Fallen Women

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  Eventually, when everyone had stopped laughing, Inspector Towers clapped the young man on the shoulder.

  ‘Right then, if plan A ain’t a goer, we can fall back on plan B. Thank you, gentlemen.’ With that, he retired to his office, a huge grin still splitting his face.

  Later that afternoon while Ann was supervising the sewing of her latest creation, there came a knock to the door. A moment later Inspector Jack Towers and Constable Phillips sat once more in Maisie’s front room.

  Richard was about to leave to check on Ella and Eve in the shop but changed his mind quickly as the officer accepted the offer of tea. Something was afoot and he wanted to know exactly what the police were here for.

  Towers drew in a breath before explaining the reason for their visit. He watched as mouths formed an ‘O’, then waited for the barrage he knew would come. And so it did. Everyone began speaking at once.

  ‘Inspector, you can’t be serious!’ Richard yelled above the cacophony.

  ‘I ain’t in agreement with it,’ this came from Maisie.

  ‘You’m bloody mad!’ Patsy said with an incredulous laugh.

  Only Ann sat quietly contemplating the idea Towers had laid before her.

  ‘Inspector,’ she said at last, ‘if it wasn’t for this, I would agree to your plan.’ She motioned to the sling.

  ‘Ann, you can’t possibly—’ Richard began.

  ‘I know, Richard. As I understand it, Inspector Towers, you thought I could stand the corner in the hope of the killer showing himself. However, it’s as I have already told you, I did not see his face, so I could not recognise him.’

  ‘Ann! He wants to use yer as bait!’ Patsy snapped.

  ‘I understand that, and yes I realise your police force would be on hand to catch the killer, but, Inspector, it took only seconds for this to happen.’ Again, she indicated her wounded arm. ‘It’s my guess, no matter how good your officers are, they would not be able to reach me in time to save my life and I am somewhat incapacitated just now.’

  Richard sighed with relief. Thank God Ann was showing some sense! He couldn’t bear to see her put in harm’s way again.

  ‘We thought that might be the case, so Constable Phillips has come up with another idea,’ Towers said. ‘We wondered if you ladies could provide some clothes for one of our officers and – some make-up. If we can dress him up as one of… he would stand a better chance of fighting back.’ Towers held his breath as he looked around at the faces watching him, his gaze lingering on Maisie.

  ‘We could do that,’ Ann said.

  Releasing his held breath, Towers nodded his thanks.

  ‘Who did you have in mind? We would need to know his size,’ Ann added.

  Constable Phillips stood up and minced across the floor, doing his best to imitate a feminine walk. The whole room erupted in raucous laughter.

  ‘I think some of my clothes should fit,’ Patsy said at last. ‘What’s yer first name?’

  The constable grinned. ‘Phillip.’

  Titters sounded, which exploded into full-blown laughs once more when Patsy replied, ‘Blimey! Your parents had a sense of humour, d’aint they? Phillip Phillips!’

  Once the giggles had died down, Patsy took off home to sort out some suitable clothing for the young policeman. Very quickly she was back with an old long skirt, blouse and shawl.

  ‘I brought some padding as well,’ she said as the men’s eyebrows raised. Tutting loudly, she placed her hands beneath her bosom. ‘He’s gonna need some of these!’

  The next couple of hours were taken up with getting Phillip, now rechristened Philomena to look like one of the girls.

  Maisie provided a wig and some make-up whilst Richard went to the barber’s shop to purchase a razor, soap and brush. The only thing they could not provide were shoes. Taking a size ten, the constable’s feet were huge.

  ‘It don’t matter, the skirt will cover them,’ Patsy laughed.

  Ann cried with laughter as Philomena practised a few well-chosen phrases.

  ‘Fancy a good time, darlin’?’ he said in a squeaky voice.

  ‘Oh Gawd, try it in a whisper,’ Maisie said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

  ‘That’s much better, but I have to admit I wouldn’t take you up on your offer!’ Richard put in.

  Whilst the little group were howling at the constable’s antics, Inspector Towers took his leave and returned to the station. He needed to co-ordinate his men and ensure they were all fully conversant with ‘Operation Philomena’.

  The inspector sat behind his desk and went over the plan in his mind yet again. They had to cover every eventuality; Constable Phillips’ life was on the line. All around the Camp Street area, officers would be stationed in strategic places, their main focus on the corner where Philomena would be waiting. It was clear from where the other unfortunate girls had been found that the killer followed his victim before striking. Towers had called in as many men as he could for tonight as it might be their only chance of catching the murderer.

  Towers thought again of the women who had perished at the hand of a madman. I will catch whoever it is! I will avenge you all, ladies, you have my word!

  As evening drew on, Jack Towers dispatched his force to their destinations to hide in wait. Dressed in workman’s clothes himself, Jack walked to the Bell Inn. This would be where he would wait and watch; hiding in plain sight.

  Twenty-Seven

  ‘Evening, Inspector,’ Len Pritchard whispered across the bar as he pulled a pint.

  Jack Towers nodded and laid down his coin very deliberately. ‘I’ll be needing a word with you and the missus.’

  ‘Best come through to the kitchen then.’ Len lifted the end of the counter and opened the little gate as Towers stepped forward.

  When Gladys saw who had walked into her kitchen, her eyes instantly went to her husband. ‘What you bloody done now?’

  ‘I ain’t done nuthin’, I swear.’ Len said.

  ‘You could be the murderer for all we bloody know!’ Gladys said spitefully.

  ‘Well I ain’t! I was the one who found that wench by the bins…’

  ‘If I might get a word in,’ Towers interjected.

  Mary, Gladys and Len all sat in silence around the large table as the inspector filled them in on ‘Operation Philomena’.

  ‘We thanks you fer that,’ Len muttered.

  ‘Ooh, it’s excitin’, ain’t it?’ Gladys ventured. ‘Is there anythin’ we can do to help?’

  Towers shook his head, but then Mary spoke up. ‘It won’t work.’

  Taken aback, Towers asked, ‘Why not?’

  ‘If there’s only one standing – and there will be ’cos Len has chased the others away – that bleeder will know it’s a trap, so he will,’ Mary stated.

  ‘Damn and blast!’ Jack spat, then quieter said, ‘my apologies, ladies.’ This was something the police team had missed.

  ‘Don’t be worrying now, for if Gladys will give me the night off, I’ll stand with yer man.’

  ‘Mary, no!’ Gladys wailed. ‘It’s too bloody dangerous!’

  ‘Look, Gladys, somebody needs to be doing this and I’m here and willing, so I am. It ain’t like I’ve never done it before. It makes sense, and if the powlis are all over the place then I’ll be fine.’

  ‘We would be grateful – we cannot let this bugger get away! We have to catch him soon!’ Jack said pleadingly.

  ‘If yer’ll give me a minute, I need to be changing my clothes and putting on my war paint,’ Mary laughed, pushing her fiery red hair off her face.

  Meanwhile, over in Union Street, Ella and Eve Hall locked up the shop and took a cab to Maisie’s house.

  ‘Oh, Annie!’ Ella gasped as she spotted the sling.

  ‘I’m all right,’ Ann smiled, ‘come in and have tea. Maisie’s baked a cake too.’

  Patsy made tea and cut the cake.

  The four women chatted quietly and Richard looked on.

  Ann explained about Philomena, who ha
d so recently left to stand the corner and again the room was filled with titters.

  Richard watched Ann in the glow of the lamp as she giggled; her hair shining and her eyes glittering with tears of laughter. His heart swelled with pride at the courage she had shown during and after the dreadful attack. He knew he could never let this girl go – he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

  Ann glanced across at him and smiled and his heart melted. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

  *

  As night closed in, Mary Reed ambled up to the figure standing on the corner of Camp Street.

  ‘Evening, Philomena, I’m Mary. I’ve just been ’aving a word with your inspector.’

  Constable Phillips parted his lipstick covered lips and grinned. ‘Nice to meet yer, Mary,’ he whispered.

  Mary reiterated what she’d said to Towers and Philomena agreed she was sensible in her thinking.

  ‘I just ’ope yer mates are watching out for us, that I do!’ Mary said, feeling her nerves jangle.

  ‘We’re surrounded,’ the young constable assured her.

  ‘Well, I’ll be standin’ ’ere after you’ve gone, ’cos it seems this fella is attacking away from this corner. Inspector Towers said as I’ll be taken ’ome by one of yer officers. I just ’ope as you’m safe, lad, so keep yer wits about yer. Remember what our Annie did by covering her throat,’ Mary said, hoping that from afar they appeared to be two women chatting.

  ‘I got a thick leather strap round my neck under this blouse and it ain’t half chaffing!’ he laughed.

  ‘That’s a good idea, to be sure.’

  The two talked quietly for a while, then the young constable said it was time to move.

  Bidding her goodnight, he strolled away, leaving Mary worrying about the welfare of them both. As she watched him go, she suddenly felt very alone. Casting her eyes around, she searched for any sign of police – she saw none and her fear increased. Shuffling from foot to foot, Mary wondered how long she would have to wait before she was escorted home. As she looked up and down the street she thought, This is the very last time I’ll stand out here, that’s for certain!

  As it turned out, it was not the last time Mary Reed would stand the corner of Camp Street.

  Having been escorted back to the Bell Inn by a young constable half an hour later, Mary was trembling. Downing in one the gin offered to her, she nodded her thanks. Now all she could do was wait and pray Philomena was safe.

  In the early hours of the morning, Mary received another visit from Inspector Towers and his trusty constable.

  ‘There was no sign of the murderer,’ he said as he rubbed his sore abdomen.

  ‘Ah, so yer’ll be wanting some company again tonight, is that right?’ Mary asked.

  Philomena nodded his head.

  Mary looked to Gladys for permission and at her nod she echoed the sentiment just as Maisie, Ella, Eve and Patsy walked in with Richard close behind.

  ‘Did yer get ’im then?’ Maisie asked.

  With a shake of his head, the inspector related the events of earlier, his eyes never leaving Maisie’s face.

  ‘Mary, for God’s sake! Yer can’t be puttin’ yerself out there again on yer own! Christ Almighty, our Annie will hit the roof when she ’ears about this!’ Maisie was furious.

  ‘I’m knowing that already, but someone has to be doin’ it,’ Mary answered.

  ‘Right then, if that’s the case, me an’ the girls will be standin’ with yer!’ Maisie’s head nodded once, emphasising she would brook no argument on the matter.

  ‘It would be safer for you, Mary,’ the inspector said finally, ‘and if that bloke is out there, it might lull him into a false sense of security. He’ll probably think everything is back to normal.’

  ‘Maisie, you should stay at home with Ann,’ Richard said. Seeing her about to protest, he went on, ‘She’ll need someone with her and I can’t stay with her all night; propriety will not allow.’ Maisie nodded and he added, ‘Good. I will escort you all here to the Bell, then Maisie and I can return to Ann.’

  So it was agreed, Ella and Eve as well as Patsy and Mary knew they would be back on the streets yet again that night – even if only for a couple of hours.

  It was also agreed that Ann would not be told of the task the women had undertaken, and would continue to do, until the killer was apprehended.

  Early that evening after another visit to Ann, Ella and Eve said they were going to the Bell to see Mary. Maisie and Patsy opted to go with them, but Ann refused the offer, saying she would have an early night. She was fatigued after her ordeal.

  Richard, seeing the tiredness on Ann’s countenance, agreed to accompany the girls. ‘To ensure you all arrive safely,’ he said with a grin.

  Once they had left, Ann settled herself by the fire with her sketchbook. She couldn’t sew as yet, but she could draw some dreamy new designs before she retired for the night.

  The door had been left on the sneck for Maisie’s return so she would not disturb Ann when she came in later.

  Ann yawned and laid down her book. Placing the guard around the fire, her thoughts went to the young policeman who was putting himself in danger. Please God keep him safe, she thought as she took her cup to the kitchen.

  Returning to the living room to check all was well for the night, she gasped in shock.

  Standing before her was Victoria Beckett brandishing a kitchen knife, a look of pure madness on her face.

  Twenty-Eight

  Victoria Beckett had returned to her hotel room after the contretemps with Patsy the whore.

  Sitting on her bed, her fury knew no bounds. Her fate was sealed regarding Lord Richard Wyndham – he had threatened her with the magistrate!

  Muttering to herself, Victoria’s temper quickened with each passing thought.

  ‘Damn that woman! Every time I get close to seeing you ruined, someone comes to your aid. Well, I think it’s time for you to start worrying, Ann Felton, because I’m coming for you!’ A feral grin stretched her mouth and Victoria began to cackle. Low and guttural at first it rose to a maniacal screeching. Then suddenly there was silence.

  Barely eating and not sleeping at all, the stress of being thrown out by her parents as well as having to find a job had taken its toll on Victoria. She had, by a strange coincidence, come upon Ann Felton in the street and had endeavoured to run her down with her horse and trap. She had tried desperately to prevent the girl’s gowns selling from the drapers, and when she was found out, she was sacked. Then Felton had stolen the man she intended to marry; this was something Victoria would never forgive.

  Again a cackle sounded, then she sat stock still on her bed, staring out of the window at the chimney pots on the building opposite.

  Victoria Beckett had gone quite mad.

  And so it was that particular evening when the girls were standing the corner with the constable, Victoria made her way to Queen Street and watched Richard and the girls leave the house. Ann was not with them; did that mean she was in the house alone? If so, this was Victoria’s chance. Ensuring everyone was gone, she sidled up to the front door, hoping it wouldn’t be locked. To her delight, it had been left on the latch. Then – she was face to face with Felton.

  Ann stared at the girl in the living room, who had a gleam of insanity in her eyes.

  ‘Oh dear, had a little accident, have we?’ Victoria giggled, waving the knife at Ann’s arm.

  ‘What do you want?’ Ann said, subconsciously cradling her wounded arm in a protective gesture.

  ‘I want you out of my life!’ Victoria snarled, holding up the knife, then she began to circle the table that separated them.

  Ann saw the knife’s glint in the light of the lamp as she moved slowly away from the approaching threat.

  ‘Why? What have I done to you that you would threaten me with a knife?’ Ann kept her voice steady despite the fear coursing through her.

  ‘You ask me that? All right – I’ll tell you,’ Vict
oria continued to circle her quarry. ‘It was your fault my father threw me out without a penny to my name!’

  ‘How could I be responsible for that?’ Ann took another step away. If she could keep this woman at bay long enough, then Richard and Maisie might be back.

  ‘Shut up! You wanted to know, so you just listen!’ Victoria snapped.

  Ann nodded her acquiescence. For all the world they looked like two prize fighters weighing each other up.

  ‘If that wasn’t enough, you then made sure I was dismissed from my work at Williams’ Drapery!’ Victoria wrinkled her nose in disgust at having to work in the first place.

  ‘I can assure you I had nothing to do with that,’ Ann ventured. She had to keep Victoria talking. She prayed her friends were on their way home.

  ‘You’re lying!’ Victoria’s voice rose an octave.

  ‘No, I’m not,’ Ann whispered in an effort to cool the girl’s escalating temper. Grateful the table was between them, Ann took another sidestep.

  ‘You’ve taken the man I was going to marry! Lord Wyndham was supposed to be my husband!’ Victoria growled. She moved again, as did Ann.

  ‘Richard is a friend,’ Ann said, praying the girl would believe her. She winced as Victoria gave a shrill laugh. Clearly Miss Beckett had lost her mind.

  ‘You expect me to fall for that? I’ve seen you together and it’s more than friendship!’

  The sneer was unnerving and Ann was more and more afraid as the minutes ticked by. She could not hope to fight off Victoria with her arm confined to its sling. Ways to escape flashed through her mind; if she could get to the door, she could flee.

  As if reading her thoughts, Victoria changed direction and began to circle the other way, all the time keeping her back to the door, trapping Ann inside the room.

  Ann considered trying to escape through the back door, but she knew this to be locked securely and in the time it took to open it, Victoria would be on her.

  ‘Victoria, you don’t want to do this,’ Ann pleaded.

  ‘Oh, but I do! You see, with you out of the way, the road to becoming Lady Wyndham would be clear for me.’ Again she cackled like a witch from a fairy tale.