The Whitechapel Girl Read online

  ‘Where’s she tonight, then?’

  Billy grinned. ‘Gone and got herself a boyfriend, ain’t she?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah. Funny-looking geezer from down Union Street. But he’s a good un. Got himself a fruit stall down the Lane.’

  ‘Myrtle’ll like that.’

  He looked directly at Ettie. ‘Yer right. And looks ain’t everything, are they, Ett?’

  ‘May always wanted to find herself someone steady,’ said Ettie. ‘I hope she’s happy. Give her my love, won’t yer, Bill?’ As she spoke she shivered.

  ‘Yer cold. Here.’ Billy slipped out of his jacket and Ettie let him drape it round her shoulders. She didn’t move or pull away when his hands brushed against her throat as he straightened the collar.

  ‘Ta, Bill,’ she whispered, looking up into his eyes. ‘You always was good to me. Ta.’

  Billy gulped and started staring at his boots again, but he quickly looked up. ‘I forgot!’ he exclaimed, and suddenly started rummaging around in the jacket pockets.

  ‘Here! What’s your game? Get yer hands off,’ said Ettie, pulling away. ‘Whatever’s got into you, Billy?’

  ‘This,’ said Billy, handing her a little leather pouch that he’d taken from the inside jacket pocket. ‘I got something for yer, look.’

  Ettie frowned at him. ‘I thought yer’d taken leave of yer senses,’ she said, pulling the coat round her.

  ‘Go on, open it,’ he urged her.

  Ettie pulled open the drawstring fastening and shook the contents out on to her palm. ‘Bill!’

  ‘Do yer like it?’

  ‘I dunno what to say.’ In her hand was an oval, golden locket and chain. She held it up to the light coming from the pub window. On the front of the locket was the letter ‘E’ engraved in fancy script. ‘It’s ever so pretty, Bill,’ she breathed. ‘But yer shouldn’t have. Yer shouldn’t waste yer money on me.’

  ‘I’m glad yer like it,’ he said, and took the locket from her hands. ‘Turn round and I’ll do it up for yer.’ As he fiddled with the delicate fastener, he spoke to her over her shoulder. ‘I’m doing right well for meself at work, Ett. Things went wrong for a bit but I’ve sorted meself out now. I’ve even been able to put a few shillings by and pay for another room for Mum. And buy yer this necklace.’ He stood back a little. ‘There.’

  Ettie turned back to face him. ‘Well,’ she said, rearranging the chain in the pin-tucks of her blouse. ‘What d’yer think?’

  ‘I think yer look like a proper princess,’ he said.

  ‘Ta, Bill,’ she said.

  ‘Yer keep saying that tonight,’ he smiled. ,

  ‘And I mean it,’ she said. ‘But, honest, yer shouldn’t go spending yer money on me.’

  ‘I couldn’t help meself,’ he grinned. ‘Soon as I saw it in the pawnshop I knew yer’d like it. So I put down a deposit on it, then paid it off over a couple of weeks. I’ve been keeping it for yer ever since. Cos I knew yer’d come back, Ett.’ He leaned closer to her. ‘Cos yer a Whitechapel girl, ain’t yer, like Maisie always said.’

  ‘That don’t mean I have to stay in this hole all me life,’ said Ettie faintly.

  ‘No, but it means that yer know what’s what. What’s important in life. Yer’ve seen it all if yer come from round here.’ He looked into her eyes and, even in the gaslight, Ettie could see that he’d blushed crimson. ‘That’s one of the reasons I’ve been working so hard. I figured out what matters and I’ve been saving see. For us. Waiting for yer to see sense and come home. We belong together, Ett, you and me.’

  The smile vanished from her face. ‘I think yer’ve got it all wrong, Bill,’ she said. ‘I ain’t come back. Not like you mean.’

  ‘Yer mean yer going back with him?’ Billy shook his head disbelievingly. ‘After what happened in there, when he left yer to let all them blokes start on yer?’

  ‘Don’t exaggerate, Bill. Nothing happened in there and you know it.’

  ‘I know you was glad enough to see me and Alfie.’

  ‘Jacob just didn’t notice, that’s all.’

  ‘He didn’t wanna notice, yer mean.’

  ‘Oh leave off, Billy,’ she said, turning her back on him. ‘Can’t yer stop going on?’

  ‘Yer making excuses for him, that’s all. What’s so special about him anyway? You don’t know nothing about him. Or where he’s from. Nothing.’

  ‘How do you know what I know about him?’ said Ettie, spinning round, her face almost touching Billy’s and her voice rising to a yell.

  ‘Well, yer didn’t know that the bloke’s a bleed’n coward, did yer?’ Billy hollered back at her. ‘That was sodding obvious.’

  ‘Is everything all right out here?’ At the sound of Jacob’s voice, Ettie and Billy leapt back from each other.

  ‘It was, till you showed up,’ muttered Billy.

  ‘Shut up, Bill,’ hissed Ettie, hastily turning away from them both. She tucked the locket down inside her blouse, hoping that Jacob hadn’t noticed it.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ Jacob asked.

  ‘No,’ she snapped. ‘Why should there be?’

  ‘Is this why you asked me to leave you alone?’ he said evenly. ‘So that you could be alone with your friend?’

  ‘What’re yer letting him speak to yer like that for, Ett?’ Billy demanded to know. ‘You don’t have to answer to no one.’

  ‘No. And you don’t have to poke yer nose into my business. Now why don’t yer piss off, both of yer. Just leave me alone. And yer can take this back and all,’ she shouted angrily, throwing Billy’s jacket down on to the damp pavement.

  ‘I’ll forget what yer’ve said tonight, Ettie. I don’t think yer really meant it,’ Billy said, picking up his coat and shaking it. ‘I’ll put it down to yer being upset by yer mum and everything. But I’m telling yer, I meant every word I said tonight.’ He put on his jacket, walked off down Thrawl Street towards Commercial Street, and quickly melted into the shadows.

  ‘What did he say that was so momentous?’ Jacob asked, looking in the direction in which Billy had disappeared.

  Ettie was just about to open her mouth and hope that some convincing story about what Billy had said would come out, but she didn’t have to worry. Suddenly the sound of chimes and peels rang out, competing with the wild yells from the pub and the crashing of saucepan lids and kettles from the surrounding streets.

  ‘Eighteen eighty-eight,’ said Jacob.

  ‘Happy bloody New Year,’ said Ettie.

  PART TWO

  Spring 1888

  ‘But Jacob, say no one comes?’ Ettie threw her gloves on to the chair and flopped down on the bed, her energy drained by anxiety. ‘This is my one big chance to do something right. I couldn’t bear it if it all goes wrong.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Ettie.’ Jacob spoke to Ettie, but he was looking into the cheval looking-glass, contemplating his immaculately pressed and brushed outfit. ‘All the posters and the leaflets have been distributed,’ he said, picking at an almost imperceptible speck of fluff on his shoulder. ‘And the tickets for the first show have been sold out for a week. So don’t worry. Just remember what I told you. Relax and think of it as just another performance.’

  ‘I don’t know why you’re so calm,’ she snapped, her fear making her aggressive. ‘It’s hardly a penny gaff, is it?’ She stared hard at the ceiling. ‘Till the rehearsals I hadn’t even been inside a posh theatre before, let alone done a show in one.’ She rubbed her hand over her face then turned over to face him. Propping herself up on her elbow she asked, ‘Say they don’t like me? You should have got Lou to help you with the new show, Jacob. She’s a pro, not a know-nothing like me.’

  ‘They’ll love you, Ettie, believe me,’ he said, squinting over his shoulder at his reflection and trying to see if his back view was as fetching as that of his front.

  ‘And I keep thinking about that woman who got nicked for fortune-telling. I might have done a lot of things but I’ve never been nicked
.’

  ‘I’ll explain again,’ Jacob said, his voice beginning to betray his diminishing reserve of patience. ‘We are not fortune-tellers, Ettie. Nor do we claim to be. We are researchers conducting investigations into the spirit world. If we do offer any clairvoyant guidance, then that will be done in private sittings and for a contribution – a donation – certainly never a fee.’

  ‘I don’t think I wanna do this,’ she whined, curling up and hugging the pillow to her chest. ‘I really don’t.’

  Jacob walked over to the bed and pulled her up roughly by the arm. ‘Ettie, pull yourself together. I believe that you are actually doing this deliberately. Do you want to go back to that hovel in Whitechapel? Do you want to have a string of babies and die before you’re thirty from the sheer wear of it all?’

  Ettie sank back down on the bed and rolled over, turning her back to him.

  ‘Get your cape and hat, Ettie. Now. We have to leave.’ He grabbed hold of the door-handle and pulled it open with unnecessary force. ‘And for God’s sake take care with your voice. You sound like a guttersnipe.’

  ‘Billy never talked to me like that,’ she said pathetically.

  ‘Billy had no cause to,’ he snapped back. ‘He had nothing to offer and nothing to lose.’

  Dry-mouthed with fear at what was to come, and too scared even to feel fury at his harsh words, Ettie sat rigidly and silently next to Jacob in the back of the cab. She heard nothing of his final instructions for the performance. All she wanted was to be sick. The rocking of the hansom as it sped over the uneven cobbles of the road, combined with the smell of polished leather and sweating horse-flesh, made her feel even worse. Perhaps she really did want to be back in Whitechapel – still be anonymous little Ettie Wilkins, pulling fur for a living and meeting Billy Bury for a drink or two in the Frying Pan. He was a real nice lad, Billy, she thought – secretly putting her hand to where the locket he had given her nestled beneath her blouse – everyone said so. And he could have been hers. So whatever was she doing being driven along in a cab, dressed up like a Christmas parcel and kidding herself that she could put on a show in front of hundreds and hundreds of people with some posh geezer who didn’t give a damn about her? It was almost funny: only a few months ago she’d never even been in a cab, and now she was wishing she could get out and walk.

  ‘I can’t do it, Jacob,’ she said into her lap. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t.’

  ‘Too late,’ he said simply, ‘we’re here.’

  ‘You hard bastard,’ she mouthed to herself.

  She allowed Jacob to lead her past the front doors of the theatre, too numb to object. She didn’t even notice that a long queue had already formed at the box office.

  Jacob pushed her firmly and wordlessly into the side alley which led to the stage door. The stale smelling, enclosed space was curiously comforting in its cosy familiarity. If it had been just a bit grubbier and dingier, with a few more dusty weeds growing up between the cracks, it would almost have been like the entry into Tyvern Court, where she had once lived what now seemed a blissfully uncomplicated existence.

  Jacob walked closely behind her, herding her towards the warmly lit door like a shepherd guiding a recalcitrant sheep from the hillside.

  As they mounted the worn stone steps, the doorman greeted them with a cheery welcome. ‘Never seen nothing like the business the box office is doing for this little lady,’ he said to Jacob, his face wreathed in smiles and his red cheeks shining. ‘All of London’s gone spirit-mad I reckon.’

  Ettie managed a nervous smile in return. ‘Will the house be full, do you think?’ she asked him timorously.

  ‘To bursting, little lady. To bursting,’ the jolly-faced man reassured her. ‘They can’t wait to get their minces on yer!’

  Ettie took a deep relieved breath. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and walked briskly towards the dressing room.

  Jacob handed the man a coin. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘She needed that.’

  ‘Yer welcome, sir,’ said the man, winking broadly and touching his finger to his forehead in a little salute. ‘Don’t want to see the little lady get all excitable, do we now? I’m used to the theatrical temperament, you see.’ He bit the coin automatically before he pocketed it, then handed Jacob a small stack of envelopes. ‘Letters, sir,’ he explained to the puzzled-looking Jacob. ‘I wasn’t telling no lies to the little lady. There’s plenty of interest in the show, all right. Them posters of yours have been bringing ’em in and no mistake.’ He chuckled. ‘The ghosties and spirits always gets ’em going.’ He winked again, squeezing his watery old eye tight. ‘Yer on to a winner if ever I saw one, guv.’

  The old stage doorman would have done well to have started in the clairvoyance business himself: his prediction for the success of the show proved entirely accurate. Ettie and Jacob were a sensation. From the moment the lights were dimmed and Jacob drew back the veil covering the cabinet of mysteries, the audience were in the palm of his hand, ready to be amazed and bewildered.

  ‘Ladies and gentleman, I must ask that everyone remains silent until I say otherwise.’ Jacob stabbed a finger towards the gallery. ‘Even that gentleman up there in the front row who is missing his watch.’

  The thunderous applause in response to Jacob returning the duped man’s property, via a series of eagerly helpful hands, was well worth the florin Jacob had slipped the front-of-house usher for his help before the show in purloining the timepiece.

  ‘To begin the demonstration, ladies and gentleman, I shall walk amongst you. I will ask that the person whose shoulder I touch shall stand up and hold aloft a personal item. If it pleases the rest of those here present that that person be selected for the experiment, then a rousing “Yes” must follow. If that person is not to the liking of the rest of those present, then the response I would ask for is a loud “No”. Is that clear?’

  The audience roared their affirmation that all was indeed clear, then they sat on the edges of their seats in awe-struck anticipation of what was to come.

  Ettie sat impassively on the stage, her eyes fixed on an unseen distant image as she supposedly fell deeper into the trance in which Jacob had put her.

  It was fortunate that the theatre was so large, or they might have heard her muttering under her breath as she concentrated on making the links with Jacob’s patter and the code he had so painstakingly taught her over the months.

  With all the items spectacularly successfully identified, and Ettie even deeper in her state of trance, the spirits began to float and the messages began to flow. By now, even the most cynical member of the audience was captivated and enthralled by Ettie’s mysterious powers. She glowed with success, dazzled them with her loveliness, and shone with the power she had over the witnesses to her triumph.

  ‘You were magnificent!’ said Jacob, releasing the cork which left the bottle with an exuberant rush of exploding bubbles, hitting the far wall of the shabby little dressing room. ‘This, Ettie, is the first of many, many celebrations. We’ll go from success to success. We’ll get bigger rooms: a proper apartment with live-in staff. We’ll get you a dozen new hats. New everything.’

  Ettie sipped the fizzing wine and grinned. ‘I was good, wasn’t I?’ She closed her eyes and held her hands at arm’s length. ‘I can feel the spirits,’ she moaned sensually. ‘I can feel them. They are here. They are giving me a message. A message for someone called, Alfred. Is it Alfred? Or Albert? He has seen a loved one pass over recently. The departed one wants him to know that you are forgiven and that you mustn’t blame yourself for what happened…’ She flashed open her eyes and gave Jacob a cheeky grin. ‘Good, eh?’

  ‘Good indeed.’ Jacob clinked his glass against hers. ‘Carry on like this and you’ll be able to have everything your heart desires.’

  ‘Everything?’ Ettie looked him up and down and winked. ‘We’ll have to see about that, won’t we?’ Then she flicked her skirts to one side and went over to the window. She leaned on the window- ledge and looked down on the sc
ene in the street below. She drew in her breath with delighted excitement. ‘Oh, Jacob, come over here and look. Just look at them.’

  ‘That’s what I like about you, Ettie Wilkins,’ said Jacob, walking across the room to her. ‘You’re never afraid to express pleasure.’ He stood behind her and rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. ‘Now let’s see what’s caught your fancy this time?’ Ettie pointed down to the scene below, where a line of carriages was parading along the gaslit street past the appreciative men who strolled by or stood waiting in the shadows. A young woman, dressed in a striped scarlet and black costume, complete with matching feathered bonnet, driving a beautifully turned-outphaeton, headed the parade. To complement her outfit, the gleaming black pony carried a single scarlet plume, which bobbed between its pert little ears.

  Ettie sighed in undisguised admiration.

  ‘Ettie!’ Jacob seized her hard by the shoulders and spun her round to face him. ‘Those women. Surely you know what they are? They’re whores. They are out there parading for customers.’

  ‘I know,’ she said, turning round and gazing fixedly down at the brazen procession below. ‘They’re only earning a living – just like Ada and Flo and the other girls. And at least they’re honest about what they’re doing. And they’re not beholding to no one.’ She paused, then added, ‘Maybe they didn’t have brides in Paris or wherever it was you run away from.’

  Jacob frowned and went to sit at the narrow dressing-table. He smeared cream over his face, then began wiping off the thick theatrical make-up from his cheeks. When he spoke, his tone was flat and expressionless. ‘I need to go to the dressmaker tomorrow,’ he said, indicating the marbled, leather-bound notebook. ‘To collect some of my designs I’ve had made up for you.’ He lifted his chin and tilted his head from side to side, checking his reflection for any remains of powder or greasepaint. ‘I’m sending a letter to confirm your first performance in a private house for next month. You’ll need to look the part. Those clothes are all very well for the theatre, but for close-up work, you’ll need something decent.’