Free Babylon by Richard Calder Page B

well,’ she said. ‘That will be enough.’
    I heard bolts being thrown. The door of the steel hemisphere opened. The mechanic walked in, stooping slightly to avoid hitting his head against the domed roof, and began to remove my restraints.
    ‘I am sorry for any distress,’ said the Duenna. ‘But we have to be so careful these days.’ She began to pace back and forth, the swish of her skirts becoming audible as the steam engine’s pistons slowed and then finally stopped. ‘So many volunteer merely because they want to die.’
    The mechanic took my hand and led me out into the study. The light streaming through the windows hurt my eyes.
    ‘I believe you are acquainted with Cliticia Lipski,’ she continued. ‘I would advise you to stay away from her. You will go far, Madeleine. I believe we have found in you an exceptional candidate. Do not let yourself down.’ She walked up to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. ‘Once upon a time girls like you were the rule, not the exception. But these days, those from privileged backgrounds—and of course I speak of backgrounds far, far superior to your own—are kept on Earth, even if they become part of the sisterhood. It falls to those who must need seek an income to serve Ishtar off-world.’ She ran her fingers playfully through my curls. ‘I cannot help but wish that your present score had not been quite so average. But then, with the dangers you will face, and the fate that you may not unreasonably expect, it would, I suppose, be cruel to deny you the consolation of a little morbid romanticism. After all, if worse comes to worse, it may be all that you have to see you through.’ The mechanic handed me a towel. I mopped my face. ‘Yes, you will go far. But do not spoil it by allowing yourself to be contaminated by the kind of truly degrading thoughts that pollute others.’ She took the towel from my hands, and I looked up and studied her bland expression, wondering if my initial assessment of her had been correct. Did she really understand me? ‘See no more of Cliticia, Madeleine. That way treachery lies.’ For the first time that day, she smiled. ‘And death, too, of course,’ she concluded.
     

    At dinnertime I rendezvoused with Cliticia in the playground. Like me, she had that morning been subjected to tests. And she seemed confident that all had gone well. Despite the Duenna’s insinuations, I was equally confident. Cliticia was a true Shulamite. Both of us had yet to have ourselves certified intacta by a qualified midwife. But I no longer had any doubts: we were born to live off-world.
    ‘What’s that noise?’ I said, looking southwards towards the high street.
    ‘Marie Jeanette!’ said Cliticia. The hullabaloo that greeted the cortège that was proceeding towards the Shulamite Cemetery at Leytonstone was clearly audible. ‘Come on,’ she added, excitedly. ‘We don’t want to miss it!’
    She tugged at my sleeve and I followed her through the gates.
    Soon, we stood amidst the press of bodies that lined Whitechapel Road. The cortège had set off from St Leonard’s, Shoreditch, and the noonday tolling of the church’s bell had rapidly brought the district’s residents out onto the streets. Women predominated, most of them with scarcely any covering to their heads. And as they shouted out ‘God forgive her!’ their faces streamed with tears.
    Cliticia took hold of my arm and elbowed her way to the front. The coffin was of polished elm and oak with metal mounts and was carried in an open car drawn by two horses. Engraved on the coffin plate were the words: ‘Marie Jeanette Kelly, died 9 th Nov. 1888, aged 25 years.’ The coffin was adorned with two crowns of artificial flowers and a cross of heartsease.
    ‘At least she ’asn’t ’ad to suffer a pauper’s funeral,’ said Cliticia.
    ‘The sexton at Shoreditch paid for everything, I believe,’ I said.
    The men in the crowd took off their hats as the hearse passed by.
    ‘Lots of coppers