The Doorstep Girls Read online

  He was right of course, trade was generally slack during the week, but Sunday mornings she was always exhausted and spent the day in bed. But how would she attract businessmen? She was much thinner than she had been in her younger days and her clothes were shabby and torn. She looked what she was, a destitute street woman.

  ‘Leave it to me,’ Jamie had said before he went off to the Market Place. He came back a few hours later and shook her awake. Under his arm he had a black and red cotton dress trimmed with lace at the neck and hem, an embroidered shawl, and a jacket for himself. She didn’t ask how he had acquired them, for he often brought things home that he couldn’t have obtained honestly.

  ‘This is what you must do,’ he’d said. ‘Get dressed now, no – not in these,’ as she’d reached for the new finery, ‘and find a customer. Charge as much as you think he can afford. Then,’ he’d shaken a finger at her, ‘in ’morning you must go to ’public baths. It’ll cost a penny but you’ll get a clean towel and soap in with ’price of hot water. Wash your hair – you used to have lovely hair, Ma,’ and she nodded, for she did, thick and fair and curly. He winked. ‘Then we’re in business.’

  ‘What you talking about, Jamie?’ she’d asked. ‘How can we be in business?’

  ‘I’m going to choose your customers,’ he grinned. ‘I’ve been observing folks coming and going and I know ’best places to catch ’em, and it’s not walking up and down outside inns and public houses like a common drab.’

  She was unsure to begin with, but she’d trusted him and it had worked. He approached, not single men walking alone, but groups of men, coming out from their banks or places of business, and in a sly whisper told them that he knew of a very presentable lady who was most obliging. There was much guffawing and loud banter as they refused his offer and walked away, but there was always one, or sometimes two, who would turn their heads and catch his eye. He would nod and place his finger on his lips to denote secrecy, and then sit on the nearest steps or wall and await their hurried return to arrange an assignation.

  He was often given a copper for his trouble and when the time and place were arranged, he would race off to the nearest clean and private establishment where they were discreet about such matters, and book a room for an hour.

  As time went on, his mother’s customers became regular, her income was steady and they eventually were able to afford a ground-floor room of their own instead of having to share with others. Although Middle Court was hardly luxurious, the rent was cheap and the neighbours minded their own business.

  Jamie had no other regular job, but he carried messages about the town and was known to be discreet. He delivered packages and parcels and even joints of meat for the butcher and boxes of groceries for the grocer, both of whom also happened to be his mother’s customers. He was his own master, beholden to no-one, and always had money in his pocket. But he was adamant about one thing, and that was that his mother should never bring men home.

  He sat now on the steps of the bank in the warm summer evening and watched as people hurried home from their places of work. Through shop windows he saw shop girls with weary faces, and drapers folding rolls of cloth and rearranging their displays. Factory workers trudged along the street towards homes where there would be little comfort, and he was glad of his good fortune that he and his mother could choose their working hours. They didn’t have to be up before dawn broke through the skies, but were usually just tumbling into their beds.

  He saw Ruby come out of the chemist’s shop and hurry across the street to a man with a small boy. Curiously he observed her as she spoke to the man. ‘Surely!’ he muttered. ‘Not Ruby?’ but then he saw that the small boy was her brother. He watched as Ruby herself watched the man walk away and Freddie constantly turn around to wave, and his natural inquisitiveness made him want to know what was happening. He followed Ruby as she raced towards home and greeted her mother as she came out from the alley, saw money change hands and her mother scurry off towards the Tap and Barrel.

  They’ve come into money, he mused. I wonder how? And it was then that a process of thought began and he saw Ruby in a different light.

  When Daniel Hanson pushed the cart down the alleyway and saw the two girls sitting side by side on the doorstep, he was immediately struck by their closeness, their obvious easy companionship. At first he thought that perhaps they were sisters, even though they were dissimilar: one so dark and lively, who looked as if she might have been plump had she had sufficient to eat, the other fair and slender, with fine accentuated cheekbones and an air of fragility. But then he reasoned that they were not sisters, for the fair one, whom he now knew to be Grace, entered her house whilst Ruby stayed outside until invited in.

  He helped to unpack the box containing their few belongings, but kept glancing towards the uncurtained window and across the court towards Grace’s house.

  ‘Don’t keep looking out there,’ his mother grumbled. ‘And don’t think of getting friendly with them lasses! Dirty little trollops. No better than they should be, I reckon.’

  ‘That’s not fair, Ma,’ he protested. ‘They’re probably just back from work.’

  ‘Well, they’re not shop girls, that’s a fact. Not wearing those old rags.’ Had Mrs Hanson had a daughter, being a shop girl would have been an ambition she would have actively encouraged.

  He saw Ruby come out of Grace’s house and go to the end of the court, and, by peering from the side of the window, watched her go through another doorway. So that’s where she lives, he thought. So the two girls are friends. A little later, as he glanced out at the darkening court, a youth of about his own age sauntered by. He was whistling as he went towards the alleyway and adjusting the yellow kerchief around his neck. Daniel perked up. He seemed a merry sort of fellow. He had a jaunty step and an air of confidence about him, which was quite unusual in this bleak and dilapidated area.

  ‘I can’t get this fire to burn. ’Wood must be damp.’ His mother’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

  ‘It’s not damp,’ he said. ‘It was under cover at ’wood yard. Here, let me do it.’ He knelt down on the rough bricks which had been laid to keep the occupants’ feet clear of the earth floor. They were laid haphazardly and in the gaps between them, damp soil oozed out.

  He blew vigorously at the smouldering wood in the hearth. ‘It’s not drawing. Do you think ’chimney stack is blocked up with soot, Da?’

  ‘There’s mebbe a fireplace upstairs.’ His father drew himself up from the chair where he had been sitting in deep melancholy. ‘It’s probably been shut off to keep draught out.’

  ‘Go on and look then,’ his wife urged. ‘There’s nobody up there. But look sharp about it otherwise there’ll be no pot o’ tea tonight.’

  Daniel was halfway up the stairs when he stopped, his father almost cannoning into him. ‘What a stink, Da.’ He held his hand over his nose. ‘That’s not just damp!’

  His father too put his hand over his lower face. ‘It’s privy! It’ll not have been emptied. I bet it’s seeping under ’floor.’ He screwed up his face and muttered despairingly, ‘God! What have we come to? I never ever thought –’

  ‘We’ll be out of it soon, Da.’ Daniel lowered his hand from his face but dared not take a breath, the stench was so overpowering. ‘If it’s ’privy, why is it worse up here?’ He took further steps up the broken staircase towards the closed door of the upstairs room, which had a piece of timber battened across it to keep out vagrants or other such persons who were seeking shelter and unable to pay for it.

  ‘I’ll fetch ’crowbar.’ His father turned and went downstairs and opened the outer door to let in some air.

  ‘Door’s locked,’ Daniel told him when he returned. ‘We’ve no key.’

  ‘Shan’t need one.’ His father, awkwardly, because of his damaged hand, applied the crowbar and wrenched off the board. ‘Put your foot against it. These houses weren’t built to last.’

  ‘Are you sure, Da?’ Daniel was hesitant about da
maging other people’s property.

  ‘I’ll do it. ’Landlord who owns this place should be made to live in it.’ His father’s tone was bitter and he handed Daniel the crowbar and aimed a kick at the door, which splintered. He kicked again, viciously this time as if he was kicking the landlord’s head, the panels fell in and they stepped inside.

  The room was dark, the window being boarded up from the outside. At first they couldn’t see anything as the only light was coming from the doorway, but the stench was intolerable and they kept their hands over their noses. As their eyes became accustomed to the gloom, they saw that the only furniture was a battered wooden chair and a small table, with a pile of rags heaped in the corner. Daniel baulked at the odour and turned to go out. If the chimney was blocked then it would have to stay blocked, he couldn’t stay a moment longer without taking a breath.

  His father laid a hand on his arm to detain him. ‘Daniel!’ he whispered. ‘Wait.’ He stepped slowly and cautiously towards the corner of the room where the rags lay, and where now could be seen the decaying remains of dead rats.

  He put his boot against the rags and hesitantly nudged them, then jumped back in alarm as if he had been bitten. He turned to Daniel, a look of horror on his face. ‘Better fetch ’constable. There’s a body under here.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘Who do you think she was, Ma?’ Grace and her mother watched from the window, first the constable and parish officer arriving at the Hansons’, and then the carters who brought out a body on a wooden stretcher. The sheet covering the body slipped as the men manoeuvred the stretcher through the narrow doorway and they saw a glimpse of a woman’s skirt and bare foot.

  Her mother shook her head. ‘Some poor soul with nowhere to go.’ She sighed. ‘She’s out of her misery now, anyway.’

  ‘Somebody must be missing her.’ Grace was almost in tears. ‘She must be somebody’s daughter or sister. Or mother,’ she added, for they couldn’t tell the age of the woman by the glimpse they had of her.

  Her mother turned away from the window. ‘She might not be from these parts. She could have come from another district looking for work. Or mebbe been turned out by her family. Who knows?’ She gave a cynical grunt. ‘She wouldn’t have chosen to live in this sewer anyway, not if she’d had any other choice.’

  Grace continued to gaze at the darkening court. Daniel Hanson came out of the house and leaned against the wall. His face was pale and he kept running his hand through his brown hair in an abstracted way. I wonder if it was Daniel who found the body? she thought. And where was it? She glanced at the upstairs room opposite. The boards had been knocked out and from the broken window a torn curtain fluttered.

  Daniel saw her and signalled to her to come across. ‘Not a good start, is it?’ he began. ‘Finding a body on ’day we move in! Ma’s having a fit inside.’ He indicated with a slight movement of his head towards the doorway.

  ‘Who was it?’ Grace asked in a low voice. ‘I hope it wasn’t anybody we know.’

  ‘It was a woman.’ He grimaced. ‘She’d been there a week or two, I reckon. She must have hidden in ’cupboard when she heard sanitary men coming in. They’d been to put poison down for ’rats.’ He glanced at her and decided not to explain anything further.

  ‘Landlord will be in trouble for sealing up ’window, I expect,’ Grace said in a low voice. ‘His men should have checked first to make sure there was nobody inside. She might have been knocking and we didn’t hear!’ Her voice broke. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about.’

  ‘Do you fancy a walk?’ he asked suddenly. ‘I could do with getting out of here for a bit.’

  ‘All right,’ she agreed. ‘I’ll just get my shawl.’ The sun was down and a breeze had sprung up, dispelling the sultry air.

  ‘I’ll not have to be long,’ she said, when she came back and followed him down the alleyway and towards the street. ‘I’ve to be up at five o’clock.’

  ‘Where do you work?’ he asked.

  ‘Cotton mill.’

  ‘Are you a weaver? Or a spinner?’

  ‘No!’ She gave a grim laugh. ‘Neither of those. Wish I was. I fetch and carry, sweep ’floors, wash down ’frames, shift ’bales, fill ’bobbins, do whatever I’m asked. I’m one of ’old hands, been there since I was a bairn.’

  It was his turn to laugh. ‘You’re onny a bairn now!’

  ‘I’m not,’ she said. ‘I’m fifteen.’

  She looked younger. She was slight, with small hands and feet and a heart-shaped face, her eyebrows darker than her fair hair. Eyebrows which had a coating of white dust on them, as did the tip of her nose.

  They came out into the busy street. Shops were still open to allow the factory and mill workers to buy their provisions and the inns and taverns were already crowded with people.

  ‘How long have you lived in Middle Court?’ he asked.

  She glanced up at him. ‘I don’t remember ever living anywhere else.’

  ‘Really? It’s a dump! How can you stand it?’

  She shrugged. ‘We’ve no money to live anywhere else. Besides, ’landlord knows that my ma and da will allus pay ’rent. Da says we must pay ’rent even before we eat.’

  They walked on, away from the overcrowded courts and alleyways which spilled over to the banks of the river Hull, and towards the pleasant square of Jarrett Street and John Street.

  ‘Well, I don’t intend staying there.’ Daniel’s face was set. ‘We’ve hit hard times now, but as soon as I’m out of my apprenticeship, then I’ll get a job and we’ll up sticks and be off.’

  ‘Where will you go?’ She was curious. She had never even thought that the option of moving house was open to her or her parents.

  ‘Where the work is. But I shan’t live in a cesspit like Middle Court! Those houses should be pulled down. No,’ he said decidedly. ‘There has to be something better and I shall work towards it.’

  ‘I must get back,’ she said, suddenly anxious at the lateness of the hour. ‘If I sleep late in ’morning, I shall lose wages.’ She was also secretly alarmed at what he had said about pulling down the houses in Middle Court. Where would they live if that happened? No-one would give them another room such as they had now, with a hearth and a window, and a door that wasn’t broken, and a proper bed on legs, not just an old mattress like Ruby and her mother and brother slept on. Not without paying extra rent, they wouldn’t, and even with her mother’s, father’s, and her own wages, they couldn’t afford more than the two shillings and sixpence which was what they paid now. Whatever was he thinking of?

  Some rubbish, paper and a piece of cardboard, blew in front of them and Daniel kicked it with his boot, but Grace bent down and picked up the cardboard and turned it over in her hand.

  ‘What do you want with that?’ he asked.

  ‘It’ll line ’sole of my boot,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a hole in one of them.’

  He said nothing, but glanced down at her feet. Her boots were shabby and worn and he saw that the leather had come away from the sole. The cardboard, he thought, would do nothing to keep the rain out. ‘Will you come for a walk on Sunday?’ he asked. ‘I generally go down towards ’river.’

  She pulled a face. ‘To ’river Hull, do you mean?’

  ‘No! Of course not. It’s foul. Everybody throws rubbish in there, including ’butchers and ’night-soil men. I once saw a dead pig floating in it and some little bairns were trying to lasso it and drag it out! No, I meant down to ’estuary – to ’Humber. There’s always a breeze and you can watch ’ships coming in and going out.’

  ‘All right,’ she agreed. She had been down to the Humber many times with her father when she was a child, but not lately. Her father nowadays slept most of Sundays, especially if he had been drinking the night before.

  His Saturday-night drinking was the one thing guaranteed to put her mother into a state of anger. But Grace’s father insisted that it wasn’t his fault. He had to have a drink. The labourers’ wages were paid out in one of
the inns close to the docks and they were expected to buy ale there once they were paid. If he didn’t, he said, then his employment couldn’t be depended upon, as the employers and publicans were hand in glove.

  It was almost dark as they approached the first court and blackness confronted them in the narrow alleyway leading to Middle Court. ‘Are you scared?’ he asked, and she didn’t like to admit that she was and that she usually raced down the alley if she was alone. ‘Do you want to take my arm?’

  She hesitated. Once, several years before, when she had approached the alley, Jamie had seen her and offered her his arm too. But he had put his arm around her waist, to protect her, he’d said, only his hand had strayed under her shawl and found its way towards her developing breasts. She’d felt very strange and a little frightened and she’d pushed him away and run off. His laughter had echoed after her and since then she had been careful not to be alone with him.

  ‘I’m all right,’ she murmured, but he walked in front of her and held his hand out behind him so that she could hold it if she wanted to, so she felt quite reassured.

  Her mother and father were already in bed when she opened the door to their room. Her father was asleep. She could hear the gentle pht, pht, sound that he always made. ‘You’re late, Grace,’ her mother chastised her. ‘You’ll not get up in ’morning and you know I’ve to be at work for five.’

  ‘Sorry, Ma. I’ve been for a walk with Daniel Hanson.’ She slipped out of her boots and took off her skirt and shirt and climbed into the bed next to her mother. ‘Ma!’ she said, after a few minutes.

  ‘Mm?’ Her mother responded sleepily. ‘What?’

  ‘Have you ever thought that you’d like to live somewhere else? Instead of Middle Court, I mean?’

  ‘Huh! Every night in my dreams,’ her mother murmured. ‘Why?’

  Grace sighed. ‘Oh, nothing really.’ She looked up at the ceiling. Sometimes, if they had had a good fire, if her father had found plenty of kindling or even a piece of coal that had dropped off a coal waggon, she would watch the dancing shadows flickering on the ceiling as she lay in bed. But tonight the fire had burnt to ash and the room was in darkness, the only light filtering in from the uncurtained window. She thought of Daniel and his determined tone of voice saying that he wouldn’t be staying here. ‘I just wondered, that’s all.’