The Workhouse Girl (17 page)

The drizzle had turned into a downpour, but at least it saved her from being set upon. The women and children took shelter in the dilapidated buildings and the men gathered in a tighter knot around the fire. Sarah raced across the slippery cobblestones, avoiding the worst piles of filth and excrement that littered the street. She could see the spire of St Mary le Strand, but as she turned the corner into the comparative safety of Wych Street she cannoned into someone coming from the opposite direction and they both tumbled to the ground.

‘Look where you're damn well going.' The young woman's crinoline cage hampered her attempts to rise and she lay on her back, flailing her legs like an upturned beetle.

Sarah scrambled to her feet and proffered her hand. ‘Catch hold.'

‘Ho. There's a pretty sight.'

Sarah looked up and frowned at a group of men standing nearby who were openly laughing at their plight. ‘If you were gents you'd help a lady in distress.'

‘If we was gents we wouldn't be enjoying the sight of a young lady's drawers.' The younger of the men tipped his cap. ‘And as fine a pair of props as I ever saw.'

The girl grabbed Sarah's hand and struggled to her feet, adjusting her skirts. ‘Shut up you idiot,' she cried, shaking her fist. ‘These are my best duds and they're ruined.'

The young man grinned. ‘A bit of mud won't hurt you, love.'

‘Good for the complexion,' his mate added, chuckling. ‘You'll have a lovely arse when it's washed clean. I'll volunteer for that job, miss.'

‘Oh, will you now.' She bent down and scooped up a handful of mud mixed with straw and rotten vegetables and threw it in his face. ‘How d'you like it, cully?'

Coughing and spluttering he made as if to strike her but his friend caught him by the arm. ‘You asked for that, chum. C'mon, let's get you cleaned up or we'll be late back at work and we'll be for it.' His companion allowed himself to be dragged away, still uttering dire threats.

Sarah stared at the girl, who was tut-tutting and twisting round in an attempt to see the damage to her green satin gown. Her hat had come off and her copper curls cascaded around her shoulders. Sarah could hardly believe her eyes and her breath caught in her throat. ‘Nettie? Is it really you?'

‘Who's asking?' Nettie turned her head and her eyes widened. ‘Little Sal Scratch? Is it you, all grown up and covered with mud?'

They fell into each other's arms, laughing and crying. ‘I can't believe it,' Sarah gasped. ‘I never thought I'd see you again.'

‘And you almost killed me,' Nettie said, wiping tears from her cheeks and leaving smudges of dirt in their place. ‘What was you running from? It couldn't have been Trigg this time.'

‘Oh, Nettie. I've got such a lot to tell you and I'm getting soaked to the skin.'

‘So am I, but who cares? I've found me little sister and she's even prettier than she was all those years ago. I'd be jealous if I wasn't such a beauty meself.' She slipped her arm round Sarah's waist. ‘Come with me. We'll get you cleaned up and we'll have a nice hot cup of tea with a slug of gin in it, and you can tell me how you come to be in London. I thought you was living the life of a country lady, but you look a bit of a mess if I'm to be honest.'

‘We could go to Grey's lodgings,' Sarah said shyly. ‘It's not very grand but at least it'll be out of the rain.'

‘You're not . . .' Nettie stared at her, eyebrows raised.

‘Oh, no. Nothing like that.'

‘We'll go to my dressing room and you can tell me everything.' Nettie pointed to the impressive façade of the Olympic Theatre. ‘I'm an actress now, Sarah. I told you I would be famous one day, and I'm well on me way. Come inside and we'll get you out of those terrible duds and into something that don't look as though it came from a dollyshop.'

She led Sarah through the stage door, past a grumpy-looking doorkeeper who glared at them and told them to be quiet, which made them giggle even louder. They were helpless with laughter by the time they reached the stuffy dressing room shared by the younger and least important members of the cast. The stale air was filled with the smell of greasepaint, cheap perfume and the rancid odour of tallow candles, but Nettie seemed not to notice. She dragged Sarah in and closed the door. ‘This is where we get made up to go on stage,' she said with an expansive gesture. ‘We have all sorts of lovely costumes and satin shoes dyed to match. That's when we're doing musical burlesques. Sometimes we do serious plays and I've only had small parts so far, but I'm going to be a star like Nellie Farren or die in the attempt.'

Sarah was left breathless by Nettie's enthusiasm as much as the suffocating atmosphere in the windowless room. She gazed round at the racks of brightly coloured costumes and shelves piled high with hats, shoes and plumes made of ostrich feathers. ‘Well, I never.'

Nettle chortled with delight. ‘I can tell that you're impressed, nipper.' She gave Sarah an affectionate hug. ‘Not so much a kid now though, are you? But if you don't mind me saying so, you look a fright, although I daresay you'd clean up nicely.'

‘This is all I've got,' Sarah said, taking off her soggy straw bonnet. ‘There was a fire and we lost everything. I was looking for a dollyshop when it started to rain.'

‘That dress is awful anyway.' Nettie turned her back to Sarah. ‘Undo me buttons, there's a love. I'll have to bribe the wardrobe mistress with some bonbons so that she'll wash my gown for me. She's a miserable old cow, but she's got a sweet tooth.' She pulled a face. ‘Actually she's got hardly any teeth at all but she can suck a piece of barley sugar and smack her gums together on a slice of cake, but no one dares laugh at her because she's got a temper and she's not above taking the scissors to a costume if someone gets on the wrong side of her.'

Sarah frowned as she concentrated on undoing the row of tiny satin-covered buttons. ‘She sounds terrifying.'

‘Hurry up, do. I'm shivering and it doesn't do my voice any good.' Nettie cleared her throat. ‘Do re mi fa so la te do,' she sang as if to prove a point. ‘See what I mean?'

‘I'm doing my best, and you've got a lovely voice so I wouldn't worry if I were you.' Sarah did not add that she was also soaked to the skin and equally cold, but then Nettie always had to be the best. She did not mind. It was wonderful to see her again and she could still hardly believe the piece of good fortune that had caused their paths to cross.

Nettie turned her head to stare at her. ‘Who taught you to talk like a toff?'

‘I didn't know that I did.'

‘Well, you do and it sounds funny. I'm trying to lose me cockney accent so I can act proper but it ain't easy.'

‘How long have you been an actress? Do you still live in Wellclose Square?'

Nettie tossed her head. ‘I should think not. I share digs with Nellie and three of the other girls.' She glanced at Sarah's reflection in the dressing table mirror and smiled. ‘But I do visit them on my days off. It was Cook who introduced me to the manager of this theatre and he gave me an audition. I'm understudy to Nellie in
Faust
and
Marguerite
this coming week.'

‘That's wonderful,' Sarah said enthusiastically. ‘Cook must be so proud of you.'

‘She is, and I have to tell her everything that goes on in the theatre. If it weren't for her taking us to Wilton's music hall I'd probably still be a housemaid.'

‘So Mrs Burgess is still working for the Arbuthnots?'

‘Yes, and Dorcas too.' Nettie twisted round in an attempt to see what Sarah was doing. ‘Aren't you finished yet?'

‘Nearly.' Sarah's cold fingers fumbled with the buttons but she managed to undo the last one. ‘There you are.'

Nettie shrugged the gown off her shoulders and allowed it to slide to the floor. She plucked a cotton wrap from one of the rails and slipped it on. ‘Now you, Sarah. Your teeth are chattering and you're turning blue. Get that awful print frock off and I'll find you something else to wear.'

Minutes later Sarah was dressed in a pale blue cambric gown with a lace collar and cuffs. Nettie looked her up and down with a satisfied smile. ‘There, you look half decent and it suits you better than it did me.'

‘It's your dress?'

‘Miss Gant made it for me and I always felt like a Sunday school teacher in it, so now it's yours.'

‘Thank you, but are you sure?'

‘Stop fussing and take a seat while I sort out your hair. Gawd knows what you do in the country but it looks like a bird's nest.'

Sarah stared into the mirror, watching in amazement as Nettie brushed her fair hair until it shone like silk and wound it into a coil at the nape of her neck. She put the last pin in place with a cry of triumph. ‘There! That's a miracle in itself. Just look at yourself, Sarah Scrase. What d'you think?'

‘It's amazing,' Sarah said, turning her head from side to side to get the full effect. ‘You're so clever, Nettie.'

‘I know I am. I've many talents, duck. If I don't succeed in the theatre I could always get a job as a lady's maid. But I'll make it, I know I will. My name will be top of the bill one day.'

‘I'm sure you're right.' Sarah stood up, marvelling at her altered appearance. ‘I've only ever seen bits of me in a looking glass,' she confessed shyly. ‘Miss Elsie's house was very small and we were quite poor.'

Nettie pulled up a chair. ‘Tell me everything that's happened to you since you was taken from us. Mrs Arbuthnot told Cook that you was safe in Essex and that it was best that you stayed there until such time as the sugar mill was rebuilt.'

‘That's what Grey told me.'

‘We all suspected Trigg, but no one could prove the bastard did it.'

‘He blamed me for everything. I think he would have killed me if he thought he could get away with it, but he left it to Grey to get rid of me.'

‘You was lucky; that's all I can say. But we didn't know what had happened to you for ages. The master had the police looking for you and the mistress cried for days. We was all upset, even Betty, although the poor soul didn't really understand what was going on.'

‘It was bad enough for me and I was scared stiff, but Grey was kind in his own way. I'll never forget that he gave me an apple as a Christmas present because that was all he had to give, but then he left me with Miss Elsie in a tumbledown cottage in the middle of the marshes. I was really scared in the beginning but he came back every now and again and I got used to Miss Elsie and her strange ways. Now I'm really fond of her and I can't bear to think of her suffering.'

Nettie cocked her head on one side, looking thoughtful. ‘Sounds to me like you've got a soft spot for Grey as well as the old lady.'

‘No, of course I haven't,' Sarah said hastily. ‘And he only came back because he was doing business for Miss Elsie. I found out later that they were related, although you wouldn't think so if you saw them together.'

‘It all sounds like a rum do to me, but here you are now and seemingly none the worse for it.'

‘That's enough about me, Nettie. Tell me more about Wellclose Square. Did the master rebuild the sugar mill?'

‘He's never recovered completely from the seizure he suffered after the fire. There was no money coming in, so the mistress was forced to take in gentlemen lodgers. She and the master have use of the front parlour, but all the best rooms are given over to commercial travellers and suchlike. She kept Cook, Dorcas and Betty on, although they don't always get their wages.'

‘I thought Dorcas would have married her young man by now.'

‘She keeps poor Wally dangling, although between you and me I think she's always had a soft spot for Franz Beckman, but he has a fancy for Miss Parfitt.'

‘And does Miss Parfitt like Franz?'

‘Who's to say? She's always so sweet and calm. I can't imagine her being passionate about anything or anyone. She teaches at a school in Princes Street, near London Docks, but she comes to tea with Mrs Burgess and Dorcas once a week.'

‘I'd like to see them all again, Nettie. D'you think it would be all right if I went to call on Mrs Arbuthnot?'

‘More than all right, nipper. I'm sure she'd be happy to see you again, and so would the others.' Nettie looked round as the door opened and three girls rushed in, chattering and laughing like a horde of brightly coloured parakeets. Nettie rose to her feet and took off her wrap. ‘You'll have to go, Sarah. It's rehearsal time.' She reached out her hand and snatched a costume from the rack.

‘Who is this?' One of the girls stared curiously at Sarah. ‘Are you a performer, love? What's your speciality? The cancan? They do it in Paris with bare bums, or so I've been told.'

Nettie scowled at her. ‘Leave her alone, Mabel. She's my friend.'

‘Sorry, I'm sure,' Mabel said, shrugging. ‘I only asked.'

‘I'd best go.' Sarah backed towards the doorway. ‘Maybe I'll see you later.'

‘They're a nosey lot,' Nettie said loudly. ‘Tell me where you're lodging and I'll come to call for you tomorrow morning. There's no rehearsal so I won't be needed until the evening performance. We'll get the omnibus to Wellclose Square and give them all a lovely surprise. How about that?'

‘Best get your costume on, Beanie,' Mabel said, nudging Nettie in the ribs. ‘You know how cross Mr Wigan gets if we're late on stage.'

‘All right, don't keep on so.' Nettie put her arms around Sarah, giving her a hearty hug. ‘What number Wych Street?'

‘I'm not sure, but it's at the back of an apothecary's shop, the last door on the right.' Sarah picked up her gown and ruined bonnet.

Mabel looked her up and down. ‘Ain't that one of Beanie's old gowns?'