Page 46

“If I don’t remember all the questions I’m supposed to be askin’, you be sure an’ give me a nudge. The doctor, ’e’s done me a good turn or two that no one knows nothin’ about, and I doubt I’m the only one in that place who can say so.”

Grace nodded, patting her slate reassuringly as they passed a house where a mother sat in a rocking chair on the front porch, children playing at her feet. She nodded in greeting and both girls nodded back, Grace’s scars hidden under her curls.

Nell giggled into her hand. “Playing at bein’ respectable always gets a rise outta me. Though once we find our way into the whorehouse I ’spose that game is up.” Nell hesitated in her step at the next crossroads. “I don’t exactly know where we’re goin’.”

Grace walked confidently on, her memory of the first night with Dr. Thornhollow seared into her mind. The buildings around them deteriorated slightly as they moved on, their presence gaining more attention as their clothes marked them as people who didn’t belong on the wrong side of town. But the establishment they were headed to still held a front of respectability, advertising only alcohol for sale and not women as well.

Nell steered Grace down an alley once she spotted it. “Ye may know the place well enough ter find it, but I don’ think walkin’ in by the front door is the wisest thing. Ye don’ want to be mistaken for a workin’ girl. Thornhollow would have me hide.”

They approached from the back, where a couple of women wrapped in threadbare cloaks were sharing a smoke on the balcony. Nell hailed them from the side street.

“Oy, there! We was wonderin’ if we might ’ave a word?”

“With who?” one woman asked, flicking ash from her cigarette.

“Uh . . .” Nell’s voice lost some of its confidence. “We come about Mellie Jacobs.”

“Poor Mellie,” the other woman said, tugging her shawl tighter. “Didn’t no one even let us know about the funeral. So’s I don’t know a soul was there when they stuck her in the ground.”

“Don’t be wasting your pity, Sarah,” the woman with the cigarette said. “Ain’t nobody going to our funerals, neither. Feel sorry for yourself and for me. At least we’re alive to know it.”

“I’ll go t’ both yer funerals if ye spare me a damn moment,” Nell shouted up.

“There’s an offer.” Sarah cackled. “Come on up, the both of you. Birdie and me’s got some time before we go back to work.”

Nell and Grace climbed the wooden stairs, stepping carefully over one that was broken, and joined the women on the balcony. Birdie offered a puff of her cigarette to Nell, who took a drag gratefully.

“So you knew Mellie?” Sarah asked.

“Nay . . . ,” Nell said, exhaling smoke. “We know ’er mother.”

“Ah . . . so you’re from up on the hill, are you?” Birdie said, taking the cigarette back from Nell. She nodded toward Grace. “Is that why you don’t do any talking?”

“Aye, she’s crazy as a loon, that one,” Nell said.

“And what about you?” Sarah asked. “You don’t seem to have nothing wrong with you. And a pretty face like yours, you could make good money down here with us. Lots of men be willing to pay a bit extra to toss a crazy girl.”

“They’d pay with more than money,” Birdie said shrewdly, looking Nell up and down. “She’s got the pox.”

Nell’s smile froze on her face. “How’d you know?”

“It’s in the way you walked up them steps, stiff like it hurts in your joints, though you’re too young to have the arthritis. And it’s cool today, surely, but you’re buttoned up to your neck, covering every inch you can.” She flicked her cigarette again. “How far’s it spread?”

Grace watched her friend’s normal confidence fall away, replaced by a stony wall of indifference. “Far enough tha’ I don’t care to say.”

“You got one blooming, here,” Birdie said, touching the side of her own mouth.

Nell’s hand went to her face reflexively. “I don’t.”

“You do.” Birdie nodded. “I see the way you’ve got your lips clenched a bit to hide it, but there’s a lump there sure enough. It’ll be leaking before long and that’ll be the end of your face.”

Sarah smacked her friend’s shoulder. “That’s enough, Birdie. No need to scare the girl. If she’s up to the asylum, she knows about her condition, more so than the town whores.”

“Whores may not know a lot,” Birdie said, eyes still on Nell’s face. “But I know the pox. Mellie had it too, you know.”

Grace nudged Nell, anxious to tear her friend’s mind away from her own troubles. “Did she?” Nell asked, taking the cue.

“She’d just had the first sores, down here.” Birdie pointed at her crotch. “But Mrs. Teekler, if she knows one of the girls has got a spot, they’re out on the street. She makes a good business off us, and she only wants one kind of thing erupting down here on River Street.”