by Carol Rivers
‘Do you really think they danced in a circus?’
’Shouldn’t be surprised.’
‘Gino wore a tattoo of his circus elephant. I thought it very – interesting.’ She blushed as Terence raised an eyebrow.
‘Well now, you know those ladies did more than dancing?’ Terence looked abashed.
Ettie nodded. ‘Gwen told me they enjoyed men’s company.’
‘Mine included,’ the butcher admitted. ‘I paid for Gwen’s services. Wasn’t a hot cup of tea I was after. No, oh no! Truth is, I miss my old Gladys. She passed away five years back. Was a good ‘un too. Helped me in the shop. Had a good eye for the cleaver. Strong as an ox, till the flu got her. Matter of days it was. Nothing I could do about it, neither.’ His eyes grew moist and his voice was husky. ‘Gwen filled a gap. Made me feel like I was special, see, like Glad did. Clever that. Clever. Kept me dangling, so’s my hand was always in my wallet. So ducks, you wasn’t the only one. Fact is, I’m four decades older than you and should have known better.’
‘I’m sorry your wife died.’ Ettie felt a great sympathy for this lonely, hard-looking man who had such a soft inside.
‘You don’t think the less of me?’
‘Why should I?’ Ettie replied softly. ‘We’ve both lost people we love.’
‘You miss them kids from the orphanage, don’t you?’
Ettie nodded. ‘The nuns and the children were my family.’
‘Well, here’s an idea for you. Listen to old Terence. A baby is to come your way. I’ll wager a year’s profits you’ll be nurse and nanny to the tobacconist’s child afore long.’
Ettie had been so deep in her misery that what Terence proposed came as a shock.
‘Do you really think so?’
‘There’s a nursery to be got ready, ain’t there? Toys and such like. Babies’ whatnots. Mittens for its fingers and shoe-sies for its little toe-sies.’
Ettie laughed. Terence always brought a smile to her face.
He frowned. ‘Your good mistress won’t keep it in a drawer, will she?’
‘A baby sleeps in a crib.’
‘A crib, yes, that’s good! We’ll find one.’
‘And he or she will want a shawl.’
‘Them things you wrap ‘em in?’
Ettie laughed again. ’I can knit one.’
‘Perfect m’dear. Perfect!’
‘But where shall I find the wool?’
Terence patted her hand. ‘As your good employer writes, m’dear, God is benevolent,’ Terence said gently. ’Now I must get back to my business. Them dead rabbits won’t jump in my customers’ baskets.’ He stood up and patted his round belly under his mucky apron. ‘Thank you kindly for the tea and cake. There’s a nice bit of liver in the newspaper, there. Fry it up with a potato or two. Last you a few days, m’dear.’
‘Thank you, Terence.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ he chuckled. ‘Now chin up, girl. And think of the baby!’
Chapter 25
It was April and even the few sparse trees in Silver Street had begun to bud. But Ettie rarely strolled under them. Her priority was to make up for the lost week and invest in new stock. Therefore, she opened for business at seven each morning except on Sunday and closed at seven in the evenings. The gentlemen from the city approved, for now they didn’t have to rush from their clubs and could dally a little longer with their friends. The young working men would call on their way to their offices and sometimes afterwards, too.
By the end of the month, Ettie had repaid four pounds of the outstanding debt. With the help of Mrs Buckle, all the blue cloths had been replaced at minimal cost. Fortunately, trade was so brisk that she was able to meet the next order from Tobacco Dock on time. But this didn’t ease the guilt that still remained with her daily. She was filled with foreboding at the prospect of making a confession to Lucas. Might he forgive her when the full story was told? Would Clara think she was to be trusted enough to help with the baby?
These were the worries that Ettie tried to put to one side. At Sunday Mass she would pray to her mother for assistance. To Saint Jude that he might restore Lucas’s good favour and understanding. To the Blessed Virgin, to safeguard Clara and her child. And to the crucified Christ to forgive her for the sin she had committed in drinking the green fairy.
At night, she would dream once again of the great catastrophe of December. She would hear Lily’s harsh voice, and see the torn velvet cloths and empty till drawer. Sometimes Lucas would appear. His kind face and gentle eyes would be full of rebuke. His silence hurt far deeper than any spoken word. And Clara – Clara! She was absent from Ettie’s dreams. Ettie would wake, sweating and disturbed, feeling as though Clara had shunned her, refusing to allow her even one small glimpse of her newly born child.
It was on an early May morning, when an elegant horse-drawn brougham arrived outside. The damson-red carriage was decorated with shiny gold trimmings. The driver, clad in uniform, flat peaked cap and highly polished leather boots, jumped down and assisted his passenger out.
To Ettie’s surprise, the young woman made her way into the salon, leaving the driver to stand outside.
‘Good day,’ she said, smiling at Ettie. For all Ettie’s endeavours to increase the business, she had not expected the arrival of a female customer. And, one so young and lovely at that!
Lucas had told her the stores of the West End were sometimes favoured by wealthy women, in search of tobaccos for their fathers, brothers or husbands. But for a lady on her own to visit a Soho establishment was not generally advised. Though Lucas, somewhat biased, had insisted the day would come when Benjamin & Son. Salon of Quality Tobaccos would be a lady’s preferred tobacconist.
The young woman was pretty with bouncy fair curls that peeped out of her bonnet. Her large green eyes were spaced widely in her oval face and a silk bow was tied discreetly beneath her chin. The pale grey gown she wore flattered her slender curves. She carefully removed each finger of her gloves and leaned forward to inspect the contents of the glass cabinet.
‘I’m looking for a gift,’ she explained, ‘for my twin brother who is seventeen next week.’ She looked under her long lashes and whispered coyly, ‘I caught him smoking against Mama’s wishes. And thought I might tease him a little.’
Ettie roused herself sharply. ‘I think I can help you,’ she said at once and turned to the shelves behind her. She drew out three boxes and set them on the counter removing the lid of the first. ‘These fine cigarettes are made by the Carreras factory of Mornington Crescent – an established and trusted manufacturer.’
‘They look rather plain,’ decided her customer.
Ettie lifted the lid of the second box. ‘These are the purest of Cuban cigars found in stores like Robert Lewis of St James’s Street.’ A powerful odour drifted from the box and the young woman wrinkled her nose.
‘Quite interesting.’
Ettie moved to the third box. Slowly she revealed its contents. Two miniature snuff boxes with mother-of-pearl inlay and six pristine pipes lay on a bed of smooth raffia, their highly ornate bowls overshadowing their slim stems. Set in the centre, were a pair of miniature pipes, toy-like in their appearance.
‘The snuffs are popular,’ Ettie explained. ‘But so are the pipes. Being small, they can be discreetly hidden in a lady’s bag or man’s pocket.’
The young woman gasped. ‘Ingenious! Mama would definitely disapprove.’
Ettie lifted a dainty pipe, its bowl embellished with a briar rose and thorns. ‘And only seven shillings and sixpence halfpenny.’
‘Why, the cost of a parasol!’
‘The pipe is unrepeatable,’ Ettie replied quietly. ‘A parasol may be bought in dozens.’
The girl laughed. ‘Well said. Here, let’s see if the pipe will fit in my purse.’ She opened her dainty bag. Ettie placed it inside.
‘Perfect,’ said the girl, but then glanced at the snuffs. ‘But I am undecided.’
Ettie smiled. ‘Both are excellent choices.’
Ettie thought how spirited this young woman was. Not at all afraid of breaking convention or offending a parent. But then, she reflected, to have so much wealth when young, must give a kind of confidence.
When she had her two parcels the customer paid and left with a gracious, ‘Goodbye. Perhaps, on another jaunt to Soho, I may look you up for a miniature snuff.’
Ettie followed her to the door and peeped out. To her surprise her customer paused on the cobbles and handed her driver the packages, gazing up at him with an expression of mischief. Words must have been exchanged and they seemed very close.
Ettie was fascinated. It was almost as if he was about to take her in his arms but stopped at the last moment. Instead, she raised her gloved hand to his shoulder, her eyes interlocked with his, in silent message. Playfully, she tilted his flat cap and knocked it to the ground, giggling as she skipped to the carriage.
The driver brushed back his thick, ruffled dark hair and bent to retrieve his cap. Then checked to ensure his mistress was safe inside the carriage.
For the first time, Ettie was given full view of his face.
The world seemed to thunder in her ears. Everything stood still. She felt her throat tighten and wondered if she could breathe again. A rush of heat swamped her. She blinked hard – and harder still. Her eyelids seemed to be the only part of her body able to move.
Unaware of her gaze, he leapt up to the high seat and snatched the reins.
Ettie’s fingertips pressed against the glass. A cry left her lips. Was there time to attract his attention?
But the carriage moved forward, its two large rear wheels spinning up the Soho dust in a gritty cloud. Ettie was left with a fleeting memory of a damson-red brougham that might have belonged to aristocracy. But most memorable of all, its beautiful passenger whose departing presence made Silver Street seem more desolate than it ever had before.
She stood still, her heart racing. Could she be mistaken? But no, her eyes had not deceived her. The driver was still the same Michael as she remembered him. Taller perhaps and broader. But he was still her handsome Michael who had once made a vow in Victoria Park that she was his girl.
Chapter 26
That evening, Ettie sat alone in the big, empty house. She hadn’t stopped thinking about the young woman who had visited the salon. Or her driver who had waited outside as she purchased her tobacco and pipe. Michael had only been a few feet away …
There had been an intimacy between the two young people, an understanding that belied their stations of mistress and servant. They had stood close enough to almost touch one another; their gaze connected. The playful movement of her fingers had made him smile as she knocked his cap to the ground.
Had I known it was Michael, would I have had the courage to go outside and greet him? Ettie wondered.
But the more Ettie thought about this, the clearer the answer became. There was an affection between the girl and Michael. One so obvious that it hurt Ettie deeply to see. She knew the feeling inside her must be jealousy. A fierce emotion that pushed everything else from her mind; the wrench at leaving the orphanage, Gwen and Lily’s deception, the theft of Lucas’s money and even the admission of her neglect when Lucas and Clara came home.
All of her woes seemed insignificant now. Around and around in her head went the image of Michael and the girl. He had looked so handsome in his uniform. A life of crime had certainly not entrapped him. What were his feelings for his wealthy young mistress who had teased him so playfully?
Her feelings for Michael, Ettie realized, were more than friendship. Jealousy hurt so much. Was it love? She had prayed that one day she would see him again. Then today she had. But now he was a new Michael; someone she didn’t know.
Ettie went to the salon and lit a candle. She took it to the counter and sat on the stool beside Rose. Here in the flickering glow, she poured out her heart.
‘What would he have said to me if we’d spoken?’ she asked, peering up at the portrait. ‘Would he even have remembered me? I thought we’d be together in the end. He told me I was his girl. But now I know I’m not.’
Ettie tried not to be miserable. The good Lord had answered all her prayers. Michael had prospered and left his wild ways behind him. Lucas’s business was all in good order; his recent letter had expressed his delight at Ettie’s own news. Clara’s good health and happiness had returned since Dr Ruegg had told her the baby would be born at the sanatoria in August. The result – a long-awaited child that would unite Lucas and Clara forever. And for herself, Ettie thought selfishly – if she was forgiven for December’s mistake – a chance to help Clara look after the baby.
It wouldn’t do to mope like this. It certainly would not do!
‘Buck up Ettie! Show the world your mettle.’
The words came out of nowhere.
Ettie smiled through her held-back tears. ‘I will try, Rose,’ she promised, blowing out the candle. ‘Thank you and goodnight.’
But for all her good intentions, she lay awake, unable to sleep. Michael was all she could think about; Michael and the beautiful young woman who had captured his heart.
‘Ettie, Ettie, are you there?’ It was just after she had closed the salon door when there was a loud bang on the kitchen door. ‘It’s me, Terence.’
She hurried to open it. ‘Terence, what’s wrong?’
‘Not a single thing. Didn’t want to trouble you during business hours. Come and see this.’ He tugged her out into the warm May evening. ‘What do you think?’
Ettie stared curiously at the scruffy wicker cradle perched lopsidedly on a four-wheeled iron frame. ‘It’s one of these new-fangled perambulators,’ Terence said proudly. He lifted the cradle and set it down again on the chassis straps. ‘Nothing wrong with it, m’dear. Bit rough round the edges. But all in all, a bargain.’
‘Where did you get it?’ Ettie stepped forward to inspect the odd-looking contraption.
‘Aggie,’ he told her excitedly. ‘The old girl had it priced at a couple of bob. I said it was for you. She says, so the tobacconist’s girl has a baby? I says, not her own personal baby, oh no. A little one, coming soon from elsewhere. So, Aggie says, Terence my boy, she can have it. And she can have these thingies, too. Dress it all cosy. And so forth.’ He picked up a bundle of clothes tied in string. ‘No cost to Aggie. They arrived by the back door, if you see what I mean.’ He gave a sly wink.
Ettie smiled up at her old friend. ‘Aggie’s very kind.’
‘When she knew it was for the poor innocent victim of them circus charlatans – she coughed up.’
Ettie was embarrassed. ‘Does everyone know about what happened at Christmas?’
‘Didn’t need to tell ‘em. Look at this.’ He pulled a rolled newspaper from his apron pocket. Stretching it out over the cradle, he jabbed a finger. ‘See here. The London Daily. Told you we wasn’t the only ones to be rooked.’
‘Two women and a man were apprehended in Winchester yesterday, formerly of Soho, London. Suspected to be members of a band of dangerous vagrants and thieves touring the country, they were found in possession of jewels and silverware stolen from the country seat of Lord Grosvenor. The opportunists were caught in the act. Thought to have duped their victims by portraying themselves as French artistes, these Whitechapel born and bred criminals resisted arrest to their cost. The male was shot in the foot. Unfortunately, a policeman was severely injured during the fracas. Charged with resisting arrest, burglary and grievous bodily harm to an officer of the law, this vicious gang will stand trial for its crimes at the Old Bailey.’
Ettie took in a sharp breath. She felt slightly faint. ‘Do you think this could be Gwen, Lily and Gino?’
‘Certainly m’dear.’
‘A vicious gan
g?’
‘Dangerous thieves, vagrants, the newspaper says. Lived in Soho. Not French at all. Jewels and silverware. Just think yourself lucky m’dear. They could have done you in.’
‘I’m sure they wouldn’t.’ Yet Ettie couldn’t help thinking of Lily and her menacing change in character.
‘I can hardly believe it meself,’ sighed Terence, shaking his head. ‘Wouldn’t have thought butter’d melt in Gwen’s mouth.’
’So they didn’t belong to the circus?’
‘Doubt it, m’dear.’
Ettie held fast to the perambulator. Her knees felt weak. She had taken a gang of thieves to be her true friends.
‘And there was me,’ muttered Terence, interrupting her thoughts, ‘cutting up my best meat for free, serving it to – well, they wasn’t ladies, no no! And there was you, an innocent. Could’ve been so much worse, far worse.’ He raised his hairy eyebrows. ‘The law has ‘em now. They’ll not be out thieving and deceiving again. Strikes me you could bring a charge, m’dear. The coppers might get your takings back.’
‘But what could I hope to gain in accusing them?’ Ettie replied. ‘Lucas’s money will surely be spent.’
‘True. But you would have reprisal.’
Ettie shook her head. ‘I should never have drunk the green fairy.’
‘They fixed you, child.’
‘I learned a lesson.’
Terence gave her a sound pat on the back. ‘That’s it. That’s it. Look to the future, that’s right. Now, what say we take this vehicle out for a walkies? Up to the green and back. ‘See what needs oiling and repairing.’
Ettie smiled. She now had a perambulator to wheel the baby in and some clothes to wash and darn. And on Sunday after Mass, she would set about clearing the small spare room next to hers. It was full of tobacco boxes and other unwanted salon items. The room was small, but large enough to accommodate a baby, with curtains put up at the window, a set of drawers and a pretty picture for Clara’s little girl or boy. For Ettie, there would be a tiny person to love and take care of for Clara.
