Tilly True (18 page)

‘Very interesting, dear.' Jessie stood up, brushing the creases out of her magenta tussore skirt. ‘I think I heard the doorbell. Excuse me for a moment, Tilly.' She disappeared, leaving a scent trail of brandy and cologne in her wake.

Maybe she's not such a bad old stick after all, Tilly thought, relaxing against the velvet cushions. Maybe things will turn out all right. The door opened and Jessie ushered a man into the parlour. Leaping to her feet, the glass fell from Tilly's nerveless fingers as she recognised the new client. ‘It's you.'

‘Bugger me if it ain't young Tilly.' Stanley Blessed's mouth went slack with astonishment.

‘Don't tell me you know this girl, Stanley?' Jessie's eyes narrowed as she stared at Tilly and her mouth turned down at the corners.

‘Know her? She used to work for us. A thieving skivvy is what she is.'

‘It ain't true. I never stole nothing.' Tilly made an attempt to push past them but Stanley caught her by the arm. Jerking free, she glared up at him. ‘You'd better not touch me or I'll go to your old lady and tell her what sort of place you go to when you're supposed to be working late.'

Catching her with the flat of his hand, Stanley slapped Tilly round the face and sent her sprawling on the floor. The stocking pads that had filled the bodice of her gown popped out and rolled across the carpet.

‘You ain't got no tits,' Stanley said, watching with horror as the white silk stockings sprang out of their coils. ‘Cheating little whore.'

‘Now, now, Stanley. None of the tough stuff, ducks.' Jessie bent down and hoisted Tilly to her feet. ‘I don't let punters rough up my girls. You know the rules.'

Stanley's florid cheeks turned purple and Tilly could see a vein throbbing in his forehead. ‘Sorry, Jessie, but I come all the way to Ludgate Hill so I won't get found out on me home territory. I didn't expect to find her here.'

‘Well now, dearie, look on the bright side. I know how you like them young and untouched, so to speak. This could be your chance to get your own back. That's if you're willing to pay the price.'

‘What?' Stanley's eyes bulged. ‘I could have had her for nothing.'

‘No you couldn't. I spent all me time avoiding your mitts, you big monkey.' Wrenching free of Jessie's grasp, Tilly ran to the door and found it locked. ‘Let me out! Let me out!'

‘I thought you'd make a run for it,' Jessie said, holding up the key. ‘And don't bother screaming, dearie, because there's no one will take a blind bit of notice.' She turned to Stanley, suddenly businesslike. ‘It's the usual, doubled.'

For a moment, Tilly thought he was going to refuse as Stanley's mouth worked and beads of sweat stood out on his brow. She prayed that he would, but after a moment's thought he nodded, and taking a roll of notes out of his pocket, he peeled off a couple of oners, pressing them into Jessie's outstretched hand. ‘She'd better be worth it, Jessie.'

‘Trust me, Stanley.' Taking a small brown bottle from behind a china figurine of a shepherdess on the mantelshelf, Jessie poured some of its contents onto a silk handkerchief, advancing on Tilly with a determined look on her face. ‘Don't worry, ducks, this won't kill you.' Striking with the speed of a spitting cobra, she clamped the cloth over Tilly's mouth. The more she struggled and the deeper she breathed, the sweet-smelling chloroform filled Tilly's nostrils, choking her, making the world spin in dizzying circles as she fell into a dark pit.

She could still smell the sickly-sweet odour of the anaesthetic and her mouth was dry. Her head ached, and it was dark except for the small rectangle of the skylight in the sloping ceiling. She was cold and, as the mists cleared from her confused mind, Tilly realised that she was lying on her own bed, stark naked. She was not alone. Someone was shuffling about in her room, and, before she could make a move or cry out for help, a man's body landed on top of her. She felt his cold, bare flesh pressing down on her, his rough hands kneading her breasts as he forced her legs apart with his knee. She tried to scream but his weight was crushing her and his sour-smelling mouth clamped over hers; his tongue, slippery and disgusting, was thrusting into her throat making her retch. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, and the more she struggled and fought, scratching at his back with her fingernails, raking his hairy legs with her toes, the more excited he seemed to become.

Jerking his head back to draw breath, Stanley pinned her arms wide apart, rearing above her. ‘I'll get me money's worth out of you, you little whore. You've had it coming to you for months.'

Terrified and revolted, Tilly spat in his face, but he barely recoiled. His mask-like expression rendered him unrecognisable as the hen-pecked husband of Martha Blessed and she knew instinctively that nothing was going to stop him. This was no drunken Bert Tuffin who would become comatose before he could harm her. Fighting was useless. Tilly bit her lip as he raised himself above her, but nothing had prepared her for the pain of the first thrust. She let out an animal-like howl. Again and again he came into her until he collapsed, grunting with satisfaction and pinning her to the lumpy mattress. He seemed to fall asleep and Tilly tried to wriggle out from underneath his sweating flesh, but his arm tightened around her.

Tears of pain and humiliation ran down her cheeks as she lay trapped in her own bed with no hope of escape. Her mind and body were so numbed that Tilly barely felt anything during the next assault on her bruised body, or the one that followed. Time seemed to have ceased to exist and she felt her spirit hovering somewhere up near the ceiling; she was looking down at her own body and that of the man who had once employed her.

‘That's wiped the cocky grin off your face, my girl.' Stanley got up and began pulling on his trousers.

Lying there, stiff, cold and sore, Tilly caught sight of his bare buttocks that, in the moonlight, looked like two halves of a hard-boiled egg, and a bubble of hysterical laughter welled up from her stomach. Clamping her hand over her mouth she struggled to gain control of her emotions. He had hurt her physically, violated her body and humiliated her, but Stanley Blessed was a ridiculous, clown-like apology for a man who could not touch the real Tilly True. Pulling the coverlet up to her chin, Tilly huddled beneath the bedclothes.

‘And don't even think of telling my missus,' Stanley said, bending over her and shoving his face so close that she could feel the bristles on his chin scraping her cheek. ‘If you come within spitting distance of my house or shop I'll set the coppers on you and I'll swear it was a lot more than a garnet brooch what went missing.'

With her eyes tight shut, Tilly held her breath until she heard the door close behind him and, now that he was gone, she began to shake uncontrollably. With her whole body racked with dry, rasping sobs she was only dimly aware that someone else had entered the room. A hand was tugging at the coverlet and Tilly opened her mouth to scream.

‘Hush now, love, it's me, Dolly.' Clutching a lighted candle, Dolly peered down at Tilly. ‘Are you all right, ducks?'

Unable to speak, Tilly shook her head.

‘Never mind, love, it's all over now.' Speaking softly as a mother might to a distressed child, Dolly pulled back the coverlet, tut-tutting sympathetically. ‘The bastard. He's done you good and proper.' Hooking her arm around Tilly's shoulders, Dolly helped her to a sitting position, and dragging a blanket from the bed she wrapped it round her. ‘Jessie's got a lot to answer for, letting a sod like that loose on a first-timer. Come on, Tilly, we'll get you into a nice hot bath and put some arnica on them bruises.'

‘No, really,' Tilly said, finding her voice that sounded oddly croaky, as though it belonged to someone else. ‘I don't want anyone to see me like this.'

‘Don't worry about that. We've all been like this at some time or another. It goes with the job, so to speak. Anyway, we'll use Madam's private bathroom. She's still busy downstairs.'

With Dolly's help, Tilly dragged her sore, aching body along the corridor to Jessie's apartment and she allowed Dolly to help her into a bath filled with steaming water and scented with bath crystals.

‘You're going to have a lovely black eye come morning,' Dolly said cheerfully. ‘At least them other bruises are in places what won't show. You stay there and I'll go downstairs and make us a nice cup of tea.'

‘What about your old gent?' Feeling slightly better, Tilly was curious.

‘It don't take much to satisfy the old fellow. I sent him back to his missis in a hansom cab just before I come up to check on you.'

‘What the hell's going on?'

Both Dolly and Tilly jumped as Jessie erupted into the bathroom.

‘I never said you could use my bathroom.' Standing with arms akimbo, Jessie glared down at Tilly.

‘Hold on, Jessie,' Dolly said, tugging at her sleeve. ‘Can't you see what a mess that bugger's made of her? I reckon letting her use your bathroom is the least you can do for her.'

‘And who asked you?' Jessie jerked her head towards the door. ‘Get out and mind your own business.'

‘I'm going, keep your hair on. But I'll be back with some tea for Tilly and some salve. That fellow half killed her by the looks of things.' Dolly swept out of the bathroom.

Open-mouthed, Jessie stared after her. ‘I'll have words to say to that girl in the morning.'

Tilly made to get out of the bath, but Jessie held up her hand. ‘No, it's all right, you can have a soak. I suppose I owe you that at least. I knew that Blessed had a score to settle but I didn't think he'd go quite so far.'

‘How did you know? I never told you.'

Shrugging her shoulders, Jessie's painted face sagged into wrinkles. ‘Pitcher has his uses. After all, I'm paying Barney handsomely for his services, so I got Pitcher to find out about you. He told me you was sacked from the law firm and Bootle's daughter has put it about that you stole from the Blesseds. Stanley just happens to be one of my regulars and I saw the opportunity to make a bit extra. That's business, young Tilly.'

Reaching for a large, fluffy towel, Tilly climbed out of the water. ‘Just tell me one thing. Did Barney know what you had in mind?'

‘Why do you think he left you here with me, duckie? This ain't no convent school for young ladies.' Snorting with laughter, Jessie went into the next room. ‘And clean the bath when you've finished.'

‘Sod you,' Tilly mumbled under her breath. Wrapped in the towel, she followed Jessie through the adjoining bedroom into the sitting room. ‘I don't know what's going on between you and Barney and I don't care. I'm leaving this place as soon as it gets light and I hope I never see either of you ever again.'

Lighting a cheroot with a spill, Jessie cast her a pitying glance. ‘They all say that, but you'll be back, Tilly. The first time is the worst and after that it's just a job, and a job that pays better than slaving in a sweatshop or getting some horrible industrial disease working in a factory or a mill. You get three square meals a day, all the gin you can drink and clothes that would make the Princess of Wales green with envy, and all you got to do is act nice to a few punters. Do it well and you can save enough to retire by the time you're thirty, do it badly and you ain't no worse off than millions of married women all over the country.'

‘If that's your view of life, then I'm sorry for you,' Tilly said, with a defiant lift of her chin. ‘Like I said, I'm leaving in the morning and neither you nor Pitcher nor that gorilla you got on the door can stop me.'

Chapter Nine

After Dolly's ministrations with hot, sweet tea and the liberal application of arnica to her bruises, Tilly had to force herself to go back to her garret room. As she stared down at the rumpled bedcovers, a surge of bile left a bitter taste in her mouth, making her retch. In a frenzy of anger and disgust, she tore off the covers. A telltale bloodstain spread like a blot on the mattress and, heaving it off the bed, she dragged it into a corner beneath the eaves. If the window had been low enough and larger she would have pitched the mattress out into the night. It would, she thought, have given her a feeling of release to send the evidence of her abuse plummeting to the pavement below to be picked at by rats and carrion crows. Bruised in body and spirit, Tilly wrapped herself in the coverlet and lay down on the bare boards, but her sleep was fitful and filled with bad dreams. She awakened before first light with just one thought in mind and that was to escape from Blossom Court.

Dressing was a slow and painful process, but she managed it somehow. Wrapping her shawl around her shoulders and tucking the bundle containing her old clothes under her arm, Tilly made her way downstairs to the hall. She could hear Wilson cleaning out the grate in the parlour, and the smell of baking bread wafting up from the basement kitchen made her stomach rumble, but there was no time to think about food. It all seemed too easy as she went to the front door and turned the handle, but it was locked and the key was nowhere to be seen. Biting back tears of frustration, Tilly went into the parlour.

‘Wilson, you got to help me. I need the key to the front door.'

Wilson glanced nervously over her shoulder. ‘Miss Jessie has the keys. I can't help you.'

‘There must be a back way.'

Scrambling to her feet, Wilson shook her head. ‘There is, but you got to go through the kitchen. Cook's got orders not to let anyone through without Miss Jessie's say-so.'

‘That's crazy. She can't keep me a prisoner. It's against the law.'

Gathering up the scuttle filled with ashes and the dustpan and brush, Wilson made for the door. ‘Running a knocking-shop is against the law, miss, but she's got away with it so far.' She scurried out of the parlour, closing the door behind her.