SOF

by Unknown

  Lily gently pulled her arm away.

  "I'm sorry – I'm as poor as you are."

  The girl's expressionless face seemed to lighten in the foggy night.

  "God bless you then."

  Finally, Lily came upon the enormous facade of the cathedral,

  looming up in the fog like a sanctuary. No one could possibly harm

  her in the house of God, could they? Least of all her captor who

  believed in such a stern unyielding deity. The huge oak doors were

  open and she tiptoed inside, afraid that such an unkempt creature

  might be swept out like the detritus of the day. Tall candles burned

  around the altar and a deep sense of peace entered Lily's mind.

  Can I find a quiet corner to hide until the morning?

  Like a ghost, Lily moved softly from pillar to pillar, trying to stay

  concealed from the church wardens. She was not convinced the

  guardians of God's house were as merciful as He. Beyond the

  glittering altar lay the entrance to the great crypt with the huge black

  tomb of Lord Nelson. It felt warmer in there, oddly enough. Lily

  slipped through the doorway and descended the stairs. Behind her, in

  the main part of the cathedral, the organ began to boom out. Soon the

  congregation would arrive for Evensong.

  At last I can rest.

  Lily realized that she was exhausted. Trembling violently, she

  moved towards a dark corner of the crypt and sank down onto the

  stone floor with relief. The air was still and surprisingly comfortable.

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  She loosened the unpleasant shawl and closed her eyes. Above her,

  on the cathedral floor, the organ played, familiar but to Lily,

  nameless, hymns and psalms. It was a powerful, majestic sound,

  seeming to make the entire vast edifice vibrate in tune.

  What was that?

  Somewhere within the music there was another much quieter

  sound. Lily's eyes snapped open. Someone was descending the stairs

  into the crypt.

  Oh, no! Please, no!

  The soft light from a gas mantle illuminated his dreadful face. It

  was Poole. He stood before Lord Nelson's tomb as if admiring the

  huge black sarcophagus. Lily shrank back against the wall, drawing

  herself into the deepest shadow. Poole walked slowly around the

  crypt, pausing to read the epitaphs of the great and good. He was

  coming closer to her hiding place and there was no way out if she did

  not make a run for it.

  I have to run – and now.

  Stealthily, Lily rose to a crouching position. Poole was very near,

  his bulky form casting another shadow over her terrified body.

  Desperately, Lily threw herself out of her corner and raced across the

  crypt. She was aware of Poole's harsh breathing behind her as she

  flew up the stairs and into the main part of the cathedral. Still, there

  was no one visible. The organ played on, creating a wall of sound that

  effectively drowned out her cries.

  Where can I go?

  Poole's gauntleted hands grasped for her through the crypt doorway

  and Lily ran down the aisle, screaming for help. She had to find

  someone – a church warden, a clergyman, anyone. Running out into

  the night would mean certain capture – or worse. A second doorway

  opened off the aisle, revealing an ascending staircase. Helplessly,

  Lily began to run up another flight of stone steps, these were shallow

  and worn by the footfall of centuries. Around and around the

  staircase curled like a corkscrew, until Lily was quite dizzy. Up and

  up she ran, her heart pounding with terror and exertion. All around

  the dark stone walls pressed. There was nothing but steps and walls

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  and an ever upward progression. Was Poole following her? She

  could hear nothing but her own ragged, gasping breath and the patter

  of her bare feet on smooth stone. Eventually, a door opened onto a

  gallery, set beneath the great dome of St. Paul's. If she ran in there,

  Poole could corner her. The sound of the organ seemed to push the

  air upwards like a great locomotive. It rang in Lily's ears as she

  glanced up at the ornate dome then down at the cathedral nave below.

  People were beginning to enter the cathedral. Like insects, they

  trickled in to fill the pews. Lily screamed at the top of her lungs.

  "Help me! Murder! Help me!"

  Did anyone hear? Shuffling footsteps approached up the spiraling

  staircase. There was no escape but to keep climbing. The staircase

  was becoming narrower, the steps steeper. On and on, round and

  round... It seemed as if Poole was gaining ground, his heavy

  breathing never far behind.

  "Help me!"

  Lily cried out as she ran up the stairs, hardly caring if anyone could

  hear her or not. How many steps were there? It seemed like

  hundreds. When would it end? The stone steps became wrought iron

  and Lily realized that she had climbed to the very top of the cathedral.

  Now, Poole was visible, relentlessly clambering after her, his mask-

  like face contorted with anger and lust.

  "You can't escape, little missy! There's only one way down. Ha!

  Two ways, if you jump."

  Moaning in fear, Lily reached the top of the iron stairs. Beyond a

  narrow doorway, the night sky was visible. She stepped outside onto

  a stone gallery and looked down at the bank of fog that covered

  London like a blanket. Behind and beneath her, there were now two

  voices, Poole's mocking tones and another, more distant, a man's

  voice, calling out. In utter desperation she screamed one last time,

  sending piercing shrieks echoing down through the stairwell.

  "Murder! Help me! Please!"

  Poole stepped out onto the gallery and Lily shrank back against the

  tall stone barrier that enclosed the viewpoint.

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  "Nowhere to hide now, little miss. What a bother you've caused.

  No wonder the master wants to slit your pretty throat."

  Lily sank to her knees, unable to fight back any longer. The filthy

  shawl slid to the damp stone floor and she watched Poole's boot kick

  it away.

  "No more," she whispered.

  At that moment, there was a terrific commotion. It seemed that

  something large flew out of the stairwell and launched itself at Poole

  like a rabid dog. For the third time in as many days, Lily slipped into

  unconsciousness, her last memory of a frenzied fight between her

  captor and someone who swore and struck out with a fearsome punch.

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  CHAPTER XXI

  HAPPILY EVER AFTER

  "Oh my poor lamb! I must get you some calves foot jelly to restore

  your strength."

  Lily lay in Sophie's bed with the buxom blonde ministering to her

  as tenderly as the most devoted nurse.

  "Oh, I'll be all right, my darling. I always am, you know, whatever

  life decides to throw at me."

  Sophie smiled and leaned over to kiss Lily softly on the mouth.

  Lily breathed in her perfume and relaxed, at peace.

  "I don't know what would have happened if Mr. James here hadn't

  turned up when he did. It really doesn't bear thinking about."

  Joe James coughed modestly.

  "It was nothing, my dear. But you w
ere lucky I heard your cries.

  When I reached the top of that spire and found out that the dreadful

  screaming was you I got quite a jolt, I don't mind telling you.

  Anyway, all's well that ends well."

  "Except for Poole, when you punched his lights out."

  "Yes, well, he got all he deserved and more. The streets will be

  safer when that blackguard and his diabolical master are strung up on

  the gallows."

  Lily shuddered and Sophie stroked her cheek soothingly.

  "I'm so glad Essex was so boring that I decided to come home

  early! The thought of you returning to an empty house in that

  condition."

  Joe James cleared his throat.

  "Oh, don't you worry on that account, Miss Sophie. Mrs. James

  would've taken good care of our girl here."

  Lily smiled.

  "And so would dear Rosina."

  Joe's face darkened and he looked unhappy.

  "Rosina is no longer living at home. My wife discovered a letter

  with Rosina's belongings. A love note, to be precise, written by a

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  person who previously caused a great deal of distress to us. We

  confronted our daughter with the note and she became most upset."

  Lily smiled.

  "Lawrence Faulkner."

  Joe frowned.

  "You were involved in Rosina's elopement?"

  "Elopement? Good heavens, no! But, Mr. James, they love each

  other so dearly..."

  Joe sighed wearily.

  "I believe you are right, my dear, but the man has no future thanks

  to his family. I don't know what they're living on. Acorns and carp

  out of the canal, as far as I can see."

  Lily glanced up at Sophie.

  "They'll be all right. They will take care of each other. Oh, do give

  them your blessing, Mr. James! If anyone deserves it, it's Rosina and

  Lawrence."

  Joe shrugged.

  "It's not just me, it's Mrs. James. She can be a stubborn woman."

  Sophie rose from her chair beside the bed and crossed the room to

  stand before Joe. His gaze automatically moved to her lavish breasts

  and she held out her hands to him in an expansive gesture.

  "Why, Mr. James, I do believe we owe you an enormous favor.

  How can we possibly repay what you have done for us?"

  Joe's eyes remained fixed upon Sophie's magnificent décolletage as

  he swallowed hard and mumbled something about it being no trouble

  at all.

  "I was just there, at Evensong. A bit of luck, that's all."

  Sophie smiled knowingly.

  "Ah yes, Mr. James. You were at Evensong with Miss Dorrington,

  weren't you? Dear Miss Dorrington. I know her quite well. We have

  a mutual friend by the name of Freddie Bathurst."

  Joe James colored slightly.

  "Never heard of the man. Anyway, it was just a bit of luck that I

  happened to be there..."

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  "And now," cooed Sophie, pressing her vast melon-like bust almost

  but not quite into Joe's open hands, "we must find a way to repay you.

  Dora Dorrington won't tell Mrs. James a thing, don't you worry about

  that, Mr. J. Not if you give Rosina and Lawrence your blessing like

  the nice kind generous gentleman you are."

  Joe James spluttered.

  "That's blackmail, Miss Sophie! I ought to turn you over my

  knees."

  Sophie giggled and looked coy.

  "Oh, would you, Mr. James? Would you really? I'd simply adore

  that!"

  * * * *

  Lily lay in Sophie's arms, her head blissfully nestled between the

  blonde's wonderful breasts.

  "What a lovely day it has been, my darling."

  Sophie laughed, sending delicious quivers through her cleavage and

  Lily.

  "Your hair is tickling me! Yes, wasn't it divine to see Rosina and

  Lawrence marry with the blessing of her old man?"

  Lily thought of the simple service at the church of St. John in

  Clerkenwell, far from the opulence of St. Paul's. Rosina had simply

  glowed with joy in her plain blue dress with a bouquet of violets. And

  Lawrence had looked most distinguished.

  "His family may be cutting him off without a penny but his friends

  will see him right, won't they? Freddie Bathurst plans to commission

  life-sized oil paintings of all the Snake Pit girls for starters. Word will

  spread and–"

  "He'll be a portrait painter of a very special kind. Charlie's going to

  get him to do one of me in the altogether for his country estate. He

  says he'll tell the missus it's Aphrodite Unveiled."

  Lily pressed her lips against the smooth silky flesh of Sophie's

  cleavage.

  "Oh, my dear. I've been such a slave of fortune, haven't I? Please

  tell me my luck has changed for good."

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  Sophie wrapped her arms about Lily and whispered softly in her

  ear.

  "Oh yes, my angel. It has. I promise you it has..."

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