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She lost track of how long it was since Margaret had sent the woman out. All that mattered was the wound and the pain. She did not even notice the street door opening and closing.
Then suddenly there was another pair of hands, delicate and strong, and above all clean. Her back was so locked in position that when she straightened up it hurt, and it took her a moment to refocus her eyes on the young man beside her. His shirtsleeves were rolled up above his elbows, his fair hair was damp around his brow as if he had splashed his face with water. He looked down at the wound.
“Good job,” he said approvingly. “Looks as if you’ve got it.”
“Where have you been?” she replied between her teeth, overwhelmed with relief that he was there, and furious that he had not come sooner.
He gri
Hester considered apologizing to him for her implied criticism and decided it did not matter now. It would not help, and she did not pay him, so perhaps he owed her nothing. She caught Margaret looking at her, and saw the relief in her eyes also.
It seemed as if the bleeding was stopped. She handed Lockhart the final bandages soaked in balm and he bound them in place, then stood back.
“Not bad,” he said gravely. “We’ll need to watch her for infection.” He did not bother to ask what had happened. He knew no one would tell him. “A little beef tea, or sherry if you have it. Not yet, but in a while. You know what else.” He lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug and smiled. “Probably better than I do.”
Hester nodded. Now that the immediate crisis was over she was overwhelmed with weariness. Her mouth was dry and she was trembling a little. Margaret had gone to the stove for hot water so they could wash the worst of the blood away, and to make tea for them.
Hester turned to the waiting women, and the question in all their faces. “Give it time,” she said quietly. “We can’t tell yet. It’s too soon.”
“Can she stay ’ere?” one of them asked. “Please, missus! ’E’ll only do it again if she goes back.”
“What’s the matter with him?” Hester let her fury out at last. “He could have killed her. He’s got to be a madman-you should get rid of him. Don’t you have some kind of-”
“It weren’t Bert!” another of the women said quickly. “I know that ’cos ’e were out cold drunk in the gutter w’en it ’appened. I know that fer sure, ’cos I seed’im meself. Great useless, bleedin’ oaf!”
“A customer?” Hester said in surprise and increasing anger.
“Nah!” The woman shuddered.
“Yer du
“Then who would do it?” Hester asked as Margaret poured hot water into a bowl on the other table, then added cold to it to make it bearable to wash in. The carbolic was already to hand.
Lockhart rolled his sleeves farther up, ignoring the blood on them, and began to wash. Hester followed straight after him and he handed her the towel.
Margaret made tea for all of them, including herself, and brought it over, hot and very strong. Hester was glad to sit down at last and made no demur when Lockhart carried the bowl away to empty it down the drain.
Fa
“Who would do it?” Hester repeated, looking at the woman.
“Du
Lockhart came back with the empty bowl and accepted his tea.
“If I could get me ’ands on the sod wot did that to ’er,” the middle woman said. “I’d slit ’is… sorry, miss, but so I would.”
“You shut yer mouth, Ada!” her companion warned. “There’s rozzers all over the place. Comin’ outa the bleedin’ woodwork, they are. Don’ wa
“Yeh! An’ poor little cows like Fa
Hester did not argue. She sat quietly and thought about it, but she did not ask any more questions. The three women thanked them, and after saying good-bye to Fa
After an hour Lockhart looked closely at Fa
Hester suggested Margaret take a turn to sleep, and she would watch. Later they would change places. In the morning Bessie Wellington would come to take care of the house for the day and keep it clean. She had once been a prostitute herself, then kept a bawdy house until fiercer competition had driven her out of business. Now she was glad to find a warm room to spend the day, and was gentle enough with such patients as remained in the beds. She asked for no payment, and her knowledge of the area was worth almost as much as her labor.
When Hester returned the next evening, she was met by Bessie at the door, her face red, her black hair pulled back into a screwed knot and poking out at all angles. She was bursting with indignation.
“That slimy toad Jessop was ’ere arter money again!” she said in a whisper which carried halfway across Coldbath Square. “Offered’im a cup o’ tea, an’ ’e wouldn’t take it! Suspicious sod!”
“What did you put in it, Bessie?” Hester asked, concealing a wry smile. She came in and closed the door behind her. The familiarity of the room engulfed her, the scrubbed boards still smelling of lye and carbolic, the faint echo of vinegar, the heat of the stove, and over near the tables the pungency of whiskey and the sharper clean tang of herbs. Automatically her eye went to the bed where she had left Fa
“She’s all right, poor little bitch,” Bessie said with anger rumbling in her voice. “Can’t get a word out of ’er ’oo done that to ’er, mind. Don’ understand that. If it were me, I’d be cursin’’im up an’ down ter everyone wot’d listen-an’ them wot wouldn’t!” She shook her head.
“Only a bit o’ licorice,” she said in answer to Hester’s original question. “An’ a spot o’ whiskey ter ’ide the taste, like. Pity that. Waste o’ good whiskey. Not that there’s any other sort, mind!” She gri
“Did you throw it away?” Hester asked anxiously.
Bessie gave her a sideways look. “ ’Course I did, bless yer! Wouldn’t wa