Free Blackstone and the Heart of Darkness by Sally Spencer Page B

maid.’
    ‘Tall woman, was she, this lady?’ Cathy asked. ‘Black hair? Little mole on her chin?’
    Lizzie nodded. ‘The master said I was very lucky she’d picked me, an’ I really thought I was myself. But she never took me to her home, like she’d promised. As soon as we left the workhouse, she handed me over to this man, an’ now ...an’ now I’m here.’
    ‘That’s the same as happened to all of us,’ Cathy said.
    ‘All of you?’
    ‘There was some other girls here when I arrived, but they’ve gone now. The place is not so bad, once you get used to it.’
    ‘But it’s so dark an’ cold!’
    ‘They’ll give yer warm clothes later. An’ blankets—lovely thick blankets, like yer’d never get in the workhouse.’
    ‘But what will they do with me?’
    ‘For a start, they’ll feed yer up. Yer’ll never feel hungry while yer in here. They’ll let yer take a bath every day in lovely warm soapy water—an’ when yer get out of the bath, they’ll give yer creamy lotions to rub into yerself. It’s a real treat, I can tell yer.’
    ‘An’ do they watch you while you’re takin’ this bath of yours?’ Lizzie asked, in horror.
    ‘Not if yer don’t want them to—an’ some of the girls didn’t. I don’t mind meself. I’ve got a nice little body, an’ if it gives them pleasure to look at it, then I don’t see why they shouldn’t.’
    ‘An’ do they ever try to...try to...’
    ‘Have their wicked way with yer?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Never. The boss don’t allow that kind of thing. So yer see, yer’ve nothin’ to worry about at all, an’ my advice to you is to stop frettin’ an’ enjoy yerself while yer here.’
    ‘But what about when I go?’ Lizzie asked. ‘Where will they take me? Where did they take the other girls?’
    ‘I don’t rightly know,’ Cathy admitted. ‘I haven’t asked, an’ the people what run this place haven’t told me.’
    ‘But what do you think? ’
    ‘My guess would be a brothel somewhere.’
    ‘An’ doesn’t that frighten you?’
    ‘Not really. I’ve got used to sleepin’ in a feather bed, and eatin’ real meat every day. I like not havin’ to scrub floors until me hands are red-raw, like I used to have to do in the workhouse.’
    ‘I know, but—’
    ‘An’ if all it takes to have the good things—an’ avoid the bad ones—is to spread me legs now an’ again, then I’m perfectly happy to go along with it.’
    *
    It was a relief for Patterson to be out in the night air again—to be smelling healthy horse dung and smoke, instead of being over-powered by the stink of perfume, greed and desperation. The sergeant walked quickly away from the house on Waterloo Road, and didn’t stop until he had turned the corner.
    A mixture of emotions was rushing through his body—his earlier nervousness, which he had still not quite managed to quell; a relief that he had, against all odds, pulled the deception off; a pride that, even without Blackstone to guide him, he still seemed to be a pretty good copper. But gradually all these emotions retreated, and all that was left was anger.
    He thought of Rose, his fiancée. She might sometimes torture him with her unreasonable requests that he should diet, but, all in all, she was a good little soul. When he did eventually marry her, she would still be a virgin, and any discomfort she felt on their first night together would at least be made easier for her to bear by the knowledge that he loved her and would not willingly hurt her.
    It would be different for the poor girls that people like the madam procured for their customers. They would be deflowered by men they had never met before—men who would treat them roughly and take pleasure from the pain they were causing them.
    Patterson had not wanted this case initially, but now he discovered that he was glad it had been assigned to him. He knew he could not clean up the whole world—or even the whole street—on his own. He knew that prostitution had existed