by Dilly Court
Throwing back his head and laughing, Ned pinched Tilly’s cheek. ‘Whatever next? I suppose they’ll have women lawyers and judges soon.’
‘If anyone could do it, I reckon Tilly could,’ Clem said, nodding in agreement.
‘I’ll see you very soon, Pops.’ Flinging her arms around Ned’s neck, Tilly gave him a hug. She stood by the cart watching as he went down the steps to his lighter, waving to her and puffing away on his cigarette.
‘Shall I take you back to your place of work?’
Turning with a start, Tilly met Clem’s questioning gaze with a shrug. ‘Ta, but I can walk.’
‘It’s no trouble. Neptune could do with the exercise and I reckon the old man will be a while yet.’
Thinking quickly, Tilly decided she had very little choice. The early morning sunshine had disappeared behind lumbering clouds that threatened rain; she would have to return to Blossom Court for one night at least, until she could find another job and somewhere more suitable to stay. ‘If you could drop me off at Ludgate Hill, that would be a help.’
‘Best hurry then,’ Clem said, swinging her up onto the seat. ‘Looks like rain.’
Sitting beside him as he guided Neptune through the busy dock traffic of drays, carts, cabs and wagons, Tilly realised, somewhat reluctantly, that there was more to Clem Tuffin than she had imagined. At first she had labelled him as an uncouth lout, just like his father and brother, but today she was seeing him in a different and more flattering light. Although he still wore the clothes of a labouring man – leather gaiters and a wide leather belt with a brass buckle, a neckerchief and a cloth cap – at least he looked as if he had taken the trouble to wash and his hair was clean, waving back off his forehead and curling behind his ears.
‘Penny for ’em?’
Clem had turned his head and was grinning at her. Realising that she had been staring, Tilly felt herself blushing. ‘I was just wondering why you wasn’t at work. I mean, I thought you and Abel worked nights on the river.’
‘Did is the word. Abel wants to carry on but I’ve had me fill of dragging corpses out of the water or ferrying drunken sailors back to their ships.’
Despite her loathing for the Tuffins, Tilly was curious. ‘So what are you going to do?’
‘I’m thinking of joining the army.’
‘You’re lucky. Being a man, I mean. You can do anything you want to do.’
Clem shot her a curious glance. ‘I thought you was one of them new women set on doing a man’s work.’
‘Why should women be stuck with the rotten jobs?’
‘Because it’s up to the man to earn the bread and look after his family. When I get wed I’m going to take care of my missis proper and see she don’t want for nothing.’
Shrugging her shoulders, Tilly couldn’t argue with his logic, but it didn’t mean she had to agree with him. ‘So you say, but it don’t always work out like that; I seen me mum working her fingers to the bone to help feed us kids. I don’t want that kind of life for meself.’
‘It sounds to me like you’re ashamed of your family now you’re a lady type-writer working for the nobs.’ Clem flicked the reins so that Neptune shambled into a tired trot.
‘Who asked you anyway?’ Realising that they were getting close to Blossom Court, Tilly grabbed Clem’s arm. ‘Stop here and let me get off. I can walk the rest of the way.’
‘It’s starting to rain,’ Clem said, glancing up at the lowering sky. ‘You’ll get soaked. It ain’t no trouble to see you to the door. Where do I go from here?’
Try as she might, Tilly could not persuade Clem to set her down until they reached Blossom Court, and as it had begun to rain heavily he insisted on driving the cart right up to the front entrance.
‘This is it. Stop here.’ Without waiting for him to help her, Tilly attempted to get down on her own, but Miss Dolly’s voluminous lace petticoat had got caught on a nail.
Reaching over, Clem unhooked the material. ‘Bleeding hell,’ he exclaimed, staring at the red light outside Jessie’s premises. ‘This is a flaming brothel.’
‘Don’t go running away with the wrong idea.’ Tilly stood in the rain, looking up at him, more than a bit annoyed by his outraged expression. Not that it was any business of his, but she didn’t want word of this getting back to Red Dragon Passage. ‘This is just temporary – me old lodgings caught on fire in the middle of last night and I had to find somewhere else to stay.’
‘And, of course, you come straight to a brothel in Ludgate Hill. That makes sense.’
‘Don’t try and get clever with me, Clem Tuffin. As a matter of fact Mr Barney brought me here, seeing as how Mrs Jameson is one of his clients and owes him a favour, so there.’
‘Just you get back on the cart,’ Clem said, scowling. ‘I ain’t leaving you here and I’d like to meet your Mr Barney face to face. I’d give him a piece of my mind, putting a young girl like you in a place like this. What would your dad say?’
Backing away, Tilly brushed the rainwater from her eyes, suddenly anxious. ‘I’ll be fine here, really I will, but you won’t tell Pops, will you?’
‘Come with me, Tilly.’ Clem’s expression softened. ‘Let me help you find respectable lodgings suitable for a young lady, not a whore.’
‘You got a blooming nerve, speaking to me like that. Get about your own business and leave me be.’ Running up the steps, Tilly tugged at the doorbell. ‘Go away, Clem. Get back to your old man. You’re the one in danger of getting your head bashed in, not me.’
Wilson opened the door, taking in the situation with a practised glance. ‘Is he bothering you, miss?’
‘He’s me brother,’ Tilly said, without stopping to think. ‘He thinks he can tell me what to do.’
‘Brothers!’ Wilson shook her fist at Clem. ‘You don’t have to tell me nothing about brothers. I got six of the buggers.’
‘I’m going, Tilly,’ Clem shouted, standing up in the well of the cart. ‘But I ain’t happy about this situation.’
Wilson shut the door on him. ‘Never mind him, miss, he’ll get over it.’ Opening a door off the hallway, she beckoned Tilly. ‘There’s a fire in the parlour. I’ll bring you a bowl of soup and some coffee. You look perished.’
While Wilson hurried off to the kitchen, Tilly went into the parlour and perched on a chair by the fire, warming her hands and feet. The room was not, as Tilly had imagined, decked with mirrors and oriental wall hangings, like the pictures of a seraglio that she had seen in one of Molly’s penny dreadfuls; it was furnished with good taste and with no expense spared when it came to comfort and elegance. Looking around, wide-eyed, Tilly thought that the Queen could not have better at Buckingham Palace. As the warmth crept back into her chilled body, Tilly tried to work out what to do next. It was obvious that she could not stay here for long, but her most pressing problem was to find employment and find it quickly. She looked up as the door opened. Instead of Wilson carrying a tray of food as she had expected, Tilly was startled to see a tall, beautiful young woman dressed in a blue silk gown that swished as she walked.
‘Hello. I didn’t know we had a new girl.’
Jumping to her feet, Tilly clasped her hands behind her back. ‘I – well, I’m not a new girl exactly. I’m just staying here for a bit.’
Undulating rather than walking, the vision in blue manoeuvred her elegant body onto a couch with a sigh. ‘Really, I don’t know what Jessie thinks she is about sometimes. You do know what sort of house this is, don’t you, Miss . . . er – what is your name, dear?’
‘Tilly True, miss. And I ain’t a simpleton. Jessie is letting me stay here because Mr Barney Palgrave asked her to.’
‘Of course, I should have known. If Barney asked her to stick her head in the fire, she would probably do it, especially now, with the police trying to close us down.’
Before Tilly could question the languid beauty any further, Wilson arrived with the tray. She stopped short and frowned. ‘I didn’t know you was up, Miss Florrie.’<
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‘Halfway up at least,’ Florrie said, with a lazy smile. ‘My whole life is spent only halfway up, Tilly. That’s the way the gentlemen prefer me. I daresay if one was to find me standing up, he would run a mile. I’m too tall, you see. Gentlemen don’t like a lady to tower above them.’
‘Well, that’s never likely to happen seeing as how you spend most of your life flat on your back,’ Wilson said, with an impatient toss of her head. ‘Anyway, I wasn’t told you had a client this afternoon, which is why I put Miss Tilly in here for a bite to eat. So what am I supposed to do then?’
‘Mind your tongue for one thing, Wilson. Remember your place too, you uppity servant.’ Florrie lay back against the velvet cushions and closed her almond-shaped eyes with a flutter of thick black eyelashes that lay on her cheeks in dark crescents. ‘And take the tray somewhere else, for heaven’s sake. The smell of onions might put the judge off his stroke, and with things as they are we’ve got to keep the old codger sweet.’
‘It’s a mystery,’ Wilson said in a loud aside to Tilly, ‘it’s a mystery why the old bloke asks for Frosty Florrie when there’s a whole stable of lively ones to choose from.’
‘I remind his of his dear wife,’ Florrie said, without opening her eyes. ‘Only I’m more available, so to speak. Apparently the good lady doesn’t do afternoons.’
‘There’s no accounting for taste.’ Shooing Tilly out of the parlour, Wilson closed the door with her foot. ‘Personally, I think she’s a stuck-up cow. Anyway, you follow me, miss. The girls have a snug at the back of the house which is a bit of a mess but quite cosy.’
The doorbell jangled just as Wilson opened a door at the far end of the passage. ‘That’ll be the old bloke,’ she said, thrusting the tray into Tilly’s hands. ‘Best not keep him waiting on the front step. We don’t want him dying of a heart attack before he’s paid for his pleasure.’
Entering the room, Tilly almost choked in a fog of cigarette smoke.
‘Hello, I heard we’d got a new girl.’ With a cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth, a buxom girl wearing nothing but her underwear, leapt to her feet holding out her hand to Tilly. ‘I’m Dolly. What’s your name, love?’
Putting the tray down, Tilly shook hands. ‘How do, Dolly? I’m Tilly. But you got it wrong – I ain’t working here.’
Sitting down again, Dolly took the cigarette from her mouth, flicking ash into an overflowing ashtray on the table. ‘So what are you then, ducks? A student in the university of life, studying us tarts?’
It was said without rancour and accompanied by a wide, gap-toothed grin and Tilly grinned back. ‘No, nothing like that. I needed a place to stay and Mr Barney . . .’
‘Oh, Barney. Say no more.’ Taking another cigarette from an open packet, Dolly lit it from the stub of the one she had just smoked. ‘Barney’s a love, ain’t he? Generous to a fault, too – that’s why he’s always broke. Well, that and his liking for flash duds and good wine.’
‘D’you mind if I eat me dinner? I’m starving.’
‘No, ducks. You go ahead and feed your face. You look the naturally skinny type to me; you’re lucky. I got to follow the Banting method, or else I blow up like one of them hot air balloons.’ Taking a long drag on her cigarette, Dolly exhaled a plume of smoke above Tilly’s head. ‘Smoking fags stops me from feeling hungry.’
With her mouth full of soup and bread, Tilly nodded.
‘One day, when I’ve saved enough money, or I’ve married a rich bloke to keep me in comfort, I’m going to eat cream cakes and chocolates until I get as big as a house.’ Watching Tilly enjoying her meal and smoking as if her life depended on it, Dolly waited until the soup bowl was empty. Leaning her elbows on the table, she stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray. ‘Now then, ducks. Tell Auntie Dolly all about it.’
‘I – I’m sorry?’
‘Come off it, Tilly. You can tell Dolly the truth. I can see as how you’re not up to this sort of thing and, by the way, that’s my dress you’re wearing.’
‘Wilson lent it me. I’ll give it back as soon as me clothes are dry.’
‘Keep it, love. I was sick of that frock anyway.’ With a casual wave of her hand, Dolly jumped to her feet and went over to a string of washing hung from the mantelshelf, feeling the toes of white cotton stockings to see if they were dry. ‘You got to watch some of the girls, though; light-fingered is what they are. Keep an eye on your duds or you’ll not see them again, especially stockings.’
‘No, really, you don’t understand. My lodging house caught fire last night; I only just escaped with me life. As soon as I find somewhere else to stay, I’ll be off.’
Hopping about on one foot, Dolly pulled on a stocking. ‘Course you will, love. And I daresay you’ll be looking for a job too.’
‘No – well, as a matter of fact, yes, just temporary. You see, I’m going to be a missionary lady, teaching in a school in India.’
Laughing until she cried and with one stocking still clasped in her hand, Dolly hopped over to Tilly and slapped her on the back. ‘You’re a comic turn and no mistake. That’s a good one, that is. Wait until I tell the girls.’
‘No, it’s the truth. I am going to India with my friend Harriet Palgrave and her brother the Reverend.’
‘Yes, love, of course you are.’ Sitting down to pull on the second stocking, Dolly paused, staring hard at Tilly. ‘Tell me honestly, Tilly. Have you ever – done it? D’you know what I mean?’
She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks and Tilly sipped her rapidly cooling coffee, avoiding Dolly’s curious stare.
‘I take that as a no then. I’ll say this for Jessie, she can spot a little treasure when she sees one. A virgin what wants to be a missionary. Gawd’s strewth, Tilly, they’ll be queuing up from Ludgate Hill to Marble Arch to be the first to shag you.’
Tilly opened her mouth to speak but the door opened and Jessie swept in, waving her hand in front of her face and scowling at Dolly. ‘Gawd above, Dolly, the engine room on the Woolwich Free Ferry smells better than this place. And what are you doing half dressed? Your three o’clock has been waiting for ten minutes. Get on upstairs.’
‘Keep your hair on,’ Dolly said, winking at Tilly as she shrugged on a lace wrap. ‘It’ll give the old codger time to get his engine going.’
‘She’s a one,’ Jessie said, as the door closed on Dolly. ‘But the gents like her, especially the older ones. She’s quite an artiste in her own way.’
Swallowing hard, Tilly got to her feet. ‘I really appreciate you giving me a bed last night, Miss Jessie. I think I’d best be on me way now.’
Hands on hips, Jessie angled her head. ‘And where will you go?’
‘I got friends.’
‘You’ll need them, ducks, with no job and no money. But, for Barney’s sake, I’ll keep the room for you. You can come back if your friends don’t come up good.’
Determined never to return to Blossom Court, Tilly made a bundle of her old clothes, tucked it under her arm, and set off for Bunbury Fields. Harriet would help her, she was certain of that, and hopefully they would soon be moving into the vicarage.
When she finally arrived at her destination, dusk was already cloaking Bunbury Fields and phantoms of mist hovered above the cemetery wall. The tips of Tilly’s fingers burned and tingled with the cold as she thumped on the brass doorknocker. She glanced up at the shabby façade, and was uncomfortably aware that there was no light filtering through the grimy windows of the Palgraves’ rooms. Eventually she heard footsteps plodding towards the door and it opened just a crack. Mrs Henge’s clay pipe appeared first, followed by the red tip of her nose and a wary eye.
‘Who is it?’
‘Miss True, I’ve come to see Miss Harriet and the Reverend Palgrave.’
‘Too late.’ Mrs Henge was about to slam the door but Tilly stuck her foot over the threshold.
‘I must see them.’
‘They’ve gone, moved out. No forwarding address. Bugger off.’
Chapter Eight
‘I thought you’d be back.’ Halfway down the staircase, Jessie stopped to give Tilly a searching look. ‘Your friends couldn’t help, then?’
Too weary to lie, Tilly shook her head. ‘They wasn’t there.’
‘Well, ducks, that’s friends for you. There one minute and gone the next, especially when you need them. There’s a fire in my sitting room. Go on up, and I’ll send Wilson with a tray of supper.’
‘Why are you being so kind to me?’
‘I ain’t kind, love,’ Jessie said, with a throaty chuckle. ‘But don’t worry your pretty head about it – we’ll work out a way for you to repay me.’
Tilly could hear her laughing all the way down the stairs. Dragging her feet, she went up to the sitting room and huddled by the fire. Now she had time to think it over, she realised that she had gone about things in entirely the wrong manner. What she should have done was to go straight to Hay Yard; she had known that Harriet and the Reverend would soon be moving house and the one person who would know their address was Barney. Of course, that was it: tomorrow morning first thing, before any of Jessie’s girls were up, she would go to Hay Yard and demand to see Barney. After all, he had got her into this mess. She would take great pleasure in giving him a piece of her mind.
After delivering a tray of food and some good advice, namely that there were worse ways of earning a living than working for Miss Jessie, Wilson left Tilly to enjoy her supper. Unconvinced, Tilly tucked into the plate of roast lamb, mint sauce, roast potatoes and finely chopped cabbage laced with butter and caraway seeds doused with lashings of gravy. No one could accuse Jessie of starving her girls or being mean with the housekeeping. With junket to follow and crisp little biscuits that melted on her tongue, Tilly had never eaten such a delicious meal, but she couldn’t help wondering if she was the Christmas goose being fattened up for the kill.
