A Wanton Tale (14 page)

Alice was walking with Larry, the other children and the rest of the street performers. They arrived at a wide open grassy spot. She felt a sense of elation in the short time it seemed to take to arrive there. They were on top of a hill, looking down at the river which was some distance away. It must have been a couple of miles. She looked to the left and could see hundreds of rooves and chimneys which were familiar. She knew it was the heart of Liverpool, the grey outline of the court dwellings and terraces were unmistakable.

The sun was shining, the water of the river was glistening. Alice felt that she had been transported to another world. For the first time in her life she was happy. She was transfixed in the moment. She blanked out the memory of Betsy and Freddie, that awful house, the other girls and the hideous punters and what they had done to her. The horrific sense of shame and anger that she had felt, had suddenly left her. She was a child again, this was a new experience, her stolen childhood was back.

Alice looked down and beneath her feet was grass, she had never seen grass before. There was a labyrinth of pathways and trees too. There were other children playing on swings and see saws. She was at the top of Rupert’s Hill in Everton, a part of town she had never been to before. The air was fresh, far removed from the heavy choking smoke of the middle of town. Larry removed his top hat and invited them all to sit down.

Alice was fascinated by this unusual character with the unbelievable green eyes, his hair like flames from a fire. Larry and the other artists appeared to earn well as they had travelled along. He was an oddity who was born with a particular gift to entertain and to help people.

Larry looked strangely old fashioned, she had never seen a man dressed like him before. It was as though he was from another place, another time, from a bygone era. However, she was drawn to him, she liked him but didn’t know why, most of all she trusted him. For the first time in her life she felt safe.

She soon discovered that ‘Larry The Hat’ was a wizard. He waved his fire eating wand and in seconds a magnificent picnic feast appeared.

‘Where do you live?’ Asked Alice of the boy sat next to her.

‘Here. Close by. Larry has a gift of finding dark corners where he can rescue drained figures of humanity who have sunk to the depths of despair. They are children, he is the ‘saviour’ of fallen children. Look around you and be happy with us.’

From now on she would never go hungry or be badly treated. She knew there would be warmth, happiness, love and laughter. Looking across at her, Larry was pleased that he’d saved her, as he had saved all the others from lives of penury and hell.

‘You’ve got to find her. Remember, she is a whore.’ Said Freddie to Betsy in the front parlour which was clouded by the oppressive vapours of cigar smoke. ‘Once a whore, always a whore and she’ll be working somewhere, or she might have fucked off with one of the punters.’

Freddie’s bloodshot eyes glanced up at the ornate ceiling rosette, the twinkling glass of the chandelier was becoming out of focus. As usual, he’d had too much to drink. He didn’t care one bit about Alice, as far as he was concerned she was just something to be bought and sold.

‘All you’re worried about is having your share of the money the little harlot can earn us. I dare say you’ve told that toff we’ll soon have another an’ all. Well, I am more brainy than you, you drunken fool. Yes, we need the money, what with losing the other one, the writing’s on the wall. Those two upstairs will abandon us. But, more seriously, we don’t want her telling folks, in particular the law, you know, what she’s been doing under this roof.’

Both he and Betsy fell quiet. Each had their own thoughts as to where she might be. Her disappearance posed more questions than answers. They knew that she hadn’t taken a stitch of clothing with her. Her collection of shoes, handbags and jewellery were all still there as were the rest of her belongings.

‘She’ll come back, surely she wouldn’t walk out of ‘ere in just the clothes she was stood in.’ Chirped in Freddie. The look on Betsy’s face told him that she was unconvinced.

‘She’s taken all her fucking lolly with her, that’s for sure.’

Despite hanging a baited hook to Lottie Boyle that she would buy another of her daughters, Betsy was now beginning to get the wind up. She was mindful that Alice was effectively a child who they had forced into sexual slavery. She was aware of the recent publicity. She had read a story in the papers about an underage girl in London. A reporter had found out she was working as a prostitute, the investigation had made lurid front page headlines. After the furore, Betsy had become fully aware of the consequences if either her or Freddie were ever found out.

She would therefore have to keep her disappearance a secret. She couldn’t possibly tell the Boyles that Alice was missing and decided to keep a low profile. From now on, she would be on her guard, they both decided to give the local alehouses a wide berth. She knew that the landlord of the George Tavern was definitely onto her.

Maurice was in the Vines public house on Lime Street, he was supping a large scotch from a plain cheap glass. His day dream was broken by the appearance of Lily. She was arm in arm with a man he vaguely knew around town. As far as Maurice was concerned, he was a jumped up little guttersnipe who dealt in property. He often wondered how such a common man had acquired so many houses.

Maurice wasn’t keen on the red haired tart from the Hale’s bordello, but he had heard rumours that she had moved up in the world, she now had her own place. As he sat pondering, he fiddled with his fine white handkerchief which was beautifully worked with gold at the hems.

‘Maybe Lily will find me a young one, just as the old hag Betsy did.’ He mused.

Maurice overheard Lily’s companion talking, he had a voice that carried. From Sid’s extrovert character and manner of speech, Maurice understood the code of his language, he was luring punters for Lily’s house.

Before long, Maurice overheard that Lily was at number 55 Seymour Street. ‘Crafty red haired bitch.’ He never liked her and knew she disliked him but business was business. Every now and then he fancied a redhead and liking the woman didn’t come into it.

Behind her tough exterior, Lily hated the likes of Maurice for the harm they did to young girls. Unbeknown to Maurice, Lily had seen him. Remembering the sight of Alice after the toff had ruined her, Lily made a mental note to seek revenge for her. She detested the man.

After one drink at the bar, the ‘couple’ had left. Their voices blended with the chatter of patrons and the chinking of glasses.

Within moments of them leaving, Freddie appeared, despite him promising Betsy that he would stay out of alehouses. He approached Maurice, looking flustered and agitated. Maurice lit a cigar, an expensive Havana, and blew his first puff straight into Freddie’s pale, grim face.

‘By a whisker, you just missed your absent little whore Lily and her gentleman friend, Freddie old boy. I believe that she’s acquired a nice little property for herself, 55 Seymour Street.’

Freddie was taken aback. ‘Was Alice with her?’ Asked Freddie with a note of panic in his voice.

‘No.’ Said Maurice his curiosity aroused. ‘Why? Do you have a problem? I told you I saw her with street people. You haven’t let the little chit slip through your fingers have you?’

Freddie paused and then told Maurice the whole story. As Freddie concluded his tale Maurice stood up.

‘Goodbye Freddie.’ He said quietly as he walked away. ‘You’re on your own with this. Find me another. My money is good and I’ll see you and Mrs. Hale right.’

Sophie was enthralled by the tales of the past. After hearing the true horrors of life at that time, she was feeling emotional and physically sick.

‘Jessie must be nineteen now.’ Said Sophie.

Margaret nodded.

Jessie was nineteen, she had been well brought up by her aunty and her husband Joe. Jessie thought of Aunty Margaret as a real mother and was good company when her husband was away at sea. The couple made sure that she was well educated, she attended Notre Dame School for Girls.

Margaret and Joe had adopted Jessie legally. Joe went on many long voyages to the Tropics and it was on one of these trips that he died of a fever.

Sadly, he hadn’t seen Jessie married when she was eighteen. She married a tailor and with her new husband set up their own business in New Brighton, ‘over the water.’

The wedding was a proud day for Aunty Margaret. She remembered taking her on when she was only six, when all the odds had been stacked against her. Life had been terrible for all of her sister’s children. By 1900, Jessie’s own mother, Lottie was long dead, but she hadn’t forgotten her. Jessie’s memories of her early days remained vivid and stayed with her for the rest of her life.

Sophie was still listening intently, her mature little face hid the shock at what she had heard. By now she knew all the characters and their names. Their stories had been brought to life like the plot in a tragic novel. She had read Charles Dicken’s complete works and one novel was particularly poignant in her mind, the book was called Hard Times. The author had even enrolled as a special constable in Liverpool to seek out characters and atmosphere for his novels. Sophie knew all about grinding poverty which forced people to resort to the workhouse, the plight of street walkers and beggars. Now she was hearing from people who had witnessed and lived through this level of despair and it was heartbreaking to listen to.

Margaret stood up and snatched her shawl which was draped on the back of her chair. With a flourish, she wrapped it around her shoulders and brusquely announced that she would be going out. She had weighed up Sophie’s figure, having brought up Jessie, her niece. She knew what size clothes would fit her.

‘Can’t have you flaunting yourself around here scantily clad like this.’ She reached out with her chubby fingers and rubbed the thin muslin material at the bottom of Sophie’s dress. Margaret frowned as though she was examining material in a shop. She looked her up and down with disapproval.

‘I’m off to buy you some sensible clothes, now you stay here with Jim. Neither of you are to go out until I return.’

She went into the hall and plonked on her hat which was hanging on the coat stand. She put on her gloves and slipped her arm through the handle of her bag. She was going to town on the tram.

‘I expect I’ll have to wear those horrid clothes.’ Said Sophie with a wry smile. Jim looked puzzled.

‘Like the women I saw at the fairground in New Brighton, long skirts and capes, all heavy and cumbersome.’

Jim shrugged, ‘There’s nothin’ wrong with them, better than that thing you’re wearing, can see all your drawers.’ Sophie burst out laughing, she was getting back her spirit, no longer scared of being in 1900.

Margaret was soon back and helping Sophie into a new dress. She was standing in front of the full length mirror in the bedroom. The sun had started to go down and flooded into the west facing window.

She was far from impressed with her new mode of dress. Her hair was neatly pinned under a deep crown hat with a ribbon, the style was for a slightly older girl. Margaret thought it was wise to make her look a little older than her real age. In this mode of dress she could pass for sixteen and would be able walk out more freely. Sophie felt even older than that. Margaret briefly left the room, leaving Sophie to get used to her new look.

As the warmth of the evening sun penetrated the lace curtains she could see the reflection of a figure behind her. She could make out a top hat, straggly red hair and a fixed smile, she immediately recognised Larry. She gasped and turned around. He had gone. He had appeared solid enough but just vanished like an apparition.

‘Is anything the matter?’ Asked Margaret who had come back into the room.

‘No I’m fine thank you.’ Said Sophie but she was distracted by a voice in her head. It was Larry’s voice, strong and clear. He told her that he needed her help to rescue two girls.

‘It’s your time now Sophie. I need you to help me. The girls are Rachel and Ruby, Jim’s sisters. Remember?’

A vision of the girls and where they were living was right there before her in a blurred black and white image.

She promised Larry that she wouldn’t let him down. As she mouthed this promise she was oblivious to Aunty Margaret who was now looking on from just inside the door.

‘What did you say luv?’

‘Nothing.’

‘I heard you talking, do you often talk to yourself?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘Oh well then I suppose, I’ll have to get used to it.’ Margaret was smiling warmly. Sophie was pleased that she’d started her mission and knew what she had to do.

B
etsy was in the front parlour poking the fire impatiently. Although it was summer, she liked to have a small fire going at night to help ease her aches and pains. Freddie was standing, staring out of the window. He was not expecting a punter, he was lost in his own thoughts. He knew how distraught Betsy was about losing Lily and Alice and didn’t want to aggravate her further. All day he’d been waiting his opportunity to tell Betsy what he had heard from Maurice in the alehouse. He decided that this was his moment.

‘Maurice told me that he saw Lily last night. She was swanning around the Vines like the Queen of Sheba, walked in, arm in arm with that cunt struck Sid.’ Freddie spoke quickly, he was anxious, terrified of Betsy’s reaction but the time had come to get it out in the open.

‘Slow down a minute Freddie. Sid who?’

‘The landlord, you know Sidney. Comes here regular. Lily was always his favourite. The little runt’s a man of means, owns quite a few properties.’

It then dawned on Betsy who he meant. There were that many men coming and going they had become nameless faces.

‘I have the impression that she might have bought a house off him. According to Maurice, it is 55 Seymour Street.’

This news was too much for Betsy to stomach, she couldn’t believe that Lily had bought a property. She glowered in disbelief at Freddie. ‘You what? What did you say? Where did she get the fucking money from?’ She was incandescent with rage. Freddie went quiet.