Fallen Grace - Mary Hooper [74]
It was thinking of Lily, however, of her present and unknown plight, that finally spurred Grace into action. Looking out of the window and seeing a dense fog, she obtained a length of white muslin to tie around her face and filter the air being breathed, for one thing she could remember Mama telling her was that to go out in a thick London fog was dangerous to the lungs. The muslin obtained, however, the question came of how to get out of the funeral parlour. Should she make some excuse, tell the Unwins she felt ill, pretend she was going to a hospital or some such thing? But supposing they didn’t allow her to go?
She frowned, steeling herself. Why ever should she worry about the Unwins? If she got the certificate back, then she might never have to see any of them again – at least not as their employee. If she didn’t get it and they stole the inheritance, then how could she ever work for them, knowing what she did? Could she really go on with the pretence that everything was normal simply to keep a roof over her head?
No, she would just disappear, she decided, so this was what she did, bidding farewell to no one and slipping out of the front door unseen.
Entering the world of fog was like being transported to the land of the blind. People groped their way along the street, coughing as they breathed the fog into their lungs, tapping canes in front of them, holding out their arms like sleepwalkers or – if they were lucky enough to secure the services of a link boy – grasping his shoulder while he lit their unsteady progress along the pavement. Grace quickly realised that there was no point at all in taking a hackney cab, for having gone no more than fifty yards she came across two such cabs which had lost their way in the grey gloom and had tangled with an omnibus. All three vehicles were missing one or more wheels and now stood at a standstill, lop-sided and broken. In the road nearby stood two carthorses, left to feed quietly from nosebags until the fog lifted.
Grace edged past the big houses that fronted Edgware Road as quickly as she could, using their railings as markers and guides. She was conscious of the necessity for speed but this seemed near impossible, for one could only fumble along, apologising to those one bumped into, tripping over dogs and occasionally finding oneself down a dead-end alley or back at the place one had passed not ten minutes before. Children ran by, playing at ghosts, hooting and wailing and frightening those of a nervous disposition, and some people simply sat themselves down to wait in convenient doorways until the fog lifted a little and they could find their way home. On reaching Oxford Street things became easier, for the windows of the shops were lit with lamps and each provided a small haven of brightness in the gloom. Passing the Unwin Mourning Emporium, Grace even saw Miss Violet, her smile as cheerful as ever, greeting a customer who’d come in out of the murk, although the rest of the store was practically empty.
She hurried down Bond Street, ignoring the elegant shop windows, hearing every now and again the shrill whistles of the peelers as every petty crook and pickpocket in London tried his luck. Many shops suffered when the fog was thick, for the thief would come in boldly, take the nearest thing and disappear back into the fog before the shopkeeper could take a step to apprehend him. Several times running feet pounded past Grace followed by futile shouts of ‘Stop thief!’
From Bond Street, Grace went to Piccadilly, and then down Haymarket towards the Strand. She was on her old ground now – her watercress-selling ground – and made use of her knowledge of the alleyways for shortcuts, although the closer she came to the river the worse the pall of fog hanging over them became. Once she was accidentally knocked to the floor by a market trader who wheeled his barrow into her, and once she came across a man who’d tumbled unknowingly into a cellar and was calling plaintively for someone to rescue him. She dared not, however, spare the time to stop and help.