A Wanton Tale (19 page)

‘I want to know what happened to me daughter.’ Demanded Charlie who was becoming disturbed by thoughts of his home and family.

Suddenly, he grabbed Freddie by the throat.

‘Let go of me! You’ve never cared about her before. Why should I know anything?’

The sudden aggression scared Freddie. Charlie was younger and stronger than him. Violence and prison justice was rife. Freddie wanted to get out of jail in one piece when he had done his time. Interfering with children was becoming a crime reviled by more and more people. He knew that there was a real risk of being seriously hurt, if not killed, if anybody found out about his past.

He suspected that Charlie knew something of the events that led Alice to be in their brothel, but he was sure that he didn’t know the full truth. Freddie decided that a sensible line of defence would be to blame Betsy and Alice’s mother Lottie.

‘Do
you
not know that your drunken wife sold your daughter for a fiver?’

‘You what?’ Snapped Charlie, gripping Freddie’s throat even tighter. ‘She came to you as a domestic. Why did your missus pay for her then?’

Freddie had been dreaming of giant rats and spiders all night, his hands were shaking, he needed a drink and these feelings wouldn’t go away. He didn’t like the look on Charlie’s face. He felt weak but knew how to twist everything to put the onus on Betsy.

‘Don’t blame me,’ he spluttered, ‘I didn’t make the arrangement, it was my Betsy who was in cahoots with your scheming wife. Bitches they are women! Your daughter was only with us for a week and she buggered off.’ He lied. ‘Betsy was good to her, showed her how to keep house, gave her good boots and frocks and fed her well. It came as a big surprise to me when I heard she’d gone.’

‘Gone?’

‘You know, fucked off. I have it from a good authority that she ran away with circus criminals. She was seen with clowns and jugglers, running through the streets like a wild woman.’ Embellished Freddie, gaining confidence as Charlie eased his hold on him.

‘You mean she ran away with the circus?’

‘Yes, ungrateful bitch wasn’t she? Betsy gave your Lottie a fiver because she felt sorry for you all. And a wasted fiver, it was.’

‘You and that old hag run a whore house. Since when did she feel sorry for anyone?’

‘My Betsy’s got a heart of gold underneath it all.’ Sadly, Freddie believed his own lies.

‘It’s starting to come to me Freddie you evil bastard. You had it arranged for her to go with men for money. A lot of money. Do you know how old she is?’

By now Charlie had him by the scruff of the neck and the throat.

‘I was dead against it Charlie, I would have stopped it, honest I would.’ Spluttering and shaking as he spoke. ‘She ran away. Gone.’

He was holding his cell mate tightly. Their noise was beginning to attract the attention of others on the landing. Freddie could hardly get his breath. Charlie’s anger was such that his face was drained of colour.

‘Please, Charlie, please don’t kill me. Nobody ever touched her. Please don’t kill me.’ Pleaded Freddie. ‘You’ll swing for murder, I would never have let anything bad happen to her. Honest.’

Freddie had spent most of his life living a lie, ducking and diving, twisting and turning. He was well practiced and incredibly, he sounded convincing.

Charlie let him go, the cell went quiet, the bad feeling between the men was palpable. Charlie was still not satisfied.

‘I’ll get to the truth, so help me, I’ll knock it out of you.’

As the warder approached, Charlie punched Freddie in the stomach. Winded, he landed on his bed.

The door was unlocked and the warden bawled. ‘Slop out’.

Anxious to get out of Charlie’s grasp, Freddie staggered across the cell and grabbed their pot to swill in the latrines. Soon they would be put to work for the day, picking oakum.

Oakum is a preparation of tarred fibre used in shipbuilding, for caulking or packing the joints of timbers in wooden vessels. Prisoners were given quantities of old rope, which they had to untwist into many corkscrew strands. They then had to take these individual strands and unroll them, usually by rolling them on their knee using their hands until the mesh became loose. Apart from this repetitive, tedious work, the inmates were taught a rudimentary trade skill which would, hopefully, stand them in good stead on their release. It was a long day and they worked in silence.

Betsy was swinging her little beaded bag as she walked towards the boarding house, she was determined to find Liz. In her scheming mind she also hoped to find the policeman whose regular beat covered Duke Street. She had it rehearsed in her mind what she would say to the local bobby about Lily. She really had it in for her now.

She couldn’t believe her luck, he was walking straight towards her. It was the tall one with the waxed moustache. He knew Betsy well. He had been grateful for the money she had given him in return for turning a blind eye to her activities. An occasional glass of brandy was always welcome on a cold winter’s night.

He bid her a cheery, ‘Good afternoon Mrs. Hale.’

‘I have some information for you constable which may be of interest. There is all this talk of young girls working in brothels. I think it’s terrible, poor children.’ Betsy looked suitably horrified. ‘Now, I have heard that there is a young girl being held in Seymour Street, number 55, she’s being forced to take men against her will.’

She added, ‘It’s only gossip but gossip often turns out to be right. And in that property there are three evil bitches, I hear they are selling a juvenile!’ She gave the policeman a knowing look and shook her head in disgust then started to walk away, leaving the policeman scratching his head.

The constable asked her for more information, Betsy replied, ‘That is all I know constable, good afternoon to you.’

The bobby beamed, this was excellent information. He was sure that the ‘tip off’ from the ‘old bag swinger’ might do him some good with his sergeant.

It didn’t take long for Betsy to find Liz’s lodgings, breathing heavily she climbed the stairs. As she approached her room a red faced man was being shown out by an attractive woman. Once in her room, she had a chance to weigh up the young woman. Betsy’s reputation had preceded her and Liz had already guessed who she was.

Liz wasn’t as young as the girls Betsy usually sought, but she was solid and good looking in a handsome sort of way. ‘Not like them sickly bitches I had before.’ Thought Betsy.

In fact, Betsy found herself becoming excited at the sight of the scantily dressed, attractive, woman before her.

Liz knew from Betsy’s manner, that she was trying to hide her sexual interests. Surprised at the reaction from a woman such as Betsy, Liz explained that she went with men and women. Betsy could not contain herself.

She handed over the ten shillings Liz requested to allow the older woman free rein on her.

She shifted on the bed and smiled at Betsy. ‘I have heard that you run a brothel in the city. It is fortuitous that you came here as I was planning to approach you.’ She quietly laughed and began kissing Betsy. The older woman’s body suddenly ached to touch her.

Liz removed her dress and allowed Betsy to feel her naked body.

‘Is this what you like?’ Asked Liz.

‘Yes.’ Whispered Betsy breathlessly, her eyes were fixed on Liz.

Betsy was surprised at herself for reacting the way she had. After all she hadn’t come to sample the goods.

After both women were satisfied, Betsy got dressed, ‘Why did you laugh when I asked to see you frigging yourself?’

‘When I was a youngster, my mother said I would die in a madhouse or with consumption if I did this.’

Betsy’s dark eyes were glinting in the candlelight. ‘That can’t be right, you look too well on it Dearie, radiant in fact.’

‘I came from a good family background. But from an early age, I enjoyed my body’s sensations. Many times my mother had called up the stairs, What is wrong with you?’

Trying to control my breath I would reply, ‘Just a bad dream.’

Eventually my mother burst open the door and caught me.

I remember she said, ‘ I know full well what you are doing in there. You will make yourself ill.’

‘No I won’t!’ I snapped.

‘Yes you will!’ She roared. ‘Look at me full in the face, you’ve been at that filthy trick since you were twelve and here you are at your age with no man and still a burden on me.’

‘My mother thought that I should have been married long ago and wondered why I had no interest in men. I had been introduced to several and was deliberately rude to them. My mother thought that I should be punished for my excessive and ‘strange’ sexual emotion. The family doctor said I was a nymphomaniac, and that such women were a threat to society. According to him women ‘like me’ were thought to be mentally ill. He warned that being a spinster who often behaved outside of the social norm was likely to lead to me becoming a lesbian.

I was one of many women who had been admitted to an asylum where part of my treatment would be to encounter male interaction. The staff felt that I would be cured by repeated sexual liaisons with men. They felt that this would restore my feminine ideal.

For two years I was incessantly raped. I don’t know who was my first, some say it was the doctor, some even say that it was a nurse with some medical implement. They had put me to sleep so I have no recollection of that day.

I do remember dozens of men coming to me. It was always the same routine. The nurse would take me into a small room and shut the curtains. She’d tell me to undress and wait. Men would arrive and I would oblige them. They were cold and brutal. I hated them, but strangely, I accepted the physical violation as a normal part of my day. I didn’t even know or care who these men were.

Eventually, they felt I’d had sufficient exposure to men. I was released but I had been led down a path of immorality by the very people who had been charged to help me. My mother made me pay a huge price for just being different and flouting social convention. But now I can make my own decisions.’

At first, Betsy thought that Liz was a bit old. However, a woman in her late twenties would be an acquired taste and would attract a certain type of punter, both male
and
female. Nevertheless, Betsy’s mind was made up. She trusted her own judgment which had served her well for many years. She was satisfied that Liz would be good for her business. She also hoped to form a relationship with her to fulfil her own licentious needs.

Liz had been operating in the boarding house to pay her rent and feed herself. She was grateful to be offered a place by Betsy. Her terms sounded attractive and she knew she couldn’t go back to her mother.

She was not forced into working for Betsy. It was her who had chosen an alternative lifestyle.

Betsy was satisfied that she had found the right girl. Whether Freddie liked it or not didn’t come into it. She had planned to take him back when he came out of jail, but on new terms.

The red faced policemen were politely being shown the door at Lily’s house. Lily and the girls had flirted with the men and had learned the source of the information that led to the search.

Lily was absolutely furious when she discovered that Betsy was behind it. The woman was trouble and they put nothing past her.

‘How dare she make these accusations against me, there’s no under age girl living under my roof, never has been and never will be.’ Said Lily firmly.

‘I have it from a good source that is not the case, and from now on I shall be keeping an eye on you.’

‘You’ve no need constable. If I were you, I’d be hunting down a man called Maurice Jones. That’s if Jones is his real name, talks posh and comes from Cheshire. Drinks in the Vines and goes to the Chinese place.’ She then added scathingly, ‘He’s the one you should be looking for. If it’s young Alice Boyle you’re concerned about, he might know of her whereabouts. He was the man who raped her when she was only twelve.’ Added Lily with venom in her voice. ‘It happened in Betsy Hale’s place!’

The policemen left. They were most disappointed that were unable to prove their case.

Lily always regretted not helping Alice. At the time, she was too busy being jealous of the money, she saw her more as an interloper than a victim. Both she and the others wished that they had stopped Betsy and Freddie. Her outburst today was futile and she knew it was too late. She had an idea that Maurice had left town and Betsy and Freddie had, as usual, slithered out of it.

Jim was now settled in Sally’s home. He was happy there, but knew he had to behave himself. Other children tried to influence him because ‘he was a good little thief,’ but he had promised not to do it again.

He would never let Sally down, he was grateful for a warm comfortable bed, there was always a loaf of bread on the table. The Barnado’s women had returned to see Jim in his new environment. They were satisfied that Sally would make a good guardian. They had a long chat again over a cup of tea.

Sally was most surprised to learn that Alice was not in Betsy’s house. Rachel and Ruby’s disappearance remained a mystery. All Sally could do was get on with her life, she had Jim to care for and that was more than enough.

‘The only family he has left is his Aunty Margaret and his sister Jessie who lives with her. She is the youngest sister, the one nearest his age, she’s only six. I will get in touch with Margaret, tell her what’s been going on. I expect she will want Jim to see Jessie some time, he is very fond of her.’

‘You are so kind Mrs. Walsh, thank you.’ Said the visitor, she then turned to Jim. ‘Please be good for Mrs. Walsh Jim.

‘Aunty Sally.’ Corrected Jim with a smile. The women said goodbye and left. They were satisfied that Jim was now in a good home.

‘Where did Rachel and Ruby go?’ Asked Jim after the women had gone.

Sally felt awkward. She realised that he was a sensitive boy and would need to be pacified. She was surprised that he didn’t ask about his mother, so she decided not to mention her.

‘I am sorry, but I don’t know where they are, the young woman who took them has never been seen in the street before nor since. I expect they will come back one day.’ Jim remained quiet.