The Doorstep Girls

by Valerie Wood

  Edward drove fast down the road into Hull. He was full of nervous tension and excitement. Hope she’s all right, he thought, this girl. Can I be sure she’s a virgin? These women have ways of fooling a man. Still, the fellow did say she was untried. A picture of the dark-haired girl from the mill came into his head. Why do I keep thinking of her? I even looked for her in that crowd of women when her friend confronted us, but I didn’t see her. She was a beauty too, the fair one, but not my type. Too ethereal. I think Martin was irritated by her. She seemed to have got under his skin.

  He drove towards his club which was situated off the High Street, parallel with the river Hull. Glancing along the staithes he caught a glimpse of ships’ masts and rigging, for this narrow stretch of the river was the original harbour and was still in constant use, despite the additional docks built over the last three decades.

  The High Street was narrow and he whistled a boy to lead the horse into a nearby inn yard where they had good stabling. ‘Tell them Newmarch,’ he said, giving the boy twopence. ‘They know me.’

  He went into his club and made a point of greeting several men who were playing cards. He sought out Jarvis, Martin’s friend, and gave him the message. ‘Have a brandy?’ Jarvis asked.

  ‘Yes, but I’ll get them. Same for you?’

  ‘Erm, no thanks. I’m just off. Promised I’d be home early.’

  Edward tossed back his brandy, ran up the stairs and greeted other people, then slipped down again, through the gaming room, the smoking room and out of the side door. The cold river air tingled in his nostrils as he cut along Scale Lane into the busy street of Lowgate where carriages, hansom cabs and hauliers’ carts were trundling past. He hailed a cab. ‘New George Street,’ he said, for that was where he had arranged to meet the youth, whose name he had forgotten to ask. ‘There’s an inn called The Ship.’

  ‘Indeed there is, sir.’ The cabby clicked his tongue and they moved off. ‘And take care of your pocket watch.’

  ‘Damn,’ Edward breathed. ‘Perhaps I should have said I’d meet him outside. I might be recognized if any of the workers are in there.’

  But a figure was waiting outside the inn door, and, as Edward paid off the cabman, he came forward. ‘Good evening, sir. It’s good to see you. Are you well?’

  Edward grunted in reply and Jamie smiled. The fellow was nervous. Well, that made two of them, he thought, for Ruby was positively shaking.

  ‘I’m freezing, Jamie,’ she said as she walked alongside him. She’d been cold all the afternoon, especially after coming out of the hot baths. The cold air had struck through her thin garments right to her bones. She hadn’t been able to wear her old shift as she’d washed it, and after buying the new one at Rena’s, she’d thrown her old one away and seen two poorly clad women pounce on it, grabbing it between them.

  The velvet gown was warmer than her cotton skirt and shirt, yet she still trembled. Grace had offered her the loan of her shawl which was in a better condition than her own but she was still cold, right down to her bare toes in her boots.

  ‘I’ll get you a brandy when we get to Morrison’s,’ Jamie promised. ‘That’ll warm you up.’

  ‘Morrison’s? Where’s that?’

  ‘It’s a sort of rooming house, just off New George Street. Travelling men stay there during the week and at weekends they let rooms out on an hourly basis. It’s respectable,’ he added.

  ‘Hmm. I’m sure it is,’ she muttered and gave another shudder.

  It wasn’t far and the house was clean. Mrs Morrison led the way upstairs. ‘I’ll come and collect you if you like, Ruby,’ Jamie called after her.

  ‘No.’ She turned round from halfway up the stairs. ‘It’s all right. I’ll come back on my own. I’d rather.’ She didn’t want Jamie ogling her or, worse, asking how it was. ‘I know my way.’

  The bedroom was small, but to Ruby it seemed like a palace. A bed with a quilted counterpane dominated the room, but there was also a washstand with a jug and bowl on it, a towel hanging on a wooden rail, and, best of all, a blazing fire and a hod full of glistening black coal standing next to it.

  ‘Jamie said to give you a drop o’ brandy,’ Mrs Morrison said, looking at Ruby with narrowed eyes.

  ‘Not now, thanks.’ Ruby refused her offer and wondered who would pay for it, her or Jamie. It wouldn’t be free, that was for certain. ‘I’ll perhaps have one later.’

  She wondered if the woman knew why she was here, but it was confirmed that she did when she remarked, ‘I’ll send ’gentleman up when he arrives. You can get yourself warm while you’re waiting. You look frozen stiff.’

  Ruby nodded and when Mrs Morrison had closed the door behind her, she drew nearer to the fire, standing as close as she dared without scorching her dress. There was a mirror above the fire and she looked up into it. She saw a pale tense face framed by dark hair which Grace had plaited and coiled in the nape of her neck, and behind her the bed.

  She went across to it and tested it with her hands. The springs creaked. Then she sat down on it. Oh, what I wouldn’t give just to sleep in it, she thought, without having to demean myself with a stranger, and as the thought entered her head, there came a quiet knock on the door.

  Jamie touched his hat as Edward hesitated at the doorway of the house. ‘You’re expected, sir. But don’t worry, the lady of the house is discreet. She won’t know you. Even if you had lived next door all your life, which obviously you haven’t, she wouldn’t know you. Thank you, sir.’ He tipped his hat again as Edward pressed a coin into his hand. ‘Just pay ’young woman the amount we agreed on and ’landlady for the room.’ He nodded and prepared to move away. ‘Trust we will meet again. Jamie’s the name. Just ask. Everybody knows me.’

  ‘I’m sure they do,’ Edward muttered as he followed the woman’s fingered direction up the stairs and heard the low strains of Jamie’s whistle as she closed the outer door.

  ‘If there’s anything you need, sir,’ she said. ‘A glass of ale or something, I’ll just be in my parlour.’ She pointed to another door.

  He nodded and climbed the uncarpeted stairs. What am I doing here in this shabby decrepit place? For although it seemed fairly clean, as was the landlady, it was in a state of decay, with a frayed curtain at the door and a faint smell of mould pervading the air. I must be mad! For heaven’s sake, I’m getting married in a few weeks. He heaved a breath. I’ll give the girl a shilling and leave, that’s what I’ll do. Say I’m feeling unwell. Yes, that’s it.

  He lifted his hand and with his knuckles gave a soft rap on the door panel. A low voice called, ‘Come in,’ and he opened the door and stepped inside.

  A faded satin counterpane covered the bed, and a girl was sitting on the side of it with her head lowered as if contemplating her folded hands in her lap. The room, at a quick glance, showed it to be as dingy as the rest of the house, but a bright fire was burning in the hearth, which dispersed the aroma of damp. He closed the door behind him, took off his top hat and cleared his throat.

  She looked up, turning a pale and nervous face towards him. As she saw who it was, her eyes widened and she put her hands to her mouth in alarm.

  ‘You!’ Edward breathed. ‘It’s you!’

  Ruby rose slowly from the bed. ‘Mr Newmarch! Sir.’ She dipped her knee. ‘I wasn’t – I mean, I didn’t expect –’

  He stared at her. ‘Nor I you. I –’

  ‘I haven’t done anything like this – I mean –’ She felt her face flush with colour. ‘It’s just that our hours have been cut –’ Her eyes flooded with tears which spilled onto her cheeks. ‘And we just can’t live –’

  ‘Don’t.’ He took a step towards her. ‘You don’t have to explain – not to me.’

  She sat down again on the edge of the bed and wiped her tears with her fingertips. She swallowed and looked up at him. ‘I’ll not say owt – anything, sir, and if you just want to go I shan’t mind. It’s all right, and I’m not a gossip and nobody knows that I’m here. Onny Jamie – and
Grace, I had to tell Grace.’

  ‘Grace?’ he said vaguely and looked down at her, feeling his heart pounding. She was beautiful in spite of her cheap and tawdry dress. She wore no rouge or cosmetic, yet, her skin was soft and flawless.

  ‘She’s my friend, sir. We share everything, but she’s not a gossip either.’

  He sat beside her on the bed and put down his hat. ‘This is a pretty kettle of fish, isn’t it?’ He looked at her intently and asked, ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Ruby, sir. Ruby Robson.’

  Ruby. The name suited her, he thought. It was rich and vibrant. ‘So what are we to do, Ruby?’ he asked softly and took hold of her hand. ‘Seeing as we know each other.’

  ‘I don’t know, sir.’ She turned luminous dark eyes towards him. ‘I’m very frightened,’ she confessed.

  ‘Frightened? Of me?’ He felt an unaccountable sense of protectiveness towards her vulnerability.

  ‘Of being here. I – I don’t know – haven’t been with a man before.’

  ‘Never? Surely! A stolen kiss perhaps?’ He gazed at her. Yes, she did have an air of innocence, of naivety, but he couldn’t believe her. To have taken such a step as she had, she must have had some experience.

  She shook her head. ‘Life’s too wearying, sir. There’s no time for pleasure, and no chance of meeting anybody nice.’

  He looked down at her hand which he still held. Her fingers were long and the skin pale, and without thinking he stroked them, down to the tips and back. ‘I shouldn’t be here either,’ he began.

  ‘Oh, but gentlemen do,’ she excused him, ‘so I understand, or that’s what Jamie says. He says that their wives don’t – or not often.’ She swallowed. ‘So they have to go to other women,’ she finished lamely.

  He gave a sudden smile. ‘Is that what Jamie says? Well, I’m not married. Not yet, at any rate.’ But that is why I’m here, he cogitated. To get this urge out of me before I am married.

  ‘If you want to just leave,’ she repeated anxiously, ‘I’ll understand, though I don’t know who’ll pay for the room.’

  ‘I’ll pay for the room,’ he said quickly. ‘I booked it, after all.’ But do I want to leave? he thought. It won’t be right, not now, all desire has gone from me. Yet I want to see her again. He saw the anxiety on her face and impulsively he leant and kissed her cheek. Her lips parted and he longed to kiss those too.

  ‘Ruby,’ he said. ‘This has been a shock to both of us, meeting here like this.’ He took a breath. ‘What I suggest is, that I pay you as if everything had gone to plan. I suppose you have to give some money to this Jamie fellow?’

  She nodded. ‘Half,’ she said.

  Good God, he thought. She’s giving her virginity for a pittance. She must be in dire straits. ‘Well,’ he said, and bringing out his pocketbook, he extracted some money. ‘This is what I agreed with Jamie.’ He put the money into her hand, ‘and this is for you.’ He pressed further coinage into her hand.

  ‘But I can’t,’ she objected. ‘I haven’t done anything to earn it.’

  I often spend a week at the mill doing absolutely nothing to earn my salary, he thought. And I don’t even think about it. Yet she declines to take the money because she hasn’t earned it.

  ‘For your trouble,’ he persuaded. ‘For coming out on such a cold miserable night. But there’s a condition.’

  Ah, she worried. I might have known.

  ‘I don’t want you to say anything to this fellow Jamie or the landlady, about tonight.’ He gazed at her as she shook her head in denial of doing such a thing. ‘And,’ he was sure that he sounded nervous as he made his proposal, ‘I would like to see you again, if you are willing. Only not here,’ he added quickly. ‘Somewhere else. I’ll find some other place where neither of us is known.’

  She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. So, he did want to – to be with her, even though she was a virgin and not experienced in this line of work. She considered. Better to lie with him than a complete stranger. And he was a gentleman, after all, with a reputation to consider. If word got out at the mill! She decided. ‘All right,’ she whispered. ‘If you like.’

  He gave a little smile. ‘If I like, Ruby? What about you?’

  ‘I don’t have any option, Mr Newmarch. It’s ’workhouse otherwise.’

  He gave a gasp. He had no idea that things could be so bad. Did she mean it, or was she playing on his sympathy? A glance at her face told him that she wasn’t. She wasn’t doing this for sheer pleasure, as he was. He placed both his hands about her face and touched her cheekbones with his fingers. ‘I’d like to think you might want to come, Ruby,’ he whispered, and kissed her gently on her mouth.

  She drew away slightly and lowered her eyes for a second. She hadn’t expected kisses. Then she looked up at him. ‘Perhaps I might,’ she breathed.

  He smiled, satisfied now, and she thought that he was quite handsome and not so superior as he appeared to be at the mill.

  ‘One evening next week? I’ll pass you a note saying where and when.’ He was suddenly excited and buoyed up at the prospect. He would find somewhere discreet and more comfortable than this establishment. Some private room where they could feel relaxed, perhaps have a bottle of wine or a little supper and not be disturbed. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was so lovely. There was no wonder that he had thought about her so often.

  Again he ran his fingers around her cheeks and down her throat. He wanted to touch her all over, but he didn’t want to frighten her.

  ‘So – our secret, Ruby?’

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  After Ruby had gone with Jamie, Grace went home and sat on her new stool by the fireside with her chin in her hands. Her mother had gone to the Market Place to find cheap vegetables and bread; there were often bargains to be had on a Saturday night. Her father was reading, by the light of the fire, a newspaper which he had found discarded in the street.

  Could I do what Ruby is doing? Grace wondered, and knew instantly that she could not. She didn’t think any worse of Ruby for her decision – she understood her situation exactly and that she and her mother were destined for the workhouse if she didn’t take this opportunity. But she was angry with Jamie, who she felt was taking an unfair advantage in living off Ruby’s and his mother’s earnings.

  It was dark outside in the court. There were no lights down here. Only in the main street were there lamps lit by coal gas. She heard a noise outside the window. ‘Ma?’ she called. ‘Is that you?’

  ‘No.’ A male voice answered. ‘It’s Tom Hanson. Can I come in for a minute?’

  Grace glanced at her father, who nodded and put down his paper. ‘Yes. Just a minute.’ She went to the door and drew back the bolt. ‘Come in.’

  Daniel’s father looked as if he had been sleeping rough. His clothes were crumpled and his hair was tangled and in disarray. ‘I can’t find my wife.’

  ‘Can’t find her?’ Grace repeated. ‘Perhaps she’s gone shopping.’

  He shook his head. ‘No, she hasn’t. She went off yesterday morning after Daniel had gone and hasn’t been back since. And what’s more,’ he added glumly, ‘what bit o’ money we had left has gone with her. I’ve had not a bite to eat since yesterday.’

  ‘Well, we’ve nowt to spare,’ Grace’s father spoke up, his voice brisk. ‘Teks us all our time to earn a crust to keep body and soul together.’

  ‘I don’t know what to do.’ Tom Hanson didn’t appear to be listening. ‘I’ll have to go to ’vagrant office, see if they can help me out.’

  ‘You could try getting a job,’ Bob Sheppard said harshly. ‘Vagrant office won’t pay your rent.’

  ‘Well, that’s another thing,’ their neighbour replied. ‘Rent is due on Monday and I just haven’t got it.’ He stood staring into their fire and repeated, ‘I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Don’t know what to do about what? Oh!’ Lizzie Sheppard struggled in through the door carrying a sack of potatoes. ‘I didn’t realize it was you.
’

  ‘I’m just saying,’ Tom Hanson turned to her to tell his woeful tale, ‘my wife’s gone missing.’

  ‘Aye? Well, I’d have gone missing if I’d a husband who was work-shy,’ she wheezed as she dropped the sack.

  He gave a gasp and protested, ‘I’ve worked hard all my life, missus.’ He showed her his finger stumps. ‘But look at these.’

  ‘You’ve got another hand, haven’t you? You can do summat instead of sitting on your backside waiting for sympathy!’

  ‘You’re very outspoken, missus,’ he began.

  ‘I’m truthful,’ Lizzie interrupted and pointed a finger. ‘You and your wife have lost a good son because neither of you are willing to face facts. Your fingers are not going to grow back so you’ve just got to manage without ’em. And’, she continued, ‘your wife should try and find work. It’s not easy, I grant you that, but there’s work to be had if she looks.’

  Tom Hanson looked at her and then at Bob and Grace. His face flushed, but he said not a word and simply turned and went out of the door.

  ‘Ma!’ Grace began.

  ‘I know! I’m harsh. I didn’t show him ’milk of human kindness, but if he’d tried to get a job and wasn’t able to, I’d have shared a bowl o’ soup wi’ him. As it is, he hasn’t suffered yet, and nor has his wife. Besides,’ Lizzie sank onto the bed, ‘I’m that weary, onny compassion I’ve got right now is for me and mine. I could climb into bed and sleep for a fortnight.’

  ‘Lie down then, Ma.’ Grace sat down by her mother. ‘I’ll make you a cup of tea.’

  ‘Hot water, more like.’ Her mother sighed as she lay back and closed her eyes. ‘We’ve onny a scraping of leaves left.’

  ‘Where are these jobs that are to be had?’ Grace put the kettle onto the fire.

  ‘One of ’houses in ’High Street where I was washing yesterday. They want somebody to scrub floors. I’d do it but my back won’t let me.’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Grace said. ‘I told Mr Newmarch I’d be looking for other work.’