A Monstrous Regiment of Women - Laurie R. King [113]
It seems, though, that I must have dozed off, a sure sign of the state I was in, because I heard the approach of footsteps and suddenly I was back in the cellar on my straw-filled sacks. I jerked upright and looked into Ruby Hepplewhite’s startled face at the cubicle’s curtain.
“Annie, what is it? What’s wrong?” I pushed the hair out of my face.
“Nothing, miss. I was just dreamin’.”
“Not a very pleasant dream, it would seem. I don’t suppose you’ll wish to swear out a complaint against your father, or the other man?”
“Go to the rozzers? Oh, miss, don’t make me do that; ’e’d kill me for sure—”
“I told you, Annie, no one here is going to force you to do anything against your will. However, we will take you to the station tomorrow and put you on the train to Bristol, if you are certain your sister is in a position to take you in.”
“Oh, miss, would you really? Oh, God bless you, miss. Yes, she wants me—she wrote to tell me to come when ’er baby was born, but ’e wouldn’t let me. I’ll save the money and send it back, miss. Honest I will.”
“That isn’t necessary. I will also give you the name of a woman in Bristol to go to, if your father appears or you have any problems. Now, I came to tell you that there is cocoa and bread-and-dripping in the dining room, if you’d like.”
“Very much, miss,” I said over the lurch of my stomach. “I’ll just lace on me boots.”
“I have other things to attend to, but I shall see you in the morning, Annie. I hope you sleep well.”
“Thank you, miss.” She left and I bent to put on my boots. As usually happened, the first fun had left the playacting, and I just wanted to finish my business here. I went down to the disgusting food, which I doubt I could have eaten even if I had been feeling strong, sat down near some children with large eyes, and shared my portion with them. After we had sung some cheery hymns, we were excused. In my cubicle, I wrote a note on a scrap of paper taken from a desk in passing, then turned off the light and lay on my bed until lights-out was called.
Eventually, feet ceased to pass up and down, voices were lowered, the last baby stopped grizzling, and a few women began to snore. I laced my boots on again (they had a new kind of sole, made of crêpe rubber, but no one had noticed that the waif walked the streets in silent shoes) and retrieved the pillows and blankets to arrange in a sleeping shape beneath the blanket. The frock, which was flowered and intended for a figure six inches shorter and four stone heavier, I hung on the hook over my coat to emphasise that the room was occupied, and I put the hat on the table. From the belt against my skin, a strip of flannel that I had succeeded in retaining throughout the bath and examination process, I took the two pieces of equipment necessary for the night’s foray: my spectacles and a ring of picklocks. Holmes had advised a torch and jemmy in addition to the revolver, but I knew I would not be able to keep them from discovery. Taking care not to rattle the picklocks, I put them into the pocket that held such harmless objects as a small purse, cheap handkerchief, pencil stub, cigarettes, and a box of vestas, and took out the sop for my conscience: the note, written in a careful, half-literate scrawl:
Dear Miss Ruby Hebelwite, thank you for your help, I will go to Bristoll with a frend who I remember is going, I will writ you from ther. Yours truly Annie Mudd PS this ring is for you its like your first name.
I wrapped it around the ring I had bought from Buttercup Holmes, tucked it under the hat, then cautiously pulled back the curtain and stepped into the corridor.
The shelter had only two connexions with the rest of the Temple: the main door on the ground floor and a lesser one on the second storey, used by cleaning personnel during the day and kept locked at night. The sleeping quarters