Oliver Twist Investigates

by G. M. Best

  ‘All our meals are communal. Dinner is at one and tea at six. After tea the girls are allowed a half-hour in the garden if the weather permits. Three times a fortnight a local clergyman joins us in the evenings and provides additional religious instruction. He’s a good man because there are some clergy who will have nothing to do with this place. How they square that with following our Lord and Master I do not know! Every evening we hold evening prayers half an hour before bedtime at nine. They say temptation does not knock on the door, it leans on the doorbell, and so we have to be constantly vigilant. For that reason no one has a room to herself and we place those we can trust most as the bedmates of those we can trust least. Nobody makes her own bed so they cannot contemplate hiding things and all cupboards in the house are kept locked and the keys are never left lying about. We even keep the garden gate locked at night, so they cannot just wander out.’

  ‘It sounds rather prison-like to me, Betsy,’ I interrupted. ‘Why should these poor unfortunates change their way of life if they are given no opportunity to show their better qualities?’

  ‘Oh, but they are, Master Oliver. We know reducing temptation is not enough to change lives. Hence we also seek to reward good behaviour. Marks are given for truthfulness, industry, good temper, punctuality, cleanliness, propriety of conduct and conversation, and a sedate and patient manner. A girl can earn up to thirty-six good marks a day and each girl is promised she will receive when she leaves six shillings and sixpence for every thousand marks she has earned. Any girl behaving badly in any of the categories can expect to lose forty marks, but it is encouragement rather than threats that are the key to our successes. If we see a girl wavering, we remind her how much she has changed and what great hopes we have for her. We beg her not to throw away her chance of transforming her life for the better. We also encourage mutual support and care for those outside the community. For example, any leftovers from our meals are made into soup for the sick and the poor.

  ‘Our Lord can give the strength required to change one’s life. I know that from personal experience, Master Oliver. Without the presence of Jesus in my heart, I do not believe my life would be as it now is. Prayer is a constant and necessary feature of our life here and our prayers do not go unanswered.

  The average stay required to give a girl the ability to start her life afresh is about a year, although a few have remained longer because they were slower to learn their reading. We then arrange for three or four at a time to go to America or Australia so that they can make a completely new start away from any of their former connections, which might draw them back into their previous lives. Each girl is given a letter of recommendation and placed under the charge of a respectable family of emigrants as a nurse or servant. We try to keep in touch with them and some take the trouble to write and let us know how they are getting on. Here, let me show you a recent letter.’

  We re-entered her room and Betsy fumbled through some papers that lay on her desk. She passed on to me a carefully folded note, saying I was welcome to keep it because she had already replied to it. It was written in a rough but perfectly readable hand. As I read its contents, she sat upright in her seat, hands clasped in her lap, and I sensed she was judging me by my response to its humble contents. She need not have worried – I was moved by its simplicity and heartfelt gratitude. I still have the original in my possession and I treasure its plain honesty far more than the most beautifully phrased passage of any novel by Dickens or Trollope. This is what the letter said and I make no apology for its lack of grammar, inaccurate punctuation and faulty spelling:

  My Honnoured Lady,

  I have taken the liberty of writing to you again to let you know how I am going on since I last wrote Home – for you did indeed giv a home to one who had none. I cannot describe my feelings when I received your most kind letter, I first read my letter then I cried but it was with tears of joy. You will be plesed to no that my new Husband is very kind to me and we live very happy and comfortable together we have a nice garden where we grow all we want we have sown some peas and turnips and I helped to do some we have three such nice fat pigs and we killed one last week he was so fat that he could not see out of his eyes he used to have to sit down to eat. My two little birds are gone – one dide and the other flew away but I have got such a sweet cat. My Husband was going out one day and heard her crying and he fetched her in she was so thin. He tells that if we do well then one day he mite take me back to see you if we live so long, but I think he is only making game of me. My Honnoured Lady I can never feel grateful enough for you kindness to me and wot you did for me at my happy Home, I often wish I could come and see you again once more and all my kind friends which I hope I may one day please God.

  Betsy watched me as I read its simple message of gratitude, and then said, ‘Keep it, Master Oliver, and let it remind you of what this place achieves, because its writer had a terrible history when she came to us at the age of sixteen. She had got herself into trouble for making a disturbance at the workhouse gate when refused relief. She had been a professed tramp for six or seven years, knew of no relation, and had had no friends but one old woman, whose very name she appeared to be uncertain about. She was dressed only in rags, had no shoes for her feet, and had seldom slept in a bed. She told us her father, a scaffold builder, had “lost” her on London Bridge when she was nine or ten years old. I suspect he probably purposely abandoned her, although she refused to believe that. Not that she was naïve. Far from it. She was old beyond her years because poverty and starvation had forced her to grant the most despicable sexual favours to the dross of the London streets.

  ‘If you regard any of the work I do with favour, then please remember that I am simply repaying some of the kindness shown to me by Nancy. You have to seize what friendship you can find and that’s exactly what Nancy and me did. I still think of her each day and wish she could be here to help my girls and me. Believe me, she helped me as much as she assisted you. I know Mr Dickens has a most unfortunate view of her character and he may not have been very kind in what he told you about her. However, I would like her to be remembered for her many virtues and not her few vices. You know she was far from perfect, especially if she had had too much to drink, and I know Nancy committed many sins in her life. But I do not wish to be the one to throw any stone against her, because I know she was also much sinned against. As indeed was I in my youth. The world is not a fair place, Master Oliver, as you yourself know.’

  I indicated my assent and urged her to now tell me what she could about herself and Nancy. Sensing that I would brook no further delay, Betsy acknowledged that the time had come for her to tell me the little she knew. It turned out to be more than I was expecting.

  7

  BETSY’S STORY

  ‘My own story is not an edifying one but let me begin with it because, Master Oliver, I sense that you do not view me as unworthy. Recounting my past shame may help you discover more about Nancy and why she meant so much to so many of us. I came up from the countryside when I was still a girl, not above fifteen, in order to live with an elderly aunt of mine. My mother had died in giving birth to me and my father had tired of having me. He was a farmer near Bath, but only in a small way. I was very pleased to be in London, and liked sneaking out of my aunt’s house when I had the opportunity of doing so unnoticed.

  ‘One night I met a handsome-looking man who chatted with me in a flattering way. I, like the innocent I was, answered him unsuspectingly, and he asked me if I had long been in London. Not thinking, I told him all about myself. He went away saying he was very glad to have made my acquaintance. He told me if I would say nothing about our meeting to my aunt, he would see me about the same time the next night and take me out for the evening. I was entirely taken in by his good looks and the next evening, I am ashamed to say, I met him as he appointed, and two or three times thereafter.

  ‘One night we walked further than usual until I pressed him to return, fearing my aunt would find us out. However, he
said he was not feeling well and he asked me to stay with him just a little longer. He wanted me to wait while he took a short rest in a nearby house, which belonged to an old woman who was a friend of his. He reassured me that, if I were concerned about further delay, he would put me in a cab. Worried about him, for I did not know what had caused his illness, I agreed to accompany him. We found the door to his friend’s house half-open when we arrived at the house. We entered and walked into a well-lit room, full of gaudily dressed and brazenly painted young women. My friend greeted an old grey-haired lady who was talking to several of them. She told me they were her daughters. This made my gentleman laugh and she fiercely ordered them out of the room.

  ‘I didn’t like the feel of the place, and I asked to be sent home. My gentleman friend said he would order a cab but I must have a drink while I waited for its arrival. I foolishly assented. No sooner had I drunk some wine than I felt very sleepy, so sleepy that they advised me to rest a little and promised to send a messenger to my aunt to allay any anxiety she might have at my failure to return home. Of course, Master Oliver, I had been drugged. In my semiconscious state I was systematically raped, not only by the man who had so basely deceived me, but also by his associates, who came to join in his fun. Eventually I passed out and did not wake till the next morning.

  ‘I was horrified by the extent of my ruin. It was even worse when I discovered from the old grey-haired woman that the man responsible had seen my deflowering as a cure for his suspected venereal disease. For some days I was inconsolable, and cried like a child to be killed or sent back to my aunt. The woman made me sign papers that I could not read. She told me the papers placed me entirely in her power and I must do as I was told. You can imagine the rest. Each night she sent different men to my bed. I never knew how much or how little each customer had paid, only what acts were expected of me and for how long. If I resisted, I was beaten. My whore-keeper’s one act of self-interested compassion was to provide me with a witches’ brew of alum and sulphate of zinc with which to wash away what otherwise might lead to pregnancy.

  ‘This life of slavery went on for some months before I managed to escape. By then I knew that my aunt would have nothing to do with me. I would be soiled beyond redemption in her eyes. And so I escaped one tyranny for another. The rat-infested streets became my home and I was more susceptible to assault there than I had been in the whorehouse. I slept on doorsteps and tried to earn a living by collecting old bones and dog turds for a tannery, but soon I was so reduced by hunger that I allowed myself to be used again by whoever would have me. Some tricked me, taking their pleasure without payment. If I obtained the money to go into a cheap lodging it made little difference to my safety. We lay all packed together on a full night, a dozen boys and girls squeezed into one bed, some at the foot and some at the top, and, in the hot stifling atmosphere, sometimes entirely naked. Most of us got half-drunk if we could afford it. If we didn’t, the bed was wasted because the bugs and the bad air prevented us from sleeping properly. I won’t go into particulars, but whatever could take place in acts between boys and girls usually did. We knew no better.

  ‘It was Nancy who came to my rescue. She found me curled up in a heap outside a wretched tumbledown hovel in a stinking alleyway, which swarmed with untended infants. She took me back to her brothel. Although Fagin was a miserly pimp, Nancy knew he would at least provide me with a proper roof over my head, some more acceptable clothing and decent meals to eat. It seems strange now but I was so grateful to him for taking me in. I gave myself to whatever men he directed as if I was serving my saviour. It used to amuse Nancy. Her view of Fagin was rightly far more critical. She knew he never acted out of genuine kindness to anyone and, as far as he was concerned, I was just one more way of adding to his income. In contrast to him, although she could be a devil when she chose, Nancy was prone to moments of pure philanthropy, offering help to those in need even when she had little herself. I loved her, Master Oliver, because she was what I had long lacked. She was my first genuine friend.’

  Betsy could not help shedding a tear as she recalled this and I stretched out my hands to hers, grasping them to acknowledge I understood her feelings. She took a few moments to compose herself and then resumed.

  ‘We frequently drank ourselves stupid because in that way we could forget at least for a time what our life was like in the black, stinking, shelterless alleys in which we plied our trade. Sometimes the gin led Nancy to speak about her past and gradually I learnt her history. It was just as unfortunate as mine, but her troubles had begun at a far earlier age. Nancy grew up in one of this city’s many slum districts. I know it well and a stinking permanent fog overhangs the entire neighbourhood. Most of the men who live there, if not professional criminals, are of that dangerous class which exists between pauper and convict. Most of the women carry on some miserable domestic craft for little reward. Some weave cages and baskets from cane. Some make matchboxes, clothes pegs, flypapers, and the like. Others take in stitchwork or washing or engage in selling the pelts of strayed and stolen cats. Untended infants relieve themselves on stairs and passageways, whilst their older brothers and sisters go out to scavenge and pilfer what they can from the streets. Some of the prematurely old children attend the twice-weekly hiring mart where they can offer themselves to unsavory employers. Some of the better-off families supplement their income by keeping pigs and cows, feeding them on the refuse that clutters the streets, but this adds to the unhealthy environment because often the animals are tubercular.

  ‘Growing up in such an environment, Nancy learnt the hard way that seizing opportunities and having no scruples was the key to survival. From childhood she was taught to walk the streets, regardless of the weather or temperature, begging and picking up anything she thought might be edible or saleable. Sometimes she was given a roll of matches with strict instructions not to return home until she had sold them. If she tried to return before the task was fulfilled, she was severely beaten. For a time she was also taken into the workhouse but only faced fresh cruelties there.

  ‘Then suddenly she experienced a different world. A church mission rescued her at the age of six or seven from the hellhole that was her life. They taught her to read and write and to look to Jesus. Unfortunately for her, they then handed her over to be maidservant to an elderly couple. It was not long before, like many a servant girl, she found her employer began demanding sexual gratification from her. One day he repeatedly hit her with his cane when she resisted. She threatened to inform his wife and he threw her out on the street.

  ‘She was still just ten years old, Master Oliver. Like mine, her lifestyle became one of sleeping where she could, eating whatever she could get, and surviving either by begging, stealing, or selling her body. It was one of Fagin’s lads who saw that she had potential beyond the average whore and took her to The Three Cripples, where she was easily persuaded to join the gang.

  ‘At first Fagin used her talents primarily to earn money for him as a prostitute, but, like all his workers, he trained her in the finer arts of stealing. She quickly understood that the more energy she devoted to stealing the less she had to sell herself. She became adept at hiding in her clothes the property stolen by the boys and thus masking their crimes. She was not averse to luring small well-clothed children into some deserted alleyway where they could be skinned of their boots and clothes. Sometimes she would pick up some tipsy man and take him to a secluded spot where some of Fagin’s lads were waiting to rob him. Shoplifting seemed to come naturally to her. But if thieving was more congenial and more rewarding, it did not prevent Fagin demanding she use her body when it suited his needs. Many a servant has given away his master’s secrets in Nancy’s arms and thus opened the door to a piece of profitable housebreaking. It was, of course, through this trade that she eventually met Bill Sikes.

  ‘I never understood what she saw in him. You know what he was like, with his scowling eyes, thunderous brows, and frequently unshaven face. Even when he was sober,
his temper was foul, but, with the drink in him, he was often like the devil himself. Many the time I’ve seen him pulverize another man’s face with his fists for some imagined slight. His so-called friends feared him more than they liked him, but they respected his housebreaking abilities. When sober, Bill was a formidable thief, quick to assess the weakness of a property and quicker still to sniff out where its most valuable contents lay hidden. Fagin loathed him but valued his services too much to do without them. Normally Bill preferred doing his business with Fagin when no one was around because he was paranoiac about being squealed upon. As a consequence his first meeting with Nancy was a much-delayed one, considering she had been in the Jew’s service since she was a child. But once their paths crossed he was as passionately drawn to her as she was to him.

  ‘For the first time Bill had found a woman who was prepared to stand up to him. Although he was quick to beat her for any opposition she expressed, he secretly admired it. And Nancy was intensely loyal to Bill. She said that she had let him fill the place that had been a blank through all her wretched life. Fagin’s talk of her betraying him would have appeared nonsense to all of us who knew her, but for her behaviour over you. Bill may have been a brute but he was not a stupid man. Even he could sense that your arrival powerfully changed Nancy and that her relationship with you was even more significant to her than her love for him. Hence his animosity towards you. Normally Fagin’s lads were below his gaze and beneath his interest. He started to beat her in a way that was cruelly vindictive and which all of us resented, except her. She appeared to recognize that the cause of his brutality was his jealousy and that his jealousy spoke of his deep love for her. And Nancy, you have to remember, had never been loved by a man. Only used by many men. For a whore to know she is genuinely loved is a rare experience. I never heard her complain of the way he hit her and she, poor soul, would always endeavour to hide the bruises as best she could.