Fallen Women

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  ‘This,’ he said, waving a document in the air, ‘is the deed to my new shop. I have just bought Mr Williams’ drapery!’

  Gasps sounded as Eve and Ella exchanged a look, as did Maisie and Ann.

  ‘Well, damn my eyes!’ Patsy said loudly. ‘Now you’ve got it, what you gonna do with it?’

  ‘Firstly, I want you ladies to come and take a look and advise me. Do I keep it as a drapery or turn it into something else?’

  ‘I can’t come, I’ve far too much to do here,’ Ann sniffed. Just as things had taken a turn for the better, Richard had bought the drapery and was thinking about changing it to sell other things. She would be back to square one, trying to sell her dresses from Maisie’s house once more. It seemed she was destined not to become a modiste after all.

  Richard’s voice broke through her thoughts. ‘Ann, please come, I need your expertise on what to keep and what is of no use – what to do with the place! Mr Williams has already left and I need help!’

  ‘I still owe Mr Williams for the renting of the window and the materials he said I should take, therefore that means I now owe it to you.’

  ‘Ann, the money I paid Mr Williams has more than covered that, so please don’t worry about it, just say you will come!’

  Ann’s heart softened at the excited little boy expression on Richard’s face. She smiled at the man crouched before her and realised he was still holding her hand.

  ‘All right, but I mustn’t be long.’

  Shawls donned, Richard escorted the five excited women through the streets to the shop.

  Victoria Beckett’s scowl met them at the door. ‘Mr Williams isn’t here,’ she said pompously.

  ‘I’m aware of that,’ Richard answered in the same vein. ‘I’m here to tell you that this is now my shop.’

  ‘Your shop! I don’t understand…’ Victoria’s mouth widened to an ‘O’ as the penny dropped. Lord Wyndham had bought Mr Williams out! So that was the reason for the private meetings.

  Richard confirmed her thoughts by saying, ‘I have bought the drapery and these ladies have accompanied me today to give their ideas for any changes that have to be made.’

  ‘The shop doesn’t need changing, as far as I can see,’ Victoria said with a haughty sniff.

  ‘I cannot recall asking for your opinion, Miss Beckett,’ Richard said, raising an eyebrow.

  Titters at Victoria’s discomfort sounded behind him and Richard turned to address the waiting women.

  ‘Please go through and have a good look around, I’ll be with you in just one moment.’

  Victoria watched them file through into the back room and then returned her eyes to Wyndham.

  ‘Now, Miss Beckett, I am reliably informed you have made no effort to encourage clients asking about Miss Felton’s gowns.’

  ‘That’s a lie! Whoever told you that is lying through their back teeth!’ Victoria steadfastly believed the best form of defence was attack.

  ‘I see. Then can you explain why these wedding dresses are not selling?’ Richard asked, pointing to the window display.

  Victoria’s anger began to rise – he was clearly blaming her, and although he was correct to do so, she was determined to fight her corner.

  ‘Maybe people do not like them. It could be the workmanship is not good enough or the designs are not to their taste!’

  ‘Or maybe you are telling customers the gowns would be of no use to them!’ Richard countermanded.

  Ann and the girls heard the raised voices and had come to stand by the open door.

  With a sinking feeling in her chest, Victoria made one last-ditch attempt to deny the words thrown at her. ‘Lord Wyndham, I would never do such a thing! I don’t understand how you’ve come by this information, but I assure you it is incorrect!’

  ‘Well, understand this, Miss Beckett. You are, as of this moment, no longer in employment here. Kindly get your things and leave my premises.’ Richard nodded towards the door.

  ‘But…’ Victoria stammered.

  ‘NOW, Miss Beckett, if you please,’ Richard said, pointing to the front door.

  Snatching up her bag from behind the counter, Victoria snarled at the man who had just sacked her before flouncing out of the shop. ‘You have not heard the last of this, Lord Wyndham!’

  ‘Bloody ’ell!’ Patsy exclaimed as the women stood by the door having overheard the whole exchange.

  Ann was shocked. Not only had Victoria discouraged people from buying her gowns and been sacked for it, but Richard Wyndham was a Lord! Why had he not told her? Composing herself, she asked, ‘Did she really do that, Richard? Was she telling people my – our – work was no good?’ Ann’s eyes brimmed with tears as he moved towards her.

  ‘I’m afraid so, Ann. I was informed by the ladies who came to visit you, but I could do nothing about it until the shop belonged to me.’ Richard watched the emotions play on her beautiful face as Ann slowly shook her head.

  ‘Why? What made her do it?’ she asked.

  ‘Spite. Jealousy – could be anything,’ Patsy answered.

  Ann’s eyes met Richard’s dark ones, watching her intently, waiting for her reaction.

  ‘Richard – now you have a shop with no staff!’ Ann was aghast.

  ‘Come through, everyone, have a look and tell me your ideas for the place,’ he said, laughing off Ann’s concerns.

  All were amazed at the size of the building, not having realised how far back it stretched. Upstairs were four good sized rooms used for storage, and there were also four bedrooms. Downstairs was a living room, kitchen and scullery, besides other unused rooms. The privy was out the back in a brick building of its own.

  The shop bell tinkled and each looked at the other, unsure of what to do.

  ‘I’ll see to it,’ Eve said.

  A moment later she was back. ‘Another satisfied customer.’

  Once more in the shop area, Richard spoke up. ‘This is my thinking – I need shop assistants if any of you are at liberty to help me out.’ Ella and Eve were the first to volunteer their services. ‘Thank you, ladies, you are now in gainful employment. I will need a quick look at the books before I can give you an idea of a fair wage – but this may help in the meantime.’ Turning the handle on the till, Richard took out two pounds handing it to the delighted women.

  A round of applause had him blush and smile.

  Ann turned away, covering the hurt in her eyes. Did Richard not realise she was doing her best to ensure all the women were in gainful employment? His words had stung and she tried to believe he had spoken unthinkingly.

  ‘Patsy and Maisie, I have need of a buyer and a cleaner if either of you are interested.’

  Ann heard the words and she felt the stab to her heart. In the last weeks she had endeavoured to help the girls out and keep them off the streets, now Richard was finding them all work in one single day. She was glad in one respect – at least they would be earning and not tempted to return to the corner of Camp Street – but on the other hand she felt a failure. All she had managed to do was put the girls through the misery of having no money and little food.

  ‘I’m ’appy enough to clean,’ Patsy said and saw Richard nod.

  ‘I don’t know nuthin’ about buyin’,’ Maisie said sadly.

  ‘Maybe Ann could help out there,’ Richard said. In his excitement, he had not noticed the sadness creep over her face yet again.

  Ann nodded.

  ‘Ar, all right then, thanks yer kindly, Mr Wyndham,’ Maisie grinned.

  ‘First rule, you all call me Richard!’ he said, giving Maisie and Patsy the same amount he had given the Hall sisters.

  Titters sounded and Ann took the opportunity to have a good look around the shop. ‘There’s so much could be done to improve this place,’ she whispered.

  Richard watched as Ann moved from one place to another, inspecting the shelves and cupboards. He guessed she was envisioning how the shop could look with a little forethought and a lot of hard work. His breath caught
in his throat as the light glanced off her hair, which was almost as black as coal. His very soul was on fire for want of her.

  ‘What do you say then, ladies – do we keep this place as a drapery?’ he asked.

  Everyone agreed it could be profitable to do so. Almost every woman visited here at some time or another as it was the only shop of its kind in the town. Relief flooded through Ann that the shop would remain a drapery.

  ‘Good, then it’s settled. Now my business is concluded, I need to return home, so I will leave this place in your capable hands.’

  Passing the spare keys which Mr Williams had left for him by the till to Ella, he saw the look cross Ann’s face. Was it sadness? Was she unhappy he was leaving? If so, would that mean she’d be glad to see him when he returned to check on his new venture into the retail business? He prayed that would be the case.

  Twenty

  Victoria Beckett had stamped from the shop in an almighty fury. Making her way back to her small room in the hotel, she had no regard for the people she passed. Marching through the market, she pushed herself between women standing gossiping, ignoring their comments about rudeness.

  Once back in her room she sat on her bed and looked around her, trying to take stock of her situation. So, Richard Wyndham had bought out Mr Williams. The question was – why? Clearly he was wealthy and therefore not in desperate need of further funds. What did he intend to do with the shop? Would he level it and build a house maybe? Was he thinking to keep it as a drapery and run it himself? No, Wyndham had land and business in Shropshire which would need his attention before too long.

  A sudden thought brought her up sharply. Had he bought that shop for Ann Felton? Victoria’s temper flared red hot again. Whatever happened around her, Miss Felton appeared to be at the centre of it! Now, because of that girl, Victoria found herself out of work. Yes, it was Wyndham who had sacked her – but she was convinced the Felton girl was behind it.

  Breathing heavily, Victoria knew she was back to square one, having very little money and no job. She could, of course, try going home but was certain her father would have none of it. Pacing the tiny room, she pictured the young woman; the one who was constantly interfering in her life. Angrier than she had ever been in her life, she looked around for something to throw. The Bible on the bedside table was all she could see and, snatching it up, she hurled it against the wall.

  Dropping onto the bed, Victoria began to cry. Her genuine tears came from frustration and anguish about her circumstances and how the fates conspired against her. For the first time since being a small child, Victoria cried herself to sleep.

  *

  Back in Maisie’s small living room, Ann thought on all that had happened. Richard had bought the shop and employed the girls. It transpired he was a lord; something he had said nothing to her about. Why had she not questioned that? She supposed there’d never been the right time. Then a sadness crept over her as she recalled his words, I need to return home… Would this be the last she saw of him? Could he run the drapery from so far away from Wednesbury?

  The image of his handsome face swam before her. The dark eyes which could probe the very soul of a person. Black hair which constantly flopped forward; rich and thick, it shone in the light of the sun. She heard again the deep timbre of his voice and her heart skipped a beat. Ann couldn’t bear the thought that she might never see him again and tears stung the back of her eyes. The only comfort she had was to make herself believe he would have to return to see to his new business venture.

  When she had left him at the shop, Ann felt she should have asked him when he would be back. Despite the forwardness of the question, she wished she’d asked it nevertheless. Now it was too late – Lord Richard Wyndham had gone home!

  Trying to snap herself out of the sombre mood which had overtaken her, Ann picked up her sewing once more. However, she couldn’t concentrate, for the next image she saw was the stricken face of Victoria Beckett. The girl had been given the sack for deviously doing Ann out of any sales that she might otherwise have acquired.

  Ann sighed. Did the girl deserve to be thrown out of her job because of what she’d done? Yes, Ann thought so, especially when she considered her friends had been seriously thinking of earning a copper or two on the streets again. The killer was still on the loose out there. If Ann had been selling her garments, Floss wouldn’t have been in the position of putting herself in danger. That danger had seen her lose her life!

  She thought back to Victoria Beckett’s spite. But why? What did that girl have against Ann? Surely it couldn’t be because of that night outside the Theatre Royal when she’d suggested the girl needed a good spanking from her father? There could be no other reason, Ann surmised. Clearly the girl was harbouring a grudge – one strong enough to see Ann dead or badly injured.

  A small shiver ran down her spine as she recalled again how Victoria had deliberately aimed her pony and trap at her as she had walked down the street. No doubt Ann would carry the blame for the girl losing her employment now too. It was time to be extra vigilant, for not only was there a murderer on the prowl, but Victoria Beckett undoubtedly would be searching for an opportunity to exact her revenge.

  *

  That same evening saw Peter Unwin race through his organ practice and set off for Camp Street. His passion and excitement had set his blood on fire and he increased his pace, eager to see who was ready to earn a shilling.

  The corner was quiet as he nonchalantly strolled down the street, his hands in his trouser pockets. As he passed the timber yard, he heard low voices. Stopping, he glanced around and it was then someone spoke to him.

  ‘Evening, sir, lost are we?’

  Turning, Unwin saw the policeman who had asked the question.

  ‘Erm no, officer, I’m on my way home from organ practice at St John’s Church,’ Peter said.

  ‘I should be moving along then if I were you.’ The policeman tipped his head.

  ‘Yes. Goodnight, officer.’ Peter smiled in the dim pool of light given out by the street gas lamp.

  Walking home, Unwin was disappointed that he had been unable to vent his frustration. That policeman had spoiled his fun, and who knew how much longer he would have to wait to enjoy a lady of the dark hours. He would have to try again the following night; at least tonight his wife would be pleased to see him home early.

  A thought struck him as he ambled along the dimly lit streets. What was that copper doing hanging around the timber yard? Who was he speaking to in a quiet whisper? A colleague? One of the girls who stood the corner? Whoever it was, it had ruined his evening and Peter scowled. Reaching his front door, he replaced his frown with a false smile.

  ‘Hello, dear,’ he called as he stepped inside.

  ‘Peter! You’re home early,’ Rachel beamed her pleasure.

  ‘I couldn’t stay away from you for too long,’ he said, kissing the top of her head before dropping into his chair.

  Rachel puffed up her chest with delight. This man she had married years ago was still very much in love with her.

  Sighing contentedly, Rachel continued with her embroidery.

  Holding up the paper, Peter Unwin didn’t see the print. He was thinking about his unexpected meeting with that policeman. Fortunately he was standing still when he was spoken to, otherwise the copper may have realised he was walking in the wrong direction. He had told the officer he was coming from organ practice, but in fact he was walking towards the church. It was a close thing – if he’d been caught with one of the girls…! A shudder made the newspaper shake and he disguised it by turning the page.

  It was lucky none of the street-walkers were out and about. He could have had his collar felt and Rachel would have found out. She would have left him if he’d been hauled off to jail, and he would have lost his job into the bargain.

  He should give Camp Street a miss for a short while and then he could resume taking his pleasure when it was safer.

  *

  The all night vigil had be
en a waste of time, Inspector Jack Towers thought as he sat in his office the following morning.

  Tired to the bone, he slurped his medicine. His stomach ulcer was burning like a fire and he grimaced at the pain.

  Throughout the night, he and his officers had waited patiently in their allotted places in the hope of catching the murderer. Their efforts had been thwarted, for there had been no sign of a single soul as far as he was aware.

  He knew people were afraid to be out late at night and he also knew he had to apprehend this perpetrator quickly. However, it was impossible to know if or when he would strike again. Towers only had so many men in his small police force and they needed sleep, as he did himself.

  Rubbing his belly, willing his medicine to work quickly, he thought, At least no one lost their life last night.

  He watched his officers through the open door. Some were ambling about bleary eyed, others leaning heads in hands on their desks, desperately fighting to stay awake. Getting to his feet, he walked into the main office and all eyes went to him.

  ‘Get off home and sleep for a few hours. The day crew are out on patrol and this bugger seems only to strike in the dark hours. Be back here at eight o’clock sharp.’ Nodding, he watched his men leave with grateful thanks.

  Back in his own office, Jack Towers wondered if tonight would be the night they caught the elusive killer. I ain’t holding me breath!

  Laying his arms and head down on his desk, he closed his eyes. Before he surrendered to some much needed sleep, he prayed. Please God, let us get this swine before another innocent perishes.

  Twenty-One

  Mary Reed’s voice sailed across the room. ‘I’ll do fer you, Len Pritchard, you see if I don’t! You want my services, you pay like all the rest!’

  Seeing the young woman bending down with dustpan and brush, he’d crept up behind her and stroked her bottom. He stepped back as she rounded on him.

  ‘Aw come on, Mary, it’s only a bit o’ fun.’

  ‘Take yer fun elsewhere, Len, for I’ll not provide it – especially not fer free!’