Flesh Failure (4 page)

“Not a palace, but me and my mates all have our own beds at night. That's a luxury not all can boast of.”

“I can't,” I said.

“You poor dear. What happened to you?”

“I'm not really sure. Something bad and when I woke up, I was in the park.”

“You were mugged at Regent's Park? You're lucky you weren't killed. There's been some murders there as well as here.”

“I was likely left for dead.”

“Let me see your face, your hands…”

Charlotte's face froze in horror as she stared at my wrists. I didn't bother trying to hide them.

“I can't imagine the pain, you poor dear,” she said, inspecting the stitches that were seeping with green pus. “You need some peroxide. I know about infections. Us girls always have peroxide even if we have to trade for it.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You smell like death. Take off those clothes and we'll leave them out for some other poor soul. You can wear one of my old rags until you earn money for your own.”

“I don't know if that's a good idea,” I mumbled but she was already unfastening the buttons down my back. She had trouble wrestling with the stubborn final ones but at last, the dress was opened.

“Oh my,” she gasped. I didn't turn around.

“You don't have to do it. Put your dress out for me and turn away.”

“But those wounds. They need to be treated,” she whispered.

“I will do it myself,” I said firmly.

She walked in front of me, her face stern, her eyes staring into mine. “I'll help you. You didn't ask for this to happen to you, whatever it was.”

I pulled off the dress while she watched in horror as bits of my body emerged. The dress fell like a discarded cocoon and I stood naked in front of her. She dry heaved into her hands and then composed herself. With tears dripping down her face, she stumbled over to where the bottle of peroxide sat. She found a rag and began the long, painful task of attempting to administer to my wounds. Of course, there wasn't enough peroxide and she attempted to clean the festering stitches with whatever stale water was left in jugs around the room.

“There is nothing more to do,” I told her as she sobbed with frustration. “Don't worry. Help me get dressed.”

She pulled her frock over me. It was too small as she was a wee thing and I was above average in height. At last, she made it work somehow with the addition of several scarves. She found a black one and handed it to me.

“For your head,” she said.

I nodded, understanding what she really meant.

She gathered up my dress and threw it out the front door. Within seconds, people descended on it, scrambling for purchase like vultures. Charlotte shut the door again.

“It will go to good use, if they don't destroy it first.”

She sat down heavily on one of the beds.

“Sit down. What is your name, anyway?” she asked.

“Agatha,” I replied. Again, I wasn't sure which lifetime the name came from.

“Well, Agatha, I'm Charlotte. We're going to have to figure out how to get you to earn a living. You can't be turning tricks like that so we have to figure out a plan. In the meantime, I have something special.” She stood up and went over to one of the clothing heaps. She dug around for a few minutes until she returned with a bottle and a bag.

“Absinthe,” she said as she produced two glasses, an absinthe spoon, sugar cubes and matches. “It was special, given to me by a rather kind gentleman who took a fancy to me for many months. Of course, the good ones never last. Never.” She began the ritual of preparing the drink. I vaguely remembered seeing it done before. Somewhere dark. Somewhere with a lot of bottles and glass. Red velvet cushions. Smokey air. Thick green curtains lining the walls.

“He was rather young for the men that come to the likes of us. He was also very handsome. I could never understand why he didn't have a lady friend, a countess, he was that charming. He treated me to the luxuries of a lady. Perfumed baths and pretty clothes. That's how I have so many dresses. He never demanded anything odd, nothing like some of those bastards.” She shuddered. “But one day I realized I hadn't seen him for a while. I heard from one of the other girls that he had been shot by robbers in his carriage one night. Just like that.”

“A shame.”

“Really. That was a terrible time for me. Made me wonder if there's any good in the world ever.”

“I wonder…”

“No, I know. There isn't really. But we can be kind to each other. I see you're in trouble and I want to help, like Freddie had helped me not feel dirty.”

Charlotte held one of the prepared absinthe glasses up to me and I took it. She drank hers in little sips, suddenly quiet as she savoured the flavours.

I drank mine, quickly, and in three gulps.

“My,” she said.

“I needed it,” I told her. The warmth of the liquid seeped through me. At first my wounds throbbed even more painfully than they had when the peroxide was poured over them. But then a warm flush weaved through them and I relaxed into the gentle pulse of my blood flowing.

For that was the real miracle, wasn't it? That my blood flowed despite being comprised of multiple body parts.

I remembered him boasting to the room of people about me, how he had created a being. I lay on cold metal table under a sheet of sorts. A bright light was warming me. His voice, that accent, that smugness. How I hated him.

“I've done it. I followed the fictions of Shelley, the renderings of da Vinci, important publishings from Cavendish, Galvani and others and combined it with modern science. You will see, gentlemen, that I've created my own creature. A woman who will obey our every command.”

He lifted the sheet. Although my eyes were open and could see, my body couldn't move. In fact, I couldn't even blink. I saw men in their Sunday best with cloaks around their shoulders standing around me, staring at me and murmuring to each other. Their breath was foggy in the crisp air. The ceiling was far away, a dome. A church perhaps. Or perhaps a hospital. Maybe I was in London Hospital, in the secret experiments room that I'd heard about.

“She appears dead,” he continued, that bastard. “That is because, she is.”

“Nonsense,” a voice said. “She can see. She is looking at me right now.”

“Mere reflexes. A brain that is active but her body still sleeps. She needs to be animated to full potential.”

His footsteps went around behind me. I braced myself as I heard clicks and clacks. Before long, an excruciating pain surged through me. I jumped.

“Are you okay?” Charlotte asked me, shaking me from my reverie.

“Sorry. I was thinking.”

“About your accident?” She was preparing two more glasses of absinthe.

“Perhaps. I'm not sure.” I stared down at my hands. In the dimness of the lanterns, they didn't seem as horrific as they did in the light. The glow from the lanterns swelled, giving Charlotte's face an angelic sheen that contradicted her dirt-smeared face and matted hair.

The new clothes were okay but rather itchy since they didn't fit right. I preferred the loose flow of the gypsy gear but this would have to do.

“So what are we going to do with you?” Charlotte asked, staring intensely at me while she sipped on her absinthe. Her eyes were dark, her mouth had a slight pout to it. I wondered how many men had kissed that mouth, had been cruel to her face, had tormented her body with their greedy desires.

“I don't know.”

“What can you do? Can you sing? Dance?”

“I'm too weak. I'm not well,” I said. “This drink is making me feel good but when it's gone, I will be in agony once more.”

“Oh…it's a shame we can't find a doctor for you. But one step at a time. First, we need to get you making some money. You can stay with us but you gotta pay too.”

“Yes…yes. I appreciate it. I know it won't be for long.”

“Can you juggle?”

“No.”

“Maybe…” Charlotte took another sip of her drink and cleared her throat. “Maybe…well, you know how they had the Elephant Man, just down the street there really.”

“Yes?”

“Maybe, we could show you off and people would pay to see you?” Charlotte asked.

I stood up. My stomach rolled so violently that I feared I would lose the precious absinthe.

“I'm a freak? An oddity? I'm that ugly?” I cried out. “Where's a mirror? Let me see for myself.”

“We don't have…” Charlotte said, stepping back in fear. I stomped around the room, flinging clothes and knickknacks until I found a small oval hand mirror, under a pillow on one of the other beds. I went over to one of the lanterns and squinted at myself, trying to see. It was clear in the flickering of the light that my face was far worse than I had dared to dream. The scars were everywhere, weeping their thick green tears across my cheeks, around my eyes, my forehead. I held the little mirror at so many angles, trying to gauge how hideous I truly was.

“Oh…” I sighed and returned the mirror under the pillow. “What am I going to do? No, I can't be a freak. There's no one to protect me. No one to stop me from being robbed or killed.”

“I could…”

“No…I won't do it.”

Charlotte held up her bottle of absinthe. “Enough for two more, we might as well.”

“Yes, we might as well.”

I watched her prepare the next round of absinthe. My rage dissipated as another rush of the green fairy flooded my system. Charlotte's head was framed in a halo. An angel bestowing the liquid of kindness to a stranger. Guilt at my arrogance haunted me. I thought about the gypsies and their caravans.

“Do you know much about fortune telling?” I asked her.

“A bit, like palm reading and the like?” Charlotte asked. “Do you?”

“No, I don't know anything about it. But, I know that it isn't always a miracle, that most of the time the fortune-tellers make it up. I don't know how they do it enough to make the person believe.”

“It's probably no different than what I do. Give the customer what he wants. They want Prince Charming, he's coming their way. They want money, marry a rich man.” Charlotte laughed.

“But I need a hook. Should I read palms?”

“No. Believe me, the less you have to touch another filthy creature, the better.”

“Cards? Do you know the cards?”

“I do know a bit about the cards. I don't have any…but maybe I could find some. I'll keep my eye out when I go out in a bit and see if I can't find you cards from one of the gypsies.”

“Should I come with you?”

“No, you need to rest.” Charlotte drank the last of her absinthe. “I'm going out there, I'll find cards and more peroxide. I'm certain the provider will make it happen for us both.”

“And your roommates?”

“I'll tell them. I know where they are. They won't mind. We all help each other, especially with the murders and all.”

“Murders too…”

“Regent's Park, Whitechapel…there have been a strange amount.”

Charlotte turned off one of the lanterns.

“If you wish to sleep, you can turn this one off too,” she said. She gathered up her shawl and sprayed herself with perfume.

“Good night,” I said to her as she left.

Once she was gone, I lay down on her bed. My body floated, high on pillows of numbness and exhaustion. My visions urged me that I needed to find electricity but not tonight. If I could lie down and relax until morning, then it would be easier to find. The lightning had helped me remember things. The sparking of life was necessary for me to gather more strength.

I let the darkness bathe me. Shadows from the lantern danced on the walls, forming spiky-limbed creatures that leaped from spot to spot. They hopped around, almost like they were performing for me. I began to sing an old lullaby and the flames flickered.

Once I found electricity, then what would I do? Would it be wise to stay with the ladies in their quarters? It might be wise, it might be foolish. The idea of finding money was pressing. For money would buy me a room or even a ticket to somewhere else. Money would buy me clothes that fit and shoes that didn't hurt.

What were the tricks of the fortune-tellers? My head spun as the green fairy worked her magic. I drifted off to sleep.

When I woke the next morning, the room was dark but there were cracks of light seeping in through the uneven sides of the door. Soon my eyes adjusted to the dimness and I saw that Charlotte had climbed in beside me and there were other women in the other beds.

My head pounded and my body ached. It seemed like every stitch in my body screamed out. I moaned with agony. Charlotte burst awake.

“What's wrong? Are you in pain?” She reached over to the table to turn up the lantern. Her eyes were dark shadows blinking open in shock.

“Oh no.” She slid out of bed and found a jug with water that she must have brought in with her the previous night. “You need to be cleaned. I brought more water and peroxide.”

I looked over at the sleeping bodies.

“Don't worry, they sleep like the dead half the time. They work hard and drink hard. They'll be out for hours.”

She began the arduous work of cleaning me off, grimacing and choking.

When she was done, she sighed wearily.

“The infection is under control for now. Does it feel any better?”

“Yes,” I lied. I was too weak to care anymore about pain. I needed to find electricity or I didn't know what would happen to me. “I'm going to go out for a walk. Get some air.”

“That sounds like a good idea. We'll be sleeping.”

Charlotte helped me dress again.

Once I was outside, I stood against a wall and stared at the people hurrying around me. Flashes of memories of the streets of London zigzagged through my mind. They didn't stay long enough to really see but it encouraged me to know that I would be soon walking familiar terrain.