Fallen Women

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  ‘My husband wouldn’t have anything to do with the likes of you!’ The woman gave an audible sniff of disgust.

  ‘You sure about that? Maybe we’ve already met him, eh girls?’ Patsy turned to her friends.

  ‘Oh, I doubt that,’ the woman said smugly, ‘my Peter is the organist at St John’s Church!’

  ‘Oh, Peter Piper! We all know him, don’t we girls?’ Patsy was quick to quip and was now in full swing. ‘We gave him that name on account of his long—’

  The jerk of her head cut off her sentence as the woman grabbed Patsy’s hair. That was it, the catfight broke out in the middle of the street in broad daylight. Screeching ensued as clumps of hair were pulled from scalps. Slaps sounded and yells wrenched the air as kicks landed on shins.

  The woman’s friend tried to intervene but was pulled away sharply by Irish Mary. ‘Best leave ’em to it if you ask me, sure enough they need to be doing it.’

  It was Len Pritchard who finally parted the women. Sending Peter’s wife packing, he dragged a still yelling Patsy back into the pub. Pouring a drink for each of the girls as they filed into the room, he shook his head. ‘Blimey, Patsy! Don’t go fighting outside my premises!’

  ‘What! You’d rather I fought inside, then?’ Patsy was fuming still, then saw Len sigh. ‘Sorry, Len, but she started it.’

  ‘So, who’s Peter Piper then?’ Len asked, hoping to ease the tension.

  ‘Ain’t got a clue, Len, never ’eard of him!’

  The girls howled with laughter as Len shook his head once more.

  Twelve

  Time passed and the Becketts had seen no further sign of their daughter. They had been reliably informed, however, that Victoria had secured herself a position as sales assistant at Williams’ Drapery. Ariadne had fretted terribly about her daughter and how she would fare out in the big wide world on her own.

  Victoria, on the other hand, had spared no thought for her parents. She had been far too busy working for a living. Her stamina had improved, and although tired at the end of the day, she no longer fell into her bed exhausted. Spending six out of seven days working, on Sundays she strolled down by the canal. It was here she could do her thinking and she soon came to realise how lonely she was. Victoria Beckett had no friends. She had no one to confide in, no one to share her joys with; she was utterly alone.

  Ambling along the towpath as the sun began to set, she pondered her life. She had grown up being a brat, but that was hardly her fault. Surely it was up to her parents to have corrected her hauteur when she was a small child. Now was the first time in a while she had thought of them. She wondered how they were; were they well? Had they missed her?

  Waving to a child on a passing barge, Victoria continued her train of thought. Where was Lord Richard Wyndham now? Had he returned to the wilds of Shropshire? Had he even thought of her since the night of the ball?

  Her thoughts led her to the girl who had spoken so rudely to her that night. Again she tried to recall the name – Audrey – Amelia? Still it eluded her.

  Just as Victoria turned off the towpath into Portway Lane, a movement caught her eye. Two people wandered along past the basin, one of whom was Richard Wyndham and the other was – that girl!

  Hurrying up Portway Lane so as not to be seen, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Lord Wyndham was out for a Sunday stroll with a prostitute on his arm!

  Victoria’s face took on a feral grin as she thought how the higher echelon of Wednesbury would take this news: Wyndham would be spurned. He would not be welcome in any of the wealthier houses – his name would be mud. His business, whatever that may be, would be ruined.

  Walking back to her room in the hotel, she considered; was she really nasty enough to spread this gossip and risk losing the chance of marriage to him? But if she was careful, no one would know it was she who had started the rumour. It would just be passed along. Could she do it? By God, yes, she could!

  *

  Victoria’s swift turn into Portway Lane was not lost on Ann as she sauntered along. What was that girl up to? She had fled the towpath like a rat up a drainpipe. Why? Was she afraid to come face to face with Ann again? Was it something to do with the incident with the trap?

  Ann mentally shrugged off the thoughts and tried to focus on Richard’s sonorous voice once more. He had asked her if he could call again and she had agreed and now they were walking out along the canal side in the hot sun.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be thinking about returning home soon?’ Ann asked, a little afraid his answer might be yes.

  ‘Miss Felton! Are you trying to get rid of me?’ Richard’s chuckle sounded as he saw the look on his companion’s face.

  ‘No!’ Ann said, a little too quickly.

  ‘I will have to consider it, yes, but for the moment I am happy to be here – with you.’ Richard said, ‘I can return home at any time.’

  Ann’s blushes made him grin and his heart warmed.

  ‘You should be thinking of your business,’ Ann added.

  ‘Oh, my business can take care of itself, Ann, I have managers to oversee it,’ Richard said.

  Ann smiled up into the sparkling dark eyes resting on her.

  ‘As you know, I have many small farms on my land and farmers rent them from me. I buy up more land and other farmers set up business there, and I purchase some of their produce. The symbiotic relationship works very well. Some farmers raise cattle for beef, others for milk. Some have sheep, others grow wheat, barley and the like. The small farms keep ducks and chickens and produce foodstuffs such as fruit and vegetables.’

  ‘Oh my – it sounds like paradise,’ Ann said dreamily as they continued their walk along the canal side.

  ‘In the summer it is. Long hot days spent in the fields end with a glass of cider as the sun sets.’

  Ann pictured the scene and smiled.

  ‘Ah, but in the winter, it can be very bleak. No crops can grow beneath winter’s white cloak and often the farmers get snowed in. They struggle to take the feed to the cattle, but they persevere. Then, in the early spring, lambing begins.’

  Ann’s eyes twinkled at the thought of spring lambs frolicking in the fields, but her smile disappeared as he went on.

  ‘Of course, the ewes don’t all lamb at the same time, so there is always enough for the market or the abattoir.’ Seeing her face fall, he continued, ‘Where do you think the lamb comes from for your broth? It’s nature, Ann, it’s business. The farmers don’t keep them as pets.’

  Ann nodded at his words. ‘Of course I understand.’ Still, she felt a twinge of sorrow at the thought of lambs going to slaughter.

  Arriving at number twelve, Queen Street once more, they drank tea and chatted the afternoon away. Maisie had joined them for a while before she left to join her friends on the street corner of Camp Street as evening descended.

  Richard looked over the wedding gown Ann had brought into the living room from upstairs.

  ‘Ann, this is magnificent!’ he gasped, his mind bringing forth a picture of Ann fitted inside it. ‘You are a very talented young woman and it’s my guess you’ll have no problem selling it.’

  Ann flushed at his words. ‘I can only hope, Richard, but as yet I’ve had no one enquire about a consultation.’

  ‘It’s early days yet, my dear, give it time. Once women see your work they will be fighting to get through the door.’ Richard tipped his head towards the front door.

  As the evening wore on and Richard took his leave of her, Ann settled with her sewing before the fire. Her mind wove pictures of the farmland they had discussed that afternoon and she wondered about his home. He probably had a massive house that stood in the centre of surrounding fields. Horses in stables, carriages in buildings of their own, servants living in – Ann realised again she and Richard came from two entirely different worlds.

  Her sewing forgotten, Ann pondered this thought. Richard Wyndham lived many miles from her and he moved in different social circles – how on earth did she ever think this bu
dding relationship could work?

  A heaviness weighed on her chest as she concluded it couldn’t. She would have to explain to Richard that their meetings would have to stop. He would not find a wife befitting his social status if they continued their liaisons. As for herself, she was just starting out on a new business venture and only time would tell whether it would prove successful.

  Returning to her sewing, Ann sighed.

  *

  Maisie Bancroft was later than usual coming home from her ‘work’ and Ann began to fret. She was about to go looking for her friend when Maisie rushed in through the front door.

  ‘Oh Maisie! I was just coming to look for you!’ Ann said as she passed over a cup of tea. ‘Are you all right? You look very pale.’

  Maisie pursed her lips and blew hard. ‘Phew! Oh Ann, something terrible has happened!’

  ‘What? What has happened?’ Ann sat next to the girl, who was still shaking.

  ‘One of the girls has been found dead!’ Maisie gasped.

  ‘What! Who?’ Ann’s hand flew to her chest.

  ‘You didn’t know her, she was new to our group. She was only young though.’ Maisie began to calm as she warmed herself by the fire.

  ‘How?’

  Maisie shook her head. ‘Len found her behind the dustbins at the Bell Inn. She’d had her throat cut!’

  ‘Oh, my God!’ Ann’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Do the police know who did it?’ she asked as she tried to gain control of her emotions.

  With another shake of her head, Maisie answered, ‘No, they think it may have been one of her clients.’

  Ann’s mouth hung open.

  ‘Trouble is, they don’t know which one. That’s why I was late ’ome, the bobbies were asking questions of us all. Poor Len is pretty shook up, as you can imagine.’

  ‘Right! That’s it! You are not going out there again!’ Ann blustered as she grabbed Maisie’s hand.

  ‘Ann, I have to make a living. It’s the only work I know!’ Maisie’s eyes lowered to her cup.

  ‘I don’t care!’ Ann snapped. ‘We will manage. I am not having you out there at night on your own!’ Seeing Maisie about to argue, Ann went on quickly, ‘Think about it. What would happen if you met the same man? You wouldn’t know it was him. Could you fight off a man armed with a knife? No, you couldn’t – therefore why put yourself in danger?’

  ‘We’ll never manage without that money, Ann,’ Maisie protested.

  ‘We will, somehow. Please, Maisie, do this for me.’ Ann squeezed her friend’s hand. ‘Look, when the man is caught by the police, if you want to go back to work, I won’t argue. But in the meantime you have to stay home and so do the girls.’

  ‘They won’t, Ann, they need the money as much as we do!’ Maisie huffed.

  ‘Right. This afternoon we will go over to the Bell and talk to them.’ Ann stood to go to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

  ‘Ann, they won’t agree. They won’t listen,’ Maisie said sadly.

  ‘They will, believe me, Maisie – they will!’ With that, Ann disappeared through the door into the kitchen.

  Early afternoon saw the two women walk into the Bell.

  ‘Well, well – look who’s ’ere!’ Len Pritchard said as Ann and Maisie entered the snug.

  Glancing around her, Ann saw all the girls were there. After the pleasantries were dispensed with and Gladys had joined them, Ann addressed the small gathering.

  ‘Maisie told me about the unfortunate death of one of your own – our own,’ she corrected herself, ‘and I am here to tell you – you cannot go to work while that man is still at large!’ Ann’s arm swept out towards the direction of the street.

  Everyone began to speak at once, their heads shaking. Ann dragged out a stool and hitching up her skirts she climbed up onto it. Standing higher, she could see every face. The room fell silent and Ann spoke again.

  ‘Ladies, it’s dangerous out there! Any one of you could meet up with the man who murdered your friend and you could finish up as she did. Is that what you want? Do you want to end your days behind the dustbins with your throat slashed?’ Ann paused, allowing her words to sink in before she resumed. ‘I know the money is good, girls, but how will that money benefit you if you are no longer alive to spend it?’ Ann could see the women weighing up their options; they were scared, but they had to earn enough to live.

  The murmurings began again before Floss said, ‘So how are we supposed to make a living if not out there?’

  Ann waited again for silence to descend. ‘When the man is caught you can go back to your work if you choose to, but until that time you have to stay off the streets! Now, Gladys is still looking for a helper in the kitchen and I’m sure Len can take on another to help with the bar…’

  ‘Well now, I ain’t sure I can afford that!’ Len cut in.

  ‘Cut down on drinking your profits, Len, and you could!’ Ann snapped.

  Gladys applauded her words as Len huffed his disapproval.

  ‘As for the rest of you – I need some help with my business. I need a model and anyone who can sew. I need to sell my completed gowns first and then I can pay a little something. So, what do you say?’

  ‘We know it’s dangerous out there at the moment to be sure, Annie, but we have to eat and pay our rent,’ Mary argued.

  ‘I understand that, but think of that poor girl found the way she was,’ Ann pushed her point home.

  ‘Annie, I know you’re trying to help, and God knows we appreciate it, don’t we, girls?’ Seeing the nods of agreement, Floss ploughed on. ‘But you have to realise you can’t pay a wage as yet. We’d all love to help with your business, but we can’t live on fresh air. No offence, Gladys, but I couldn’t work here with you two battling all the time,’ Floss’s well-spoken voice left them all quiet but nodding in agreement.

  Ann stepped down from the stool, seeing more nods. Sitting once more, she felt she was beaten and the worry for her friends overwhelmed her.

  The mutterings began again, but by late afternoon and after much more arguing, all had agreed to Ann’s plan for the time being. Fear for their lives had them promise to stay off the streets until it was deemed safe enough to return to their age old profession – or they ran out of money completely – whichever came first.

  Ann heaved a sigh of relief as she and Maisie left the Bell.

  Walking back to Queen Street, Maisie asked, ‘How are we going to manage this?’

  ‘I have an idea, I just hope it works,’ Ann raised her eyebrows. ‘Firstly, however, I will have to visit Mr Williams at the drapery, then we’ll see.’

  Ann left Maisie at the house and continued on towards the shop.

  *

  Victoria Beckett gasped in disbelief as she stared at the young woman who now stood before her.

  ‘I wish to see Mr Williams,’ Ann said. The minute she had entered the premises she had caught her breath on recognising the girl standing behind the counter. It was the very same girl she thought had tried to run her over with her horse and trap. Keeping her emotions under control, Ann waited.

  ‘May… may I ask your name?’ Victoria stuttered.

  ‘Ann Felton.’

  So, that was her name! The girl who had spoken so rudely to her outside the theatre that night.

  ‘I’m in a bit of a hurry, so if you wouldn’t mind…’ Ann pushed, feeling impatient at the girl’s dallying.

  Victoria disappeared into the back room and a moment later returned with the shop owner.

  ‘Miss Felton! So nice to see you,’ Mr Williams gushed. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘I would like a moment of your time, Mr Williams, if that’s possible and – in private.’ Ann cast her eyes at the sales girl who was listening in to her conversation.

  ‘Of course, please come through to the living room. Victoria, watch the shop. I’m sure you won’t miss anything with those little beady eyes and great big ears of yours if anyone comes in with gossip.’

  Squeezing her eyes shut, Vi
ctoria shoved her lower jaw forward in a sulk and sighed audibly.

  Ann contained a smile and followed the owner to the back. Sitting with Mr Williams, she explained her plan and the reason behind it.

  ‘If I can make this work, maybe the girls will give up their work altogether. I may be able to make sure they stay in good, gainful employment.’

  Mr Williams nodded and said, ‘You bring your gowns then and I’ll make space in the shop window. We’ll get those dresses sold for you, my dear, don’t you worry about that.’

  ‘Oh, thank you, Mr Williams! Thank you so much!’ Ann clasped her hands together.

  ‘Now then, when they sell, what do you have to replace them?’ Williams was excited at the prospect.

  Ann’s face fell. Shaking her head, she said quietly, ‘Nothing as yet.’

  Waving his hands around, Williams blustered, ‘Oh, that’s not a problem. There are scores of bolts out there in the shop, take your pick.’

  Ann gasped. ‘Mr Williams, I can’t pay for it yet!’

  ‘No, but you will be able to when you sell your first gowns! Look, I can see you haven’t thought this through properly, so let me make a suggestion. I will supply the materials; you and the girls supply the gowns. You pay me out of the sales money and you make a profit. What you do with that profit is up to you.’ Williams held out his hands, denoting the end of his little speech.

  ‘What about you? What do you get out of this?’ Ann asked.

  ‘Satisfaction – to begin with,’ he whispered, ‘then when your business is up and running, you could lease my front window at a nominal fee!’

  Ann laughed and reached out to shake the man’s hand. ‘You are a diamond, Mr Williams!’

  Returning to the shop area, Ann nodded to the scowling sales girl as she heard the owner issue instructions.

  ‘Victoria, I want everything out of that window. We are to have a new display!’

  Ann smiled to herself as she left the shop. She had struck a deal with the drapery owner and his assistant was none too pleased about it.

  Hurrying home, Ann knew she had to get cracking on making more gowns. The window display would need changing every few weeks to keep people interested and hopefully bring in some much needed business.