Fallen Women

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  Following her employer into the shop area, she waited and listened.

  The men shook hands and Richard spoke first. ‘I wonder if I may speak with you privately, Mr Williams, on a matter of some importance.’

  ‘Yes, of course, please come this way.’

  Victoria inwardly fumed. Leaving her to mind the shop, the men retired to the back room. What was the important matter Wyndham spoke of? How could she find out?

  On tiptoes, she crept to the door separating the two rooms. Normally left open, it was now closed. About to place her ear against it, the door suddenly opened.

  ‘Ah, Victoria, would you make tea for our visitor please?’ Mr Williams then closed the door again without waiting for an answer.

  Victoria banged around in the tiny kitchen, her anger mounting at once again being treated as a skivvy. With a laden tray, she carried it to the door, which she touched with her booted foot.

  Mr Williams’ face appeared and, taking the tray from her without a word, he nudged the door shut with his elbow.

  As the conversation began, Mr Williams placed a finger to his lips, then cupped a hand to his ear.

  Wyndham nodded his understanding of walls having ears.

  Williams moved again to the door and flung it open. ‘You may leave early today, Victoria. Please turn the sign and drop the catch on the door on your way out.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Victoria mumbled, clearly disgruntled at not being privy to the meeting.

  Watching her go, Mr Williams then returned to the company of Lord Wyndham. ‘I apologise for that little interruption, but Miss Beckett has ears like an elephant!’ Laughing at his own quip, Williams sat down. ‘Now what is it I can help you with, Lord Wyndham?’

  ‘Richard, please.’

  Mr Williams nodded as he passed across the tea he had just poured.

  ‘Firstly, do you know why Miss Felton’s gowns do not appear to be selling?’

  Mr Williams shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not, although I have wondered myself. I don’t understand it because they are of the highest quality and the designs are beautiful.’

  ‘I agree, so how can we find out what the problem is?’ Richard placed his cup and saucer on the table.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Mr Williams replied.

  ‘Then I shall move on to the main reason for my visit. I understand your shop has been in your family for many generations,’ Richard said, watching the little man sat opposite him.

  ‘Yes indeed.’

  ‘Admirable, if I may say. However, I wondered if you were willing to sell it to me.’ Richard saw the surprise leap to the other man’s face.

  ‘Lord Wyn— Richard, I had not thought to sell up, I have to admit.’

  ‘I have five hundred pounds in the bank, which is waiting to be used, Mr Williams, and I would dearly love to have a shop. I’m in farming, you see, in Shropshire, and it affords me many luxuries, to say nothing of my family money.’ Picking imaginary lint from his immaculate trousers, Richard waited.

  ‘Yes well…’ Mr Williams had been taken unawares at the offer from this man to buy his shop. ‘I’m not sure I’m ready to retire as yet.’

  ‘Come now, Mr Williams. After working hard all of your life do you not think it time to relax and enjoy the wealth you have accumulated? You are still in good health and young enough to travel. You could see the world, Mr Williams, go to all the places you’ve only ever dreamed of. Maybe you will meet the lady who will become your wife.’ Richard was doing his best to push the negotiations in his favour.

  ‘I don’t know about that, Richard, I’m no youngster after all is said and done,’ Mr Williams gave a small embarrassed laugh.

  ‘Stuff and nonsense, you are a fine figure of a man; any woman would consider herself lucky to have you.’ Richard saw the tiny chink appear in the other man’s armour and pushed harder. ‘Just think, senoritas in Spain – dark skinned and amorous. Or maybe you would prefer a homely Greek lady to love and take care of you.’

  ‘Richard, I…’ Mr Williams blew through his teeth and wiped a finger around his starched collar.

  ‘Mr Williams, I will be returning to the Shires very soon, so please consider my offer of five hundred pounds and let me have your answer as quickly as possible.’ Richard held out his hand and Mr Williams grasped it.

  ‘I will, sir, I will consider it very carefully.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Williams. Now I will bid you good day.’

  Williams saw his visitor out and, returning to his living room, he dropped into a chair, his mind filled with pictures of exotic foreign women with swarthy complexions.

  Sixteen

  The urge was getting strong; it was time to kill again. Dressed once more in black, the figure moved to the safe hiding place behind the timber yard.

  The evening wore on and the darkness deepened. Watching the man who came to light the gas lamp, a smile melted into the shadows. Not too much longer now and those whores will be out to ply their disgusting trade!

  Feelings began to stir and the excitement grew. Another prostitute would meet her maker this night. One by one they were being eliminated until eventually the streets would be free of them. Then everyone could live in peace. Women would not wonder if their husbands were carousing with these despicable women. Men would once more enjoy their wives in the natural way, and children would ask no more questions about the ‘painted ladies’.

  The smile turned to a grin and tension mounted like a coiling spring.

  By midnight, the excitement had turned to rage. There was no one standing beneath the street light on the corner of Camp Street. Clearly they were too afraid to venture out.

  Anger was bubbling up and ready to explode when a boot sounded on the cobbles. Then there in the yellow glow of the lamp stood one lonely young woman. She was tapping her foot as she glanced up and down the street.

  After half an hour and seeing not another living soul, the girl hitched up her long skirt and walked away from the light.

  Stealthily following at a short distance, the excitement rose again. What a stroke of luck!

  The young woman occasionally glanced behind her as she traversed the dark streets. Seeing no one, she hurried on. Turning into Victoria Street, the girl was suddenly lifted off her feet and carried swiftly into a pitch black alley. The hand clamped over her mouth prevented her screaming out for help.

  The knife slid cleanly across the smooth skin of her throat and her eyes bulged in disbelief. As she sank to the ground slowly, she saw a shadow bend forward then clean the knife on her skirt.

  ‘Why?’ Only able to mouth the word, the girl’s sad eyes closed for the last time as she bled out in the filthy alley.

  ‘Because I can,’ came the quiet answer before black robes swished in a turn and fled the scene.

  *

  The following morning Inspector Jack Towers screeched across his office on being told another body had been found in a back alley.

  ‘Who the bloody ’ell does this bloke think he is – Jack the Ripper!’

  The young constable quaked in his shoes and shook his head. ‘Doubt it, sir, it’s been thirteen years since the Ripper struck.’

  ‘All right lad, let’s go and ’ave a look.’

  The constable fled the room and Jack Towers ran his hands through his prematurely greying hair. Yet another girl murdered on his patch – if he didn’t apprehend this bugger soon, he’d have Scotland Yard breathing down his neck. Pushing to his feet wearily, he strode from his office.

  At the scene of the grisly crime, Towers asked, ‘Who is she?’

  Heads shook. None of the policemen knew her.

  ‘Well bloody find out! Somebody must know ’er. Check the pubs, ask the prosies who stand the corner of Camp Street. I want to know who this girl is – was!’

  Policemen scattered in all directions as the body was taken away by the coroner’s wagon.

  Jack Towers rubbed his eyes with his fingertips.

  Making his way back to the station near St
John’s church, his mind was whirling with questions. Who was the perpetrator of these awful murders? Why was he doing it? Was it a man? Could it be a woman? What did they stand to gain? Was it a hatred of women – or just of street-walkers? How was it that no one had seen him or her, or heard anything?

  With aching head, Towers returned to his office and slumped down in his chair. Screwing up his eyes, he thought again. Had the woman had a chance to scream? If so, somebody must have heard her.

  With a finger and thumb in his mouth, he whistled loudly. To the constable rushing in, he said, ‘Door to door enquiries all around the area where the body was found.’

  The constable nodded and rushed out to pass on the inspector’s instructions. Hopefully by the end of the day they should at least know who the poor, unfortunate girl was.

  *

  Reading the early morning edition of the local newspaper, the killer chuckled. They were quick off the mark to get the article in print this morning.

  The dead girl had been found and the police were combing the area looking for clues – but they would find none. I’m too clever for you! I left no evidence and I made sure I was not seen! I have you coppers running round in circles!

  With another chuckle, a leisurely breakfast was consumed.

  *

  ‘How do the bloody papers get ’old of all this so fast?’ Jack Towers groaned as he threw the newspaper onto his desk.

  Walking to the window of his second floor office, he stared out, his hands shoved into his trouser pockets. Below him the street was busy. Carters trundled along the cobblestone road, women bustled along to do their shopping. The rag-and-bone man blew a sharp note on his trumpet and shouted his familiar call of ‘any old rags?’ Gentlemen kept their horses to a steady walk and carriages rumbled along, transporting people from one place to another.

  Jack shook his head. How was it with so many people living and working in this town, no one saw the villain violently take a young woman’s life?

  Sitting again at his desk, he sent out another whistle. ‘Check if the night-soil men were working that area last night.’

  The constable nodded and went about his business.

  Towers sighed loudly; he was fresh out of ideas. It was a waiting game now. Maybe their enquiries would yield fruit. It was to be hoped so, because the inspector of police felt exasperated.

  ‘This bugger is playing with us,’ he mumbled. Nodding slowly, he whispered, ‘All right then. In the words of Sherlock Holmes – the game is afoot!’

  Seventeen

  Mary Reed fell into Maisie’s front room in floods of tears and it was quite a while before anyone could get any sense out of her.

  ‘Floss has been done in!’ she wailed, pushing her titian hair out of her face.

  ‘What!’ Ann couldn’t believe her ears. ‘Mary, what are you saying?’

  Taking a deep breath, Mary told what she knew. ‘Floss said last night we were nearly out of food and she was going out to earn some money. I tried to stop her, for sure, but she’d have none of it. Oh Jaysus, I should have tried harder to keep her home because I’ve just had to identify her down at the morgue!’

  Shocked faces looked at each other before Ann asked, ‘How did you know to go there?’

  ‘Floss never come home and I went down to the Bell and asked Len if he’d seen her. He said no, but the coppers was lookin’ to talk to us ’cos there’d been another murder.’

  ‘Christ Almighty!’ Maisie gasped.

  ‘Sure, I went to the cop shop and then I was taken to the morgue and I…’ Mary burst into tears once more.

  Ann felt her own tears sting and heard the sobs of the others as they tried to comfort Mary.

  ‘Oh, Annie,’ she managed at last, ‘she’d had her throat slashed, so she had!’

  ‘Mary, I’m so very sorry,’ Ann said with a shiver as an image formed in her mind of poor Floss.

  ‘I should have gone with her or locked her in her room or— I should have done something more to stop her going out!’ Mary’s wails grew louder.

  ‘Stop it, Mary!’ Ann’s voice was sharp, bringing all eyes to her. ‘If Floss was determined, then nothing you could have done or said would have prevented her going out. I loved her as much as you did, but blaming yourself is not helping. The person who took her from us is to blame and none other.’ Ann had realised the only way to snap Mary out of her misery was to be sharp with her.

  Heads nodded in agreement, but then Ann’s sternness crumbled and she too burst into tears.

  ‘I know you’re right, Annie, but I’ll miss her something dreadful, so I will!’ Mary sobbed after a short while.

  ‘As will we all,’ Ann whispered, wiping away her tears.

  ‘Mary, how you gonna afford your rent now?’ Eve asked.

  ‘I can’t, not on my own. I’ll be thrown out for sure.’ Mary bent her head and cried into the corner of her shawl.

  Maisie produced the panacea for all ills – a cup of strong, sweet tea. Everyone sat around the table sipping their drinks, only the occasional sob breaking the awful silence.

  After a little while, Ann set them all to their work, sewing a pale blue bridesmaid’s dress, before she grabbed her shawl.

  ‘I have to go out – I won’t be long.’ Before anyone could protest she was gone.

  Rushing through the streets without a care for passers-by staring at her, she arrived at her destination out of breath.

  ‘Annie!’ Len said, surprised to see her.

  ‘I need to talk to you and Gladys,’ she said, finally catching her breath.

  Going to the kitchen, Len on her heels, Ann explained that Floss was the girl found in the alley.

  ‘Bloody ’ell!’ Gladys said, dropping into a chair.

  ‘So, I’m here to ask a favour. Floss and Mary shared a house and now Mary won’t be in a position to pay her rent.’ Ann looked from husband to wife.

  ‘What’s the favour, Annie?’ Len asked.

  ‘Can either of you give her a job and – can she have my old room?’ Ann held her breath, willing the couple to agree to her proposal.

  ‘I ain’t sure we can afford it, gel,’ Len said sheepishly.

  ‘We bloody can! Tell ’er Annie, she can come and work in the kitchen wi’ me, and yes ’er can ’ave yer old room. God knows I need the ’elp.’

  Ann threw her arms around Gladys. ‘Thank you so much. I know Mary will be grateful too.’

  ‘Tell ’er I need ’er tomorrer morning.’

  ‘I will and thank you again.’

  Ann left them feeling better than she had a few hours earlier. When she reached home and told the girls the news, there was consternation on Mary’s face.

  ‘I’m grateful, Annie, honest to God I am, but working with that pair – I don’t know that I can. I’ll probably swing for one or the other soon enough.’

  ‘Mary, they’re giving you a job and a room! You’ll be safe there; but beware of Len, who will no doubt be trying it on with you, which will not please Gladys,’ Ann said with a smile.

  ‘Fer sure, for if he does I’ll flatten him! All right, Annie, I’ll give it a go and see how we get on.’ Mary wrapped Ann in her arms before her tears came again.

  All settled quietly and continued to sew. Everyone’s thoughts were centred on Floss, their friend, and the terrible fate that had befallen her. Every now and then, one of them would burst into tears and the others would comfort her as best they could.

  The next morning, bright and early, Mary, with her few possessions, made her way to the Bell to begin work, and Ann carried the pretty blue bridesmaid’s dress to Williams’. As she walked along Union Street, she thought about how to rearrange the window display. What would Floss have done? Dear, gentle Floss. As the girl’s image came into her mind, Ann stifled back a tear.

  Standing outside and gazing through the window, Ann immediately knew how to go about her task. Walking into the shop, she felt rather than saw Victoria Beckett’s eyes on her.

  ‘I’ve com
e to change my display,’ Ann said, as she marched up to the counter.

  Glancing quickly around, ensuring she wouldn’t be overheard, Victoria replied curtly, ‘It won’t make any difference, your rags still won’t sell!’

  Ann was not at all surprised at the girl’s outburst, and now with all that had happened she didn’t need this attitude from the shop girl!

  ‘We shall see!’ Ann flung over her shoulder as she climbed into the small space the window afforded.

  With her mind on Floss and how they would pay for the girl’s funeral when the coroner released her body, Ann worked quietly. Slipping the wedding gown off one dummy, she replaced it with the blue dress, then situating it slightly behind the other which still held a lacy wedding outfit, she nodded her approval. It looked like the mannequins were walking down the aisle – the only thing missing was the groom. Satisfied, Ann wrapped the other gown in the same clean sheet bag she had used for the blue dress. Climbing from the window, she nodded to the scowling Victoria before leaving the shop. Looking at her display from the outside, Ann smiled. It was exactly what Floss would have suggested. Maybe now her garments would begin to sell. Ann walked home with hope in her heart.

  Mr Williams tottered through with a cup of tea for Victoria. ‘I thought I heard the bell,’ he said.

  ‘Ann Felton changed the display, although in my opinion…’ her words trailed off as Mr Williams cast her a withering glance.

  The bell tinkled again and in walked Mrs Unwin.

  Mr Williams smiled inwardly as he recalled the gossip of this woman brawling in the street with one of Ann’s friends.

  ‘Morning, Mrs Unwin, yer bin in any fights lately?’

  Victoria rolled her eyes at how easily her employer introduced a local accent where normally there was none.

  ‘I’ll thank you to mind yer own business, Mr Williams,’ the woman replied.

  ‘Ain’t no call to be rude, that’s my job. Now, what have you come in to mither me about?’

  ‘I need something to remove a bloodstain,’ Mrs Unwin said, glancing at the shop girl who was standing idle.