Ripper, My Love Read online

  When she arrived at her cottage he was not there. Often he sat on the step waiting for her to arrive home. Kitty was relieved, he could moan at her tomorrow. That was another day. She just wanted to get this one over. Even after five years, she found the visit to her mother's grave a drain on her emotions. She settled herself down for the evening. The absence of her father, on his night shift at the dock, meant she would be alone with her books. She embraced the peace and quiet of the room. The light from the candle flickered, this time the shadows and their dance were welcome.

  Later her sleep was disturbed; she tossed and turned. Her mind returned to the alleyway, and this time a man with dark clothing lurked in the corners. The nightmares would not leave, and Kitty relived them time and again.

  Chapter 2

  Promises

  Sweat lay upon her brow, and Kitty pulled the bedclothes from the floor. She twisted and turned so much in the night they had fallen from the bed. The cemetery visits always brought about a melancholy mood and a disturbed night. She dressed with haste, her father would be home from work by now, and once again she needed to draw from his strength.

  ‘My word, you look as tired as me, but at least I still have to go to bed. Late night my girl?’ Kitty’s father looked up from the fire grate when she entered the kitchen. Their routine had fallen into place over the years, and it was as comfortable as the bed she just left. Her father stoked the fire and made the tea, while she cooked a slice of thick ham and eggs. After which they would sit and chat away an hour.

  Kitty kissed the top of his head. ‘Morning, Papa. It was the trip to the cemetery. I could not settle down to sleep after I got home. An overactive mind, I think.’ She pulled on her apron and busied herself by the stove.

  ‘How was your night? Quiet?’ She needed to change the subject and forget the nightmares that still haunted her waking hours.

  ‘Not too bad. A few lads tried their luck on the south quay, but soon ran when they saw me. No one steps on my patch very often. On the other hand, I made a few more of those dolly pegs you were after, so it was a productive night.’ William Harper laughed and handed her the tea mug, and pointed to a pile of carved figures on top of her basket.

  ‘Thank you. The children I visit have so very little, but they treasure your toys. Mm, you cannot beat the first cup of the day, or in your case, the last one of the night. We are fortunate to afford simple luxuries; many are not so lucky.’

  She set the table and they sat down to eat. Her father looked tired and Kitty dared not mention the night before. He earned good money and they would struggle financially if he left his job. He would leave within seconds if he felt she was in any danger, or got herself into dangerous scrapes. With the latest murders, the city had become far more dangerous. At twenty years old, she needed to be more responsible and not so impulsive.

  ‘I am off to carry out deliveries across town this morning, so you will get an undisturbed sleep. I have changed the linen, you can snuggle down, and dream to your heart’s content.’ Kitty giggled and her father grinned back at her. She hoped his dreams were not the nightmares she suffered at times.

  ‘Aw, lass, you spoil your old pa, thank you. Are you going with Sarah? Tell her I will catch up with Brady for a jar of ale at the weekend. I will take some flowers to the grave on Sunday.’ He reached out and touched her hand. ‘Five years, and we both still miss her as if it were yesterday.’

  ‘Yes, that is true, but she would have a stomping fit if she knew we were still making ourselves upset over her death. Every anniversary we are the same. We must remember the good things about Mama, not her death. I will make us a pudding using her recipe on Sunday. That should cheer us up. Mind you, I am not a cook like her, but I try.’ Kitty cleared the pots as she spoke.

  ‘You have done a grand job, and as she is not here to kick me under the table, I will say your embroidery beats hers. She had the nimblest of fingers with sewing, but you have something special. Just look at that dress you made for Sarah last year. A masterpiece if ever I saw one.’ William puffed out his chest with pride. Kitty smiled at him, it would not do to argue with him when he wore his determined look.

  ‘I will remember you when I am rich and famous. When I have a parade of shops in my name.’ She grinned at him when he made a mock bow.

  ‘So, you are still determined to leave your old father on his own and live above a shop then? You modern women are beyond me. Whispers of wanting the vote and running your own businesses are all I hear nowadays. Progress they call it, progress.’

  Kitty went to her father, put her arms around his shoulders and she rested her head against them.

  ‘It will happen sometime, Papa, but one thing will never change. I will always love you.’ She pecked him on the cheek, his stubble scratching her soft skin. ‘It is time for you to settle down and rest. Enough gossip about my future. I will see you later. Now go upstairs. Night, and sleep well.’ She held out her cheek to his face to receive her kiss.

  ‘Night lass, and be careful out there. There is a murderer still around these parts somewhere. You stay safe.’

  Kitty watched him leave the room, thankful he was ignorant of her walk home the previous night.

  She dressed in her outdoor clothing and gathered her basket. This was one of the days she enjoyed most, and it would cheer her mood.

  ***

  Kitty let herself into the kitchen of the McKinley household. It was warm and the house smelled of fresh baked bread. Over the years the place became a second home for her. She had spent most of her childhood playing with Sarah’s children, and sharing a meal there when her mother was at work. After her mother’s death, Kitty spent many hours crying in the arms of the woman who became her support into womanhood. They enjoyed a comfortable relationship. Kitty respected Sarah. She cared for her and could not wish for a better substitute mother. Sarah loved Kitty as if her own daughter. Kitty often sought her guidance in the way of the world.

  ‘Why, look at you busy with the needle so early in the day, Mrs McKinley. That is what I like to see, an industrious woman.’

  Kitty teased her friend and kissed her on the forehead.

  ‘Brady needed a few new collars for his uniform. The house is quiet when they have all gone to work, and then it is a pleasure rather than a chore to sit and sew. Look at me, preaching to the converted.’ Sarah put down her work and both laughed.

  ‘How did the visit go yesterday? I thought of you. Oh, and I sent young Arthur home. I guessed you had dallied longer than usual and Arthur waited as always. He hung around your door, and by mid-evening I knew he was wasting his time. I gave him a bite to eat and he went home satisfied.’

  Kitty, grateful to her friend, nodded. ‘Thank you. I was concerned he might be in one of his moods. I took a shortcut through Angel Alley.’ She held up her hand as a gesture of defence. ‘I know, I know. I was foolish. Believe me when I say I will not do it again.’ She dropped her hands into her lap.

  ‘Please, do not tell my father, Sarah. He would have skinned me alive if he had known.’

  ‘And he isn’t alone young lady. Brady would have done the same. What on earth possessed you?’

  Kitty fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve. She twisted the edges around, a nervous reaction to the telling off she knew was coming. A habit from childhood, she could not stop however hard she tried.

  ‘It was quicker. I did not think about the yard being in darkness. I have walked through it so much in the daytime, but I did feel nervous yesterday. I felt as if I was being watched. There was no one there but it was scarier than normal. Maybe it is the talk about the murder and my imagination ran away with me. Then when that woman grabbed me, I was petrified.’

  ‘A woman grabbed you?’ Sarah put down her sewing. She stared at Kitty who had the good grace to look apologetic. ‘You put yourself in any danger. Girl, b’jeezus your father will be furious if he finds out. And stop fiddling with that dress. You will ruin it. I am not telling you off, you are too old for that. I a
m just reminding you to be more sensible. I am surprised at your behaviour. Your father, well, he will have something to say about this. I am as sure of that as I know I am a woman.’

  Kitty stopped plucking at her dress and pleaded with Sarah. ‘Please, please do not confide in him, nor Brady, please, Sarah. You know what he is like; he will ban me from walking to the market and cemetery alone. He will change his shifts. I could not bear it. I promise I will be more careful in the future. I know he loves me and I cannot upset him. I have to apologise to Arthur yet, and that will be bad enough. His sulks can be so depressing at times. If I have to listen to my father telling me off as well, I will be so unhappy. Please Sarah; say you will not tell him. Promise me?’

  ***

  Sarah smiled in silent agreement. She knew the girl was no longer a child, but she still needed protecting. She was not like other girls of her age. Most were married with children, or hung around the taverns earning a living on their backs. Kitty was not loud and brazen as some, and she was a little naive. Sarah had taught her what rules of a woman’s behaviour in society she knew. She also emphasised the importance of Kitty keeping herself pure for marriage. She had seen the girl turned heads in the male world. Sarah kept a watchful eye over her surrogate daughter.

  ‘I will get our Patrick to walk you to your evening deliveries from now on. Brady will say the same. He will probably do it himself when he comes off duty.’

  ‘Oh dear, Patrick will not like that. He has his eye on the McKenzie girl and he will not be able to watch her with his puppy dog eyes. Thank you, Sarah.’

  ‘He will do as he is told and be happy about it. And you must not be fooled. Those puppy dog eyes look your way sometimes, Kitty, my girl.’

  ‘How you tease, Sarah. You are right about one thing though. Patrick will not object to helping me. He never does. Now are we ready for these deliveries?’

  ***

  The two friends loaded their baskets with the finished garments. They were delivering to the wealthier part of the district, a trip they both enjoyed. The women of that part of town knew quality when they saw it, and were more than happy to pay well. Kitty had a good eye for colours and embroidery. She chose the right quality lace to enhance a gown, and she could decorate a bonnet and transform it into a piece of art. It made Kitty smile when the right shade of ribbon or feather delighted the eye of her customer. She had an agreement with the ragman and the woman who owned the haberdashery shop near the market. They supplied her with off cuts, buttons, buckles and anything they no longer required; in return she did alterations and repairs. Kitty often tidied a tired dress for the ragman, who made a small profit when he sold them to the market traders. She paid Sarah a few coins for the sewing work she did for her, and she paid her extra for the delivery trips. The agreement worked well for all.

  ***

  Sarah watched Kitty put on her bonnet; it was a pretty one decorated for the summer. Her face was framed with delicate lace and a little cluster of silk flowers attached to the edge of satin ribbon ties. Tiny stray curls of red hair sat as if trained into position along her brow. Her slim hands were now encased in a pair of delicate ivory gloves. Her petite figure looked trim and neat in a dark green coat that she embroidered herself. Where age and moths had formed small holes, neat stitching now brightened up the garment.

  ‘You’ve done wonders with that coat, Kitty. It looks so different from when I saw it last. You have talent. You will have your own shop one day soon enough, I feel it in my bones.’

  ‘I am pleased with the way it turned out. I have a brown one to be transformed. It is too big for me and too long for you. If you like it I can turn it up. If not someone else can make use of it. It has so much potential. As for my own shop, I have plenty in savings now. I have a lot of thinking to do. Papa, bless him, is so supportive.’

  Sarah nodded. ‘He is very proud of you and would never stand in your way. Times are changing.’

  ***

  The air was cooler than on previous days, and both, Kitty and Sarah, were pleased they had worn warmer clothes. They walked at a steady pace along the busy roads. The two friends chatted and laughed together. They side stepped snotty nosed children who called out and ran alongside them to beg for food and coins. A few coppers found their way into grimy hands; neither woman could close their eyes to hungry children. The area was filthy, and Kitty hated the walk through the dirty streets. She always felt unclean when she reached the nicer side of the city. There the air was fresher, despite the smell of sewerage that wafted on the breeze. The streets looked much cleaner; the houses were large and showed they benefited from regular maintenance. Kitty knew she would never own one of these houses, nor would she ever live in that particular area. She did hope that she would at least be able to rent a shop with good accommodation above. Possibly between Commercial road and Whitechapel road. There were wealthier clients living in that particular part of town.

  They arrived at their destination. Their coats were no longer needed as the walk had warmed them through. The smart town houses stood tall within their surroundings. The entrance the friends needed was to one side of the property. They rang the bell and were greeted by a tiny maid.

  ‘Hello, Lucy, we’ve brought the repairs. It does not seem like two weeks ago we were here last. How time flies.’

  ‘Come in, come in. Madam was delighted with the collars, Kitty, and has asked me to pass on her thanks.’

  Lucy always made Kitty smile, her white cap looked sizes too big, and the black dress drowned her. Kitty thought Lucy looked like a child in her mother’s gowns. The mistress of the house had a soft spot for the girl, and treated her well, and she in turn was a devoted employee. Kitty and Sarah accepted the offer of a sit down with refreshments. Lucy handed Kitty a small package.

  ‘I was asked to give you this. Madam said she no longer has use for it and she is sure you can give it a home.’

  Wrapped in fine paper was a fan in need of attention and repair. Kitty was thrilled with it. She loved the items given to her by the lady of the house as they were always of good quality.

  ‘Thank Mrs Gilbert for her kind words and for the fan. I will be sure to make good use of it. Oh, and thank her for recommending me to Mrs Tate. She has become a very good customer of mine. Time to say goodbye, Lucy. Thank you for the tea. We will see you next week.’

  She and Sarah gathered up their goods. They stepped out into the side street and turned to have a last minute chat with Lucy when Kitty found herself in the path of a tall gentleman. He was young and his clothes were of good quality. Kitty gave an apologetic smile, and took a step to one side. He drew himself to full height, raised his arm, and brought down his cane.

  ‘Move.’ He bellowed.

  The silver tip struck her arm and Kitty squealed, his movements shocked her and she dropped her basket, the contents spilled around his feet.

  ‘Oi, they ain’t rags, they are garments of the lady of the house.’

  Lucy had overstepped the mark; she had forgotten her place when she confronted the stranger who turned his attention to her, his face red with anger. He took great delight in reprimanding her. His voice boomed around the narrow lane, it housed an undertone of irritation, and an out of town accent. Kitty and Sarah looked to one another and nodded. They gathered up their baskets and walked away. They did not like to leave Lucy, red-faced and tearful, but they knew if they had stayed, it would have drawn too much attention to the house. That would have caused the maid further trouble with her employers.

  ‘My, he was a nasty piece’ said Sarah. ‘They have no manners, them toffs, no matter how good looking they are. He was a looker, I saw you take a peek miss. Anyway, my Brady, well he would never have treated a woman that way. Maybe we should go and speak to a policeman. The man is a thug and a bully.’

  ‘He is that, Sarah, but I think Lucy will call for help if she needs it. Let’s get out of the way and hope it settles down.’

  ‘I am sure you are right Kitty, if the cook of th
at house gets her hands on him, she will serve him up for supper. She is a tough one and no one will bully her charge. Come on then, time to go.’ She lifted her skirts and strode home with a bemused Kitty at her side.

  Money certainly did nothing to improve the manners of the wealthy. He was a good looker; her friend had been right with that statement. But in any man who treats women as he had just treated her, good looks were immaterial. Good manners and a respectful attitude went a long way with Kitty. Poor or rich alike, respect is the key for harmonious living as far as she was concerned

  Chapter 3

  Arthur Twigg

  Arthur Twigg knew he would never be classified as handsome, yet he never considered himself ugly. If he had to describe himself it would be average, he was of medium height and build. His eyes, nose, and mouth were in the correct places, and that was about it as far as he was concerned. It frustrated him that no amount of grooming would make his sandy hair look neat and tidy. As a small boy, he had been scarred by a poxvirus, and it had left its mark. He often wondered if his parents had been of different background and character whether they would have sought a doctor’s cure. If so the scars might have been avoided.

  He was an orphan and could no longer remember if he looked like his parents. His memories of them were diminished. The only ones that remained were of their actions rather than their looks. His mother was a whore, and his father was a drunk who used the skill of his woman to earn a meagre wage. They were drunken, filthy, uncouth people. Their personal hygiene was so poor that their true skin or hair colour never showed through. Arthur had never seen his parents bathe.

  His mind returned to a day when he was ten years old and asked for hot water. It was a freezing winter and their hovel of a home in the depths of Old Nichol had icicles on the inside. Cracked windowpanes allowed the whistle of cold air to blow through. Everything inside was damp. He had tried stuffing the windows with any rags or paper he could find, but nothing helped relieve the chill.