It was late that afternoon before she dared venture back to the house where she found, to her relief, that Margaret had gone out.
‘Ah, here you are, dear,’ Alex greeted her as she came out of the drawing room with a book under her arm. ‘A letter from Mr Wainthrop came for you while you were out and one for me too enquiring after your health and asking me how you were settling in. I must say he does sound like a very caring man.’
‘He is.’ Flora lifted the letter that had been left for her from the silver tray in the hall table. At the thought of his kindness, Flora’s insides shrivelled with guilt. She was sick of having to watch every word she said and the longer it went on the more difficult it became. But at least it was clear that Margaret hadn’t carried out her threat as yet, because if she had, there was no way Alex would have greeted her as she had. Even so, Flora knew deep down that it was only a matter of time now. Margaret had made it more than clear that Flora wasn’t welcome there and now she would surely use the information she had gained to her advantage. She gave Alex a smile then hurried upstairs to read Mr Wainthrop’s letter in the privacy of her room.
My dear Constance,
I thought I would just drop you a quick line to check that all is well and that you have recovered from your dreadful ordeal. I visited Flora’s parents and siblings again last week just to see how they were coping and to try to persuade them again to accept the money you have offered but they are still flatly refusing what they think of as charity. They are understandably still deeply upset about Flora’s death, as I’m sure you are. I know that you were very fond of each other so I hope that you are coping.
Mrs Merry sends her love as always but she too is deeply upset at Flora’s loss. She is doing a sterling job of looking after the house. Have you made a decision yet as to whether you wish to keep it to return to eventually or have it sold? There is of course no rush. Just inform me what you want to do when you have reached a decision and I will carry out your wishes. Meantime I am always here if there is anything at all I can do for you.
With very best wishes
Victor Wainthrop.
Tears slid down Flora’s cheeks again as she carefully folded the letter and returned it to the envelope. She thought of the pain her family must be enduring, and in that moment, she knew that enough was enough. She couldn’t go on living a lie for a moment longer. Before she could change her mind, she locked the door – it wouldn’t do if Patsy were to walk in and catch her packing – and hurried to the wardrobe where she withdrew one of the bags that some of her new clothes had been delivered in. She was determined that she wouldn’t take much, so she packed only one change of clothes, a nightshirt and some underwear. The rest was left hanging in the wardrobe, for everything had never really been hers anyway.
Then she sat down to write a note to Alex and it was one of the most difficult things she had ever had to do. She sat for some time staring at the paper and eventually, with shaking hands, she began.
Dear Alex,
I know after you read this note you will never forgive me and I don’t blame you for I have done something quite unforgivable. What I am about to tell you will be very painful for you and I can only apologise but I cannot live a lie any longer, for you see it wasn’t Flora, the maid, who died on the dreadful evening the Titanic sank, it was your niece, Connie. I am Flora. When I was rescued I was wearing a belt about my waist containing Connie’s name and her jewellery and so the doctors and nurses aboard the Carpathia assumed that I was her. I was so terrified of arriving in a strange city with no one I knew waiting for me that I went along with the deception, but I find that I can’t live with myself anymore. I know now that what I did was foolish and I also know that what I am telling you will cause you great pain and I can only apologise. If I could go back in time I would never have done it but it is too late now and so I must finally tell you the truth and leave your home to make my own way.
Thank you for all the kindness you have shown me since I have been in your home and once again I apologise for my deception.
Flora xxx
With tears flowing thick and fast down her cheeks, she slid the note into an envelope, addressed it to Alex and propped it up against the jewellery box, which still contained Connie’s jewellery that had been in the bag that Mrs Merry had made for her. At least that was all still intact. Strangely enough she had always envied Connie her jewels yet never once since her arrival had she been able to bring herself to wear any of them.
She rose and glanced about the room, and the enormity of what she was about to do hit her. Once she set foot out of the door and Alex had read her letter there could be no coming back. She would be completely alone in a foreign country with nowhere to go and no one to turn to. But even that was preferable to continuing to live a lie, and at least she had the money that she had withdrawn for Toby. She would borrow it for now but once she had managed to get a job she would return it. She put the equivalent of forty English pounds in dollars into the belt that Mrs Merry had made for her and fastened it around her waist. The rest of the money she tucked deep into her bag.
She smiled through her tears as she thought how angry Toby would be when he discovered that she had run away. He would have to find some other poor soul to blackmail and it would serve him right. That was the only good thing to come out of this whole sorry mess. Then, quiet as a mouse, she tiptoed out onto the landing. There was no one to be seen thankfully so she crept downstairs and hurried towards the front door. Once outside she breathed a sigh of relief, then, lifting her skirts, she scooted along the pavement in a most unladylike manner determined to put as much distance as she could between herself and the lie she had been living.
Chapter Eighteen
By the time Flora slowed down to ease the stitch in her side, she had no idea where she was. She had never ventured this way before and she found herself amongst strangers of every nationality. She wandered aimlessly on through a maze of alleys, each one seeming to get dirtier and dingier than the one before. Rows of houses stood one after the other, their roofs almost touching overheard and blocking out the fast-fading light, and Flora began to feel nervous. Hungry dogs were scavenging in the gutters and rheumy-eyed old men stood in the doorways of the houses, smoking their pipes and watching her suspiciously. Flora had chosen to wear the plainest outfit she possessed but suddenly even that felt out of place in the warren of streets she found herself in. Clutching her bag tightly to her she scuttled along but she could feel curious eyes burning into her back.
The air was echoing with the sounds of couples fighting and swearing and children crying, and once again she felt as if she had stepped into a nightmare. She remembered many such places like this back home in London and had always been warned by her parents to stay well away from them, especially at night. And now here she was with nowhere to go and no idea where she was going to spend the night. Admittedly, she consoled herself, she had money but should she choose to stay in one of the grander hotels it would be gone in the blink of an eye and if she were to stay somewhere less salubrious there was every chance she could be set upon and have her money stolen. Silently she cursed herself. Why hadn’t she thought things through before running away? She didn’t even have anyone she knew to ask advice of. She quickened her steps, praying that she would be able to find her way back to the city centre.
As she passed through a particularly dark alley, she became aware of footsteps behind her and, trembling, she quickened her pace. Perhaps it was just someone walking in the same direction as her, she tried to tell herself, but the faster she went the faster the person or persons behind her went too.
Suddenly her mouth was dry and her heart was pounding painfully as she broke into a run. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing to attention and she could hear whoever it was behind her panting now as they raced to keep up with her. Then a hand snaked across her shoulder and fastened across her mouth effectively blocking the scream that was building in her throat. She could tell by the shee
r size of him that it was a man. It was too dark to see his face but she could feel his fetid breath on her cheek as he slammed her against the wall so hard that for a moment she was winded. Then before she could even begin to fight back he tried to wrestle her bag from her hand and she struggled with all her might to hang on to it as muttered curses echoed down the alley. All of a sudden the man brought his hand back and slapped her hard across the cheek, making her head bounce on her shoulders, and she fell sideways as her bag was yanked from her hand.
‘Pretty little filly, ain’t yer,’ a voice said. ‘Per’aps yer’d like to be nice to me, eh?’ His hand snaked out once more and tweaked her breast painfully as she tried to struggle to her feet. Sheer terror was coursing through her veins now as she realised what he intended to do but thankfully at that moment she heard yet more footsteps and suddenly the man fled taking her bag with him. Seconds later two tiny Chinese women appeared.
‘A … a man, took my bag,’ she gasped as she dragged herself to her knees but they merely glanced down at her and hurried on their way, chuntering away in their own language. Petrified that the man would come back, Flora stumbled after them sobbing quietly and eventually she emerged into a slightly wider street that was dotted with shops and run-down houses. But at least there were street lights here and she sobbed with relief. She had lost everything she possessed now apart from the money that she had thought to put in the belt about her waist, but she knew that things could have been far worse had the Chinese women not come along when they had, and she cursed herself for a fool.
Tentatively she raised her hand to her face and was surprised when it came away wet. Her nose was bleeding profusely and already she could feel her eye closing. The pins had escaped from her hair and was hanging about her shoulders and she realised that she must look a dreadful sight, yet no one looked at her twice. They merely turned their heads and hurried on their way completely ignoring her. Flora staggered a little further along the street until she came to the doorway of a shop that was closed, so she slipped into it and dropped to a sitting position.
The door was set well back from the road so unless anyone looked hopefully they wouldn’t see her there. She realised with a little shock that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast and her stomach began to growl ominously but she was too afraid to venture out onto the street again and so she sat on as people passed by as if she was invisible. Eventually it became quiet apart from the sounds of drunks, mainly sailors, tipping out of various pubs and finally she slept from pure exhaustion, hugging her knees and wishing with all her heart and soul that she was once more tucked up in her little bed in her home in London.
A harsh voice brought her eyes springing open early the next morning and blinking up she found herself confronting a small, stooped Chinese man who she assumed was the shop owner and who looked none too pleased to find her there. He was jabbering away at her in his own tongue and although Flora couldn’t understand a word he said it was clear from his gesticulations that he wanted her gone.
‘I’m going, I’m going,’ she groaned as she painfully dragged herself to her feet. Every bone in her body ached, the blood from her nose had dried on her face and when she tried to open the eye that her attacker had hit the pain was excruciating. The shop owner continued to rant at her and wave his arms angrily as she staggered off down the street but she ignored him. She hadn’t done anything to harm his precious shop after all, she reasoned. Further along the street she came to a café but after a glimpse inside she hurried straight past it. It was full of burly-looking sailors of every nationality and she was too afraid to venture inside.
The city was coming to life and the sound of traffic, trams and horses’ hooves hung on the air. Soon the Hudson River came in sight and she stopped for a second to stare at it. There were boats of every shape and size anchored on it. Some of them would be cargo ships, others fishing vessels and some would be passenger ships. It reminded her for a moment of the River Thames and once again a wave of homesickness swept over her and her heart was crying, Jamie, where are you?
Sailors were rolling barrels and carrying sacks up some of the gangplanks while others were leading livestock aboard, but after a time she turned away and went in search of somewhere she might get something to eat. Her first night alone had not gone at all well and she wondered if things could possibly get any worse. She had nothing but the clothes she was wearing and the money in the belt and she cursed herself again for her foolishness. Still, it was too late to cry over spilled milk so she walked on and soon after was rewarded when she came to yet another café. Now that the majority of the sailors were busy at work this one was almost empty so she ventured inside and cautiously approached the counter. A middle-aged, blowsy-looking woman with bleached-blonde hair and wearing a shockingly low-cut blouse and a plastering of make-up on her face was lounging against the counter smoking a cigarette. To Flora’s surprise she barely gave her a second look although Flora knew she must look a terrible sight.
‘Could I have a pot of tea and some toast please?’ she asked self-consciously.
‘Yes, sit yourself down an’ I’ll bring it over,’ the woman answered, waving her hand vaguely in the direction of the tables as she dropped fag ash all over the counter. Flora was painfully aware that the place was none too clean. The woman clearly didn’t exert herself doing much cleaning but right then she was just grateful to have somewhere to sit and rest for a while and something to eat. Flora went to the furthest corner nearest to the window and sat with her back to the rest of the customers and soon the woman plodded over to her and slopped a cracked mug full of tea and a plate of buttered toast onto the table in front of her.
Flora smiled as best she could and hastily paid her. After hovering for a while the woman remarked, ‘Looks like you’ve been in the wars.’
Flora’s hand rose to her face and she flushed. ‘Yes … I was attacked last night and a man took my bag. When I tried to stop him he … he hit me.’
‘Hmm, well you can think yourself lucky that’s all he did,’ the woman commented. ‘It ain’t safe for a man let alone a woman to walk about round here alone at night.’ Then narrowing her eyes, she asked, ‘Run away from home, have you?’
Flora squirmed in her seat. ‘Sort of. I’m er … looking for a job and somewhere to stay. You wouldn’t happen to know of anywhere, I don’t suppose?’
The woman shrugged, setting her ample bosoms jiggling. ‘There’s any number o’ doss houses round here where yer can stay for a coupla dollars so long as you don’t mind sharing with the cockroaches and the rats. But if you don’t mind me saying, you don’t look the sort to rough it. If I was you I’d get off home as fast as me feet would take me.’
Flora shook her head. ‘I can’t do that,’ she said dully as she lifted the mug and took a sip of the tepid tea. It instantly opened up the split on her lip and it began to bleed again, much to her embarrassment.
‘Then all I can tell you is there’s always work to be found in the curry shops but be prepared to work like a dog for a pittance, an’ they’ll work you long hours. There’s the Chinese laundry an’ all. They don’t tend to be able to keep staff for long. It’s three streets away if that helps. Meantime get that inside you an’ then you can clean up a bit in the toilet out the back if you want.’
It appeared that the woman did have a heart after all and Flora smiled at her gratefully as she started to eat the food in front of her. The toilet the woman directed her to some minutes later was out in the back yard and she had to walk through the filthy kitchen to reach it. It was just as dirty as the inside of the café, if not worse. But even so there was a sink in there at least, so Flora tore the bottom off her underskirt, soaked it in water and cleaned her face as best she could. There was a cracked mirror hanging above the sink and she was horrified when she caught a glimpse of her face. It was so swollen that she hardly recognised herself but there was nothing she could do about it and she supposed that she should just be grateful that things hadn’t been worse.
At least it had taught her a valuable lesson and now she was determined to find somewhere to stay before darkness fell again.
Once back in the café, she thanked the woman and set off in the direction of the laundry she had mentioned. She had done plenty of laundry when she had first gone to work for Connie, as well as helping her mother in the washhouse, so she had no doubt that she could handle the work and then she would concentrate on finding somewhere to stay. On the way she passed many shops selling everything from buckets and bowls to exotic fruits. There was also a cobbler, a bakery, a Jewish tailor and a great number of eating houses catering to the many nationalities of the people she passed. Many were Chinese, as well as people with coal-black hair and skin as dark as midnight and it occurred to her once more that the place wasn’t really so very different to the docks she had lived close to in London.
As she passed the many curry houses the smell of hot spices that wafted through their doors almost took her breath away, while the smell of the fresh-baked bread in the baker made her stomach rumble again. But there was no time to stop or dawdle, she was determined that before nightfall she would have found herself somewhere to stay and a job; there was no way she wanted to spend another night on the streets like some homeless vagrant, which, she begrudgingly had to admit, she was, for now at least.
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