Jack:
A
butcher’s in Fulham Broadway needed an assistant, yes, the work was beneath
him, but he took it for the money and the sheer joy and exuberance he felt when
carving, slicing and cleaving. No artist could have been more enamoured of
their brushwork than he was with his butchery skills. The knives became part of
him, like an extension of his own arm, cutting through the flesh. And the very
smell of the carcasses and the blood, it gave him a pleasure that he had never
known before. To the horror of his cousin he would arrive home covered in
blood. She may have guessed that he slept in his bloodied apron; if she did she
said nothing.
When he was not working, he paced
the streets, covering miles and miles of the city, taking in the sights and
sounds, living and breathing them. The city lived for him as an entity of its own;
it had an extraordinary heartbeat of love, regret and lives both futile and
satisfied. A city which sold itself to all and sundry like a common whore and
enticed lovers anew with promises and riches. A city which had no need of sleep
for it was continually refreshing itself, re-inventing itself almost, appearing
to be all things to all people. Within its walls you could find fortune, you
could find wealth or an early grave. The city gave life and snatched it away
when you least expected it. He was mesmerised by it, but he was young and the
city had yet to deal him the harsh blows it would.
Liz Stride:
I
was no stranger to the court mind you, eight times I was up there, drunk and
disorderly they said, but what the hell harm was I doing? None to anyone, but
me. Your English courts are always slanted against foreigners, you see us as
heathens I think. There was a policeman I knew who would point me in the
direction of home wherever that might be at the time and send me on my way, but
others would drag you off to the cells kicking and screaming. Sometimes when I
was released I would go back to Michael, but he was often as drunk as I was. So
much for his protective ways. I had a flaming row with him; I forget what it
was about, probably money. I had been making some decent money with my charring
and cleaning. Not decent money as the likes of you might make, but good enough
for me. Rack my brains as I might I don’t know why we argued, it was either
money or drink so let’s just say it was one of those shall we? I got out and
left him to cool down and headed to the doss house in Flower and Dean Street.
On the way I met an old friend and we agreed to meet at the Bricklayers Arms
the following evening. He was just a friend I knew from Stepney way although I
was sure I had seen him recently in Dorset Street, nothing had gone on between
us, but he was a nice enough fellow, good looking and charming. Tried to look
my best for him, put on my nicest clothes and then found I had lost my hair
brush. Would you believe it? No one at the house would let me borrow theirs.
Still, it was windy and wet so I dare say it would have made no difference
anyway. We had a few drink at the Bricklayers and he was quite amorous which
was odd because he had never been that way with me before. I didn’t object
mind. Like I said, he was a nice fellow. When I agreed to go with him if you
know what I mean, he said you would say yes to anything and say anything apart
from your prayers. Do I need to say my prayers then I replied. Yes Liz I’m
afraid you do he said with a smile.
Available to pre-order: Amazon UK Further links to follow when I have them!!
1 comment:
Good luck with the book David - great to see a different perspective on the stories.
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