A Wanton Tale (22 page)

Maurice became even more attracted to Minnie when he discovered that she had a prepubescent daughter. Despite Minnie’s own experience as a youngster, she failed to spot the danger signs when Maurice started buying presents for her to take home to Florrie. He gave her fine cotton undergarments and items of clothing. It was only when Maurice suggested that Minnie bring Florrie to the house on her next visit that she realised that it wasn’t her that he wanted. He was merely using her as a bridge in the hope of satisfying his own nauseating and perverse needs.

He soon got sick of Minnie when she refused to involve her daughter. His insistence made her threaten to tell the police. Maurice was shaken by this threat. He explained that he was fond of her and insisted that her accusations were wrong, however, he knew that the game was up.

Maurice was concerned about drawing attention to himself. It was now time to part company from Minnie. Besides, who knows where the future may lie? Perhaps there was still a chance. He still had contact with Freddie and the old hag. He was living in hopes of them conjuring up something ‘nice.’

Maurice had also struck up an intimate relationship with a wealthy widow in her mid thirties. Isabella Simpson lived a few doors away in Princes Park.

The friendship suited both Maurice and Mrs. Simpson. They were company for each other and of the same social standing. This allowed them to attend and enjoy functions as a couple.

Isabella was a smart lady, she had a fine collection of jewellery. Some had been bought by her late husband and several pieces had been inherited from her mother.

Her casual relationship with Maurice suited her perfectly. Maurice purported to be a cotton merchant. He always said that his business took him away to the East coast of America. In fact, he was nowhere near America. It was just another well rehearsed lie and a ruse for the times when embarrassing wrong doings forced him into hiding.

For her, Maurice’s absences made their relationship more exciting. His home coming gave Isabella something to look forward to. Somehow, she knew that she wasn’t the only pebble on the beach in Maurice’s life. She had heard tittle tattle about him and noticed tell-tale signs that he had been in the company of other women. She suspected that he had been with prostitutes to fulfil his, rather more deviant, sexual desires such as the use of restraints. This didn’t matter to her. She was honest with herself, it was her own lust that drove her into his arms, not love.

One morning, she opened her jewel case and noticed that one of her rings was missing. She realised that she must have left it on the bedside table in Maurice’s house. It was an elaborate, marquis style diamond dress ring, which she often wore on the middle finger of her right hand. She removed it before getting into his bed.

Isabella was annoyed that she’d left it there and would have the embarrassment of having to go back for it. Nevertheless, Isabella always maintained a facade of respectability, however, she was sneaky. Going to a gentleman’s house alone and in broad daylight was unwise. Her housekeeper was out so, to avoid curtains twitching and neighbours talking, she decided to go there around the back way.

Isabella arrived at the back of Maurice’s house and saw the butler through the pantry window. He was engrossed in washing the dishes so she tapped on the window to attract his attention. He looked up then immediately went to the back door to let her in.

‘Mrs. Simpson?’

‘Bowers, I think I may have left my ring here, I seem to have mislaid it.’ She pointed to the ceiling indicating that she had left it upstairs. There was no point in being coy with Bowers, Maurice’s man. He was Maurice’s confidant and knew full well what went on in the house. His relationship with Maurice was informal which explained why he referred to him by his first name. She did however, trust him, he was a mature man and always the soul of discretion.

‘Where did you leave it, Mrs. Simpson?’ Asked Bowers rather condescendingly.

A little embarrassed she had to tell him that she’d left it on the bedside table in the master bedroom.

‘I shall retrieve it for you madam, please take a seat for a moment.’

He pulled up a kitchen chair, then went up the stairs to look for the ring. But the ring wasn’t there, he looked on the bed, under the bed, inside the drawers, his search was futile. Then he returned to the kitchen. As soon as she saw his grim face, she knew he hadn’t found it.

‘The ring is not here Mrs. Simpson.’

She desperately began to describe the ring, he shook his head. ‘I am familiar with the piece you have described, I have seen you wearing it, but I’m afraid it is not here. Mr. Maurice has been called away on business. He set sail for….’ Bowers hesitated and coughed lightly into his clenched hand, ‘America only this morning.’

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. She had only been with Maurice a day earlier and he hadn’t mentioned anything about a trip abroad. Knowing him, she wasn’t surprised that he had gone away without telling her.

‘I am sure that if the ring was left here, Mr. Maurice will have put it away in a safe place. As soon as he returns, I will mention it to him.’

‘Thank you, that is most kind of you, but I definitely left it here.’

Maurice had broken his own golden rule. He had approached a mother directly in an attempt to ruin a young girl. He was leaving himself open to the wrath of the law. With an offer of double his usual payment, he invited Minnie for one last visit. He softened the blow of this ‘misunderstanding’ by finding her a good situation. As she was getting ready to leave, he pulled out a copy of The Liverpool Mercury from the newspaper rack by the side of the chair. Maurice flicked through the paper to find the ‘Situations Vacant’ near the back. The advertisement had already been ringed in pen.

‘Minnie, here is a situation for a counter assistant at a prestigious druggist on Castle Street, number 10.’

‘There’s no point in me writing in after that, I’ve got no experience in a shop.’

‘No need, you will be fully trained my dear and the chemist is my good friend, he’ll give you a chance, the position is yours and you can start next Monday.’

Minnie’s dark eyes were sparkling in the firelight, she felt a little suspicious as to what was coming next, she had an idea and she wasn’t far wrong.

Maurice continued, ‘On condition you don’t come here again and we forget our little misunderstanding.’ Adding abruptly, ‘I’ll ring for Bowers to get your coat, you have left it upstairs.’ Maurice was thinking that she was ill bred after all, no lady would walk upstairs wearing a coat. ‘Besides, I didn’t go with her for her lady like attributes.’ Thought Maurice sneeringly.

Minnie was not surprised but she was angry. A recollection of her experience at the hands of men like Maurice, in Betsy’s house, all those years ago, flashed through her mind. She was determined that her daughter would never suffer the same fate and that she would seek revenge on any man who ever tried to harm her.

Maurice rang the hand bell, then tore the advertisement out of the newspaper and thrust it into her hand.

‘I’ll get my own coat and shoes thank you.’ Said Minnie calmly. She brushed passed Bowers as he entered the room. She went up the stairs to the bedroom whilst folding the newspaper cutting.

She put on her coat which had been thrown across the ottoman at the end of the bed, her payment was safely in her purse. When she came back down Maurice’s manservant was already holding open the front door. The rather lofty Bowers uttered a curt, ‘Good night Miss.’ Minnie didn’t answer.

Still feeling angry, she walked slowly towards the tram. She was able to comfort herself with the knowledge that she had done rather well from this little liaison. For once in her life, it was a good feeling being thrown over by a man, a man who wasn’t her fellow anyway. She now had a chance of bettering herself.

When Minnie returned home, she was relieved that her daughter had gone out. She kicked off her shoes and ran upstairs to her bedroom. She was planning to hide the ring in a little trinket box which was at the back of her underwear drawer.

She rummaged in the pocket of her skirt, then slipped the ring on her middle finger which sparkled in the fading light of the late evening.

As she dropped the ring into the box she thought, ‘His fancy woman’s ring will come in for a rainy day.’ Minnie had a streak of ruthlessness.

It was the first time in her life that she had stolen anything and it was a good feeling!

J
im was clearing away the last of the dirty plates in the supper bar. He wiped down the green ceramic tiles which decorated the lower half of the walls, he then turned down the gas lights. It was Saturday and he had already been paid. The odd pennies and farthings that he received in tips helped his week’s pay to stretch a bit further. He always saved the extra money for occasional outings with Florrie. They loved going to New Brighton on the steam ferry. It was already dark outside, Jim was thankful that he didn’t have far to walk home from London Road, he was feeling tired.

The business was flourishing and the owner, Sammy, was looking for another youngster to wait on. Jim was anxious for Florrie to be chosen, she would be coming for the interview on Monday. ‘She has a lovely smile Sammy and I think she’ll be good for business, honest too.’

‘I’ll see on Monday lad, not making any promises, I have one or two other lasses to see as well you know.’ Said the canny Yorkshireman.

Jim thought he was a fair man who, nevertheless, wanted his pound of flesh. Sammy trusted Jim and admired his hard work and enthusiasm but never let his feelings show. He often came across as a hard task master, but Jim was used to him. He only recommended Florrie because he knew she was a grafter. She shared the running of the house with her mother. Minnie had a strong work ethic which she instilled in her daughter. She often said, ‘No one gives you nothing for nothing.’

Charlie was determined to move out of Circus Street to a better area, the house they were leaving was riddled with damp and was in a state of disrepair. The landlord wouldn’t spend anything on the properties, they were just forgotten slums going to rack and ruin. Jim was concerned that he wouldn’t see as much of Florrie now that they were moving to another house in Westbourne Street. He had already been to have a look around the property. The house he had chosen was rather large and imposing.

On Monday, Sammy had given Florrie a tough interview. He tested her adding up and subtracting. He asked her to write down an order so he could see her handwriting. He also wanted to see her carrying three plates at once.

‘Balance and poise is all you need, a good head for figures and a pretty smile.’ Said Sammy as he was weighing her up, then added, ‘There’ll be plenty of pot washing too, in water as hot as your hands can stand.’

Florrie smiled, she hoped she had done well. ‘You’ll do then, lass, ya can start the morrow.’ Said Sammy bluntly.

Minnie beamed with pride when her daughter told her the news about her job. Her face fell when she told her how much she would be getting. ‘Tight sod and I expect he’ll have you working your fingers to the bone for your two shillings and I’ll be having one of them,
keep
money.’

Florrie was just glad of the work, it couldn’t be better as she would be seeing Jim every day. She was worried that she wouldn’t see much of him after he moved house. She thought he was moving up in the world and might even forget about her. Little did she know that her mother also had plans to move on.

Jim’s employer never looked back, he had made the right choice, the pair of them worked extremely well together. Jim often said, ‘We’re going places, you and me Florrie.’ He was always ambitious and Florrie shared the same determination. They had true grit and were both making a good start in life.

Maurice was sitting in the darkest corner of the Vines Public House. He took a large sip of neat scotch as he eyed up the ladies of the night who frequented the alehouse.

He was disturbed to hear, through the grapevine, that Lily was still trying to stir up some trouble with the police. He sat there deep in thought. If what he had heard was true, Betsy was at the root of this mischief. She had stupidly sent the law up to Seymour Street and Lily had revealed his name.

‘Just as well I gave them a nom de plume.’ Thought Maurice. This was a term Maurice always used to refer to a pseudonym. ‘Just as well I am known by the name of Jones in this town. Besides, what is the problem? It was years ago and the girl was at least twelve. The police are fools.’

Another sip of scotch soon put the whole episode out of his mind. He only came back to the Vines because he knew that the whoring little trio, Lily, Lou and Ellen no longer frequented the place. He was sure that if they saw him again they would report him to the police. Maurice also gave their brothel a wide berth despite the fact that he still fancied Lou, he liked an older woman to be dark and voluptuous. If they were under age they could be of any colouring, he had no preference except liking the fact that they were young.

He pulled out his pocket watch from his waist coat, it hung on a thick gold chain. It was getting close to 10 o’clock and he knew that shortly Freddie would be coming in for a drink before they called time.

Maurice was keen to get the low down from Freddie regarding Minnie Ryan’s daughter. He knew full well that Minnie had stolen Isabella’s ring. He was seething about it and now had nothing but contempt for the woman.

He hadn’t been back to Betsy’s lately, he felt he had no need. For the time being, his sexual appetite was being satisfied by Isabella and up until recently by Minnie Ryan. His heavy lidded eyes were drooping, living a double life by pretending to be a cotton broker and wearing himself out with the sins of the flesh had taken its toll.

There was a tacit understanding with his gentleman’s gentleman that he was living a lie, but it suited his employee to go along with his master’s untruths. After all he was being handsomely paid, telling a few white lies to cover up for Maurice was no real hardship to keep his good position.