The Spoils of Sin (6 page)

Noah Shepherd was busy as autumn rains approached, advising on the best positioning of ditches and drains, warning newcomers that the quantity of rainfall would come as a considerable shock, and they had need of careful planning to avoid inundation and damage to their precious carpets and furnishings. He paid another visit to Fanny, ten or twelve days after the first, and since then she had seen no more of him.

They made another new acquaintance in the days following the arrival of Hugo. Eli Canelli was the barber, their closest neighbour. One afternoon, as the light was fading, he knocked on their door. ‘Too soon,' called Carola. ‘Come back in an hour.' The pattern of their days had become inflexible by this time – a slow lazy morning, followed by a hearty noontide meal and a walk to aid digestion – often to the store for meat and other provisions. The hours between that and their first visitation of the night were strictly for housework, mending and washing. The stove must be cleaned out and the ashes disposed of. Their garments must be neat and sweet-smelling. There must be no dust or spider web visible.

‘I am not come for your services,' a man's voice called through the door. ‘It is a social call I wish to pay.'

Curious, Fanny lifted the latch and pulled the door open. A large smiling man stood there, holding a paper sack in the crook of his arm. ‘Mr Canelli!' Fanny greeted him.

‘Miss…Francesca? Or Carlotta? Italian names, both. I myself came from Napoli as a youngster. First to Chicago and then I brought myself here to Oregon County.'

Fanny laughed. ‘I am Francesca. But I confess we are neither of us of Italian blood. We simply felt the names to be more romantic.' She winced inwardly at this hint that Italy might be the home of easy virtue and sinful indulgence. Another wry twinge occurred at the word ‘romantic', which was far from an accurate description of the way she and Carola felt towards their work. Would the man be offended?

But the visitor showed no sign of it. ‘I have brought you something.' He pulled open the top of the bag and proffered it.

Fanny took it, and inspected the contents. ‘Candles,' she discovered, in some puzzlement. Such mundane items were hardly usual as a gift.

‘Sniff,' he urged.

She did so, and her nostrils met a heady mixture of lavender, lemon and something so sensuously musky, she felt her blood stirring. ‘Carola, come and smell these,' she invited her friend. ‘Scented candles.'

Carola leaned her face into the bag and inhaled deeply. ‘A marvel!' she approved, several seconds later. ‘What a kind thought.'

The barber moved a little way into the room and scanned its contents. ‘I did hear you had made a little piece of paradise,' he said. ‘And now I see it is true.'

Fanny became conscious of an oversight. Perhaps a number of oversights. ‘We ought to have asked you to see it, before now,' she said. ‘Will you take tea, or perhaps a glass of whiskey?'

‘I ought not stay, when I imagine you must be busy,' he demurred. ‘But I have a business proposal to make to you.' He remained standing, balancing on his solid legs. ‘You understand that I have a regular supply of gentleman through my doors. I cut their hair and trim their beards. They are very often strangers in town, passing through on their mysterious affairs. They are men with few ties, as a general rule. After all, if they had wives, they would have little need for my services. Already I have been asked as to the exact nature of this establishment, and have been unable to supply them with a first-hand account. Until now,' he smiled.

Fanny watched him closely. It was a novelty to have a man stand there so easy and undemanding, speaking as if to two ordinary townsfolk, with business to conduct. Her quick mind was already calculating what this business might comprise. Carola, at her side, was holding the bag of candles and shifting restlessly from foot to foot. ‘Until now,' she repeated, with a low chuckle.

Eli Canelli looked her full in the face. ‘You mistake me, young lady,' he said. ‘I mean nothing more than that I have finally laid eyes on your boudoir, in all its luxuriant reality.'

‘Your gentlemen,' Fanny prompted him.

‘Many of them would be eager to make your acquaintance,' he went on. ‘With a little reassurance from me, and some advice on costs and so forth, they would be more inclined to venture through your door. I can be a …supplier, you might say. A conduit through which business might flow to you.'

The idea had already formed itself, even before their building was completed. And yet, they had failed to capitalise on it. ‘We are guilty of an oversight,' said Fanny. ‘We recognise how useful you might be to us. And yet, it is not apparent just how we might repay you.' She glanced at Carola, who had adopted a mulish expression at the barber's reprimand.

‘A percentage,' said the man without hesitation.

‘Oh!' Fanny's mind worked even harder. ‘But how are we to know…that is, are we to ask every man whether he comes on your recommendation? And if he pays us repeated visits, would you claim payment every time?'

‘It will be evident from his appearance,' Eli Canelli said.

‘I think not.' Carola's voice was cool. ‘If the man's beard is trimmed before noon, and his hair washed, he will have them mussed by sundown, when he pays his call on us.'

‘Ah,' said the barber, and Fanny understood that his wits were not of the quickest sort.

‘You do not fancy payment in kind, then?' she asked directly. ‘Perhaps a weekly visit, free of charge?'

Canelli cleared his throat. ‘I have a wife,' he said thickly. ‘It was she who fashioned the candles. It is a skill she learned from her family.'

‘A wife?' Fanny frowned. ‘How is it that we have never seen her?' She scanned her memory for any instance of a woman emerging from the barber shop.

‘We have a small home, just to the south, with orchards and honeybees,' he explained. ‘My wife suffered a small accident on our voyage here, and is uneasy about appearing in society.' He lifted his chin determinedly. ‘And I have no wish to betray her in any way. She knows I have come here and she is unworried by it. Her absolute trust is all I require to avoid temptation.' He looked from one face to the other. ‘Comely young ladies as you are,' he finished gallantly.

‘What percentage were you hoping for?' Fanny pressed him. ‘Assuming we can arrive at a system whereby we recognise which men come at your bidding.'

‘Ten per cent,' he replied promptly, his eye falling on their notice of the price. ‘That would be fifty cents for every man.'

‘You must provide him with a token, then,' said Fanny, feeling proud of this piece of inventiveness. ‘A special coin or pin that he hands to us on arrival, and which cannot be used again. At the conclusion of each week, we count the tokens and pay you fifty cents for each one. That way, we will be sure it is a direct introduction from you that brings him here.'

‘That is a clever idea,' Canelli nodded. ‘And you return me the tokens for re-use?' He thought carefully. ‘I would be free to issue the same man with a second token, would I not?'

‘I think not,' said Fanny. ‘The introduction would have been made already. The fifty cents cannot be earned twice.'

‘How many men would you estimate we would gain each week?' asked Carola.

The barber spread his hands. ‘Who can say? Some weeks there might be five, another week closer to a score. There are sometimes groups who travel together, more often just one or two riding southwards.' He shrugged. ‘It seems they all head south these days.'

‘And why would they take the trouble to keep the token safe and hand it over to us?' wondered Carola. ‘There is no advantage to them in it. They might simply discard it in the gutter.'

This was a new thought for Fanny. ‘True,' she admitted. ‘We cannot give them a discount if we're already to lose ten per cent of their money.'

‘Indeed not,' said Carola. ‘And we cannot make any distinction between them and others. That would cause dissension.'

‘I might tell them that you only entertain men carrying the token,' said the barber. ‘It is like a secret sign, and must be handed over in such a way that nobody can see what goes on. It is your way of maintaining security, and protecting yourselves against those who might bring disease or violence to you.'

Carola snorted. ‘How very Italian,' she said rudely. ‘So fond of your conspiracies and secret signs. Perhaps we should construct a hidden passage between your place and this, so the men can creep unseen from one to the other.'

Fanny was torn between an amused delight at this image, and alarm at her friend's impertinence. ‘Carrie!' she protested.

‘My apologies,' said the older girl. ‘But I hold to my sense that this is becoming unduly complex. We certainly value your friendship, and your endorsement of our business. It is a relief and a pleasant surprise to find you so much in favour of our activities. Your loyalty to your wife is admirable. Your candles are quite splendid. We would be foolish to jeopardise your goodwill.'

Fanny interrupted before this speech became any more mawkish. ‘We are essentially in the same line of work,' she realised. ‘That is, helping men to feel comfortable, less travel-stained and lonesome. There is a direct connection, as we had already recognised. If you are right in thinking that a few words from you could overcome any hesitations about coming here, then that is something we should pay due recompense for. Perhaps we can simply take note of any increase in business, especially from fresh-washed and clean-shaven men, and calculate what we owe you, on that basis.'

‘That demands a considerable degree of trust on my part,' objected the man. ‘It leaves the calculations entirely to you.'

‘Not entirely,' said Fanny. ‘You will know how many men you referred to us. Assuming not every one finds the desire or the courage to follow your promptings, we might still arrive at a comparable figure each week. Forget my fanciful idea of the tokens. We must be ready to trust each other in friendship.' She held out her hand. ‘Am I right?'

He took her hand after a moment's hesitation, and shook it gently. ‘Thank you, young miss,' he said. ‘We must trust each other in friendship.' He eyed Carola thoughtfully, before giving her a smile. ‘And if I might interest you in a regular supply of candles, they will come at a price of twenty cents apiece.'

In the first week, there were eight customers identified as having come through Eli Canelli's conduit. Fanny took him four dollars and a length of velvet ribbon she had cut from a large swatch used to cover one of the couches. ‘For your wife,' she said. ‘With my humblest regards.'

If making friends were always as easy as this, she reflected, they would be top of the popularity stakes. As it was, the majority of the townsfolk acted as if they did not exist.

Over those early months Fanny learned a very great deal from the men who availed themselves of her body. Their shapes and sizes varied more than she could have guessed. One man had a tiny organ, even when at its most engorged. Another had such length that she feared for much greater injury than John had inflicted.

And then there was Charlie.

About thirty years old, pale-skinned and hesitant, he had sidled through the door late one evening, just as the girls were thinking of closing up. Fanny and Carola exchanged a practised glance, which resulted in the younger girl taking him on. Wearily, she sent him ahead, according to their routine, while she went out to the privy for the fourth time that evening.

The man undressed with his back to her, peeling his clothes slowly down his legs, and pulling them off awkwardly. ‘You need to look at me,' he said thickly.

A thrill of apprehension gripped her. This was unusual and potentially troublesome. Men liked to look at
her,
but very few demanded that she feast her eyes on something she had come to regard as unlovely and unexciting. ‘As you wish,' she said.

He turned towards her, arms crossed over his chest, face shadowed as he ducked his chin. His naked belly and hips were smooth and lean. His body was washed and entirely acceptable. But at the base of his torso was a monstrosity. Ridged with scar tissue, bent and dry, it resembled nothing Fanny had thus far witnessed. ‘What happened?' she gasped.

‘A botched circumcision as an infant. It went septic and a sawbones had to remove some of it.'

She stared, first at the deformed stump of an organ, then at his face. ‘Circumcision?' The word was not new to her, appearing as it did in the Bible, but she had yet to witness its physical effects. ‘Can you…? Does it…?'

‘I can piss,' he said shortly. ‘For the rest, it remains to be seen.'

‘Why did they do it to you?'

He shook his head in disbelief. ‘A woman in your business must surely be aware of the practice. Do you not have any Jews amongst your visitors?'

She remained bemused. ‘Jews?' She thought again of the references in the Bible. ‘Oh. I guess not.' She took a closer look. ‘What were they intending to do?'

‘They remove the foreskin, when the child is a few days of age. My mother is a Jewess, and insisted upon it. She by rights ought to regularly implore my forgiveness. But instead she behaves as if nothing is amiss, and runs from the room if she suspects the matter might be mentioned. Which of course it never could be. It merely hangs in the air like a smell.'

‘She should be consumed by guilt,' said Fanny with feeling. ‘The idea is barbarous.'

‘I agree,' he nodded, and lifted the mangled organ with one hand. ‘I have been years summoning the guts to do what I am doing now. You are young and soft, from the looks of you. I ask you to permit this attempt, this
experiment.
There is no hazard to you. It might be that I require more assistance than you would normally provide, but I trust that will not discommode you.' He forced out the words, without meeting her eyes.