Time passes strangely, in the dark. I couldn’t have been trapped in the hole for too long; they wouldn’t have been able to spare me from the workroom for whole days together. I know that. But it felt like an eternity. I swear I aged, down there.
You believe in purgatory, don’t you, miss? I suppose it was like that. Dark as death but not dark enough, not the oblivion I longed for. Just enough consciousness remained to torment me.
Was this how the world appeared to Ma? Impenetrably black and chill? It occurred to me, as I lay there in the soot, that maybe Ma wasn’t the blind one. She saw things as they truly were: cold and devoid of colour. The rest of us were fooled by chimeras.
I couldn’t get it straight in my head why Ivy and Daisy would play this trick on me. At least Rosalind Oldacre had reasons. She despised my poverty, envied my sewing skills. And hurting me in front of the other girls made her look strong. But this … I’d done nothing to either of the twins. They were parentless and destitute, just like me. Why couldn’t we be friends?
I’d hoped to find some friends, at long last, in Mim and Nell. Something to make me feel less alone in the world, less isolated by my curse. But they’d stood there and said nothing while Kate dragged me away. It would have only taken one breath, three words to save me. ‘It was Ivy.’ They couldn’t even spare me that.
Left there much longer, I would have fallen into self-pity. I might have turned to coal myself. But just as I hugged my arms tight around my chest, feeling the reliable solidity of my corset, a glint shot past my eye. Against the felted darkness, it was bright as a shooting star. Another. Spots floated in my vision, the effect of sudden light on eyes grown accustomed to the gloom. Through the chinks in the trapdoor, I saw the gleam of an approaching lamp.
Relief fought with fear. If this was Miss Kate come back, I might still be in for a beating. Yet it didn’t sound like Kate’s tread. It was too heavy, too slow.
A bolt slid, painfully loud. The hatch creaked. I felt a gust of air and then – light.
I squinted, covering my face with my hands, a wiggling creature unearthed. From above, a voice addressed me. It was kind, satin-soft.
‘Are you all right, down there?’
In my surprise, I lowered my hands. The light still hurt, but I needed to brave it and make sure I could believe my ears. The person who had spoken was a man.
His features, articulated by the lamp, were not ones I recognised. Then I saw the eyes: shimmering, flickering blue.
‘Mr Rooker? Is that you?’
He raised a finger to his lips. ‘Quiet, now. Try and stand up. Slowly.’
All my torpor had gone. Replacing it was a glow, achingly sweet. Someone cared for me. Someone had cared enough to come to my rescue.
After hours cramped in one position, my body didn’t want to unfold; the joints making a creaking noise like the hatch when it opened. When I gained my feet my legs trembled, but the corset propped me up.
‘That’s it. Good girl.’ He placed the lamp on the kitchen floor. Shadows swam around us as he reached down. ‘Can you give me your hand?’
I gripped his arm at the elbow. My skin appeared grimy beside his. I was too wretched to feel embarrassed about that, or the soot clogged in my hair and smeared over my face.
Billy heaved and I scrabbled up. I flopped on to my hands and knees on the kitchen floor and coughed. It was still the same kitchen, damp and dreary, but compared to the coal hole its air seemed pure, forcing the soot from my lungs.
‘Thank you,’ I spluttered. Billy thumped me on the back. I coughed until my eyes watered.
‘Look at the state of you.’ He said it with indulgence, like a fondly scolding parent. Producing a handkerchief from his pocket, he spat on it and began to scrub my cheek.
It reminded me of Ma. Now I was glad the cough had made my eyes stream; it meant he couldn’t see me cry.
Gradually, I got my bearings. There was no light except the honeyed pool at the base of his lamp. It must be late.
‘Well, at least I can see your face now.’
He dropped the handkerchief beside the lamp. Long, black streaks tarnished the cotton. ‘I’ve ruined your handkerchief,’ I lamented.
‘You can owe me a new one.’ Billy winked. He knew, as well as I, that I could never afford such a thing.
‘How do you come to be here, Mr Rooker?’
‘Call me Billy, please. The Metyards invited me to dinner. I’m on my way home just now.’
He leant against the sink and pulled himself up. ‘Miriam told me you’d run afoul of Kate. The poor girl was worried. She didn’t know where you were.’
So Mim had fretted about me. She must have been in this very room, cooking for the Metyards, and neither of us had heard the other. That was an unsettling thought. Like knowing someone had walked over my grave.
‘I reckoned you’d be here,’ Billy went on. ‘I’ve rescued Nelly from the coal hole a few times before.’
The way he spoke took me aback. As if this was an everyday occurrence, not to be remarked upon.
‘She put Nell down there, too?’
‘Aye, sometimes.’
The specks of soot seemed to form into Kate’s shadow; a shade hovering between us. Billy appeared kind, heroic even, rescuing trapped apprentices. It didn’t make the least bit of sense that he’d engage himself to someone like her. Could men overlook such glaring moral faults for a pretty face?
‘Won’t she be furious?’ I whispered. ‘Miss Metyard, I mean. When she finds out you’ve freed me …’
He extended his hand again, helped me to my feet. ‘Not to worry. You leave Kate to me. Her bark is worse than her bite.’
The scars on Mim’s back told a different story.
Billy didn’t let go of my hand. Instead, he tugged me gently towards the kitchen door. Nell was waiting on the other side with a bucket of water and a linen towel.
‘I thought you’d need to get washed up,’ she explained. ‘The mistresses are reading upstairs. Kate won’t come to fetch us from the sewing room for about an hour yet. Shall I put this bucket by your bed? Then you can sneak straight under the covers and she’ll not see you.’
God knew it was a feeble offering, but I’d never felt more grateful to a living soul. Mim, Nell and Billy – the three of them, considering my comfort. Almost like friends.
‘Thank you,’ I said. It sounded inadequate.
Billy released my hand. ‘Nelly will look after you. She’s a good girl,’ he added with a smile. It was not returned by Nell. ‘Now I’d better be getting home. I’ve a mother who’ll worry about me.’
I couldn’t help the small sob that escaped my lips. Nell glared daggers at him.
Billy winced. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You’re from the Foundling, are you?’
I shook my head. ‘No. My mother used to work for Mrs Metyard. She … she had to sell me to her.’
A sigh. ‘Poor lamb. I wager you miss her something fierce.’
All I could manage was a nod.
I was glad he didn’t say anything else; didn’t try to cheer me with platitudes. With a respectful incline of the head and a pat on Nell’s shoulder he walked away, towards the showroom and the door that led to freedom.
Nell and I watched him go.
‘He’s a lucky bastard,’ she said. There was no malice in her words. All the same, I could tell it cost her pain to see his liberty, the way he could waltz in and out of our nightmare as he chose.
‘He saved me. Right now he’s my favourite person alive.’
Nell gave a tight smile. ‘You silly noodle. Come on, let’s get this bucket to the cellar before they catch us. Otherwise we’ll both end up in the hole.’
Nell left me alone in the cellar to wash and change as best I could, by the feeble light sneaking in from the street above. I was as filthy as a chimney-sweep. Again and again I passed a sponge over my arms, revealing what looked like brand-new skin beneath. Rinsing the sponge, I saw soot ribbons twisting into the water, turning it the colour of smoke.
I picked up the linen towel, rubbed it over my chest.
And then a strange thing happened.
The hooks of my corset gave way. For the first time in months, the casing slipped from my body and fell to the floor.
I stood there, naked, staring at it. At myself.
Lines marked my torso where the cording had pressed into the skin. I ought to have been relieved, but I wasn’t. My stomach felt odd without its familiar pressure. Exposed. It wasn’t a release to be out of the corset’s clutches. It was lonely.
Hastily, I stuffed my nightgown over my head and picked up the corset, my dear companion. There were no stains. Soot lightly peppered the laces, but that was all. I folded it, tucked it under my pillow.
What could it mean?
I lay down.
There’s nothing like hardship to make you appreciate the good things in your life. The pallet, which I’d loathed, was now a comfort. Better than the coal hole floor by far. But still I didn’t fall asleep.
Most nights I spent awake, dwelling upon those I’d lost. My nightmares showed me visions of Naomi’s throttled face, Pa’s splattered brains; all the evil I’d done and couldn’t escape. Tonight I saw a different image: blue eyes, sparkling by lamplight.
Billy. I whispered his name to myself, savouring the way it felt in my mouth. I hadn’t met any other young men. Could it be that they were all as kind and bright as him? I doubted it. There was something different about Billy, something extraordinary, although I couldn’t decide what it was. I only knew that, in the two times I’d been in his presence, I felt more alive than I usually did.
Pressing my ear deep in the pillow, I listened to my corset. No creaking, now. It slumbered.
Guilt itched at me. Did the corset know? Had it abandoned me because I’d found some friends?
Perhaps that was for the best. Perhaps, I thought, with these people at my side, I didn’t need a corset to keep me strong. I could get by alone.
Well, miss. You see how that’s turned out.