A Mother's Trust

by Dilly Court

  Phoebe looked from one to the other. She was fond of Dolly, but Teddy must come first. ‘What do you say to that, Dolly? Would you like to stay with Judy?’

  Dolly brightened visibly. ‘Yes, please.’

  That settled, Phoebe knew that she must tell Caspar at the end of the evening performance. She had put it off repeatedly, but when the time came she waited until after the final curtain when everyone filed off the stage. The tumblers had invited everyone to go to the pub for a farewell drink, but Caspar had refused in his usual curt manner. He went straight to his dressing room and closed the door. Phoebe followed him. Standing outside she took a deep breath, knocked and went in.

  He had taken off his velvet, star-spangled robe and was hanging it over the back of a chair. His vivid stage makeup was at odds with the white silk evening shirt which he had unbuttoned almost to his waist. ‘Yes?’ His tone was cold and his eyes disturbingly blank.

  Phoebe clasped her hands tightly behind her back. ‘I’m leaving for London tomorrow.’ She tried to sound positive but she was suddenly nervous. ‘I’m sorry, Caspar. I can’t work with you any more.’

  ‘Why not? Is there someone else? Have you had a better offer?’ He took a step towards her, his eyes glittering dangerously. ‘Who is he?’

  ‘No. You don’t understand. My family – I …’

  ‘You’re not leaving me.’ It was a statement of fact rather than a question, and before she had a chance to move away he seized her in his arms. ‘You won’t get away from me so easily.’ With one savage swipe of his hand he ripped her sequined costume, burying his face between her breasts. His mouth was hot on her flesh, his teeth grazed her nipples, and before she had a chance to scream for help he pinned her against the door, covering her lips with brutal kisses. ‘You’ll never leave me,’ he whispered. ‘You belong to me alone. I’ll never let you go.’ His hands raked her flesh as he tore away the remaining gaudy trappings of a magician’s assistant. She struggled frantically but he silenced her cries with his tongue, half suffocating her with the weight of his body against hers. She kicked out with her feet but this only seemed to excite him more. His strength seemed like that of a madman intent on satisfying his lust. In desperation she bit his lip, drawing blood. Uttering an oath he clamped his hand to the afflicted part of his face and Phoebe opened her mouth to scream, but even before the sound escaped her lips there was a loud knocking on the door.

  ‘Are you coming to the pub, old man?’ Herbert’s voice rang out loud and clear, echoing round the dressing room.

  An angel’s chorus could not have sounded sweeter to Phoebe’s ears. ‘Herbert, save me.’ She gave Caspar a hefty shove, catching him momentarily off guard, and she kicked him on the shin, causing him to stagger backwards. She wrenched the door open and fell into Herbert’s arms.

  ‘My God, Phoebe. What has he done to you?’ He lifted her off her feet and set her down in the narrow corridor. At that moment, Caspar emerged from the room, glowering at him as if he were about to commit murder. ‘Marcus,’ Herbert roared. ‘Come here. You’re needed.’

  ‘What is it, Poppa?’ Rose came running towards them. She stopped, staring at Phoebe in horror. ‘My God, Phoebe. What happened to you? Are you hurt?’

  ‘Take her to her dressing room, Rose.’ Herbert gave Phoebe a gentle push into his daughter’s arms. ‘We’ll deal with this.’ He glanced over his shoulder as Marcus approached them with a worried look on his face.

  Clutching her torn costume to cover her naked breasts, Phoebe allowed Rose to lead her to the dressing room where she collapsed onto a wooden chair in front of the dressing table. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and found herself staring at a face covered in a mask of smudged greasepaint, both hers and Caspar’s. Her neck and breasts were striped black and silver, with smudges of red from his lips. She shuddered and turned away, reaching for a towel. ‘Fetch me some water, please,’ she whispered. ‘I want to wash this away.’ Her hands shook as she scrubbed at her flesh as if trying to scrape away all trace of what had just occurred.

  ‘Yes, of course. I’ll be back in a jiffy.’ Rose whisked out of the room, returning a few minutes later with a jug of hot water and a piece of soap. She smiled grimly as she lathered the sponge. ‘This is his fine soap. Only the best for Caspar, the old devil. He didn’t hurt you, did he, Phoebe? I can’t believe he would lay a finger on you for all his arrogance and ill temper.’

  ‘I’m not hurt.’ Phoebe took the sponge from her and scrubbed her face and neck until all traces of makeup were gone. ‘He frightened me, Rose. He kissed me and I really think he would have raped me if your pa hadn’t turned up in the nick of time.’

  Rose shuddered. ‘To think that I fancied him once.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have agreed to work with him. I was stupid.’

  ‘No, I won’t have that, Phoebe. He’s a bad man who preys on women.’

  ‘It’s just as well I’d planned to leave tomorrow.’ Phoebe scrubbed at her lips with the cloth. ‘I never want to see him again, ever.’

  ‘I don’t want you to go away, but you’ll be safe from him in London. It’s a big place and he’ll never find you there.’

  ‘I don’t want anybody to tell him where I’m going. He said he’d never let me go, Rose. He acted like a madman.’

  Rose handed her a towel. ‘You’ll be gone first thing in the morning, and I’ve heard that he’s going to Bournemouth later in the day. He must have assumed that you would go with him. You’ve had a lucky escape, if you ask me.’

  The house in Saffron Hill smelt of mouse droppings and stale garlic with just a hint of the lavender and beeswax polish that Nonna lavished on the furniture and floorboards. It had been a tiring journey after an emotional parting from Judy, Dolly and the rest of the lodgers, whom Phoebe had come to look upon as family rather than just friends. Most upsetting of all was leaving Rose and they had been in tears as they promised lifelong friendship.

  As Phoebe went round opening windows even though it was cold and rainy outside, she could not help comparing the dilapidated house, jostling for position amongst even less well kept buildings in a street that had never seen better days, with Judy’s establishment. Its spacious, if old-fashioned rooms were admittedly on the shabby side, but the seafront location made up for what the house lacked in splendour. She knew she would miss the fresh salt air and the rhythmic sound of the waves on the pebbles which had lulled her to sleep at night. Outside in Saffron Hill she could hear the rumble of cartwheels and the clatter of horses’ hooves muffled by the mud and detritus that littered the cobblestones. The raucous cries of pedlars, street sellers were almost drowned out by the loud guffaws and shouts of drunks coming from the pub on the corner. The high-pitched voices of the ragged urchins begging for coppers or screeching in pain as the bigger boys walloped those smaller and weaker than themselves were even harder to bear. Teddy would not be allowed to run riot like them, she thought as she attempted to get a fire going in the range. She glanced over her shoulder at Ivy, who was huddled in a chair with Teddy clasped in her arms as though she was afraid to put him down in this alien environment.

  ‘Is this the first time you’ve been to London, Ivy?’ Phoebe sat back on her haunches to wait for the kindling to splutter into flames.

  ‘Yes’m.’ Ivy’s eyes were round and her sallow face pale. ‘I think I want to go home.’

  ‘And so you shall,’ Phoebe said, thinking fast. She must humour Ivy as she could not hope to find another wet nurse at such short notice and Teddy seemed to be doing well in her care. ‘As soon as my brother is able to take cow’s milk I’ll put you on the first train to Brighton with your fare paid, and money in your purse. Is that a bargain?’

  ‘I suppose so, ma’am.’ Ivy glanced round the kitchen as if expecting cutthroats to be lurking in each dark corner. ‘This is a big house for just us.’

  ‘My family will return from Italy in less than a month,’ Phoebe said, working the bellows energetically. ‘It’s really quite c
ramped when we’re all here together.’ She smiled to herself at the thought of seeing her grandparents again. She was even looking forward to seeing her volatile uncles after months of separation. She wondered if they would bring wives home with them this time. Nonno was always telling them that it was high time they married and continued the Giamatti line. She rose to her feet, satisfied that there would soon be a good blaze, and she picked up the soot-blackened kettle. ‘Come outside with me, Ivy. I’ll show you where to find the pump and the privy. You’ll need both while you’re staying here.’ She led the way out through the scullery and into the back yard.

  Ivy looked up at the high walls of the surrounding buildings and she wrinkled her nose. ‘It smells something terrible here.’

  ‘You’ll get used to it.’ Phoebe took Teddy from her, placing the kettle in Ivy’s hand. ‘There, I’m sure you know how to work a pump. You’ll feel better about things when you’ve had a nice hot cup of tea and something to eat. Judy packed some food for us, so we’ll be fine until tomorrow when I’ll take you to the market and show you where to get the best bargains.’

  ‘I don’t ever have to go out on me own, do I? I’m scared of this horrible place.’ Ivy pumped the handle too hard, spilling water over her shoes. ‘Oh Gawd, now I’m all wet. I can’t be doing with this. It’s like trying to piss into a thimble. At home we had a well and a bucket.’

  ‘It just takes a bit of practice,’ Phoebe said, trying hard to be patient. She forced her lips into a smile. ‘Never mind, you’ll soon dry out by the fire. There should be enough water in the kettle now. Let’s go inside.’

  Ivy cast an anxious glance around the yard filled with barrels, buckets, a zinc bath and Nonno’s handcart in which he collected the ice. She shuddered. ‘I bet London rats are as big as dogs.’

  ‘Not quite.’ Phoebe shooed her indoors, wondering silently how she was going to cope with a simple country woman who was scared of her own shadow and patently terrified by everything in the city. She shivered as a cold wind whipped between the buildings and she covered Teddy with her shawl as she hurried into the comparative warmth of the house. Even more pressing was the problem she held in her arms. She adored Teddy, but how she was going to present him to her family was a constant worry. Time was running out and she would have to think of something.

  Chapter Twelve

  IN THE DAYS that followed Phoebe began to regret bringing Ivy to London. She was too afraid to go out to market on her own and had to sleep in the same room as Phoebe at night, fearing that she would be murdered in her bed if she slept alone. Ivy had a fit of hysteria when Phoebe told her that she planned to hold a séance, and when she attempted to explain the proceedings to her, Ivy ran away and hid in the broom cupboard for several hours until hunger won and she crept into the kitchen as if expecting to see a ghost. It was fortunate perhaps that Phoebe had not found any would-be clients in their first couple of weeks, but the money was running low and one morning, having left Ivy to look after the baby, she set off for the market with her basket over her arm. She had food to purchase but she hoped that she might meet some of her mother’s regular patrons.

  She bought vegetables in Farringdon market as well as flour and eggs, deciding that she would attempt to make pasta as she had seen Nonna do on countless occasions. It was cheap and nourishing and she hoped that it was easy. She was busy choosing apples when she was suddenly aware of someone standing very close to her. She looked up into the blue-green eyes of Rogue Paxman. He doffed his hat, smiling. ‘Miss Giamatti. This is a pleasant surprise.’

  She recovered quickly. He must not suspect that she had anything to hide. ‘I might say the same, Mr Paxman. This is the last place I would expect to see you.’

  He picked up an apple and bit into it. It was an oddly youthful and unselfconscious action that belied the hint of arrogance in his stance. She turned away as if intent on selecting the best fruit, and she willed him to move on before he started asking questions. If he mentioned her mother she was afraid she would burst into tears. She had put a brave face on her loss but inwardly her feelings were raw, and she was still in the first painful stage of grief.

  ‘I often come to market,’ he said, tossing a coin to the stallholder. ‘I’ll take a pound of apples, but serve the young lady first.’

  ‘You’re very polite all of a sudden.’ Phoebe cast him a sideways glance, her curiosity aroused. ‘And I can’t believe that you’re here just to buy apples. That’s not what you do.’

  He angled his head. ‘And what do you think it is that I do to occupy my time, apart of course from the criminal activities that men like me carry out under cover of darkness.’

  ‘That’ll be tuppence ha’penny, miss.’ The stallholder held out his hand.

  She had very little money left but the cabbage, potatoes and carrots would make a nourishing soup even though she could not afford a beef bone to enhance the flavour. She put the apples back on the pile.

  ‘Allow me.’ Paxman scooped the fruit onto the scales and paid for them. Then, much to her embarrassment, he placed them in her basket.

  ‘No, really. I can’t accept.’ She tried to give them back but he shook his head.

  ‘Take them as a small gift for Annie then. We haven’t seen her around for months, so we thought you must both have gone to Italy with the family. I’m sure my brother misses her company.’

  Shaking her head she hurried off, and fighting back tears she pushed through the crowd of women at the entrance to the market. She had only gone a few paces along Stonecutter Street when Paxman caught up with her. ‘What did I say to upset you? It wasn’t my intention to make you cry.’

  ‘I’m not crying,’ she muttered, dashing away the tears with her hand. ‘I had something in my eye.’

  He drew her to a halt. ‘My brother is genuinely fond of Annie. He was quite put out when she disappeared without a word.’

  She bowed her head, unable to speak. Paxman took her by the arm and guided her across the street to a coffee house frequented by the market traders. The interior was dark and steamy, with a strong smell of roasted coffee beans mingling with tobacco smoke. The occasional fall of burning soot sizzled as it hit the live coals in the fire basket, sending out a shower of sparks like a miniature firework display. The small-paned windows were veiled in condensation and the booths were packed with men drinking tea and coffee, their voices a constant hum accompanied by the clink of spoons as they stirred sugar into their beverages. Paxman approached a table close to the fireplace. A man dressed in a green-tinged black suit with leather patches at the elbows and a stiff white collar was already seated at the table, but at the sight of Rogue Paxman hovering over him, he drained his cup and scrambled to his feet. ‘Just going, sir.’ He made a grab for his bowler hat and rammed it on his head, nodding to Phoebe as he headed for the street door.

  ‘Take a seat, Miss Giamatti.’ Coming from Paxman’s lips it was more of an order than an invitation. Phoebe sank down on the wooden settle and fumbled in her reticule in search of the hanky that Judy had given her for Christmas, which was identical to the ones she had presented to Dolly, Madame and Gussie. Phoebe blew her nose and wiped her eyes as she struggled to regain an outward show of composure, but when she looked up Paxman had gone and she was alone at the table. She could see him at the counter, talking to the serving girl. She weighed up her chances of escaping, but decided against such an action as it would only arouse his curiosity further. By the time he returned with the coffee she had worked out how much of the truth she would tell him.

  He set a cup in front of her and took a seat opposite. ‘Now perhaps you would like to tell me what’s wrong.’

  ‘Nothing,’ she said stoutly. ‘At least nothing that concerns you, Mr Paxman.’

  ‘I think we know each other well enough to dispense with the formalities, Phoebe. My name is Roger, as you know, although Rogue will do as I told you once before.’

  ‘My mother died of lung disease in Brighton.’ The words came out in a rush
and she had the grim satisfaction of seeing him flinch.

  His smile faded. ‘I’m sorry. I liked Annie, and my brother will take it quite badly. Whatever you’ve heard of us, Phoebe, we are not the villains some people make us out to be.’

  ‘You’re not clergymen either.’ She met his intense gaze steadily. ‘I know your reputation, Rogue. You offer protection from the high mob to shopkeepers and small businesses for a fee that most of them can ill afford. You make money out of other people’s misfortune.’

  ‘Not at all. We keep the peace. We protect those who are loyal to us and give no quarter to our enemies. Is that so wrong?’

  She shrugged her shoulders. ‘The police think it is.’

  He acknowledged this barb with a reluctant smile. ‘We have inside knowledge that they don’t possess. You could say we’re doing a public service.’

  She sipped the coffee. It was the best she had tasted since Nonna left London. ‘Why are you bothering with me? What I do can be of no interest to you.’

  ‘Tell me why you and your mother fled to Brighton. One day you were here; the next you’d gone. Ned came looking for Annie and found the house locked and shuttered.’

  This was the time to give him just enough of the truth to keep him satisfied. ‘My mother thought she’d killed Snape. She was foolish enough to go to his rooms and he tried to seduce her. She hit him over the head and she ran away. We were afraid that the police would come after her so we went to our cousin in Brighton.’

  Paxman threw back his head and laughed. ‘It would take more than a little scrap like Annie to finish off a bastard like Snape. I can assure you that he’s alive and still as annoying as ever. That man has a skin as thick as an elephant’s.’

  ‘It’s not funny,’ Phoebe whispered as she realised that people were staring at them. ‘He could have set the police on her.’

  ‘So she escaped from the clutches of the law. Don’t you think that puts you both on the same side as us miscreants?’