Daughters of Liverpool

by Kate Eastham

  Putting the baby back down for a moment, Alice removed her outer layer of clothing and then she went to the sink for a cloth soaked in cool water and tried to sponge her down. But this made her writhe even more and then she started to whimper. Alice couldn’t bear to see her daughter lying there in distress; she had to pick her up again.

  Sitting down by the stove, Alice tried to feed Victoria again, but she seemed irritable and her nose was snuffly, and she was scrunching her face and drawing up her knees, not wanting to feed at all. And then she started to cry. Alice rocked her and stood up with her, walking up and down the full length of the kitchen, but the cries escalated to a miserable, high-pitched wail that went through Alice’s body and made her chest feel tight.

  ‘There, there,’ said Marie, rubbing the baby’s back, but still she screamed. Her crying had taken over the whole room.

  Alice sat back down with her, in tears herself. She tried to put her to the breast again, and this time she did take a little. But within seconds, she was pulling away and drawing up her knees again. To Alice, it seemed like her baby’s whole body was burning with heat now. And she wasn’t sure, but she thought she could see the beginnings of a fine red rash across her face.

  At that, Alice’s fear intensified. Her mouth was dry, her heart pounding. She’d grown up in a house where infants had died; every family she knew had lost a child. She had been named after a sister, another Alice, who had died before she was born. What if Victoria was starting with diphtheria or measles or scarlet fever?

  Marie was right by her, leaning over the baby. ‘What’s up with her?’

  ‘I don’t know, but she seems really poorly,’ sobbed Alice. And then Victoria was wailing again.

  Marie laid a hand on the baby’s forehead. ‘Yes, she does seem hot all right, and it looks like she’s got the gripes. But it might be something and nothing … Give her to me for a bit, Alice, let’s see if we can cool her down.’

  Marie took Victoria gently from Alice’s arms and within seconds both mother and baby were starting to calm down.

  ‘There there, you little scallywag,’ whispered Marie. ‘Who’s my favourite girl, then? What are you doing to your poor mother, hey?’

  As Alice looked on, Marie rocked the baby, her whispered words soothing them both.

  ‘She seems to be easier with you, Marie,’ said Alice quietly.

  ‘It’s always the way,’ said Marie. ‘I used to get so worked up when my Stella had a fever, I’d be in a terrible state. But my mother could always manage her.’

  But then Victoria was pulling her knees up again and starting to scream. ‘What is it?’ soothed Marie. ‘You have got the belly ache this afternoon, haven’t you, little one? Let’s try a few drops of brandy on a teaspoon. Can you get the bottle out of the cupboard for me, Alice?’

  Alice was straight there, uncorking the bottle as she took it out of the cupboard and then pulling a spoon out of the drawer. In between gripes Alice managed to get a few drops into the baby’s mouth. She pulled a face and coughed a bit and then opened her eyes wide. And for a few seconds she was quiet.

  Just as Alice started to breathe a sigh of relief, Victoria pulled up her knees again and gave another almighty scream. Alice felt the sound like a sharp pain going right through her heart. She knew that she needed to do something, anything, to try and ease her baby’s suffering.

  ‘Right, that’s it,’ she said firmly, ‘I need to go to the apothecary for a remedy.’

  ‘I’ll ask one of the girls …’ said Marie, but Alice was already grabbing her shawl.

  ‘I know the way and I can tell them exactly what’s wrong with her …’

  ‘No,’ Marie tried to say, but Alice was already gone.

  Outside the front door, Alice glanced up and down the alley before descending the step and walking briskly away, towards Lime Street. Out there, away from the warmth and the safety of the kitchen, she felt exposed, and if it hadn’t been for the worry about Victoria burning inside of her she would definitely have turned tail and run back to the house. But her baby was sick, she had no choice, she had to go. She glimpsed a movement out of the corner of her eye, a shadow against the wall, and drew in a sharp breath, ready to run back to the safety of the house.

  But then Hugo sidled out of the shadow and made his way towards her with his white-tipped tail flicking from side to side. Alice could have cried with relief, so glad was she to see that cat.

  ‘Hugo,’ she breathed, pausing for just a moment to give him a quick stroke before making her way out towards Lime Street. When she glanced back, the cat was still trotting after her. ‘Shoo, shoo,’ she said, waving a hand at him.

  Alice was just a few steps out of the alley when she saw the cat shoot past her. In the split second that she was wondering what had spooked him, a thickset policeman in plain clothes and another with a pockmarked face grabbed her.

  ‘Let go of me!’ she shouted. ‘I’m going to get medicine for my sick baby, let go!’

  ‘We’ve heard all sorts from you women,’ laughed the man with the pockmarked face as they dragged her towards a carriage.

  ‘No, no!’ she screamed, fighting like a tiger, but they held her fast, their hands digging into her.

  ‘I have a baby,’ she begged. ‘Please, please, let me go.’

  ‘That’s what they all say. Get in there,’ shouted the thickset one as he dragged her into the carriage. Then the other man pushed her in from behind and the door was closed. Alice thought she heard the sound of heavy boots running towards the carriage and a man’s voice shouting; it sounded like someone who might be able to help.

  But then they were moving, and apart from what sounded like a heavy fist thumping on the side of the carriage and the sound of a muffled voice, there was no rescue for Alice. She felt crippled with despair. Her whole body screamed out for her child. She slumped in her seat, sobbing, tears streaming down her face, as the men sat silent. She had no way of knowing what direction they were taking, but she was certain they would be going to the police station.

  It felt like for ever that she was in that carriage, first raging at the men who looked at her with stony faces, then trying to calm herself down and think of a way out. She needed to get away – she was terrified about what might happen to Victoria if she couldn’t get back there with medicine.

  Dragged out when they reached their destination, she was hardly able to stand, but although she made a valiant attempt to wrench herself free, the men had her held fast. She could see the door of the police station and dug her heels into the ground: she would not go willingly into that place.

  ‘Let go of me, let go of me!’ she shouted, still trying to wriggle free as they manhandled her in through the door. But there was no relief from the vice-like grip of the men as they brought her through a packed room and towards a man in uniform who sat behind a wooden counter.

  They waited in line behind a poor soul with bare feet and tattered clothes, and Alice stood still and gave the impression that her struggle was over, hoping that this would make them release their grip and she could dive out and run for it. But it made no difference, she was still held fast and fighting off the feeling of absolute despair that was starting to creep over her.

  They were at the counter now.

  ‘This is another one we picked up in the vicinity of a known brothel, an alley near Lime Street Station,’ announced one of Alice’s captors, digging his fingers into her upper arm.

  The policeman behind the counter nodded before leaning forward in his seat. ‘Name?’ he said, his pen poised between thick fingers, lined to the knuckle with black hair.

  Alice shook her head, determined not to give any information about herself. ‘I have done nothing wrong, I am a mother who needs medicine for her baby,’ she protested.

  ‘What you need is not our concern,’ said the man. ‘Name?’

  ‘I have done nothing wrong.’

  The man sighed theatrically, then he leant across the counter, bringing his face s
o close to Alice’s that she could smell a tinge of onion on his sour breath. ‘You were arrested in the vicinity of a known brothel, in an area frequented by common prostitutes,’ he hissed. ‘We weren’t born yesterday, young lady.’

  Alice could feel a fine spray of spittle on her face as he spoke, but she did not flinch; she had to keep calm. ‘It is also an area near the railway station frequented by many other people, going about their daily business,’ she countered.

  The policeman scowled at her. ‘Yes, but those people have not been seen soliciting outside a brothel.’

  Something snapped inside Alice. ‘I was doing no such thing. I work as a maid in a house down that alley, I have a child!’ she screamed, writhing again now with all her strength, trying to break free from the men who held her.

  ‘You no doubt have a child outside of marriage – that’s what you have, a bastard child.’

  Alice growled with rage. She would have grabbed him by the throat if her hands were free.

  ‘Take her away,’ said the man behind the counter, leaning back away from her and waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. ‘Send her with the next lot up to the Lock Hospital.’

  ‘No!’ Alice screamed. ‘I have to get back, I have to be with my baby.’

  But the man’s attention had already moved to the next person in line and Alice was being dragged, screaming, through another door to a large room crammed with women. The men pushed her in and she fell, cracking both knees hard on the stone floor. Then she heard the turning of a key in the lock and her heart broke in two.

  She crumpled into a heap on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, unable to think what to do next, aware of the pain in her knees and her breasts, as milk started leaking from her and soaking into the fabric of her dress.

  ‘Alice?’ said a woman’s voice, a familiar voice.

  Alice looked up instantly. ‘Lizzie,’ she said with all the strength that she could muster, a rush of energy going right through her body when she saw dear Lizzie standing above her. Just seeing a familiar face gave Alice enough strength to scramble up from the floor. And then she felt Lizzie’s arms around her and she started to sob again.

  ‘Where’s the baby?’ asked Lizzie gently.

  ‘She’s sick, she’s with Marie,’ wailed Alice. ‘I was going for medicine …’

  ‘Oh Alice, I’m so sorry,’ said Lizzie, holding her tight, trying to soothe her – but how can you soothe a mother who has been wrenched away from her sick child? It cannot be done.

  ‘We’ll get you out of here,’ said Lizzie. ‘We’ll find a way … and Marie will look after the baby while you’re away. You know that, Alice, don’t you? She’s an expert when it comes to babies, she’ll make sure that Victoria is safe.’

  Alice tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come out properly.

  ‘Those bastards, though, taking you off the street when you need to get help for your child. You’re not even dressed right for a woman of my profession!’ Lizzie exclaimed, holding Alice even tighter, holding her together. ‘We’ll get you out of here,’ she said. ‘Even if I have to provide free services for all these bastard men myself.’

  When the door opened again for another woman to be admitted, Lizzie was straight there, saying her piece. ‘That woman there,’ she said, pointing at Alice, ‘she’s not one of my kind. She’s a housemaid and she has a sick baby at home …’

  ‘Quiet, you,’ said the policeman, his face red.

  Lizzie stood in front of him, her slim frame looking tiny in front of his bulk. She stood her ground, with her hands on her hips and her fluffy white-blond hair sticking out from her head. Alice felt an ache in her heart, she was so proud of her.

  The policeman made to leave the room but Lizzie grabbed his arm. He easily threw her off with a grunt of disapproval, and Alice jumped forward to catch her as she staggered, off balance.

  ‘I won’t give up, Alice,’ she insisted. ‘I’ll get you out of here and back to your baby, even if it’s the last thing I do.’

  ‘Please be careful, Lizzie,’ said Alice. ‘I don’t want you getting hurt.’ But she knew that Lizzie was all that she had, and maybe together they could find some way to escape. Alice needed to hold on to this hope, keep her mind focused on some kind of plan. There was no other way that she could manage the agony of not knowing how Victoria was; for all she knew her baby could be dangerously ill by now. She had to believe that she would be all right, and that there was a way of getting out of this place. Looking down to see the dark circles of milk on the front of her gown, she prayed that it would be soon.

  The next time a policeman opened the door, Lizzie tried to speak up again and this time Alice stood by her side, ready to say her own piece if it was required. But there was no chance; there were more police coming into the room and they began to herd the women out in one group.

  ‘Now, Alice,’ whispered Lizzie. ‘We’re going to be taken to the Lock Hospital. This might be our chance for you to break free. I’ll try to distract them when I see the right opportunity, and you run for it.’

  However, the women were surrounded by policemen, as if they were the most hardened of criminals, and there was no chance to escape as they were marched towards a large vehicle with bars on the windows.

  Alice sat on the floor of the carriage, feeling the motion of it as it swayed over the rough streets of Liverpool. She couldn’t believe that she’d ended up here, in this situation, completely helpless. As she sat, she started to feel the rage seethe within her. She needed to make a physical effort to contain it, knowing that if she wanted to stand a chance of escape, she couldn’t draw attention to herself. She needed to stay quiet and appear compliant.

  The carriage stopped abruptly after what seemed like a long time, but Alice had no real idea. Her mind and body were completely taken over by one single purpose: breaking free and returning to her child. The door of the carriage opened and a man’s arm reached in to drag the nearest woman on to the street.

  ‘Out, you lot,’ he shouted.

  Alice waited as long as she could, breathing deeply, readying herself to push through, to run down the street. But as soon as she poked her head out of the door she saw the number of men waiting and she knew she’d have to bide her time. She gulped in some air as she stood in the street, glad to feel the stone flags beneath her feet. Grabbing hold of Lizzie’s hand, she steadied herself and looked around. This was familiar territory for her, since the Lock Hospital was right next to the Infirmary. If only someone she knew was walking by, someone who could vouch for her. But there was no one and the women were still surrounded by police. With her head bowed Alice had no choice but to make her way into the hospital.

  She held back deliberately as soon as they were in through the door, frantically looking around, hoping to see a familiar face. She held on till the last, with Lizzie by her side, but with dull inevitability she was forced to go with the rest into a large room that felt like a holding pen.

  ‘Right, ladies,’ shouted a man’s voice, ‘we will be taking you in for examination by the doctor, one at a time.’

  Alice heard a murmur of disapproval ripple through the group and then she felt someone grab her arm. ‘You first,’ said the orderly, starting to drag her out of the door.

  ‘No, you don’t,’ snapped Lizzie, sharp as a flash and pushing herself between Alice and the orderly. ‘She’s with me.’

  ‘Step back,’ said a policeman, appearing behind the orderly. ‘Step back or it’ll be a long, long time before you see the light of day again.’

  ‘It’s all right, Lizzie,’ said Alice, putting her free arm around her friend and giving her a reassuring squeeze.

  ‘Come on, you,’ said the orderly, pulling her away, leaving Lizzie standing with her head bowed.

  As she was marched along the corridor, Alice looked around, hoping that this might be the chance she was looking for, that maybe she would see someone who could help her.

  ‘Sit there,’ said the orderly as he directed her in
to a small room, indicating the one chair against the wall. As she sat, Alice saw a high, flat couch. Next to the couch was a table and on there, Alice saw an array of metal instruments laid out on a cloth: forceps, a scalpel and a shiny speculum. She knew instantly what the instruments were for and a wave of nausea swept up from her stomach, burning acid in her mouth.

  She knew that she had to stay calm and she had to present well to whoever was going to attend her. She took a deep breath, straightened her skirt and tidied the strands of hair that had come loose in her struggle for freedom. Then she sat upright in the chair, trying to look as respectable as she could, wanting to give the right impression, all the while, holding back the anger and despair that she could feel bubbling beneath a thin layer of decorum.

  Within minutes, a nurse with a bunch of keys hanging from a leather belt at her waist stood in front of her. ‘What is your name?’ she said.

  Alice felt unable to speak, as if all the words had dried up inside her. All she could do was stare at the bunch of keys on the nurse’s belt, as a feeling of dread crept over every inch of her skin.

  ‘Name?’ said the woman again, this time more firmly.

  Alice looked up to the nurse, straight in the eye. ‘My name is Alice Sampson and I work as a housemaid in the city. Previously, I worked as a nurse on the wards of the hospital just next door.’

  ‘Ha, ha,’ laughed the nurse, ‘I’ve never heard that one before … working at the Liverpool Royal!’

  ‘It is absolutely true,’ responded Alice, keeping her voice steady. ‘I don’t know if you are familiar with any of the staff there, but I worked with Sister Law on Male Surgical and Sister Cleary—’

  ‘Never heard of ’em, never worked in there,’ snapped the nurse, cutting her short.

  ‘Well, do you know the assistant superintendent—’

  ‘Enough,’ shouted the nurse. ‘Making up these stories will not help your case. In fact, it will reflect even more badly on your moral character. Do you want to be branded a liar as well as a prostitute?’