Whitechapel: The Final Stand of Sherlock Holmes by Bernard J. Schaffer Page A
Authors: Bernard J. Schaffer
Ads: Link
already?”
“Yes,” Annie said, smiling nervously as she handed the dress over to Irene. She proudly displayed the torn seam she’d sewn. “I put double stitches in it. Won’t trouble yeh again, Miss Adler. I swears by it.”
“Excellent,” Irene said, taking it from her. “It looks wonderful. I promise to wear it at the nearest opportunity.”
“It would be lovely to see yeh in it, Miss Adler. Thanks for giving me the chance to do a little work for you. We certainly needed the money.”
Irene hung up the dress and turned away from Annie, eyeing her wigs and makeup, hoping it was an obvious enough hint that she needed time to get ready. In truth, Irene had the finest tailors in all of London at her disposal. Men who were practically begging for the chance to create new fashions for the famous prima donna of La Scala. Certainly, they were better suited for the repairs than a common street person like Annie Chapman.
When Irene first chanced upon Annie, the woman was crying in a dark corner backstage, loudly enough that Irene could not walk past without at least inquiring if she was all right. Through thick tears, Annie blurted out the difficulties she and her family were having and asked if Irene knew of any work that was available around the theater. Irene, even as she told herself the simpler, less-involving answer would be to tell the woman no, she instead found herself mentioning that she had a few dresses in need of some light repair work. With a sigh, she asked if Annie perhaps knew how to thread a needle and sew a bit?
I certainly overpaid her for it too, Irene thought. Most of the work was sloppy, with uneven stitching and unfinished seams. That little crying jag had, in all likelihood, been a staged performance designed to catch her eye from the start, Irene reasoned. Ah well. The damn circus people were heading off for France anyway. “I seem to be all fixed up then, Annie. Which is good, I suppose, since you are all leaving us after tonight, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, Miss Adler,” Annie said, looking down. “It’s fortunate you should bring that up, as I was wanting to speak to you about it. They leave off tonight, and you’ve been such a big inspiration to us all that I wanted to say thank you and bid you goodbye.”
“Why thank you, Annie,” Irene said. She felt compelled to reach out and touch Annie on the arm and give her bicep a slight squeeze in lieu of a full embrace. Annie was stiff, and smelled faintly of liquor. “You must promise to have a safe trip, then.” Irene stepped back, ready to close the door.
“Oh, I am not going,” Annie said quickly. “I can’t. My little boy is a cripple, an’ me eldest daughter Emily is sick as well.”
“I see,” Irene said slowly, ignoring Annie’s hopeful, pleading stare. “Well, I am sure your other daughter appreciates the opportunity you are giving her. You must be very proud. Now I really must get ready, Annie.”
Annie leaned forward, putting her body in the doorframe. “I just wish I had something to send her along with, you know? The way things are, my John works an’ all, but at this point we can barely keep a roof over our heads. Medicine is so expensive.”
“I am sure it is,” Irene said, closing the door toward Annie.
“Yes, quite!” Annie said, standing her ground.
Irene sighed. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Annie? I am to be on stage any minute. If you need something, it would better for you to just ask for it.”
“Can I borrow a pound from you to give her? Just a few, so I don’t have to send her away empty handed? I will pay you back, I swear on it.”
Irene shook her head, well-aware that she was doing a poor job of masking the contempt on her face. “See me after the performance and I will see what I can do, all right?”
“God bless you, Miss Adler! Bless you so much.”
“All right. Run along now,” Irene said, shutting the door.
~ * * * ~
The performance was
“Yes,” Annie said, smiling nervously as she handed the dress over to Irene. She proudly displayed the torn seam she’d sewn. “I put double stitches in it. Won’t trouble yeh again, Miss Adler. I swears by it.”
“Excellent,” Irene said, taking it from her. “It looks wonderful. I promise to wear it at the nearest opportunity.”
“It would be lovely to see yeh in it, Miss Adler. Thanks for giving me the chance to do a little work for you. We certainly needed the money.”
Irene hung up the dress and turned away from Annie, eyeing her wigs and makeup, hoping it was an obvious enough hint that she needed time to get ready. In truth, Irene had the finest tailors in all of London at her disposal. Men who were practically begging for the chance to create new fashions for the famous prima donna of La Scala. Certainly, they were better suited for the repairs than a common street person like Annie Chapman.
When Irene first chanced upon Annie, the woman was crying in a dark corner backstage, loudly enough that Irene could not walk past without at least inquiring if she was all right. Through thick tears, Annie blurted out the difficulties she and her family were having and asked if Irene knew of any work that was available around the theater. Irene, even as she told herself the simpler, less-involving answer would be to tell the woman no, she instead found herself mentioning that she had a few dresses in need of some light repair work. With a sigh, she asked if Annie perhaps knew how to thread a needle and sew a bit?
I certainly overpaid her for it too, Irene thought. Most of the work was sloppy, with uneven stitching and unfinished seams. That little crying jag had, in all likelihood, been a staged performance designed to catch her eye from the start, Irene reasoned. Ah well. The damn circus people were heading off for France anyway. “I seem to be all fixed up then, Annie. Which is good, I suppose, since you are all leaving us after tonight, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, Miss Adler,” Annie said, looking down. “It’s fortunate you should bring that up, as I was wanting to speak to you about it. They leave off tonight, and you’ve been such a big inspiration to us all that I wanted to say thank you and bid you goodbye.”
“Why thank you, Annie,” Irene said. She felt compelled to reach out and touch Annie on the arm and give her bicep a slight squeeze in lieu of a full embrace. Annie was stiff, and smelled faintly of liquor. “You must promise to have a safe trip, then.” Irene stepped back, ready to close the door.
“Oh, I am not going,” Annie said quickly. “I can’t. My little boy is a cripple, an’ me eldest daughter Emily is sick as well.”
“I see,” Irene said slowly, ignoring Annie’s hopeful, pleading stare. “Well, I am sure your other daughter appreciates the opportunity you are giving her. You must be very proud. Now I really must get ready, Annie.”
Annie leaned forward, putting her body in the doorframe. “I just wish I had something to send her along with, you know? The way things are, my John works an’ all, but at this point we can barely keep a roof over our heads. Medicine is so expensive.”
“I am sure it is,” Irene said, closing the door toward Annie.
“Yes, quite!” Annie said, standing her ground.
Irene sighed. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Annie? I am to be on stage any minute. If you need something, it would better for you to just ask for it.”
“Can I borrow a pound from you to give her? Just a few, so I don’t have to send her away empty handed? I will pay you back, I swear on it.”
Irene shook her head, well-aware that she was doing a poor job of masking the contempt on her face. “See me after the performance and I will see what I can do, all right?”
“God bless you, Miss Adler! Bless you so much.”
“All right. Run along now,” Irene said, shutting the door.
~ * * * ~
The performance was
Similar Books
