‘N-no, there’s nothing wrong and I’m sorry,’ Abi stammered, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her.
‘Hm, well yer’d best pull yer socks up then! I can’t keep girls on who ain’t popular wi’ the customers. You’ve lost yer sparkle an’ I’ve a good idea it’s somethin’ to do wi’ that young lord you’ve been seein’. Let you down, ’as he?’
‘Something like that,’ Abi mumbled, feeling thoroughly miserable.
‘I ain’t surprised,’ Lilly stated. ‘He’s got a reputation fer likin’ the girls. But now plaster a smile on that pretty face o’ yours an’ get out there an’ entertain the customers. That’s what I pay yer for an’ forget all about Hugo, the young sod. There’s plenty more fish in the sea and wi’ your looks you can take yer pick.’
‘Thanks, Lilly.’ Abi was in such a rush to escape that she almost tripped over her skirts in her haste to leave the room but once in the hallway she took a deep breath and pulled herself together. If Jasper came to the club that evening she would try to get Hugo’s address in France off him, but if he didn’t she would go and see Mrs Duffy first thing on Monday morning, and once the baby was gone she would try to put this whole sorry mess behind her.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
‘How did the first day go?’ Imogen asked when Emmy carried her tea tray up to her the next morning.
‘Not all that well, to be honest,’ Emmy admitted. ‘We sat twiddling our thumbs for most of the day. I think we had four patients and that was it. The first little boy had a boil that needed lancing, the second was a little girl who needed stitches in her leg after gashing it on a fence and the last two had terrible coughs. Hardly worth staying there for really.’
‘Rome wasn’t built in a day.’ Imogen took the cup and saucer Emmy held out to her and stared thoughtfully ahead as she sipped at her tea. ‘I think you need something to attract them in. Most of the people you’ll be seeing live on the breadline and are always hungry, so what if I got Cook to bake a load of loaves on Saturday night and you could give each patient one to take away? That way they’ll be getting free medical treatment and something to eat.’
‘But won’t that be rather a lot of work for Cook?’
Imogen shook her head. ‘I shouldn’t think she’ll mind at all. In fact, I think she’d feel she was doing her bit. She’s thoroughly behind what you and Jake are trying to do.’
‘I suppose it’s worth giving it a go. I’ll put the idea to Jake, and thank you.’
‘Huh! It’s nothing, but now get me some clothes laid out. I’ve got Lady Medville calling today for morning coffee. I think I’ll wear the mauve bombazine.’ And so Emmy rushed about doing as she was told.
Early on Monday morning Abi stood on a bridge staring down at the small cluster of cottages on the embankment that Maria’s map had led her to. They looked almost derelict and outside one of them a cluster of grubby, underfed children were paddling in the dirty water of the Thames. She walked further along until she came to a small opening where a set of rickety wooden steps led down to the cottages and once at the bottom she stepped through the mud and approached the children to ask, ‘Which cottage does Mrs Duffy live in, please?’
‘’Ow much will yer give us to tell yer?’ a small boy of indeterminate age asked cheekily.
Abi fished in her bag and held out a shiny penny and the boy’s eyes, which were sunk into his thin face, lit up as he snatched it from her and pointed to the one closest to the shoreline. ‘Ma Duffy lives in that one there, but she won’t be up yet, miss, not if she ’ad a bellyful o’ gin last night.’
His words did nothing to inspire confidence in Abi who was shaking with fear already, but having come this far there was no point in going back so picking her way through the mud she approached the cottage and tapped at the door.
There was no answer so she tapped again, a little harder this time, and suddenly a voice barked, ‘Clear orf, yer little bleeders, afore I come an’ clout yer one!’
‘Er .?.?. Mrs Duffy, I wondered if I might have a word with you,’ Abi said quickly before she followed her instincts and fled.
For a moment there was no sound but then she heard a shuffling noise and the door inched open to reveal an old woman in a shabby shawl with so many lines on her face that it was impossible to determine her age. Her sparse grey hair stood out in disarray about her head and her bloodshot eyes blinked in the light. The shabby dress and blouse she was wearing were so worn that it was difficult to say what colour they might once have been and she looked as if she had slept in them. She didn’t look or smell any too clean either and Abi began to feel even more apprehensive.
‘Who give yer me address?’ she demanded suspiciously as she eyed Abi up and down.
‘O-one of the girls I work with at the Black Cat club in Soho,’ Abi answered haltingly.
‘Ah .?.?. I see now .?.?. yer in a spot o’ bother, are yer, dearie?’
When Abi hung her head and nodded miserably, the old woman stood aside and reaching out almost hauled her into the room. ‘Come on in then, ain’t no point lerrin’ the whole world know yer business, is there?’
Abi’s nose wrinkled at the stale smell of the place as she glanced around. It was little more than a hovel with a sink and a table to one side of the room, an unmade bed to the other and an old wing chair to the side of a small fireplace. She noticed an empty gin bottle lying on the floor beside the chair, which did nothing for her confidence at all.
She had no more time to take in anything else, however, as the old woman asked, ‘So, were yer lookin’ for me to ’elp yer out?’
Blinking back tears Abi nodded mutely.
‘Hm, yer do realise it’ll cost, don’t yer?’
Another nod from Abi.
‘A guinea up front, that’s what I charge. Have yer got it?’
