Gypsy - Lesley Pearse [107]
Philadelphia meant ‘The City of Brotherly Love’, and it certainly was a more friendly place than New York, lacking the often menacing and dangerous edge she’d sensed there. There was perhaps just as much poverty, especially amongst the negro and Irish communities, but by and large immigrants appeared more settled here, and the different nationalities more integrated.
It had been terribly cold. On her nineteenth birthday in February there had been a blizzard with drifts of snow feet thick. But Pearl’s kitchen was always warm, and the Bear was only a few streets away. When she got back late at night there was always a hot brick in her bed, and she’d wake in the morning to the smell of frying bacon or pancakes.
On the nights she didn’t play her fiddle, she still worked at the saloon, serving drinks and collecting glasses, and she got to hear other musicians and singers. She’d made many friends too, with both the customers and the other staff.
Frank Jasper had a reputation for being hard-headed and ruthless, but Beth had found him to be jovial and fair-minded. All the money customers put into the hat for the musicians was divided between them equally, and he didn’t take a percentage of it. But then, he was a real music lover, and he took pride in seeking out and nurturing new talent. Some nights he got Beth merely to accompany other musicians or singers, other nights she was the star turn, but whether she was playing, or just watching and listening from the floor, she was constantly learning, and she sensed that was Mr Jasper’s intention.
He was a great enthusiast of the Italian Paganini, and the Spaniard Pablo Sarasate, both great violinists, and he’d been fortunate enough to hear Sarasate play at a concert in New York. Miss Clarkson had told Beth about these two men, and taken her to a concert where the orchestra played some of their music, so she could understand Mr Jasper’s enthusiasm. Theo had said he would take her to some concerts here in Philadelphia to broaden her knowledge of other musicians.
Homesickness for England was a thing of the past. Beth wrote to the Langworthys just as regularly, and looked forward eagerly to their letters with news of Molly, but she no longer ached to go home.
It was living at Pearl’s that had changed Beth’s outlook the most. It was hard to disapprove of what went on in the house when she heard so much laughter and gaiety from the rooms above. She’d got to know all the girls, and none of them were hapless creatures who had been forced into the profession. They had chosen it. Some just wanted easy money, some were adventurers, and Missy had admitted to Beth she loved sex and saw no reason why she shouldn’t be paid for having it too.
Pearl’s entire house had a seductive atmosphere, with the girls’ scent, cigar smoke and the tinkling of the piano in the parlour. Even the laundry room down by Beth’s bedroom was always festooned with scanty silk and lace garments. Late at night, when she heard the sounds of bedsprings creaking, Beth found herself yearning to be in bed with Theo, to discover all that joy the girls alluded to.
She loved him, and she was reasonably secure that he cared for her too, for why else would he turn up at the end of an evening to escort her home, take her out for luncheon or bring her little presents of chocolates, flowers or a decoration for her hair? Pearl had pointed out that red-blooded men needed sex, and if they didn’t get it from the one they loved, they went elsewhere. She said only a fool would believe otherwise. And Pearl should know: a constant stream of married and betrothed men came to her door every evening.
It seemed to Beth that