Vintage Love (6 page)

She shrugged. “No. You can have it.”

“Thanks!” he dropped down on the floor, put the crutch aside, and greedily devoured the contents of the plate.

She said, “Are you to be my jailer?”

“Righto!” he grinned at her. “But you won’t find me too hard to deal with.”

“How do you come to be here?”

“Working for Jim and Hannah?” he asked, still sitting on the floor by her.

“Yes.”

“Well, you see, when I was a lad, I was sold to a sweep by my old dad. The way it was he had seven mouths to feed, and he couldn’t manage one more. So I had to go.”

“You’re no more than a lad now,” she chided him.

“I’m twelve years old,” he said as if that were old age. “I were only five when I was sold.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Sold? Do you really mean sold like a slave?”

“What other way is there?” Gimpy asked in wonder. “Crikey, lads are sold all the time! Gels as well, though they don’t bring much until they’re a bit older, if you know what I mean.”

“Go on,” she said, stunned by the candid way he revealed all this. It was quite ordinary to him, part of his world.

“Well, this sweep bought me, and he put me to work at once. Taught me the trade and made me do the climbing by the time I was six. And I was real good except when I had too much gin!”

“Too much gin! Did he let a child of six drink?”

Gimpy laughed. “You don’t know much, miss. He fed me the gin to stunt my growth, see? He didn’t want me to grow too quick, and gin was the answer. But I got to like it too much, and that was me ruination!”

“Did you become too drunken to work?”

“No. I did me work, but I wasn’t as steady as I should be come an early morning. We were in this big castle like and he sent me up and I got near the top when I lost me footing. I tried to stop me fall, but I couldn’t. I came all the way down and twisted me spine and broke me hipbone! From that day on I couldn’t move without pain, and I was finished for climbing.”

“It’s a wonder you didn’t kill yourself!”

“Chimney sweeps are tough,” Gimpy said, grabbing his crutch and lifting himself up nimbly. “That was when Hannah took me in to help with the dogs. I’ve been here ever since.”

“Don’t you hate it! The way he abuses that poor dog!”

“Toby,” the lad said. “Well, he doesn’t abuse the other dogs like that. He happens to hate Toby because he took after him one day. Only Hannah coming along saved him. Since then old Jim has taken a liking to tormenting Toby. Made him the best fighter we ever had. Not that this is what he meant to do.”

She listened and said, “You’re saying there’s a special hatred between that dog and the fat man you call Jim.”

“Yes,” Gimpy said. “But it won’t last long. One night a dog will come along who’ll tear Toby to pieces, and we’ll have to get another fighter.”

She said, “Do you understand that I’ve been kidnapped and I’m being held here for ransom?”

Gimpy nodded. “It means a nice bit of profit for Jim and Hannah. And I owe them everything. So don’t expect any help from me.”

With that he limped out and locked the door after him, leaving her alone in the dark cellar. She knew that somehow she must escape this dreadful place, but she could not think by what means.

BETSY SUFFERED alone in the dreadful place for what seemed like hours. Then the woman Hannah returned carrying a washbasin, a pail of water with a dipper in it, and a battered tin chamber pot with a square of wood for a cover. She put all these things down inside the door.

She said, “There’s a bit of soap in the washbasin. Mind you’re careful with the water, it has to do for both drinking and washing up. And don’t expect me to empty the pot more than once a day.”

Betsy stood facing her, angry now. “You are pampering me too much, aren’t you?”

The unkempt big woman sneered at her. “You think because you have a pretty face and figure you’re something special! Well, listen to me, my lady, you’re not! I’ve seen girls just as lovely as you go on the streets and in a year or two they’re battered and bloated and don’t look any better than me!”

“Are you threatening me?” she asked.

“I’m warning you,” the woman said coldly. “Don’t be too high toned! If we don’t get the money from your parents, we may make you earn it by entertaining gents in here. Then we’ll see how long your beauty lasts!”

Fear tightened her insides, but she refused to let the arrogant woman see it. She said, “You dare not harm me! You will pay for all you have done!”

“You’re wrong!” the woman jeered. “We’re the ones who will be paid. And with notes of the realm! That’s what!”

Betsy drank a dipperful of the water and then used a little of it to wash. She was determined to keep herself in as good a condition as possible since this might build up her spirits. After that she sat thinking about her plight for a long while and wondered how long before the man with the ransom demand might return with some answer from her parents. Not too long. Perhaps by the end of another day.

Would these villains release her even if the ransom money were paid? She very much doubted it. They would find some way to be rid of her, if they didn’t kill her, perhaps ship her over to a brothel in France. She had heard of such cases. It was not pleasant to think about.

Would Felix Black decide she had turned down his plea for assistance in his strange project and go ahead without her? Was the spy master mad, his mind finally turned by the strain of the years battling Napoleon? Or had he really fallen on to some important facts? It wasn’t likely she’d ever know, not with all the odds against her of escaping frrom this place.

She fumbled in her pocket and found some coins. She counted them out, and it amounted to only a few bob. Hardly enough to bribe anyone. No wonder the fat Jim had not taken the coins from her.

Outside she heard Toby barking furiously and knew that he was probably being fed. Only when the fat man whipped him did he snarl and howl. It would be Gimpy tending to him.

A little later her door was unlocked, and Gimpy came in with a plate of food for her. He put it down, “Better eat it, miss. It’s good enough, and you need your strength.”

“Thank you, Gimpy,” she said. “I’ll try. You’re kind.”

He had put aside his crutch and was sitting, gazing at her as she ate. He said, “You’re a proper pretty gal!”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“I’d let you go free if I had the say.”

“Then I wish you had the say,” she told him. “Where is this place?”

“Whitechapel,” he said.

“Tell me about the dog fighting.”

“You’ll be hearing them at it tonight,” he promised. “Old Toby has to fight again tonight. Hannah taught him herself, put him in the ring with a gummer first.”

“A gummer?”

The boy nodded solemnly. “A gummer is an old dog who has fought a long time and has lost his eye teeth through age or had them pulled out. He fights with the dog in training, and the new dog learns from him the moves and how to protect himself.”

“Then what?”

“Toby was put in with some mongrels who’d been toned up to fight. But before they were put in the ring with him, they had the parts most easy to attack shaved. That way Toby learned to go after them in those places. Once Toby fought a few of those curs and tasted their blood, he was made. Ready to fight like a champion!”

“Terribly brutal!” she said, shuddering.

“There’s much that’s brutal and little to do about it,” the boy said. He picked up his crutch and prepared to go.

All the time he’d been telling her about the training of Toby, she’d been doing some quick thinking. Now before he could leave her, she said, “Gimpy, one minute.”

“Yes,” he stood, leaning on his crutch, his thin face pathetically wistful.

“If you had one wish you’d like to fill, what might it be?”

Gimpy looked behind him furtively and then leaned forward to her. “It’s the gin! I miss it fearful, and they won’t give any of it to me!”

“Why?”

“They don’t trust me to drink!”

“I trust you, Gimpy.”

“Thank you, miss.”

She put her hand in her pocket and pulled out the coins and held them out to him. “Is that enough to get you some gin?”

His eyes opened wide. “Crikey! That will get me a bottle or two!”

“Then make your dream come true,” she told him. “Take the money and bring the gin here and hide it. I won’t tell on you, and you can drink it while you’re here watching me.”

He reached out and clawed for the coins and thrust them in his pocket. His thin face was glowing with anticipation. He said, “You won’t regret this, miss. I promise you that!”

She nodded. “I want you to enjoy yourself, Gimpy.” She knew she was doing wrong, but she steeled herself to it. If she were to survive, she had to learn to play the game.

Night came! She knew it only because Hannah told her when she came with another bucket of water. She sat alone in the dark, and a new ordeal began. She first heard the rumble of male voices growing louder in the adjoining cellar where the dog fights were held. Then came the fury of the fight itself and the snarling and howling of the battling animals as they fought for their lives.

Again she covered her ears, but she could not blank out all the sounds. The last pitiful howl of the dog that met its end in the ring came to her with heartrending clarity. There was a rumble of voices again and then silence as the crowd dispersed.

She was sitting thinking about attempting sleep when the door was furtively opened. She started and uttered a gasp of fear.

“It’s only me. Gimpy!” came a whisper.

“Oh!” she said. “The fight is over.”

“Yes. Toby won again. But it was close. The other dog near tore his eye out!”

“Don’t talk about it!”

“I came by to hide it here,” the lad whispered, limping over to her. “I want you to keep it for me.”

“All right,” she said. “But it will be bad for me if they find out.”

“They won’t,” he said. “I’ll come by when I bring your food around noon time. I’ll stay awhile and have some of it then while I’m waiting for your empty plate.”

“Very well,” she said. And she took the gin bottles, and he went limping out and locked the door behind him.

Betsy hid the bottles in a far corner, placing them on their sides and brushing some debris over them. Then she tried to sleep, her mind disturbed by the events of the evening and the frantic knowledge that if she were to escape, it must be soon.

Her first visitor the next morning was the fat man. He was sober and in a bad mood. He said, “What a pretty vixen you have turned out to be!”

“Why do you say that?” she asked, playing along to find out as much as she could of what was happening outside.

“You all but killed that old blister of a Dakin,” the fat man said angrily. “Still not able to talk! His doctors don’t know whether he’ll live or not!”

“Do you expect me to feel sorry?”

“You may have reason to,” he snapped angrily. “Your precious mother is in hysterics, and your blundering stepfather cannot raise five thousand pounds! The only one who can pay up is Dakin, and no one can consult him about it.”

“I doubt very much if he’d pay now anyway,” she said dryly.

“We’ve given your parents an ultimatum,” Jim warned her. “Either they find the money from some other source, or they will never see or hear from you again!”

She said, “Will they, even if they pay up?”

A nasty smile crossed the fat man’s face. He said, “That is something to be decided after the money comes in.”

“And I think I know how it will be decided,” she said.

He nodded his approval. “You’re beginning to think more sharply. Pity you didn’t get on to it earlier.”

“Yes,” she said. “I might have been better able to deal with a certain man of the cloth!”

He made no answer but went out and locked the door. The future suddenly looked bleaker than ever. She knew the state of her family’s finances, and she was almost certain they could not raise the ransom money. Lord Dakin was apparently still in a critical state. The ransom would not be paid. Jim, in his rage, would invent some especially evil punishment for her.

The morning dragged by, interrupted only once when she suspected that the fat man came by to torment and whip the dog Toby. She heard the animal snarling and howling along with the hoarse laughter of the drunken ex-parson. It made her feel ill.

Promptly at noon Gimpy appeared with her food. As soon as he set the plate down, he asked, “Where is it?”

She indicated the corner. “Over there!”

He limped over and came back with a bottle. Putting his crutch aside, he struggled with his thin hands shaking to open the bottle. When he’d managed, he held it up to his mouth and gulped down the strong watery liquid until he choked and it ran down his chin. He put down the bottle and rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand and blinked his eyes.

“Months since I had a drop,” he told her in a hoarse whisper.

“Is it good gin?” she asked, feeling guilty.

He winked at her. “Good enough,” he said. And he drank from the bottle again.

“Aren’t you taking too much?” she worried.

“Mother’s milk!” he said. “I can handle it!”

“Save some for tomorrow!”

He nodded to the corner. “There’s still the other bottle.”

“You’re so small,” she said. “Won’t it make you drunk?”

“I’m used to it,” Gimpy told her happily. “I never felt better. I’m floating on clouds!”

She begged him, “Be careful! We don’t want to let Hannah find you drunk!”

He had consumed a major part of the bottle and now his eyes were glazed, and in a slurred voice, he declared, “Hannah is an old blister! She cheats at cards!”

“I know,” she said. “Do give me the bottle. You’ve had enough. We must be careful!”

“God bless His Majesty!” Gimpy said drunkenly and lifted the bottle to his lips again. She was about to seize it and take it from him when the crippled boy suddenly went limp, let the bottle drop with its precious contents draining out onto the earthen floor, as he fell backward dead drunk!

Betsy stood up in alarm, staring at what she had wrought. She didn’t know what to do next. But the instinct for survival told her she must get away from the drunken lad and quickly. She went out to the big room where the dog fights were held. Then she heard Toby growl suspiciously in his cage. She summoned all her courage and went over by the cage fence. The dog glared at her with his angry red eyes, and she saw the torn flesh around one of them.