“An’ good at it,” Madge agreed, taking another slurp.
“Hope they catch that bastard who killed her,” Emily said fiercely.
Madge breathed out a long sigh.
“And poor Nora,” Charlotte put in with a shiver. “Did you know Nora?”
“Did you?” Madge asked, looking at her narrowly.
“No. What was she like?”
“Pretty. Little, sort o’ skinny for some tastes.”
Considering Madge’s twenty stone that remark was open to personal interpretation. Charlotte felt a momentary desire to giggle, and controlled it only with an effort.
“But good at it?” she asked, hiccuping.
“Oh yes!” Madge agreed. “Though some says as she were gonner quit and get married.”
“Do you think that’s true?” Tallulah spoke for the first time, her voice hesitant, high in the back of her throat.
“Mebbe.” Madge stopped. “Saw ’er around wi’ Johnny Voss. ’E weren’t bad orff. Could ’a’ married ’er, I s’pose. Although ’e were said ter be keen on Ella Baker, over in Myrdle Street. Mebbe ’e switched ter Nora. Edie said she seen Nora kiss ’im good-night abaht a couple a’ weeks ago.”
“I’ve kissed people good-night,” Tallulah said in response. “That didn’t mean they were going to marry me.”
“Did you now.” Madge looked at her more closely. “ ’Ow long yer bin in the trade, duck? Yer wanna watch yerself. This in’t no place for beginners!”
“I’m … I’m not a beginner,” Tallulah said defensively, then stopped with a little squeak of pain as Emily kicked her under the table.
“If yer kissin’ people, y’are.” Madge stated it as an unarguable fact. “Kissin’ is fer family, people as yer care abaht. Customers get wot they paid fer, nothin’ more. Yer gotta keep summink as is real, summink as is yer own an’ can’t be bought.”
Tallulah stared at her, two bright specks of color in her cheeks.
“Yer need someone ter look aht fer yer, teach yer ’ow ter be’ave,” Madge said gently. “Take the room, an’ I’ll teach yer.”
Tallulah was speechless. The thoughts racing through her mind could only be guessed at.
“Thank you,” Charlotte said quickly. “That’s very kind of you. That might be a very good idea. We could always look elsewhere. There must be other places in the neighborhood. I suppose poor Nora’s room is to let now?”
“I in’t ’eard,” Madge replied. “But yer could ask. If it’s gorn, yer could go an’ ask Ma Baines over on Chicksand Street. She’s usually got summink free. In’t the best, but yer could take it, and then w’en summink better comes up, yer’d be placed ter move on, like. She in’t bin ’ere all that long, but I ’eard say she in’t bad. Gotta get all yer own clothes. Got yer own, ’ave yer?”
“M-my own clothes?” Tallulah stammered.
“Yeah. Lor’, you are the beginner, in’t yer?” Madge shook her head. “Still, yer in’t got a bad face. Nice ’air. We’ll make summink of yer yet.” She patted her on the hand comfortingly, then she looked at Charlotte and Emily in turn. “You two can look arter yerselves.” She regarded Charlotte. “You got a bit o’ flesh on yer. Yer’ll do. An’ lots o’ ’air. Yer face in’t bad.”
“Thank you,” Charlotte said a trifle dryly.
Madge was impervious to sarcasm. She looked Emily up and down.
“Yer not so good, bit thin, but yer got a nice enough face, nice skin. An’ men always like yeller ’air, ’specially wot curls like yours do. Look like yer got a bit o’ spark too. You’ll do.”
“Can you tell us where to find this Ma Baines?” Emily ignored the personal assessment and returned to the point.
“Yeah, course I can,” Madge responded. “Twenty-one Chicksand Street. Next one up towards Mile End. Anyone will tell yer.”
It looked as if they were about to be dismissed any moment, and they had learned too little to give up.
“Ada and Nora knew each other,” Charlotte plunged on. “Were they at all alike? Did they have friends in common?”
Madge blinked. “W’y the ’ell der you care?”
“Because I don’t want to get my fingers and toes broken and end up strangled with my own stockings,” Charlotte answered tersely. “If there’s some lunatic around here, I want to know what sort of women he picks on, so I can be a different sort.”
“ ’E picks on one sort o’ woman, duck,” Madge said wearily. “The sort o’ woman wot sells theirselves to any man wot ’as the money, ’cos she needs ter eat an’ feed ’er kids, or ’cos she don’ wanna work in the watch factories an’ end up wi’ phossie jaw an’ ’er face ’alf rotted off, or in a sweatshop stitchin’ shirts all day an’ ’alf the night for too little money ter feed a rat! Layin’ on yer back is easy money, while it lasts.” She poured more tea from the pot into the mug, and refilled the others, looking hopefully at Emily.
Emily topped them up again with whiskey.
“Ta,” Madge acknowledged it.
“Course there is danger,” she went on. “If yer wanted life wi’out danger yer should ’a’ bin born rich. Yer’ll mebbe end up wi’ a disease, or mebbe not. Yer’ll get beaten now an’ agin, slashed if yer luck runs aht. Yer’ll get so yer never wants ter see another man in all yer born days.”
She sniffed. “But yer’ll not be ’ungry, and yer’ll not be cold once yer orff the streets an’ inside. An’ yer’ll ’ave a few good laughs!” She sighed and sipped her tea. “ ’Ad some good times, we did, Nora an’ Rosie and Ada and me. Tol’ each other stories an’ pretended we was all fine ladies.” She sniffed. “I ’member one summer evenin’ we took orff an’ went up the river in one o’ them pleasure boats, just like anyone. All dressed up, we was. Ate ’ot eel pies and sugared fruit, an’ drank peppermint.”
“That must have been good,” Charlotte said quietly, imagining them, even though she did not know their faces.
“Yeah, it were,” Madge said dreamily, the tears brimming her eyes. “An’ we tol’ each other ghost stories sometimes. Scared ourselves silly, we did. Course there was the bad times too. But then I s’pose it’s them ’ard times as tells yer ’oo yer friends is.” She sniffed again and wiped her hand over her cheeks.
“That’s true,” Emily agreed. “I’m sorry about Ada. I hope they catch whoever did it.”
“Geez, why should they?” Madge said miserably. “They never caught the Ripper. Why should they catch this one?”
Tallulah shivered. Two years afterwards, his name still chilled the body and sent the mind stiff with fear.
Charlotte found herself cold as well, even with the tea and whiskey inside her, and the heat of the small, closed kitchen. There was no other sound in the house. All the women were sleeping after their night’s work, bodies exhausted, used by strangers to relieve their needs without love, without kisses, as one might use a public convenience.
She looked at Tallulah and saw a whole new comprehension dawning in her face. She had seen one new world with Jago, feeding the poor, the respectable women, downtrodden by hunger, cold and anxiety. This was another world, altogether darker, with different pains, different fears.
“Do you get many gentlemen down here?” she asked suddenly, the words coming out jerkily, as if speaking them hurt her.
“Men wi’ money?” Madge laughed. “Look, duck, any man’s money is as good as any other.”
“But do you?” Tallulah insisted, her face tense, her eyes on Madge’s.
“Not often, why? Yer like gentlemen, yer should go up west. ’Aymarket, Piccadilly, that way. Cost yer ter rent rooms by the hour, though, an’ competition’s ’igh. Yer’d be better ’ere, beginners like you are. I’ll look after yer.”
Tallulah was aware of the gentleness in the older woman and it touched her unexpectedly. Charlotte could see it in her face.
“I … I just wondered,” she said unhappily, looking down at the table.
“Sometimes,” Madge replied, watching her.
“Was it a gentleman who killed Ada?” Tallulah would not give up. Her slender fingers were clenched around
