Fallen Women

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  ‘Oh, get up, Mother! Stop play acting!’

  Ariadne tried again to scramble to her feet, but something in her head didn’t feel right. It was as if tiny explosions were happening one after another and as she stared up at the young woman hovering over her, Ariadne realised she didn’t know who it was and the room was unrecognisable to her too. Rubbing her temple, she moaned and grabbed hold of the chair in an effort to stand.

  ‘Where am I? Who are you?’ Ariadne asked quietly.

  Victoria stared hard at the woman looking around her. Was she faking it or had the blow to her head caused her to lose her memory? Either way, Victoria knew she could not leave her mother in this condition. If she called for help, she would have to have plausible explanations to hand. If the police came and they found the knife in her bag – there would be no way to explain that. Thinking quickly, Victoria stepped to her mother, who was still glancing around. Grabbing the woman by the shoulders, she spun her around, then tucking her foot behind Ariadne, she tripped her backwards with a hard shove to her shoulders.

  Ariadne landed with a thud, the air knocked from her lungs. She lay there, trying to work out what was happening, then suddenly the girl was on her.

  Victoria grabbed her mother’s hair and repeatedly banged the back of her head on the marble fireplace. After a moment, she saw the life ebb away from the terrified eyes.

  Panting now, Victoria looked around her. The bureau – that’s where the money is kept!

  Moving swiftly, she grabbed what she could find and rammed it into her bag. Walking to the parlour door, she spared her dead mother one last look. There had been no need for the knife after all. With a grin like a Cheshire cat, she walked quietly from the house.

  Thirty-Two

  Lord Richard Wyndham looked out of the window of Greystone Mansion, his house set in the wilds of Shropshire. He watched the gardeners trimming the topiaries dotted here and there around the extensive lawns. Nestled deep in the countryside, the massive house was built of grey stone, hence its name, and had a multitude of rooms both downstairs and upstairs, one of which had recently been converted to an indoor bathroom.

  Turning, he cast his eyes around the luxurious living room with its latest fashion furniture polished to within an inch of its life by the parlour maid.

  Through the open door came tantalising aromas drifting from the kitchen, where the cook was preparing a scrumptious lunch. Richard shook his head; he had no appetite, not even for the delicious recipes his cook concocted. As he walked out of the room, he thought, Oh Ann, you would have loved it here, I’m sure.

  Feeling tears sting, he strode to the stables. He decided he would visit his tenant farmers in an endeavour to dispel his misery.

  Riding across the fields, his thoughts centred on Ann Felton as they did all of his waking hours. She had sent him away, but why? Surely the different social status could not be the only reason, despite her insistence that it was. There must be more to it. Was it she thought she loved him then came to realise she didn’t? Was her business more important to her than he was? Did she care more for her friends than she did for him?

  Bringing his horse to walk, Richard pondered these questions and what he should do about them. He wondered if Ann realised how much he loved her. There was no way on God’s green earth he could marry another now; Ann Felton was his world.

  Whilst Richard was visiting his tenants, over in Wednesbury Ann was thinking much the same thing. She had sent Richard away for his own good; at least that was what she was telling herself. But oh, how she missed him!

  A knock to the door broke her thoughts and she exchanged a look with Maisie. Opening the door, Ann stood face to face with Constable Phillips. Now what? Once indoors, the constable spoke.

  ‘I thought you should know – we had to release Victoria Beckett.’ Seeing the shock register on the girls’ faces, he rushed on, ‘I’m sorry. The inspector doesn’t know I’m here and I’d be grateful if it stayed that way. You see, there was no evidence to support your claim. She said you attacked her and she disarmed you before Mr Wyndham came in.’

  ‘But that’s not true!’ Ann gasped as she dropped onto a chair.

  ‘We’re inclined to agree with you, Miss Felton, but without evidence or proof – I’m really sorry. Please be extra vigilant now you know she’s walked free.’ Constable Phillips’ disgust was evident by the look on his face.

  ‘Ta very much for lettin’ us know,’ Maisie said as she saw the policeman out. ‘Well, would you believe it?’ Maisie asked as she sat down by the fireside.

  ‘Yes, actually I would. What the constable said could be true, if you look at it as an outsider. Only she and I know the complete truth of the incident – it’s her word against mine.’ Ann shook her head.

  ‘I’ll tell you what, you just mind yer bloody back ’cos it’s my guess her ain’t finished with you yet!’ Maisie was now pacing the room.

  ‘That was my thought too,’ Ann agreed quietly.

  ‘Come on, get yer shawl – I need a drink!’ Maisie said, grabbing her own shawl from the nail in the back of the door.

  Five minutes later, the two young women were walking along to the Bell Inn.

  ‘You ’ave to be coddin’!’ Gladys Pritchard gasped when Ann had finished relating what Constable Phillips had told them.

  Ann shook her head and in answer said, ‘No, Gladys, I’m not joking with you.’

  ‘Her needs a bloody good lamping does that one. Spoilt to the bone by ’er parents. If her’d been my daughter I would ’ave tanned her arse long ago.’ Gladys could hardly believe what she’d heard.

  ‘Now, Gladys, my little cherub, it’s probably just as well you ain’t a mother – poor kid would have a dog’s life living with you,’ Len said, taking a step out of harm’s way.

  ‘Well, it ain’t my fault as we ’ave no kiddies – so that means it must be yours!’ Gladys retaliated.

  Ann smiled thinking, Here we go again!

  ‘Annie girl, you just be careful,’ Mary Reed said, ‘for you don’t know what that Victoria may be thinking; sure, she may be on the lookout for you as we speak.’

  ‘I will take care, Mary,’ Ann said, thinking she would have been safer if Richard was still around. She would have been happier too. Pushing the thoughts away, she listened to the banter between the landlord and his wife.

  ‘Can I get you another beer, my turtle dove?’ Len asked.

  ‘No,’ his wife answered, ‘but yer can get me a gin.’

  ‘Mother’s ruin eh?’ Len laughed. ‘No wonder we ain’t got no kids.’

  Gladys raised a forefinger in warning. ‘One more word, Len Pritchard…’

  ‘So, what will you do?’ Len asked Ann as he passed the drink to his wife.

  ‘Not much I can do as I see it, Len, other than go about my usual business,’ Ann replied.

  ‘Well, no pigeons ’ome, no kids washed,’ Maisie said as she stood to leave.

  Ann nodded at the quaint expression and she agreed – time was ticking away and the gown they were working on wasn’t getting done. Fortunately, Ann had some new customers now and the money was at last beginning to trickle in.

  Walking back to Queen Street, Maisie wondered how she could get a message to Richard Wyndham. Ann was thoroughly miserable without him and she felt that was something he should know. Maybe if he did, between them they could persuade Ann to welcome him back into her life.

  ‘You’re quiet, Maisie, is anything wrong?’ Ann asked.

  ‘Nah, I was just thinking,’ her friend replied.

  ‘Anything I can help with?’

  Maisie shook her head and they continued on in silence.

  Once home, Ann checked her savings. She needed more material so had thought to go to Williams’ Drapery first thing in the morning. It would be a good time to see the Hall sisters too.

  As promised when she first moved in with her friend, Ann had begun to pay Maisie board and lodging when she had received payment from her first sale; now she
needed to ensure future sales. The girls had worked hard on Ann’s designs under her tutelage, and women came to the shop to order new dresses quite regularly now. The construction of ball gowns, wedding and bridesmaids’ dresses, as well as page boy outfits were keeping them all busy for the time being, but Ann knew she would have to continue to build the business as best as she could.

  Monday morning arrived and packing up her latest creation, a mother of the bride outfit in burgundy taffeta, Ann collected her purse, saying, ‘I’m going to change the shop display, I’ll see you later.’ She had struggled with her arm still in the sling, but she persevered, her sense of independence strong within her.

  Maisie had watched Ann struggle with the packing of the dress. Her left arm still hung in the sling, but Ann steadfastly refused help, considering herself perfectly capable of carrying out such a small task.

  ‘You just watch out for yerself,’ Maisie said with quiet concern.

  ‘I will,’ Ann said, picking up her bundle.

  As she strode through the town, Ann was true to her word and kept a constant lookout for Victoria Beckett. The girl could be anywhere and it was Ann’s fervent hope she had left Wednesbury altogether.

  Reaching the shop, Ann laid her heavy bundle on the counter and hugged Ella and Eve in turn. ‘I’ve come to change the window.’

  ‘Have you seen this?’ Eve asked, handing over the newspaper.

  Ann’s eyes scanned the headline.

  Prominent Banker’s Wife Found Dead!

  Reading the article, Ann gasped as she looked up at the two girls watching her.

  ‘That’s Mrs Beckett – Victoria’s mother!’ she said on a breath.

  The sisters nodded in unison.

  ‘It says here that foul play is suspected,’ Ann went on, ‘it can’t be the man who murdered Floss because he’s in jail…’

  Again Ella and Eve nodded their heads in agreement.

  ‘Who would want to do such a thing?’ Ann asked. Looking at her friends, she saw the raised eyebrows. ‘Surely not! Even Victoria Beckett couldn’t be so wicked as to kill her own mother!’ In an instant Ann recalled Victoria’s words as she had circled the table brandishing the knife. So now I have my parents to visit… I will make sure they have no more life to live!

  ‘Well, I’m sure the police will get to the bottom of it one way or another,’ Ella said at last.

  ‘Come on, I’ll give you a hand with the window display, seein’ as though you’m incarcerated,’ Eve added.

  ‘Incapacitated,’ Ann corrected gently.

  ‘Oh ar,’ Eve giggled.

  Ella watched her younger sister climb into the window space, all the time grumbling about how small it was. Their friends knew very little about them; the sisters were very private girls. Her mind slipped back to the years of their growing up when their education had been spasmodic. They came from a gypsy family, so schooling was wherever and whenever they stayed for any length of time before being moved on, when they would again have to find a school to accept them.

  Eve had settled into their new way of life fairly easily, but Ella missed travelling the country in their vardo, the barrel shaped gypsy caravan.

  Listening to the laughter coming from the front of the shop, Ella sighed. It had been a hard life on the road, but it was exciting as a child. It was only as she grew older that she realised how much the company of Romanies, the kumpania, were hated by townsfolk. The telling of tall tales left these people in fear and consequently the gypsies were moved on at the least provocation.

  Sighing again, Ella recalled their father’s passing. Accused of theft, Liam Hall had been beaten to death in a dark alley. No one had been brought to account for the terrible crime. The girls and their mother had moved on as soon as Liam had been buried, but life was not the same. They struggled to sell their goods in order to buy food and then their mother became ill. Within the month she had passed over and the girls were forced into firing the vardo in true Romany tradition before burying their mother.

  Wandering the country, the two young women found themselves in Wednesbury, where the only path open to them was prostitution. Their full skirts and fringed shawls had been replaced by the low-cut neckline dresses when they had been forced out onto the streets.

  When questioned about their life previous to standing the corner, the girls had remained tight lipped. It wouldn’t do to be chased away from here. It was unpleasant, to say the least, and sometimes dangerous work, but it kept them fed and afforded them a roof over their heads. Now the opportunity at the drapery had given them a new start and they were grateful for it.

  Ella smiled as Eve scrambled from the window, huffing and puffing.

  ‘Right, let’s ’ave a look at our ’andiwork,’ she said, going to the shop door.

  The three women stood admiring the new display and Ann was delighted. The mannequins stood side by side – a bride and her mother. The burgundy gown looked perfect and Ann beamed with pleasure.

  ‘Thank you, ladies, I’ll be off now,’ Ann hugged the girls again and set off for home, her mind engrossed in thoughts of the newspaper article she’d read on her arrival.

  First the murderer and now this! Wednesbury had always been a quiet town; people were too busy earning a living to make ends meet. Recently there had been a spate of killings and everyone lived in fear that they could be next.

  Ann’s thoughts moved to Inspector Jack Towers and she sighed. She knew he was sweet on Maisie by the looks passed between the two, and now the poor man had his work cut out for him yet again with Mrs Beckett’s demise.

  Hurrying on, she determined to think no more about it.

  Stepping out to cross the road, she heard a shout.

  ‘Whoa there!’

  Turning swiftly, she saw a man reining in his horse.

  ‘Richard!’ Ann’s face lit up as Lord Wyndham jumped from the saddle.

  Thirty-Three

  Inspector Jack Towers and Constable Phillips sat in the parlour at The Beeches with a distraught maid and a grieving William Beckett.

  ‘Now tell me again if you would, so we can be sure we have all the facts,’ Jack said, absent-mindedly rubbing his abdomen.

  ‘I – I let her in – Miss Beckett that is – and I went back to the kitchen.’

  ‘Your job is to see guests into the parlour!’ William snapped.

  ‘Mr Beckett, if you don’t mind,’ Jack said, before returning his attention to the maid. ‘Go on, Miss James.’

  ‘I’m Iris,’ she said and the inspector nodded. ‘Well, I took the tea in, then scarpered.’

  ‘And why was that?’ Towers probed.

  ‘’Cos I knew they was about to ’ave another argument. I ’eard raised voices when I took the tray.’ Iris’s voice cracked.

  ‘Did you hear what was said?’

  Iris shook her head, trying hard to think.

  ‘When ’er arrived, ’er said as how her’d come to see ’er mother. Then after, when I took the tea, I ’eard the mistress ask what Miss Victoria wanted.’ Iris was agitated; she knew she’d be in serious trouble if it came out she had listened at the door before returning to the kitchen.

  ‘And?’ Towers pushed.

  ‘And… and…’ Iris was petrified now as she glanced at the master of the house.

  Towers guessed what Iris was afraid of – she was scared she would be dismissed from her post. Turning to William Beckett, he asked, ‘Would you mind giving us a moment in private, sir? Iris here is still in shock and I don’t think a visit to the station for an interview would help.’

  ‘Of course, Inspector, I’ll be in my study when you’ve finished.’ William shot an angry glance at Iris before he left the room.

  Jack watched the man leave the room, closing the door behind him, then said, ‘Now, Iris, it’s my guess you had yer ear pinned to that door.’ Seeing her surprised expression at being caught out, he went on quickly, ‘It’s of no mind to me. I won’t be telling yer master, but I need to know everything you can tell me.
’

  Iris nodded and swallowed hard. ‘They was goin’ at it hammer and tongs. Miss Beckett said ’er ’ad no money and the missus wouldn’t give ’er any. The missus called her spiteful and childish and said as ’ow her’d always be miserable if her d’aint mend ’er ways.’ Iris drew in a breath.

  ‘Go on, you’re doing well,’ the inspector coaxed.

  ‘Ar well, Miss Victoria said everything would go to ’er eventually so why couldn’t ’er ’ave it now?’

  Jack exchanged a glance with the constable.

  ‘Then what?’ he asked the trembling girl.

  ‘Then the missus said as ’er had no option – then… then it sounded like there was a scuffle. I ’eard Miss Victoria say “get up, Mother” and I ran for it. I stayed in the kitchen ’til I was sure Miss Victoria had gone.’

  ‘How long was that, do you think?’ Jack felt his pulse quicken.

  ‘I don’t know, half an hour maybe,’ Iris said on a sob. ‘Oh, if only I’d gone straight away to fetch the tray, I would ’ave—’

  ‘No, Iris, you couldn’t have done anything. Mrs Beckett would have been dead almost immediately, according to the doctor.’ Towers patted the maid’s hand gently. ‘Now, are you sure there were no other visitors?’

  Iris shook her head. ‘No. When I found the missus, I ran for the doctor straight off.’

  ‘Thank you, Iris, you can fetch Mr Beckett now please, then you can return to your duties. You’ve been extremely helpful.’

  Scurrying from the room, Iris did as she was bid.

  Constable Phillips blew through his teeth as he and the inspector looked at each other.

  William Beckett marched in as the two policemen got to their feet.