirty feet she could see his suit had been bought second-hand off a barrow, it was shiny with age and too large for his slender frame. Yet the grey derby hat tilted back on to his dark curls gave him an appealing, rakish air, and the joyful smile that lit up his face as he saw her coming suggested he shared her excitement.

‘Matilda!’ he exclaimed, opening his arms wide as if intending to hug her there in the street. But then, as if remembering this wasn’t the way things were done, he stopped and grinned sheepishly. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Jennings,’ he said, raising his hat. ‘How do you do?’