Slammerkin - Emma Donoghue [143]
'And the Lord shall smite thee with madness, hissed the nurse, 'and blindness, and astonishment of heart.'
Was the girl going to cry? Her eyes were burning holes in her pale face as she turned. 'Judge not,' she told Mrs. Ash in a shaking voice, 'that's what the Good Book says too. Judge not, lest ye—'
But before she could summon up the rest, she'd been interrupted. Mrs. Ash's sharp fingertips almost met in the girl's soft arm. 'You dare to quote Scripture at me, you poxy little drab!'
Mary shook her off with one violent motion. In the girl's eyes, Mrs. Ash could see a change, as Mary registered the fact that there was no use in further denials. The serpent shed her disguise. 'At least men pay good money for me,' Mary spat over her shoulder as she went up the last few steps. 'You'd have to pay them yourself.'
Mrs. Ash's ears were ringing like church bells. She made a last grab.
'Take your hands off my dress!'
There was an appalling rip. The dirty white shift showed through the cloth of Mary's skirt. The girl reached down and gave the nurse a shove hard enough to send her down five steps.
Mrs. Ash landed against the wall. She dusted herself with trembling hands. Her breath was loud with panic and outrage. 'Very well,' she gasped, 'I'll trouble you no further. I'll just go and wake the Joneses now, if they're not awake already. You'd best be packing your bags.'
'You wouldn't.' The girl's tone was doubtful.
Mrs. Ash could suddenly see how young this creature was. She'd never felt such power before. It swelled like yeast in her mouth: 'See if I don't.'
Now it was Mary's turn to crouch down on the steps. 'Please.'
'Please what, you godless whore? What can you say for yourself?'
The girl was silent.
Mrs. Ash put her hands on her hips, and looked up at her. 'Did you think you could bring your sluttish ways into a respectable town like this and no one would notice? Turning our own curate into a filthy-pawed pimp? How dare you serve a good mistress by day and go trulling round town by night, dragging this whole household down into the dirt with you!'
'Don't tell the mistress.' The girl was beginning to sob, but her cheeks were still dry. 'She'll turn me out of doors.'
'Good enough for you.'
Mary's eyes were glittering when she raised her head. 'I've nowhere else to go. Please, Mrs. Ash. I'm sorry for what I said. Please don't tell. I was driven to do what I did, at the Crow's Nest,' said the girl finally, the words spilling out. 'It was only a couple of times. I needed the money.'
'For what?'
'Old debts.'
That came out a little too glibly; was the girl lying? Mrs. Ash peered up at her, trying to read her pale face.
'It was the only way I could think of to pay them off,' Mary rushed on. Then her voice turned a little wheedling. 'You know yourself, madam, what it's like to be so reduced in your circumstances, that...'
'That what?' asked the nurse, dangerously.
'That you have to make a ... a trade of your body.'
Mrs. Ash was rooted to the spot. She let herself imagine smashing this girl's head against the wall. 'It is hardly the same,' she said icily.
'No. Not at all.' With another sob: 'Forgive me.'
The nurse stared up at the harlot. Her triumph was suddenly mixed with exhaustion. She knew she wouldn't go and wake Mrs. Jones. Not tonight, not just yet. She would hold onto this moment as long as she liked. Maybe a day, maybe a month. Such a gorgeous sensation, might and mercy mixed. And the girl abased on the steps and weeping like a baby, knowing that it was in the older woman's power to ruin her, any hour of any day. 'I'm going to my bed now,' Mrs. Ash told her with the gravity of a queen.
Mary, watching the dark figure disappear in the stairwell below, blinked the tears back into her sockets. She stood up and examined the damage; the seam was ripped all along her waist. The old bitch would pay for that, somehow, she promised herself. The hypocrisy of the woman,