Mermaids Singing - Chapter 1

A long shadow fell across the muddy foreshore jolting Kitty out of her daydream. A vicious clout round her ear sent her tumbling off the empty orange crate where she had perched, dabbling her bare feet in a pool of water warmed by the setting sun. Her mind had been far away from the city stench, the flapping, russet sails of the Thames barges, the hoots and throbbing engines of the steam ships. The gnawing hunger growling away in her belly had deafened her to the shouts of the lightermen and stevedores. She hadn’t heard the squelch of booted feet coming up behind her until it was too late and she landed, face down in the stinking mud, yelping with pain. ‘Bloody idle little slut.’ Grabbed by her hair, Kitty was jerked her to her feet and shaken until her teeth rattled. ‘I weren’t shirking, Sid,’ Kitty cried, spitting out a mouthful of foul tasting mud streaked with blood. Her eyes watered as he swung her by the hair but she knew it was useless to struggle. Her brother-in-law’s breath reeked of stale beer and tobacco; the smell of Billingsgate fish market clung to his clothes and hands. ‘Give it me.’ Sid shook her again like a terrier with a rat. ‘Hand it over or you’ll be sorry.’ ‘It’s for Maggie and your nippers. Me sister’ll skin us alive if I doesn’t bring something home.’ ‘And I’ll give you what for if you don’t, so give it here!’ A fist bigger than a bunch of bananas, thrust in her face, was enough to convince Kitty and she fumbled in her skirt pocket. Sid let her go and, prising her fingers apart, he tipped the coins into his palm. ‘That all?’ Kitty backed away from him. She pointed to a small pile of artefacts that had taken a whole day of back breaking work to dredge from the silt, leaving her fingers mottled and swollen like beef sausages and her feet corpse-white, wrinkled and tingling with chilblains. Grunting and swearing Sid kicked out at the stack of empty bottles, broken clay pipes and potsherds. ‘Not worth tuppence, the lot.’ Raising his arm Sid fisted his hand for a punch that never landed. Air exploded from his lungs as a bullet-shaped head butted him in the ribs, pitching him backwards into a shallow pool. ‘Run for it, Kitty.’ For a split second, Kitty stared at Jem open-mouthed with shock, but a furious bellow from Sid, flailing about on his back like an upturned beetle, brought her frozen limbs back to life. Bundling her skirts up around her thighs she pelted after Jem, her bare feet skimming over the stones. Agile as an organ grinder’s monkey, she raced up the slippery wooden steps that led to Sugar Quay. Reaching the top and glancing over her shoulder, she saw Sid, clasping his belly and gasping for breath. ‘That’ll learn him,’ Jem said, chuckling. ‘You’ll be laughing on the other side of your face if he catches up with you, Jem Scully.’ But Kitty couldn’t help grinning now that she was out of Sid’s reach, even though it made her lip bleed again. ‘Get on home. Quick!’ Jem jerked his head in the direction of Sugar Alley, giving Kitty a gentle shove. Kitty hesitated, curiosity getting the better of her. ‘What you doing here then? Why ain’t you working on the lighters?’ ‘I’ve had enough of that lark. I’m off down the docks to find a ship’s master what’ll take me on.’ ‘That’s daft. You’re too young.’ ‘Nah! I can pass for sixteen, easy.’ Her ear was aching, but a new pain shot to her heart, and Kitty bit back tears. She had known Jem all her life; they had gone to the same school and he was her best friend. How could he talk about leaving and look so cheerful? ‘You’ll get drownded like your dad.’ ‘Not me! I’m going to be a master like me old man and I’m going to make enough money to pay the doctor’s bills for our Polly. Then Ma won’t have to take in commercial travellers no more and,’ Jem stopped, turning to Kitty, his eyes shining with inspiration, ‘and you can come and live with us.’ ‘Ta, but I couldn’t leave Maggie and the nippers, not with Sid spending all his wages in the boozer.’ ‘And knocking you about when he’s had a bellyful. You got to get away from Sugar Yard.’ ‘And I will,’ Kitty said, lifting her chin. ‘I’ve told you afore, Jem. I’m going to be a lady what works in a dress shop up West.’ ‘Not like that you ain’t,’ Jem said, pointing at her bare feet. ‘Tell you what though, Kitty. With me first pay packet I’ll buy you a pair of shoes and maybe a frock too, then you can go up West with your head held high and get yourself that fancy job.’ For a happy moment, Kitty had forgotten all about Sid, but a loud roar from behind made her spin around. Cursing and swearing, Sid heaved himself onto the quay wall. Shoving Kitty behind him, Jem clenched his fists, dancing about on his toes like a boxer. ‘Pick on someone your own size, you drunken old bastard.’ ‘Stop it,’ Kitty cried, tugging at his arm. ‘He’ll murder you.’ Jem continued to prance about, shouting insults as Sid stumbled onto the cobbles. ‘Get off home, Kitty. He won’t catch me.’ One look at Sid’s purple face was enough to convince Kitty; she turned and ran. At the end of a narrow alley slit between blackened warehouse walls, Sugar Yard opened into a small square festooned with lines of washing that hung, like tattered flags, dripping a permanent mist of rain onto the cobbles. Maggie and Sid Cable rented two rooms in the four-storey building. One privy in the back yard served the whole house and sewage pooled after a rainstorm, or if there was an unusually high tide. The smell of boiling fish and cabbage hung in a damp cloud and cockroaches scuttled across the floorboards, disappearing into cracks and knotholes. Kitty was not scared of roaches, spiders or mice, but she did hate the big black rats that slunk past, glaring at her with bold, red eyes. She raced up the stairs and hurled herself against the door. Maggie was kneeling by the fire, coaxing heat from a smouldering pile of coal dust. Her eyes widened as she took in Kitty’s dishevelled condition. ‘Look at the state of you. What happened?’ ‘I fell over.’ Maggie struggled to her feet, stepping over 3 month-old baby Harry who was lying on the rag rug, kicking his bare legs in the air and gurgling. She took Kitty by the chin, staring suspiciously at her bruises. ‘You fell onto someone’s fist by the looks of things. You haven’t been cheeking Sid, have you?’ Kitty shook her head. ‘No, honest I didn’t. He’s been on the booze.’ Maggie’s face crumpled like a wizened apple. ‘He promised, he swore he’d bring his pay packet home. Is he far gone?’ ‘He took the five pence I’d found.’ ‘Dear God!’ Maggie cried, scooping Harry up in her arms, rocking him and rubbing her cheek against his downy head. ‘It’ll be the Sally Army soup kitchen for us next week. I’ll not be able to hold me head up in Sugar Yard for the shame of it.’ ‘Don’t get upset, Maggie,’ Kitty said, patting her shoulder. ‘I’ll go down to the river first thing. Pickings should be good after a high tide. It’ll be all right, you’ll see.’ ‘It’ll never be right,’ Maggie said, settling Harry in the drawer that served as his cot. ‘Once the drink gets a man there’s no hope.’ ‘I’ll get a job in the flourmill or the match factory. It pays better than the mudlark game.’ ‘And end up with ruined lungs or phossy jaw? Never, not while I’ve got a breath left in my body,’ Maggie said, snapping upright. ‘I promised our Ma on her deathbed that I’d take care of you and I’ll not go back on it for a few bob a week.’ ‘I’m fourteen now, maybe I could get a job in a dress shop up West. I’d give all me money to you afore Sid could get his maulers on it.’ Maggie cast her a pitying glance. ‘D’you think they’d give a second look to a poor little cow in raggedy clothes, without a decent pair of shoes to her name?’ ‘I’ll do it somehow, Maggie. One day I’ll make you proud of me.’ ‘That’s as maybe, but you’d best eat your bit of bread and scrape and be in bed before he comes home.’ Maggie thumped her hand on the wall as muffled giggles echoed through the thin partition. ‘And you kids better go to sleep right now or there’ll be ructions.’ Kitty tiptoed into the room that she shared with the children, slipped off her top clothes and lay down on the straw-filled mattress, avoiding the damp patch where Frankie had wet the bed. Billy and Charlie, arranged top to toe as neat as sardines in a tin, snored softly, and two-year-old Violet snuggled up to Kitty like a warm puppy. A jagged shaft of moonlight filtered through the cracked windowpane and, staring up into the night sky, Kitty imagined herself climbing that star-bright stairway to a heavenly place. Ma and Pa and her five baby brothers were already there, safe inside the pearly gates. She could barely remember what Ma and Pa looked like after all this time, but Ma had smelled nice, just the same as the violets sold on street corners up West. Pa had a husky voice and his moustache had tickled when he kissed her goodnight. Kitty closed her eyes with a sigh; up there, in the blue velvet sky, bed bugs didn’t bite, bellies were always full, and you didn’t get belted for nothing.   Next day Jem was waiting for her on the quay wall. Kitty’s heart fell as she saw his triumphant grin. ‘You done it then?’ Jem tossed his cap up in the air and caught it with a whoop of glee. ‘I done it, Kitty. And guess what? Me dad’s old friend Captain Madison has agreed to take me on as a deck apprentice, and we’re sailing on the tide for New Zealand.’ Kitty tried to smile even though a lump the size of an egg was sticking in her throat. ‘New Zealand! That’s on the other side of the world.’ ‘Don’t I know it? I’ve got a berth on one of them new refrigerated steam ships, The Mairangi, bound for Auckland.’ Jem hesitated, frowning. ‘Don’t look like that, Kitty. Ain’t you pleased for me?’ ‘What does your ma say?’ ‘She’ll be pleased as punch,’ Jem said, grabbing Kitty’s hand. ‘Come with me now and see her face when I gives her the good news.’ Betty Scully covered her face with her apron, let out a low moan and sank down on the nearest kitchen chair. ‘That’s the ticket, Ma,’ Jem said, cheerfully. ‘You’ll soon get used to the idea.’ ‘You’re not to go. D’you hear me, Jem? I won’t allow it.’ Jem tweaked the material off her face and planted a kiss on her cheek. ‘Now, now old girl, don’t take on. You always knew I’d go sooner or later.’ ‘The sea took my Herbert away from me and now you’re going too, I can’t bear it.’ ‘Now see what you’ve done!’ Kitty said, frowning. ‘I don’t call that breaking it gently.’ Jem’s grin faded. ‘Look, Ma. I’m a man now and I’ll not stand by idle while you turn our home into a lodging house. You’ve fair worked yourself to a shadow, taking in commercial gents, not to mention spending your evenings sewing dresses and shirts until your fingers are red raw and your eyes pop out.’ ‘Jem I done it all for you and Polly, just as your father would have wanted.’ ‘I know you have, but I’ve made up me mind. I’m going to sea with Captain Madison, you always said you liked him Ma, and I’ve made an allotment to you from me wages. I’ll send home more if I can.’ ‘Oh, Jem!’ Betty said, taking off her spectacles and wiping her eyes on the corner of her apron. ‘You’re a good boy. I don’t know what I’ll do without you.’ ‘I’ll send you postcards and write you letters.’ Kitty shook her head at him. He might at least try and sound sorry he was leaving. ‘I’ll get my gear and be off,’ Jem said, making for the door. ‘You’ll say goodbye to your sister first,’ Betty said, rising unsteadily to her feet. ‘You’ll tell our Polly face to face. I’m not going to be the one to break her heart.’ ‘She’ll understand.’ Exchanging anxious glances, Kitty and Betty followed Jem up the narrow staircase. A huge brass bedstead dominated the sitting room on the first floor. The walls and every available surface were covered with mementoes of Captain Scully’s voyages and a watercolour of his ship, The Belvedere, hung over the bed. It made Kitty shudder to look at a painting of the ship that had gone down in the China Seas, taking the Captain and the whole ship’s complement to a watery grave. It was hard to imagine how Mrs Scully and Polly could fall asleep beneath such a grim reminder. Polly lay on the sofa, her wasted limbs covered by a crocheted blanket. She opened her eyes as Jem sat down beside her. ‘I’ve got to go away for a bit, Poll,’ Jem said, stroking her hair back from her forehead. Polly made a guttural noise in her throat and rolled her eyes. ‘I knowed you’d understand, Poll,’ Jem said, planting a smacking kiss on her cheek. ‘I’ll be back soon and I’ll bring you lots of presents.’ ‘Poll is going to miss him ever so much,’ Betty said, clutching Kitty’s arm. ‘You will come and visit often, won’t you, ducks? You’ll help to keep her mind off things.’ Kitty swallowed hard and nodded. If she stayed much longer she was going to bawl her eyes out. ‘I’ll come when I can, but I got to go now or Maggie will be after me.’ Awkwardly, she laid her hand on Jem’s shoulder. ‘ Bye Jem,’ she said, choking on a sob. ‘Come home safe.’ Kitty didn’t stop running until she skidded on the wet cobbles of Sugar Yard. Mrs Harman, who lived on the ground floor, and the Widow Blacker, who had one room for herself and her six children in the attic, sat on upturned beer crates, smoking roll-ups and chatting. Maggie’s boys and the Blacker kids were rolling on the ground play fighting, snapping, snarling and yelping just, Kitty thought, as Mr Rudyard Kipling had described the lion cubs in The Jungle Book, a story that Miss Draper had read out loud to the class at school. Maybe it was stories of India and far off places that had given Jem the wanderlust; sighing, Kitty crept past Mrs Harman and the Widow Blacker. They were too busy gossiping to notice her and Kitty was glad of that; her heart was too full of sadness to want to speak to anyone. ‘Where’ve you been?’ demanded Maggie. ‘I got to go to the corner shop for some tea and sugar. Violet’s gone down with a bit of a fever and I need you to keep an eye on baby.’ Kitty was suddenly nervous. ‘You won’t be long?’ ‘I’ll be as long as it takes. What’s the matter with you?’ ‘Nothing,’ Kitty said, looking away. If she told Maggie that she didn’t want to be here alone when Sid got back from work it would only make her angry. ‘Good, then I’ll be off,’ Maggie said, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders. ‘If Violet wakes up, give her a drink of water.’ She went out slamming the door behind her. As soon as the door shut, Harry began to howl and Kitty picked him up, walking him up and down until he fell asleep against her shoulder. She laid him gently in his bed and was about to check on Violet when she heard the creaking protest of the bottom stair tread. The hairs on the back of her neck hackled and she held her breath, her ears pricked like a hunted animal, listening for the telltale clumping sound of booted feet and the thud of a drunken body lurching from wall to wall. Frozen to the spot, her heart racing, Kitty stood poised for flight but it was too late; the door burst open, screaming on its hinges, and Sid staggered in. ‘Where’s Maggie?’ ‘Gone to the shop,’ Kitty said, swallowing convulsively. He’d been drinking, she could smell it from here, but how much? It was hard to tell, as he never seemed completely sober these days. ‘She’ll be back in a tick.’ ‘I want me dinner.’ ‘I’ll do it.’ Kitty reached into the bread crock, taking out the stale crust of yesterday’s loaf. She could feel Sid watching her as she sliced the bread, scraping on dripping with a shaking hand. Just lately, even when he was comparatively sober, Sid had been looking at her funny and last week he’d made her sit on his knee. She’d been too scared to refuse, even when he put his hand under her skirt, running his fingers up the inside of her leg. Maggie had come into the room just then and Sid had pitched her onto the floor, saying it was just a game. Kitty knew it wasn’t a game and she had desperately wanted to tell Maggie, but somehow she couldn’t. What he’d done was wrong, she knew that, but her shame was mixed with terrible guilt. Sensing that Sid was looking at her, Kitty glanced up nervously. His gaze was fixed on her chest at the exact spot where the top button was missing off her blouse. Her hand flew to her neck, clutching the material together, as she gave him his supper. Dashing the tin plate from her hand, Sid caught her by the wrist dragging her towards him. ‘You’re a good girl really, Kitty,’ he said in a strange, thick voice. ‘And you’re growing up fast.’ Finding strength in desperation, Kitty wrenched herself free. ‘You’ll be wanting a cup of tea,’ she said, backing towards the door. ‘I’ll go and see if Mrs Harman has got a drop of hot water to make a brew.’ ‘Come here and don’t be a silly little girl,’ Sid said, baring his teeth in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘I’ll not hurt you, Kitty.’ Kitty made a dive for the door but Sid was too quick for her and, pinning her against the wooden panels, he caught her by the throat. ‘You be nice to me Kitty or you’ll be sorry.’ ‘Let go of me.’ Kitty’s voice shook and she was trembling, but she raised her chin, glaring at him. ‘Didn’t know you had it in you, girl,’ Sid said, with a feral snarl. ‘I like a bit of spirit.’ Kitty spat in his face. ‘Bitch.’ Sid slapped her cheek, snapping her head back against the door panel. Kitty opened her mouth to scream but Sid shoved his shoulder against her face, pinning her to the door as he ripped her blouse open to the waist. His work-roughened hand groped beneath her skirt, raking his fingers up her thigh, probing into the soft, secret place between her legs with savage thrusts that sent daggers of pain shooting through her body. Kicking and struggling, Kitty gasped for air. ‘Get off me.’ ‘Shut up whore, you know you want it.’ Sid struck her across the mouth. Tasting blood, Kitty thought for a moment that she was going to faint but Sid was forcing her legs apart. She could feel him fumbling with the buttons on his trousers; the bristles on his chin scraped down her neck and his tongue rasped the soft flesh of her breasts. Rage and revulsion replaced terror and, acting purely on instinct, she drew up her knee and caught him hard between his legs. Sid let out a howl of agony and doubled up on the floor, groaning. Harry was bawling but Kitty was too panic-stricken to go to him and, wrenching the door open, she fled down the stairs. Stumbling blindly out of the building, Kitty was grabbed by the scruff of the neck. Sobbing and clutching the torn shreds of her blouse in a feeble attempt to cover her naked breasts, Kitty found herself looking into Mrs Harman’s pale, coffee coloured eyes. Mrs Harman barked an order at the eldest boy to keep an eye on the younger ones and half dragged, half carried Kitty into her own living room. ‘I could see it coming,’ Mrs Harman said, slapping a wet rag over Kitty’s blackened eye. ‘I tried to warn Maggie but she wouldn’t have none of it.’ Shivering uncontrollably, Kitty couldn’t stop crying; couldn’t speak for pain and shame. Mrs Harman cocked her head on one side, listening. ‘Let’s hope that’s your sister coming. I got a few words to say to her.’ She marched to the door and wrenched it open. ‘Maggie! Come in here!’ ‘What’s up?’ Mrs Harman stood aside, jerking her head in Kitty’s direction. ‘See for yourself.’ ‘Kitty! My Gawd, who done this to you?’ Maggie cried, dropping her packages on the floor as she ran to Kitty, falling on her knees beside her. ‘Don’t be a fool, Maggie Cable,’ Mrs Harman said, closing the door with a bang. ‘You know very well who done it.’ Maggie turned on her. ‘I dunno what you mean.’ ‘Only one man went up them stairs and it weren’t the tallyman. Your Sid half killed the girl by the looks of her.’ ‘My Sid’s got a weakness for the drink but he’d never lay a finger on Kitty or the nippers.’ ‘And I suppose she done that to herself, did she?’ Maggie caught hold of Kitty by the shoulders. ‘Tell me who done this to you. It weren’t Sid. You tell her, Kitty.’ ‘He done it,’ Kitty said, and began to retch. ‘She don’t know what she’s saying,’ Maggie said, jumping to her feet. ‘You tell me the truth now, you wicked girl.’ ‘Hey, there,’ Mrs Harman said, grabbing Maggie’s arm. ‘Leave her alone. Can’t you see she’s telling the truth? Why are you standing up for him, Maggie, when you know he’s a drunken sot?’ ‘I ain’t got no choice.’ Maggie broke away from her, trembling visibly as she snatched up the brown paper packets. ‘If they put Sid in the clink me and the nippers will end up in the workhouse.’ ‘Maggie!’ Kitty struggled to her feet, but a wave of dizziness swept them from beneath her, and she slumped back on the stool, holding her head in her hands. ‘I never did nothing wrong, I swear it.’ ‘You was the youngest,’ Maggie cried, tears welling in her eyes. ‘You don’t remember, but I seen our five little brothers taken off by want and sickness afore they was out of petticoats. They’re lying in the churchyard, buried alongside our mum and dad, with not even a headstone to mark their graves. I’ll not let that happen to my babies.’ ‘It won’t,’ cried Kitty. ‘I’ll help. Don’t send me away.’ Maggie backed towards the door, clutching the packets to her chest. ‘You can’t never come home, Kitty. I done my best by you but you’re almost growed up now and you got to make your own way.’ ‘I thought better of you, Maggie,’ Mrs Harman said, hooking her arm around Kitty’s quivering shoulders. ‘What’s to become of the poor little cow if you throw her out on the street?’ ‘I c-can’t help it. I can’t risk having her under my roof not a moment longer. I’m sorry, Kitty.’ Maggie ran from the room and her footsteps echoed up the staircase, followed by the thud of the door slamming behind her. The sound echoed in Kitty’s head, every bone in her body ached, and the room was spinning around her. If Maggie had stuck a knife into her heart it couldn’t have hurt more; this couldn’t be happening, it was a nightmare and any moment she would wake up on the crowded mattress with the children snuggled up beside her. ‘Kitty, d’you hear me?’ Mrs Harman was shaking her, heaving her up off the stool and wrapping something warm and tickly around her shoulders. ‘You can’t stay here, ducks, and you can’t go home.’   Kitty opened one eye but the other remained stubbornly closed. There was someone moving about the room and she was in a strange bed. Jack-knifing into a sitting position, Kitty opened her mouth to scream as the terrifying events of the previous evening came back to punch her in the belly. ‘Hush now, you’re all right, ducks.’ Wrapped in a motherly hug, Kitty was vaguely aware of the comforting scent of sunlight soap, tea and hot buttered toast. ‘Betty?’ ‘Yes, it’s me,’ Betty said, perching on the edge of the bed. ‘You’re safe here in my house. I won’t let no one hurt you.’ ‘He’ll come and get me,’ Kitty whispered. ‘He won’t dare. You got to put it all out of your head now.’ ‘It weren’t my fault, but Maggie said it was.’ ‘Maggie knows what’s what, she just don’t want to admit it.’ Betty stood up, dropping a kiss on Kitty’s forehead. ‘Don’t cry, love, you’ll waken Polly.’ For the first time, Kitty realised that she was sharing the bed with Polly, who lay on her back snoring gently. ‘You give up your bed for me?’ Pouring water from a jug into a flower-patterned bowl on the washstand, Betty smiled. ‘You was in such a sorry state, I thought you’d sleep best in the big bed. Now you get yourself cleaned up and don’t disturb Poll, or I’ll never finish getting my commercial gentlemen off to business.’ Kitty nodded, her lips were still swollen and her jaw ached making it almost impossible to speak, but somehow she managed to slither off the bed and hobble to the washstand. ‘You’ll need something to wear,’ Betty said, bustling over to a chest and opening a drawer. ‘I had to burn those rags you came in. They was alive, God bless you.’ ‘I don’t want to be no trouble.’ ‘Lord love you, ducks. I’m only doing what any right-minded person would do.’ Betty rifled through the neatly folded garments and, taking out a faded cotton frock, she laid it on the bed. ‘This is one of Polly’s and it might be a bit short on you but it’ll have to do for the moment. D’you think you can manage to dress yourself?’ Kitty nodded too choked by tears to answer. Betty’s motherly kindness was almost overwhelming, but it couldn’t erase the memory of the nightmare events of yesterday. Betty gave her a hug. ‘Don’t take on so, Kitty.’ ‘S-sorry,’ Kitty said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. ‘I c-can’t stop c-crying and y-you’ve been so k-kind to me.’ ‘Stuff and nonsense, ducks! I love you like one of my own?’ Betty fumbled in the pocket of her apron and brought out a clean cotton hankie, handing it to Kitty. ‘Dry your eyes and you get yourself dressed while I go downstairs and make the breakfasts for my gentlemen.’   For the first few days, Kitty jumped at the slightest sound, hiding under the bed every time someone knocked at the front door in case it was Sid, come to get her. She kept well away from Betty’s commercial gentlemen; the mere sound of a male voice was enough to make her tremble from head to foot. Her cut lips made eating difficult but she had little or no appetite and Maggie’s furious, frightened face haunted her dreams. Above all, Kitty missed the children and somehow she couldn’t stop blaming herself for what had happened. Maggie had said it was her fault and she was lost in a pea-souper fog of guilt and shame. Betty had promised she would sort everything out but Kitty couldn’t see how things were ever going to come right again. She had lost her home and her family. Her sister might have a sharp tongue and a quick fist, but Maggie had brought her up like a mother, and now she must hate her. The future was a terrifying place, full of shadows and loneliness. Although Kitty’s bruises had begun to fade and her body was healing, no amount of kindness from Betty, or unspoken sympathy from Polly, could take the pain from her heart. Added to all this, her inability to contribute any money to the household made Kitty feel that she was a financial burden on Betty. Fear of Sid kept Kitty housebound. Working as a mudlark was out of the question but she tried to repay Betty by helping with the household chores. In the evenings, she struggled by candlelight, learning to sew a straight seam. Betty’s true trade was that of seamstress but, without the money to purchase a sewing machine, and with hands gnarled with rheumatics, she could barely make enough from dressmaking to feed herself and Polly, let alone pay the doctor’s bills. Taking in commercial travellers helped to keep food on the table, but with Kitty now sleeping in the attic room, Betty had only two letting rooms. Even allowing for Jem’s allotment from the New Zealand Shipping Company, money was tight. It hurt Kitty to know this and her heart ached to see Betty sitting at the kitchen table night after night, straining her tired eyes, as she attempted to balance her household accounts. Life in Tanner’s Passage was hard enough, but far removed from the grinding poverty of Sugar Yard. Kitty knew that she could not live off Betty’s charity for much longer. She would have to find work, even if it meant selling matches or bootlaces in the street.   Curled up on the window seat, Kitty snipped the thread as she finished sewing buttons on an afternoon dress for one of Betty’s clients, the wife of a prosperous silversmith who lived in Shoreditch. The sensual feel of the grey tussore beneath her fingers sent thrills of pleasure rippling through her veins. It was the most beautiful garment that Kitty had ever seen and she rubbed it against her cheek. One day she would work in a dress shop up West, even if she had to sleep beneath the counter at night and spend the day picking up pins and bits of cotton thread. Up West, bright lights twinkled like boiled sweets; everyone wore shoes or boots and ladies smelt of perfume and powder. Up West, people didn’t scratch all day from fleas and lice; rats kept to the sewers below the streets and you didn’t stumble across stiffs frozen to death in back alleys and shop doorways. Glancing at Polly, just to make sure she was still sleeping peacefully on the sofa, Kitty allowed her gaze to wander down below to the bustling crowds in Tanner’s Passage; sailors, stevedores, costermongers, beggars and street urchins jostled each other as they went about their business. It was almost dusk, too early for the drunks and street women, but high time that Betty returned home. She had gone out earlier on one of her mysterious errands and, with a sigh of relief, Kitty spotted her familiar figure scurrying home. Minutes later Betty breezed into the sitting room, tossing her bonnet and shawl onto a chair and smiling. ‘Kitty, love, you’ll never guess where I’ve been. I’ve got something to tell you.’ ‘You’ve been to see Maggie and she wants me to go home?’ Kitty held her breath. Shaking her head, Betty came to sit beside her. ‘You can’t never go back there, ducks.’ ‘She still blames me? ‘No, she don’t. Maggie would have you back in a shot, if it weren’t for him, but she admits that Sid is a bad lot and you got to be kept well away from him.’ Kitty’s heart jolted as though she’d missed a step on the stairs. ‘You’re sending me away too?’ ‘You’ve always got a home here with me, but we got to be practical. Now Maggie and me got our heads together, and we think it’s best if you’re out of the way for a bit. Don’t cry, love. Just hear me out.’   Leaving Polly in the capable hands of a neighbour from across the street who owed Betty several cups of sugar not to mention half a loaf of bread, Kitty and Betty set out early next morning. In one of Betty’s old skirts, cut down so that it almost fitted, and a white cotton blouse, taken in a few inches, Kitty knew that she was not exactly dressed in the height of fashion, but at least she was clean and tidy. A knitted shawl and gloves finished off her outfit and Betty had given her a red ribbon with which to tie back her long, curly hair. The ribbon was so beautiful, soft and shiny, that Kitty had to keep putting up her hand and touching it, just to make sure it was still there. For economy’s sake, they walked most of the way, and took a hackney carriage from Temple Bar. Kitty was horrified at such extravagance, but Betty said it was a question of keeping up appearances. She wasn’t going to arrive at her old employer’s home looking like a pauper. The cabbie drove them to Mayfair, setting them down in Dover Street. ‘We’ve got ten minutes to spare,’ Betty said, shaking out the creases of her Sunday best, black bombazine dress. ‘We’ll have to go in through the servants’ entrance at the back, but I wanted you to see what a fine house you’ll be working in.’ Kitty stared around her in awe; Mayfair was so grand that it took her breath away. She had seen several big, shiny, horseless carriages weaving in an out between the horse drawn vehicles that jostled chaotically in the busy streets around Piccadilly Circus. The people strolling along the pavements in St James’s were plump as partridges, and wore such fine clothes that she could hardly believe her eyes. The reality of being up West was better than the wildest of her dreams. In her excitement she had almost forgotten that her feet were pinched and sore in a borrowed pair of Betty’s high-buttoned boots. Her heart was fluttering inside her rib cage and her stomach felt as though it had tied itself in a knot as a flood of conflicting emotions made her quake at the knees. She felt elated to be here in the world of her dreams, but she felt out of place amongst the rich and beautiful people; she was bubbling with excitement and yet trembling with nerves. Her relief at being far away from Sugar Yard and all it stood was being eaten up by the aching sadness of leaving Maggie, who really did love her, and the children, who must be missing her just as much as she missed them. Betty stopped suddenly, pointing to a double fronted, five-storey Georgian mansion on the far side of the street. ‘That’s Sir Desmond Mableton’s house where me and your dear mother worked as housemaids, years ago. Ain’t it fine?’ Lost for words, Kitty could only stare at the imposing building. A carriage drawn by two, finely matched chestnut horses had drawn up outside. A liveried footman ran down the steps to open the door, while a man in a black tailcoat waited under the portico. ‘That’s Mr Warner, the butler,’ Betty whispered. ‘He runs the household below stairs and it was him what arranged your interview with the housekeeper, Mrs Brewster. Look, Kitty, that’s Sir Desmond himself getting out of the carriage.’ Sir Desmond, Kitty thought, looked very old and very grand in his frock coat and top hat, but he was totally eclipsed by the elegant young lady alighting from the carriage, aided by the footman. ‘She’s beautiful,’ Kitty said, breathless with admiration. ‘Is that his daughter?’ Betty’s mouth formed a tight little circle as if she had just sucked a lemon. ‘Keep your voice down or they’ll hear you and don’t stare. That’s Lady Arabella Mableton, Sir Desmond’s second wife. She’s no better than an actress.’ ‘An actress?’ ‘Worse!’ Betty said, with a disapproving sniff. ‘She performed in the music halls.’ ‘What’s wrong with that?’ ‘Most gentlemen of his station would have set her up in a nice suburban villa, but Sir Desmond went and married her.’ Betty grabbed Kitty’s hand. ‘Come on or we’ll be late.’ Kitty didn’t move; she couldn’t take her eyes off the lady with her golden hair piled high beneath a wide-brimmed hat, her ruffled, ivory silk gown nipped at a tiny waist, a long-handled parasol clutched in her gloved hand. Sir Desmond was already at the top of the steps but, as Lady Mableton went to follow him, she appeared to stumble, dropping her parasol. Sprinting forward, dodging between a gentleman on horseback and a hansom cab, Kitty crossed the street and snatched up the parasol. Lady Mableton’s startled expression was replaced by a charming smile that lit her blue eyes and dimpled her cheeks. ‘Thank you, my dear! How kind of you.’ If an angel had suddenly come down to earth and spoken to her, Kitty couldn’t have felt more tongue-tied. She bobbed a curtsey. Betty appeared at her elbow, breathless and red in the face. ‘Come away, Kitty.’ ‘Kitty, that’s a pretty name. I’m indebted to you, Kitty er…’ ‘Kitty Cox, Ma’am. I come to be a scullery maid in your house.’ Lady Mableton’s eyes clouded with concern. ‘Oh, you poor child.’ She turned to Betty, laying a gloved hand on her arm. ‘Madam, if you love your daughter, don’t make her do this. Take her home with you now, I beg you.’