Miss Matty hooted with laughter. ‘What brass! You’re a little madam and no mistake. D’you think we’re so green as to believe a tale like that?’
‘Yes,’ Ralph said, seizing a lock of Lucetta’s hair and twisting it around his finger. ‘If that was true you wouldn’t have been running away to London. I think she’s a lady’s maid who stole from her employer, Aunt Matty. I reckon that the cops are looking for her as we
speak.’ He tugged at Lucetta’s hair making her yelp with pain. ‘That’s a fraction of what you’ll get if you don’t do as you’re told, my girl.’
Lucetta’s heart was thudding so loudly that she was certain they could hear it, but she met his gaze without blinking. ‘Let me go. You can do what you like but I won’t cry for mercy and I will hate you for the rest of my life.’
‘She has spirit, I’ll grant her that,’ Miss Matty said, taking a lit candle from the mantelshelf and lighting a cigarillo in its flame. ‘Shall you dine first, Ralph, or do you want to tame the little shrew before we go to table?’
Ralph released Lucetta so suddenly that she staggered against the wall. He selected a decanter from the table by his side and poured the amber liquid into three glasses. He handed one to Miss Matty. ‘I’ll savour the moment, Matty. We’ll drink to a night of unbridled pleasure.’ He thrust one of the glasses into Lucetta’s hand. ‘Drink this, my pet. It will help you to relax.’
Lucetta dashed the glass to the floor and it shattered into gleaming shards. ‘I don’t want a drink and I won’t eat. You can’t make me.’
‘You will eat and drink even if I have to tie you to the chair,’ Ralph said grimly. ‘Ring the bell for the maid, Aunt Matty. We don’t want any accidents involving broken glass.’ He picked up a sliver and held it close to Lucetta’s cheek. ‘It would be a pity to spoil that milkmaid skin with an ugly scar.’
Miss Matty reached out to tug at the bell pull and at the same time there was a loud clang from the doorbell. She smiled grimly. ‘Ah, good. Another client to
keep my girls occupied. I can see that this is going to be a very interesting evening, Ralph, my dear. Refill my glass, there’s a good fellow.’
Lucetta could hear voices in the hall, a deep male voice and the higher pitch of Cora’s response as she let the newcomer into the house. Lucetta seized her chance while Ralph had his back to her. She leapt from her seat and ran to the door, wrenching it open before either Ralph or Miss Matty had a chance to stop her. She raced along the hall, pushing past Cora and the astonished farmer’s man who gaped at her open-mouthed, and she made her escape with Ralph’s voice ringing in her ears as he ordered her to stop. She tore across the street and only narrowly missed being run down by a brewer’s dray. The stolid carthorse reared and whinnied in fright as she came close to being trampled beneath its hooves. Lucetta tripped over her long skirts, but managed somehow to regain her balance and kept going, dodging between knots of prostitutes standing about chatting as they waited for punters, and drunken men staggering from one public house to another at the start of a long night. She ran until she was out of breath and forced to a halt by a painful stitch in her side.
It had begun to rain. Steady drenching precipitation that trickled down her neck, soaking her to the skin and chilling her to the bone. She had neither bonnet nor shawl and in her headlong flight from Miss Matty’s house she had not had a chance to retrieve her valise. She took shelter in a shop doorway only to find that it was already occupied by an old woman who was snoring loudly with an empty gin bottle clasped in her
claw-like hand. Lucetta moved on to the butcher’s shop next door and huddled against the half-glassed door. The interior was in darkness but the smell of blood and sawdust made her stomach heave. She peered out through the curtain of rain and the oily shimmer of the gas lamps, but the street was deserted. She could hear the faint sound of raucous voices raised in song from a pub on the corner, and she caught the occasional whiff of stale beer and tobacco smoke as revellers went in and out, but to her relief none of them passed her way.
She sank down on her haunches, wrapping her arms around her knees in an attempt to keep warm. She could feel the leather purse lodged between her breasts but it was small comfort. The sum of money it contained was all that she had left in the world and would not sustain her for more than a few days. She had no clear idea where she was, but she knew that this was probably one of the roughest areas in the East End. She had stumbled into a dark underworld where robbery and murder were so commonplace that the news of them rarely hit the headlines. Life was cheap in this part of London and she was totally alone. She dared not fall asleep even though it was almost impossible to keep her eyes open.
Despite her determination to stay awake, Lucetta kept drifting off into an uneasy state between waking and dreaming. Once, in the dead of night, she thought she heard her mother’s voice telling her not to be afraid but when she opened her eyes there was nothing but darkness. She drifted back to sleep tormented by nightmares. She felt something soft brush across her face and a weight on her legs. She awakened with a muffled
cry to find herself looking into the luminous eyes of a feral cat. It hissed, arched its back and skittered sideways out into the street, leaving Lucetta wide awake and trembling. She raised her eyes to the sky and could have cried with relief to see the pale green streaks of dawn in the east. The rain had ceased but she was so cold that she could not feel her fingers or toes.
Scrambling to her feet she started walking in order to make the blood flow into her cramped limbs. She had no clear idea where she was going, but instinctively she headed south towards the river, as if the great Thames which had almost taken her life might provide her with the solution to all her problems. If she could reach her father’s warehouse at least she would be in familiar territory, and maybe just maybe she might find someone there who would recognise her. It was a slim hope but it gave her the strength to put one foot in front of the other despite her physical discomfort and the hunger gnawing at her belly. She was limping now as the blisters on her heels burst, causing her much pain but she kept on doggedly. The sun had risen and the city was slowly coming back to life. Men hurried past her on their way to the docks or the manufactories down by the river. Costermongers pushed their barrows towards the markets and horse-drawn vehicles rumbled past her as she made her way down Leman Street. She could smell roasting coffee beans and the mixed odours emanating from the warehouses that surrounded the docks: cow horn, spices and the burnt sugar smell of molasses all mingled with the stench from the sewers and coal dust from the barges unloading at the wharves.
She had wrinkled her nose at this heady mixture when she had visited her father’s warehouse as a child, and the memories of that happier time brought tears to her eyes. She stopped, leaning against a lamp post as a wave of faintness made the pavement and buildings swim in dizzying circles before her eyes.
‘Are you all right, my dear?’
Lucetta focused with difficulty on the bewhiskered face of an elderly gentleman dressed in sombre black. ‘I think so, sir,’ she murmured.
He proffered his arm. ‘You look to be in need of sustenance. I can help if you will let me.’
She eyed him suspiciously. ‘How so, sir?’
He smiled and she realised that his eyes were infinitely wise and kind. ‘Come with me. There is a soup kitchen close by where you will be able to rest and have some food.’
‘And what is in it for you, may I ask?’ Lucetta was horrified to hear the words spill from her lips, but she was not going to be caught so easily this time.
‘I am doing what He would want me to do.’ He raised his eyes to heaven and smiled. ‘Come. There is nothing to fear.’
She could not doubt his sincerity and Lucetta allowed the gentleman to lead her the short way to a dreary-looking building down a side street. He opened the door and as he ushered her inside she breathed in the welcoming aroma of hot tea and freshly baked bread.
‘They will look after you here.’ He made to leave but Lucetta caught him by the sleeve.
‘You’re very kind, sir. Might I know your name?’
‘I’m William Booth. God bless you, my dear,’ he said, doffing his hat. ‘If you feel so inclined you will be more than welcome at any of our meetings. Ask anyone here and they will tell you where to find me should you need help or comfort.’
Lucetta watched him leave with a sigh of regret. She had known him for a few minutes but she felt that she could trust him with her life. She sighed, turning her attention to stare round the large room where ragged men and women sat on benches at trestle tables. They hunched over their food, stuffing bread and jam into their mouths and washing it down with mugs of strong tea which was served from a counter at the back of the room. Lucetta was not too proud to join the queue and her mouth watered at the sight of the food. As she took the plate of bread scraped with margarine and a generous helping of plum jam, she remembered a time when she would have turned her nose up at such food. Now it looked like manna from heaven and she smiled gratefully as she accepted a thick china mug of tea laced with two spoonfuls of sugar. She moved away, searching for a spare seat at one of the tables, and found one next to a shaggy-haired man who sat with his back to her. There was little enough room and she cleared her throat. ‘Excuse me, mister. Would you mind moving up a bit?’
Slowly, he turned his head to look at her. Despite his haggard appearance and unkempt beard, his eyes gave him away and they stared at each other in disbelief.
‘Lennie! It is you, isn’t it?’
Guthrie blinked and his red-rimmed eyes focused on her with difficulty. ‘Lucy?’
She glanced around, realising that many heads had turned their way, and she sat down hastily. ‘Yes, it’s me, Lennie. But what brings you here and where is Stranks?’ She glanced nervously over her shoulder, half expecting to see him queuing for food.
‘In jail,’ Guthrie muttered, shaking his head. ‘Got caught red-handed and sent down for life. Penal servitude he got and was lucky to escape the hangman’s noose.’
Lucetta thought it was a sentence well deserved, but she did not want to upset Guthrie by saying so. He looked ill and his ragged clothes hung off him, making him look like a scarecrow whose stuffing had been taken for nesting material by the birds. ‘How have you been managing on your own?’ she asked, sipping her tea.
Guthrie hunched his shoulders, staring down at his empty plate. ‘Why would you care what happens to me? We treated you bad, Lucy. I ain’t proud of what we done.’
‘You helped me to escape. I’ll never forget that. If
you’d followed his instructions I’d have ended up on the streets or worse.’
He shot her a sideways glance. ‘You don’t look as though you’ve fared much better, girl. What happened to you?’
Lucetta bit hungrily into the doorstep of bread and jam. She chewed and swallowed, closing her eyes as she savoured the food. In the past she had eaten some of the finest food that the best chefs could produce, but nothing had ever tasted as wonderful as this humble fare. She drank more of the strong sweet tea before answering. ‘It’s a long story, Lennie. I’ve had a bit of bad luck, that’s all.’
‘Looks like you was doing all right until then. Them duds cost more than a bob or two.’ He raised his head to glare at the men seated opposite them. ‘And you lot can keep your maulers to yourselves, if you takes my meaning.’
The unkempt, unshaven men stared down at their food, muttering into their beards. Lucetta shuddered as she saw a flea clinging to the eyebrow of the man seated directly opposite her. She crammed the last of her meal into her mouth and scrambled to her feet. ‘I think I’d best leave now. Are you coming with me, Lennie?’
He reached for his stick, grimacing with apparent pain as he swung his gammy leg over the bench. ‘Where are you going?’
She wanted to help him up but she did not wish to embarrass him in front of his peers. ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered, ‘but perhaps we should get out of here. I think you may have upset a few people.’
A twisted grin curved Guthrie’s mouth and his eyes lit with a flash of amusement. ‘They ain’t people, ducks. These here are animals fit only to live in the zoo.’ He edged towards the street door. ‘But you’re right, girl. It don’t do to get on the wrong side of them as you might meet in a dark alley. They’d slit your gizzard for a ha’p’orth of baccy or a penn’orth of grog, and them duds of yours would fetch a fair amount in a dolly shop and no questions asked. We’d best get out of here.’
Taking her by the elbow, he hustled her out of the soup kitchen. ‘You look done in,’ he said. ‘Where are you dossing down?’
Lucetta smiled tiredly. ‘Last night it was in a shop doorway. The truth is that I’ve nowhere to go, Lennie. I’ve made a real mess of things.’
He glanced warily over his shoulder as the door to the soup kitchen opened and a man lumbered out into the street. ‘I rent the old place, girl. It ain’t much but you’re welcome to stay as long as you want.’
Lucetta sensed that they were being watched and she slipped her hand through his arm. ‘I’d be grateful for a roof over my head, just until I find employment somewhere. I can pay something towards the rent.’
‘Who’d have thought it,’ Guthrie wheezed. ‘It’s a far cry from them days in Bali when you was the rich man’s daughter and we planned to hold you for ransom.’
‘I’m no longer that girl,’ Lucetta said, slowing her pace to keep in step with his awkward gait. ‘Lucetta Froy is dead and buried. I go by the name you gave me now. I’m Lucy Guthrie.’
Lennie sniffed and wiped his nose on his coat sleeve. ‘That touches me to the heart, girl. Here am I, a real villain who did you wrong and you takes me name. I call that a real Christian thing to do, and I’d be proud to have you as me daughter.’
‘Then perhaps that is what we should tell anyone who asks,’ Lucetta said thoughtfully. ‘It would be safer for both of us.’
He nodded wordlessly, and they ambled on through the city streets, passing the Royal Mint and skirting the perimeter of the Tower of London until they came to Trinity Square. In the middle of the street a group of carrion crows were feasting off the carcase of a dead rat, and Guthrie let out a roar, hobbling into the road and waving his arms like a madman.