'They . . . they aren't all like you, la.s.s.'

Josie looked deep into the br.i.m.m.i.n.g eyes and said softly, 'Nellie came back looking for you that night. She was so upset when she couldn't find you. I think at first she couldn't believe it was you and by the time she realised it was, you'd gone.'

'Oh, I don't mean Nellie, not really.' Lily flapped her hand before running it over her wet face and taking several deep audible gulps. Then, her tongue loosened, she burst out, 'I've never taken charity in me life, la.s.s. That's it at heart. Me mam an' da were the same; for right or wrong they believed in taking nowt from no one unless you'd earned it. After our mam died an' me da got middling, one of me brothers was going to take him in, but on the morning he was supposed to move our Bernie went round there an' me da had hanged himself with his own belt.'

Josie's eyes had widened but now she said urgently, 'You can't believe that was right, la.s.s. You can't. You've more sense than that. I can understand about . . . the workhouse, but not going to live with your own kith and kin.'

'Aye, well, I've no folk left, la.s.s.'

'You have now.' Josie hugged her again and repeated, 'You have now, all right? Let me help you. Please, Lily. And it's not charity, it's not. I . . . I've been a bit low recently, I'm missing home I suppose, and having you around will be wonderful. And we've always got on, haven't we?'

'But la.s.s--'

'No buts. Not one. Look, I'm doing all right now and if the position was reversed you'd do the same for me, you know you would.'

The tears were pouring from Lily's eyes again but when Josie pushed her towards the carriage and the other two inside reached out eager hands to pull her up, Lily didn't protest.

She was at the end of her tether, Josie thought, and who could blame her? If that place in there wasn't h.e.l.l on earth she didn't know what was. Those poor people, and they all looked starving. As she joined the others it was to find Nellie had her arms tight round Lily's slumped body and was saying over and over again, 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,' and Gertie was leaning forward holding one of Lily's limp hands.

Josie looked at the three of them, taking in Lily's closed eyes and the mortification and shame that was coming off the older woman in waves and, making a quick decision, she poked her head out of the carriage window and called to the driver, 'Do you know a good pie and peas shop anywhere round here?'

'I don't right off, ma'am, but ten to one there'll be one a couple of streets away if not at the end of the road. Them and the gin shops is what keeps folks alive round here.'

'Could you drive to one, please?' Settling back in her seat again Josie said quickly, 'Do you fancy giving that man back there another gliff, Lily?'

'What?' Lily raised herself, taking the handkerchief Josie was holding out as she said again, 'What do you mean?'

'How about we get enough pies and stuff for all those people back there and take them in? For the people in the other rooms too - there are people in the other rooms?' And at Lily's nod, Josie continued, warming to the theme, 'We'll get milk for the baby and children, and beer for the others too, and bread and oh - ma.s.ses of stuff. Yes? If we gave them money old Howard might well find a way to take it off them, but he can't stop food going in their bellies today. If nothing else they'll eat till they're full for once.'

'You an' your sister come with me an' at least you'll go home with full bellies the night.' Vera's words came back down the years and Josie realised she had never really forgotten them, or what it had meant that night, so long ago now, when she had eaten her fill for the first time she could remember.

'Do you mean it?' Lily sat up straighter. 'There's a good few of 'em, you know,' she added through her tears.

'That doesn't matter.' Josie grinned. 'Do you fancy giving Howard and his wife one in the eye then?'

'Do I ever, la.s.s. Do I ever.'

By the time the carriage returned to Hanging Row the four women were sitting with parcels of pies wrapped in newspapers which reached to the ceiling, or so it seemed, and the good-natured driver had cans of peas, along with several of milk, propped next to him on his seat. Josie had also bought beer, fresh loaves of warm bread, chunks of cheese and a large barrel of biscuits, and now there wasn't sight of a tear from Lily, caught up as she was in the excitement.

It was the Howards' daughter who opened the door again. This time Gertie stayed with the carriage and horse, and the driver came with Josie into the room in which the Howards were; Lily and Nellie distributing food into the other rooms. It was evident the driver had expected trouble after Josie had told him what was occurring when they were waiting outside the pie shop, but the Howards were like a pair of lambs as Josie encouraged everyone to eat and drink in the room in which Lily had worked. It might have been something to do with the bulky figure standing guard in the doorway - the driver was a big man, and imposing, and he had large hobnail boots and enormous hands - but afterwards Lily said she was sure it was more to do with what Howard himself would have seen as a visit from the witch who had cursed him.

The thanks from the inhabitants of the grim sweatshop were heartrending, and even the driver's stoical countenance was moved with compa.s.sion, the extent of which became apparent when, on reaching Park Place, he refused to take the money for the fares, even when Josie tried to press it on him.

'What a nice man.' As the four women watched the carriage depart Gertie summed up what they were all thinking. 'And he looked so tough on the outside, didn't he?'

Oliver didn't look particularly tough on the outside; he was elegant and handsome, and with an undeniable air about him, but not tough. Josie turned to the others, her expression thoughtful. Would he have been touched like the driver had been by what they'd witnessed that morning? She didn't know, she admitted silently, and that bothered her greatly. It also bothered her that she was going to have to oppose Oliver with regard to the one stipulation he had laid down about her helping Lily; namely that her old friend would not reside under their roof. It would only be for a short time, until Josie could find suitable accommodation, but at the moment the other woman was ill and in need of a doctor and that took precedence over everything. She didn't want Lily disappearing again, and if she farmed her off somewhere that was exactly what would happen - she felt it in her bones. Lily needed to be with people who cared about her even more than she needed food and medical attention, but Oliver wouldn't see it that way.

Oliver did not see it that way. He returned home that afternoon feeling tired and irritable, having lost a great deal at the gaming table the night before - money he did not have in the first place. Instead of the serene, orderly household which had been his before he'd married, he felt as though he had walked into a bear garden, he flung at Josie moments before he stalked out of the house after growling that he would have dinner at his club.

He did not drive the horse and carriage to the Gentlemen's Club in Oxford Street of which he was a member; he walked instead, and all the time his mind was worrying at his mountain of debts rather than the fact that he had left his new young wife in tears.

He had been a fool to be tempted by that game last night, he told himself wearily. He'd known it even before he'd sat down, d.a.m.n it. But Stratton had made it difficult to refuse. The thought of the other man caused Oliver to walk more slowly, wondering for the first time whether Stratton knew Stella had been his mistress. It was possible. He was a wily old bird, Stratton. Oliver would have to be careful of playing against him in the future; last night he had felt something was amiss, but how could you accuse a lord of the realm and one of the Prince of Wales's confidants of cheating at cards? Moreover he'd had no proof, just a gut instinct.

It was always Stratton who referred to the weekends he and other gay bloods had enjoyed at the Hogarth estate before his father lost everything, too. He had it on good authority that Stratton himself had been one of the young bucks who had broken his father in that last card-game, and then within days his parents had been lost at sea and he'd been left with very little more than the clothes he'd stood up in. His father's gambling made his own losses of late appear small in comparison, although that five hundred last night was d.a.m.ned awkward.

Still, he'd been in deeper than this in the past once or twice, and hung on until Lady Luck had smiled at him again. Luck, and his undeniable talent in both cards and the profession he'd chosen, that was. He had some of the best names in the business on his books; talking of which . . . He stopped abruptly, frowning against the cold clear April sunlight as he tapped his gold-topped walking stick against one of the iron railings fronting a smart townhouse. Confound it, he hadn't told Josie he had just secured her second billing at the new Apollo in Shaftesbury Avenue. Considering it had only been open for a couple of months it reflected well on her, and at fifty pounds a week it wouldn't do future engagements any harm at all. He had been right about her, she was going to be a star.

He adjusted his hat, tapping it forward on his brow. The last thought had not given him the pleasure it would have done a few months ago. His beautiful young wife had a mind of her own and that mind seemed set against him at every turn lately. Stella had been strong-willed but in a different way; at least she had seen eye to eye with him on matters of social behaviour and etiquette, but Josie seemed determined to make them a laughing stock with this last act of turning his home into a refuge for every Tom, d.i.c.k or Harry.

He started walking again, his blood pressure rising. Didn't she realise that the a.s.sociates and friendships she formed in her private life away from the stage reflected heavily on him? Philanthrophy had its place of course, and it was a mark of England being a civilised country that workhouses and such had been provided for those who needed them, but one didn't take such people into one's home. Vagrancy was next to G.o.dlessness, and most of these people who populated the hovels in the city only had themselves to blame for their idleness. This woman, this Lily Atkinson, she was little better than a wh.o.r.e, from what he remembered. She had been only too willing to sport with him that night in Hartlepool. And now she was residing in his home and being fussed over by his staff and his own private physician. d.a.m.n it. d.a.m.n it.

'Oliver? Oliver!'

It was a moment or two before Oliver heard the voice attempting to attract his attention. He was jerked out of his caustic thoughts, and on glancing across to the smart carriage and pair his gaze met a pair of saucy blue eyes set in a smiling face that was undeniably lovely.

'You were far away. Is anything the matter?' Stella Stratton said lightly. She knew from experience that such an att.i.tude was the best line to take with Oliver. He loathed confrontation or emotion of any kind, and over the course of her liaison with this man, first before her marriage and then continuing afterwards at her insistence, she had constantly tried to hide her love for him, knowing he would find it an irritation. Desire and pa.s.sion were the only emotions Oliver considered real, or had done before he had met that little chit who was now his wife. His wife. He had known that Stella herself would have married him at the drop of a hat and he had always insisted he wasn't the marrying kind, and it was only when she had fully accepted that, that she had married G.o.dfrey.

'The matter?' Oliver forced a smile. 'Why should anything be the matter, Stella, and does Stratton know you're out cavorting on your own without his driver?'

'Oh, don't be stuffy, darling, you know these little traps are all the rage.' Stella's languid hand took in the smart fashionable carriage and the two beautiful chestnut mares which had cost her longsuffering husband a small fortune. 'Any woman who is anybody drives her own carriage these days; it's such fun.'

Stella was wearing a tailored dress and coat in dove grey trimmed with silver braid, and her hat was of three different shades of grey with two curling silver feathers tilting low over her forehead. It suited her blonde hair and warm peach colouring, enhancing the blue of her eyes, and as always she had dressed very carefully, knowing her proposed ride would take her into the vicinity of St James's. Since Oliver had finished their affair she had chosen the same route every afternoon she was in town, hoping for just such a meeting as had occurred today.

She hadn't been able to believe it for days when he had cast her off. And she still hadn't accepted it. She would not accept it, she told herself now as she smiled into the eyes of the man she loved. The reason for her dismissal from his bed after five years and more became clear when she heard the rumours that he was infatuated with one of his clients. Oliver, of all people! But she had also realised that with this new development, she couldn't cause one of the scenes she had indulged in in the past when his eye had roved. She would lose him completely if she did. But she wasn't beaten yet, oh no, not by a long chalk. Oliver belonged to her; she knew him inside out and no one could satisfy him like she did, certainly not some little baggage from the music halls.

'Come and ride with me, I'll take you to wherever you're going.' She kept her voice casual and smooth, straightening the skirt of her dress as though her appearance was the only thing of concern. 'We hardly seem to see each other at all these days. Are you in hibernation since your marriage?'

He stared at her, surprised at her nonchalant tone and the fact she had mentioned his marriage. It was true their paths had crossed but rarely since he had married Josie, but he had thought it was due to Stella avoiding contact for some reason of her own. 'No, I am not in hibernation, Stella, merely busy.'

'Not too busy to ride with an old friend, surely?' Her voice held just the right note of hurt reproach and she saw him blink for a moment. 'We are still friends, aren't we?' she added sadly.

'Of course we are.' But Stella knew as well as he did that it would be the height of indiscretion for them to be seen riding together. It would be a statement in itself, and although G.o.dfrey might be dull and prosaic he was not stupid. In fact, he was an extremely intelligent man. And if something like this got back to Josie . . . 'But I chose not to drive because I wanted a walk,' he continued quickly, smiling to soften the refusal.

Stella bowed her head for a moment. 'I miss you, Oliver, but I don't suppose I should say that, should I?'

'Stella--'

'I know, I know.' She interrupted him swiftly, one gloved hand raised in fluttering acquiescence. 'But I can't help it. We had some good times, didn't we?'

For a moment the memory of his past life - when his home was his own and he was in control of all areas of his life, including his relationship with the woman closest to him - hit Oliver with a poignancy that took him unawares. He stared at Stella and she stared back, reading the naked sentiment with its touch of pathos in his face as her heart leaped. Was Oliver finding married life too claustrophobic? Stella lowered her head again, frightened he would read the elation in her eyes. Careful, careful, she warned herself. If she was going to get him back, and she was going to get him back, she had to tread carefully here. Oliver could be more autocratic than G.o.dfrey at times, and if he suspected she still loved him . . . It was strange, considering Oliver was such a quick-witted man, that he had never really understood how she felt about him. But then, did she? He was an obsession, she supposed, but one which was enduring. 'Anyway, I must be going if you're sure I can't persuade you to ride to your destination?'

Oh, what the h.e.l.l! After that one initial outburst she had been d.a.m.ned good about their split, d.a.m.ned good, and after the way Stratton had dealt with him last night he didn't owe her husband any consideration.

And Josie? He ignored the warning voice at the back of his mind, answering it with, Stella was an old friend - hadn't she just said so herself? And if his wife hadn't defied him - yes, defied him - he wouldn't even be here right now. All in all he'd been dealt with abominably, and to give Stella her due she would never have presumed to act with such impropriety as Josie had done. And what was a carriage-ride, when all was said and done? They moved in the same social circle and it was going to be better for everyone, including Josie, if any awkwardness between the Strattons and themselves was overcome.

'I'm going to my club. Is that out of your way?' he asked.

'Of course not.' Stella smiled again, the feathers on her hat dipping and waving, and after just a moment's more hesitation Oliver climbed up beside her.

Part 4.

Old Ties and New Beginnings 1905.

Chapter Eighteen.

The last four years had seen mixed fortunes for Britain's working cla.s.s. Severe smallpox epidemics brought doctors calling for nationwide vaccination programmes as people died in their thousands, and when King Edward VII had an emergency operation for appendicitis, thereby delaying the ma.s.sive celebrations planned for his Coronation - and which his advisers had felt would be an uplift for everyone after the ravages of the smallpox - the King treated the poor of London to dinner. Over 456,000 diners at 700 venues throughout the capital sat down to a veritable feast, hundreds of entertainers being booked for the occasion.

Josie herself sang for the crowds at Covent Garden where the big hall was bedecked with flowers and Chinese lanterns, and in Lambeth no fewer than 6,000 people were fed plum puddings cooked over a fire in a trench. Everyone agreed there would never be another day to match it.

Less than two months after his operation Edward was crowned on a bright sunny summer's day, but the following years saw much unrest for the new King at home. A state of emergency was proclaimed in Ireland; a new militant women's movement led by a Mrs Emmeline Pankhurst caused furious controversy; the miners' unions and others began to gain ground and demand basic human rights for the working man; and although the politicians claimed greater numbers of the poor were receiving relief in Britain than ever before, every winter saw thousands dying of malnutrition and cold. The working cla.s.s was questioning with a vengeance the old order of things which said the rich got richer and the poor got poorer, and all over the country different factions were challenging the wealthy upper cla.s.s, the employers and land owners, and not least the judicial system itself.

To those outside her immediate circle however, it appeared that Josie's four and a half years of married life had been happy ones, untouched by the prevailing unrest. At twenty-two years of age she had blossomed into one of the most beautiful women in London; her figure slim and straight but rounded in all the right places, and her eyes and hair calling forth as much acclaim from the critics as her outstanding voice.

By the end of her second year in the capital she had become a firm favourite of the London halls, easily commanding fees of approaching a hundred pounds a week. Gone were the days when she'd found herself dashing from one theatre to another and then back again several times a night, in order to support Gertie and herself and send money home to Vera for her mother. Now, more often than not, she had her own dressing room and refreshments served there after each of her two nightly performances.

She was feted and adored and made much of by the general public, her popularity enhanced, ironically, by the very attribute which had caused an ever-widening rift between her husband and herself. Namely that of Josie's altruistic championing of the underdog.

Lily had proved to be a catalyst both in Josie's private and public life. Her predicament and the terrible circ.u.mstances in which Josie had found her friend had opened the younger woman's eyes to the fact that Lily was one of many veterans of the halls who had never advanced into anything approaching reasonable money. These performers were often in poor health from their gruelling life on the boards and more often than not had no savings or home of their own, due to the gypsy-style life of the average entertainer. In their old age a great many found themselves cast, quite literally in some cases, into the gutter, there to die in squalor and loneliness. And once Josie's eyes had been opened there was no going back.

Against Oliver's express wishes, Josie had rented a small house at the back of the Caledonian Market - where on Fridays bargain-hunters gathered in search of everything from Old Masters and rare plate, to rusty bolts and chipped china, and which on Mondays and Thursdays was used as London's cattle-market - and she had installed Lily in it. Nellie was more than happy to depart her lodgings and live with Lily; the younger woman's only stipulation being she would finish the arrangement when her work moved her out of the capital to the provinces.

By the time this happened, Josie had already heard of two more old-timers in desperate need of help through Lily herself and her contacts throughout the halls. The older woman had been told, firmly but gently by Oliver's doctor, that she would never be able to consider a strenuous working life again, but she took great delight in caring for the other two women who were much older than Lily and pathetically grateful for a roof over their heads.

The surrounding neighbourhood got used to the sight of the latest star of the music halls delivering a sack of coal or potatoes and other groceries in her carriage and pair, and street gossip being what it was, it soon got round that 'Miss Josie Burns, her that was such a hit in the West End, had a heart of pure gold under all her fine togs'. And no one said this more vehemently than Lily.

At first she had been hard-pressed to take in her miraculous - as Lily herself termed it - deliverance from the Howards in the East End. Her weak state and ill-health caused her to sleep for twenty or so hours out of every twenty-four. But after a couple of weeks her exhausted body and bruised mind had started to fight back, and within two months she was the old Lily again, mentally at least. Physically, she was now unable to push herself and for a time she found that hard to take. However, once Josie had come up with the bright idea of moving in the other two women when Nellie's decision to leave was announced, Lily felt she was doing something again.

'I've never been one for sitting on my backside, la.s.s,' she confided to Josie the night they discussed the possibility of the others joining Lily. 'Me mam used to say idle hands made work for the devil an' I reckon she was right. And I'll like the company an' all of an evening. Nellie's a good la.s.s, none better, but with her working every night the evenings fair dragged.'

'But you're not to do any housework or washing or anything like that, mind,' Josie warned her old friend. 'Constance or Ethel are going to pop round for a few hours each day to deal with all that, and to prepare the main evening meal. It'll be more than enough for you to keep an eye on the others and get breakfast and a bite at lunchtime, all right? We'll see how it goes, eh? If it's too much for you we'll think again.'

'Too much for me?' Lily looked at her scornfully. 'Ee, la.s.s, if looking after two old biddies is too much for me I might as well pop me clogs right now.'

Josie had smiled but said nothing more. Lily's fighting spirit was back and that boded nothing but good for the future.

When the house Josie was renting for the women came up for sale after a few months she bought it - once more against Oliver's advice. Eighteen months later she was able to negotiate buying the properties either side of it, and within a matter of weeks the builders she hired had converted the three into one whole. This now housed eleven women, comprising Lily - whom Josie had put in charge of the household - along with a live-in housekeeper and cook, and eight other residents.

This was all accomplished independently of Oliver who had made it crystal clear he thought she was throwing good money after bad, and wanted no part of such a financially draining undertaking. For her part Josie made it plain to her husband that she was well aware of his gambling debts, which were beginning to eat away at every single penny she earned.

With the law of the land heavily favouring the husband in any matters of finance, after consulting with Gertie, Josie decided that she would be wise to have the deeds of the new property made out in the name of Miss Gertrude Burns. At the same time she settled a regular proportion of her income to be paid directly into an account she set up in Gertie's name. Whatever happened in the future, this made Lily and the other women safe.

By the time all this was concluded, towards the end of her third year of marriage, Josie was reconciled to the fact that she had two separate lives running parallel with each other; each one so different as to be irreconcilable with the other.

Her work in the music halls; the time she spent with Lily and the other women; her appearances for charity and good causes; and her friendships with Mrs Wilde, Constance and Ethel all belonged to one life. The other, vastly less enjoyable, was bound up with being Oliver's wife, with all that embodied.

In spite of having recognised the truth Oliver had kept hidden from her during their engagement, that his gambling was every bit as excessive and out of control as his father's had been, that it was an addiction, a disease, Josie still felt commitment to their marriage. She had married Oliver thinking he was the strong one, but in reality she provided the emotional and financial backbone of their relationship, and at times it was exhausting. But there was no going back. She had taken her vows before G.o.d and man and she was Oliver's wife.

However, what had begun as the odd altercation over issues such as Lily had s...o...b..lled into cool silences from Oliver which could last hours or days when Josie did or said something with which he disagreed. Oliver had belief in his own special position as a member of the upper cla.s.s that went far beyond self-centredness. Josie had grown to understand that her husband considered himself superior to most of his fellow men simply because of an accident of birth, and along with that had developed a kind of imperiousness she found staggering at times.

Oliver Hogarth should be able to do what he wanted: hadn't his ancestors consorted with n.o.bility and ruled a vast country estate that had taken up half of Hertfordshire? Therefore his word should be law and he shouldn't be opposed. He wanted to gamble and so he gambled; it was as simple as that, and he would not apologise for it.

Josie found she had married a man who could behave like a spoilt adolescent at times, or a cool, unapproachable stranger at others, and then again - when all was well - Oliver reverted into the charming, warm, amusing man she had first fallen in love with. It was confusing and wearing, and in the midst of the long weekend parties in country houses she attended as his wife and which she hated in the main, the select musical soirees he arranged, the dinner-parties and other equally draining social activities, she fulfilled her current commitment in the theatre several nights a week. If she had been prepared to compromise her own opinions and convictions Josie knew they would have got on better, but the price for a happy marriage was too high. She cared about people, and especially those who had come from the sort of beginnings she had been born into. It was a gut instinct to do something, even if it was a drop in the ocean in the overall scheme of things, and just as Oliver would not apologise for who and what he was, neither would she.

Oliver's counsel - as her agent rather than her husband - that she should stay in the capital and concentrate on establishing her name and position as one of the leading female performers of the halls was wise, and Josie knew it, but she missed the north-east more than she would have thought possible.

She brought Vera and Horace down to London to stay several times but it wasn't the same as going home, and although she had accepted one or two engagements in the big halls in Birmingham, and the lead female part in a winter pantomime in Manchester's prestigious Theatre Royal - such an honour couldn't be refused, Oliver had insisted - that was the furthest north she'd got.

Through Vera, Josie had learned that Barney had disappeared for some twelve months after Pearl's demise before popping up in Scotland, where he'd secured a reputable position as manager of Glasgow's ma.s.sive Empire Theatre in Sauchiehall Street. Doubtless Barney would settle down in Glasgow and make a new life for himself, Vera had gone on, which would be the best thing for the lad in her book. This had been said during one of Vera's visits in Josie's second year of marriage, and when Josie had made no reply but had left the room shortly afterwards, Vera and Gertie had exchanged a long look and the subject of Barney and his future hadn't been mentioned again.

It had been shortly after this visit of Vera's that Mr Webb had reported to Josie that his colleague in Sunderland had been unable to make contact with her brother, Hubert, as she'd requested. His colleague's investigations had been fruitless and he'd suspected people were being deliberately unhelpful. Mrs Hogarth had to appreciate there was only so much which could be done in this regard, and as his colleague had been trying for well over twelve months to no avail it really was time to call it a day. Her brothers were young men now with minds of their own, and not to put too fine a point on it, they had obviously decided they did not want to see their sisters again. No doubt if they changed their minds in the future, Mrs Hogarth would hear from them. If they did not . . .

Josie had thanked Mr Webb, paid both him and his colleague in Sunderland handsomely for their trouble, and had seemingly put the matter out of her mind, much to Gertie's relief. Privately, however, there wasn't a day that pa.s.sed when Josie didn't dwell on thoughts of Barney and her brothers.

Gertie herself had no desire for the north-east or anyone in it, and this feeling was cemented when, much to her surprise for she had decided long ago that she would remain single all her life, the manager-c.u.m-bookkeeperc.u.m-administrator of Oliver's agency showed an interest in her which she in turn reciprocated.

Anthony Taylor was a small thin man with a pleasant face and prematurely receding hair, and was some ten years older than Gertie, but the two hit it off immediately and began walking out within a few months of Josie's marriage. Anthony lived with his mother in a small but nicely furnished house in Hammersmith which was only twenty minutes' walk from Oliver's office, and Gertie was often invited to tea before she and Anthony went to a variety show or dancing, or yet again to an art gallery or promenade concert. Like quite a few of the educated middle cla.s.ses, Anthony expressed an interest in writers, musicians and painters, and he opened up a new world to Gertie. That he was an academic and somewhat phlegmatic man there was no doubt, but this suited Gertie admirably, as did their staid and pa.s.sionless courtship.

'I don't want to fall madly in love, I never have,' Gertie confessed candidly to Josie one day some twelve months after she had started courting Anthony. Her sister had asked her how she felt about her beau. 'In fact, I don't think I'm capable of it, to be truthful. But I like Anthony; I enjoy being with him and I respect and admire him, and he's teaching me so much. And his mam - his mother,' she corrected quickly, since Anthony had taken it upon himself to relieve Gertie of her broad northern accent, with her full co-operation, 'she's so easy to get on with.'

And so the slow and very correct courtship had continued to the present day, although Josie had no doubt that when the time was right in Anthony's opinion, he would ask her sister to marry him and Gertie would accept.

But now it was the summer of 1905, and with the Commons giving a second reading of a bill to provide London with electricity, and car owners protesting that police speed-traps to catch anyone driving faster than the legal limit of 20mph were wildly inaccurate, the capital was in the midst of a metamorphosis the like of which hadn't been seen in previous decades.

Evidence of social advancements was not clear to Josie, however, when she and Gertie and Lily entered one of the worst tenement districts of London's East End on a sunny morning towards the end of July. Josie had been notified of the plight of an old singer-c.u.m-dancer of Spanish-Irish descent by a mysterious 'well-wisher' a few days earlier. After checking the name with Lily, the fount of all music-hall knowledge, Josie discovered that the woman in question had been a rather temperamental performer who had become mentally deranged by the loss of her second husband. The gentleman in question had expired whilst making love to his current mistress. When the said Lottie Lemoine - the husband had been a Frenchman, Lily had said darkly; never, but never get involved with a Frenchman - had taken to jumping down into the audience and accosting any poor man who resembled her late husband, the music halls had closed ranks against her. Although Lily's telling of the story had been hilarious, Josie had felt immensely sorry for the tragic Lottie, and had therefore decided to visit the address which had been left by word of mouth with her current theatre manager.

Gertie had been against the idea, but then as Anthony had made it plain in recent months that his opinion coincided with Oliver's on the matter of Josie's generosity to the unfortunates of the music-hall profession, Josie hadn't expected anything else. She had told Gertie, and not for the first time, that Anthony was ent.i.tled to his views but that she would prefer Gertie to keep them to herself, and that her sister did not have to accompany her to the address in the East End. After a difficult ten minutes when a few home truths were expressed by both women, Gertie had decided she would go with her as usual.

Josie would have much preferred to just go with Lily, who was a tower of strength in these sorts of situations and always seemed to know just the right words to say to defuse any difficulties, but she nevertheless accepted the extended olive branch.

The area the three women were in was well known for its gin shops which were in full feather night and day, their swinging doors never still. An itinerant band was blowing and banging on one street corner and a scruffy organ boy grinding monotonously on another, but although the fine weather was making the smells worse, Josie preferred it to the last time she'd pa.s.sed this way on a similar mission. Then gas flares had been burning in the streets at midday because of the thick choking fog, and small boys with flaring torches had guided people along the streets. In an area renowned for its crime, it was rea.s.suring today to be able to see what was ahead.

This present mission turned out to be abortive, however. Lottie had pa.s.sed away two days previously, an obese matriarch swathed in a long shapeless black dress told them, the dress somehow giving the woman the aspect of a pantomime charlady. The body had already been taken away and the room cleared, but Lottie's end had been peaceful, if that proved to be any comfort?

'Thank you.' It wasn't the first time Josie had undertaken such a task and been disappointed in the last years, but there was something different about this occasion. The woman had asked them into the kitchen straight off for a start, rather than keeping them standing at the door whilst she asked their business, and both the hall and the kitchen, although devoid of any comfort being utilitarian and starkly functional, were clearly freshly whitewashed and scrupulously clean. There were none of the bad smells a.s.sociated with this poor area either, and the stone-flagged floors would have pa.s.sed even Vera's standard of housekeeping. 'I understand Lottie was working at the box-making factory until recently?' Josie said quietly. 'Do I owe you anything for her board and lodging, or the funeral expenses?'

'No, la.s.s, you don't owe me nowt.'

Perhaps it was the broad northern accent, or yet again the lively brown eyes whose brightness seemed unquenched by the hardships life had undoubtedly imposed upon the woman, but Josie had a strange feeling upon her. She ignored Gertie's, 'Come on then, let's get home,' and said instead to the woman, 'You're from the north?'