Gypsy by Lesley Pearse


Gypsy
By the same author

Faith
Hope
A Lesser Evil
Secrets
Remember Me
Till We Meet Again
Father Unknown
Trust Me
Never Look Back
Charlie
Rosie
Camellia
Ellie
Charity
Tara
Georgia
Gypsy

LESLEY PEARSE

MICHAEL JOSEPH
an imprint of PENGUIN BOOKS
MICHAEL JOSEPH

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First published 2008

Copyright © Lesley Pearse, 2008
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To my grandson Brandon.
My greatest treasure and delight.
Chapter One
1893, Liverpool

'Stop playing that Devil's music and come and help me,'
Alice Bolton yelled angrily from the kitchen.
Fifteen-year-old Beth smirked at her mother's description
of her fiddle playing and was tempted to continue louder
and wilder. But Alice had been very irritable recently and
was likely to come in and snatch the fiddle, so Beth put it
back into its battered case and left the parlour to do as she
was asked.
She had only just reached the kitchen when a thud, quickly
followed by the sound of heavy objects falling, came from
the shop below their flat.
'What on earth was that?' Alice exclaimed, turning round
from the stove with the teapot in her hand.
'I expect Papa knocked something over,' Beth replied.
'Well, don't just stand there, go and see,' her mother
snapped.
Beth paused on the landing, looking down over the banisters
on to the staircase which led to the shop. She could
hear something rolling around down there, but there was no
sound of the cursing that usually accompanied any accidents.
'Are you all right, Papa?' she called out.
It was dusk, and although they hadn't yet lit the gas lights
upstairs, Beth was surprised to see no glow at the bottom
of the stairs from the lights in the shop. Her father was a
shoemaker, and as he needed good light for close work he
always lit the lamps well before daylight began to fade.
'What's the clumsy oaf done now?' her mother bellowed.
'Tell him to leave his work for tonight. Supper's nearly ready
anyway.'
Church Street, one of Liverpool's main shopping streets,
had few carts or carriages upon it at seven in the evening,
so her father should have heard his wife's insulting remark
clearly. When he didn't respond to it, Beth thought he must
be out in the privy in the backyard, and maybe a stray cat
had got into the shop and knocked something over. The
last time this had happened the contents of a glue pot ran
all over the floor and it had taken hours to clean up the
mess, so she ran down quickly to check.
Her father wasn't in the privy as the door out to the yard
was bolted on the inside, and when she went into the shop
she found it in semi-darkness as the blinds had been pulled
down.
"Where are you, Papa?' she called out. 'What was all the
noise about?'
There was no sign of a cat, or indeed anything out of
place. The street door was locked and bolted; furthermore,
he'd swept the floor, tidied his work bench and hung his
leather apron up on the peg just as he did every evening.
Puzzled, Beth turned and looked towards the storeroom
where her father kept his supplies of leather, patterns and
other equipment. He had to be in there, but she couldn't
imagine how he could see anything with the door shut for
even in bright daylight it was gloomy.
A strange sense of foreboding made her skin prickle and
she wished her brother Sam was home. But he had gone
out to deliver some boots for a customer a few miles away,
so he wouldn't be back for some time. She didn't dare call
her mother for fear of getting a clout for being 'fanciful',
the expression Alice always used when she considered Beth
was overreacting. But then her mother felt that a fifteen
year-old should have nothing more on her mind than
improving her sewing, cooking and other domestic skills.

'Papa!' Beth called out as she turned the storeroom door
knob. 'Are you in there?' The door only opened a crack, as
if something was behind it, so she put her shoulder to it and
pushed. She could hear a scrape on the flagstone floor,
maybe a chair or box in the way, so she pushed harder until
it opened enough to see round it. It was far too dark to
make anything out, but she knew her father was inside, for
she could smell his familiar odour, a mixture of glue, leather
and pipe tobacco.

'Papa! Whatever are you doing? It's pitch dark,' she
exclaimed, but even as she spoke it struck her that he might
have been knocked out by something falling on him. In
panic she rushed back across the shop to light the gas. Even
before the flame rose enough to illuminate the glass mantle
and bathe the shop in golden light, she was back at the
storeroom.

For a second or two she thought she was seeing a large
sack of leather in front of the storeroom window, but as the
shop light grew brighter, she sawitwas no sack, buther father.

He was suspended from one of the hooks on the ceiling,
with a rope around his neck.

She screamed involuntarily and backed away in horror.
11 is head was lolling to one side, eyes bulging, and his mouth
was wide open in a silent scream. He looked like a hideous
giant puppet.+

It was all too clear now what the sound they'd heard
earlier had been. As he'd kicked away the chair he'd been
standing on, it had knocked a box of oddments, tins of shoe
polish and bottles of leather dye, on to the floor.

It was early May, and just a few hours ago Beth had been
grumbling to herself as she walked to the library because
her father wouldn't allow her to get a job. She had finished
with school the previous year, but he insisted daughters of
'gentlefolk' stayed at home helping their mothers until they
married.

Sam, her brother and senior by one year, was also disgruntled
because he was apprenticed to their father. What
Sam wanted was to be a sailor, a stevedore, a welder, or to
do almost any job where he could be outside in the fresh
air and have the company of other lads.

But Papa would point out the sign above the door saying
'Bolton and Son, Boot and Shoemaker', and he expected
Sam to be just as proud now to be that 'Son' as he himself
had been when his father had the sign made.

Yet however frustrating it was to have their lives planned
out for them, both Beth and Sam understood their father's
reasons. His parents had fled from Ireland to Liverpool in
1847 to escape slow starvation during the potato famine.
For years they lived in a dank cellar in Maiden's Green, one
of the many notorious, squalid slum 'courts' that abounded
in the city. Frank, Sam and Beth's father, had been born
there a year later, and his earliest recollections were of his
father going from door to door in the better parts of Liverpool
with his little cart to find shoes and boots to mend, and
his mother going out each day to work as a washerwoman.

By the time Frank was seven he was helping both his
parents by collecting and delivering boots for his father or
turning the handle of the mangle for his mother. It was
impressed on him, even when he was hungry, cold and tired,
that the only way out of poverty was to work hard until they
had saved enough money to get a little cobbler's shop of
their own.

Alice, Sam and Beth's mother, had an equally tough childhood,
for she had been abandoned as a baby and brought
up in the Foundling Home. At twelve she was sent out to
be a scullery maid, and the stories she told of the exhausting
work and the cruelty of the cook and housekeeper were the
stuff of nightmares to Beth.
Frank was twenty-three when he met sixteen-year-old
Alice, by which time he and his parents had achieved their
goal and had a tiny shop with two small rooms above. Alice
had often said with a smile that her wedding day was the
happiest day of her life because Frank took her to live with
his parents. She still had to work just as hard, but she didn't
mind that, for the purpose was to get even better premises
where her father-in-law and husband could make shoes
instead of just repairing old ones.
The hard work finally paid off and brought them here to
Church Street, with two floors above the shop, where both Sam and Beth were born. Beth couldn't remember her
grandmother, as she'd been only a baby when she died, but
she had adored her grandfather and it was he who taught
her to play the fiddle.
Since Grandfather's death five years ago, Papa's shoemaking
skills had become well known and now he made
shoes and boots for some of the wealthiest people in Liverpool.
He still worked extremely hard, from first light until
dusk, and most nights he fell asleep the moment he had
eaten his supper, but until tonight Beth had always thought
he was a very happy man.

'What on earth is going on down there? I heard you scream,'
her mother called peevishly from the top of the stairs. 'Is it
a rat again?'
Beth was brought up with a start. Appalled and terrified
as she was, her instinct was to protect her mother.
'Don't come down,' she called back. 'I'll get Mr Craven.'
'You can't disturb neighbours when they're having their
supper. Surely your father can deal with it?'
Beth didn't know how to answer that, so she went to the
stairs and looked up at her mother, hoping something would
come to her.
Alice Bolton was thirty-eight but looked far younger for
she was tiny, with blonde hair, wide, pale blue eyes and the
kind of delicate features and complexion that suggested
frailty.
Sam had inherited her blonde hair and blue eyes, but he
was nearly six feet tall, with his father's vigour and strong
features. It was said that Beth was a double of her Irish
grandmother, with her curly black hair, dark blue eyes and an
impertinent manner that would get her into trouble one day.
'For goodness' sake don't stand there looking so gormless,'
Alice snapped. 'Just tell your father to come now or
the supper'll be ruined.'
Beth gulped, all too aware that lies and attempted smoke
screens wouldn't help in something like this. 'He can't come,
Mama,' she blurted out. 'He's dead.'
Her mother never grasped anything quickly. This time
was no exception; she just stared at Beth blankly.
'He's hanged himself, Mama,' Beth said, fighting back
tears and mounting hysteria. 'That's why 1 wanted to get
Mr Craven. You go back up into the kitchen.'
'He can't possibly be dead. He was fine when he came
up for his tea.'
Beth was controlling the desire to scream the place down,
and her mother's disbelief almost made her lose that control.
Yet it was true what her mother said, her father had appeared perfectly normal at teatime. He'd remarked on how good
the seed cake was, and he'd told them that he'd finished the
boots he was making for Mr Greville.
It didn't seem possible that he'd gone back downstairs,
finished his work for the day, tidied his bench and then
calmly taken his own life knowing his wife and daughter
were just upstairs.
'He is dead, Mama. He's hanged himself in the storeroom,'
Beth said blundy.
Her mother shook her head and started down the stairs.
'You're a wicked girl to say such a thing,' she said indignantly,
brushing Beth aside as she got to the bottom. 'I'll deal with
you later.'
Beth caught hold of her arms and tried to prevent her
from going into the shop. 'You mustn't go in there, Mama,'
she begged. 'It's horrible.'
But her mother wouldn't be deterred; she thrust Beth
aside, rushed over to the storeroom and wrenched the door
open. Her scream when she saw her husband reverberated
through the whole building. But the scream was shut off abruptly as she slumped to the floor in a faint.

n hour later Sam arrived home to find the shop was not
in darkness as he'd expected. Through the window he saw
rotund Dr Gillespie and burly Mr Craven, their neighbour,
but even before they opened the door to him, he knew
something was seriously wrong.
It was the doctor who explained that Beth had run to Mr
Craven when her mother collapsed. Mr Craven sent his son
to fetch the doctor, and came back with Beth to cut Papa's
')ody down. When Gillespie arrived he had told Beth to take
ler mother upstairs, give her some brandy and put her to
>ed.
Sam was a tall, lanky boy of sixteen. He swayed on his
I'cet at the news, the colour draining from his face and the
hock of it almost making him collapse too. His father's
body was on the floor, covered in a blanket, all except for
one hand which was stained brown with leather dye. If it
hadn't been for that hand Sam might have refused to believe
what the men told him, but Frank's hand was as familiar to
him as his own.
He asked why his father had done such a thing, but they
couldn't tell him. Mr Craven scratched his head and said it
was a mystery to him as only that morning he'd dropped
into the shop for a chat, and Frank had been in good spirits.
Dr Gillespie was equally baffled and spoke of how well
respected in the community Frank was. It was clear both
men were as horrified and shocked as Sam.
The doctor caught hold of both Sam's arms, looking right
into his eyes. 'The mortuary cart will be here soon,' he said
gently. 'There has to be an inquest in situations like this.
You must be the man of the house now, Sam, and take care
of your mother and sister.'

Sam felt as if a trapdoor had opened beneath his feet and
he had fallen into a place he didn't recognize. For as far
back as he could remember, there had always been order
and absolute certainty in his life. He had often baulked at
the dullness of the daily routine, with his father working in
the shop from seven in the morning till late in the evening,
and his mother cooking and cleaning upstairs. Yet he had
always felt safe in the knowledge that if he did fall flat on his
face while seeking out a more adventurous life for himself,
everything would remain the same here and he could come
back to it.
But at a stroke all that precious certainty was gone.
How could such a mild-mannered, thoughtful and kindhearted
man have such demons lurking inside him? And
why didn't those closest to him ever catch a glimpse of
them? Just that morning Sam had watched his father go to
the foot of the stairs and listen while Beth was playing her
fiddle. He made no comment, but his face had been alight
with pride in her talent. Later, when Sam had finished
repairing a pair of boots, Frank had clapped him on the
shoulder and praised his work.

Time and again both he and Beth had witnessed the
loving way their father looked at their mother, seen him
holding her and kissing her. If they all meant that much to
him, why did he want to leave them?

And what would happen to the family now, without the
man who had been their provider, their rock and comforter?
Chapter Two

The grandfather clock on the landing struck midnight but
Sam and Beth were still in the kitchen, too stunned and
upset to even think of going to bed. Their father's body had
been taken away hours ago, and Sam held Beth's hands tightly
as once again she went over how she'd found their father.
From time to time he would wipe the tears away from her
cheeks with his handkerchief, and smooth her hair comfortingly.
Likewise, when Sam became overwrought and his voice
rose in anger, Beth would reach out to caress his cheek.
Dr Gillespie had given their mother a draught to make
her sleep because she'd been hysterical, pulling at her hair
and screaming that someone else must have strung Frank
up, for he would never have chosen to leave her. While both
children knew it was impossible for anyone else to have had
a hand in tonight's work, they shared her sentiments. Their
parents had been loving and happy.
'The doctor asked me if the business was in difficulties,'
Sam said, his voice strained with bewilderment. 'But it
wasn't. I can't even think of anything unusual happening in
the past weeks that might account for it.'
'Could it have been a customer who upset him?' Beth
asked.
There were difficult and unpleasant customers sometimes.
They complained if Father couldn't make their shoes or
boots as quickly as they wanted them, and often when they
arrived to pick them up they tried to find fault with his
workmanship so they could beat him down in price.

'He would have said. Anyway, you know he took all that
in his stride.'
'You don't think it was us, do you?' Beth asked anxiously. The complaining that I was bored at home, and you always
slipping off to the docks?'
Sam shook his head. 'I don't think so. I heard him laughing
about me once with a customer. He said I was a good
lad, even if my head was in the clouds. And you certainly
hadn't upset him; he was proud of you.'
'But how are we going to live now?' Beth asked. 'You
aren't experienced enough to keep the shop going!'
It was often remarked on how different Beth and Sam
were. Not just their looks, one tall and blond, the other
small and dark -- their natures were quite different too.
Sam's head was always in the clouds, living in a dream
world of fantastic adventures, riches and exotic places. One
day he could be wasting time down by the docks gazing
wistfully at the ocean-going ships; another he could be
peering through gates of big houses, marvelling at the way
the wealthy lived. Although he had never admitted it to
Beth, she knew the real reason he didn't want to be a cobbler
or shoemaker was because no one became rich or had
adventures that way.
Beth was far more practical and logical than her brother,
thorough and diligent when she was given a task to do. She
had sharper wits, and read books to gain knowledge rather
than to escape reality. Yet she could understand why Sam
lived in a fantasy world, because she had her fantasy too, of
playing her fiddle to a huge audience and hearing rapturous
applause.
It was of course an unattainable dream. Even if she had
been taught to play classical violin, she'd never seen a female
violinist in an orchestra. She played jigs and reels, tunes

passed down from her grandfather, and most people considered
that was gypsy music, suitable only for entertainment
in rowdy ale houses.
Yet for all the differences between Beth and Sam, they
were very close. With only a year between them, and having
never been allowed to play in the street like other children
in the neighbourhood, they'd always relied on each other
for companionship.
Sam got up from his chair and knelt beside Beth, putting
his arms around her. 'I'll take care of both of you, somehow,'
he said with a break in his voice.

In the days that followed, Beth's emotions see-sawed between
overwhelming grief and rage. She had never known
one day without her father; he had been as constant as the
grandfather clock chiming away the hours. A wiry man
of forty-five with thinning grey hair, a carefully trimmed
moustache and a rather prominent nose, he was always
cheery and, she thought, transparent.
He might not have been overly demonstrative -- a pat on
the shoulder was his way of showing affection and approval
- but he had never been a distant figure like so many fathers
were. He liked her to come down to the shop and chat while
he was working; he had always been interested in what she
was reading, and her music.
But now she felt she hadn't really known him. How could
he come up to the kitchen for his tea and sit with his wife
and daughter while all the time he was intending to go back
downstairs, finish his work and then hang himself?
He had talked about a pair of buttoned boots a lady had
ordered just that morning, laughing about her because she
wanted pale blue ones to match a new dress. He said they
wouldn't stay looking good for long in Liverpool's dirty

12

I
streets. Why would he say that if he knew he was never
going to make them?
If he had died of a heart attack, or been run over by a
carriage while crossing the street, it would have been terrible,
and the pain they all felt now would have been just as
agonizing, but at least none of them would have felt
betrayed.
Their mother wouldn't stop crying. She just lay in her
bed, refusing to eat or even to allow them to open the
curtains, and Sam was like a bewildered lost soul, convinced
it was his fault because he'd been less than enthusiastic
about being a shoemaker.
Only a few neighbours had called to offer condolences,
and Beth felt their real motive was not real sympathy but to
gather more information to bandy around. Father Reilly had
called, but although he'd been kindly, he'd been quick
enough to say Frank Bolton couldn't be buried on hallowed
ground as it was a grievous sin for a man to take his own
life.
The result of the inquest would be in the newspapers,
and all their friends and neighbours would read it and shun
them afterwards. She thought it was cruel and cowardly for
her father to have done this to them all. And she didn't
think her mother would ever want to go out of the house
again.

Five days after her father's death, Beth was in the parlour
making black dresses for herself and her mother. Outside
the sun was shining, but she had to keep the blinds closed
as was the custom, and the light was so dim she was finding
it hard even to thread the needle.
Beth had always enjoyed sewing, but as her mother
wouldn't rouse herself to help, she'd had no choice but to

dig out the patterns, cut the material on the parlour table
and sew the dresses alone, for they would be disgraced
further without proper mourning clothes.
She would give anything to be able to get out her fiddle
and play as she knew she could lose herself in music and
perhaps find some solace. But playing a musical instrument
so soon after a bereavement wasn't seemly.
In irritation Beth threw down her sewing and went over
to the window where she drew back the blind just an inch
or two to peep out and watch the activity on Church Street.
As always, it was crowded with people. The omnibuses,
cabs, carts and carriages created piles of horse droppings,
and the smell was more pungent than usual today because
of the warm sunshine. Ladies of quality in elegant frocks
and pretty hats strolled arm-in-arm with gentlemen in high
wing collars and top hats. There were matronly housekeepers
in severe dark clothes carrying baskets of fruit and
vegetables, and here and there young girls, perhaps maids
on their afternoon off, dreamily looking in shop windows.
But there were plenty of poor people too. A one-legged
man on crutches was begging outside Bunney's, the shop on
the crossroads which was generally known as Holy Corner
because Lord Street, Paradise, Chapel and Church Streets
all met there. Worn-looking women held babies in their
arms, smaller children tagging along behind; tousle-haired
street urchins with dirty faces and bare feet loitered, perhaps
on the lookout for anything they could steal.
There was a queue at the butcher's opposite, and because
of the warm sunshine the women looked relaxed and unhurried,
chatting to one another as they waited to be served.
But as Beth watched them, she saw two women turn and look
straight up at the windows above the shop, and she realized
they'd just been told that the shoemaker had hanged himself.

Tears welled up in her eyes, for she knew that the gossip
would gain even more momentum after the funeral. People
could be so cruel, always delighting in others' misfortunes.
She could imagine them saying that the Boltons had always
thought themselves a cut above everyone else, and no doubt
Frank had killed himself because he was in debt. Beth almost
wished that was the reason; at least it would be understandable.
Turning
away from the window, she looked around the
parlour. It was her mother's pride and joy; everything, from
the patterned square of carpet and the china dogs sitting
either side of the fireplace to the stiff, uncomfortable button
backed armchairs and the heavy tapestry curtains, were
copies of things Alice had seen in the big house when she
was a scullery maid.
Wanting a piano was part of it, and it had to be hauled
up through the window by six men. Neither of her parents
could play the instrument, but to her mother it was a sign
of refinement, so Beth had to learn. She had no doubt her
mother hoped it would wean her off the fiddle, an instrument
she saw as 'common'.
Although Beth often felt hurt by her mother's attitude to
her beloved fiddle, she was very glad when she found Miss
Clarkson to give her lessons on the piano. She might have
been a thirty-year-old spinster, with grey hair and a cast in
one eye, but she was an inspiring woman. She not only taught
Beth to read music and play the piano but she introduced her
to a whole new world of books, music and ideas.
For five years Miss Clarkson was her ally, friend, confidante
and teacher. She loved to hear Beth play her fiddle as
well as the piano, she would bring books with her she
thought Beth should read, she taught her about all kinds of
music and sometimes took her to concerts too. Yet what

Beth liked best about her was that she didn't have the same
narrow outlook as her mother. Miss Clarkson felt strongly
that women should have equal rights to men, be that to
vote, to have a good education or to work at anything they
pleased.
Beth wished Miss Clarkson was still in Liverpool now
because she was the one person who might have been able
to help her and Sam understand why their father had done
such a terrible thing. But she had emigrated to America
because she said she felt stifled by the hypocrisy, class system
and lack of opportunities for women in England.
'I shall miss you, Beth,' she told her with a resigned smile
when they said their last goodbyes. 'Not just because you
are my most accomplished pupil, but because you have a
lively mind, a stout heart and boundless enthusiasm. Promise
me you won't marry the first suitable man who asks you,
just so you can have a home of your own. Marriage may be
considered by most to be a holy state, but not if you pick
the wrong man. And keep up your music, for it lifts the
spirit and allows you the freedom of expression a girl like
you needs.'
Beth had found Miss Clarkson was right about the music.
It transported her to a place where her mother's repeated
instructions on mundane domestic matters couldn't reach
her, a world where fun, freedom and excitement weren't
frowned upon.
Sadly, she knew Mama had never understood that. She
had always liked to boast to the neighbours of her daughter's
talent, but she didn't actually listen to her playing the piano
and she resented the fiddle. Papa had listened and liked
nothing better than to sit and hear her play the piano on a
Sunday evening -- Chopin was his favourite - yet he also
enjoyed it when she played and sang popular music-hall

songs. Even for him, though, the fiddle had been a slight
bone of contention, perhaps because it was a reminder of
his childhood and he feared the wild Irish jigs his father had
taught Beth to play would draw her into bad company.
Hearing Sam coming up the stairs, Beth began sewing
again. She heard him go in to see Mama in her room down
beside the kitchen, and a few minutes later he came into the
parlour.
He looked pale and drawn, his brow knitted in a frown.
'The Coroner is releasing Papa's body tomorrow,' he said
wearily. 'He didn't find anything to explain why he did it,
he wasn't sick. But at least we can bury him now.'
'Did you tell Mama?' Beth asked.
Sam nodded despondendy. 'She was crying still. I don't
think she's ever going to stop.'
'Maybe she will after the funeral,' Beth said with more
optimism than she felt. 'I must fit this dress on her soon.
I hope she won't make another scene.'
'I saw Mrs Craven outside. She said she'll come round
later and try to talk to her; maybe it will be best if you try
the dress then. However bad Mama feels, she won't want a
neighbour knowing she's leaving everything to us.'
Beth heard the bitterness in his voice and got up to put
her arms around him. He had been in the shop from first
light till dusk most days, finishing up all the repairs, and she
knew how frightened and worried he was. 'You said we'd
manage the night it happened, and we will,' she said.
'I've got a feeling Mama knows why he did it,' Sam said
in a low voice, leaning his chin on her head as she held him.
'I've gone through the accounts and although there isn't
very much money, he wasn't in trouble. He never went out,
s() he wasn't drinking or gambling, and he certainly didn't have
another woman. It can only be something to do with her.'

'Don't think that, Sam,' Beth begged him. 'It won't help
putting the blame on Mama.'

Sam caught hold of her arms tightly and looked right into
her eyes. 'Don't you realize everything is going to be different
from now on?' he said fiercely. We are going to be poor. I
wish I could promise you that I could keep the shop going,
but all I can do is repairs. I'm not skilled enough to make
boots and shoes, and that was what Papa made the money
on. I'm going to have to get another job, but that won't pay
enough to keep all three of us.'

'I can get one too,' Beth said eagerly. 'We will manage,
Sam.'

He looked at her doubtfully. 'It may come that we have
to find a cheaper place to live, or take in a lodger. We won't
be able to live the way we've been used to.'

Anger flared up inside Beth again. All her life she'd heard
Papa telling her that he wanted her and Sam to have all the
advantages he'd never had. He'd made her believe that they
were gentlefolk, a cut above most of their neighbours. But
he'd shamed and ruined them without even an explanation
as to why.
Chapter Three

As Beth laid the table for the evening meal she watched
her mother stirring a pot of stew on the stove. As usual she
was in her own private world, barely aware even that her
daughter was in the room with her.
Three months had passed since she was widowed, but
this was how she had remained. While she did the washing,
cooking and cleaning in much the same way she always had,
she only spoke when asked a direct question, and she took
no interest in anyone or anything.
Mrs Craven, their kindly neighbour who had been so
supportive at the time of their father's death, had said that
Beth and Sam should be patient with her, for grief affected
people in many different ways and their mother would come
out of this silence when she was ready. But a month ago
even Mrs Craven lost her patience when Mama told her to
go away when she'd called round.
' 'Er face was as cold as a marble headstone! Fair gave me
goose pimples, cos it was like she didn't know me,' she
reported indignantly to Beth.
It seemed incredible to Beth that her mother could dismiss
the one person who had been a true friend. But then
she didn't show any appreciation for all Sam had done for
her either.
He had tried so hard to keep the shop going, but the
people who used to bring in their boots and shoes to be
repaired stopped coming. Whether this was because of the
suicide, or because they didn't think Sam could do the job,


wasn't clear. So Sam rented the shop out to someone else.
Mama merely shrugged when he told her.
For a dreamy and previously very lazy lad, Beth thought
her brother had proved himself to be a real man by dealing
so masterfully with all the family problems. With someone
downstairs paying almost the entire rent for the building,
they only had to find a small balance so they could continue
to stay in the flat. Sam had got himself a position as a junior
clerk with a shipping company and he brought home every
penny he earned to keep them all. Mama should be praising
him to the skies, not just ignoring him.
But then she hadn't praised Beth either when she found
a position as an assistant in a hosiery shop. She never asked
what the hours would be or how much she would be paid.
A while ago Sam had remarked that it was as if their
mother had been replaced by a sullen servant. He said it
jokingly, but that was exactly what it was like, for she made
and served their meals without a word. She had never been
a great conversationalist, a little gossip about the neighbours
had been her limit, but she'd always been a good listener
and was aware of any little changes in either of them, showing
concern if they felt poorly or seemed sad. She didn't
notice now whether they were tired or had a cold; she didn't
even make a remark about the weather. If they asked her
what she'd done during the day she would reply with one
bald sentence: 'I did the washing' or 'I changed the beds'.
Beth would seethe inwardly, wanting to scream out that she
still had them and the home she loved, while her children's
world had been turned upside down. Sam was tied to a desk
for ten hours a day, at the beck and call of men who treated
him like dirt on their boots. He couldn't wander off to the 1
docks for an hour or two the way he used to; every penny
he earned was needed.¦

20
m
Maybe Beth had wanted to work in a shop, but she soon
found that working in Hooley's Hosiery wasn't anything like
she had imagined. She and the other shop assistants had to
line up each morning for a check that their nails were clean
and their boots polished, and just a couple of strands of hair
coming loose was a serious misdemeanour. Customers were
often rude, but she had to smile sweetly as if they were
royalty. She couldn't even go to the privy without asking
permission, and just talking to another assistant was to risk
being fired. She was spied on all the time, there were countless
petty rules, and she found being on her feet all day
exhausting. Their mother rarely went out, so she didn't see
the sneers on people's faces or overhear their cruel remarks.
Sam and Beth lived with that every day.
But all the feelings of anxiety, resentment and irritation
that Beth had felt in the past couple of months were eclipsed
today by something far more serious.
It was early closing day, and Beth got home soon after one.
She intended to have something to eat, then try to persuade
her mother to come out with her for a walk in the sunshine.
The people taking over the shop were going to sell shoes,
and during the last week a carpenter had been building
shelves and a counter. As Beth came in through the back
door, a painter was working in the shop with the door wide
open. He apologi2ed for the paint fumes and said he hoped
that wasn't what had upset her mother, for he'd heard her
being sick in the privy.
Beth was naturally alarmed and ran upstairs to see Mama.
But she denied there was anything wrong and said the
painter was mistaken.
The paint fumes were very strong in their flat, but even
so her mother refused to go out with Beth. So Beth had
some bread and cheese and went out alone.

They only used the back door now, but as she came up
Church Street the shop door was wide open, so she slipped in
that way to save going round the back. It was about half past
three, and she paused in the small lobby by the stairs up to
their flat, because through the open back door she could see
her mother in the yard taking the washing off the clothes-line.
She was stretching up to reach one of Sam's shirts, and
Beth was shocked to see that her belly had grown very big.
Her mother was short and she'd always been very slender,
in fact her waist had been so small that her father used to
encircle it with his two hands. Three months ago, when
Beth had fitted her mourning dress on her, it had still been
the same. But it wasn't like that any more. She was wearing
a linen apron over her black dress, but the waistband of the
apron was well above where it should have been, and her
swollen belly was clearly defined.
Beth was so shocked she almost cried out and alerted her
mother that she was watching her. It wasn't an overall
fatness for Alice's face had grown much thinner since she
was widowed. Beth knew exactly what swollen bellies meant,
even if properly brought up young ladies weren't supposed
to be aware of such things.
That was yet another matter Miss Clarkson had explained
to Beth. She said it was absurd to keep young girls in
the dark about something so natural, and ignorance was
dangerous too as men could take advantage of it. So Beth
knew how babies were made.
While she had found it embarrassing to discover that her
parents had continued to perform that act after she was
born, Beth's real concern now was how she was going to
broach such a delicate subject with her mother. But she
knew she must, for if there was a baby on the way plans would need to be made.


I
A little later, once her mother was back indoors, folding
up the dry washing, Beth studied her, hoping she was mistaken,
for with the apron in its right place Alice's belly wasn't
obvious; she just looked a bit thicker around the waist.
Beth had a cup of tea while she tried to pluck up some
courage, for she anticipated hostility. But time was getting
on, and once Sam got back her chance would be gone,
for Beth knew she couldn't discuss pregnancy with a male
present, not even her own brother.
She took a deep breath and plunged right in. 'You are
going to have a baby, aren't you, Mama?'
Beth wasn't sure how she felt about having a baby brother
or sister. But her mother's reaction to her question made it
quite plain she considered it a catastrophe. Her face
crumpled, she put her hands over her belly as if to hide it
and let out a wail of anguish.
Beth had half expected to be told to mind her own
business, but she certainly hadn't anticipated such a dramatic
reaction. 'I know it must seem awful now Papa's gone, but
Sam and I will help you,' she said quickly, going over to her
mother. She didn't try to embrace her, for during the last
three months when she'd attempted it, her mother had
backed away as if she'd been scalded.
But surprisingly she flung herself at Beth, crying like a
child against her shoulder. 'I didn't know how to tell you,'
she sobbed. 'I've been so afraid of what was going to become
of us.'
Beth just held her, so relieved that at last her mother was
communicating with her that any other concerns seemed
unimportant. 'There's nothing to worry about,' she said
soothingly. 'We've managed all right so far, and we can
manage a baby too. Maybe it's just what we need to make
us all happy again. Do you know when it will be born?'


'December, I think,' Alice said, dabbing her eyes with
her apron. 'But I'm too old to be having another baby. It's
bad enough having the shame of your father going the way
he did - now people will start talking about us all over
again.'
'You aren't too old,' Beth said firmly. 'And what does it
matter what other people say? It's none of their business.'
She made another pot of tea, and her mother blew her
nose and admitted it was a relief to have it out in the open.
'I've behaved very badly to you two,' she admitted. 'But I
was that worried and frightened I couldn't think of anything
else. What's Sam going to think?'
'Just the same as me, that we're going to have a baby
brother or sister,' Beth said calmly. She felt relieved that her
mother's odd behaviour had finally been explained. 'I know
everything looks a bit daunting now, Mama, but it will get
better. And you'd better make friends with Mrs Craven again
because you'll need her help when the baby comes.'
Mrs Craven, among her many talents, had something of
a reputation of being an excellent midwife.
'That's why I told her to go away, I was that scared she'd
guess,' Alice admitted. 'It was too much for me after Frank
going the way he did.'

Later that evening after their mother had gone to bed, Beth
and Sam sat in the kitchen talking. Sam had looked horrified
when Beth took him to one side earlier and, with a great
deal of embarrassment, told him the news. He whispered
that this was the last thing they all needed, but he did have
the diplomacy not to show his feelings to their mother.
Now they were alone and he'd had time to think about
it, he had softened a little. 'I can't say I relish the thought
of a squalling brat around the place,' he admitted. 'But at

2-4
least it explains what was wrong with Mama. I thought she
might end up in an asylum.'
'It must have been very frightening for her,' Beth said.
'Especially as her own mother must have had her without a
husband, or she wouldn't have abandoned her. That place
she grew up in was attached to a workhouse. I expect she
was afraid that was where she'd end up.'
'I'd never let that happen,' Sam said stoutly. 'But it will
tie us.'
'Whatever do you mean?' Beth asked.
He pursed his lips and frowned. 'Pa didn't leave much,
and most of that was eaten up with the burial expenses and
just living until I got work. Our joint wages are only just
enough to scrape by on. But I'd hoped that in time Mama
would marry again and we'd both be free.'
Beth had never imagined her mother remarrying, and she
said so.
'Well, you'd better start hoping for it,' he said with a tinge
of sarcasm. 'If you meet some chap who wants to marry
you, he won't want to be saddled with your mother and her
baby too. And I hadn't planned on staying put here for ever
either. I want to see the world.'
Beth wanted to reproach him for being selfish, but she
couldn't because she knew he wouldn't really run out on
them. 'Let's not worry about the future for the time being,'
she suggested. 'Something will turn up, you'll see.'

It was a long, hot summer, the milk turning sour by midmorning,
privies and drains stinking to high heaven, leaves
on trees drooping listlessly with a coating of dust. The city
didn't even become quiet once darkness fell because it was
too hot for anyone to sleep. Babies cried, dogs barked,
children played in the streets till all hours, and there were

more drunken brawls outside the public houses than usual.
Beth found each day in Hooley's Hosiery a trial of endurance.
By midday the shop windows got the full blast from
the sun, and inside the temperature soared to over ninety
degrees. Customers were tetchy and often very rude as they
got her to open drawer after drawer of socks or stockings.
Beth frequently had to bite her tongue to prevent herself
answering back. In a high-necked black dress, with petticoats
beneath, she was sweltering, her feet swelled and ached, and
she often wondered why she'd once thought it would be marvellous to have a job.
Sam fared better at his work, for the clerks' office overlooked
the sea, and with the windows wide open there was
a cooling breeze. But with a stiff wing collar and a jacket, he
too often admitted to nodding off in the heat or gazing
longingly at the ships out at sea, wishing he was on one.
But their mother was suffering even more. She had no
appetite, she felt faint in the heat, and her ankles and legs
were so swollen by mid-afternoon that she couldn't walk.
It alarmed Beth to see how thin and gaunt her face was
becoming, yet her belly seemed to grow larger each day.
The hot weather finally broke at the end of September,
when it rained almost constantly for two weeks. At long last
they could sleep at nights again, the streets were washed
clean, and their mother began to eat a little more.
Alice had apologized to Mrs Craven for her rudeness, and
the neighbour was kind enough to pop in every day and
help with a few of the heavier chores. Together the two
women had dug out a stored box of baby clothes that had
been both Sam's and Beth's, and another neighbour lent
them a cradle.
Winter didn't set in until the end of November, but when
it came it was with high winds and bitter cold. In the second

week of December, when it was snowing, Beth arrived home
on the Friday evening to find Mrs Craven in the kitchen,
filling up a big pan with water to heat up on the stove.
'She started around midday,' the woman explained. 'It
was lucky I called in on the way back from the market. I
want you to go and get Dr Gillespie to come and take a
look at her.'
Beth was immediately alarmed, but Mrs Craven gave her
a reassuring hug. 'It's just a precaution,' she insisted.
It was the first time Beth had seen the doctor since
the night her father hanged himself, and she felt acutely
embarrassed about having to tell him why she needed him
now.
'Having a baby!' he exclaimed, his round red face breaking
into a wide smile. 'What a surprise! And how are you and
your brother doing? It must have been hard on you these
past months.'
'We're managing fine, doctor,' Beth said. His smile of
pleasure made her feel a little less anxious, and his interest
in her and Sam was comforting. 'Of course, the baby was a
bit of a shock to all of us. But Mrs Craven said she wanted
you to call round just as a precaution.'
But it wasn't just a precaution, Beth realized later, as she
stood at the bedroom door listening to what the doctor was
saying to Mrs Craven. 'She's a very small woman and the
baby is big. Mrs Bolton isn't young either, nor is she very
strong. I'll leave her in your capable hands for now, Mrs
Craven, but don't hesitate to call me again later if you have
any concerns.'
Beth's heart began to hammer with fright, and as the
evening progressed and she heard Mama shrieking with pain,
she grew terrified. It didn't help that Sam hadn't come home.
There was just Mrs Craven, and she wouldn't allow Beth

into the bedroom. 'I'll call you if I need help or to get the
doctor again,' she said firmly. 'Babies can sometimes take an
age to come, but don't worry yourself about the screaming -- most women do that, it don't mean much.'
Sam arrived back soon after ten, just in time for Mrs
Craven to send him out again for the doctor, and though
she wouldn't be drawn on why she needed him, Beth could
see anxiety etched into her big face.
Dr Gillespie came back with Sam, and once again disappeared
into the bedroom for some time.
Around twelve Gillespie came back into the kitchen and
asked for a bowl of hot water to wash his hands. He had
already taken off his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves,
and as he scrubbed at his hands and forearms he glanced
over his shoulder at Sam and Beth.
'I've got to get the baby out quickly,' he said. 'Please get
me more clean linen and towels. I can see you are both
frightened, but try not to worry -- your mother will be all
right.'
Beth rushed to get the linen, and the doctor took it back
into the bedroom with him, closing the door behind him.
Mama's moaning stopped soon afterwards and Sam said the
doctor must have given her ether.
It was very quiet now. Outside snow was still falling,
deadening the sound of late-night carriages in the street.
The only sound inside was the occasional cough or muffled
instruction from the doctor to Mrs Craven, and the coal
spluttering and shifting in the stove.
Sam and Beth didn't speak. They just sat on either side
of the kitchen table, white-faced and anxious, both lost in
their own fears.
Suddenly there was noise -- rustling, feet moving and
the doctor's low voice. 'My, she's a big girl,' they heard

I



Mrs Craven exclaim, and just moments later they heard the
baby cry.
'Thank God for that,' Sam exclaimed, wiping his sweaty
brow on his sleeve.
Shortly afterwards Mrs Craven came out of the bedroom
with the baby wrapped in a blanket in her arms. She looked
exhausted, but she was smiling. 'This is your baby sister. A
real little porker,' she said with some pride.
For Beth, the sight of Mrs Craven's blood-drenched
apron diluted any joy and wonder she might have felt at
seeing her little sister. 'Mama -- is she well?' she asked.
'She will be soon, the doctor's stitching her up now,' Mrs
Craven replied. 'But you can do your bit by taking care of
this little one,' she said, handing the bundle over to Beth.
'Put her in the cradle close to the stove to keep her warm.
I've got to go back and help the doctor.'
While Sam got the cradle from where it had been left in
the parlour, Beth stood looking down at the baby in her
arms. She'd never seen a newborn baby before, and although
Mrs Craven had said this one was big, to her it looked tiny,
red and wrinkled. Its hair was dark, and although she
couldn't see its eyes for they were all screwed up, she liked
its little mouth which it kept opening and shutting like
a fish.
Sam brought in the cradle. 'I think we'd better warm up
the mattress and the covers first,' Beth suggested, for there
hadn't been a fire on in the parlour since the weather got
really cold. 'What do you think of her?'
Sam looked down at the baby and tentatively stroked its
cheek with one finger. 'She's a bit ugly,' he said, wrinkling
his nose with distaste.
'No she's not,' Beth said defensively. 'She's sweet, and
it's just the same as looking at a newborn puppy or kitten.


They all look like little rats at first, but they soon get really pretty, and so will she.'
What with all the preparation of the baby's cradle and
making yet more tea for Mrs Craven and the doctor, they
temporarily forgot about their mother. It was only when
their neighbour came back into the kitchen with a big bundle
of bloodsoaked linen and asked Sam to get the tin bath
from the yard to put it to soak that they were sharply
reminded.
'She'll be poorly for some time,' Mrs Craven said gravely.
'We'll have to build her strength up again with some
good beef tea, eggs and milk. When the doctor has finished
with her, you can go in for a minute or two to see her.
Don't expect much from her though, she's had a tough
time.'
It seemed like hours before Dr Gillespie finally came out
of the bedroom, though in fact it wasn't more than half an
hour. He looked weary as he stripped off a bloodstained
apron and went over to the sink to wash his hands. 'Have
you any brandy in the house?' he asked.
'I think so, sir,' Sam said, going into the larder to get it.
'Good lad, give your mother some in hot milk.' He walked
over to the cradle and looked down at the sleeping baby;
'She at least seems in very good health and Mrs Craven will
explain what she needs. I'll come back in the morning to
check on your mother.'
He took a small dark brown bottle from his bag and put
it down on the table. 'If your mother is in pain during the
night she can have three or four drops of this in hot water.
Try and get her to drink some water too.'
'Go on! You can go and see her now,' Mrs Craven urged
them once the doctor had gone. 'Then I must be away to
my bed too.'

3°
Sam and Beth crept into their mother's room on tiptoe,
not knowing quite what to expect. Everything looked
surprisingly orderly and normal considering what had gone
on here, though it was very hot with the fire lit and there
was a funny smell. But Alice seemed to have shrunk;
she took up no more room in the big brass bed than a
child, and her face had a strange mottled appearance in the
gaslight.
'How are you feeling, Mama?' Sam asked.
'I hurt,' she croaked out. 'The baby?'
'She's fine, all wrapped up and in her cradle sleeping,'
Beth said softly. 'You've got to drink this,' she added, going
closer so she could lift her mother enough for her to drink
the milk and brandy. 'I'll sleep in the kitchen with her tonight
so she'll stay warm and I can keep an eye on her. It's snowing
outside.'
When her mother had finished the drink and Beth laid
her down again, she caught hold of her daughter's forearm.
'Please don't hate me for this,' she said pleadingly.
'Hate you for what?' Beth frowned, looking at Sam in
puzzlement.
'For leaving you with such a burden,' she said as she
closed her eyes.
Beth tucked the covers around her mother and turned
the gas down till it was just a faint glow. Sam put a few
more coals on the fire and they crept quietly out of the
room.
'Does she think she's going to die?' Beth asked Sam once
Mrs Craven had gone home.
'That will just be the effect of the medicine the doctor
gave her,' he replied knowledgeably. 'Don't pay it any
mind.'
'I won't be able to go to the shop tomorrow if I've got

3i
to look after the baby,' Beth said. 'Mr Hooley won't be
pleased when it's so close to Christmas. What if he won't
hold my position until Mama is better again?'
'Don't worry your head about that,' Sam said wearily.
'You write a note for him and I'll put it through the door
on my way to work. Now, I'd better put more coal in the
stove to keep our little sister warm. I wonder what Mama
will want to call her.'
'I think she looks like a Molly,' Beth said, peeping into
the cradle again. 'I just hope she doesn't wake up until Mrs
Craven comes in. I don't know a thing about babies.'

Beth slept fitfully in the old armchair by the stove, with her
feet up on a stool and some blankets over her. She kept
waking at the slightest noise, but each time it was nothing
more than crackling from the stove, or a little murmur from the baby. But whenever she tried to go back to sleep, her
mind kept mulling over that plea from her mother.
At six in the morning Beth was cuddling the baby and
trying to get her to stop crying, when to her relief Mrs
Craven came in through the back door, stamping her feet
to get rid of the snow on her boots.
'Baby needs changing and feeding,' she said bossily, and
throwing off her coat, she took the baby from Beth and
proceeded to remove the soggy blanket, ordering Beth to
go and get the box of baby clothes and napkins.
Beth watched in fascination as the older woman carefully
washed the tiny baby and gave her instructions about changing
the piece of lint around the stump of its umbilical cord
and sprinkling a special powder on the cord until it fell off.
She then folded a napkin into a triangle and fastened it
around the baby's bottom.
'Later, when the shops are open, you must go and see if

I



you can buy a pair of india-rubber waterproof pants for her,'
Mrs Craven said. 'They didn't have them when my babies
were born, but I believe they are a godsend as they keep
their clothes and bedding dry. You must change the napkin
every two or three hours. If you leave her wet she'll get
sore.'
As she dressed the baby in a little nightgown, she imparted
a great deal more information about babycare, most of
which went over Beth's head.
'Now, we'll take her to your mother for a feed,' she said,
handing the baby back to Beth. 'She might protest as she's
feeling poorly, but a mother always gets better quicker when
she holds her baby.'
Alice did look marginally better, in as much as the awful
blotching on her face had faded, and she opened her eyes
and tried to smile. She winced with pain as Mrs Craven
helped her to sit up a bit so she could put more pillows
behind her, and she was terribly pale.
Beth knew now that Dr Gillespie had performed what
was called a caesarean, and it should have been done in the
hospital. But he had no choice: Mama couldn't be moved
and the baby had to be removed quickly or they would both
have died.
'We'll just let baby have a little feed,' Mrs Craven said,
unbuttoning the front of Mama's nightgown. 'Then I'll
get you a drink, something to eat and make you more
comfortable.'
Beth blushed at seeing her mother's breast, but as Mrs
(Graven put the baby to it and she latched on quickly, sucking
eagerly, embarrassment turned to delight at the sight of such
greed and Beth had to smile.
'She's a little fighter, that one,' Mrs Craven said tenderly.
'Now, what are you going to call her?'

'I think she's a Molly,' Beth said, and sat down on the
edge of the bed.

'Then Molly it shall be,' her mother said with the ghost
of a smile.
Chapter Four


I

I
In the days following Molly's birth Beth didn't get a minute
to herself, for it was a continuous round of changing and
comforting Molly, seeing to her mother, including helping
her on to a chamber pot because she couldn't get down to
the privy, then doing all the washing and other household
chores. The snow still lay thickly on the ground and most
days there were more flurries. It was so dark inside the flat
that Beth often had to light the gas during the day. When
she rushed out to get groceries, she didn't linger, for however
inviting Church Street looked, with the shop windows all
decked out for Christmas, the hot-chestnut sellers and the
organ grinders, it was too cold to stay outside.
She had become entranced by her baby sister. Looking
after her was a pleasure, not a chore, and she didn't feel
hard done by with everything else she had to do either. But
within a week the joy was replaced by anxiety about her
mother.
At first Alice had seemed to be getting progressively
better. On the third day after the birth she asked Beth for
an omelette, and she'd eaten every scrap of it, and some rice
pudding. She was holding Molly for long periods after she'd fed her, and she was glad to talk to Beth, explaining little
things about babies and cooking to her.
On the fourth day she was much the same until the
evening, when she suddenly said she was very hot. By the
f( )1 lowing morning Beth had to run round and get Dr Gillespie
because she was feverish.


The doctor said women often became that way on the
fourth or fifth day after confinement, and recommended
Beth make her drink lots of fluids and keep her warm. But
Alice grew worse and worse, so feverish she hardly knew
who she was. A nasty smell was coming from her, and she
was racked by terrible pain in her stomach that even the
medicine the doctor had given her didn't stop.
Mrs Craven called it childbed fever, but Dr Gillespie had
a much more fancy name for it. He came in twice a day,
irrigating Mama's womb with some kind of antiseptic solution
and then packing it with gauze.
They carried on putting Molly to her breasts, even though
Alice couldn't hold her, but this morning Mrs Craven had
brought in a glass bottle with a rubber teat. She didn't have
to explain why; it was evident that Alice's health was so
poor that she couldn't produce enough milk.
Molly took to the bottle with gusto and Beth got a great
deal of comfort too from sitting in the comfortable chair by
the stove nursing her. She loved the way Molly's eyes opened
very wide as she began to feed; they looked like two dark
blue marbles, and she waved her tiny hands as if that helped
her to get the milk down faster. But as she reached the end
of the bottle, her eyes would droop and her hands would
sink to her sides.
Often Beth would sit for an hour or more holding Molly
up by her shoulder, rubbing her back the way Mrs Craven
had advised to get her wind up. She loved the smell and
the feel of her, the little sighs of contentment and everything
about her. Even when she'd finally changed her
napkin, swaddled her in a blanket so just her little head
was visible and tucked her back into the cradle, she would
stand and watch her sleeping, marvelling at the miracle of
new life.

I



Yet the joy was marred by her mother's poor health.
Neither Dr Gillespie nor Mrs Craven had even hinted that
Alice wasn't going to recover, but however hard Beth tried
to be optimistic, she could sense death approaching in the
next room.
Their goodhearted, competent neighbour was popping in
every two or three hours now, and Beth knew by the increase
in bloodstained sheets, the foul smell, the way Mrs Craven
kept piling more coal on the bedroom fire and the tightness
of her expression that it was only a matter of time.
Beth didn't tell Sam of her fears, for she knew he was
worried about money. Mr Hooley at the hosiery shop had
taken a dim view of Beth wanting time off at his busiest
period, and there was no question of him holding her job
open until she could return. On top of that Sam was free2ing
in the shipping office and he said that it was hard to write
neatly when his fingers were numb with cold. The thought
of another two or three months of winter in such an icy
workplace filled him with dread. Beth reasoned that if she
told him that their mother was likely to die and he'd singlehandedly
have to support Beth and Molly, he might just be
tempted to take to his heels and run off.
However, on Sunday evening, when Sam had been home
all day observing the frantic activity, Beth could see by his
anxious expression that he had finally realized how serious
things were.
'Why didn't you tell me?' he asked Beth reproachfully as
she sat cuddling Molly.
'You had enough to worry about,' she said truthfully.
'Besides, I hoped she might improve.'
The little bell Beth had put by their mother's bedside so
she could call if she needed anything, tinkled. Beth got up
and went into the bedroom with Molly still in her arms.

It was very hot and stuffy, and the unpleasant smell had
become even stronger.
'A drink, Mama?' Beth asked with her eyes averted from
her mother's face. It hurt to look at her, for the flesh on her
face seemed to have sunk back into her bones and her eyes
stood out like those of a fish on a fishmonger's slab.
'No. Get Sam, I must speak to you both,' she replied, her
voice a mere croaky whisper.
Sam came in immediately, his nose wrinkling at the smell.
'Come closer,' their mother whispered. 'It hurts to speak
now.'
Brother and sister edged closer to the bed, Beth holding
Molly tightly against her chest. 'What is it, Mama?' Sam
asked, his voice shaking.
'I have something bad to tell you,' Alice said. 'I know
I am dying but I can't go with it on my conscience.'
Sam started to say she wasn't going to die and anyway,
she was pure and good, but she waved her hand feebly to
stop him. 'I'm not a good woman,' she said, her voice
faltering and rasping. 'Your father killed himself because of
what I did.'
Sam looked sideways at Beth questioningly. His sister
shrugged, thinking their mother was just rambling with the
fever.
'There was another man. Your father discovered it a few
weeks before he took his life. He said he would forgive me
if I made a pledge that I would never see the man again.'
She broke off, coughing weakly. Neither Beth nor Sam
moved to help her drink.
'I made that pledge,' she went on as the coughing abated.
'But I couldn't stick to it and continued to see the man
when I could get away. The last time I saw him was the
morning of the day Frank hanged himself.'



I
Beth was stunned. 'How could you?' she burst out.
'You, you . . .' Sam exclaimed, his face turning red with
anger and disgust. 'You whore!'
'There is nothing you can say which will make me feel
worse than I do,' Alice rasped out. 'I betrayed your father
and I am responsible for his death. He was a good man, too
good for me.'
'And Molly? Who is her father?' Beth shouted.
'The other man,' her mother said, closing her eyes as if
she couldn't bear to see her children's angry faces. 'Look in
the drawer where I keep my stockings,' she said. 'A note
I found that night, Frank had tucked it under my pillow.'
Sam opened the small top drawer in the dressing table
and rummaged for a moment or two, then pulled out a sheet
of writing paper. He took it over to the gaslight to read it.
'What does it say?' Beth asked.

Dear Alice, Sam read.
/ have known for some time that you are still seeing jour lover. By
the time you find this I will be gone and you will be free to go with
this man you care for more than me. All I ask is that you wait a
respectable time after my death before taking up with him, for our
children's sake.
I loved you, I'm sorry that wasn't enough.

Frank.

Beth had begun to cry as Sam read the note. She could
imagine her quiet, gentle father penning it down in the shop
and coming up here at teatime to slip it under the pillow.
I wen with a broken heart he hadn't resorted to anger or
spite, but had carried on being a loving husband and father
till the end.
Sam moved over to Beth and put one arm around her,


looking down at Molly asleep in her arms. Tears were rolling
down his cheeks.
'Why, Mama?' he cried out. 'Why did you have to do that?'
'I did love your father, but it was the sweet love of a
friend,' she replied brokenly. 'Passion is quite another thing.
Maybe one day you'll discover that for yourselves and
understand.'
'But why didn't this other man come for you?' Sam
shouted in anger. 'If it was true love, why isn't he with you
now?'
'My biggest failing was to confuse passion with love,' she
replied, her eyes burning as she looked at her son. 'He
vanished into the night as soon as he heard Frank was dead.
That was my real punishment, to know I had thrown in my
lot with a philanderer who cared nothing for me, and Frank
died thinking he'd found the way to make me happy.'
'Did this other man know you were carrying his child?'
Beth sobbed.
'No, Beth. I didn't realize until after the last time I saw
him.'
She began to cough and wheeze, and it was plain she was
too weak to say anything more. 'Go to sleep now,' Beth said
curtly. 'We'll talk again tomorrow.'

In the kitchen later, Sam walked up and down, white with
anger. 'How could she?' he kept repeating. 'And if she
doesn't recover, are we supposed to look after that brat?'
Beth was crying as she nursed Molly in her arms. 'Don't
say that, Sam. She's just a baby, none of this is her fault,
and she's our sister.'
'She's no sister of mine,' he raged. 'Our father might have
been weak enough to accept his wife had a lover, but I'm
not going to follow in his footsteps -- she can go.'

I



'Go where?' Beth asked through her tears. 'Are we to
take her to the Foundling Home? Leave her on someone's
doorstep?'
'I can't and won't keep the child of a man who seduced
my mother and caused my father to take his own life,' Sam
said flatly, his mouth set in a determined straight line. 'Get
rid of her!'
Beth stayed up for a long time after Sam had gone off to
bed. She fed and changed Molly and put her down in
the cradle, then sat in the chair trying to make sense of
everything.
But nothing did make sense to her. Until tonight she
hadn't thought it possible that a woman who had a good
husband, children and a comfortable home could ever want
anything else. She had of course heard whispers of loose
women who went with men other than their husbands, but
she had always had the idea that they were the kind of sluts
who went into ale houses and painted their faces. Not
ordinary women like her mother.
'Passion', in the way her mother had meant it, she had no
understanding of. Miss Clarkson had been fond of the word,
though she had mostly used it in connection with music.
But once, when she was talking about how babies were
made, she had said that 'passion' overtook some women
and robbed them of their own will. Beth had to suppose
that was what had happened to her mother.

Beth was still sitting in the chair crying when she heard a
sound from her mother's bedroom. Something had fallen
to the floor, perhaps the water glass. She didn't want to see
/Mice again tonight, but she knew she had to go in there and
check on her.
Her mother was lying over to one side of the bed, trying

4i
to reach for the family photograph which stood on the
bedside table. It had been taken a year ago in a booth on
New Brighton Beach when they had gone there for the
August Bank Holiday. Reaching for it, she had knocked over
a bottle of pills the doctor had given her.
'Is that what you want?' Beth said, picking it up and
holding it out for her mother to look at.
Her mother lifted her arm with great difficulty and put
one finger on the picture. 'Don't tell anyone about Molly,'
she whispered. 'Let everyone think she was Frank's. Not for
me, but for her, and give her this when she is grown up, so
she'll know what we looked like.'
Her hand went from the picture to catch hold of Beth's
wrist. It felt as dry as an autumn leaf, so small and bony,
and she was gripping tight. 'I'm so very sorry,' she said. 'Tell
me you forgive me.'
Instinct told Beth that this was the end or very close to
it. Whatever her mother had done, whoever she had hurt,
she couldn't let her die without a kind word. 'Yes, I forgive
you, Mama,' she said.
'I can go then?' Alice asked in a whisper.
The grip on Beth's wrist loosened and her mother's hand
fell to the blanket. Beth stood looking at her for some little
time before she realized she had stopped breathing.
Chapter Five


'We #v//have the cheapest funeral,' Sam argued stubbornly.
'Because of her, Father couldn't be laid to rest in hallowed
ground and no one came to the funeral to say what a good
man he was. So why should she have anything better?'
'We can't let her have a pauper's funeral,' Beth said
wearily, for they'd been over this several times already since
he came in for his supper, and it was nearly eleven o'clock
now. 'What would people think of us?'
'Why should we care about that!' he exploded. 'Apart
from the Cravens, everyone's been whispering maliciously
about us since Papa died. Let them carry on doing it.'
Beth began to cry because she didn't know this stonyhearted
person who had taken the place of her brother.
Their mother had been dead for less than twenty-four hours,
her body was still lying in the bed, and yet Sam had gone
off to work this morning as if nothing had happened.
She understood of course that he was afraid he'd lose his
job if he didn't, but he could have explained that to her,
just a few gentle words to let her know he wasn't angry with
her too.
'Don't cry, Beth,' he said, his eyes growing softer. 'I don't
mean to be cruel, but things are desperate now. We can't
spend money we haven't got on her funeral. And that baby
has got to go!'
Beth moved protectively over to Molly's cradle. 'Don't
say that, Sam. She's our sister and I will not abandon her.
You can sell the piano or anything else to get some money,

we'll take in a lodger or move somewhere cheaper, but Molly
stays with us.'
'I can't bear to see her,' he said, and his eyes filled with
tears. 'She's always going to be a reminder of what Mama
drove Papa to do.'
'If Mama hadn't been so honest and brave admitting the
truth, we'd have been none the wiser,' Beth argued. 'Besides,
Papa would turn in his grave if we turned our backs on a
helpless baby, even if it wasn't his. So you've got to find the
humanity to accept that we have to do right by Molly.'
Sam just looked at her thoughtfully.
It was some little while before he spoke again. 'Put like
that, I suppose I'll have to agree.' He sighed. 'But don't
expect me to ever feel anything for her. And don't blame
me when you find out what being poor is really like.'
It was enough for Beth that Sam had backed down. 'Then
I'll compromise and arrange the cheapest funeral. But you
mustn't blame me either if later you find it makes you feel
bad about yourself.'

Christmas was bleak; they had neither the money nor the
heart to attempt any kind of festivity. They left Molly with
Mrs Craven just long enough to go to church on Christmas
morning, but that gave them no comfort for it only served
to remind them of joyful Christmases past. A few people
approached them to offer condolences, but there was no
ring of sincerity in them, only curiosity.
The funeral took place two days later, and Mrs Craven's
eldest daughter minded Molly. Heavy rain had melted the
snow, but an icy wind blew across the churchyard, almost
cutting them in half as the cheap coffin was lowered into
the grave. Apart from Sam and Beth, there were only three
other mourners: the Cravens and Dr Gillespie. As Father

I

I



Reilly intoned the final words of the committal, Beth glanced
over to where her father was buried in unhallowed ground.
She thought how unjust it was that a man who had never
sinned against anyone should be there, while his adulterous
wife lay in the churchyard.

By the first week in February, when Sam became seventeen
and Beth sixteen, they were forced to sell the piano. Beth
didn't really care much about it, after all she still had her
precious fiddle, but seeing the piano being lowered out
through the window to the street below brought home to
her how tragically ironic it was.
To her parents the piano was a symbol that they had
succeeded in lifting their children up to the middle classes,
and as such they would never suffer the hardships they
themselves had endured. Yet by being protected from want
and shielded from the hard facts of real life, both she and
Sam lacked the resources to cope with poverty.
Beth could bake cakes, lay a table properly, starch and
iron a shirt, and had acquired dozens of other refined accomplishments,
but she'd never been taught to plan a week's
meals on a tiny budget. Sam might be able to haul in coal
for the stove, shovel snow out of the backyard and be on
time every day for work, but he had no idea how to unblock
a sink or fix a broken sash cord in the window.
All their childhood there had always been a fire in the
parlour, the stove in the kitchen and even fires in the bedrooms
when it was really cold. The gas was lit in all the
rooms before it grew dark, there was always fruit in a bowl,
cake in the tin and meat every day.
The coal ran out soon after Christmas and when they
(>rdered more they were shocked at the price and could only
keep the stove in the kitchen going. The gas ate up pennies

so fast that they were afraid to light it. Fruit and cake
disappeared from their diet.
Sam's wages were spent on food long before Friday came
round, and once they'd eaten all the preserves and stores of
sugar and flour their mother had so frugally tucked away in
the pantry, they were down to bread alone until pay day.
Maybe Sam should have held out for a better price for
their mother's prized round mahogany table and matching
chairs, but they needed the money to pay for the coal and
the bill from Dr Gillespie. There was no doubt they were
swindled when the grandfather clock was sold. But neither
of them had any idea of the real value of these items, or
that second-hand furniture dealers could smell desperation.
Although Beth loved caring for Molly, she hadn't
reckoned on the loneliness of being home all day alone with
a baby. She never seemed to have a minute for herself to
read, play her fiddle or take a bath. Sam wasn't interested in
hearing about Molly when he came in from work, she had
no one other than Mrs Craven she could talk to, and she
was continually worried about money.

By the middle of March Sam could see no alternative other
than to find lodgers to make ends meet.
One of the more senior clerks in his office suggested his
cousin Thomas Wiley and his wife Jane, who had been
staying with him and his family since Thomas moved from
Manchester to take up work in the Liverpool post office.
The couple were in their mid-thirties, and Beth took an
immediate dislike to Jane. Everything about her was sharp
-- her eyes which darted around the room as she spoke, her
nose and cheekbones, and even her voice had a sharp edge
to it.
She showed no interest in Molly and she looked Beth up


I
and down as if pricing up the value of her clothes. When
Beth tried to suggest they figured out a plan when each
would cook their evening meal, Jane dismissed her by saying
she wasn't one for cooking.
Her husband, Thomas, was easier to take to, a jovial,
ruddy-faced man who appeared very grateful to be offered
the parlour and Beth's old bedroom up on the top floor
above the kitchen, for she and Molly were now in her
parents' old room. Thomas said he had begun to despair of
ever finding anywhere decent, or even clean, for he had
been to view rooms that he wouldn't even keep a dog in.
Sadly it soon transpired that Thomas liked the drink more
than he did his wife or home. Most evenings he didn't roll
back till after ten.
Beth tried hard to get along with Jane, but it was clear
from the start she thought a lodger should be waited on.
She ordered Beth to fill the tin bath in the bedroom for her
on her second day there. When Beth said she and Sam
always had a bath in the kitchen as it was far warmer and
more convenient, and anyway Jane must fill it and empty it
herself, the woman flounced around indignantly, declaring
'she'd never heard the like'.
As it was, she spilled water all over the kitchen floor and
made no attempt to clean it up. She complained that the
sound of Molly crying in the night woke her and that the
mattress on the bed was lumpy. Beth rushed to feed Molly
it she woke in the night, and she spent a good hour shaking
(lie feather mattress outside to make it fluffier, but Jane
didn't reciprocate in any way. She could make a mess even
making a cup of tea, and never cleared it up. She would fill
the sink with washing and then disappear, which meant Beth
had to do her washing for her or was unable to use the sink.
Day by day Beth saw the comfortable and orderly life


she'd been brought up with, and had struggled to maintain,
eroding away. As she was bathing Molly in the sink, Jane
would come in and start frying bacon, knocking the clean
nightgown, vest and napkin from where they were airing by
the stove to the floor. If Beth wanted to sit in the armchair
to feed Molly, Jane was already sitting there. She helped
herself to their food; she didn't wash up her plates or pots.
Beth soon gave up hope of her ever offering to take a turn
cleaning the kitchen, the stairs or the privy, yet Thomas
would walk in at night with muddy boots and next morning
Beth would see a trail all along the landing and up the stairs.
Beth felt unable to complain. Not only was she a little
afraid of Jane, but she knew how desperately she and Sam
needed the rent money. Yet it was so hard to see the home
which had always been so clean and tidy degenerate into
squalor, to listen to Thomas's drunken ramblings late at
night, and never to have any real privacy. Playing the piano
or her fiddle had always been her tried and tested way of
escaping from her problems, but she no longer had the
piano, and with Jane stalking around she didn't feel able to
play her fiddle. She could feel herself becoming wound up
like a watch spring, and she was afraid of what might happen
when that spring finally snapped.
It happened one morning in July. Sam and Thomas had
left for work about an hour earlier. Beth went into the
kitchen with Molly in her arms, ready to feed her, and
found Jane pouring some of the milk in the baby's bottle
into her tea.
'What are you doing?' Beth exclaimed. 'That's Molly's!'
'There's no other milk left,' Jane said.
'Well, go out and get some,' Beth retorted angrily. 'What
sort of person would take a baby's food?'
'Don't you speak to me like that.' Jane's eyes narrowed

and she stuck her thin face right up to Beth's menacingly.
'You feed her too much anyway, that's why she's so fat.'
At seven months old Molly was plump, but Beth took a
pride in her being so healthy and strong. She had masses of
dark hair, four teeth, and she could sit up unaided now. She
was a happy, contented baby who smiled and gurgled all day
long.
¦'She's beautiful, not fat, and you should be ashamed of
yourself,' Beth snapped back. 'It's bad enough you stealing
our food. Have I got to hide Molly's milk now too?'
'Are you calling me a thief?' Jane shrieked, and catching
hold of a clump of Beth's hair pulled her head back sharply,
making her cry out. 'That's right, snivel. You think you're
so high and mighty, don't you? But what've you got to be
high and mighty about? Yer pa topped his self, and everyone
knows why.'
She let go of Beth's hair and looked at her contemptuously.
'Don't yer know everyone talks about yer ma? Me
and Tom heard about it afore we even moved in. Yer pa
must've been soft in the head, topping hisself instead of
throwing her out on the streets. No wonder yer brother
don't want nothin' to do with the bairn.'
Beth backed away with Molly in her arms. She was horrified
that the truth about her mother had got out, and she
was afraid of Jane too, but she'd had enough, and she wasn't
going to let the woman get the better of her.
'What you've just said is completely untrue,' she shouted
back at her. 'I won't have anyone slandering my mother, so
you can pack your bags and get out of my home now.'
'And how do you think you're going to make me?' Jane
put her hands on her hips challengingly. 'Big brother going
l<> throw me out, is he?' She cackled with laughter. 'He's as
soft as shit.'

All at once Beth knew she had to be strong and fight for
her rights. She turned, darted into the bedroom and laid
Molly down safely in her cradle. She howled in protest, but
Beth ignored her and returned to the kitchen to face Jane.
'I don't need my brother,' she said defiantly. 'I'm perfectly
capable of dealing with the likes of you. Get out now and
I'll pack your stuff and put it down in the yard for Thomas
to collect later.'
Jane leapt towards her, one hand raised to slap her, but
Beth was quicker, catching her by the wrist and twisting it,
making the woman squeal in pain. 'Out!' she yelled at her,
still twisting her wrist as she pushed her towards the stairs.
'And if you try to come back I'll make you sorry.'
Beth had never fought anyone before, apart from play
fighting with Sam when they were younger, but anger made
her strong and determined.
Jane tried to fight back, clawing at her with her free hand,
but Beth had youth and righteous indignation on her side,
and she managed to haul the older woman down the stairs
towards the back door. Once she'd got her out into the
backyard she pushed her so hard that Jane fell over.
'I'll make you pay for this,' Jane shouted back as she lay
sprawled on the ground, her grubby petticoats and drawers
on display. 'You won't get away with it. I want my things.'
'You can have them,' Beth said. 'I'll throw them out the
window to you.'
With that she turned away, went in through the back
door, locking it behind her, and ran upstairs. It took only a
couple of minutes to scoop up the woman's coat, hat, purse
and a pair of boots from the bedroom, then she threw the
kitchen window open and dropped them down into the yard
below.
'Be grateful you've even got those,' she yelled. 'The rest

5°
will be left in the outhouse for you to collect this evening.'
Mr Craven had come out into the alley beyond the backyard
and he was looking up curiously at Beth in the window.
'I'm just chucking her out for slandering my parents,' she
shouted to him. 'Would you mind helping her on her way?'
She stayed just long enough at the window to see her
neighbour escorting Jane out of the back gate, and to hear
the woman's vitriolic stream of abuse.

Somehow Beth managed to give Molly her bottle, even
though she was trembling like a leaf from shock. She heard
Mrs Craven calling from the yard and went down to let
her in.
'Oh, lovey!' she exclaimed when she saw how pale and
agitated Beth was. 'We heard the yelling, and that's why my
Alfie went looking to see what was going on.'
The sympathy in her voice made Beth cry, and Mrs
Craven embraced her, then took Molly from her arms. 'I'll
make you a nice cup of tea, and you can tell me all about it.'
'There isn't any milk. That's how it all started,' Beth
began.
'Then I'll just go and get some,' Mrs Craven said. 'And
you'd better change Molly's napkin while I'm gone. She
stinks!'
Half an hour later, Beth had explained everything. The
(t-a and her neighbour's concern had made her feel better.
'I knew she was a baggage the first time I clapped eyes
on her. Common as muck and hard-faced too,' Mrs Craven
snid, bouncing Molly on her knee. 'As if you haven't had
enough to cope with! But you mustn't pay any mind to what
she said about your mother.'
'But is that what people are saying?'
Mrs Craven frowned. 'No one has said it to me. If they

had I'd have put them straight. But my Alfie did say there
was talk in the Fiddlers.'
The Fiddlers Inn was around the corner in Lord Street.
Papa hadn't been a drinker, but most of their male neighbours
drank there, and Thomas Wiley did too.
It hadn't occurred to Beth before that anyone would
suspect Molly wasn't her father's child, and she was horrified
to learn they did, but she had no intention of admitting the
rumours were true, not even to kind-hearted Mrs Craven.
'Why are people so cruel?' she asked in bewilderment.
'Sometimes it's from jealousy. Your family looked so
perfect, your mother was a pretty woman, your father had
a good business and two children to be proud of. No one
could understand why he took his own life, so they make
guesses at the reason.'
'What will become of us now?' Beth asked sadly. 'We
needed lodgers to manage. Sam's going to be so cross with
me.'
'I don't think so, Beth.' Mrs Craven reached out and took
Beth's hand across the table. "You showed a lot of spirit,
he'll admire that. Now, let me help you pack up the Wileys'
things. My Alfie will keep his ear open for when they come
back for them, and help if they start any trouble.'

I
Chapter Six

'I wish we could emigrate to America,' Sam said dejectedly
as he ate his supper. 'This place is full of bad memories.
I hate it now.'
It was the day after Beth had thrown out Jane Wiley.
Sam hadn't been angry about it, only demoralized. He had
pointed out that there were hundreds of people needing
somewhere to live, but it was impossible to know who might
rob them or make their lives a misery.
Beth had been badly shaken by the whole thing. When
she'd gone to clean out the Wileys' room, she'd found the
chamber pot hadn't been emptied for days, and there were crusts of stale bread dropped on the floor and filthy underwear
strewn all over the place. Even the sheets on the bed
were bloodstained and there was a big scratch right across the
dressing table which looked as if it had been made by a knife.
Sam had gone downstairs when Thomas arrived to collect
their things and Mr Craven had stood out in the alley too
in case of trouble. But Thomas had seemed resigned rather
than fighting mad. He'd just picked up the bags and left
with them.
'But we'd need money to emigrate,' Beth said wistfully.
'We couldn't go with Molly anyway,' Sam retorted.
Beth felt a pang in her heart, for she knew that what he
really meant was that he wouldn't want her with them. He
hadn't softened towards her as she'd hoped; he never picked
her up or played with her. Even when Molly laughed it
didn't make him smile.

'If it wasn't for her we could sell everything to raise the
fare,' he said bitterly. 'As it is, I'll have to take those two
silver photograph frames tomorrow and sell them, just to
keep us going.'
Beth went into the bedroom soon afterwards and opened
the back of the photograph frames to take out the pictures.
One was of her and Sam when they were around nine and
ten, taken in a studio just down Church Street. She was
wearing a white dress with a little straw bonnet, her hair in
ringlets beneath it. Sam was standing beside her chair in a
dark jacket and knee-length knickerbockers, looking very
serious. Their mother had loved the picture, and Papa had
bought the frame specially for it.
The other picture was the one she'd been asked to keep
for Molly. Her parents were both smiling, and Beth remembered
that seconds after the picture was taken they had all
burst into helpless laughter because when the photographer
bent down to put his head under the black cloth to take the
picture he broke wind.
If only they could have all stayed as happy as they had
been that day! Mama looked so pretty in her best dress and
Papa distinguished in his striped blazer and boater. It had
been very hot, and they'd all taken off their shoes and
stockings and had a paddle in the sea together.
Beth could understand Sam's bitterness. There were times
when she too felt like cursing her mother for bringing all
this down on them. Why couldn't she have been satisfied
with a good, kind husband who loved her?

The following morning Beth was feeling rather more positive
and decided to write out an advertisement for two male
lodgers. Later, with Molly in her arms, she took it down to
the sweet shop further along Church Street. After handing


I
it in to be displayed, she stopped to read the advertisements
already on the board, and noticed one requiring a woman
for a few hours a week to do laundry and sewing.
It was in Falkner Square, in one of Liverpool's best
districts. Beth had often walked around its wide streets and
leafy squares to deliver shoes and boots for her father.
Thinking such a position would be ideal for her, Beth
rushed round to ask Mrs Craven if she would mind Molly
while she went there.
'I'd be glad to, my dear.' Mrs Craven smiled, holding out
her arms for the baby. 'And if it's only a few hours a week
I'd be glad to mind her then too.'
Beth polished her boots, then put on her best dark blue
dress with a lace collar and cuffs and a plain dark blue bonnet
that had been Mama's. It was the first time she'd worn
anything other than black since Papa died, and she felt slightly guilty at not wearing mourning, but both her black
dresses were looking a little shabby now, and dark blue was
hardly frivolous.

Beth's spirits lifted as she set off for it was a lovely warm
day and it felt good to be going out without Molly for once,
almost an adventure.
The gardens in the centre of Falkner Square looked pretty,
with many flowering shrubs in full bloom. She stopped
outside number forty-two, looking speculatively at the steps
down to the basement area behind the black iron railings
and the marble ones up to the front door beneath the
pillared porch.
Beth had been told about life below stairs in big houses by
her mother, and so she knew the basement door was the one
she should knock on. But it had been made quite clear to her
all through her childhood that she wouldn't ever be a servant


to anyone, so she wasn't inclined to think of herself as one now.
Taking a deep breath, she marched up to the front door
and rang the bell. It clanged loudly, echoing through the
house, and suddenly she felt dry-mouthed and nervous.
The door was opened by an elderly woman in a grey dress
with a white apron and frilly cap.
'I came in answer to the advertisement for someone to
help with sewing and laundry,' Beth said, a little too loudly.
'My name is Miss Bolton.'
The woman looked her up and down. 'Where are you
from?' she asked.
'Church Street,' Beth said.
You'd better come in,' the woman said, and frowned as
if puzzled. 'The mistress is out at the moment, but I'll take
your particulars and tell her when she returns.'
The woman led her to the back of the house to a small,
simply furnished room. Beth got the idea it was her room,
for she'd caught a glimpse of the drawing room as she
walked down the hall and that was very grand, with fancy
carpets and lovely couches and armchairs.
'Sit down, please,' the woman said. 'I'm Mrs Bruce, Mrs
Langworthy's housekeeper. How old are you?'
'Sixteen, mam,' Beth said.
'And do you have a character?'
Beth had no idea what she meant by that.
'A letter from your last employer?' Mrs Bruce said rather
tersely.
'I had to leave the hosiery shop where I worked in a
hurry,' Beth said, and breathlessly explained that her recently
widowed mother had died in childbirth. 'I couldn't go back
to my position at the shop as I had to stay home and take
care of my little sister.'

I

I

1



Beth was peeling potatoes for the evening meal, with Molly,
propped up against some cushions in a wooden box beside
the sink, gnawing on a crust of bread, when Mr Filbert, the
man who ran the shoe shop downstairs, called up to her.
'Miss Bolton, a young lad has just brought a letter for you!'
'I'll be right down,' she called back, rinsing her hands and
drying them on her apron. She felt certain the letter could
only be to turn her down, but at least Mrs Langworthy or
her housekeeper had been polite enough to write.

'Not bad news, I hope?' Mr Filbert asked as Beth stood in
the doorway through to his shop gasping at the contents of
the letter she'd just opened.
'No,' Beth said, looking up at him with a broad smile.
'Quite the opposite.'
She could hardly wait for Sam to come home to tell him
the good news. Mrs Langworthy wanted her to start in the
morning. She suggested that Beth work two five-hour days,
as she thought this would make it easier for her to arrange for
someone to take care of the baby. And she was going to pay
her ten whole shillings! Beth had only got seven shillings and
sixpence for working all week at the hosiery shop.

'Our luck has finally changed, Sam,' she yelled exuberantly
the minute her brother came in. His face broke into a wide
smile and he hugged her.
'Mrs Bruce must have fallen for your charm,' he insisted
when she told him how she thought she'd talked too much.
'I just hope Mrs Craven doesn't get fed up with minding
Molly.'
'She said she'd be glad to have her,' Beth said. 'She isn't
nny trouble anyway, and I'll give her a shilling a day.'


All Beth knew of how gentry lived was from what her
mother had told her of her experiences in service, but she
was fairly certain right from the first day at the Langworthys'
that it was a most unusual household.
She arrived at eight as arranged, and Mrs Bruce offered
her a cup of tea and some toast in the basement kitchen.
'You can't work on an empty stomach,' she said, 'and I'm
fairly certain you rushed here without a bite. Now, we'll wait
until Mr Edward, that's the young Mr Langworthy, has left
for the office and I'll take you up to meet the mistress.'
Twenty minutes later, Beth was in the dining room on
the ground floor where Mrs Langworthy was having her
breakfast. It was at the back of the house overlooking a
yard, next to the housekeeper's sitting room where Mrs Bruce had taken her the previous day.
Beth was surprised by Mrs Langworthy. She had expected
someone middle-aged and grey-headed, not a relatively
young woman with flaming red hair, sparkling green eyes
and such a warm smile.
"Welcome, Beth,' she said, getting up from the table and
offering her hand. 'I'm sorry I wasn't here to meet you
yesterday, but Mrs Bruce told me all about you and your
circumstances. I am so sorry to hear of your recent loss, and I
do hope your little sister won't mind me sharing you with her.'
Beth was so staggered at that unexpected warm greeting
that for once she was tongue-tied. She shook her new mistress's
hand and looked at Mrs Bruce for guidance.
'Molly is with a neighbour who she is well used to,' Mrs
Bruce explained.
'Then I'm sure she'll be quite happy,' Mrs Langworthy
said. 'I'll let Mrs Bruce show you around and tell you what's
needed today. I have to see to my father-in-law now, but
I shall see you later in the morning.'

A small, slender, dark-haired Irishwoman in her twenties
was making the bed in Mrs Langworthy's bedroom, which
overlooked the square. Mrs Bruce introduced her as Kathleen
and explained once they left the room that Kathleen lived
in and had a room up on the top floor. 'She is a general
maid - she does all the cleaning and lights the fires. We
have a cook who comes in daily, you'll meet her later, and
then there's myself. Just a small staff, but the Langworthys
don't entertain much, and of course Mrs Langworthy takes
care of old Mr Langworthy.' Mrs Bruce indicated the other
room at the front of the house and explained that was his
room.
'This is Mr Edward's room,' she said, opening a door at
the back. It was starkly masculine, with a vast, highly
polished mahogany wardrobe, its own washbasin with brass
taps and a large bed, already made and covered with a heavy
dark blue quilt. 'The bathroom,' she said, opening the next
door. 'One of the beauties of this house was that it was built
with modern facilities.'
Beth had never seen an indoor water closet before, only
pictures of them in magazines, and couldn't resist saying so.
'Neither had I until I came to work for the Langworthys.'
Mrs Bruce smiled. 'There is another water closet on the
ground floor too, along with the one in the backyard.'
The final room was a guest room. Mrs Bruce said her
(>wn bedroom was up next to Kathleen's.
Mrs Langworthy's clothes, which it would be part of
lieth's duties to take care of, were in a dressing room off
her bedroom, but the housekeeper said that for today she
wanted Beth to do only laundry.
It wasn't until they got back to the basement, having
viewed the large drawing room which took up half the house
1'rom front to back, and Mr Edward's study, a small room

also looking out on to the square, that Beth realized she
wasn't going to be paid so well for doing nothing.
The laundry room had its own door out to the yard, with
two big white sinks, another low one which was called a
sluice, a mangle and a large gas boiler, which had to be lit
from underneath.
There was a big basket of sheets smelling strongly of
urine, which had to be boiled, and then Mrs Bruce lifted the
lid on an enamel pail to reveal soiled napkins.
'Try and think of this as no worse than your Molly's,' she
said, even though she had her nose turned away to avoid
the horrible stench. 'Rinse them off thoroughly in the sluice,
then they must be boiled with the sheets. There will be other
washing, though there is none today, but I want you to
remember that old Mr Langworthy's linen goes in the boiler
alone, after everything else has been done.'
'How long do I boil it for?' Beth asked, trying not to gag
at the very thought of what was in the pail.
'Twenty minutes to half an hour,' the housekeeper said.
'While it's boiling you can wash any delicate items by hand
in the sink.'
'Mrs Langworthy has to change him?' Beth just had to
ask. She couldn't imagine anyone as lovely and well bred as
her doing such a thing.
"Yes, she does, Beth. He always was a difficult man, even
before he had his stroke. But since then he's become very
much worse because one side of him is paralysed and his
speech and sight are impaired. We've had dozens of nurses
here over the years, but he frightens them away. Mrs Langworthy
is the only person he allows to touch him, and she has the
patience of a saint. She should have children, friends visiting
and a life of her own.' Mrs Bruce stopped abruptly and
blushed. 'I shouldn't have said that.' She sighed. 'It's just. . .'

'That you get angry for her?' Beth ventured.
"Yes, Beth.' Mrs Bruce nodded. 'But I spoke out of turn.'
'I won't repeat what you said,' Beth said as she turned on
the tap above the boiler to fill it. 'She was good enough to
give me work when I needed it. For that you both get my
loyalty.'

'So what's it like?' Mrs Craven asked eagerly when Beth
returned in the early afternoon.
Beth picked Molly up from the rug she was sitting on and
tickled her till she laughed. 'Mostly wonderful,' she said. 'It's
a beautiful house, they've even got a water closet inside. But
I wish old Mr Langworthy could use it.'
There weren't words to describe how disgusting she
found sluicing out those napkins. She gagged and retched,
hardly daring to breathe, they smelled so bad. She wondered
how nurses managed to cope with such things day
after day, and if she could ever get used to it and not mind
any more.
But she'd told herself as she walked home that the horrible
part only lasted some twenty minutes at most, which left
four hours, forty minutes of pleasant duties. She didn't mind
rinsing and putting the clean linen through the mangle.
Hanging it up to dry out in the yard was lovely. And she'd
spent the last hour darning Mr Edward's socks while she sat
in the kitchen chatting to Mrs Cray, the cook, and Kathleen,
the soft-spoken Irish maid. What's more, she'd had a huge slice of delicious meat pie for her dinner, and Mrs Cray had
given her a couple of pasties to bring home.
'You can get used to anything in time,' Mrs Craven said
philosophically. 'And I loved having Molly, so it's good for
both of us.'

Mrs Craven was right. Beth found she did get used to
washing those napkins. Or maybe it was just that the good
parts of the job heavily outweighed the bad. It was nice to
get out twice a week, to have other people to talk to, and to
know she was helping Sam keep things going.
She didn't see much of Mr Edward. He had usually left
for his office around the time she arrived, but on the odd occasion she ran into him she found him pleasant enough.
He was tall and slender, with thinning sandy hair and a
military-style moustache, at least ten years older than his
wife. He struck Beth as a studious, quiet man who took life
very seriously.
Mrs Langworthy was quite the opposite. She was so kind
and merry, and always found time to come and find Beth
for a little chat. She loved to hear about Molly, and it was
clear she wished she had a child. She had a wonderful
ability to hold her position as the mistress of the house yet
empathize with those who worked for her. Beth understood
why Mrs Bruce was so devoted to her, and she resolved that
if ever she found herself in a position to have servants, she
would model herself on this admirable woman.
It seemed as if Sam's and Beth's fortunes had finally
turned, for just a week later they found two new lodgers,
Ernest and Peter, both respectable young men who worked
for an insurance company and were friends.
Sam thought it better for Beth that the lodgers should
have the two rooms upstairs and so he moved down to the
parlour. Right from their first night the young men proved
to be ideal lodgers, polite, tidy and sensitive towards Beth
and Molly.
They were both keen cyclists, and every Sunday they went
out with a cycling club for jaunts into the countryside. They
ate whatever Beth put in front of them, they were grateful

she did their washing, and neither of them drank. Sam
enjoyed their company, and often in the evenings the four
of them played cards together. Sometimes they begged Beth
to play her fiddle and clapped their hands and tapped their
feet to accompany her. Those were the best nights of all
because for a couple of hours all her cares fell away with
the music and she felt as free and untroubled as a bird.
It seemed to Beth, too, that Sam was actually growing
fond of Molly at last. Sometimes, if he came in from work
and she was sitting on the floor, he'd bend down and pat
her head, as Ernest and Peter often did. Beth didn't say
anything -- she was sure that if she did remark on it he
would never do it again -- but she'd watch him out of the
corner of her eye and note that he was playing peekaboo
with Molly, or tickling her to make her laugh.
One evening in August after Beth had put Molly to bed,
she'd gone across to see Mrs Craven for a few minutes and
came back to find Sam holding the little girl in his arms.
'She woke up crying,' he said defensively. 'I thought she
might have a tummy ache.'
The following day when she had to go to Falkner Square
Beth felt like skipping the whole way, she was so happy.
Later that morning she was in the little room off the kitchen
where they kept the sewing machine, singing as she turned
some worn sheets sides to middle and sewed them up again,
when Mrs Langworthy came in.
'And what has turned you into a littie songbird?' she said
with a wide smile.
'I'm just feeling happy because my brother seems to be
getting fond of Molly at last,' Beth admitted. 'We had so
many problems after our mother died, you see. It was
difficult for him to accept Molly.'
'I don't think men have that instant love for babies that

women feel,' Mrs Langworthy said thoughtfully. 'Many of
my friends have told me their husbands showed no interest
at first. It must have been harder still for your brother, you
both being so young.'
Beth chatted on about their two lodgers, and how Sam
seemed much happier lately. 'He hasn't even mentioned
emigrating to America for ages,' she said.
'Would you have liked to do that?' her mistress asked.
'Well, yes,' Beth replied. 'What an adventure it would be!
But it wouldn't be possible with Molly, would it? I'd have
to work too if we wanted to make a real go of it. Without
any friends or family there we'd have no one to mind her.'
'It seems a shame to me that you and your brother have to sacrifice your dreams or ambitions,' Mrs Langworthy
remarked, and patted Beth on the shoulder in sympathy.

One hot, sunny Saturday right at the end of August Sam
came home from work and suggested they should catch the
ferry to New Brighton the following day. Ernest and Peter
were planning to go out early on their bicycles, and as they
had already said they wouldn't want any supper as they were
eating out, it meant Sam and Beth wouldn't have to rush
back.
Beth was thrilled at Sam's suggestion, not only because she
had so many good memories of going to New Brighton for
the day with their parents, but because he was including Molly.
'Put on something pretty,' he suggested. 'You've been in
mourning for quite long enough. It's time we had some fun.'
Just a week or two before, Beth had gone through her
mother's clothes to see what could be sold, or altered to fit
her, and she'd found tucked away at the bottom of the
cupboard the pale blue and white striped dress Mama had
been wearing in the photograph. Beth had been longing to

wear it, for it was very pretty, with a lower neckline than
she usually wore, leg-of-mutton sleeves and a pin-tucked
bodice. She'd had to let the waist out a fraction and drop the
hem an inch or two, but it fitted everywhere else perfectly.

'You look lovely,' Sam said appreciatively when she came
into the kitchen on Sunday morning, ready to leave.
Beth was quite giddy with excitement, for with her hair
left loose and a pert little straw boater perched on top at an
angle, she felt quite the young lady of fashion. Molly seemed
to pick up on her excitement for she began laughing and
clapping her fat little hands as Beth carried her downstairs
and put her into the perambulator.
As they turned into Lord Street to make their way down
to the docks and the ferry, Sam was clearly equally excited,
for he began playing games with Molly and making her laugh
as he walked along beside the perambulator.
There were hundreds of people making their way in the
same direction. New Brighton, with its sandy beach, carousels,
donkey rides and promenade, was a popular day out
for working people.
It was the best day ever. They ate ice cream, candy floss,
shrimps and meat pies, and they laughed uproariously at
Molly who wanted everything they ate. She was so greedy
for the ice cream that she almost stood up to try to reach
it, and it became daubed all over her face.
They took off their boots and paddled, rode the carousel
with Sam holding Molly in front of him, and Beth won a jar
of bull's-eyes on the hoopla stall. Sam tested his strength
and only got the indicator to rise as far as puny, while other
lads far smaller than him were making the bell ring. But he
did win a coconut on the coconut shy. They had their
photograph taken in a booth on the beach too. They had to

queue for ages while the mothers in front of them turned
to their grubby children and wiped their faces with a spit
dampened rag and pulled combs through unruly hair.
Beth found it hard not to laugh when she finally got into
the booth and was told to sit on the chair with Molly on
her lap. Sam stood behind, one hand on her shoulder. The
background scenery was of a castle and a lake. She wondered
if one day in years to come Molly would look at the photograph
and ask where that castle was in Liverpool.

It was almost eight before they arrived home, and Sam's
sunburnt face was the colour of a lobster. 'I'll make some
tea while you put Molly to bed,' he said and bent to kiss the
little girl as she lay sleepily in Beth's arms.
That was the crowning moment of the day for Beth. It
might have taken eight months to come, but it was all the
sweeter for knowing he hadn't done it out of duty, but real
affection.
'You little charmer!' Beth whispered to Molly as she took
off her clothes and napkin to wash her. 'You finally won
him round.'
Beth stayed in the kitchen long after Sam, Ernest and
Peter had gone to bed. She thought how good it had been
to see Sam laughing again, to feel hope for the future in her
own heart, and a certain pride that she'd done so well at
being a stand-in mother for Molly. Molly's dark hair was
curly now, her cheeks like little apples, and a great many
people had stopped to admire her today. Soon she would
be walking and talking too. Beth smiled as she remembered
how frightened she'd been that night she was born and Mrs Craven said she must take care of her. But she'd done all
right and so had Sam.

I



Beth woke up suddenly, and finding she was very hot, she
sat up to push the blankets back to the foot of the bed. She
didn't think she'd been asleep long for she could still faintly
hear drunks in Church Street. But as she turned her pillow
over and lay down again, she heard a sound out in the back
alley.
She stiffened. She was well used to people walking up and
down the alley -- nearly everyone who lived above the shops
used their back doors to go in and out. And people like the
Cravens who lived in the houses in the street behind Church
Street had access to it as well. But the sound she heard wasn't
someone walking home purposefully, or even stumbling
drunkenly, it was more like someone creeping, trying not to
be heard.
Beth had double-checked that she'd locked the back door
when she went out last thing to the privy, so she knew
no one could get in. But remembering Ernest and Peter's
bicycles were out in the yard, she thought it might be
someone trying to steal them.
She got out of bed and went to the window, but although
she could just about make out the back gate in the moonlight,
she couldn't see the bicycles because the boys had
probably leaned them against the side wall of the privy, and
the roof of the lean-to was obscuring her vision.
As she couldn't hear anything more, she decided it was
probably only a cat and got back into bed. But when she
heard another small noise a few moments later, she jumped
up and padded out of the bedroom into the kitchen to look
out of the window where she had a view of most of the
backyard.
She pulled back the lace curtain, and while there wasn't
enough light to make out anything more than a dark shape
against the privy wall, she could see a glint of chrome, so

that satisfied her that the bicycles were still there. But as she
dropped the curtain she heard another sound, and snatching
it up again, this time she saw a silhouette as someone
ran across the yard, pulled open the gate and disappeared
through it.

The shape was in her line of vision for no more than a
second, but she felt certain it was a woman. Yet while she
knew thieves could be of either sex, she couldn't imagine a
woman prowling around at this time of night. She stood
there for a moment in puzzlement, considering whether she
should go and wake Sam. Deciding that was pointless as the
intruder had gone and Sam had to be at work early in the
morning, she turned to go back to the bedroom.

But as she reached the door she smelled paraffin and
heard a whooshing sound.

It could only be fire.

In horror she ran to the top of the stairs and looked
down to see flames flickering. It hadn't been a thief, but
someone intent on burning them all alive.

'Fire!' she screamed at the top of her voice. 'Sam! Ernest!
Peter! Fire! Get up now!'
Chapter Seven

Scooping Molly out of her cradle, Beth snatched up a blanket
and ran along the passage to the parlour where Sam was
sleeping.
'Wake up, Sam!' she yelled, shaking him. 'There's a
fire!'
He hadn't drawn the parlour curtains before going to bed
and there was enough light from the street lamps outside
for her to see him clearly. He opened his eyes and looked blankly at her for a second, but when she repeated the
warning he leapt out of bed, snatched up his trousers and
jumped into them.
'Get Ernest and Peter!' she shouted, and he was off down
the passage like a shot. Smoke was billowing up the stairs
now, and Beth knew she had to think of an alternative way
to escape.
Shutting the parlour door and putting Molly down on
Sam's bed, she flung up the sash window as wide as it would
go and screamed out, hoping a policeman or anyone nearby
would hear her. But the street below was deserted, with not
so much as a cat prowling around.
The boys came thundering down the stairs and burst into
the parlour. 'How did it start?' Peter asked, his voice shrill
with fright.
'Never mind that now,' Ernest said as he leant out of the
window. 'It's too high to jump from here. Maybe the back
windows would be easier?'
'I'll go and look,' Sam said, taking command. "You stay

here, use the sheets and anything else to make a rope. Beth,
carry on screaming for all you're worth.'
He was gone in a flash, only to return seconds later
coughing from the smoke and carrying a pile of bedding.
'The fire's got the whole staircase and it's too dangerous to
try to get out of the bedroom window because the flames
are right beneath it,' he gasped. 'We'll have to get out this
way. Beth, stop up the gap under the door with the rug.
Ernie, help me throw the mattress out to soften our landing,
then we'll lower you. Beth and Molly can go after that.'
Beth did as he asked, ramming the rug against the door
bottom as tightly as she could. Ernest and Peter had already
got two sheets knotted together, and they tugged at it to
make sure it was strong enough, yelling for help at the top
of their voices as they did so. Beth snatched Molly up again
as the boys manhandled the mattress out of the window,
then Ernest got out on to the window sill and took the end
of the sheet, and with Sam and Peter holding the other end,
they gradually lowered him down.
As the boys were busy at the window Beth looked for
something secure to put Molly into. Seeing the coal scuttle,
she grabbed it and tipped out the coal into the fireplace.
Molly was crying now, frightened by all the noise and panic
around her, Beth sat her in the scuttle and wedged her in
with a pillow.
'Good girl,' Sam said approvingly. Ernest was yelling fit
to bust down on the street, Peter joining in at the window.
Sam quickly tied the sheet rope around the coal-scuttle
handle and tested it for strength.
Beth's heart was in her mouth as she watched Molly's
descent to the street below. Sam and Peter were lowering
her very carefully, but the coal scuttle was swaying precariously.
If Molly struggled it would tip over to one side.

7°
Fortunately she remained still and reached the safety of
Ernest's arms.
'Now you, Beth,' Sam said as he pulled the sheet rope
up again. You cling on to the sheet like grim death. I'll
lower you.'
Beth was terrified as she crawled backwards on to the
window sill. She had bare feet and was wearing only her
nightgown with nothing beneath it. Even in such a desperate
situation she couldn't bear the thought of anyone seeing her
private parts.
'Wind it round your wrist and hold it tightly,' Sam ordered
her. 'Use your feet to help you down the wall. We'll let it
down gently, we won't drop you.'
Nothing in her life had been so frightening. She was
terrified of plunging down and breaking her neck and all
too aware that the breeze had got under her nightgown and
that Ernest was looking right up at her. But she had to do
it quickly because Sam and Peter needed to get down too.
'Good girl, only a few more feet and you can jump,'
Ernest called out. 'The mattress is right below and I'm here
to catch you.'
She got a bit hooked up on the signboard along the top
of the shop window, but she managed to get beyond it and
then Ernest told her to jump.
People were spilling out of their homes now to see what
all the noise was about, and the sound reassured her a little.
She let go of the sheet and dropped to her feet on the
mattress.
Snatching Molly out of Ernest's arms, she glanced into
the shop window and to her further horror saw flames
licking all around the door at the back which led to their
flat. Smoke was billowing overhead too and more and more people were coming out on to the street. She hoped the fire


brigade would get here before the whole terrace of shops
burned down.
'I've got a ladder!' yelled a male voice. 'Two minutes and
I'll get it to you.'
Sam, meanwhile, was assisting Peter out of the window.
'How is Sam going to get down?' Beth asked Ernest. 'There
isn't anything to tie the sheet to up there.'
'The ladder might be here by then,' Ernest said. 'Come
on, Pete,' he shouted. 'Mind how you go when you reach
the signboard of the shop.'
Peter jumped the last ten feet and turned to Ernest. 'The
fire's at the door up there now,' he said. 'How's Sam going
to get down?'
Beth could see the flames leaping across the shop floor.
Before long the fire would be raging up the front of the
building and trapping her brother.
'Sam!' Beth yelled. 'Drag the bed over to the window.
The headboard is too big to go through it, so you can tie
the sheet to that.'
She felt sick with fright and wished she could see if Sam
was obeying her -- it would be just like him to try to collect
up a few valuables before he left. It was mayhem out in the
street now, some people shouting that they should start a
chain of buckets of water, others panicking that their homes
might be at risk, barefooted children in their nightclothes
crying because they couldn't see their parents. A few people
were blowing whisdes and more were banging on other
doors in an attempt to get the occupants out.
But just as Beth was beginning to think Sam was lost to
her, the sheet came spilling out of the window and he was
outside on the sill, bare-chested, the street light shining on
his blond hair, her fiddle case in his hand.
'Catch this,' he yelled, and tossed it down into Peter's

hands. Just as the flames behind the shop window began to
crack the glass, Sam came down the sheet hand over hand.
Beth ran to hug him. 'What made you think of rescuing
the fiddle?' she asked.
'Something told me I must.' He shrugged. 'I know how
much it means to you.'
It was some fifteen minutes later that the first fire engine
arrived, the firemen leaping off and fastening the hose to
the water supply, but by then the front of the building was
ablaze. The horses were taken out of the shafts and led
further down the street away from the fierce heat, and Beth
and the boys huddled together on the other side of the
street, watching the scene in horror.
It was then that Beth realized they had lost everything.
Their home, their clothes, their money. All gone.
They were destitute and homeless.

Their landlord and Mr Filbert, the tenant in the shop,
would have insurance, but they had none. Sam hadn't even
got a suit of clothing to put on to go to work in the morning.
As for Molly, she had just a nightgown, a napkin and a
blanket.
Beth shivered with fear, not the cold. Someone put a
blanket around her shoulders and she heard them asking if
they had someone they could go to. Tears came then, scalding
hot tears that splashed down her cheeks on to Molly,
who had fallen asleep in her arms.
Two more fire engines arrived, one going to the back of
the building, but the fire was still raging and it looked as if
the ironmonger's on one side and the haberdasher's on the
other would go up too. Policemen were trying to get the
huge crowd to move right back well out of the way.
'How did it start?' someone shouted.

'Someone set it purposely,' Beth called back. 'I saw them



running out the back gate. They put paraffin through the
letterbox, they wanted to kill us all.'
One of the policemen came over to her and asked her to
repeat what he'd just heard her say. 'Have you any idea who
it could have been?' he asked.
'Try looking for Jane Wiley.' She spat out the name. 'She
used to be our lodger.'
Mrs Craven suddenly appeared through the crowd with
her husband beside her. 'I'm here, lovey,' she called. 'We
won't see you and Sam homeless after all you've been
through.' She pushed her way over to Beth and opened her
big arms to encircle her and Molly. 'You come with us now.'

Barefoot, with only a cotton nightgown and her fiddle to
her name, and Molly in her arms, Beth walked with the
Cravens to their home, leaving Sam to follow once he'd
found someone who could take in Ernest and Peter. The
Cravens' two small rooms had been the haven Beth had run
to many times in the past months when she had a problem, or
just needed someone older and wiser to talk to. But she was
very aware that it could only be the most temporary refuge
now, for her neighbours were too old to have the disruption
of unexpected guests, and too poor to have to feed them.

Beth couldn't sleep. It wasn't just the hiss of water jets
playing on the fire, or firemen shouting to one another less
than forty yards away across the back alley. It wasn't even
the hard floor of Mrs Craven's living room, or the smoke
laden air that kept her awake. It was the knowledge that
Jane Wiley had started the fire viciously and wantonly.

She didn't know how anyone could be that wicked, for
even if she hadn't actually intended to kill them, she must
have set out to destroy their home.

Everything gone -- clothes, furniture and money -- but
even worse, to Beth, was the loss of all the little personal
things and family photographs, mementos of her parents
and grandparents which could never be replaced. She was
touched that Sam had thought to rescue her fiddle, but it
seemed such a frivolous item to save.
Practical as ever, Mrs Craven had found a couple of
napkins and a baby gown for Molly and made an impromptu
cradle for her out of a drawer. She'd said that the Salvation
Army helped people in their position by giving clothes and
boots, and she had no doubt the neighbours would make a
collection for them too. But Beth was too demorali2ed to
find any comfort in that.

'It's the best we can do for now,' Mr Craven said as he
handed Sam a shirt, jacket and boots belonging to a neighbour
the following morning.
Sam put them on gratefully, but their owner was clearly
a great deal bigger than Sam and they made him look like a
clown.
'At least I've got my own trousers still,' Sam remarked. 'I
won't have to worry about them falling down round my
ankles.'
'They'll understand at your work,' Beth said, sensing he
was anxious about what the office manager was going to say
about his appearance. She went over to him and straightened the shirt collar.
'Don't worry, Beth,' he said. 'On the way home tonight
I'll go and see the Salvation Army and see if they've got
some things I can have.'
Beth was still in her soot-blackened nightgown, but Mrs
(Graven had gone round to her daughter's to see if she had
some clothes to lend. It had brought Beth up sharply to


discover that most other people had just two sets of clothes,
one for everyday and one for best. She'd been fortunate to
have five or six dresses and it had never occurred to her
that this was unusual.
The fire was completely out now. Mr Craven had been
to inspect and said the entire staircase had caved in, the
windows had exploded, and the frames and interior doors
had all burnt out along with the furniture. The shop
below was completely gutted too. Mr Filbert hadn't arrived
yet, but when he did he was going to have a tremendous
shock.
Mrs Craven arrived back from her daughter's soon after
Sam left for work. 'This is really shabby,' she said, pulling a
very worn and faded green dress out of her bag. 'It's the
only thing my Cathy could spare, but it should fit you.
There's these boots too.'
Beth looked down at the boots and saw the upper on the
right one had partially come away from the sole; they were
also two sizes too big for her. But at least she had something
to put on.
'I was supposed to go to Falkner Square today,' she said.
'Should I still go?'
'Of course you should, you can't afford to lose that job
now,' Mrs Craven said a little sharply, as if she'd already
begun to regret taking Beth and Sam in. 'Now, take a bowl
of water in the other room and have a good wash. You've
still got soot smuts on your face.'

By the time Beth got to Falkner Square she had a blister on
her foot from the overlarge boots.
'Beth!' Mrs Bruce exclaimed as she came limping into the
kitchen. 'What on earth has happened to you?'
As Beth told the story she began to cry. Mrs Bruce made

her sit down and gave her a cup of tea and her undivided
attention.
'So that's why I look the way I do,' Beth finished up,
wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. 'I don't know
where we're going to live or how we'll manage. We had such
a lovely time yesterday at New Brighton, I really thought
we'd turned a corner and everything was going to be better.'
Mrs Bruce gave her a pat on the shoulder. 'I am so sorry,
my dear, it must have been a terrible shock to you. But for
now I suggest you take those horrible boots off or the blister
will just get worse. You get on with the laundry and I'll talk
to you later.'
That sounded very much as if the housekeeper thought
Beth had wallowed in self-pity for long enough, and however
wretched Beth felt, she knew keeping this job was
all-important. She took her boots off and got on with the
laundry, almost glad to see a huge pile for it would take her
mind off her problems.
It was after twelve when Mrs La'ngworthy came out into
the backyard as Beth was hanging out the last of the washing.
She looked very lovely in a pale green and white dress, her
red hair fixed up on top of her head with a couple of
tortoiseshell combs.
'Mrs Bruce has been telling me about the fire, Beth,' she
said in a concerned tone. 'I am so very sorry.'

'I daresay I'll get over it,' Beth replied. She really didn't
want to play for sympathy and it was enough for her that
the mistress had come to speak to her.
'But where will you live?' Mrs Langworthy asked. 'It's
very difficult when you have a baby to consider.'
'We're all right for the next couple of nights with our
neighbour. We'll get somewhere at the end of the week
when Sam gets paid.'


'I can imagine the kind of places on offer when you are
desperate.' Mrs Langworthy pursed her lips in disapproval.
'I really can't bear the thought of it, so I want you to take
the rooms above the stable. They've been empty since my
father-in-law had his stroke and we dispensed with our
coachman.'
Beth could only stare at her mistress in amazement.
'I didn't put you down as a girl with nothing to say for
herself.' Mrs Langworthy laughed lightly.
'I'm sorry, mam,' Beth said quickly. 'I was just that surprised.
I can't believe you'd be that kind.'
'Maybe you won't think it so kind when you see how
dusty it is!'
Beth's face broke into a wide smile. 'I don't care if it's
like the Black Hole of Calcutta. I'd work for you every day
for nothing in return for a place to live.'
'That won't be necessary,' Mrs Langworthy said crisply.
'Just pop up there now and give it a clean before you go
and get Molly and your brother. I'll ask Mrs Bruce to sort
out some bedding and linen for you.'

Beth stood at the top of the wooden stairs inside the disused
stable looking into the first of the two rooms, and her spirits
rose. It was small and very dirty, but she could see that once
she'd cleaned the windows it would be light and airy because
it had windows both on the side which overlooked the
Langworthys' backyard and on the mews side. It had a sink,
a stove and a table and chairs. Excitedly, she rushed across
to look in the other room and found there was an old iron
bedstead and a truckle bed, which she could put in the
kitchen for Sam.
She had no real idea what kind of accommodation she
and Sam could have got for a rent they could afford. But

she was absolutely certain it would not have been anything
like this, and probably just one room in a slum.

Beth worked like a beaver cleaning the rooms for two
hours. She propped the two mattresses up in the sun to
air, scrubbed the floors and cleaned the windows. When
she'd finished there wasn't a single cobweb anywhere, but
she looked like a chimney sweep and her bare feet were
black.
Mrs Bruce and Katherine came across the yard just as she
finished, each laden down with a pile of blankets, pillows
and clean linen. They helped Beth make up the two beds,
and Mrs Bruce put a red and white checked cloth over the
table.
'Isn't it wonderful?' Beth gasped. 'I can't believe any one
could be as kind as Mrs Langworthy.'
'She's had more than her share of bad luck and hard
times,' Mrs Bruce said knowingly. 'And she said you're to
go upstairs and have a bath and wash your hair before you
go to get Molly. She's found a few clothes for you too.'

As Beth lay back in the warm water, letting her hair drift on
the surface, she was staggered by how she could have gone
from sheer desperation to bliss in such a few hours.
She'd only ever been in a tin bath before, and not since
she was five or six had she been able to lie down in one.
She just hoped people had been as kind to Sam today as
they'd been to her.
The clothes Mrs Langworthy had given her were folded on the bathroom stool. A dark blue skirt, a blue blouse
with white spots, a chemise, drawers and a petticoat. She
wondered if Mrs Langworthy knew she'd had nothing under
that horrible green dress today. Mrs Bruce had given her a


pair of her boots and some stockings as Mrs Langworthy's
were too big.
Lovely as it was in the bath, Beth knew she must hurry
now and get back to Mrs Craven and Molly.
'Well, blow me down!' Mrs Craven gasped as Beth turned
into her backyard in new clothes and her hair shining like
polished ebony. 'Someone's done you proud, and I know it
weren't the Sally Army!'
Beth smiled, partly because she felt more like her old self
again, all clean and neat, but also because it was pleasing to
find Mrs Craven outside in the sunshine with Molly.
She picked her little sister up off the blanket she was
sitting on, and hugged her. 'Beth's got a nice surprise for
you,' she said.
'Well, you've fallen on your feet and no mistake,' Mrs
Craven exclaimed after Beth had told her about the morning's
events. 'Talk about lucky!'
Beth felt a little embarrassed then, for it sounded as if
her neighbour was almost disappointed that her luck had
turned so soon. 'It won't be the same without having you
just across the alley,' she said quickly. 'You've been so very
kind, Mrs Craven, right since Papa went. I don't know what
Sam and I would've done without you.'
Her neighbour beamed at that. 'Just make certain you
come round to see me now and then. I shall miss you all,
but specially my little Molly.' She held out a finger to the baby
who grasped it eagerly. 'Now, I've got some news for you too.
The police have arrested Jane Wiley. That copper what talked
to your Sam last night came round this morning after you
left and told me. She's denying it of course, but they could
smell paraffin on her clothes. The copper said someone
round at her lodgings said they saw her go out later at night
too, and it was after Thomas rolled back from the pub.'

'What will happen to her?'
'Prison, of course,' Mrs Craven said with relish. 'And a
long stretch too, I expect. I hope she rots there.'
Beth nodded in agreement. 'Have you heard how Mr
Filbert and the other two shopkeepers are?' she asked. 'It
must be terrible for them to lose their businesses.'
'I heard they was savage about it. A few looters got in
¦the ironmonger's before they got the window boarded up.'
Beth shook her head in disgust. 'Any news of Ernest and
Peter?'
'They come and took their bicycles away this morning,
and asked after you. Someone in Lord Street took them in
¦last night and got them fixed up with some clothes, but
they'll be all right, they've got families with a bit of brass to
help them.'
At that, Beth remembered she had brought back the dress
¦and boots she'd borrowed. She handed them over and then
drew out of the bag a large meat pie Mrs Cray, the cook,
had given her.
'I wish I had some money to buy you something to show
how grateful I am for your kindness,' she said, 'but maybe
we could all share this before we leave later, and when I
come to visit you again I won't be empty-handed.'
'Bless you.' Mrs Craven's eyes lit up at the sight of the
pie. 'You're a good girl, Beth, your mother would be proud
of you.'

Sam turned up at half past six, carrying a brown paper
parcel. He was still wearing the overlarge jacket and shirt,
and said the other clerks had teased him all day. But the
office manager had given him five pounds from the company
relief fund intended to help employees in distressed
circumstances.

'I bought some clothes for myself in the second-hand
shop,' he said. 'I was going to say you could take some of it
and get yourself some clothes tomorrow, but it looks like
you are all fixed up. That will leave us with more for rent
for a new place.'
Beth told him her news then, and Sam looked staggered.
'Why would she do that?' he asked.
'Because she's kind and generous, so we'd better make
sure we don't make her regret it.' Beth smiled.

It transpired that the perambulator left in the back shed was
unscathed by the fire, just covered in soot. After supper,
Beth and Sam tucked Molly into it, along with a small bag
of baby clothes people had brought round for her, and the
fiddle, and said goodbye to the Cravens and made their way
to Falkner Square.
'I can't really believe we've lost everything,' Sam sighed
as they cut down a back alley which would bring them out
on to Seel Street. 'You said you didn't like Jane Wiley the
first time you met her. I wish I'd trusted your judgement.'
'I can take no satisfaction in that,' Beth replied grimly.
'Maybe if I hadn't been quite so hasty in throwing her out,
she wouldn't have done it. But let's not dwell on that. No
one died in the fire thankfully, and maybe a new start will
be good for us.'
'But we've got to toughen up,' Sam said thoughtfully. 'We
can't let things keep happening to us. We need to work out
what we really want and strive towards that.'
"What do you want?' Beth asked. It was a beautiful warm
evening, and though she was terribly tired, she actually felt
she had everything she wanted right here: Molly asleep in
the perambulator; Sam beside her, and a new home waiting
for them.

'To go to America,' he said. 'I don't want to be subservient
to others, sitting on a stool scratching away at
ledgers and feeling I should be grateful for the pittance I
get each week. Neither do I want you growing old before
your time scrubbing other people's clothes. America is a
vast, young country, full of opportunity. We could do well
there.'
'I'm sure we could.' Beth was afraid to ask whether he
was including Molly in this dream. 'But first we have to get
back on our feet.'

"¦
Chapter Eight

Edna Bruce was checking the monthly account from the
butcher's when she heard Beth sigh. Looking up, she noticed
the girl looked unusually pensive as she sewed some buttons
on to one of Mr Edward's shirts.
They were in what had once been the butler's parlour,
the room at the bottom of the basement steps. In the
absence of a butler it was used now as a sewing and ironing
room, and as it was raining hard outside, Molly was there
with them in her perambulator having her midday sleep.
It was six weeks since Beth and her little family had come
to live in Falkner Square, and Mrs Bruce was delighted by
how well it was working out.
She only ever saw Sam on Sundays because he left for
work early in the morning, but she had found him to be a
very pleasant young man.
Beth came in for three hours each weekday now, which
suited everyone better as the laundry didn't mount up into
unmanageable amounts. She brought Molly over with her,
and in good weather she stayed in her perambulator outside
in the yard.
Not that she was ever in it for long! Mrs Bruce, Cook
and Kathleen were all guilty of getting her out to cuddle
her, as was the mistress too. On the odd occasions Mr
Edward was home during the morning and came down to
the basement, he too fell for her charms and stopped to
play with her.
In truth, Molly had become everyone's pet. Her curly

hair, treacle-brown eyes and ready smiles made fools of all
of them. She was a remarkably happy baby, she hardly ever
cried, and would go willingly to anyone.

But the most surprising consequence of Beth coming to
live in Falkner Square was that old Mr Langworthy had
taken to her. That had never happened with anyone before.
It came about because Beth volunteered to sit with him one
afternoon while the mistress popped out for an hour. When
she got back she found her father-in-law engrossed in listening
to Beth reading from a penny dreadful. Apparently she'd
put it in her pocket to read, expecting him to be asleep, but
on finding him wide awake, she thought she might as well
see how he liked it.

As old Mr Langworthy had been something of an intellectual
snob before his stroke and wouldn't have allowed such
lowbrow reading matter in the house, both his son and
daughter-in-law found this very amusing.

Now Beth often read to him, or just went in and chatted
to him. She didn't seem in the least put off by his incapacity,
or that he spoke in grunts and odd sounds; in fact she spoke
to him as she would to anyone else, about things in the
news, books she'd read in the past, and about her late
parents.

Yet however well things were working out, both Mrs
Bruce and Mrs Langworthy were a little concerned that such
a vibrant young girl had such a narrow life. It wasn't a hard
one by any means; most girls in service worked from six in
the morning until their master and mistress went to bed. In
fact, if Beth was married and Molly her own child, it could
have been said to be a charmed life. But Sam was not her
husband, and as he'd now got a second job as a barman at
the Adelphi Hotel and was out every evening, Beth was
always alone.
Mrs Langworthy herself had said it was no life for such a
young girl to be stuck in a couple of rooms with a baby,
and no family or friends to visit. Mrs Bruce thought perhaps
this was what was ailing Beth now.
'Is there something troubling you, Beth?' she asked. 'You are awfully quiet today.'
'I was just thinking how hard Sam works,' Beth said with
a little shrug of her shoulders. 'He wants to go to America,
you see, that's why he took the barman's job. He thought
some experience like that would stand him in good stead.'
This was the first Mrs Bruce had heard of this. 'Is he
planning to go without you?' she asked.
'No, he wants me to go too. But I don't see how I can,
there's Molly to think of.'
'People emigrate with children all the time,' Mrs Bruce
said evenly. 'They manage. I've heard of some going with
five or six children.'
Yes, but it's different with Sam being my brother.' Beth
sighed, her blue eyes suddenly very sad. 'I wouldn't want to
spoil his chances, and having us two to support would be
difficult for him.'
Mrs Bruce thought about that for a few moments. 'Yes,
I suppose you are right, he wouldn't be free to travel and
look for the best prospects, and later if he wanted to get
married, that could be a problem. But it's hardly fair that
you should be left behind with all the responsibility of Molly,
either here or over there. She's his sister too.'
'That's the nub of the whole thing,' Beth replied, her
voice flat and dispirited. 'He's far too conscientious to leave
us, but I feel bad that I'm holding him back.'

'I see.' Mrs Bruce nodded. 'Tell me, if you didn't have
Molly, would you like to go to America?' she asked.
'Oh yes,' Beth exclaimed, her eyes brightening. 'It sounds

86

I
such a wonderful place. I often daydream of playing the
piano in a big hotel.'
'You play the piano?'
Beth smiled shyly at her surprise. 'Yes, though I'm probably
rusty now because we had to sell ours when Mama
died. I play the fiddle too. Sam managed to save it in the
fire. I like that best, but Mama called it Devil's music because
they play the fiddle in low ale houses.'
Mrs Bruce smiled. She had heard someone playing jigs
on a fiddle on many an occasion but she'd never guessed it
was coming from the coach house. She didn't think it was
Devil's music either; it was gay and bright. 'Why didn't you
ever tell me this before?' she asked. 'It's such a wonderful
accomplishment.'
'I thought it might sound like I was boasting. Servants
aren't supposed to do that.'
'I would never have thought it boastful, and I would
love you to bring your fiddle over here sometime and play
for me.'
The way Beth's eyes lit up made Mrs Bruce smile. 'And
don't you stop dreaming or planning for your future,' she
went on. 'I made the mistake of always putting duty before
my own desires and ambitions, and because of that I missed
out on marriage and children. I wouldn't want that to happen
to you.'
'What wouldn't you want to happen to Beth?'
Both Mrs Bruce and Beth turned their heads in surprise
on hearing Mrs Langworthy's question. They hadn't heard
her come down the stairs to the basement. She looked
stunning in her apple-green silk dress with leg-of-mutton
sleeves and her hair arranged in sleek, fat curls on the top
of her head.
'Beth was just telling me that Sam is dead set on going to

America, and I suspect she really wants to go with him,' Mrs
Bruce said.
'I can understand that.' Mrs Langworthy nodded. 'It
sounds such a wonderful, exciting place. But don't go rushing off just yet, Beth, I've just got used to having your help.
And seeing this little one every day!' She stood by the perambulator
looking down at Molly adoringly. 'She is just the
most perfect baby. I wish she'd wake up so I could cuddle her.'
Mrs Bruce could feel her mistress's raw longing for a
child as she leaned over Molly. When she first married Mr
Edward she used to say she wanted at least six children, and
she was so strong and healthy that Mrs Bruce had expected
it would come about in the fullness of time. But it hadn't,
and as each year passed it seemed less likely.
Molly woke and stretched. On seeing Mrs Langworthy,
her face broke into a wide smile and she lifted her arms to
be picked up.
'She'll be wet and spoil your dress,' Beth said in alarm.
'As if I care about that!' Mrs Langworthy laughed and
eagerly scooped the baby up. 'So, little Molly, it must be
nearly your dinnertime,' she said. 'What is it to be today?'
Molly was busy playing with Mrs Langworthy's necklace,
and tentatively tried to chew it.
'Cook saved some of the lamb stew from last night for
her,' Mrs Bruce said. 'She's such a joy to feed, I've never
seen her refuse anything.'
'Could I feed her?' Mrs Langworthy asked.
Beth couldn't understand why her mistress would want
to do such a thing, but she readily agreed. 'You'd better put
an apron on, though, she's a bit messy,' she added.

Mrs Bruce busied herself with her duties, but made a point
of going in and out of the kitchen as Mrs Langworthy fed

Molly. To her surprise the mistress looked entirely at ease
with the baby on her lap, spooning the food into her greedy
little mouth. Yet even more amusing to watch was Beth, for
as she sat on the opposite side of the table to the mistress,
her mouth kept opening and shutting in time with Molly,
and every now and then her hand would move involuntarily
as if unable to believe Mrs Langworthy could scoop uneaten
food from around the child's mouth and pop that in too,
the way she did.
Her mistress clearly picked up on Beth's tension. 'I have
had some previous experience,' she said with a gay little
laugh. 'I used to feed my younger brothers and sisters regularly.
I just haven't had any encounters with babies or small
children since I married.'
'You are really good at it,' Beth said admiringly. 'I was
scared stiff of Molly at first. I'd never even held a newborn
baby before, much less fed and changed one.'
'I must try changing her too,' Mrs Langworthy said, her
face all aglow. 'Babies are much more agreeable to take care
of than grumpy old men.'
Mrs Bruce turned away so that neither Beth nor her
mistress would see the tears well up in her eyes. She sensed
it could only end badly because Beth would move on before
long and take Molly with her.

All through the autumn, at Christmas and into the New
Year of 1895, Mrs Bruce watched Beth and Molly gradually
working their way into everyone's hearts at Falkner Square.
She knew it wasn't her imagination because she too was
falling under their spell.
It was hard not to love someone who could sing even
when she was sluicing filthy napkins. Her merry laugh enlivened
the basement; her eagerness to help everyone with

their chores created a happy atmosphere. She would gladly
spend the afternoon cleaning silver, pressing Mr Edward's
clothes or reading to old Mr Langworthy, even though she
wasn't paid to do any of these extra duties. Perhaps it was
because she preferred to work than be alone with Molly in
her rooms, but whatever the reason, Mrs Bruce liked having
her around.

They had celebrated Molly's first birthday before Christmas
in the kitchen. Cook made a special iced cake and a trifle,
Kathleen the maid had blown up balloons, and even Sam
and Mr Edward came home earlier to be there. Beth had
made Molly a new pink dress, which she immediately daubed
with trifle. She had been able to walk a few steps holding
on to someone's hands for some little time, but that afternoon
she took four or five steps unaided to reach Mrs
Langworthy.
It was undoubtedly because there was a child in the house
that Mr Edward brought home a Christmas tree, for they'd
never had one before. Sam fixed it securely in a large tub
and placed it by the drawing-room window, and Beth helped
Mrs Langworthy trim it with candles and glass baubles.
As always in the past, various relatives came for Christmas
dinner and Sam was on hand to carry old Mr Langworthy
down to the dining room. But although the festivities
upstairs were much the same as in previous years, downstairs
it was a far jollier affair.
Once the dinner was over upstairs, old Mr Langworthy
had been taken back to his room and the master and mistress
were entertaining their guests in the drawing room, the staff
dinner took place in the kitchen.
Mrs Bruce asked Sam, as the only male, to sit at the head
of the table and carve the goose. Mrs Bruce sat at the foot,

9°
with Cook on one side of her and Molly perched up on a
box on a chair on the other. Kathleen and Beth, both
wearing paper hats, sat either side of Sam. Whether it was
the wine they drank, or just that there were three more
people than usual around the table, the laughter started
when Sam fooled around pretending to be a surgeon as he
attacked the goose with the carving knife, and it didn't stop.
Cook didn't live in but had lodgings nearby. She'd been
in service since she was a young girl, always in households
with a big staff. She related hilarious stories about some of
the blunders they made, and how the rest of the staff covered
them up.
Sam told them tales too about people who came into the
bar at the Adelphi Hotel. He could mimic their voices and
mannerisms so well, it was almost as if these people were in
the room.
Mrs Bruce studied Sam as he was talking and noted how
much he'd come out of himself since he became a barman.
He was more confident now, looking directly at whoever he
was talking to, not dropping his eyes the way he used to.
He was a handsome lad, with his blond hair, peachy skin
and brilliant blue eyes, and his easy manner with women
was very attractive. Mrs Bruce thought he'd be irresistible
once he'd put a little muscle on to that lean frame.
But she also noticed how little attention he paid Molly.
After the dinner, as she staggered around the room going
from one person to another, Sam didn't watch her as everyone
else did. He picked her up when she fell over by him
and he offered her small pieces of an orange he was eating,
but he didn't take her on his knee or make a fuss of her.
Mrs Bruce decided that while he certainly wasn't unkind to
her, he was actively avoiding any involvement.
She wondered why this was, and the only logical reason

she could find for it was that he intended to walk out on
Beth and Molly. He probably felt he could do that more
easily if he didn't allow his heart to become engaged with
his baby sister.

Mrs Bruce found herself fretting about this a great deal
as the New Year came in. She told herself that Beth could
be fine, for with or without her brother, the Langworthys
would continue to employ her. Yet whenever Beth played
her fiddle over in her rooms, and she heard the joy and
hope in her music, she couldn't help but feel dismayed that
her life was never going to take her beyond Falkner Square.
Mrs Bruce could already see the shackles binding her here.
Right now it was just because of her duty to provide for
Molly, but the longer she stayed, the bigger she'd feel her
debt to the Langworthys was. By the time Molly was old
enough to work, Mrs Bruce would be old, and Beth would
slip into her shoes. She'd never get the chance to play in
public, to see more of the world. Most likely she'd never
marry either.
Chapter Nine

'Mam, mam,' Kathleen screeched out at six in the morning.
It was early February, bitterly cold and still dark, the master
and mistress asleep. Mrs Bruce had just gone down to the
kitchen to put the kettle on the stove for tea.
She rushed back upstairs to find Kathleen in the doorway
of old Mr Langworthy's room. Kathleen's first job each
morning as maid was to stir up the fire in his room, and on
seeing the girl's horrified expression Mrs Bruce guessed that
the old man was dead.
'He had his mouth and eyes open,' Kathleen sobbed.
'I asked him if he wanted a cup of tea. But I think he's
dead.'
'Control yourself,' Mrs Bruce said sharply. She was just
going to add that Kathleen should have come down and
told her quietly without waking the master and mistress,
but it was too late - both their bedroom doors opened
simultaneously. Mr Edward was in his long nightshirt and
the mistress was clutching a shawl around her shoulders.
'Is it my father?' Mr Edward asked.
Mrs Bruce nodded and went into the old man's room.
Kathleen had put the oil lamp on the mantelpiece, so there
was enough light to see exactly what she had seen. He was
lying awkwardly, his head right at the edge of the mattress,
as if he'd been struggling to get out of bed.
Mrs Bruce went over to him and found he was indeed
dead. She lifted him back on to the pillow and closed his
eyes and mouth. 'He has passed on then?' Mr Edward asked

from the doorway, his wife standing beside him as if they
were both afraid to come in.
'I'm afraid so,' Mrs Bruce said, straightening up the bedclothes.
'I am so sorry. But you two must go back to bed or
you'll catch your death of cold. I'll get Kathleen to take a
note round for the doctor.'

When Beth came over to the house with Molly at nine that
morning, she found Mrs Bruce, Cook and Kathleen sitting
at the kitchen table looking very woebegone.
Mrs Bruce explained what had happened, and said that
the doctor was up with the Langworthys now signing the
old man's death certificate. 'It is for the best really,' she
sighed. 'He had no real life any more, and the mistress will
be spared all that hard work. But just the same, it's hard to
see him go.'
'His eyes made me think of a fish, so they did,' Kathleen
blurted out. 'And I touched his hand and it was cold as ice.'

'That's enough now, Kathleen,' Mrs Bruce said sternly.
'I know it was a shock to find him but we must all show
respect for him and support the master and mistress.'
Beth's eyes filled with tears. She had been scared of the
old man when she was first asked to sit with him. His face
was distorted because he was paralysed all down one side
and he was so thin that he looked almost skeletal. When he
tried to speak his mouth was all over the place and the
sounds that came out were unintelligible and frightening.
But she had grown used to it and after she'd read to him a
few times she began to understand what he was trying to
say. He could convey pleasure with his eyes, irritation with
a wave of his good hand, and sometimes she could make
out real words in his grunts, and if she repeated them to
him he would nod.

She sensed his delight when she came to see him, knew
when he was enjoying a story, and the more time she spent
with him, the more she felt for him. She thought it must be
the worst thing in the world to have a keen mind trapped
in a body you couldn't control, to suffer the humiliation
of being fed and changed like a baby, and to have no real
way of showing that you knew what was going on all
around you.
'Don't cry, Beth,' Mrs Bruce said, picking up Molly who
was looking anxiously up at her big sister. 'He's gone to a
better place, his suffering is over and he can join his wife
again.'

A pall of gloom descended on the house, which seemed to
grow heavier daily as the master and mistress made the
arrangements for the funeral.
For Beth the atmosphere was all too familiar, and on top
of disturbing reminders of her parents' deaths and funerals,
there was the niggling worry of what might become of her
now. Without all the old man's laundry there wasn't going
to be a lot for her to do. Mrs Bruce, Cook and Kathleen
ran the house like clockwork between them. Would Mr
Edward want to pay wages for someone he no longer
needed?
Beth's seventeenth and Sam's eighteenth birthdays came
and went that week without celebration. Beth was kept busy
helping Cook prepare cakes and pastries for the funeral
wake, and making minor alterations to the mourning clothes
their mistress had worn when her mother-in-law died.
On the morning of the funeral, Beth woke when it was
still dark, but there was enough light outside from the lamp
at the end of the mews to show it had snowed during the
night. She sat up in bed for a minute or two looking out of

the window. Everything looked beautiful, grime, rubbish
and ugliness hidden under a thick blanket of pristine, sparkling
white. It brought to mind the snow just over a year ago
when Molly had been born. Beth remembered standing at
the kitchen window with the baby in her arms, marvelling
that the back alley and the rooftops beyond had been
miraculously transformed into something magical.
Just a few days later her mother was dead, and rain washed
the snow away. She had looked out of that same window
and seen that everything had become grey, bleak and ugly
again. It had seemed significant at the time, a warning perhaps
that happiness and beauty could only ever be fleeting.
So much had happened since then. Such despair, hurt
and worry, then finally the loss of their home in the fire. Yet
the fire had been fortuitous in as much as they came here
to live and found a measure of security and happiness again.
Both she and Sam had been forced to grow up fast, but
perhaps the most important thing Beth had learned was that
she couldn't count on anything. Not on the Langworthys'
kindness continuing, nor that this job and home would last
for as long as she needed it. She couldn't even rely on Sam
staying with her for ever.
The only thing she could be absolutely certain about was
her own self. But that was a lonely, chilling thought.

Sam wasn't expected to attend the funeral because the only
time he'd met the old man was at Christmas when he'd
carried him down to the dining room. But he had to go to
work, so Beth put a shawl around her shoulders and crept
into the living room to light the oil lamp, stir up the fire in
the stove and put the kettle on.
Sam looked so peaceful and untroubled, curled up in the
narrow truckle bed. It hadn't occurred to him yet that old

Mr Langwofthy's death might bring them more trouble, and
she was reluctant to air her fears because he'd seemed so
happy since he began working at the Adelphi.
'Time to get up, Sam,' she said softly, and shook his arm.
He opened his eyes and yawned. 'Already! It feels as if
I've only been in here an hour or two.'
'It's six o'clock and it's been snowing,' Beth said, struck
by how handsome he was becoming. His face had filled out,
he'd grown a little moustache, and his long eyelashes drew
attention to his lovely blue eyes. She felt a little pang in her
heart that before long he would find a sweetheart and she'd
have to take second place.
He smiled and leapt out of bed, rushing over to the
window like a child. Wearing just his woolly combinations
he looked slightly ridiculous. 'I love snow,' he said, turning
to grin at her. 'In parts of America it comes in November
and lasts right through till spring.'
'I can't think of anything worse,' Beth said archly, kneeling
down to pull out the ash box under the stove. That wasn't
true - she loved snow as much as he did and some of her
best childhood memories were of going tobogganing with
him -- but she was tired of his constant references to
America. 'The water in the kettle should be warm enough
for you to wash and shave. Your clean shirt is hanging on
the bedroom door.'
¦You're becoming like an old maid,' he retorted.

id
Beth, Kathleen and Cook could only find room to stand at
the back of St Bride's, for they had been last in the procession
of mourners following the six carriages taking family
members to the church, and now all the pews were full.
With the thick snow as a backdrop for the black plumed
horses and the coffin banked high with flowers, it had been

an impressive sight. Beth had expected that the snow would
deter a great many people, but it looked as if half of Liverpool's
population was there.
Once the first hymn, 'Abide with Me', had been sung and
the prayers had begun, Beth's thoughts wandered to Sam's
remark earlier that morning. She supposed she had become
like an old maid. Everything she did, or even thought about,
these days was centred round Molly or the Langworthys.
She didn't care anything for how she looked, her clothes
were hand-me-downs, she didn't even go and look in shop
windows any more, not just because she couldn't afford to
buy anything, but because she had nowhere to go to wear
such things.
Before her father died she spent a great deal of time
indulging in romantic daydreams, but she never did now.
There was no point: she was never going to go to balls and
parties or drive around in a carriage and pair wearing a fur
coat and diamonds. Even the more humble dreams that
Miss Clarkson had prompted, training to be a teacher, a
nurse or working in a shop, were ruled out now because she
had to take care of Molly.
In truth the only time she ever escaped into fantasy was
when she played the fiddle. Alone in the coach house she
could imagine she was wearing a beautiful, brightly coloured
silk dress, with glittery pins in her hair and pretty shoes on
her feet. For an hour or so she could float with the music,
all responsibilities falling away.
As Reverend Bloom began to speak about Mr Langworthy,
Beth came out of her reverie.
'Theodore Arthur Langworthy wasn't born with a silver
spoon in his mouth,' he said. 'His father was a poor Yorkshire farmer, and he expected his eldest son would follow
in his footsteps. But young Theodore had other plans.'

Beth had known nothing about Mr Langworthy's background,
not even that his name was Theodore, and it was
difficult to imagine the bedridden old man as anything but
sick and frail.
'Already fascinated by machinery, he ran off to Liverpool
where he got himself an apprenticeship as an engineer,'
Reverend Bloom went on. 'He was just twenty-two when
he designed and made a water pump in a shed at the back
of his lodgings. Ten years on he had fifty men working for
him and exported his pumps all over the world. Later he
diversified into making steam engines for ships, and Lang worthy Engineering became one of Liverpool's biggest
employers.'
Reverend Bloom's eyes scanned the congregation. 'Many
of you here today owe your present prosperity to him for
he took you on when you were young lads, showed a fatherly
interest in you and trained you well. Others of you connected
with charitable institutions will remember how he championed
your causes and made generous donations to keep
them going.'

Maybe it was because Mr Langworthy had followed his
dream that Beth found herself drifting off again in thoughts
of Sam. She had hoped that when he made new friends at
the Adelphi he would lose interest in America. But he hadn't.
He pored over maps, read books and articles in magazines
and saved every spare penny to go.
Until now Beth had been inclined to view Sam's passion to
emigrate as merely adventuring, but it suddenly occurred
to her that it wasn't so different to Mr Langworthy wanting
to be an engineer. If he hadn't been bold enough to defy his father and strike out for what he really wanted, many of
the people here today wouldn't have had work, charities

would have been poorer, and who would have made those
water pumps and steam engines he sent all over the world?
Maybe Sam's desire to go to America wasn't going to
benefit anyone else, but on the other hand if he didn't go,
he might become bitter and end up blaming her. Beth was
afraid of being left here alone with Molly, especially now
when the future was so uncertain, but she thought she
was more fearful of losing her brother's affection by holding
him back.

At five that afternoon Beth was washing up in the kitchen
while Cook put leftover food away in the pantry, when she
heard Mrs Langworthy saying goodbye to the last of the
guests at the front door. Even from some distance she could
hear the weariness in her mistress's voice and feel the strain
she had been under all day as she tried to hold her emotions
in check.
The front door closed. Beth heard Mrs Langworthy asking
Mrs Bruce and Kathleen to clear away the last of the glasses
and food in the dining room, then a few minutes later she
came down the stairs to the basement.
She looked pale and wan in her black dress, but she
smiled at Beth and Cook. 'I just wanted to thank you for
doing so much today,' she said.
Cook looked up from putting away some leftover cakes.
'We were glad to,' she said. 'But you look very tired, mam.
Can I get you anything?'
The mistress sighed and put her hand to her forehead as
if it hurt. 'No, thank you, Mrs Cray, you've done quite
enough for one day, you go on home. If we want some
supper later, we can find something ourselves.' She turned
to look at Molly who was sitting on a blanket in the corner
playing with a couple of wooden spoons.

'You've been a very good girl today,' she said, bending
down to pick her up. 'I haven't heard a peep from you.'
'She's a little angel,' Cook said fondly. 'I think she knew
we were all too busy to play with her.'
Holding Molly in her arms, Mrs Langworthy slumped
down on a chair and cuddled her. She remained silent, bent
forward with her face against the baby's hair.
Beth suddenly reali2ed her mistress was crying, and in
alarm she moved forward. 'What is it, mam?' she asked.
'Losing my father-in-law has made me realize how empty
my life is,' Mrs Langworthy said, lifting her head a little and
trying to wipe her tears away.
'You're bound to feel a bit adrift for a while,' Beth said
soothingly. 'But you'll be able to do all the things you never
had time for now. Shall I make you a nice cup of tea?'
'This is what I want,' Mrs Langworthy said, holding Molly
against her chest. 'A baby to love. Without a child a woman
has nothing.'
Mrs Cray made a warning face at Beth and a little sipping
movement with her hand as if to explain the mistress had
had one sherry too many.
Beth put her hand comfortingly on the older woman's
shoulder. 'We can all share her,' she said.
'I don't want to share her, I want her all for myself,'
Mrs Langworthy replied and she looked up at Beth with a
pleading expression.
At that moment Mrs Bruce came down the stairs with
some dirty glasses on a tray. 'This is the last of them,' she
said cheerily, unaware she had walked in on something.
'They certainly all ate and drank their fill,' Cook said
loudly, clearly trying to break the tense atmosphere. 'Isn't it
time you took Molly home now, Beth?'
Mrs Langworthy got up abruptly and handed Molly back

IOI
to Beth. 'I'd better get back to my husband,' she said,
her voice trembling. 'He's feeling a bit low too. I'm sure
everything will be fine by tomorrow.'

The mistress didn't get up the following day. Kathleen took
in her early morning tea as usual, and reported back in the
kitchen that she was feeling poorly.
'Too much sherry,' Cook said with a wink at Beth, but
she kept her voice down so Mrs Bruce wouldn't hear.
Mr Edward was out of sorts too. He snapped at Kathleen
because his breakfast toast was cold, then went into his
study and stayed there instead of going to his office.
'It wouldn't be fitting for him to go back to work today,'
Mrs Bruce said, as if she was trying to justify his actions.
'He'll have to sort out his father's affairs and he must have
dozens of letters to write. But I must say he's taking this
harder than I expected.'
Beth understood why Mrs Bruce was a little perplexed,
for Mr Edward had gone to his office even on the day his
father died, and had seemed perfectiy composed yesterday
at the funeral. It was understandable that Mrs Langworthy
had taken to her bed -- she had after all been run ragged for
over a week arranging everything. But putting together Mr
Edward's uncharacteristic behaviour today, and his wife's
emotional state yesterday, Beth felt sure they'd had a quarrel
last night.
Had she blamed him because she didn't have a child of
her own?

Three days after the funeral, Mrs Langworthy was still in
her bed. Mrs Bruce had been taking up her meals on a tray,
but she only picked at them.
'The doctor said he can't find anything wrong with her,'

Beth heard her saying to Cook. 'He thought it was just
melancholy and that perhaps Mr Edward ought to take her
away for a holiday. But who would want to do that in this
weather?'
It hadn't snowed since the day of the funeral, but the
temperature was so low that the snow was still lying and the
wind was icy. It was so cold in the coach house that Beth
stayed over in the house as long as possible, and she had
been taking Molly into bed with her at night to keep her
warm. Sam had been staying later at the hotel too, perhaps
for the same reasons, so Beth hadn't even had an opportunity
to speak to him about America.
'Beth, why don't you go up and see her?' Mrs Bruce suggested.
'Take Molly with you, I'm sure that will cheer her up.'
It was mid-afternoon, and as there was no more work
Beth could find that would give her an excuse to remain in
the house, and it was far too cold to go out anywhere, she
was only too glad to agree.
Mrs Langworthy was lying back listlessly on the pillows,
not even reading, but when she saw Beth and Molly her face
lit up. 'What a nice surprise. I was just thinking about Molly.
Let her come on the bed with me,' she said, patting the
coverlet.
Beth lifted her on and pulled up a chair for herself by the
bed. Molly bounced around, then made the mistress laugh
by playing peekaboo with her with the blanket.
'What is wrong, mam?' Beth asked after chatting about
Molly for a little while. 'Do you hurt anywhere? Have you
been sick?'
'No, nothing like that,' Mrs Langworthy replied, and
looked down fondly at Molly who was now snuggled up
beside her as if intending to go to sleep. 'I just feel weary
with the pointlessness of my life.'

'My mother said something like that to me once,' Beth
said thoughtfully. 'I was a bit hurt at the time, but I suppose
she meant just cooking and cleaning all day.'
'Women do get weary.' Mrs Langworthy sighed. 'I know
I should be counting my blessings, I've got a lovely home
and a kind husband, but you see, I always counted on having
children, and now it doesn't seem as if I'm ever going to be
blessed with any. I didn't let myself think about it too much
when my father-in-law was alive, I had too much to do. But
now I can't stop thinking about it. I feel so sad.'
Beth felt a little uncomfortable hearing this. To her Mrs
Langworthy had a perfect life, and she thought she ought
to go down to some of the squalid courts in the Scotland
district of Liverpool and see how life was for the women
there.
Perhaps her mistress picked up her thoughts because she
reached out and put her hand over Beth's. 'I'm sorry, my
dear, I was forgetting how much sadness you've had in your
young life. Whatever must you think of me?'
'I think of you as the very nicest, kindest person in the
world,' Beth replied truthfully. 'You took us in when we had
no one else to turn to. I'll always be so grateful for that.'
'You've more than repaid me,' Mrs Langworthy said. 'But
tell me, Beth, don't you ever feel aggrieved that you were
burdened with Molly?'
Beth looked down at her sister and smiled because she'd
fallen asleep with her thumb in her mouth. 'I haven't ever
seen her as a burden,' she said. 'Maybe I'm tied, I have to
think about what's right for her, instead of me, but I don't
feel aggrieved about it.'
'That's a very selfless attitude,' Mrs Langworthy said. 'But
tell me, have you and Sam had any more thoughts about
going to America?'

Beth's heart sank, sure that this was Mrs Langworthy's
way of getting around to telling her she was no longer
needed. 'It's never out of Sam's thoughts,' she said carefully.
'But since Mr Langworthy died, I have been rather more
troubled about our position here. With so much less laundry,
you won't be needing me any more.'
'Not need you!' Her mistress looked shocked. 'Of course
I'll still need you. You didn't surely think I would put you
out?'
'You mean I can stay on with Molly?'
'Of course, my dear. It never even crossed my mind to
dismiss you. You are invaluable -- I know you have always
done jobs that weren't really yours.'
'Thank you so much, mam, I was so scared of what might
become of us,' Beth admitted. 'And it will make it so much
easier for me to let Sam go to America on his own. You
see, I'd come to the conclusion that was the right thing to
do. Then maybe in a few years' time, when he's settled,
Molly and I could join him there.'
'But you could go with him now if you left Molly with us.'
Beth looked hard at her mistress, a little puzzled by what
she'd said.
'I couldn't do that,' she said. 'It's not as if I could be back
in just a couple of weeks.'
'I didn't mean just minding her for a few weeks,' Mrs
Langworthy said, looking intently at Beth. 'I meant permanendy.'

Beth was so shocked her mouth fell open. 'Permanendy?'
'Don't look so starded, Beth! Surely you can see this is
the best possible solution for you and Sam? My husband
and I would love her as our own, she'd live in this lovely
house, go to the best schools and never want for anything.'
Beth was scandalized. 'But she's my flesh and blood!'

'But that's all the more reason to let us ensure she has a
good life,' Mrs Langworthy said, two bright red spots of
colour appearing on her cheeks as if she were feverish.
'When I was a girl I knew several big families that allowed
one or two of their children to go and live with a wealthier
relative. It was common practice.'
Beth also knew people who had done this. 'But you aren't
a relative,' she pointed out. 'I couldn't let Molly grow up
thinking I gave her away!'
'I wasn't for one moment suggesting that you sever all
connection with her.' Mrs Langworthy looked affronted.
'You could write to her, come back and visit her. I would
tell her I was her guardian, I would never claim to be her
mother. She could call me Aunt Ruth.'
Beth felt as if someone had opened a trapdoor beneath
her feet and she was falling into space. She knew the Langworthys
could give her little sister everything a child could
want or need, but for almost fourteen months Molly had,
to all intents and purposes, become Beth's own baby, and
her instinct was to fight tooth and nail for her.
She reached out and ran one finger down Molly's little
face, suddenly afraid Mrs Langworthy had the power to take
her even if she and Sam refused their permission.
'Think about it long and hard, Beth,' Mrs Langworthy
said softly, reaching out and touching her arm. 'I know I've
shocked you and perhaps you even feel that I'm insulting
you by suggesting this. But you must believe me when I say
that no one could have done a better job of rearing Molly
so far, especially as you are so young.'
'I couldn't let you have her,' Beth said fiercely. 'I love her
too much.'
'I know you love her, but don't dismiss my offer out of
hand,' the older woman said. 'Think what it could mean to

you. You'd be free as a bird to go with Sam. Your life could
be your own again, you could do what you want to do. But
you'll still be Molly's sister, nothing and no one could take
that from you.'
Beth couldn't bear to hear any more. She gathered the
sleeping child up into her arms and backed towards the
door, apologizing as she went.

Sam arrived home at half past eight. Normally it was gone
midnight before he got home, but it had been so quiet in
the Adelphi Hotel that the bar manager had told him to go
early. When he saw the windows glowing from the lamp, he
was pleased because that meant he and Beth could have a
chat. She was normally fast asleep when he got in.
But as soon as he opened the door and saw her sitting
hunched up in front of the fire, a blanket around her shoulders,
he knew something was wrong.
What's happened?' he asked. His hands and feet were
like blocks of ice and he went over to the stove to warm
them. 'They haven't told you they don't need you any more?'
Beth had raised that anxiety just last Sunday, but Sam
didn't believe they would dispense with her, for at Christmas
he'd sensed how fond both Mr and Mrs Langworthy had
become of her.
'Mrs Langworthy wants us to give Molly to her,' she
blurted out, and promptly burst into tears.
Sam knelt on the floor in front of her and prompted her
till she eventually told him exactly what had been said.
'Is that so bad?' he asked when she'd finished. 'She's right,
it would be good for Molly.'
'You've never cared about her,' Beth accused him bitterly.
'If you'd had your way she'd have gone to the Foundling
I lome.'

'Maybe I wasn't too nice about her when she was born,'
Sam agreed, blushing with shame. 'I'm sorry for that now.
But she could have a much better life with them than she
could with us. We could get a passage to America, have a
high old time. Think how marvellous that would be!'
'I don't want a high old time, I want Molly.' Beth began
to cry and covered her face with her hands. 'I'd made up
my mind to tell you to go alone. I know it isn't fair of me
to hold you back. So you go and I'll keep her.'
Sam said nothing for a while, just knelt at Beth's feet
while she cried into her hands. He did often think about
their mother's infidelity, and felt bitter that his father took
his own life because of it, but he didn't feel any resentment
towards Molly any longer.
How could he? She was the sweetest little thing; in fact
he was sure that if he had been with her constantly as Beth
had, he'd be just as indignant and horrified at this suggestion
as his sister was.
As it was, he was able to view the situation more dispassionately.
There was no doubt the Langworthys could
give Molly the best of upbringings. They were wealthy,
influential people, but they had kind hearts too. But for their
generosity in giving him and Beth a home after the fire, they
could well have been forced to live in a slum, and Molly
wouldn't be the healthy, happy baby she was.
Maybe he was thinking of himself to some extent. It
would be wonderful to sail for America with Beth, unfettered
by a small child. They could go where they wanted to,
be free to do as they pleased, and with both of them able
to work they could accumulate far more money.
Above all else he wanted Beth to have a good life, a loving
husband and children of her own. But she wasn't going to
get that with Molly in tow, for people would always think she

was Beth's illegitimate child. Beth could hope for nothing
more than being a servant, and she deserved better than that.
But how could he convince his sister that he wasn't just
thinking of himself?
'I could go to America, then send for you once I'm
settled,' he said. 'But I don't want to go without you, Beth.
And now this has come up with the Langworthys, how are
they going to be with us if we turn them down? What if
they ask us to leave? What then?'
'They won't do that,' Beth said quickly, but she looked
at Sam questioningly. 'Will they?'
'I don't know,' he admitted. 'Mr Edward might feel that
Molly's presence upsets his wife. People do turn nasty when
they don't get what they want.'
Sam decided he would stop at that. Beth knew only too
well that they would never find another place like this to
live. Nor was she likely to find another job where Molly was
welcome. She was intelligent enough to take that into
account when she made her decision.
That night Sam couldn't sleep, for he knew Beth was
lying awake in the next room worrying. They had talked
round and round the subject, and he sensed that Beth knew
in her heart that for Molly, giving her to the Langworthys
was the kindest thing they could do. The events and struggles
of the last year had taught them both how precarious life
could be. They didn't have to stray far from Falkner Square
to see how easy it was to fall into the abyss of poverty.
But Sam was also aware that Beth couldn't be entirely
rational because she loved Molly so much. She wasn't able
to think as he could, of herself, to get excited by the prospect
of freedom and adventure. Or even to believe that maybe
once Molly was grown up she could come out and join them
in America.

And despite all he'd said tonight, and in the past, Sam
had looked in on Molly asleep in the room next door before
he went to bed, and his heart had swelled with affection for
her. He couldn't imagine a day without seeing those big
brown eyes, hearing her merry chuckles and watching her
toddling around the room. He had done his best not to let
his heart become engaged, but he had failed, and it wouldn't
be only Beth who felt the pain of parting.

Beth woke him the following morning as she always did.
Her eyes were red and she was very pale. She handed him a
cup of tea and sat down on the end of his bed.
'Will you come home this afternoon?' she asked.
It was Saturday, and Sam finished work at the shipping
office at noon. Usually he visited friends in the afternoon
and went straight to the Adelphi in the early evening.
'If you want me to,' he said.
'I do. I want you to come over to the house and talk to
Mr Langworthy about Molly,' she said, her voice cracking
with emotion. 'If he really wants this as much as his wife
does, then I think it's best we agree to it.'
A lump came up in Sam's throat, for he knew how much
pain she was in. He couldn't bring himself to offer any
platitudes. 'I'll come straight home,' he said. 'You are so
brave, Beth.'
'It's not brave. Brave would be taking her to America
with us or walking out of here with my nose in the air. But
I got to thinking what Papa would have made of this. I
believe he would have said we should give Molly what is
best for her.'
Sam privately thought that as his father hadn't considered
his own children when he killed himself, he would have had
no views on this situation, but he kept that to himself. 'Yes,

I think he would too.' He nodded. 'But before we agree, we
must get them to promise they tell Molly about us and make
sure she writes to us when she's old enough.'
Beth's eyes filled up with fresh tears. 'I think we should
say it has to be done quickly too. I couldn't bear to have to
wait weeks with this hanging over us.'
'I've got enough for our passages now,' Sam replied. 'But
only just.'
'We'll manage,' Beth said fiercely.


Beth was hoping against hope that when they spoke to
Mr Edward he would tell them that his wife wasn't in her
right mind because she was poorly. But at three o'clock, the
time she'd asked Mrs Bruce to fix for her and Sam to talk
to him, he opened the drawing-room door as they came up
the stairs from the basement and there was a kind of glow
in his eyes.
He didn't have the warmth his wife had; he was starchy
and cool with everyone. Beth knew that was due mostly to
his upbringing and his business responsibilities, but she had
seen him unbend when talking to Molly.
'You want to discuss the proposition my wife put to you?'
he asked.
'Yes, sir,' Beth said, her legs turning to jelly.
'Come on in and sit down,' he said.
The fire was roaring up the chimney and the lamp had been lit as it was such a dark grey day. Mrs Langworthy was
there too, wearing the same black dress she'd worn for the
funeral, but she looked much better than she had the previous
day. She was seated by the fire, and Mr Edward
indicated for Beth and Sam to sit down on the couch
in front of it. He remained standing, his elbow on the
mantelpiece.

'My wife fears you may think she made her suggestion
rashly, without consulting me. But in fact she raised it with
me back at Christmas,' he began.
'And your views at that time?' Sam said archly.

'That Molly was a delightful baby, one I could certainly
care for as my own. But we weren't in a position to discuss
the possibility of it with you, not while my father required
so much care.'
'But just a few days after his death you felt it was appropriate
to tackle Beth on the subject?' Sam said sarcastically.
Mr Edward blushed. 'I was very alarmed when my wife
informed me she'd spoken out so bluntly. It should have
been handled with tact and at a far more appropriate time.'
'Please forgive me for that.' Mrs Langworthy spoke up,
wringing her hands anxiously. 'I'm afraid my affection for
both Molly and Beth made me too impulsive and if I did
offend or even frighten her, then I am so terribly sorry.'
"We do understand that Mrs Langworthy wishes the very
best for Molly,' Sam agreed, looking straight at Mr Edward.
'But what we need to establish today is whether you are
both of the same mind.'
Beth was surprised Sam could be so bold and forthright.
She had been a little afraid he would just allow himself to
be railroaded into agreeing with everything the Langworthys
said.
'Indeed we are,' Mr Edward said firmly. 'I can assure you
both I share my wife's wish to cherish her, protect her and
give her everything we would have given our own child
had we been blessed with one. I have very little previous
experience with small children, I admit, but I find Molly
utterly delightful.'
Beth could only stare at Mr Edward, for she hadn't expected
him to show that degree of warmth or commitment.

'Beth!' Sam looked sharply at his sister. .'Have you anything
to add?'
'If we let her stay with you, will you promise that you will
write and let us know how she is, until she's old enough to
write herself?' she asked, her voice shaking with emotion.
¦You have our word on that,' Mr Edward said gravely. 'If
you should come back, you will be welcome to come and
see her too. All that I ask is that you allow us to become
her legal guardians, to take our name. We need that security.'
Beth and Sam exchanged glances, realizing that in the
eyes of the law this would mean they were relinquishing
their rights to their sister.
'No child could be more wanted,' Mrs Langworthy
pleaded. 'She will have us, Mrs Bruce, Kathleen, and Cook
too. It will be a stable, happy home full of love. We know
what a wrench this will be for you both, but by putting her
in our care you will be safeguarding her future.'
Sam looked to Beth and she nodded. 'When she's older
you must tell her that we didn't do this easily, only because
we believed it to be the best for her,' Sam said tremulously.
'We certainly will, my dears.' Mrs Langworthy got up and
took Beth's hands, drawing her up from her chair to embrace
her. We won't let her forget you. And we promise we will
never give you cause to regret today's decision.'
Mr Edward moved closer and cleared his throat before
speaking. 'Can I just say how much we will miss you, Beth?
You have brought light and colour into this house.' He
paused for a moment, looking at Sam, then back at Beth. 'I
believe you will both do well in America, but if it isn't to
your liking, return and come back to us. We will always have
room in our hearts and home for you.'
Beth heard the sincerity in his voice and she felt deeply
touched.

'Thank you, sir,' she whispered, tears springing into her
eyes. 'I think it best that we leave as soon as possible. It will
be easier for everyone that way.'
Chapter Ten

A stiff north-easterly wind forced the passengers on the
decks of the Majestic to clutch at their hats as they waved
goodbye to their friends and relatives. The choppy sea and
the sky were a sullen dark grey, but the red-jacketed bandsmen
playing spiritedly on the quay and the streamers being
hurled at the ship created a carnival atmosphere despite the
bleak March day.
Mrs Bruce, Kathleen and Mr Edward had moved back
from the pressing crowd to the shelter of a shed but they
were still waving frantically, the green feather in Kathleen's
hat bobbing in the wind.
'They should go now. They'll catch their death of cold,'
Beth shouted to Sam. What with the wind, the band and
people shouting all around her, she could barely hear herself
think.
What she really meant was that she couldn't bear to look
at them for another moment, for they represented all she
was unwilling to give up. She was of course forcing a gay
smile, but now she was chilled to the bone she was finding
it increasingly hard to pretend joy and excitement. She
wanted to be back in the warm kitchen of Falkner Square
with Molly on her lap. She didn't want to leave Liverpool.
But she couldn't say any of that to Sam for he was
genuinely excited enough for both of them. His cheeks and
nose had turned red with the cold, but his wide smile said
that his long-awaited dream had at last begun.
'There's Sally!' he exclaimed jubilantly, pointing down

iM
into the waving crowd. 'She's there by the crane! The one
in a red cloak. I didn't think she cared enough to come and
see me off.'
Seeing the girl her brother had mentioned so many times in the last couple of weeks was a distraction from Beth's
misery. Sam had been introduced to the burlesque dancer
by one of his friends at the Adelphi. Even from a distance
of some two hundred feet, Beth could see she was everything
she'd expected -- a raven-haired, curvy floozy with paint on
her face.
Since he'd met her, Sam had been coming home at three
in the morning stinking of her cheap scent and his lips
swollen from kissing. Beth had sometimes secretly hoped
he'd find Sally's attractions greater than those of America
and give up his plans.
'Do you love her?' Beth asked, forced to shout again.
He turned to her and smiled wickedly. 'I did while I was
with her, but there'll be scores of girls like her in New York.'
Beth realized by the sparkle in his eyes he'd done far
more than just kiss the girl, and she hoped he hadn't left
her carrying his child. She thought she ought to reprove
him, but as she was a little envious that he'd experienced
that mysterious thing their mother had called passion, she
didn't know what to say.
Clanging bells and a booming order that anyone not
sailing was to leave the ship immediately prevented any
comment, but as Beth watched her brother waving and
blowing kisses she noted that a couple of elegandy dressed
young ladies further along the ship's rail were also studying
him. It occurred to her that her handsome brother was very
likely to become the object of attention for many women
on this voyage.
The whole ship was draped in paper streamers now and

the excitement was mounting palpably as the crew began to
haul in the gangways and prepare to cast off. There were
just as many people crying on deck as there were on the
quay. In the past Beth had watched this scene dozens of
times, but she'd only ever been aware of the sorrow among
those left behind. It had never occurred to her that anyone
on the ships could be anything but happy to go. She knew
better now, for her heart felt as if it was being torn out at
leaving Molly behind, and she realized that many of her
fellow passengers must be leaving whole families, not just
one little girl, and perhaps, like her, they feared they'd never
see them again.
She had got up extra early this morning and crept into
the house to watch Molly sleeping. Mrs Langworthy had
had her father-in-law's bedroom stripped and redecorated
just as soon as Beth had agreed Molly could stay with her.
The room was finished a week ago and it was fit for a
princess, with pink roses on the wallpaper, a proper cot and
a new apple-green rug with white fringes. Mrs Langworthy
had suggested Molly slept in it as soon as it was ready,
thinking it would be less of a shock to her after Beth had
left. But Molly hadn't seemed the slightest bit daunted by
her new surroundings, and slept like a top from the first
night.
Since then Mr Edward had been out and bought her
many toys, including building bricks, a furry dog on wheels
to push around and a rocking horse. Beth knew she ought
to be glad he was showing his delight at becoming her
sister's guardian, yet somehow each new acquisition made
her feel more dejected and inadequate.
That morning Beth had sat in the room with just the
palest of early-morning light to see her sister by. She had
silently worshipped her, drinking in her long eyelashes on

JI7
her plump, rosy cheeks, her dark curls, and the way her first
finger curled around her nose as she sucked her thumb. Her
head told her she was doing the right thing for Molly, that
her future would be immeasurably better with her Uncle
Edward and Aunt Ruth, but she still felt like a condemned
woman waiting for her life to expire.
Even worse was the final leave-taking. Mrs Langworthy
,held Molly in her arms at the front door as they got into the
carriage with Mr Edward, Mrs Bruce and Kathleen. As the
carriage rumbled away down the street, Beth had to steel
herself from jumping out to snatch Molly back.

Down on the quay a woman was wailing loudly. She was
old, perhaps a grandmother, too old to go with her family.
She held her arms outstretched, tears streaming down her
wrinkled face, as if begging them not to leave her, and Beth
had to turn her face away as the sight was too tragic to bear.
The gangways were stowed away, sailors cast off, then
coiled the ropes away, and suddenly the gap between ship
and shore widened. The band struck up a jolly sea shanty, the
last of the paper streamers were thrown, and in a last-ditch
attempt to show Mr Edward she was happy to be going,
Beth took off her new straw hat and waved it, even though
tears were rolling down her cheeks.
'You'll feel better soon,' Sam said, putting his arm around
her waist. 'Molly will be happy with the Langworthys. You've
still got me, and so much adventure to come. It's time too
that you had some fun.'
Beth's only reply was to lean her head against his shoulder.
It helped to know he hadn't been fooled by her pretended
delight, and understood her pain. But it was so long since
she'd had any fun, she wasn't sure she'd even recognize it
when it came again.

I

Just this morning Mrs Bruce had said that she believed
true happiness came to those who actively sought to bring
it to others through kindness and thoughtfulness. She said
Beth must look upon everyone on the ship as potential
friends, not strangers, and to remember that they were all
as apprehensive about what lay in wait for them in America
as she and Sam were.
The ship was gaining speed, the faces of those on the
dockside a pale blur. There was no turning back now, so
she had to be brave and think of how lucky they were to be
getting this chance to shake off all the sadness of the past
and build a new future. As Sam had so righdy said, there
was so much adventure to come.
'Let's go below decks and meet the people we're going
to be sailing with,' she suggested more brightly than she felt.
'And don't you go off with another Sally, leaving me on my
own!'
Sam chuckled and gave her a hug. 'That's better, sis,' he
said. 'And don't you worry, I'm not going to leave you. There's too many men casting sly looks at you. I won't let
you out of my sight.'

The steerage passengers were housed right down in the
bowels of the ship, and as if that didn't make their humble
position clear enough, there were metal grids preventing
them from slipping into the first- and second-class areas.
As Beth and Sam made their way down the companionways,
they caught glimpses of the rarefied world beyond the
grids. Soft carpets and polished wood cabin doors with brass
fittings; white-jacketed stewards carrying trays of drinks to
the fortunate occupants, and well-scrubbed and beautifully
attired children trying to escape from the clutches of their
nursemaids.

As they reached the lower levels, the doors and floors
became metal, the paintwork scuffed and grimy. Here there
were people elbowing their way through the narrow corridors,
their anxious and sometimes angry faces relaying the
message that no steward was going to arrive down here with
a cup of tea, a blanket for a child or even words of reassurance.
The noise of the engines almost drowned out the
sounds of babies crying and frantic mothers trying to round
up their children, and Beth's heart sank even further.
The single men were housed forward, single women in
the stern, with families in the middle section. Sam had been
making jokes for days about what steerage actually meant.
Some said it was so called because it was where the steering
mechanism was housed, but Sam was of the opinion it
referred to steers, or catde, for that was how they'd travel.
But Beth, who had seen illustrations of how steerage passengers
fared in the days of sailing ships, with four or five
people to one bunk and the only sanitation a bucket, was
relieved to see that the bunks were canvas, designed to be
stowed away during the day to make more room, and that
there were lavatories and washrooms in each section.
It was claustrophobic though, and very gloomy, and looking
around her at her fellow passengers' pinched faces and
shabby attire, she was glad she'd acted on Mrs Bruce's advice
and sewn their money into their clothes, for instinct told
her it wouldn't be wise to trust anyone.
Yesterday Mr Edward had given them thirty pounds; he
said they were to look on it as an emergency fund for use if
they couldn't get work immediately. This was on top of all
the other things he and his wife had given them - luggage,
two warm quilts, towels and items of clothing - and they
thanked him with moist eyes.
As Sam put Beth's valise down in the women's section a

stern-faced older woman in a grey dress advanced on them.
'Out of here, young man,' she said sharply.
'I was just getting my sister settled in,' he retorted.
'She'll be fine in my care,' the woman replied. 'I am Miss
Giles, the matron. I do not allow single women to fraternize
with the opposite sex. If you wish to see your sister during
the voyage you must arrange to meet on deck.'
Sam looked incredulous and a couple of pretty young
Irish girls began giggling.
'I'll meet you again in an hour,' Beth said, anxious not to
get on the wrong side of Miss Giles. 'Don't worry, I'll be
fine.'

The realization that almost everyone was as apprehensive
and scared as she was made Beth feel a little better. There
were around twenty-six other girls in her section and the
vast majority were under twenty, like her. Most were travelling
with their parents and younger siblings and hated being
separated from them, though there were four like Beth with
older brothers. The remainder were either with a sister or a
friend, and only one woman, one of the oldest, was entirely
alone; she said she was joining her fiance in New York.
One of the many gifts Mrs Langworthy had given Beth
was a new brown coat with a fur collar. She had almost new
shiny buttoned boots and a brown wool travelling dress,
and in comparison to the other women she looked rich.
They clutched worn-looking shawls around thin shoulders,
they had holes in their boots and patched dresses. Most
were Irish, pale and poorly nourished, yet for all that they
had a look of eager expectancy in their eyes, and spoke of
their destination with such hope and fervour that Beth felt
ashamed for being so reluctant.
Bridie and Maria, the two Irish girls who had been so

amused by Sam, suggested she claimed the bed next to
theirs. Their lilting voices full of warmth and friendliness
reminded Beth of Kathleen and acted as a salve to her
bruised heart.
'We can meet with the single men in the family quarters,' Maria said with a hint of mischief in her eyes. 'My uncle
emigrated last year and he wrote home to say there was
dancing and singing in the evenings. Miss Giles is only here
to make sure no men come into this room, so she is, but
she can't stop us having fun outside it.'
'Have you left your sweetheart behind?' Bridie asked.
You have the red-eyed look of a girl who's been crying for
days.'
All at once Beth found herself confiding in them about
Molly, crying again as she described how hard it was to leave
her. Maria put her arms around her and drew her head down
on to her skinny shoulder. 'Sure, and don't we know how
hard that is! When I said goodbye to Mammy and the little
ones I thought my heart would break. But we're on our way to somewhere better, Beth. We'll do well there and before
long we'll get them to join us. You can do the same for
Molly.'

By the following morning they were out in the Atlantic and
as the sea became rougher many people began to suffer
from seasickness. Beth felt well, but knowing the sound of
retching and the smell of vomit in the stuffy quarters were
likely to make her ill too, she went up on deck.
It was very cold and windy, but after the constant noise
of the ship's engines and people shouting to one another
over it below decks, it was good to have quiet and solitude. Beyond the railings which separated the steerage passengers'
small part of the deck from the remainder, a couple of


stewards were exercising dogs, and one lone man in a heavy
overcoat and a fur hat with ear-flaps was walking briskly up
and down the deck.
Beth stood at the ship's rail staring out at the huge expanse
of empty grey sea before her stretching to infinity and smiled
at the memory of the previous evening.
She had gone with Bridie and Maria into the family area
to be introduced to some of the people they had come over
from Ireland with. At first she had been repulsed because
almost everyone was very shabby and rather dirty, and they
all seemed to have so many children. They made her think
of the Irish back in Liverpool who lived in such terrible
squalor in the slum courts. Her parents had brought her up
to think that the men were good-for-nothings, always drunk
and fighting, and that their women bred like rabbits and
neglected their offspring.
But she was soon to see that however poor these people
were, and whatever conditions they'd lived in back in Ireland
and Liverpool, they loved their children and wanted a better
life for them. She found it impossible to remain aloof when
she was greeted with such warmth and interest, and when
all about her were such gaiety and optimism. One man
with a beautiful tenor voice began to sing, and before long
everyone was joining in. An old man got out his fiddle and
two little girls were encouraged to show off their Irish
dancing talents.
It turned into a real party when Sam and some of the
other single men came in to join them. Drink was being
passed around, but most were just drunk on sheer delight
to be on their way to America. The fiddler broke into a jig
and to Beth's surprise Sam began the dancing by catching
hold of Maria's hands and urging her up on to her feet. Beth
would have been content to sit and watch, but as others


began to get up and dance, the jig became faster and soon
her feet were tapping. When a young man with red hair and
an even redder face held out his hand to her, she was only
too happy to be his partner.
It was not the kind of sedate dancing she'd learned at
school but an outpouring of excess energy and exuberance.
As one tune ended, another man would claim her. It felt
good to be twirled about with so much energy. Her partners
had rough, callused hands, their hobnailed boots beat a
tattoo on the wooden floor and sweat poured down their
faces, but even if they were not the sort of men she'd always
imagined would lead her at her first dance, she felt happy.
Later, back in the single women's cabin, Beth lay in her
canvas bed listening to the other girls whispering excitedly
about the young men they'd met tonight, and she felt proud
that her brother appeared to be the one they all admired
most. She could still hear the sound of the old man's fiddle
ringing in her ears, such joyful, wild music, as if he was
pouring every experience of his life into it. She had never
heard the instrument played quite that way before, and she
felt inspired to emulate him.
She put out her arm and groped around under her bed
until her fingers met the worn black case with its peeling
leather. Just touching it was enough. Her talisman for good
fortune.

'Huge, ain't it?'
Beth was startied by the male voice behind her on the
deck, and turned to see it was one of the lads she'd danced
with fleetingly last night; she recognized him by the scar on
his right cheek. It was the scar, which looked as if it had
been made with a knife, that had made her wary of him.
He was tall and whip-thin, the mop of black hair she

remembered thinking needed a wash and a cut now hidden
beneath a cap. Although he was probably a couple of years
older than her, his shabby, too large jacket and moleskin
trousers gave him the look of a young street urchin.
'So huge you could get scared by it,' she replied. 'It makes
me feel very small.'
'They say it's that cold if you fell in you'd die of shock in
two minutes,' he said.
'That's a cheerful thought!' she said with some sarcasm.
'Why don't you try it? I'll check if they're right.'
He laughed. 'You've got an acid tongue. Just like me ma.'

'Is that why you're going to America, to get away from
her?'
'In a way, s'pose I am,' he said with a grin. 'Not to
mention Pa, with his drinkin' an' all. Why are you going?'
'Same as most of us,' she shrugged. 'To seek my fortune;
for the adventure.'
¦You're Sam Bolton's sister, ain't yer?' he said.
Beth nodded. 'I'm Beth Bolton. And you?'
'Jack Child,' he said, and gingerly held out his hand.
'Pleased to meet you.'
She shook his hand briefly. 'Where are you from? That's
not an Irish or a Liverpool accent.'
'Down south, from the East End of London. I came to
Liverpool a year ago to get on a ship for America, but I
had my money stolen and so I had to find work until I had
enough to get another ticket.'
'That was bad luck,' she said, warming to him a little
because he had soft brown eyes and an engaging, lopsided
grin.
'It's made me more cagey,' he said thoughtfully, leaning
on the rail beside her. 'But that's a good thing. They say
New York is full of rogues and they prey on us immigrants.'

'Really?'
He nodded sagely. 'A pal of mine went six months ago.
He wrote and said men lie in wait outside the immigration
hall looking for suckers to fleece. They offer to get you work
and a place to live, but once you've handed over some
money they scarper.'
Sam had told Beth that men down in the docks in Liverpool
sold forged tickets for passages on ships that didn't
exist; they promised to take foreigners to hotels and then
stole their luggage. She supposed such things went on everywhere
in the world.
'We'll just have to be on our guard then.' She shrugged.
'You and Sam will make good,' Jack said. 'You've both
got something about you.'
'And what's that?' Beth asked, amused by the way he
was studying her. By no stretch of the imagination was he
handsome -- he had a raw complexion and his features
looked too big for his face. His accent, a mixture of London
and Liverpool, sounded peculiar, yet there was something
very likable about him.
He looked a bit sheepish. 'Well, Sam, he's 'andsome and
got that cock-o'-the-walk way about him. You're classy and
beautiful.'
'Well, thank you, Jack.' She smiled. 'I just hope when
I go looking for work they think so too.'
They stayed at the rail talking for some time. Jack told
her that while he'd been in Liverpool he'd worked for a
carter and had lodged with a family in Leeds Street. 'They
was worse than me own,' he laughed. 'Rough as they come
and always fighting and drinking. Glad to get out of there I
was. But they took me in when I didn't have a penny to me
name, not many would do that.'
Beth in turn told him about her parents dying and how

she'd left Molly behind. 'You did the right thing by her,' he
said with a look of real understanding. 'I was lookin' at some
of the folks down there last night with all their little 'uns
and wonderin' 'ow on earth they thinks they can get a start
in New York. It'll be hard to get a place to live, and if the
men can't get work straight off, how they gonna feed 'em?'
This same thought had been in Beth's mind too. It was
comforting rather than painful to imagine Molly toddling
around the house at Falkner Square, adored by everyone.
Her life would remain constant and secure and she would
always have a warm, clean bed, good food and plenty of
love. Beth thought that if she reminded herself of that each
day, in time she might be able to be truly glad she gave her
to the Langworthys.

The sea became even rougher in the late afternoon and as
the ship bucked and rolled, more and more people became
sick and took to their beds. For most of the day Beth had
felt dutybound to help those affected, washing their faces,
getting them drinks of water and emptying the vomit bowls,
but as the evening progressed and the smell below decks
began to make her feel queasy too, she put on her coat and
went up on deck again for some fresh air.
It was freezing cold up there, and deserted, but she could
hear an orchestra playing in the first-class saloon even above
the noise of the wind and sea.
To hear the music better she walked right down the deck
to the railing which kept the steerage passengers contained
in their section, and seeing a lifejacket locker, she tucked
herself into the side of it to get out of the wind and listen
to the waltz music. In her imagination she was in a pale blue
dress with a satin sash, being twirled around the floor by
one of the ship's officers.

She became so immersed in this happy little fantasy that
she came out of her little shelter to dance alone. But a
sudden burst of louder music and a pool of golden light
spilling out on to the deck alerted her that someone had
come out of the first-class saloon. She slunk back into her
shelter when she saw a man in formal evening dress lighting
a cigarette, but she couldn't resist peeping out to look
at him.
He was tall, slim and dark-haired, and although he
was some forty yards from her, and the light poor, she
thought he seemed jumpy, looking around him in a nervous
manner.
A few minutes later the door opened again and a lady
came out.
She was like a beacon in the dark because of the white
fur stole around her shoulders, her blonde hair and light
coloured, shiny dress. As she raised her hand to greet the
man, her bracelet twinkled brightly, suggesting it was
diamonds.
The couple embraced, and Beth wondered why they
would come out on to a freezing cold deck when they could
have been dancing together in the warm saloon.
The reason became obvious when they began kissing
frantically, for clearly they couldn't do that in front of people.
Beth thought it rather romantic and wondered if they were
engaged and had given their chaperone the slip.
But the man was clearly concerned at them being caught,
for even as he kissed the woman he was maneuvering her
down the deck towards Beth and the shelter of the lifeboat
suspended there.
'I daren't stay more than a minute or two,' the woman
burst out breathlessly, her words carrying clearly on the
wind. 'He's watching me like a hawk.'

'You've got to leave him,' the man said fiercely. 'I want
to kill him each time he paws you.'
Beth suddenly felt very uncomfortable at being a witness
to this clandestine tryst. She wanted to move away, or at
least cough so they knew they weren't entirely alone, but it
was too late, for the couple were only feet from her now,
just the other side of the railing, so close she could smell
the woman's perfume.
Silence made her peep out again. They were kissing so
passionately it made Beth blush. The woman's back was to
her, and the fur stole had slipped down from her shoulders,
revealing the flesh on her shoulders and neck which was
very white and smooth.
Their breathing was heavy, there was a rustling of clothes,
and though Beth couldn't be sure, she thought the man was
touching the woman in an indecent manner.
'I need more than this fumbling, Clarissa,' he sighed. 'I
want to make love to you on a bed, to see you naked beneath
me. Come to my cabin tonight.'
Beth.was burning up with embarrassment now, but if she
moved they would hear her and it would look as if she'd
been purposely spying on them.
Til try,' the woman replied. Til slip Aggie one of my
powders.'
There was more frantic kissing and fumbling, then Beth
heard Clarissa say she really must go, and a second or two
later she heard her heels tapping back along the deck.
The man remained where he was and Beth saw him light
up another cigarette. As she was now frozen to the marrow
she began to sidle away towards the door of the companionway.
But in the darkness she didn't see there was a small
ledge in front of her and she tripped over it, falling down
on to the deck.

'Who's there?' the man barked out.
Beth knew without turning her head that he was just four
or five feet behind her, looking straight at her as she lay
sprawled on the deck, and that only the railing was preventing
him coming over to her.
'Get up and speak to me,' he ordered her.
She was so used to doing what she was told that she
didn't even consider running away, and obeyed him.
'How long have you been there?' he asked.
'A while. I came up because it's so stuffy below.'
She couldn't help but stare at him for he was so handsome,
impeccably dressed and had such a cultured voice.
She guessed he was in his mid-twenties.
Until that moment Sam had been the yardstick she
measured men's looks by, and she'd seen few as handsome
as her brother. But Sam looked almost girlish in comparison
to this man, for his hair was coal black and he had deep-set
eyes, a proud nose and high cheekbones.
'Are you in the habit of spying on other people?' he said
with a sneer.
'Are you in the habit of being rude to people?' she retorted
with some indignation. 'I was here first. You should have
checked to make certain you were alone if you were
intending to do something secret.'
"You're a cheeky minx,' he replied, looking her up and
down. 'Will a florin buy your silence?'
Beth didn't understand that question and just stared at him.
'Five shillings?' he said.
All at once she realized what he meant. Witnessing an
adulterous meeting was shocking enough to her, but to be
offered a bribe not to speak of it was insulting. 'How dare
you assume my silence can only be bought?' she said indignantly.
'I have no interest in you or your lady friend. It

r3°
would have been quite sufficient just to ask that I didn't tell
anyone what I saw.'
He looked slightly chastened. 'I apologize,' he said. 'It's
just that--' He broke off lamely.
Beth felt bolder now. All day she'd been aware that the
ship's company cared little for the comfort or well-being of
their poorer passengers, and having something over someone
from first class made her feel she was evening up the
score. She moved closer to him, right up to the railing. 'That
she's another man's wife?'
He could easily have snapped at her, but he just looked
saddened. 'You are too young to understand,' he said with
a sigh.
'You'd be surprised what I understand,' she retorted,
thinking of her mother's dying confession. 'I know passion
makes people behave recklessly.'
He gave a humourless laugh. 'And what, oh Wise One,
should I do if I love a woman who is married to a man who
makes her utterly miserable?'
Beth was surprised and a little touched by his honesty.
'So why did she marry him?' she asked.
'She was pushed into it by her family,' he replied.
Beth thought about that for a moment. 'Then why doesn't
she just leave him?'
'You surprise me,' he said with a touch of sarcasm. 'I always
thought girls of your class believed in the sanctity of marriage.'
Beth bristled at the mention of her class, and his assumption
that a girl like her couldn't have an open mind. 'As
I see it, there is no sanctity in a marriage of convenience.'
'You sound bitter,' he said, looking at her intently. 'If
you weren't so young I'd think you were speaking from
experience. But what you suggest is impossible anyway; her
husband has her watched.'

'By a servant?' Beth asked. She remembered the woman
had mentioned someone called Aggie.
He nodded.
For reasons she didn't understand, Beth felt drawn into
his problems and wanted to help him. 'She'll be easily distracted
once we get to New York. Maybe your lady should
make plans for then?'
'And what kind of plan would a devious little minx like
you devise?' he said, a faint smile tweaking his lips.
Beth could well understand why the woman Clarissa was
taking such risks for him. It wasn't just his face that was
attractive, he had an easy manner too. 'I think she would
need help from another woman,' she said thoughtfully. 'Her servant wouldn't think to watch her so closely if she was
with a friend.'
'I'll bear that idea in mind,' he said, this time giving her a
beaming smile. 'Shame you aren't in first class too, it could
be you!'
Beth laughed lightly. 'I wish I was in first class. I don't
suppose so many people are seasick there. That was why I
came up here, to get away from it. But I must go now, I'm
frozen.'
'And can I rely on you not to speak of this to anyone?'
he asked, raising one eyebrow questioningly.
'Discretion is my middle name,' she giggled.
"Then, Miss Discretion, I hope we run into one another
again,' he said with a little bow. 'And you must run along
now before you freeze to death.'

The rest of the voyage passed slowly and uneventfully,
without Beth catching sight of the lovers again. As sickness
had descended on so many of the steerage passengers there
were no more nights of dancing, music and revelry, and Beth

filled her days nursing, cleaning and minding the children of
those too ill to take care of their own.
There were many she'd helped who claimed she was an
angel, but to Beth there was nothing extraordinary in taking
care of others; she was used to it. Besides, the light was too
bad to read, it was too cold to go up on deck for more
than ten minutes at a time, and the people she liked most,
Maria and Bridie in particular, were too poorly for fun or
conversation.
Sam would call for her to go up on deck with him several
times during the day, and Jack Child invariably turned up
-too. Beth assumed it was because he had become friends
with Sam, but her brother was quick to point out that she
was the attraction.
Beth didn't really believe this because she'd become aware
that everyone, male and female, admired Sam. He was funny,
kind-hearted, daring and often outspoken.
Yet whatever Jack's reason for wanting to spend time
with them, Beth was always pleased to see him. He was
entertaining, quick-witted and worldly. He made her feel
slightly giddy, and he always understood her little jokes and
came back with sharp retorts that made her giggle. She often
wished that it wasn't so cold on deck so they could stay up
there longer; as it was, she often prolonged their meetings
until she was almost a block of ice. On the way back down
the companionway they lingered chatting until one of the
crew or stewards told them off for blocking the way.
Sam's activities were not curtailed by mere rules. He
managed to flout them all by sheer charm, his smart appearance
and his good manners. He'd somehow managed to get
to know a young lady called Annabel in second class, and
spent part of each day with her and her family in various
places around the ship, even to the extent of eating with

them and avoiding the disgusting daily meal of stew given
to the steerage passengers.
Beth might have been jealous if he hadn't smuggled her
back cake and fruit. Jack was awestruck by Sam's coolheaded
nerve and by his bearing which enabled him to get
away with it.
'If I walked through one of those grids they'd know
straight off where I came from,' he said with a wry grin. 'I'd
do better to nick a steward's jacket and carry a tray to get in
there. But the minute I opened me mouth the game would
be up.'
'They say there's no class distinction in America,' Beth
pointed out. 'All you need to better yourself is the ability to
work hard.'
Beth hadn't really been aware of class distinction until
her mother died. Before that, almost everyone she came
into contact with had been the middling sort, respectable
and industrious, just like her family. She was of course aware
of the very poor; she saw them daily begging in the streets.
But the gentry were so far removed from her, with their big
houses, servants and fancy carriages, that they never touched
her life.
Going to work and later to live in Falkner Square had
changed all that. Then she was a servant, observing the
gentry from close quarters, and she became aware of the
huge, unbridgeable gulf between her and them. The Langworthys
had never made her feel inferior, but she had been
made to feel so on this voyage just because they couldn't
afford a higher fare.
At night as she lay in her bed, trying to blank out the
groans of the sick around her and the ever-present smell of
vomit, she would think about the promised classless society
in America. Clearly there had to be some kind of hierarchy

there too, but if it was based on wealth rather than birth or
education, maybe if she and Sam worked hard they could
end up with the kind of status the Langworthys held.
Chapter Eleven

'Land's been sighted!
At the excited yell from one of her fellow steerage passengers,
Beth rushed to get her coat and joined the throng of
other people pushing and shoving to get up on deck. It was
early afternoon, eight days since they left Liverpool, and it
seemed odd that even those who had spent the entire voyage
prostrate with seasickness had suddenly found the strength
to get up.
Rain was coming down heavily, the visibility very poor,
and all Beth could see ahead was a slightly darker grey line
on the horizon, yet that didn't send anyone back to the
warmth below decks. All around her she could hear people
asking one another how long it would be until they landed,
and then discussing what they'd do first once they'd been
through immigration.
After having the entire deck to herself for most of the
voyage, it felt strange to be jostled by so many people. Sam
wasn't there -- she assumed he was with Annabel -- and she
couldn't see Jack either. To try to avoid the crush, and to
find a spot from where she might get her first glimpse of
land, she elbowed her way through the throng of people,
right up to the railings that separated them from first class.
There, to her surprise, just the other side of the railing,
was Clarissa, huddled under an umbrella with a gentleman.
Beth might have only had a brief glimpse of her in the
dark, but she knew without any doubt it was Clarissa, even
before she heard her speak. She was wearing a long, light

brown fur coat and matching hat, a few tendrils of blonde
hair fluttering in the breeze around her face.
Beth kept looking straight ahead, but her eyes were swivelling
sideways to study the woman. She was what most people
would call a classical beauty: an oval face, porcelain-like
complexion, a perfect straight nose and high cheekbones.
Beth couldn't see her eyes straight on, but she assumed
they'd be blue. Yet her looks were not as interesting as the
way she was with her companion. He held the umbrella
above them with one hand, but she was holding his other
arm almost possessively and looking right up into his eyes
each time he spoke.
Beth assumed he must be yet another admirer, because
he didn't fit the image of an old, stout man she had created
in her mind for this woman's husband. He was around forty
and tall, with a little goatee beard and neat moustache, as
straight-backed and slender as a guardsman in a stylish dark
blue coat with an astrakhan collar. Unusually, he wasn't
wearing a hat, and he had a good head of wavy brown hair.
While not rakishly handsome like the other man Beth had
seen, he had a pleasant, good-natured face, and he was
laughing at something Clarissa was saying to him.
'I'm afraid I may lose the brolly soon,' Beth heard him
say as a gust of wind almost turned it inside out and he had
to struggle to bring it under control.
'I did say, my darling, that it was a mistake to bring it out
here,' Clarissa replied, smiling fondly at him. 'Umbrellas
don't belong on ships, only in cities.'
'And let my lovely wife get wet?' he exclaimed jovially.
Beth was so surprised to discover this was the cuckolded
husband that she almost jerked her head round towards the
couple, but she controlled herself just in time and kept her
eyes fixed firmly on the horizon.

'I did suggest it would be wiser to watch for land from
the saloon,' she heard Clarissa retort.
'Maybe wiser, but there's a more exciting atmosphere out
here,' her husband replied, waving one hand at the steerage
passengers. 'Look at them all, clamouring for their first sight
of America.'
Beth knew she ought to feel disgusted that this woman
thought so little of marital fidelity. Clearly her husband
wasn't an ogre, and she'd been playing fast and loose with
the handsome younger man's feelings. Yet what she felt was
more like disappointment, and sadness that the other man
was going to be badly hurt.

A few minutes later, the mist and rain lifted just enough for
land to be dimly sighted, and this took Beth's mind off
Clarissa and her lover.
The passengers learned to their frustration that they
wouldn't set foot in New York that evening, for the ship
had to lie at anchor in the Hudson River until an immigration
official came aboard. It was said that he had to check there
was no disease on board, and then, providing all was well,
they would be allocated a berth in the New York docks the
following morning.
The calmer waters and the delight at being so close to their destination cured seasickness instantly and everyone
wanted their last night to be one to remember. Even Miss
Giles, who had watched the women in her care like a hawk,
relaxed her vigilance.
When the customary cauldron of stew was brought down
for the evening meal, there was a near riot in the rush to be
served. Some of the passengers had eaten nothing but a few
spoonfuls of thin gruel and dry bread since Liverpool, and
now they were ravenously hungry.

Beth could hardly believe her eyes as they fell on the
greyish-brown, greasy liquid with a few pieces of vegetables
and more lumps of gristle than meat floating in it. She had
forced herself to eat some of the nauseating concoction
each night, because there was nothing else on offer, but they
all looked as if they were positively enjoying it.
Once the meal was over, out came the fiddle, the spoons
and the mouth organs and the singing, dancing and drinking
began in earnest. Jack had a bottle of whisky and offered it
to Beth. She took a swig and winced as it burned her throat, but, determined to be daring, she took another and found
it went down more easily.
Maybe it was only the whisky, but that evening Beth
felt like a butterfly coming out of a cocoon. The sheer
number of young men clamouring to dance with her proved
that she was attractive; she felt excited and optimistic
about the adventure awaiting her in the morning. While she
knew she was going to miss Molly dreadfully in the weeks
ahead, she suddenly reali2ed she wasn't sorry she'd left
England.
'Get your fiddle and play, Beth,' Sam urged her.
She tried to refuse because she'd never played in public
before, and she was afraid she wasn't as good as the old
man. But Sam wouldn't leave it, and soon all the other
people around them were clamouring for her to play too.
Beth had always played the fiddle by ear, even though she
read music for the piano, and when she came back with her
instrument she listened to a few bars of the tune the old
man was playing, and once she thought she'd got it, she
joined in with him.
It was far faster than she was used to, yet it felt right, the
way the fiddle was intended to be played. Her fingers moved
like quicksilver on the strings and her bow was making them


sing. She moved her whole body in rhythm, closing her eyes
and completely immersing herself in the music.
She sensed rather than saw her audience's appreciation:
the foot-tapping grew louder, and whoops of joy came from
those dancing. All at once she knew this was what she was
made for, to play soaring, happy music that lifted her and
all those around her to a better place. She forgot she was
on a ship surrounded by grubby, pale-faced people and felt
as if she were dancing barefoot across a buttercup-strewn
meadow in bright sunshine.
When the tune ended and she opened her eyes again, she
saw she had taken everyone to that place too. Their eyes
were shining, they were smiling broadly, and sweat poured
from their faces.
'Ah, you're a little gypsy!' a man in the crowd shouted out.
'Sure and wasn't that the best fiddling outside of Dublin!'
Beth played a few more times before putting her fiddle
down and joining in the dancing. It was even more frantic
than on their first night, the music louder, and as she was
swirled around in a frantic polka, she laughed with sheer joy.
Sam passed her by again and again, each time with a
different girl in his arms, and his wide, approving grin at the
sight of her enjoying herself made her feel even more elated.
It occurred to her that he'd probably harboured doubts that
she could ever break out of her prissy ways, and maybe he'd
even feared she would be a liability.
She vowed to herself then that she would show him she
could be as good as any man in taking the rough with the
smooth, and she would throw herself into the big adventure
wholeheartedly.
A couple of hours later, the pipe and cigarette smoke and
the sheer number of hot sweaty bodies in a confined space
with little fresh air coming in, made Beth head for the deck.

As she went up the stairs she realized to her consternation
that she was a little tipsy because she found it hard to
coordinate her movements. Just as she was about to topple
backwards, she felt two hands clutch her round the waist
from behind to steady her.
It was Jack.
'Steady on, girl,' he said. 'If you're sure the deck is where
you want to be, I'll come with you.'
As they finally got up to the top, the cold fresh air felt
wonderful. The rain had stopped, the sky was clear and
studded with stars and the sea was flecked with silver lights.
'This is better,' she sighed, taking deep breaths. 'How
beautiful it all looks.'
'That it does,'Jack agreed. 'The sea looks like black satin,
and see that moon!'
It was just a crescent, but it appeared far closer and
brighter than Beth had ever noticed back in Liverpool. They
found a locker to sit on and stayed there in companionable
silence for some time. The band was playing along in the
first-class saloon, and now that they were going up the
Hudson River it was far warmer than out at sea, so much
so that several other couples had come up and were standing
further along the deck.
'You're a dark horse,' Jack said, grinning at her. 'You
never said you could play like that. I thought when I saw
your violin case you only played that screechy chamber
stuff.'
'It's an Irish fiddle,' Beth said with a smile. 'I don't think
it knows anything but jigs. My mother never approved of it;
she always said it was ale-house music'
'You'll never be short of work playing that way,' Jack
said. 'But where are you going tomorrow? Have you got
plans?'

'I think Sam has,' she said. 'What about you?'
'I'm going to my friend's place,' he replied. 'I don't think
it's much, a kind of lodging house, but it will do until I get
work.'
'And what will that be?'
'Anything that pays well,' he replied. 'I just wish I had
a talent like yours. You'll surely have people falling over
themselves to hire you.'
'Hire me?' she exclaimed. 'To play my fiddle?'
'Isn't that what you were gonna do?' he asked, looking
puzzled.
'I thought I'd have to do domestic work or be an assistant
in a shop, like back home,' she said.
Jack snorted with laughter. 'Well, you'd be crazy if you
did when you've got a talent like that up your sleeve.'
'But they won't take a girl on, will they?'
'That would be an even bigger attraction,' Jack said.
'Especially someone as pretty as you.'
'Well, thank you, Jack,' she said, blushing a little.
'I'd be glad to come and listen, but I don't suppose you'll
want to know me once you start moving in fancy circles!'
'Of course I will,' Beth said indignantly.
'Nah!' He shook his head. 'I'm too rough for someone
like you. Your friends will look at my scarred face and think
I'm a wrong 'un.'
'How did you get it?' she asked, and reached out to touch
the scar gently.
'My pa done it. He was hitting Ma, I tried to stop him,
and he picked up the knife and slashed me. That's why
I left London. Couldn't take no more.'
'If you got it defending your mother, there's no reason
to be ashamed of it,' Beth said, and kissed the scar.
Suddenly his arms were round her and he was kissing her.

Beth was startled, but not unpleasantly so. Jack's lips were
soft and warm; she liked the way one of his hands was
caressing her face and the tingle she felt down her spine.
Without even being aware of what she was doing, she nestled
into his arms and put hers around him.
As his tongue insinuated itself between her lips she
thought he was taking liberties, but it felt good and she
didn't want to break away. He was breathing heavily, holding
her tighter and tighter, and it was only then that she realized
she ought to call a halt.
We should go back now,' she said as she broke away and
stood up. 'We've got an early start tomorrow and so much
ahead of us.'
'I don't ever want to let you go,' he whispered. 'You're
so lovely.'
Beth smiled at him and patted his face. 'That's sweet, but
you'll see me tomorrow.'
'I'd do anything for you,' he said, catching her fiercely by
her shoulders. 'Anything!'

By the time Beth got back below decks, the party had broken
up. A few drunken men were still staggering around, but the
women and children were all in bed. In the single women's
dormitory Maria and Bridie were waiting for Beth; it seemed
someone had reported back that she had been seen with
Jack.
'Is he your sweetheart?' Bridie whispered, her freckled
face alight with eagerness.
'No, at least I don't think so,' Beth said, hurriedly pulling
off her dress and boots and clambering into her bed. She had
no idea whether a few kisses amounted to being someone's
sweetheart. She liked Jack, but then he'd been the only man
on the ship that she'd got to know. And for all she knew, she

might meet someone far more suitable when they landed.
'Did he kiss you?' Maria whispered.
'Yes.'
'What was it like?' Maria asked.

'Nice,' Beth whispered back. 'But I don't know how it compares as it was the first time.'
'You've never been kissed before?' Bridie said incredulously.
Miss
Giles came in then to check everyone was in bed,
so Beth was spared having to say anything more.
She pretended she'd fallen asleep before Miss Giles left,
shutting the door behind her. With her eyes closed she could
relive Jack's kisses, and savour the delicious sensation all
over again.

'What's happening now?' Beth asked Sam. It was ten in the
morning and a clear, sunny day. They had been woken at
first light by the ship's engines starting up again, and someone
yelled out that it was time to disembark.
Suddenly it was utter chaos down in steerage with everyone
rushing to pack up the remainder of their belongings.
Even the crew shouting out that it would be several hours
before they left the ship made no difference to the mass
panic.
Beth was swept up in it too, and rushed up on deck to
see for herself.
There was New York spread before her, looking exactly
the way it had in a picture she'd seen in a magazine. She
could even see the spire of Trinity Church which she knew
was an aid to shipping as it was the highest building.
She was spellbound. The church spire might be the tallest
building, but all the others appeared remarkably tall too. It
was the sheer volume of ships that really astounded her.

Countless piers jutted out into what a sailor told her was
the East River. Apparently the Hudson, which they'd sailed
up the previous evening, was on the other side of the island,
and a ship was moored at each and every pier. Despite the
early hour the quay was crowded with every kind of cart,
wagon and carriage imaginable, and hundreds of men were
unloading and loading cargos.
As they came in closer, the noise of barrels being rolled
over the cobbles, horses' hooves, wagon wheels, ships'
engines and human voices was tremendous, and when Beth
looked away from the quayside she saw thousands of craft
of every kind, from tugboats to old sailing ships, out on the
river. Looking back in the direction the ship had come from,
she caught sight of the Statue of Liberty, which she'd seen
so often in pictures at home. But nothing had prepared her
for the sheer mammoth size of it, towering over the harbour,
or the emotion it awakened in her.
She remembered her teacher reciting a poem. Beth
couldn't recall if it was actually something to do with the
statue, or just America in general, but the part of it which
had remained in her head seemed to fit both of them: 'Give
me your tired, your poor huddled masses yearning to breathe
freely. The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.'
Beth didn't see herself, Sam or anyone on this ship as
'wretched refuse', but she supposed the woman who wrote
it had watched many thousands of people from all over
Europe hobbling through the immigration halls. With their
worn suitcases, drawn faces, and shabby clothes they probably did look like so much refuse, though she thought the
poet could have used a kinder word.
The Brooklyn Bridge was far bigger and longer than
she expected too. She couldn't imagine how anyone could
conceive of erecting something so huge over a river.

Her final thought before going back below decks to await
instructions about when they would disembark was to
wonder, if the port of New York held all these marvels,
what more incredible sights there would be in the rest of
the city.

'It seems the first and second classes are too grand to pass
through immigration,' Sam said gloomily later as he and
Beth watched gangways being lowered and the upper classes
happily tripping down them, most with porters carrying their
luggage. We get taken on a ferry to Ellis Island to be
checked out. If they don't like the look of us we get sent
back to England.'
'They aren't likely to send us back,' Beth pointed out.
'We're strong and healthy.'
'I wasn't afraid we'd be sent back. It's how long it will
take to be cleared. Look how many ships there are here, all
full of immigrants. It will be hard to find somewhere to stay
tonight once it's dark.'

By four in the afternoon Beth was growing very anxious as
the queues to be interviewed by immigration officers didn't
appear to be moving at all. It was nearly twelve o'clock
before the ferry had brought them to the island and the huge,
pine-built building in which they were to be 'processed'. She
had heard from a sailor on the ferry that this building had
only been opened in 1892, but it was filled with thousands
of people with unwashed bodies, and what with the poor
ventilation, her stomach rumbling with hunger and her legs
aching with standing for so long, it felt like an ancient torture
room.
So much noise too -- thousands of voices all talking at
once, and many of them speaking foreign languages. There

was a palpable undercurrent of fear as well, which perhaps
was why so many small children were crying. Word passed
back down the queues that they were to be questioned along
with a medical examination, and although this didn't bother
Beth or Sam, it was clear that it was creating anxiety for
many.
'Public charge' was a phrase Beth kept hearing people
use. She gathered that the officials were refusing entry to
anyone they thought might become one. She saw a wizened
old couple who looked barely able to stand and hoped that
they could prove they had family to take care of them. There
were whole families who seemed so dreadfully poor that
they were bound to be treated with suspicion, and what of
those who looked thin, pale and coughed a great deal? Were
they harbouring tuberculosis?
By the time Beth was called forward to the doctor, she
felt faint with hunger and thirst, but the doctor only looked
her up and down and waved her on. The questions were
simple enough: how much money she had, what sort of work
she would be doing, and a few others which were obviously
intended to discover if she was mentally competent.
After waiting for so long for the interview, it seemed
absurdly brief, almost a disappointment. She was waved on,
Sam right behind her, and suddenly they realized it was all
over. They'd been accepted and they could get aboard the
ferry bound for the city.
The hours on Ellis Island had been horrible, frustrating
and tiring, and they had expected that once they were over
that, everything would be fine. But as they walked down the
gangway from the ferry on to the quay in New York, Beth
was terrified.
It was now after eight in the evening, dark and cold,
and it felt like being thrown headlong into a maelstrom:

thousands of bewildered, luggage-laden people, and preying
on them the jackals who were determined to relieve them
of some of their money.

Intimidating burly men in checked suits and homburg
hats elbowed their way through the crowds, offering to
change their money into dollars and get them a hotel room
or a bus or train ticket. There were ragged, barefooted
urchins tugging at their clothes begging for money or offering
to carry their bags, and a huge negress with a turban on
her head urged them to come to her restaurant for something
to eat. One stout man wearing a frock coat and top
hat blocked their way, insisting that he could take them to
a 'swanky apartment' for a small consideration.

Beth might have been tempted to put her trust in someone,
for she was hungry and cold, wanting a cup of tea and
a sit-down more than anything in the world, but Sam, carrying
their luggage, swept her on, brushing aside all these
pedlars and warning her to keep a tight hold on her fiddle.

'Annabel's father told me of a hotel to make for,' he said.
'We'll just get away from here and find something to eat,
then we'll take a cab to the hotel.'

¦"What about Jack?' she asked, for she'd turned and seen
him trying to catch up with them.

'Jack can look out for himself,' he said sharply.
Chapter Twelve


I
'I never thought it would be so hard to find somewhere to
live,' Sam sighed despairingly. 'Nor that there would be so
many people out to cheat us. I really don't know where to
turn next.'
Beth was unpicking the lining of her jacket by the light
of a candle to get at the last of the money they'd brought
from England. As Sam spoke, she looked across to where
he sat hunched by the meagre fire, a picture of misery.
They had been in New York for a whole month, but they
had not bargained with being the target for quite so many
crooks. It was almost as if they were wearing placards saying
'Greenhorn'.
There was the booth down by the docks which invited
immigrants to register for work. The form they had to fill
in looked official; the man who advised them was smartly
dressed and seemed concerned for them. The twenty-dollar
fee didn't seem that much, not if it meant they would be
sent out to good, well-paid work. But after three days, when
no message arrived at their hotel as he'd promised, they
called back to the booth, only to find it had gone, and their
twenty dollars with it.
Another time they answered an advertisement for accommodation
in the newspaper. They met the landlord at the
boarding house and were shown two pleasant rooms which
they were told the present tenant would be vacating at the
end of the week. They paid him twenty-five dollars' advance
rent and were given a key. But when they turned up, ready


to move in, the key didn't open the front door of the
building, and when they managed to rouse one of the other
tenants they discovered the man they'd met wasn't the landlord
at all. There were no vacant rooms there.
It didn't make them feel any better to discover that dozens
of other people had fallen for these tricks too. They had
lost what seemed like a fortune to them, and they felt
embittered that such trickery was commonplace, yet no one
had warned them about it.
There were many other unhappy incidents too, offers of
work which turned out to be a hoax, accommodation they
rushed to see, only to find it consisted of sharing one room
with half a dozen other people. They'd been spun very
believable hard luck stories and been talked into 'Sure Thing'
gambling games which would make them rich. Mostly they
were realistic about the latter, and only risked a dollar at
most, but they had fallen for some of the hard luck stories,
and realized after they'd parted with money that they'd been
suckered.
This hotel was the fourth they'd stayed in, each time
moving to somewhere cheaper until they got to this flea-pit
in Division Street. But although the room was tiny, grubby,
cheerless and cold, they knew it was a palace compared with
most of the accommodation on offer to immigrants with
little money.
Unless they found work soon, though, they wouldn't be
able to afford to stay even here. Sam might not know where
to turn to next, but Beth did, and she knew her brother
wasn't going to like it.
'We could turn to Jack,' she said quietly, bracing herself
for his anger. 'I saw him earlier today.'
'What!' Sam exclaimed, his face darkening.
Beth shrugged. 'I know you don't approve because he's

I






Mo

I
sweet on me, but he can help us. He's already got a job, he
knows people here, and with him on our side we won't be
fleeced any more.'
We don't need help from someone like him,' Sam said woodenly.
¦You're holding out for someone from Fifth Avenue to
rescue us, I suppose?' Beth said sarcastically. 'Or waiting for
the Waldorf to send someone round to beg you to be their
new barman?'
'Don't be ridiculous,' he snapped. 'You know how many
jobs I've been after.'
Yes, but they've all been well out of your league,' she
retorted blundy.
Sam had such grand ideas that he'd gone after jobs far
beyond his limited experience. He was only eighteen and
he'd only ever mended shoes, kept ledgers and served drinks.
But he'd got it into his head that he could leap into a top
position here just because he was English.
'Don't be a snob about Jack,' she said reprovingly. 'He
might be a bit rough and ready but he's a good sort, and
he's sharp too. We aren't; we get taken for suckers because
we don't know what's what. The only way we are going to
make our way in this country is by getting down there with
common folk, learn the ropes and then find a way to climb
them.'
'We weren't brought up to live in a slum,' he said sullenly.
'Surely you haven't forgotten that place?'
Beth hadn't. She still shuddered at the thought of the area
they'd stumbled upon by accident on their first night in the
city.
Sam had been given directions to Broadway and a reasonably
priced hotel, but they must have taken a wrong turning
in the dim light and ended up in the hideous slum area they

'P
now knew was the infamous Five Points, named because
five streets, including Park and Worth, converged there.
It was a thousand times worse than any slum in Liverpool,
a poorly lit, veritable rabbit warren of narrow alleys lined
with decaying old houses. Filthy, ragged and barefoot children
huddled in doorways, bent old men were hugging open
fires on waste ground, and slatternly-looking women yelled
abuse as they walked by. The five-storey tenements, which
loomed over the older houses like grim fortresses, appeared
to house thousands, judging by the cacophony of noise
coming from them.
By then it was almost ten in the evening, the stench was
like walking through an open sewer and everyone appeared
to be drunk or demented. They were approached threateningly
several times, harassed for money, and savage-looking
dogs snarled at them. They actually feared for their lives.
The following day, in the temporary safety of a neat, clean
hotel, they were informed that twenty years earlier, Five
Points was said to be the worst slum in the whole world.
Even now, in its improved state, it was the last refuge of
the desperate, both the poor and criminals. As many as sixteen people could be sharing just one room, gangs of
children lived rough on the streets, and hardly a night passed
without someone being murdered.
Since then they had explored New York, and while there
were many other areas where immigrants lived in substandard
and often hideously overcrowded tenements, the terrible
sights they'd seen in Five Points were not encountered again.
There were the mansions on Fifth Avenue, beautiful quiet
squares with elegant houses, and shops crammed with goods
they'd never seen before. Central Park was vast and magnificent,
and there were buildings so big and grand they
could only stand and stare at them. They marvelled at the

elevated railtrack on which the train chugged along over
their heads, and at the new, amazingly tall buildings which
people called skyscrapers.
The sheer volume of traffic -- carts, cabs, carriages and
omnibuses -- was staggering, as was the number of restaurants,
oyster bars and coffee shops. It was such an exciting,
noisy, vibrant city, and the huge mixture of different
nationalities, all with their own languages, customs, music
and cuisines, created an alluring and mesmerizing circus of
delights.
Beth felt that if they could just get work and a decent
place to live she was sure they could be very happy here.
'I wasn't suggesting we live in Five Points,' she said
indignantly, for she was growing tired of her brother seeing
the worst in everything. You've got to stop comparing
everything to back home, Sam. We were really lucky that
the Langworthys gave us a home after the fire. But that kind
of luck is rare. I sometimes think we might have been served
better back then if we'd been forced to live the way most
people do; that way we'd be more worldly now. And if you
hadn't escaped out of steerage every day on the ship, you
might have learned a thing or two about ordinary people.'
He shuddered, and Beth sighed inwardly. It was only in
the past few weeks that she had discovered her brother had
failings, and she wasn't sure he could overcome them.
It wasn't so much that he was a snob -- he didn't actually
look down on people. He just believed he was due the better
things of life and refused even to consider doing any kind
of manual work. He was mesmerized by wealth and in the
thrall of anyone who had it, and because he'd charmed
himself into second class on the ship so easily, and been
favoured by the wealthy customers back at the Adelphi, he
couldn't see why his charm wasn't working here.

But Beth could see why. New Yorkers were by and
large loud and often aggressive. Sam's appeal was his good
looks, soft voice, the twinkle in his blue eyes and his very
Englishness. He would do very well with just that if he were
already rich and living on Fifth Avenue, but for a man
looking for work he needed to project himself as strong and
capable.
Jack was working in a slaughterhouse on the East Side.
He said it was the hardest work he'd ever done, a stinking,
horrible job, but the pay was good and he'd made many
friends there. He'd offered to get Sam in too, but Beth knew
her brother would sooner die of starvation than work there.
It had been so good to see Jack today. They had made a
pact on arrival in New York that they would meet one
month to the day on Castie Green, which was close to where
they disembarked, at half past five.
Beth hadn't really expected Jack to turn up - a whole
month in a new city was enough to make anyone forget
hasty promises. But there he was, looking very smart in a
checked jacket, well-pressed trousers and polished boots.
He told her he'd managed to get off a couple of hours earlier
by telling his boss a relative of his was arriving from England.
He was honest enough to say he was living in a tenement,
sharing a room with six other people, but he pointed out that
he'd lived in similar places back in Liverpool. He laughingly
admitted he'd got his jacket and trousers from a second-hand
shop and sweet-talked a girl in a laundry to press them for
him. But however awful his job sounded, it was clear he'd
really thrown himself into his new life. He looked healthier and more muscular than he had on the ship, and much more
confident.
Beth had left him feeling a great deal more hopeful, not
just because they planned to meet again in a few days, but


because he'd made some suggestions as to how she and Sam
could get on their feet.

'Look, Sam,' Beth said in a firm tone. 'Why don't you get a
barman's job on the Bowery? There's plenty of work going
there.'
His eyes opened wide in alarm. 'I couldn't work in one
of those rough houses.'
'Almost all the bars in New York are a bit rough,' she
said patiently. She hadn't been in any herself but Jack had
told her this. 'You need experience before anyone will give
you work in a top hotel or private members' club. And I've
got a plan. If you were working as a barman, I could come
in and play my fiddle there.'
Sam looked at her in horror. 'On the Bowery! With all
those--'
'Yes, rough men.' Beth cut him short. 'I couldn't do it
without someone to look out for me, but I know those men
will really like my playing. Besides, some of the men who
drink down there own saloons uptown. We'd get ourselves
noticed. Not many saloon owners could have a handsome
gent like you behind their bar with a sister who gets everyone's
toes tapping. We'd be a real money-spinner for them.'
These were words right out of Jack's mouth. But she
wasn't going to tell Sam that because she knew he'd dismiss
the idea out of hand.
'You'd really want to play in one of those dives?' Sam
said incredulously.
'Why not? It's as good a training ground as anywhere, better than a snooty place where some clever devil would
notice if I hit a wrong note,' she said defiantly. 'You know
I've been to almost all the respectable hotels to ask if they
need a pianist. They take one look at me and show me the

door without even inviting me to show what I can do. I've
been to shops, restaurants, oyster bars and no one will even
give me a job washing dishes. Besides, I'd rather play the
fiddle. If I got a name for myself on the Bowery it might
change everything.'
'They'll think you're a whore down there,' Sam said disapprovingly.
'I couldn't watch over you if I was behind the bar.'
'It would be enough that men knew you were my brother,'
she insisted, for this was what Jack believed. He also said
he'd be around, and all his chums too. 'I'll be fine -- a man
would find it hard to do anything improper to me while I'm
playing a fiddle.'
Sam said nothing, but she sensed he was weakening, if
only because he thought her fiddle-playing might enhance
his own image.
'Let's give it a try,' she wheedled. 'I was told Heaney's is
one of the best bars, and they need a barman. What have
we got to lose? We do one night, see how it goes, and if
you hate it, we don't go back.'
Jack had said that Sam would be a magnet for all the
dancing girls in that area and he thought he'd soon come round once he was the centre of attention. Beth wasn't too
happy about girls like that going after her brother, but then
she'd be around to watch over him too.
'All right,' he said sourly. 'But it will be your fault if
something terrible happens.'
'What could be more terrible than to be starving and
homeless?' she said sharply. 'And that's what we'll be once
our money runs out.'

At eight o'clock the following night, for all her brave talk,
Beth was terrified.

She and Sam had gone into Heaney's at midday and asked Pat
'Scarface' Heaney, the owner, for work. He was a short but
extremely muscular man in his forties, and what little hair he
had left was ginger. He wore a bright green waistcoat which,
though startling, didn't detract from the formidable razor scar
running from his right eye right down to his chin. Jack had
told Beth that he received this in his youth when incarcerated
in the Tombs, the huge prison built to solve the problems
of Five Points, where Heaney had been a gang leader.

The Bowery was a street of entertainment, lined with bars,
music and dance halls, theatres, German beer halls and
restaurants. At night the sidewalks were crammed with stalls,
selling anything from hot dogs to fruit and candy. There
were also what were called 'museums', though in fact they
were freak shows, where for a few cents you could see
the Bearded Woman, dwarfs, trained monkeys and other
curiosities. Prostitutes mingled with the crowds, and inevitably
there were pickpockets too. But in the main it was the
playground of ordinary working folk.
Jack had said that Heaney's clientele was comparable to
those who drank in the big, noisy, ale houses near Lime
Street Station in Liverpool - cab drivers, carpenters and
engineers. He'd also pointed out that Heaney's was one of
the smartest saloons on the Bowery, with its shiny mahogany
bar, huge mirrors behind it and a great deal of well-polished
brass and clean sawdust on the floor.
Sam looked quite relieved when he saw it, for the men
drinking at the bar were ordinary, not the bruisers or
degenerates he'd expected.
Pat Heaney clearly liked the look of Sam right off, and
after only a few questions, he told him to get behind the bar
and serve the customers while he talked to Beth.

'I'll be straight with you,' Heaney said, swigging down a
large tumbler of whisky and keeping one eye on Sam. 'Girls,
specially pretty ones, are trouble in a bar. But I like the idea
of a girl fiddler, and you've got spunk coming in here and
asking to play when yer just off the boat.'
Beth lied and said she'd played publicly in Liverpool but
he waved his hand in a gesture that said he didn't care what
she'd done before, he was only interested in what she could
achieve in his saloon.
'I'll give you one chance,' he said. 'Tonight at eight. If
they like you, you're on; if not, then finis. Out you go. I
can't say fairer than that. I'll get one of the boys to hand
round the hat for you, and I'll take half of it.'
It struck Beth that the odds were all in his favour. He
wasn't going to lose even if she played badly.
He was an intimidating man, not just because of his scar,
or the muscles that showed under his thin shirt, but through
his blunt manner and the way he looked at her. There was
no light in his pale brown eyes, just cold calculation. He
asked why they'd come to America, and when she said both
their parents had died and they wanted a new start he made
no comment, not even to say he was sorry for their loss.
Instinct told her he had no soft side, and that she and
Sam would have to tread very carefully with him. Jack
had recommended they tried this bar first because Heaney
considered himself 'the man' on the Bowery: he liked to be
first with anything different, and a girl fiddler was certainly
that. But Jack had also warned her he had a reputation as a
dangerous man to cross.
'How long will you want me to play for?' Beth asked
cautiously.
He took his eyes off Sam for a minute or two to give her
another cold stare. 'That depends on if they like you,' he

said. 'If I wave my hands after the first three numbers, you
go. If not, you play for an hour. At the end of that I'll tell
you what next. Right?'
Beth nodded nervously.
'Got something more colourful to wear than that?' he
asked sharply, looking at her brown coat with disdain. "They
won't like you if you look like a school marm.'
Beth gulped. She had very few clothes and all of them
were dark in colour. 'I'll try and find something,' she said.
He got to his feet and looked down at her. 'Off you go
then. Be back at eight sharp. Your brother can stay on.'
She hesitated at the door, looking back at Sam. He was
polishing a glass as Heaney spoke to him. He glanced around
at her as the man walked away and made a cheerful
thumbs-up sign. But she saw a nicker of anxiety in his face
which she guessed was because he wouldn't be able to escort
her here tonight.
'I'll be fine,' she mouthed, and gave him the thumbs-up
sign back.

That afternoon she practised her fiddle for a couple of
hours and made a list of all the numbers she knew best
so she wouldn't run out of ideas that evening. She was
very nervous, for there was a world of difference between
playing when she chose to, and in front of a room full of
strangers.
Later she washed her hair and went through her clothes
as it was drying. She guessed Heaney expected her to wear
something flashy, but she had nothing like that. The brightest
dress was one Mrs Langworthy had passed on to her
just before they left; she'd said at the time it might be useful
if Beth got invited to a party or a dance. It was slightly
shiny with green and white stripes, a rather low neckline,

1/

leg-of-mutton sleeves and a small bustle. Beth had been
dying to put it on as it was very pretty, although she wasn't
entirely happy about wearing it to a saloon full of men. But
she thought that if she sewed a little lace across the low
neckline, at least she wouldn't show any cleavage.
At half past seven she was ready, stays pulled in extra
tight, her hair left loose on her shoulders, a couple of green
ribbons in her hair and her boots polished. She hadn't been
able to button up her dress at the back, and had to go and
ask the woman in the room below to do it for her. But she
was pleased with the end result: she didn't look like a loose
woman, but neither did she look like a schoolmistress. The
combination of nerves and excitement had given her a rosy
glow, and her hair was very shiny.
Picking up her fiddle case, she locked the room and left.

Pat Heaney leaned back on the door that led to a room he
kept for private gambling and watched the girl performing,
a smile twitching at the corner of his lips.
He hadn't expected much. Her soft English voice, the
clarity of her skin and the innocence in her eyes had all
made him think she would play like one of those stiff-backed
spinsters in a drawing room. How wrong he was!
The first surprise, when she arrived bang on time, was
how she looked with her hair down. A real stunner, with
shiny black curls tumbling on to her shoulders, nothing
like the prim look she'd had this morning with her little
governess's hat and her hair scraped up under it. He liked
her dress too, a classy little number, though he'd rather rip
off the lace across her chest and see what lay beneath it.
She was so scared when she got here that he thought
she'd make a run for it. And her brother didn't help by
keeping looking round at her all the time while she was

waiting to go on. Was he really her brother? They weren't
alike, except for their English accents.
But then he had announced her, and instead of faltering
as he expected she almost leapt up on to the stage. She
paused with that bow up in the air just long enough for
every man in the place to turn and look at her. Then down
it came and she was off and running, notes so sweet and
fast he could hardly believe what he was hearing.
Maybe he had heard better fiddle players, but they'd never
been pretty like her. She didn't just play with her arms and
hands, but her whole body, undulating with the music, better
than any of those hoochy-coochy girls he'd seen at the
Burlesque.
She was on her third number now, and she had everyone's
attention. Talking forgotten, drinks not quite getting to their
open mouths, feet tapping, heads nodding, every man jack
of them was in a trance.
She almost danced as she played, bending, swaying, those
hips moving in a way that was sending messages down to
his cock. He liked the way she tossed her hair back from
her face, the way little strands stuck to the sweat on her
cheeks. It was enough to make a man want to jump up
beside her and stroke it back.
Liking something this much was something Pat wasn't
used to. Knowing he had a winning hand at poker, sitting
down to a big juicy steak, the first whisky of the day -- they
were about the only things he could really claim to like.
He couldn't remember when he'd last listened to music,
really listened; he guessed it was back when he was about
her age.
Kighteen. He'd had fire in his belly then, always wanting
to prove himself, and every nerve end twitching with life.
When he wasn't fighting he was fucking; he never knew

which he liked best. And there was plenty of both around
Five Points.
He could still get a woman whenever he wanted one, and
he could have a fight too at any time. But he was getting
too old for fighting, and the women were all whores. Yet
listening to this girl made him feel juicy again, like he could
take on any one of those Young Turks who strutted up and
down the street. Like he could take a woman to bed and
keep hard all night.
He was going to be cock-o'-the-walk tonight. Every man
in here would want to pat him on the back and buy him a
drink for getting her in. They were spellbound; she'd
wrapped them up like a spider binding a fly in her web. And
they'd be back for more night after night.
Pat glanced at her brother. He was quite a find too,
good-looking in that fragile, English aristocrat way. He had
a nice manner about him, verging on the side of snooty, but
with a disarming smile, and he served drinks fast and with
style. Pat knew deep down in his bones the lad was honest
too, and that was rarer than a horse that didn't shit.
But it wouldn't take long before someone tried to poach
the pair of them away. He could see Fingers Malone up the
end of the bar; his devious little mind was probably already
whirling with plans to get them into his brother's fancy place
on Broadway.
So Pat knew he would have to think of some way to keep
their loyalty to him.
Chapter Thirteen

'That much?' Beth gasped as Heaney handed over her half
of what had been put in the hat for her. It was all in nickels
and dimes but it was such a large heap.
'Eight dollars and forty-five cents,' Heaney said. 'Do you
want me to change it up for you?'
Beth nodded, too astounded to speak. She had played
three hour-long sets, with a break between them. It was
nearly one in the morning now and she was exhausted.
'Don't expect to get that much every night,' Heaney said
dryly. 'You were a novelty tonight and it's Saturday. Come
Monday it might be just nickels, but I like you, so I'll promise
you'll never leave here without two dollars.'

'You want me back on Monday?'
'Yup. Monday, Friday and Saturday. Might get some other
players in at the weekend too.'
'How will the money be divided up then?' Beth asked,
fearing she would get a far smaller percentage.
He gave her a calculating look, perhaps surprised she'd
dared to ask. 'You leave that to me,' he replied. 'But as I
said, I'll see you right. You can go now, and your brother
too. I wouldn't want a pretty little thing like you walking
home alone.'

He's a strange man,' Sam said reflectively as they walked
home arm in arm. The Bowery was still every bit as busy as
it had been early in the evening; drunks wove their staggering
way through the more sober on the pavements, narrowly

missing the food stalls. Music and guffaws of laughter wafted
out from bars, the pounding sound of dancing feet from
somewhere unseen, and shouted greetings from one group
of people to another across the street. The air was heavy
with odours, fried onions on the hot-dog stands vying with
beer, tobacco, cheap scent and sweat, along with horse
droppings from the cabs. 'He hardly spoke to me all day. I
didn't know if he was pleased with how I was shaping up
or not. Then he stuck a five-dollar bill in my hand and said
I was to come back on Monday. Does that mean I get the
job for as long as I want it? And how much will I be paid
each week?'
'I think he's slippery, so we'll have to speak up and ask
such things,' Beth said thoughtfully. 'I know the audience
liked me, but he didn't say anything.'
'That'll be because he wants to keep the upper hand. Of
course he liked you -- I watched his face when you were
playing. Just hope he doesn't have any ideas about you being
his woman.'
'Surely not? He's far too old,' Beth exclaimed.

Sam chuckled. 'Most of the men watching you had
thoughts like that. I could see it in their faces. I can see I've
got to watch out for my little sister.'
'Who would have thought it?' Beth said dreamily as they
turned into a side street to cut down to Division Street. 'A
year ago we were frantic with worry about money, and now
here we are in America.'
'Still worried about money.' Sam chuckled again. 'And
we're working in a saloon! Papa would turn in his grave.'
'I think he'd be proud that we've been brave,' Beth said
indignantly. 'Besides, the saloon is just a first step. We'll find
a way to make our fortune.'

Fortunes, Beth found, weren't made so easily. By October,
six months after they'd arrived in New York, she was still
playing three nights a week in Heaney's and by day she
worked in a second-hand clothes shop on the Bowery. In a
good week she earned as much as thirty dollars, but the
good weeks were rare; mostly it was only around eighteen
dollars. Yet this, she had discovered, was far above what
most women could hope to earn. Most single women
worked as cleaners, shop assistants and waitresses, and all
were badly paid and worked very long hours.
For married women with children, there was no choice
but to work at home for people who exploited their desperation
to earn some money. Some did piecework for garment
manufacturers, working a fourteen-hour day at least in
crowded, badly lit rooms. Others made matchboxes and got
everyone in the family to help. Women like this were lucky
to earn a dollar a day, and most got half that.
Beth didn't take her second job because of the money,
but because she was lonely at home all day with nothing to
do. She had gone into the second-hand shop close to
Heaney's one day to see if she could find a new dress. Ira
Roebling, the old Jewish woman who owned it, was very
friendly and chatty, and by the time Beth left the shop, with
a red satin dress in a parcel, she'd given Ira a potted version
of her life story, heard some of Ira's, and had been offered
the job.
Ira had come over from Germany back in the 1850s
with her husband and his parents. They had owned a very
successful pastry shop for years, but a year after both
her in-laws had passed on from old age, her husband died
in an influenza epidemic, and without him Irma couldn't
manage the baking of the pastries. She turned to selling
second-hand clothes because she loved clothes and had

many contacts prepared to sell her their old finery. With
each ship bringing in new immigrants, there were always
people wanting cheap clothes, and just as many who wanted
to sell theirs.
Ira was a shrewd, some said mean, old girl. She gave the
very lowest price for clothes and sold them for the highest.
Beth guessed her to be in her sixties, though it was hard to
tell as she was slender, strong and very energetic. She always
wore black, including a felt cloche hat which she never took
off even when it was hot. But however eccentric she was,
she was funny and quick-witted. Beth had seen her cast her
black shoe-button eyes over a row of figures and add them
up in a trice, and she never forgot anything, not the name
of a customer, nor an item of clothing in her shop. The
number of people who came in and out during the day just
for a chat was testimony to the esteem in which she was
held in the neighbourhood.
Ira did most of the selling, and Beth sorted the clothes
into sizes, did the odd repair and generally kept the shop in
order. This was no mean feat as it was crammed from floor
to ceiling with stuff. There were huge boxes of shoes, all
jumbled in together, and one of the first things Beth did
was tie them up in pairs and sort them by colour and size.
She often tried clothes on too, something Irma actively
encouraged, for as she pointed out, they couldn't sell things
unless they knew what they looked like on.

Ira lived above her shop, and her three rooms were just
as chaotic. During the summer when it was unbearably hot,
Beth wondered how she didn't pass out from lack of air,
for she never opened her windows for fear of someone
climbing in and robbing her. But although Ira was mean in
many ways, never throwing anything out and haggling with
customers over prices till the pips squeaked, she always gave

Beth something to eat at midday. Sometimes it was delicious
chicken soup she'd made herself, but more often it was hot
salt beef sandwiches from a Jewish delicatessen along the
street, and some fresh fruit. She said she didn't think Beth
ate enough and no man would want her for his wife until
she'd put some meat on her bones.
Beth had laughed at that, for she saw Jack at least twice
a week, and she knew he thought she was perfect the way
she was. She liked him too, his sense of humour, reliability
and the way he looked after her, and she supposed that if a
girl spent that much time with a boy back in England, it
would be considered almost an engagement.
But Beth was reluctant to encourage Jack beyond friendship.
Ira
thought this wise, not because she didn't approve of
Jack, in fact she liked him, but she felt Beth was too young
to be serious about anyone.
'There are so many hundreds of nice young men out
there,' she would say with a roguish twinkle in her eye.
'Enjoy your youth, it doesn't last very long.'
But Ira wasn't happy about Beth playing at Heaney's.
'He's rotten to the core,' she'd say emphatically. 'You must
never be alone with him, and make sure your brother never
lets him do any favours for him, otherwise when he calls
them in, Sam will be in deep trouble.'
Beth was always careful to keep her distance from Heaney,
for he made her flesh crawl. He looked at her as if he was
mentally stripping her clothes away, and she felt his eyes on
her all the time she was playing. But though she wished she
could leave his bar and go to work for someone she liked
and felt comfortable with, she knew he would make her
regret it.
By all accounts Pat Heaney took slights very seriously. It

was rumoured that he had killed several men, and crippled
many more, just for talking about him behind his back or
refusing to obey his orders.
He had no real friends, only lackeys who supported him
because they were afraid to do otherwise. According to Jack,
he controlled dozens of prostitutes, taking at least half of
what they earned. He owned two of the most dilapidated
tenements in the Canal Street area and he charged such
exorbitant rents that his tenants had to sublet again and
again to be able to pay him. He had a hand in the thriving
opium dens, dog-fighting and bare-knuckle fights. Even if
only half the stories about his revenge attacks on people
who had fallen foul of him were true, he was an exceptionally
dangerous man. Beth was certain that if she left to work
somewhere else in New York some 'accident' would befall
her. He would never let her be a success anywhere but in
his saloon.
Sam thought she was allowing her imagination to get the
better of her. He not only didn't believe the man was
dangerous, he felt he was Heaney's right-hand man because
he let him run the bar without interference.
But Beth could see why this was. Despicable as Heaney was, he wasn't a fool. He knew Sam was honest and capable,
and just as big an attraction to the chorus girls from the
local theatres as Beth was to the male customers. She
would often peep through the door during her rest period
before the last set, and there were always three or four of
these girls flirting with Sam. And of course Sam loved the
attention.
But then Beth knew she was guilty too of loving the
attention she got. There was no bigger thrill than to have
an audience in her thrall, to know she was desired by most
of the men who cheered her rapturously. It was good to put

on a pretty dress, to know she could afford to buy another
any time she wanted to. She was doing something most
women could only dream of.
Soon after starting at Heaney's, she and Sam had found
a room on the top floor in a tenement on Houston Street,
sharing the kitchen with an Italian couple who had the other
room in the apartment. To almost everyone they knew, a
room for just two was luxury, and although Beth often
complained because there was never any peace and quiet in
the building with its five floors, each with four apartments
and an average of eight to ten people in each, she thanked
her lucky stars that it was only noise she had to put up with,
not a room full of people.
The room wasn't much, with its stained old wallpaper,
and it was like an oven during the heat of summer, but Beth
had made it homely. She begged some theatre posters to
cover up the stained walls, found a few sticks of furniture
among the many second-hand shops in the neighbourhood,
and Ira had let her run up some curtains on her sewing
machine and given her an old bedspread to string up
between their two beds to give them a little privacy.
Houston Street was a poor area, with lines of washing
hanging from every window, scrawny, grubby children playing
in the street, a grog shop on the corner, and she often
saw women trudging up the street with huge bundles of
clothing on their backs that they'd sewn at home. But it was
a lively, cheerful neighbourhood. On hot evenings people
sat out on the front steps and chatted, the women shared
child-care duties with one another, and helped the Italians
and Germans with their English. Everyone she spoke to
was glad they'd come to America and believed that by
working hard they would achieve all their goals.
The worst thing about the tenement was that there were

only two privies out the back for them all, stinking, horrible
places that made Beth shudder and cover her nose when
she entered. But Sam always emptied the slops pail each
morning before he went to work, and their room overlooked
the street, so the smell from the privies didn't come through
their windows. The apartment was also so high up that they
weren't troubled by rats, as many of those on the first and
second floors were.
On days when she felt irritated by the noise and smells
of cooking in the tenement, or daydreamed of the luxury of
having a real bathroom with hot and cold running water like
the one in Falkner Square, she reminded herself that these
things weren't really important, and how much better her
life had become since she'd been in America.
It would've been unthinkable for her to play her fiddle in
a saloon back home, where there was none of the freedom
for young women like there was here. She could meet Jack
alone for a couple of hours in the evening or on his day off
without anyone raising an eyebrow. She had more money
than she could ever have dreamed of back in England, and
no one knew about how her father died either. Then there
was the huge variety of food available here. She rarely
cooked anything herself for it was just as cheap to buy
something out. She loved the hot dogs, baked potatoes,
doughnuts, pancakes and waffles. A Chinese man had a stall
selling noodles which she adored, and she liked the big
bowls of spaghetti with a tomato and meat sauce at the
cafe owned by Italians. Hardly a day went by without Ira
introducing her to something new: pretzels, pastrami, salt
beef, fish balls or some kind of German sausage.
The only thing from England she really missed was Molly,
and that was like a dull ache inside her all the time. She
couldn't walk past a mother with a plump, dark-haired little


girl without stopping to speak, and in those brief moments
she felt acute envy.
'I could give you a baby of your own,' Jack said once
when they had been together and he'd watched her talk to
a child. It was said light-heartedly, for every time they kissed
he said he dreamed of making love to her.
Beth had laughed, for only a couple of days earlier she'd
been talking to Amy and Kate, the two young women who
lived in the apartment beneath her. They were a few years
older than her, and appeared to have a great deal more experience
with men than she did, but they were both funny and
lively and Beth was very glad she had made two new friends.
The conversation that day had been about lines men
used to get their way with girls. Amy recalled that her first
sweetheart had said, 'I won't get you in the family way,' and
Kate said hers had tried to blackmail her with 'You would
if you really loved me.'
Beth thought Amy would find it very funny that Jack had
turned the old line around.
But then Jack was a real treasure. He never complained
about anything, not about his work, his living conditions, or
her holding him at arm's length. Always an optimist, he could see the funny side of everything. He made Beth laugh,
she could tell him anything, and she trusted him implicitly.
During the summer they had often taken a walk on hot
evenings down to the East River to try to get some cooler
air. Neither of them had been prepared for how hot New
York could be; in Liverpool there had always been a breeze
from the sea, even on the hottest days.
They'd watch gangs of young boys diving into the murky
water, probably the only bath they ever had, for these boys
lived on the streets -- they were known as street Arabs sleeping
in doorways and foraging for food.

With an ice cream each from a stall, they would talk about
how cold it had been on deck on the ship coming over from
England.
'In the winter we'll talk about how hot it was this summer
just to warm ourselves up,' Jack would say.
It was an easy, uncomplicated relationship, for they were
the very best of friends, but Beth always felt a little nervous
when Jack began kissing her. She liked the tingly feeling she
got in her belly, the way she seemed to melt into his arms
and want to stay there for ever, but she was afraid where it
might lead.
Amy had asked her once if she loved him, and Beth
hadn't known how to reply. She looked forward to seeing
him and was always glad when he came to Heaney's on
Saturday night to watch her play. But she wasn't sure that
was what people called love. He didn't make her heart beat
any faster, nor had she gone off her food, the way it was in
romantic books.

Jack was in the bar when Beth came out of the back room
to play her final set on Saturday night. It was raining outside
and he must have only just come in, for even across the big
room she could see how wet his hair was. She waved before
she jumped up on the stage to join the pianist.
She always enjoyed the last set on Saturday night. The
crowd were mellow with drink, they hadn't got to work the
next day, and they showed their appreciation with loud
clapping and stamping. She'd also come to love having
Amos playing with her. He was a negro from Louisiana, and
he could play the piano like no one else she'd ever heard.
Once they got going they fed off each other and took the
tunes to new realms.
That night was even better than usual. The audience

I



cheered, clapped and hollered at every number, and Beth
felt she had them eating out of her hand. She had difficulty
ending it, for they kept calling for an encore. She did one,
then another, before they finally let her go.
As she elbowed her way through the crowd towards the
door to the back room where she'd left her coat, someone
caught hold of her elbow.
To her astonishment it was the handsome man from the
ship who had been with the married woman.
'Miss Discretion didn't tell me she was a fiddle player,' he
said.
In the first week or so after arriving in New York, Beth
had wondered what happened between him and Clarissa,
but she certainly hadn't expected ever to see him again. But
there he was, his English voice a reminder of home, and his
appearance even more striking than it had been on their
first meeting. He was wearing a sharply tailored dark green
jacket and beneath it a fancy embroidered waistcoat.
What on earth's brought you here?' she asked.
'I'm on business,' he said, but the way he glanced towards
the back room, where she knew Heaney held card games,
suggested what his business was. 'How did you come to be
working for Heaney?'
'My brother and I just came in here and asked for work,'
she replied, and pointed out Sam behind the bar. 'We've
been here for six months now.'
All at once Jack was pushing his way through the crowd.
'Sam asked me to take you home tonight,' he said with a
wide smile. 'He's got to work late.'
'Fine.' Beth acknowledged him with a nod, but looked
back at the man from the boat. 'What happened with
Clarissa?'
He shrugged. 'It sort of fi2zled out once we landed.'

Beth could see Jack was growing edgy and she really
didn't know why she wanted to hold this man's attention a
little longer anyway. 'I've got to go,' she said. 'Mr Heaney
doesn't like me talking to his customers.'
'It was good to see you again,' he said holding out his
hand. 'Especially to find you were so talented.'
She put her hand in his and the touch of his skin on hers
sent a shiver down her spine. 'And to see you. Good luck
at the game tonight.'

¦Who was that man?' Jack asked as they walked to Houston
Street. The heavy rain had emptied the streets of people and
their footsteps sounded very loud.
'Just a man who was on the ship.'
'I never saw him.'
'He was in first class. We spoke once when I was on
deck,' she replied.
'So what would a toff be going in Heaney's for?'
Beth stopped short and pulled on Jack's arm till he was
facing her. 'Gambling?' she suggested sarcastically. 'But he
was as surprised to see me again as I was to see him. I don't
know anything about him, not even his name, so don't get
jealous.'
'I wasn't,' he retorted indignantly. 'It just looked as if
there was something between you.'
'Nothing more than surprise,' she said shortly.

'Can I come in for a little while?' Jack asked as they got to
her house.
'No, it's too late,' Beth said, taking her fiddle case from him.
'I'd be really quiet,' he said.
He had that boyish, eager look which usually made her
smile, but for some reason it made her cross this time.

'It isn't that I'm afraid of you making a noise,' she said
impatiently. 'It's how it looks after one in the morning. And
Sam not being around.'

Sam still didn't entirely approve of her friendship with
Jack, but it suited him to tolerate it, for Jack walking Beth
home at night meant he didn't have to worry about her. He
wouldn't even know if Jack came up for a while because he
often stayed out all night himself.

'I only wanted to cuddle and kiss you,'Jack said dejectedly.
'It's too cold and wet to do that out here. You must know
I'd never try to make you do anything you weren't happy
about.'

Beth moved closer to him and kissed him on the lips.
The gas street light made his face seem even more angular,
his scar more livid, and gave his skin a sinister yellow tinge.
She felt no desire for him at all and that made her feel bad
about herself. 'I know that, I'm just tired and a bit grumpy,
and you're very wet, so go on home.'

'I love you, Beth,' he said, catching hold of her face
between his two hands. 'I think I fell for you the moment
I first saw you. Don't you feel the same?'

He couldn't have picked a worse moment to tell her he
loved her, and instead of being touched, she felt irritated. If
she said no he'd be deeply hurt, but if she said yes she might
be starting something she was likely to regret.

'This isn't the time, Jack,' she said wearily.

He took a step back. Rain was shining on his face and
hair and his mouth was set in a hurt, straight line. 'There
isn't going to be a time for us, is there?'

He turned and walked away then, not even glancing back
to see if she was watching him.
Chapter Fourteen

When Beth woke up on Sunday morning to find it was still
raining just as heavily as it had been the previous evening,
her first thought was of Jack. Since she and Sam moved into
Houston Street, he'd always come round here on Sundays
to take her out somewhere.
She pulled back the dividing curtain, only to find Sam's
bed hadn't been slept in again. All at once she realized how
dependent she'd become on Jack's company and how lonely
it would be without him. Knowing he'd be too bruised to
come calling today, or any day, unless she apologized and
told him she loved him, she pulled the covers up tightly to
her neck and tried to go back to sleep.
Sam didn't arrive back until two and was very surprised
to find her still in bed.
'Are you ill?' he asked, sitting down beside her.
Beth told him about Jack. 'There just didn't seem to be
anything to get up for,' she finished.
'If you do really care for him then you'd better get round
to his place and make it up with him,' Sam said, rubbing his
stubbly chin. 'But it's always been my view you could do
very much better than him.'
Beth sat up and glowered at her brother. 'Just tell me
how I'll meet someone suitable. Heaney never lets me
talk to anyone. You never introduce me to any of your
friends. And it wouldn't be right to go round to Jack's and
give him false hope just because I don't want to be on
my own.'

Sam looked thoughtful. 'Practically every man that comes
into Heaney's would like a chance to meet you. But none
of them are good enough for you either.'
'Why should you decide that?' she snapped. 'I bet whoever
you were with last night isn't right for you either, but that
doesn't seem to bother you.'
'It's different for men.'
'Well, I don't see why it should be,' she said indignantly.
'If I can perform in one of the busiest saloons in New York,
I don't see why I can't mix with anyone I choose to.'
Sam just looked at her for a moment. 'Get up and get
dressed, we'll go out,' he said at length. 'I don't like to see
you looking sad.'

On Monday evening when Beth went to Heaney's, she
found Jack had been in earlier and left a note for her.
She had never seen his writing before, and the childlike
print and terrible spelling were confirmation of the gulf
between their upbringings. Yet however uneducated Jack
was, his deep feelings for her shone through. He said he
would still like to be her friend and he wouldn't expect
anything else of her.
Beth was sorry she'd hurt him, and her instinct was to
write back immediately and say there would always be room
in her life for him. But she knew if she did they'd just slip
back into the old routine, and before long it would erupt
again. Perhaps it would be best to do nothing for a while.
On Tuesday at Ira's they had a big clear-out of summer
clothes. Items that were too shabby or unfashionable would
be collected by a man with a stall in Mulberry Bend, down
in Five Points. The good things were packed away in boxes
to be stored until next spring.
It was nice to be busy, and Beth reali2ed at five o'clock,

m
when she put on her coat and hat to leave, that she hadn't
thought about Jack once all day.
She had only just stepped out of the shop and closed the
door behind her when she saw the man from the ship
leaning nonchalandy against the lamp-post and grinning at
her. 'Hello, Miss Discretion!' he said.
Beth was dumbfounded to see him. But she instinctively
knew it wasn't by chance.
'How about coming and having a cup of coffee with
me?' he said. 'Unless of course you've got something better
to do?'
'But I don't even know your name,' she said.
'Well, that's easy enough to fix.' He grinned. 'It's Theodore
Cadogan. Known to my friends as Theo.'
'Well, Mr Cadogan,' she said, suppressing the desire to
laugh that he'd had the cheek to ask around to find out
where she was. 'What makes you think I'm in the habit of
going off with men I barely know?'
'Then how can you get to know anyone? I did only
suggest coffee, not selling you to the white slave trade.'
'Who told you where I was?'
'Your brother, and I promised him as a gentleman that
my intentions were strictly honourable.'
Beth doubted his honourable intentions, but Sam must
have liked and approved of him or he wouldn't have told
him where to find her. Besides, he was so handsome and he
made her feel bubbly inside. 'Just a cup of coffee then,' she
agreed.

An hour later they were still in the coffee shop. Beth was
calling him Theo and he was calling her Beth. She had told
him of the events which led up to her coming to America,
and he had told her that his father was a wealthy landowner

in Yorkshire, but as the younger son he wouldn't inherit the
estate.
'Father wanted me to study law, but that bored me,' he
said with a theatrical yawn. 'Mother thought I should go
into the Church, but I certainly had no calling for that.
I toyed with the idea of the army too.'
'So what made you come here?' Beth asked.
He rolled his eyes in a manner that said he didn't want to
admit to the real reason.
'It was Clarissa, wasn't it?' she laughed.
He sighed. 'Not entirely. But let's just say I was duped
into believing her marriage was an unhappy one. I booked
to come on the same ship as them, imagining foolishly that
it would all work out and he'd just let her go when we got
to New York. But she was only toying with me, she never
had any intention of leaving him.'
'Oh dear, Theo,' Beth tutted, 'you must have been
destroyed.'
'Only dented, my dear,' he said with a grin. 'And once here
in the land of opportunity, I realized I'd found the perfect
outlet for my talents, and I certainly don't regret coming.'
'What are your talents?' she asked teasingly. 'That is, apart
from being something of a charmer and ladies' man?'
'I play cards rather well,' he said.
Beth laughed. 'Will that make you a fortune?'
'I hope so.' He smiled roguishly. 'It has stood me in good
stead so far.'
'If you play with men like Heaney you'll get fleeced,' she
said.
'You underestimate me, my dear,' he said. 'I intend to
own gambling places, not lose my shirt to them.'
He laughed at her look of surprise. 'And you, my pretty
little gypsy, can play your fiddle in my very first one if you

wish. I feel it was fate that we met up again, and that our
fortunes will be inextricably linked.'
Beth felt fluttery inside as his hand reached out across
the table and took hers. She thought he was going to kiss it,
but instead he turned it and studied her palm, tracing the
lines on it with his forefinger.
'There is great passion in your hand,' he said in a low
voice. 'I see strength and courage too. Money will come to
you, but love, both of men and your music, will always be
more important.'
Beth giggled. 'You sound like a gypsy now! Can you see
a husband and children?'
'Is that what you want?'
'Don't all women?'
'You are all told that is what you want from an early age,'
he said thoughtfully. 'Our society encourages that idea too
and creates no alternatives. But I think it would be such a
waste for you to marry young and spend your life bringing
up a brood of children when you have so much talent.'
He was still holding her hand, and slowly he bent his
head down and put his lips to it. Beth felt a sharp pull inside
her, a hot flush washed all over her and her skin tingled.
She had to resist the urge to reach out and run her fingers
through his hair. Instantly she recognized her feelings were
the start of passion.

Three days later, Beth was with Ira in the back room of the
shop where they repaired and laundered clothes, when Ira
asked the name of the man Beth was seeing.
'I know you are seeing someone,' she said, looking sharply
at Beth. 'You've been lost in a daydream since Wednesday.'
Beth lifted the flat iron from the top of the stove and
spat on it to see if it was hot enough to iron the white

I



cotton petticoat. She didn't want to answer Ira's question;
she felt if she voiced anything about Theo, especially her
feelings towards him, it might jinx everything.

He had asked her to supper when they eventually came
out of the coffee shop, and much later he had walked her
home to Houston Street. It was a cold evening and the
street was deserted, just a handful of young men standing
around the grog shop on the corner.
'I suppose you live somewhere smart?' she said as they
came to a stop outside her place.
'Not really,' he said, and reached out to caress her cheek.
'Don't be embarrassed by being poor, Beth. The will to
succeed is always strongest when you have the least.'
His hand on her cheek made that strange pulling feeling
in her belly return. She wanted him to kiss her so badly that
she felt faint with it. She didn't even care who saw her.
'Will I see you again?' she asked weakly, knowing that
was too forward but unable to stop herself.
He kissed her then, as though it was his answer to her
question. His lips touched hers, so gently at first, awakening
every nerve ending in her body. Then, just as she was aching
for something stronger, his arms went around her tightly,
the tip of his tongue insinuated its way into her mouth, and
she seemed to erupt inside.
She couldn't help but press herself closer to him; his kiss
was so thrilling that her body was acting on its own volition.
She could feel her nipples hardening and a kind of throbbing
in her private parts, and she shamelessly slid her tongue into
his mouth too.
It was he who extricated himself first. 'You kiss as beautifully
as you play the fiddle,' he said softly. 'You'd make any
man lose his head.'

Then he said he had to go and she remained there on
the doorstep dizzy with desire, watching him walk back
down the street. He moved with the grace of a panther,
straight-backed, chin up. As he got to the street light on the
corner he turned and waved and she felt her heart might
burst.
Sleep eluded her that night, for she relived that kiss over
and over again until her body was on fire. She was reminded
of a neighbour's cat back in Liverpool that lay writhing on
its back out in the backyard, making an odd, crying sound.
Her mother had said it was in season and she threw a bucket
of water over it to make it go away, for two torn cats were
sitting on the wall watching the display. Mama said she
didn't want any of that nastiness in her backyard. Beth
hadn't understood the significance of how the female cat
was behaving then, but she did now.
Since she was old enough to be curious about love,
marriage and having children, she'd been led to believe that
it was men who got the pleasure and women tolerated the
act for their sake. Even pragmatic Miss Clarkson hadn't
suggested otherwise. Her mother's dying confession was the
first inkling Beth had that perhaps women could want or
need sex, but she had been too horrified by the consequences
of that illicit affair to have any sympathy.

'Not answering my question won't deter me,' Ira said,
coming closer and putting one hand on Beth's shoulder.
'It's quite normal for a girl of your age to fall in love, but I
know it isn't Jack you are mooning over. So who is this new
man, and where did you meet him?'
'He's called Theodore Cadogan and I met him coming
over on the ship,' Beth said somewhat reluctantly. 'I only
spoke to him once then because he was in first class.


But I ran into him again last week in Heaney's and when
I came out of here on Tuesday evening he was waiting
for me.'
'So he's a gentleman?'
Beth nodded glumly.
'What was he doing in Heaney's then?'
Beth sighed; she had seen that question coming. 'He had
gone there for a card game.'
Ira sucked in her cheeks. 'A gambler, eh! Well, they are
usually very entertaining, I'll give you that. But you keep
your head, girl, I wouldn't want to see you led astray.'
'I really like him,' Beth said weakly.
Ira looked hard at her until Beth blushed. 'I see,' she said
at length. 'He's stirred up feelings you don't understand. Is
that it?'
Beth just looked at her feet.
Ira laughed. 'You've been told good girls don't have those
kind of feelings, I suppose? Well, that's plain daft, there'd
be precious few babies come into this world if that was the
case! I'll tell how I see it, there aren't women who like it and
another bunch who don't, there are just women who've got
good lovers and ones who haven't.'
'He isn't my lover,' Beth exclaimed, alarmed that Ira
would even think such a thing. 'I've only spent one evening
with him.'
Ira chuckled. 'If he can make you feel that way in one
chaste evening I'd say you'd better not chance being alone
with him, unless of course you want to find out what a good
lover can do for a woman.'
Beth squirmed with embarrassment, making Ira laugh
louder. 'I know there's plenty who will tell you that you
must have a ring on your finger before you try the goods.
But I was always glad I tried out my Gunter before marriage.'

'I may never see him again anyway,' Beth said in an
attempt to wrap up this conversation which she was finding
excruciatingly embarrassing.
'I'm sure you will,' Ira said. 'Not just for your looks or
your curvy body, but your gaiety, brains, manner and your
fiddle-playing. You are quite a prize, my dear. But you've
got to protect yourself. Don't believe everything he tells
you, don't loan him any money, don't expect him to marry
you, and get some advice about how to stop yourself having
a baby. That's been the ruin of many a good woman.'
'I wouldn't do that,' Beth said in horror. 'Risk having a
baby, I mean.'
'Don't be so sure.' Ira patted her cheek affectionately. 'In
my experience when a woman is physically attracted to a
man, she loses her common sense.'

Beth had to play that evening, and Heaney got a cab to take
her home as Sam was working late. She woke on Saturday
morning from a dream about Theo, and that made her start
worrying about what Ira had said on the subject.
She pulled back the curtain slightly between her and Sam's
beds. To her disappointment it was empty once again, and
the day loomed ahead of her devoid of any company.
When she heard Amy's voice out on the stairs a couple
of hours later, Beth called down to ask if she'd like to come
up for some tea.
Amy was second-generation American, of Dutch descent,
but she'd left the family farm in Connecticut because her
father was angry with her for walking out with someone he
disapproved of. She had told Beth ruefully that the man in
question wouldn't run away with her, and she'd arrived in
New York alone. But she appeared to have done all right
for herself: she and her friend Kate were always going out,

they had nice clothes and they were happy and friendly.
Beth often felt a little envious of them as they seemed to
have far more fun than she did.
'Tea! Just what I could do with, it's like a crazy house
down there,' Amy said as she came into Beth's room. She
looked like a farm girl, tall, with broad shoulders and a wide,
flat-featured face and flaxen hair. 'They've got even more
of their family in now! I ask you, how can six people share
one small room? As for getting into the kitchen . . . I'
Amy was referring to the Irish family who had a room in
her apartment. There had been two adults and two children
from the start, but with another two moving in it had
become impossibly crowded. As Amy already shared her
small room with Kate, and there were five people in the
third room in the apartment, Beth could guess how difficult
it was to get into the shared kitchen.
Amy flopped down on Sam's bed and while Beth poured
their tea, she ranted for a while about her neighbours. She
suspected one of the Irish family was pouring slops down
the sink. She said they took her food, and there was always
a child crying. 'I've got to find somewhere else to live,' she
finished up. 'It's unbearable.'
Beth felt a great deal of sympathy for Amy and Kate, and
she was very aware how lucky she and Sam were to have to
share only with the Rossinis, who were middle-aged, quiet,
clean and good-natured.
But Amy was never one to dwell on her own problems
for more than a minute or two. By the time she'd drunk her
tea she was making Beth laugh with a story about the grocer
round the corner who had been caught with another woman
by his wife.
'Where's Sam?' she asked a little later. 'I hardly ever see
him these days. Has he got a lady friend?'

'I expect so,' Beth said. 'But he hasn't told me anything
about her.'
'She's a lucky lady, whoever she is,' Amy said with a
sparkle in her eye. 'He's real handsome.'
'If he's not careful he'll find himself having to get married,'
Beth retorted.
'I'm sure he knows how to prevent that.'
'Can you prevent it?' Beth asked innocently.
'Of course, you silly goose.' Amy laughed.
'How?'
'Some men, the more thoughtful ones, withdraw in time,'
Amy said airily. 'But I wouldn't trust any of them to do that.
They can use a sheath too, but they can split and men don't
like them. But most women I know use a douche afterwards.
Or there's a little sponge that you pop in before you get
going.'
Beth had got to like Amy in the first place because she
was so direct and open, but she blushed with embarrassment
at these intimate revelations. 'How do you know all this?'
she asked.
When Amy's expression tightened, and she didn't come
back with one of her usual quips, Beth felt she had to
apologize. 'I didn't mean to be nosy, I won't ask you anything
more.'
Amy looked back at her and sighed. 'I wish I'd had
someone when I was your age to ask such things. But I
didn't, so I got pregnant.'
'What did you do?' Beth asked in a scandalized whisper.
'An old woman in the know got rid of it for me,' Amy
admitted. 'It was soon after I got to New York. It was
terrible. I thought I was going to die.'
'That surely must have put you off men?'
The older girl chuckled. 'Sure, for a while, but then I met

another charmer. Only before I let him get anywhere near
me, I got some advice from one of the girls at Rosie's.'
Beth's eyes widened with shock because she'd overheard
some men in Heaney's talking about Rosie's, and it was a
brothel.
'Don't look like that,' Amy reproved her. 'Not many of
us have got a talent like your fiddle-playing to keep us. For
some of us it's the only way we can keep a roof over our
head. I soon wised up to that and went to work at Rosie's.'
Beth could hardly believe what Amy had just admitted.
She had never asked her friend what she did for, a living;
she just assumed she worked in a store for her clothes were
smart.
'Don't tell me you didn't know?' Amy threw back her
head and laughed at Beth's shocked expression. 'I thought
someone must've told you by now!'
'I don't really talk to anyone but you,' Beth said feebly. 'I
would never have guessed. I mean, you're so nice.'
'Whores can be as nice as anyone else,' Amy said with a
touch of acid in her voice. 'We don't advertise what we do
by walking around half naked with our faces painted either.'
'I didn't mean it like that,' Beth said quickly. 'I meant
I thought you worked in a store or a restaurant.'
Amy rolled her eyes skywards. 'Honey, I thought working
at Heaney's would've opened your eyes! Few of us girls set
out to be whores, but when you're hungry and you ain't got
no place to call home, it ain't so bad to take a few dollars
for givin' a man a bit of lovin'. Why would I be a maid, or
work in a store for five or six dollars a week when I can
make that much with one trick?'
Beth was floored. It did of course make sense of why
Amy seemed to know so much about men, and indeed why
she was often home during the day. She was trying to

find something to say that wouldn't sound patronizing or
disapproving when Sam arrived home, and Amy immediately
got to her feet and said she had to go.
Not wishing to let Amy think she was too prim and
proper to deal with such a revelation, Beth went to the door
with her. 'I'm sorry,' she said. 'You just took me aback.'
Amy put her hand on Beth's shoulder. 'I guess you're still
a greenhorn. You see, I thought you knew and I was so glad
that you liked me despite it, but I guess that's the end of us
being pals?'
'Not at all,' Beth said, and meant it. 'I like you even more
for being honest with me. I just feel a bit foolish that I
hadn't guessed before. But you've given me an awful lot to
think about.'
'Quit thinking and have a lot more fun,' Amy said with a
wide grin. 'Your brother's got the right idea.'
She was gone before Beth could ask her exactly what she
meant by that.

Some little time later Beth was making tea and a sandwich
for Sam before he left for work when she heard a strange
swishing noise coming from their room. She hadn't questioned
where he'd been all night, because he'd been washing
and shaving, and anyway her mind had been on the things
Amy had told her.
But as their room door was partly open she put her head
round it to see what the noise was. To her surprise he was
sitting at the little table by the window, playing with a deck
of cards. As she watched, he shuffled them, then did what
looked like elaborate tricks with them, swishing them into a
row upon the table, each one partially overlapping the next.
'What's that?' she asked.
'Just practising,' he said without turning his head, and

flicking the row of cards so that they all turned over together.
'Is it a trick?'
'No. Just stuff a dealer does. I'm not fast or slick enough
yet. But I'm nearly there.'
'Why would you want to do that?' she said, coming right
into the room.
He put the cards down and looked up at her. 'Because
I want to be a dealer. I want to learn everything about
gambling, poker, roulette, faro and all the rest.'
Beth felt her little world had just turned upside down.
First she found her only girlfriend was a whore, and now
Sam was talking about becoming a gambler.
She could accept that Theo gambled -- for gentlemen it
was part of their way of life. But Sam had been brought up
warned about the evils of it. Their father wouldn't even put
a shilling on a horse, for he always said it was a slippery
slope.
'I want to work in gambling houses, not to throw my
money away in them,' he said, giving her a sharp look as if
daring her to disapprove. 'There's good money to be made
in them; the house never loses.'
'Has Heaney got anything to do with this?' she asked.
'No more than seeing how much he makes from the
games at his place,' Sam retorted. 'That's why I have to stay
late - he gets me to serve drinks to the players. I've been
watching them closely.'
Beth slumped down on to his bed. She felt panicked for
suddenly everything seemed threatening.
'What's wrong?' he asked. 'Oh, for God's sake don't go
all holy on me, Beth! Gambling is big over here, people
don't think badly about it, so why should we?'
'Don't you ever get afraid about losing the values we used
to have?' she asked.

'That we had to remember our place? To kowtow to the
gentry? To be poor but honest? You tell me, Beth, why
shouldn't we be rich? Is it written in the stars that because
our father was a shoemaker, we shouldn't aspire to more
than that?'

'I suppose I'm scared we're getting corrupted,' she said
weakly. 'You know very well, even if you won't admit it,
that we're bound to Heaney, and he isn't a good man.'

'I know he's using us, but we can use him too, Beth.
You're gaining experience and practice while you play for
him, and I'm learning all about gambling. When the time is
right we take all that experience and move on, out of New
York and on to Philadelphia, Chicago or even San Francisco.
We came here for adventure and to make our fortune, and
that's just what we're going to do.'

"You won't just go off one day without me, will you?' she
asked fearfully.

Sam moved over to sit beside her on the bed and hugged
her tightly. 'Beth, you are the only person in this whole
world I really care about. You're not just my sister, you're
my dearest friend. I will never go anywhere without you.'

Sam had never been one for flowery speeches, and knowing
he meant what he said made Beth burst into tears.

'Don't cry, sis,' he whispered, stroking her hair. 'We've
done just fine so far, and we can do better still.'
Chapter Fifteen

After Sam had told her of his aspirations to run a gambling
house, Beth sat by the window looking at the view of the
rooftops and the grey sky above them, thinking of all the
people she knew back in Liverpool. She wondered what
they would make of how she and Sam were living.
She had written to the Langworthys every two weeks
since they arrived here, and she knew that she was guilty of
adding a kind of glossy veneer to everything. She used the
word 'hotel' rather than 'rooming house', she described
Central Park and Fifth Avenue rather than the Lower East
Side. While she hadn't exactly told lies, she had created an
image of Heaney's as a select establishment and implied that
Ira's shop just sold clothes, not second-hand ones. She'd
jubilantly announced their move into the apartment, but
failed to add they had only one shared room.
Her justification for her omissions had been that everyone
back home would be distressed if she described the poverty
she lived amidst, and be worried for her safety if she was a
little more frank about Heaney's. But now she was seeing
all those people she cared about in her mind's eye, she felt
they would be even more alarmed by the changes in her and
Sam than by how they lived.
They certainly wouldn't approve of her flaunting herself
in scarlet satin, or that she had a few tots of rum most nights
she played at Heaney's. They'd be appalled that she'd made
friends with a whore, and that the man she wanted was a
womanizer.

As for Sam, they'd be shocked that he stayed out all night,
and planned to have his own gambling house. Mrs Bruce
would be opening her bottle of smelling salts!
It made Beth sad to think she was leading the kind of life
her old friends would never approve of, yet she had no
intention of returning to being an overworked but virtuous
laundry maid. Every time she got up on that stage she felt
like a bird being set free from a cage, and she loved being
admired and applauded.
The only part of her old life she really missed was Molly.
That was a dull ache inside her which never went away. Yet
at the same time she was very glad her little sister was safe
in England for this was no place for a small child.
Beth turned away from the window and looked objectively
at the room. It struck her that the decorative touches
she'd added to it represented how things really were. The
blue counterpane which acted as a curtain between hers and
Sam's beds was tied back for now with a red velvet ribbon
to give it a semblance of elegance; the theatre posters hid
the stained walls; the brightly coloured dresses she wore in
Heaney's were a decoration too, and every week she bought
a bunch of flowers to make the room seem more homely.
But these were like the veneer in her letters home. They
only masked the fact that the place was grim.
It struck her that Sam, with his sensitive nature, had
probably been aware of this from the day they moved in.
Maybe that was why he was so dead set on becoming rich,
so that they wouldn't have to pretend any more or be
ashamed of anything.
Beth didn't hanker after very much more than she had
now, just a quieter place, a room of her own and a real bath.
But then, she did want to go home one day to see Molly,
and she certainly didn't want to go back like a poor relation.

So maybe she ought to start thinking ahead and planning,
like Sam was doing.
That night she played better than she'd ever played before.
Her whole body seemed to be overtaken by the music, and
she danced around the stage, whipping up the crowd to a
near frenzy. The applause was deafening, no one wanted
her to stop, and Pat Heaney had to get up on the stage to
bring it to an end.
'Ain't our little gypsy swell?' he shouted out to the crowd.
'She'll be back on Monday night for you again, so make sure
you don't miss her.'
He came out into the back room to bring her money as
she was mopping the sweat from her face and neck. "You
were great tonight,' he said with far more warmth than he
usually displayed. 'You've come on a treat since you started
here.'
He held out her money and she saw that it was around
seven dollars. But she had seen dozens of dollar bills fluttering
into the hat.
'I think then that's it's time you began paying me better,'
she said impulsively. 'Or at least give me the hat to count
up the money myself.'
His smile vanished and Beth felt a pang of fear.
'Why, you ungrateful little bitch!' he exclaimed. 'Are you
saying I'm cheating you? I took you on when no one else
would.'
Beth knew this was a decisive moment. She must either
back down or fight back. She was very afraid; his cold eyes
and that fearsome scar told her that he was too dangerous
to take chances with. But she had played her heart out and
something deep inside her told her she must stick up for
herself or go under his heel.
'You were the first person I approached to play,' she said

defiantly. 'And right from the first night here there were
plenty of others who'd take me on. As for cheating me, well,
I know you've done that from the start. You never give me
half of what's in the hat.'
'I did you a favour,' he roared at her.
'No you didn't, you did yourself one,' she said, sticking
her chin out. 'More people come in when I'm playing, and
they stay and get drunk. It doesn't cost you a dime to have
me here, and the customers put that money in the hat for
me because they have enjoyed my music. So you're cheating
them too by keeping it.'
'Do you know what happens to people who cross me?'
he said, pushing his face right up to hers, so close she could
smell his whisky breath.
'I haven't crossed you,' she said. 'But if you call leaving
here and going to work in another saloon crossing you, then
I shall do that unless I get what I'm due.'
She could see he was tempted to strike her, his hand
holding her money was tightening into a fist, but she stood
her ground even though she was afraid.
He let out a foul stream of expletives, but Beth reached
for her coat and put it on. 'You've got just one minute to
make that up to fifteen dollars,' she said, looking at the
money still in his hand. 'Or I walk out and never come
back.'
'I won't keep your brother on if you do that,' he said, his
eyes narrowing like a snake's.
'Then you're a bigger fool than I took you for,' she said
tartly. "Where are you going to get another honest barman
like him?'
His fist came up, but Beth was growing so angry now
that she slapped it away. 'You hit me and I'll go and work
in the saloon right next door just to spite you,' she hissed at

him. 'Sam would never work for you again either. Your
minute is up now. Either give me the fifteen dollars or step
out of my way.'
She knew she had won when he reached into his pocket,
brought out a roll of bills and peeled some off for her. In a
strange way she was disappointed, for he had just proved
how valuable she was to him, and now she couldn't walk
out and work for someone else she would like and trust.
'I want to count the hat money myself from now on,' she
warned him. 'I'll give you half because that's what I agreed,
but try to cheat me again and I'm off'
She flounced past him into the bar and made her way
over to Sam. 'Be careful what you say to him tonight,' she
whispered. 'I've just had a spat with him.'
Sam looked worried and glanced over towards the back
room. 'He wants me to stay late for cards. Is he going to
get you a cab?'
'I'll see she gets home,' a familiar voice spoke up just
behind her. 'That is, of course, if Beth's agreeable!'
Beth spun round. 'Theo!' she exclaimed, unable to hide
her joy.

As the cab jogged home to Houston Street, Beth told Theo
the bare bones of what had been said.
'Of course you were right to stand up for yourself,' he
said. 'And very brave. But Heaney is a vindictive man, Beth,
I've heard many stories about him.'
'He won't hurt Sam, will he?' she asked fearfully.
'I don't think so, he needs him. I doubt he'd dare try to
do anything to you either, there are too many customers
who would string him up if he did. But both of you must
be on your guard with him. It would be as well to try to
butter him up a bit when you work next.'

'I'm not doing that,' she said indignantly.
'My dear,' Theo sighed, 'take a tip from me. Always
disarm your enemies with charm, it works far better than
fists, guns or knives.'
As the cab drew up to Beth's house, Theo took her
hand. 'I'm going back there now, but may I take you out
somewhere tomorrow?'
Beth beamed, her altercation with Heaney all but wiped
out by Theo's request.
'I'd love that,' she said.
'Then I'll be round for you at one,' he said. 'Now, how
about one of those lovely kisses?'

It was pitch dark on the stairs as always. The only gas light
was by the front door, and that had been turned off long
ago. Beth felt as though she'd been bewitched as she groped
her way up the four nights. She was on fire from Theo's
kiss, her heart racing, and out of breath from the climb. She
stumbled several times when she missed her footing, but
the excitement she felt because she would be seeing Theo
the following day banished any thought of the scene earlier
with Heaney.
Once in her room and the oil lamp lit, she slumped down
on her bed, still panting. Theo wanted her, and that was all
that mattered.

'You look very lovely, Beth,' Theo said as he jumped out of
his cab to greet her the following day. 'I hope you haven't
been waiting out here in the cold for long?'
'Oh no, I only came downstairs just now,' she lied. She
had in fact been waiting on the doorstep for over twenty
minutes, too afraid to stay upstairs in case he walked into
the house through the ever open front door and saw,


heard and smelled how grubby, noisy and smelly the
place was.
She wished she'd had more notice that he was going to
take her out, because then she could have got something
new to wear from Ira's shop. As it was, she had to wear the
same old brown coat, but she had borrowed a fox fur collar
and hat from Amy to give it a lift. The dress beneath it was
a dark violet-coloured crepe with a wide cream lace collar
and cuffs, but it wasn't very fashionable for it had been a
hand-me-down from Mrs Langworthy.
'I thought I'd take you up to Central Park,' Theo said as
he helped her into the cab. 'The trees should be beautiful
in their autumn colours, and later we'll go to a restaurant I
know near there.'

Beth hadn't been to Central Park since August, when the
grass was brown from lack of rain. That day even the leaves
of the trees had hung limply with a coating of dust. But it
looked beautiful again now, the grass a lush green and
the trees a blaze of yellow, russet, gold and brown in the
sunshine.
Arm in arm, they walked around the lake, and Theo told
her he'd had a big win the previous night at Heaney's. 'I
won't be going back there for a while,' he said. 'Heaney's a
nasty piece of work and I wouldn't put it past him to pay
someone to attack and rob me as I leave his place. He knows
I took you home last night too, so if he asks you anything
about me, just say you hardly know me, that we only met
once on the ship coming here.'
'That is all I could say,' she said impishly. 'I don't know
anything much about you.'
He laughed. 'And I intend to rectify that today. Now,
what would you like to know?'

They sat on a bench by the lake and he told her about
his parents, older brother, two younger sisters and their
home.
Beth had a picture in her mind of a mansion surrounded
by farmland with a tree-lined avenue leading up to it. He'd
been educated first at home with a governess, later at boarding
school. His father ran the farm himself and Theo
described him as a bluff, opinionated and selfish man who
had no time for anyone who wasn't as strong, or didn't ride
or shoot as well, as he did.
'It was fortunate I could ride and shoot as well, if not
better, than him,' Theo said with a grin. 'But that didn't make
up for my lack of interest in farming, and my reputation as
a ladies' man. He blamed Mother for both, but then he
blamed her for almost everything.'
He said his mother was a loving but rather fragile woman
who was unable to stand up to her overbearing husband.
His older brother was like his father and Theo felt he had
nothing in common with either of them. He did have a great
deal of affection for his younger sisters, but said despairingly
that they were like their mother, indecisive, weak and without
any opinions of their own, so he thought they were
destined to marry men just like his father.
'I'm the odd one out,' he said with a shrug. 'I always
wanted more than was offered -- excitement, colour and new
experiences. The thought of living the kind of sedate life my
father approved of, which inevitably would mean marrying
someone appropriate, filled me with horror. I want adventure,
and when I marry it will be an adventure too, to
someone with a mind of her own, passionate, with a sense
of fun. I never want my children to suffer the kind of chilly
formality I grew up in.'
Beth secretly thought that woman sounded like her,

but she kept that opinion to herself and told him instead
how she had been destined to be the dutiful stay-at-home
daughter, until her parents' deaths pushed her into a different
kind of servitude.
She said her father had a heart attack and that her mother
died in childbirth with Molly, but passed on quickly to how
she went to work for the Langworthys, lightening the story
by making it clear how good her mistress was to her.
'My heart wasn't really in leaving England,' she admitted.
'But it was for the best, and Mrs Langworthy writes every
few weeks to tell me how Molly is getting on.'
"You're a very courageous girl,' Theo said thoughtfully.
'Not many could cope with so much while so young. I'm
sure your parents would have been very proud of you.'
Beth laughed. 'I'm not so sure they'd have approved of
me playing my fiddle in a saloon.'
"You are using a God-given talent, and you are making
a great many people happy by doing so. To me that is
commendable.'
'I used to dream of playing the piano in a smart hotel
lounge,' she admitted. 'I certainly didn't think I'd end up
living in a stinking tenement, or working for a thug.'
Theo shook his head in amusement. You'll be moving
on upwards soon. Sam told me last night of his plans to
work in gambling houses. I believe he can do it too - he's
sharp, he's got charm and he's got you beside him. I'd bet
on you two making a fortune.'
You need money to begin.' Beth sighed.
'Not always.' Theo smiled and tickled her under the chin.
'Charm and a good idea will always get backers. I have a
disreputable uncle who it is said I take after. He told me
once, never put your own money into a business venture.
He has lived by that and amassed a fortune.'

'What are your plans?' she asked.
'For now, to see how much money I can win in New
York, while I keep my ears open for a whisper about the
next boom town.'
'Boom town?' Beth exclaimed. 'What do you mean?'
Theo sucked in his cheeks. 'Like San Francisco in '49, for
instance. It was a small fishing village until gold was found
nearby. Then tens of thousands stampeded to get there, and
fortunes were made.'
'Not many of them found gold,' Beth said, remembering
that from a history lesson.
'The smart people don't go for whatever has created the
stampede, be that gold, diamonds or silver,' he said with a
chuckle. 'It's always very hard work, and only a few strike it
rich. The really clever people, the ones like you and me, go
there to offer services, shops, saloons, hotels, restaurants,
dance and music halls.'
Beth giggled. 'And I play the fiddle in one of these places
and they toss gold nuggets at me?'
'Exactly.' He smiled. 'It certainly wouldn't be any fun for
them being rich unless they can spend it wildly.'
'But surely all the gold, diamonds and silver have been
found now?' Beth said.
'Not necessarily. Parts of America are still virtual wilderness,
and who knows what's under the ground? But boom
towns can spring up for other reasons too. The railway, for
instance - wherever that goes people will want houses, shops
and the rest.'
'And gambling houses?' she asked, raising one eyebrow
quizzically.
He smiled, a hint of mischief in his dark eyes. 'And
gambling houses.'
'Well, if you get word of one of these boom towns,


you make sure you tell Sam and me. We'd be glad to tag
along.'
Theo had been sitting with his arm along the back of the
seat, and he suddenly moved it to her shoulders. 'I can't
think of two people better suited to join me,' he said. 'Sam
promises to be a force to reckon with because he's so
determined. As for you, with your fiddle, you'd be an asset
anywhere.'
Beth thought he was going to kiss her, but he must've
remembered it wasn't done to embrace a young woman in
public, for Theo suddenly said it was getting cold and it was
time they found a coffee shop and got warmed up.
As they walked out of the park, Beth thought how perfect
he was -- handsome, a gentleman and so entertaining too.
Jack had been fun to be with, but in comparison to Theo
he was just a boy, with no finesse or education. When he
took her hand it was awkwardly, he lunged at her for a kiss,
and he certainly didn't have the ability to say or do things
which would make a girl tremble and shiver.
When Theo took her hand his thumb would caress hers;
if he put his hand on her waist he gave it a little squeeze.
They found a little coffee shop just across the road from the
park and once they had sat down he took her hand and
lifted her fingers to his mouth, not just to kiss them, but to
give each one a delicate lick with the tip of his tongue.

'I want to kiss your mouth but this will have to do for
now,' he whispered.
It was the unexpectedness of his little touches and compliments
which made them so thrilling.
He was talking about the plight of some immigrants who
hadn't been able to find anywhere to live and had been
caught a few days earlier trying to camp out under the
bushes in Central Park, but he suddenly broke off to smooth

away a strand of hair escaping from beneath her hat. 'Your
eyes are like deep forest pools,' he said, then carried on with
what he'd been talking about before.
He slid one finger up under the sleeve of her coat, as if
to feel her pulse, and the intimacy of it made her blush.
'Your skin is as soft and smooth as a baby's,' he whispered.
When she dropped her teaspoon to the floor because he
made her flustered, he reached down to get it and he put
his hand on her leg, just above her ankle boot.
But it wasn't only his touch that set her on fire, it was the
way he spoke too. His voice was deep, but soft and cultured,
and almost everything he told her, whether it was about his
life back in England or the people he'd met since he'd been
in America, he made so vivid that she could see it clearly.
'Miss Marchment, my landlady, is living in greatly reduced
circumstances,' he told her. 'She has the air of a duchess
even though she's old and frail and has nothing coming in
other than the rent for the rooms she lets out. She sits all
day in a purple velvet chair worn thin with age, a lacy shawl
around her shoulders, and gives her orders to her maid as
if she were still in control of a staff of twenty. The house is
crumbling with neglect, the rugs threadbare, a thick layer of
dust on her pictures, mirrors and ornaments, but she invites
me in for tea and orders her maid to make it in the battered
silver teapot. Such a gracious old lady!'
'Does the maid clean your room for you?' Beth asked,
not liking the idea of him living in squalor.
'Yes, she does, I guess she knows that if the tenants leave
she'll get no more wages. But the poor soul has so much to
do that she just doesn't have time to clean her mistress's
rooms thoroughly.'
'Is she old too?' Beth asked.
'About fifty. She's worked for Mrs Marchment all her life.

But you don't want to hear sad stories about old ladies. Tell
me about the people in your house.'
Perhaps it was because he described people so vividly
that Beth found herself doing so too. She told him about
the crazy Irishman on the first floor who shouted out every
time someone passed his door, and the strange little Polish
man who scuttled down the street clutching a brown leather
satchel to his chest, his eyes swivelling from side to side as
if he was carrying state secrets and believed someone was
going to snatch them. Theo roared with laughter, making
several other people in the coffee shop look round at him.
'I think it's time we got some dinner,' he said, chuckling
as he took her hand again to kiss it. 'It's so good to be with
someone beautiful who also makes me laugh. Most beautiful
women, I find, have no sense of humour.'

By Thanksgiving Day in November, Beth was so deeply in
love with Theo that she could think of nothing else from
the moment she opened her eyes in the morning till she fell
asleep at night.
She felt he loved her too, even if he had never said so,
for he always made an effort to see her once a week, even
when he had to go out of New York on business. Nor had
he dropped her because she wouldn't let him have his way
with her.
He had asked if he could come up to her room the second
time they went out but she refused because she knew she
was likely to get swept away by his kisses and caresses once
they were alone.
On their third meeting he suggested taking her away to a
hotel for a night. She pretended to be affronted at the suggestion,
but in fact she was tempted, for at least her neighbours
wouldn't know what she was getting up to. But sweet

reason prevailed: she only had to think of what happened
to her mother, and she knew she couldn't take the risk, not
just of having a child, but maybe of Theo throwing her aside
once he'd got what he wanted.
Since then Theo was always saying how much he wanted
her, but although he tried plenty of gentle persuasion, he
was never forceful. And when he talked of the future, it was
as if his plans included her.

Sad as Theo's long absences made Beth, she was quite relieved
that he was still away as Thanksgiving Day approached.
Amy and Kate had decided that Beth and Sam's first Thanksgiving
in America should be marked properly and they
planned to cook them a traditional turkey dinner.
As there was so little room in their own apartment, they
had asked Beth if they could cook it in hers, and suggested
the Rossinis should be invited too. Beth asked Sam to invite
his lady friend, but his look of horror suggested he had no
intention of bringing his sweetheart to a dinner party with
two whores and an elderly Italian couple who only spoke a
smattering of English.
Yet as the day grew closer, Amy's enthusiasm for this
special meal began to win both Beth and Sam over. Sam
brought home an old door and fixed it over a couple of
trestles to make a table big enough for them all; they
borrowed chairs from different people in the house; Ira lent
them an embroidered tablecloth, and Mrs Rossini dug out
her old family recipes to cook a special dessert.
Amy and Kate surpassed themselves in cooking the meal.
By six o'clock everything was ready, the turkey a deep
golden brown and vegetables perfectly cooked. They were
all just about to take their places around the table when Jack
turned up.

Beth had seen him a few times since they split up, mostly
in Heaney's when she'd only been able to wave from a
distance, but he had come into Ira's shop a couple of times
to say hello. The first time he came she was afraid he was
pursuing her, but when he made it clear he was only being
friendly, even mentioning a girl he'd taken dancing, she was
glad they could be friends again.
'I wouldn't have come if I'd known you had company,'
he said, looked a little embarrassed. 'I brought you some
meat and some fruit.'
'It's lovely to see you and you're more than welcome to
join us,' Beth said, taking the bag from his hands. It contained
a quantity of lamb chops, some sausages, and apples
and oranges. 'Thank you so much. It's very kind of you.'
'The boss gave us all a bag of stuff for Thanksgiving,' he
said a little sheepishly. 'Too much for me to eat on my
own.'

Jack's unexpected arrival turned out to be a blessing for he
turned what might have been a dull party into a noisy, jolly
one.
He made Amy and Kate laugh a great deal, stopped Sam
from feeling awkward about having to entertain all the
women, and as he had learned quite a bit of Italian from
some of his workmates, he could include the Rossinis in the
conversation.
Beth observed that the callow youth with few social graces
she'd met on the ship had become a self-possessed and very
amusing man. Hard physical work had given him muscle,
his angular face had filled out, and the scar gave his face
extra character. He was also far more articulate than she
remembered. He told them stories about the men he worked
alongside with humour, yet they were tempered with a great

deal of understanding of the problems many of these foreign
immigrants were facing.
Beth watched him flirting with Amy and Kate and guessed
that he'd gained all this poise through women. He laughed
when she asked him if he had a sweetheart, and charmingly
said that his heart was still in her keeping. But that remark
in itself proved someone was responsible for polishing him
up. He would never have said such a thing when they were
walking out together.
Everyone had drunk rather too much wine by the end of
the evening. The Rossinis kissed them all on both cheeks
and thanked them profusely before they went off to bed.
Amy and Kate left too, and it was only when Jack remained,
sitting on Sam's bed, that Beth felt a pang of anxiety that
he was going to be difficult.
But she was wrong.
'I hope you don't think I come round tonight lookin' fer a
free feed,' he said, looking from Beth to Sam. 'It weren't that,
I came cos I heard sommat the other day what bothered me.'
'About Beth?' Sam asked.
'No, not about either of you, just about Pat Heaney.
There's trouble brewing, he's fallen out with a geezer name
of Fingers Malone. Both Fingers and Heaney have each got
a gang behind them, blokes they've bin in with since they
was young.'
Sam nodded. 'I've heard that much. I've met Fingers too
-- he used to come in the bar most nights when I first started
there.'
'Yeah, well, the word is that there's going to be some kind
of showdown soon. It won't be just a scrap between Heaney
and Fingers, it could be all-out gang war. I thought I ought
to warn you so that at the first sign of trouble you both get
out of there.'

'We'll take your advice,' Sam said a little starchily, as if he
resented Jack hearing this before he did.
'That's not all.'Jack looked sharply at Sam. 'I'm worried
about Beth's safety. She's valuable to Heaney, and Fingers
knows it. He may even think she's Heaney's woman.'
'How could anyone think that?' Beth exclaimed.
'Maybe cos Heaney's let folk think that,' Jack replied.

Jack left soon afterwards and the door was barely shut
behind him before Sam claimed he was talking nonsense.
"What does he know? This will be a half-baked rumour that
he's picked up on and he's using it to make himself look
important.'
'That's a horrible thing to say,' Beth said indignantly.
'You're just cross because Jack heard it before you. But no
one would dare tell you; you're too close to Heaney, and
they'd be afraid you'd warn him.'
The close to Heaney!' Sam snorted indignantly. 'I can't
stand him.'
'That's not the way it looks to other people. They all
know he trusts you.'
'Jack just wants to worm his way back in with us,' Sam
said scornfully. 'What better way to do it than by making
out you are in danger? Before you know it he'll be offering
to escort you home each night; he's jealous because he's
heard you're walking out with Theo.'

Beth was less concerned about gang rivalry than she was
about Theo, who was still away. Every night she played she
searched the faces in the audience, hoping he'd be there.
Sam did take the precaution of always escorting her home
in a cab after she played, even though it meant he often had
to return to the saloon afterwards to serve drinks at private

card games. But he made a point of saying it was the right
thing for a brother to do, and that it had nothing to do with
what Jack had said.
Snow fell during the night on Molly's second birthday in
mid-December, and Beth woke to find the city under a
white blanket, bringing back poignant memories of both her
sister's birth and her mother's death. She had always tried
hard not to dwell on her mother. Even when she posted a
present and a card for Molly's birthday a couple of weeks
earlier, she kept her thoughts to what her baby sister would
be like now, not how she came to be born. But with Theo
still away and no word from him, she couldn't help feeling
she'd been cast aside, just as her mother had been.

More snow came and the New York shops looked beautiful,
all decked out for Christmas. Many of the very smartest
ones had the new electric light installed, and as darkness fell
in the streets their fantastically dressed windows were ablaze
with light and colour. Even the very smallest shops and
stalls on the streets sported decorations and extra oil lamps,
there were huge Christmas trees in many of the squares, and
the air was rich with the smell of chestnuts roasting in
charcoal burners.
Beth bought presents - a royal blue woollen muffler for
Sam, scented soap for Amy and Kate, a bottle of lavender
cologne for Ira -- and hoped that the lovely red dress and
the rag doll she'd sent home to Molly would arrive in time
for Christmas. She wanted to buy a present for Theo too,
but she decided to wait a little longer, to see if he would
turn up again.
Two days before Christmas Eve, still with no word from
him, Beth was feeling very glum. The shop had been very
busy all day, and the constant cry of 'Merry Christmas' as

people left the shop made it worse for her, knowing she
had no one special to spend the day with.
Ira must have noticed that she wasn't quite herself.
'Honey, you should get Jack to take you out dancing,' she
suggested out of the blue. 'You don't want to hang around waiting for a man who can't even send you a letter when
he's away to tell you he's thinking of you.'
Beth didn't appreciate Ira making such remarks. She
sulked for a while, but by mid-afternoon she came out of it
and tried on a pretty, deep pink dress that Ira had remarked
was perfect for her.
Ira was right, and when Beth asked if she could buy it,
the old lady said she'd like to give it to her as a Christmas
present.
'You're a good girl -- I don't know how I managed before
you came,' Ira said with slightly moist eyes. 'Giving you a
dress that was made for you is the least I can do to thank
you.'
'Then I won't hang around waiting for Theo,' Beth
replied. 'I'll take up the Rossinis' invitation for Sam and me
to have Christmas dinner with them. Maybe if Jack's in at
Heaney's tonight, I'll even hint that he takes me dancing.'
It was bitterly cold when she left Ira's at five. She tucked
the parcel containing her new dress under her arm, wrapped
her muffler around her neck, and with her gloved hands in
a fur muff Ira had also given her, set off for the market to
buy some fruit, nuts and candy to share with the Rossinis.
There was a new cheeriness in people's faces as Beth
walked down the Bowery. An organ-grinder had decked out
his organ with glittery stars, and it was playing 'Silent Night',
and she saw a group of children watching in awe as a man
wound up some clockwork toys on a stall. She stopped to
look at a bear clashing cymbals and a man rowing a boat.

She considered buying the bear and sending it home to
Molly, but decided it was likely to end up broken in the
post.

She turned the corner, and after the bright lights of the
Bowery it was very dark. She was aware of someone close
behind her, but there was nothing unusual about that for it
was early in the evening.

When a hand clamped down on her shoulder, she
dropped her parcel in fright.

'Don't make a sound,' a gruff male voice warned her. 'I'veI

got a knife at your back.'

She froze, for she could feel something digging into her
coat. Her first thought was that the man wanted to rob her,
for that wasn't uncommon in this area.

'I've only got a couple of dollars,' she said. 'But you can
have that.'

'You're worth more than a couple of dollars to me,' he
said. 'Now walk, do as I say, and you'll be fine. Squeal, and
I'll stick the knife in you.'
Chapter Sixteen

'Where's that sister of yours?' Pat Heaney asked Sam. He
took his watch out of his vest pocket and looked at it.
'What's she playing at? It's nearly half past eight!'
The saloon was packed and Sam had been so busy for
the last hour that he hadn't noticed the time. But at Heaney's
words he checked the clock on the wall behind the bar. 'I
don't know where she is,' he said, immediately feeling a cold
chill run down his spine, for Beth was never late. 'She was
working at Ira's today as usual. Pebbles went in there to buy
something, he said he'd seen her.'
Pebbles was the pot man, so named because he wore
thick glasses.
'If she lets me down tonight she'll be out of a job,' Heaney
snarled.
'She wouldn't let you down,' Sam said defensively. 'Even
if she was taken ill she'd get a message to you.'
'Maybe that old crow Roebling has been taken bad,'
Heaney said. 'I'll send someone down there to ask.'
He walked away from the bar, and Sam saw him order
Pebbles to go and check.
There were men clamouring to buy a drink, and as Sam
poured their beer and took their money, he remembered
Jack's warning.
He had been convinced Jack had made up all that stuff
about Fingers Malone and Heaney as a ruse to get in with
him and Beth again. The only reason Sam had been taking

21 I
Beth home at nights was to give the man no excuse to try
to muscle in.
Yet now Jack's warning didn't seem so far-fetched, and
Sam served drinks with one eye on the door. When Pebbles
returned around ten minutes later and went over to Heaney,
Sam could wait no longer.
Leaving the bar, he pushed his way through the drinkers
towards Heaney. 'Any news?' he asked.
'She left the shop at five,' Heaney growled. 'She was going
to the market before going home. You'd better get round
and see if she's there.'

Sam ran the whole way, his legs going like pistons. He
clattered up the stairs and into the apartment. Mrs Rossini
was in the kitchen and looked round in surprise.
'Has Beth been home?' Sam asked.
She shook her head and added something in Italian. Sam
felt she was trying to ask why he looked so worried. But he
couldn't spare the time to try to find words she would
understand, and went into their room. Beth's fiddle case
was on the floor by the window, just where it had been
when he left the room at midday to start work. He looked
at the dresses she wore when she was playing and all three
of them were still hanging on the wall.
He realized it was possible Theo had come back, met her
at the shop and whisked her off somewhere. Under normal
circumstances Beth wouldn't go anywhere if she was
expected at the saloon, but as Sam knew, the heart took
over from the head when romance was in the air, and she
had been moping over Theo for weeks.
Yet even if she had done that, Sam knew she would've
come back here first and left a note for him, if only to ask
him to tell Heaney she was ill.

Amy and Kate were out and the Irish family they shared
with hadn't seen Beth either.
Sam ran back to Heaney's. He was really scared now.
Beth's safety was uppermost in his mind, but he didn't relish
having to tell Heaney that he'd heard a rumour about Fingers
and not divulged it.
In the room at the back of the saloon, Sam told Heaney
he was afraid Fingers might have kidnapped Beth, and why,
and predictably the man blew his top.
'You heard that Fingers was about to declare war on me
and you didn't tell me?' he roared.
Sam apologized and explained that he hadn't believed it.
'I was told I should watch out for Beth, that's why I'm
scared they've done that.'
He fully expected Heaney to scoff at this. But he didn't;
instead he scratched his head and looked worried.
'Would they have taken her?' Sam asked.
'How would I know?' Heaney snarled. 'But one thing's
certain, we'll soon know if the mother-fucker's got her
because he'll make some demand.'
He had no sympathy for Sam. It was clear from his
agitation that his main concern was not Beth's safety but his
own loss of face.
'Get back behind the bar and keep this to yourself,' he
ordered him.
Sam felt like punching the man for being so callous. He
wanted him to get up on the stage, announce Beth was
missing and ask if anyone knew anything. But reason prevailed,
for although he knew the vast majority of men in the
bar would be only too eager to help find her, New York
was a big place. She could be held anywhere, and scores of
men running around blindly with their blood up wouldn't
achieve anything but further trouble.

It was the longest night Sam had ever known. He had to
listen to Heaney's announcement that Beth couldn't make
it to play that night, see the disappointment on the men's
faces, and deal with many of them asking him if she was sick.
Heaney sent him home at midnight. 'They won't make a
move until tomorrow,' he said, with a clap on Sam's shoulder
which was as close as he could get to displaying a semblance
of sympathy. 'I've been through this kinda thing before, lad.
They'll make us sweat before they show their hand.'

It did make Sam sweat. Lying on his bed, looking at Beth's
empty one, he cursed himself for dismissing what Jack had
said. It was pure arrogance on his part; he just didn't want
to acknowledge that a man he considered inferior might
actually know more than he did. He'd never approved of
Jack's friendship with Beth, yet he'd pretended he did
because it let him off taking care of her, so he could spend
more time with his women.
Until tonight, Sam had prided himself on his many conquests.
It made him feel powerful that he could sweet-talk
any girl into bed. Yet now, as he thought about Polly,
Maggie, Nora and, more recently, Annie, he felt ashamed of
himself. They were all either actresses or dancers, girls who
had already been ruined by someone else, soft targets as
they were vulnerable and desperate for love. In truth he
knew that each one of them would probably become a
whore before long. He didn't know now how he could have
been so hypocritical about Jack, for even if he was a bit
rough and ready, he had always treated Beth with the utmost
respect and real affection.
Theo, on reflection, was a far more dangerous animal. He
was not only handsome and well bred but also suave and
calculating. Sam had watched him play poker several times

and been in awe of his coolness and sophistication. At the
last game he played at Heaney's he'd won over five hundred
dollars, yet he'd acted as if it were nothing. Any brother
worth his salt would have moved heaven and earth to stop
his sister getting involved with such a man, yet Sam had
openly admired him and given the relationship his blessing.
He felt nauseous as he considered that Beth could have
gone the same way as their mother. He was reminded that
he'd had no sympathy for her, and it shamed him now that
he'd wanted to abandon her newborn baby. It had been
Beth who held everything together. But for her resourcefulness
and her personality they would never have been invited
to live in Falkner Square and it was doubtful they'd ever
have got to America.
He wished now that they'd never come here as his mind
began to turn to where she might be and the conditions she
was being held under. He knew it wouldn't be a comfortable
or warm place; men like Fingers lived like animals. But even
more terrifying was the possibility that he might never see
Beth again. He couldn't imagine Heaney agreeing to pay a
ransom for her. He'd see that as weakness. And Fingers
would never let her go without payment; he'd sooner kill
her than lose face.
At four in the morning when it was still pitch dark, Sam
left the house to find Jack. He didn't know where he lived,
but he did know he worked at the slaughterhouse by the
East River and started there early in the morning.
It was freezing cold, with a thick layer of frost-covered
snow from days earlier. He walked fast to warm himself up,
but he felt sick with anxiety and lack of sleep.

Beth hadn't been able to sleep either. She was so cold it had
crossed her mind that she could very well die from it.

For the first three or four hours after she was pushed
unceremoniously into this dark cellar she had kept walking
up and down and shouting, but eventually exhaustion had
forced her to sit down on what felt like some old packing
crates.
There was water on the floor, and it had seeped into her
boots, and the air was foul. Whether this was a leakage of
sewage, something dead or rotten in there with her, or just
the sheer age of the building, she didn't know, but she
wasn't inclined to grope around in the darkness to find out.
She did know that she was in one of the alleys offMulberry
Bend, the same area she and Sam had accidentally found
themselves in on their first night in America. She'd taken
note of where the man with the knife at her back was
prodding her to because she hoped she'd be able to distract
him at some point and run away from him. But she stood
no chance of that, for his hand remained clamped down on
her shoulder, and he moved the knife to her side and held
it there.
Beth had never seen the man before. He was tall and
powerfully built, with coarse, misshapen features that suggested
he might be a prize fighter. His hands were huge, like
hams, and what teeth he had left were blackened and broken.
By the standards of Mulberry Bend he was well dressed, in
a thick, dark wool coat with a velvet collar and a homburg
hat, but he had the smell she'd come to recognize of a slum
dweller -- mildew, tobacco and wood smoke.
She knew he must have been ordered to capture her, for
if robbery had been his aim he would have taken what she'd
had and moved on. And he was definitely acting on Fingers'
behalf because she had tried pleading with him, telling him
she'd willingly play at his saloon as she had no loyalty to
Heaney. He confirmed this by looking a little startled at


Fingers' name, and then told her to shut up. She didn't shut
up, she continued to plead her cause, but then he struck her
round the face.

Her fingers felt her swollen cheek tentatively. His blow
had been like being hit with a sledgehammer. She was so
dazed by it she could hardly see, and he grabbed her arm
and almost dragged her the rest of the way here.

There had been dozens of people about. In the narrow,
fetid alley they ended up in there had been a gang of men
who had all looked at them curiously. Sadly Beth didn't
think that would mean rescue was close at hand, for Fingers
wouldn't have ordered her to be brought here openly if he
hadn't been sure he could count on the locals' loyalty.

She had no idea what time it was now, but she felt it was
still night, for there were no chinks of light coming in
anywhere. The thought of rats made her flesh crawl and she
hugged her arms tighter around her, trying hard not to think
of that. Instead, she tried to work out how long it would be
before Sam realized what had happened.

He would of course have known something was wrong
when she didn't turn up to play. But how could he find her?
It would be like looking for a particular pebble on an entire
beach.
Chapter Seventeen

At six, when Jack arrived at the slaughterhouse to see Sam
waiting there, the colour drained from his face even before
Sam told him what had happened.
'Go on, say it,' Sam said miserably. 'I should've taken
more notice of what you told me.'
Jack's eyes flashed dangerously, but he made an effort to
control himself. 'I guess you couldn't have watched over her
all the time.' He sighed. 'No one could, and who would've
expected them to snatch her as she was leaving Ira's shop?'
'What can we do, Jack?' Sam asked miserably. 'I can't see
Heaney sending his mob out to find her. He'll just order
them to smash up Fingers' property and then the war will
really start.'
Jack nodded in agreement. 'I wish I could skip work and
stay with you, but I daren't. I finish at one today, though, so
I'll keep my ear to the ground and meet you at Heaney's by two.'
Sam walked back home, but with every step his fear for
Beth grew. He had been so complacent, believing he was
better educated than most, attractive to the ladies and considered
a gendeman by all. He lorded it behind the bar at
Heaney's, never lapsing into American slang because he
wanted to stand out as an Englishman.
But the truth was that he was a milksop. He had never
been in a fight in his life, and he was afraid of violence, and
if he was considered honest, that was because he was too
scared to be otherwise.
His famous charm wasn't going to rescue Beth and he

had no money to pay a ransom for her either. What was he
going to do?

Beth sat shivering on her box watching as faint chinks of
light came through the boards of the cellar ceiling. But
although this told her that it must be after seven on Saturday
morning, there were no other chinks of light anywhere else.
Somewhere up there was the trapdoor she'd come down
through. There had been some sort of ladder, too, for the
man had pushed her on to it, but she'd lost her footing and
slithered the rest of the way down to the floor. He'd pulled
the ladder up before shutting and locking the door.
She wished she could remember what the room above
was like, but she'd been struggling and crying as he pushed
her along a narrow dark passage from the alley, so even
when he struck a match, she hadn't noticed anything more
than the trapdoor he flung open.
But it struck her that even if she didn't see anything, she
would've sensed if the room was lived in. There was no
sound coming from there now, nor had there been all night,
and if there had been anyone living there, surely her captor
would've gagged her?
So perhaps it was a storeroom. Maybe there wasn't anyone
else in the entire building?
That seemed very unlikely. Mulberry Bend and its surrounding
rabbit warren of alleyways were by repute the most
overcrowded part of the city. Anyone owning a building here
would press it into service as a five-cents-a-night flop house.
She wanted to cry, from fear, cold and hunger, but she
was determined not to. Fingers had snatched her because
he considered her valuable. It didn't make any sense for him
to leave her down here to die.
The light through the ceiling cracks was growing a little

brighter, which suggested there were windows in the room
above. Most windows around here were broken, and if she
made enough noise someone might hear. All she had to do
was find something to make it with.

Sam was back at Heaney's at nine, to find the door locked,
and when he peered through the window he saw Pebbles
sweeping up the dirty sawdust on the floor.
He attracted the man's attention, and reluctantly he
opened the door. 'Mr Heaney told me to keep the door
locked and not let anyone in,' he said.
'He wouldn't have meant me,' Sam said, slipping in and
locking the door behind him. 'Is there any news of Beth?'
'Dunno,' Pebbles replied, his expression saying that he
cared less.
Pebbles was a bit simple, so Sam knew there was no point
in questioning him further. He went through to the back
and lay down on the old sofa in there, trying to think what
he could do. .
The next thing he knew, Heaney's voice was booming in
the bar. Sam jumped up and ran in there, noticing it was
now eleven o'clock and he'd been asleep for two hours.
'You look rough,' Heaney remarked, going behind the
bar and pouring himself a whisky. 'I haven't heard anything,
so get yourself home and cleaned up. It's business as usual
until I tell you otherwise.'
His brusque tone made Sam angry. "You don't give a
damn about Beth, do you? Only that someone's pulled one
over on you. What kind of man are you?'
'The kind that socks insolent young pups in the mouth,'
Heaney retorted, finishing his drink in one long gulp. 'Now,
get home and shave and put a clean shirt on.'

Jack was as good as his word; at two he came into the
saloon. He'd changed his bloodstained working clothes for
a very shabby seaman's navy blue pea jacket and an equally
old cap. 'I was told Fingers owns property in Mulberry
Bend,' he whispered to Sam across the bar. 'No address,
and it's like a feckin' rabbit warren around there, but I'm
going over now to look around.'
'I want to come with you,' Sam whispered back. 'But
Heaney will throw a fit.'
"You'd stand out there like a dog's bollocks,' Jack said
with a smirk. Til go alone. Besides, it'll be better if you're
here when Fingers does make a move. We need to know
what his demands are. We can't trust Heaney to tell us the
truth.'
'I don't think he'll pay anything to get Beth back,' Sam
said fearfully.
'That's why we've got to find her, and if Fingers has hurt
her then I swear I'll kill him.'

Jack lit up a cigarette outside a pawnshop in Mulberry Bend,
leaned back against a wall and surveyed the teeming street
impassively. Beth had told him how horrified and scared
she was when she and Sam lost their way and found themselves
here, but he hadn't had the heart to tell her that it
wasn't so different to where he'd grown up in the East End
of London, or for that matter the slums of Liverpool.
The main difference was that English people were a tiny
minority here, and perhaps only half of the rest spoke little
or any English.
They were Italians, Germans, Poles, Jews and Irish in
the main, with a liberal sprinkling from other European
countries, plus negroes who had moved up from the
Southern states. The only thing they had in common with

one another was the hopelessness of their situation, for this
wasn't just a ghetto of poor people, this was the absolute
bottom of the pit.

If you came to this hell-hole in desperation because you'd
nowhere else to go, the sides of the pit were too steep and
high to climb out again.

Jack knew that the rents charged here for one filthy,
rat-and-bug-infested room were in fact higher than for a
decent house or a complete apartment uptown. But then,
these poverty-stricken immigrants would not be acceptable
to the landlords of those places.

All over the Lower East Side people could only manage
to pay high rents on low wages by sharing with others,
usually friends or relatives. But here the only criterion for1

having some sort of roof over your head was the ability to
pay a few cents per night, and for that you slept on a floor
among dozens of others.

Living a hand-to-mouth existence, with no comfort,
warmth or even facilities for keeping clean, people soon
found themselves locked into a spiral which led ever further
downwards. A man could hardly take on strenuous physical
work when he had little sleep or a decent meal; a woman
couldn't sew or even make matchboxes unless she had room
and light to do it in. Who wouldn't turn to drink when it
was the only thing which numbed the mind from complete
despair?

In Jack's immediate view he could count five grog shops,
three saloons, two second-hand clothes shops and two
pawnshops. He thought that gave a fairly accurate picture
of the needs of the community.

The one greengrocer's had a display of fruit and vegetables
that even from a distance were clearly well past their
best, and the dried goods store was only marginally better.

222

I
People were peddling things all along the kerbside. Two
bent old crones were selling stale bread, and he watched as
their dirty hands delved into even dirtier bags made from
old mattress ticking to bring out another misshapen loaf.
Another man was butchering a goat on a piece of wood
balanced on one of the street's ash tins. But even worse
were the two Italian men selling stale beer, the leftover dregs
from a saloon, passing it out in old tin cans.
'The Bend', as it was generally known, because the road
was shaped like a dog's leg, was at least swept from time to
time by the council. But just a few steps away in the rabbit
warren of narrow, dark alleys running from it, places where
neither council brooms nor sunshine ever ventured, the
rubbish lay rotting on the ground, mingling with the stink of
human effluent. Thousands of people lived in the ramshackle
houses, tenements, cellars and even sheds, a pile of rags
passing for a bed, a beer crate for a stool.
Jack had no doubt that most of the ragged, half-starved
children he could see hanging around today had no home,
for living on the streets was often preferable to 'home'. At
least that way they didn't have to hand over their meagre
earnings from begging or thieving or risk being beaten by
drunken parents.
Jack knew exactly how that was, for he had taken to the
streets of Whitechapel at a very early age for just the same
reasons. School was a place he only went to when the
truancy man caught him; all his knowledge and skills, which
were mainly those of survival, were learned on the streets.
Meeting Beth on the ship had been like a miracle. The
only friends he'd ever had were those from the slime at the
bottom of the barrel like him. He'd looked at girls like Beth
from afar, wishing he could reach out and touch their silky
hair, or just be close enough to smell their clean skin and


clothes. He never dreamed he would ever have someone
like that for a friend, much less hold her hand or kiss her.
But Beth talked to him as if he was the same as her. She
laughed with him, she shared her sadness and her hopes
with him. She made him think he could achieve anything he
wanted. When she said goodbye on the ship, promising she
would meet him in exactly one month's time on Castle
Green, he didn't expect for one moment that she would be
there. But the strength and belief in himself that she'd given
him stayed with him.
He spent his first night here in the Bend, for it was the
only place he'd been told about by acquaintances back in
Liverpool. But for Beth's influence, he wouldn't even have
noticed how appalling it was, he would've numbed his mind
with drink and followed the lead of those he met that night.
But she had changed his viewpoint, and by the following
morning he knew he must get out immediately or find¦
himself sucked in.I
Working in the slaughterhouse was hideous. The terror
of the catde as he helped drive them from the ship towards
their death, the casual attitude of the men who killed them
and the stink of blood and guts made him feel sick to his
stomach. But it was work, better paid than most jobs, andI
even though sleeping on the floor with five other men in¦
one tiny room didn't seem as if he'd taken a step upwards,
he knew he had.
He almost didn't go to Castle Green a month later. He'd
caught Sam's parting glance at him, and it was cold enough
to freeze a brass monkey. He also expected that Sam, with
his looks and charm, would have found some fancy position,
and that by now Beth would be walking out with someone
her brother had picked for her.
It was sheer defiance that made Jack go. He had been

tempted so many times to backslide into his old ways of
drinking and fighting, and he thought if she let him down
he could justify it. But there she was, waiting for him on
Castle Green, bright, eager and lovely.
He had been surprised that Sam wasn't in work, and
when he sensed her anxiety about it, he tried to help, never
imagining Sam would stoop to being a barman on the
Bowery. Jack hadn't admitted how he was living, or how
gruesome his job was -- that would have been too much for
Beth - but it spurred him on to improve his situation.
Getting moved into the butchery side of the slaughterhouse
wouldn't seem much of a step up to many, but it was.
He was learning a trade which would stand him in good
stead in the future, and he didn't have to see and hear the
catde's terror. Shortly afterwards he got a better room,
sharing with three friends. It wasn't much, but it was clean,
he had a real bed and a place to hang his clothes.
All through the summer he thought he had the sun, the
moon and the stars because he had Beth. He worked extra
hours to get more money so he could save a little; he even
went to a night class to improve his reading and writing.
Then came the day he realized she didn't feel the same
about him.
For a while he thought life wasn't worth living without
her. It was like a knife through the heart hearing that his
rival was a gentleman, for it brought back all his old feelings
of worthlessness. So many nights he went down to Heaney's
and stood outside just to listen to her playing, and he'd be
choked up with tears.
It was on one of those nights that it came to him that
even if she didn't return his love, maybe he could keep her
in his life as a friend. He knew it wasn't going to be easy,
for he'd have to pretend to like Theo the card sharp and put

up with Sam looking down on him. But he thought he could
do that, in the hopes that one day Beth might need him.
Well, she needed him now. He just hoped he could track
down where she was being held and rescue her.

Jack was systematic in his search, up one alley, down the
next, checking out each tiny dark court in between. He saw
drunks lying insensible, near-naked children with hollow
eyes sitting lisdessly on stoops. Gangs of young lads eyed
him up with suspicion, haggard whores offered themselves
for a few cents.
Everywhere else in New York there were Christmas decorations,
festooned trees and shop windows full of ideas for
presents. But although tomorrow was Christmas Eve, there
was no hint of any festivity here.
Jack spoke to many people. Mostly he pretended he was
just off a ship and had been told that he'd got to look up
someone called Fingers Malone. Mostly people shook their
heads and said they didn't know anyone by that name. An
old whore with a pockmarked face spat and said he was an
evil bastard, but couldn't be drawn as to why, or where he
could be found. A couple of lads of about thirteen bragged
they'd done a few jobs for him. Jack was pretty certain
they'd only heard his name and wouldn't even know the
man if he stood in front of them.
In a dirty, smoky saloon on Mulberry, the barman said
he owned a chunk of property in Bottle Alley, but a man
drinking at the bar said it wasn't there, it was in Blind Man's
Court.
By eight in the evening Jack's feet ached. He was so weary
of repeating the same story to so many people that he
doubted he was making much sense, and he'd scrutinized
every inch of both Bottle Alley and Blind Man's Court. The

Bend was no place for a stranger to hang around at night,
for the alleys were dark, full of drunks eager for a fight and
young lads on the prowl looking for someone to rob. It was
also bitterly cold, so he felt he had to go back to Heaney's
to see if Sam had any news.

It was a relief to get back to the Bowery with its bright lights
and gaiety. Music thumped out from the German Beer
Gardens, and a marching band was playing Christmas carols.
The pedlars were out in force, selling everything from cheap
toys to men's suspenders. There were toffee apples, roast
chestnuts and waffles, and the warmth from the stalls and
the sweet smells reminded Jack that Beth might be cold and
hungry.
Jack spotted a familiar face in the crowd ahead of him.
He had only seen Theo once, but his striking good looks
were memorable, and in the Bowery such a man would
stand out, even without his full evening dress, complete with
top hat and a cloak.
Jack stepped right into his path. 'Mr Cadogan!' he said.
'Do I know you?' Theo asked, looking Jack up and down
as if astounded that a man so roughly dressed should know
his name.
'No, sir,' Jack said. 'But I'm a friend of Beth's, and she's
in great danger. I was just going down to Heaney's to see
her brother, and I spotted you.'
Jack half expected the man to claim he had urgent
business and couldn't stop now, but he didn't. 'In danger?'
he exclaimed. 'Tell me what's happened!'
Jack explained and added that he felt she was being held
somewhere in the Bend and how he'd just come from
there. 'But sommat might have happened since I've been
gone.'

'Poor dear Beth.' Theo sighed, looking genuinely distressed.
'I had intended to go and collect her later this
evening, I've been away in Boston for some weeks. But I'll
come with you now and perhaps with our combined force
we can make that dreadful Heaney get her released.'
Heaney's was packed as usual on a Saturday night and a
negro pianist was acting as a substitute for Beth.
Sam looked wild-eyed and frantic, his customary bonhomie
with the customers gone. 'Thank God!' he exclaimed
as Jack and Theo came up to the bar. 'I'd been thinking
everyone had deserted me.'
Theo had a few words with him, but over the din of
the drinkers Jack couldn't hear what he was saying. Then
Theo turned back to Jack, caught hold of his arm and
pointed to the back-room door. 'We're going in there,' he said.
Jack was somewhat bemused that the man he'd taken for
an upper-class jackal who liked to scavenge in low places
did appear to have some courage.
Theo didn't even knock on the door, just charged in.
Heaney was sitting at a table writing in what looked like a
ledger. His eyes grew wide at the unexpected intrusion.
'I hear you've had a demand from Fingers Malone for the
return of Miss Bolton,' Theo bluffed, his voice cold as steel.
'You may have your reasons for not informing her brother
what they are, but as her fiance I insist on knowing.'
Jack was fairly certain Beth had not become Theo's
fiancee because she would've said so at Thanksgiving. While
he hated the idea that this might be on the cards, he was glad
Theo had come up with a good excuse for his intervention.
'As the demand has been made of me,' Heaney said,
getting out of his chair, 'it's my feckin' business.'
'Not when a young lady is in peril,' Theo snapped at him,

I
I



and took a threatening step towards the older man. 'Now,
tell me what you know, and be quick about it.'
Heaney blustered and stalled.
'How much does he want?' Theo asked.
'It isn't the price so much as what could happen in the
future,' Heaney said, a slight whine in his voice. 'He'll think
he can take everything I've got, beat me down and stamp
on me. I won't let him do that.'
'I take it that means you aren't intending to do anything,'
Theo said contemptuously. "You want to let her rot with
Fingers, don't you? What sort of snake are you that a girl's
life means nothing to you?'
'Fingers won't kill her,' Heaney said quickly. 'He wants
her to play at his place.'
'She will do that if you don't lift a finger to help her.'Jack
spoke out, tempted to wring the man's neck. 'You've got to
rally some of your men and strike back. Why not snatch his
missus?'
'That wouldn't bother Fingers, he'd be only too glad to
see the back of her,' Heaney said with a shrug.
Well, get one of his henchmen then!'

'I've checked out his place. He's got it tight as a drum,
his men are everywhere.'
You mean his saloon, I take it?' Theo said. 'What other
properties does he own? D'you know where they are?'
'He's into everything from the stale beer dives to the
five-cents-a-night class houses,' Heaney replied disdainfully.
'Down on the Bend?' Jack asked.
'Where else?' Heaney snapped.
Jack looked at Theo and gestured to him that he wanted
to talk to him outside.
'We'll be back,' Theo said to Heaney.

They had to go right outside on the street as the noise in
the saloon was so loud.

'Heaney won't help.' Jack spoke in a low voice as he lit
up a cigarette. 'So we've got to find her ourselves. Bottle
Alley or Blind Man's Court, she's got to be in one of them.
We pick five or six good men and storm 'em. Even if she's
not there, we're bound to find someone we can put pressure
on to tell us where she is. If we go in early in the morning
everyone will be sleeping off the grog.'

'I've never been down there,' Theo said, his voice subdued
as if this was all too much for him.

'I have, and I know my way around.' Jack grinned at him,
for he liked the fact that he was in a position to command.
'I know which men to pick too. We don't want Heaney's
blokes, nor Fingers'. This is just us, getting our girl back.'

Theo didn't speak for a moment. 'I'll have to go home
and change,' he said eventually. 'Can I meet you later?'

'We'll meet up on the corner of Canal Street at six,' Jack
said.

Theo nodded. 'What shall we say to Heaney?'

'Nothing, like he's told us nothing,' Jack said viciously.
'But there'll be trouble after this for all of us. Reckon we
might have to leave town for a while.'
Chapter Eighteen

Who's this other cove then, Jack?' Edgar asked as the men
gathered at the end of Canal Street at six in the morning. It
was well below freezing and their breath was like smoke as
they huddled together under a lamp post.
'A flash geezer, name of Theo,' Jack replied tersely. He
was wishing now he hadn't suggested Theo joined them,
for he was likely to be a liability. 'Beth's been walking out
with him.'
All five of the men worked at the slaughterhouse and
none had any affiliation with either Heaney or Fingers. They were all big, muscular men, ranging from twenty to
twenty-five, but Edgar was the only one born in America.
The other four were immigrants like Jack: Karl, a Swede,
Pasquale, an Italian, Thaddeus, a Pole, known to everyone
as Tadpole, and Dieter, a German.
The bonds between these men had been formed while
working alongside one another. Theirs was a hard, brutal
trade and serious accidents could happen at any time, so
they had to rely on one another. Jack had once knocked
Karl out of the way of an enraged steer, and all the others
had someone to thank for giving them a timely warning or
helping them when they were hurt. There was a kind of
code between all the men who worked in the slaughterhouse
that if one of their number needed assistance, the others
would give it.
Jack was one of the group who offered their muscle when
Tadpole's younger sister was raped by three men as she

walked home from a dancing class. One of the rapists would
never walk again, let alone defile another woman, and the
other two received a primitive form of castration.
Jack had known he could count on these men, for they
not only knew that Beth was special to him but had all heard
her play at Heaney's at some time. When he'd called at each
of their lodgings, their only question had been, 'What time?'
Each man had come prepared with a cudgel tucked beneath
his coat.
Sam came around the corner to join them, looking as yellow as a Chinaman in the gaslight. Jack introduced him
briefly to the other men, and patted his shoulder in sympathy
because he knew Sam was no fighter and could see he was
scared.
Finally Theo arrived. He was wearing working-men's
clothes and Jack fleetingly wondered how he came by them
as he doubted the man had ever done a day's real work in
his life. He also wondered if Theo had considered running
away from this. But he would have the man's full measure
in an hour or two.
He introduced Theo, then urged everyone to gather round
him so he didn't have to shout.
'The object of the raid is to frighten people into telling
us where she's being held,' he began. 'Shout, push, but hold
back on using your cudgels, they are only for those standing
in our way, not the poor sods who live in the hovels.
'They'll be reluctant to tell us anything. They may be
down and out but even they have a code of not squealing.
They are out in the alleys at all hours, though, so some of
them must have seen Beth brought there.
'Finally, watch out for the children. There'll be hundreds
of them; it will be like stirring up an ants' nest. We don't
want hurting one of them on our consciences.'

I






'Are we all to go in at once?' Karl, the big blond Swede,
asked.
'No. I'll go in with Pasquale and Dieter, to make sure the
Italians and Germans understand what we want. The rest of
you block the door to stop any escaping. I've got some
money to offer as a bribe, so keep your eyes and ears open
for anyone who acts or looks like they know what we want.'
Jack handed Sam a spare cudgel, knowing he wouldn't
have thought to bring any kind of weapon. He noted that
Theo had a stout walking stick, which surprised him; he had
expected the man to produce a knife.
Jack led the way, Sam beside him, and the others followed
close on their heels.
It was odd seeing the alleys so empty and peaceful after
the crowds and noise on the previous day. They passed
many drunks lying insensible on the frosty ground. Jack
wondered fleetingly how many of their number would never
wake up, for he'd heard that the death rate in winter here
included many who'd frozen to death.
But it wasn't entirely silent. They could hear snoring and
babies crying, and there was the inevitable rustling of rats
going about their business.
They began with Blind Man's Court, and Pasquale lit the
lantern he'd brought with him. As Jack had expected, there
was no lock on the front door, nor even any on the door of
the first room they charged into. As Pasquale held the
lantern up they saw there were at least fifteen people huddled
in together on the floor like sardines in a tin.
'Where's the girl?' Jack yelled, prodding bodies with his
cudgel. 'Come on, tell me where she is!'
One by one heads lifted, blinking in the light of the
lantern. A woman screamed, a man swore at them, but Jack
persisted. 'Someone brought a girl here by force yesterday,'

he said. 'It was around six in the evening. Did you see her?'

Pasquale repeated the message in Italian when he heard
some of his countrymen's voices. That brought forth a
torrent of words and Jack looked questioningly at Pasquale,
for though he'd learned a few Italian phrases, he couldn't
understand them.

'They say to go away, they haven't seen anything. They
are upset you woke them up.'

'D'you believe them?'

Pasquale nodded. 'We'd best try the next room.'

They went through the house systematically, and although
they saw some two hundred people, ranging from babies to
old folk, they learned nothing. Some of the younger men
escaped from them and ran outside, where the others
stopped them and questioned them. But they had run not
out of guilt, just sheer force of habit. It seemed that a raid
on that house usually meant some of their number being¦

sent to the Tombs.I

By the time they were ready to move on to the next
house, the noise they had created had alerted most of the
residents in the little court, and Jack's men had their work cut
out to keep everyone contained within it. Fortunately, as it
was still dark and bitterly cold, most were so frightened by the
sight of the cudgels that they soon disappeared back inside.

'She wasn't brought here, Jack,' Theo said when they'd
been in every house, searching from the cellars up to the
attics. 'I've never seen such a pitiful bunch. You saw how
hopeful they looked when it got around there was a reward
for information! They are half starved -- if they knew something
they'd have been falling over themselves to tell us.'

'Let's hope we find something in Bottie Alley then,' Jack
said wearily.

The situation in Bottle Alley was a repeat of what had gone
on in Blind Man's Court, except it was harder to contain
the people who came tumbling out to see what was going
on, because it was an alley, with an exit at either end. By the
time they were half-way down the alley, it was light, and their
problems were exacerbated by people who lived elsewhere
coming through it. Many stopped to ask what was going on,
or just stood around watching.
Sam looked as if he was on the point of collapse. Dealing
with so many people milling around him, all speaking different
languages, when he hadn't slept for two nights, was
indeed hard on him.
Jack was tired too. He felt he must have asked the same
questions at least a thousand times, and there were moments
when he was tempted to use his cudgel, just to provoke
some real reaction rather than the blank stares. A few old
crones clutching shawls around their bent shoulders held
out filthy hands for money, many of the men hurled insults,
and the children darted around them constantly, getting in
the way.
To Jack's surprise, Theo was very good with the children.
Most of them spoke English, or at least enough to communicate with him, and he worked his way diligently among
them, questioning, cajoling and promising a reward for
information.
'Come over here, Jack!' he suddenly called out, and as
Jack pushed his way through the throng, he saw Theo was
with a little girl of six or seven. She was typical of all the
children, painfully thin and white faced, with matted hair,
and her dark eyes seemed too large for such a small face.
She wore only a thin, ragged dress, her feet were bare and
dirty and a shawl was criss-crossed across her chest and tied
in a knot at her back.

'She heard something,' Theo said as Jack reached him.
'But her English isn't good. She keeps going off into Italian.'
Jack got Pasquale, who knelt down in front of the child
and spoke to her in his language. Pasquale was handsome,
with curly black hair, olive skin and soft, dark eyes, and
although the little girl was shy and peeped through her
fingers at him, she gradually began to respond as he kept
talking to her and smiling to reassure her. Theo held out a
silver dollar, and her eyes fixed on it greedily. 'Tell her she
may have it if she can tell us what she heard and where it was.'
The silver dollar seemed to work. All at once she was
jabbering away.
'What's she saying?' Jack asked.
'She heard banging yesterday and someone calling out.
She told her mother who said people are always banging
and calling out here. But the girl said she'd never heard
anyone calling like this lady was.'
Jack's heart seemed to leap into his mouth. 'Where was
this?' he asked.
Pasquale asked the little girl and she took his hand as if
to lead him there.
Jack followed with Theo, right along the far end of the
alley they hadn't yet searched. The child stopped by a small
piece of waste ground, clearly the site of a building which
had burned or fallen down. It was full of rubbish and rubble
and a crazy-looking tumbledown shack which could've once
been a stable. She looked up at Pasquale and began speaking
again.
Pasquale smiled. 'She hides in the shack when her pa is
drunk. She slept in there and was woken up in the morning
by the banging and calling. She said it came from over there.'
He pointed to the house on the left.

Jack felt a surge of excitement. The houses on either side

of the waste ground were very old and shored up with big
timbers, but squeezed behind them in what should've been
a backyard, were newer buildings. These places, known as
back lots, were a common sight all over the Lower East Side.
'Let's get in there,' he said.
Going round to the front of the house, Jack saw the door
was padlocked and the windows boarded up. He asked the
child if anyone lived there. She shrugged her shoulders and
said something in Italian.
'She doesn't think so,' Pasquale said. 'But sometimes men
come there.'
Before Jack could even express his opinion that they'd
found the right place, Theo thrust the silver dollar into the
little girl's hand, ran round the back again and shinned up
the wall that joined the two parts of the house. It was about
eight feet high, but he managed it with ease for it was rough
stone with many hand- and foot-holds. He perched on the
top for a second, then jumped down the other side.
Jack quickly followed him, calling back to Pasquale to get
the others and bring the lantern. He dropped down into the
tiny yard between the two buildings.
The space was only about four feet square, and ankle-deep
in rubbish, fortunately frozen solid. The doors to both
houses were padlocked, and all the windows boarded up
save one by the door to the front house. The board there
had been wrenched off, revealing glass which was partially
broken.
Theo lifted his walking stick and smashed out the remainder
of the glass.
'Wait for the others to get here,'Jack called out, but Theo
took no notice and climbed in.
Jack was just about to follow him when he heard Karl
yell that he was coming over with the lantern, so he waited


until his friend was on the wall and had passed the lantern
down to him.
Theo's heavy boots were making a racket on the bare
boards inside the house, but as Jack climbed in through the
window, he thought he heard something.
Asking Theo to stand still, he listened, and they both
heard a faint cry.
'Beth?' Theo bellowed. 'Is that you? I've come to rescue
you!'
The two men stood stock still, straining their ears to hear.
Then, just as Jack began to think they had imagined the
cry, he heard Beth's voice.
'I'm below you,' she called, her voice tinny and weak.
'There's a trapdoor in the floor.'
'I'm just lighting a lantern to see,' Theo shouted back,
indicating to Jack he was to do it. 'Hold on, I'll have you
out in a trice.'
Once the lantern was alight they could see an old table
and a few chairs to one side of the room, several large
wooden crates and a quantity of empty bottles strewn around
them. It looked as if men had been coming here for card
games.
But they could see no trapdoor in the floor.
Karl came in, quickly followed by Pasquale, and all the men
pushed at the packing cases to see what was beneath them.

As they moved the last one, which was heavier than the
others, they finally saw the trapdoor. 'We've found it, Beth,'
Theo shouted, and Jack pulled it open.
'There's a ladder here,' Pasquale called, dragging it along
the passageway.
Jack moved to be the first one down the ladder, but Theo
elbowed him out of the way and disappeared down into the
darkness.

'I've got you now,' they heard him say above the sound
of Beth crying.

Theo brought her out over his shoulder, and as he set
her down at the top of the ladder, Jack thought he had never
seen a sadder sight. Her face was black with dirt, her eyes
red and swollen, and tears had made white tracks down her
cheeks. Her skirt and boots were soaked and she was so stiff
with cold she stumbled when she tried to walk.

'I thought I was going to die,' she said, and her voice was
little more than a croak.

Theo picked her up in his arms. 'We must get her away
from here and into the warm quickly,' he said.

Sam and the others were just coming over the wall, and
for a few moments everyone was talking at once, jubilant
that their mission had been accomplished. Beth seemed
scarcely aware of anyone but Theo, and as they all worked
together to lift her over the wall and away to safety, Jack
felt a sharp stab of jealousy.

He had been her real rescuer. He'd planned it, got the
men and organized it all. But Theo, who had done very
little, had taken over once they'd found her, and to Beth it
was going to seem as if he was her saviour.
Chapter Nineteen

The coffee shop where they had taken Beth was warm
and steamy. She was flexing her fingers and examining her
knuckles which were raw from banging on the walls.
'We should get you to a doctor,' Jack said.
'Don't fuss,' she replied, smiling weakly. 'I'm getting
warmer now and I'll be fine once I've had a wash and a
sleep. I just wish your friends hadn't disappeared before I
could thank them.'
It had been as though her mind was as frozen as her body
when Theo got her out of the cellar. She couldn't explain
anything and her limbs refused to move. Theo had carried
her all the way to this coffee shop, and although Jack and
Sam had kept asking her questions about how and where
she was snatched, she was unable to answer.
But now, after two large cups of hot, sweet coffee and
some bacon and eggs, she had thawed out enough to tell
them how it came about, and how her captor hadn't returned,
not to bring her food or drink or even a blanket.
She had told them how she kept up the shouting and banging
until exhaustion overcame her, but not that she had given
up hope of rescue. Now she was safe, the terror she'd felt
as she sat hunched up in the dark with only the squeaking
and rustlings of rats for company was fading. She could see
anxiety for her etched in the men's faces and she didn't want
to add to it.
Yet when she first heard Theo's and Jack's voices she
had thought she was descending into madness and merely

imagining what she most wanted to hear. It was only when
the trapdoor began to open, light spilled into her dark prison
and Theo's head was silhouetted in the opening, that she
knew it was for real.
'You can come back to my place,' Theo said, taking her
hand and kissing the tips of her fingers. 'Nobody knows
where it is, and it's a quiet house. You can have a hot bath
and a good sleep.'
That sounded like heaven to Beth, but she caught the
horrified glances Sam and Jack exchanged.
Theo saw them too, and letting go of her hand, looked
hard at Sam. 'You do realize that none of us will be safe?
Fingers will be out for our blood, and Heaney won't offer
us any protection because all he cares about is his property.'
'I can't see why Fingers would have it in for us,' Sam said
belligerently. 'Even a thug like him can surely understand a
man rescuing his sister.'
'It's all about keeping face,' Theo said patiently. 'He won't
give a damn about the rights and wrongs of it. All he'll see
is that we thwarted him.'
'He's right, Sam.'Jack sighed, running his fingers through
his dark hair distractedly. 'Fingers is a madman, and the
rough way he treated Beth proves that she meant nothing
to him. His whole aim was to provoke Heaney. He'll have
to do something else now and I wouldn't put it past him to
fire-bomb the saloon tonight just to show his muscle.'
'Are you trying to say I shouldn't work there any more?'
Sam said incredulously.
'Not unless you've got a death wish.' Theo smirked.
'You've got to make yourself scarce, Sam. We all have.
Fingers, Heaney and their foot soldiers aren't reasonable
men, they are mindless, savage brutes, determined to have
a turf war, and we'll be caught in fire from both sides. The

best thing you two can do is to take off to Philadelphia
today. I've got some friends you can go to there, and I'll
bring Beth to you as soon as she's able to travel.'
'What about my mates from the slaughterhouse?' Jack
asked, his face pale and anxious.
Theo shrugged. 'I think they're safe enough. They aren't
known to Fingers or Heaney.'
'We can't go just like that, it's Christmas Eve!' Sam
objected.
Theo raised an eyebrow. 'You surely don't think men like
them believe in the season of goodwill? They'll see tonight
as the perfect time to strike when all the bars are crowded.'
Sam's belligerent expression changed to one of fear. 'But
what about our belongings back at Houston Street?'
Theo looked at a clock on the wall; it was just after ten.
'I doubt word will reach Fingers or Heaney before noon.
You can go and pack up now, I'll take Beth to my place
first, then come round to collect her things.'
'What makes you think Beth will be safe with you?' Sam
said suspiciously. 'You said you'd have to leave too!'
'So I will, for I certainly won't be able to play cards
anywhere in New York for the foreseeable future,' Theo
replied. 'But no one knows where I live. We'll be safe enough
there until she's recovered.'
'Let me talk to Beth on her own,' Sam said curtly.
Theo nodded and said he'd give him ten minutes.
As soon as the coffee-shop door had closed behind him,
Sam moved closer to his sister. 'I don't want to leave you
with him,' he said. 'Especially at Christmas.'
Beth understood why he was afraid, but she was too
exhausted to concern herself with that for now, and besides,
she loved Theo, he'd rescued her and she'd willingly go
anywhere he suggested.

'It's the only thing to do,' she said, and patted her
brother's face affectionately. 'I'll be fine, I promise. I feel so
weak that I'd only be a liability to you if I was to come with
you now.'
'It isn't right for you to be alone with a man like him,'
Sam said stubbornly. 'And I don't like him telling Jack what
to do either.'
'He was talking sense,' Jack butted in. 'As soon as all this
started I knew I wouldn't be able to hang around afterwards,
I've heard what that crew do to anyone who gets in their
way. I'd rather Beth came with us now, but she isn't up to
it, Sam, so we ain't got no choice.'
Beth looked gratefully at Jack. 'I'm so sorry you had to
get caught up in this and lose your job too.'
'I might get a better one in Philadelphia,' he said with a
resigned grin. 'And we're not greenhorns any longer -- we
might even make our fortune.'

Beth could barely keep her eyes open as the cab took her
and Theo to his place. He had arranged to meet Jack and
Sam a little later to collect her belongings and to give them
an introductory letter for his friend in Philadelphia.
'They won't know themselves there,' he said reassuringly
when she'd been a little tearful as they said their goodbyes.
'Frank is a wealthy man with a finger in every pie in Philadelphia.
He'll have Sam in one of his saloons and Jack in some
other business before they even get a chance to unpack.'

Beth was so exhausted she didn't notice where the cab
was taking them, only that it was some way uptown from
I louston Street. She was vaguely aware it was a brownstone
house in a quiet square, the kind of area where well-to-do
families lived.

Theo took her up a flight of stairs and into a large room
at the front of the house. All she really saw in her exhausted
state was a big bed with ornate carved posts, and she collapsed
on to it. She vaguely heard Theo telling her she
needed to take her boots off and that he would tell his
landlady she was there before going back to Houston Street,
but she was already sinking into sleep and couldn't respond.
She woke later to the familiar sound of a fire being raked,
and for a moment or two she thought she was back in
Liverpool, for she had woken to that sound throughout her
childhood. She was very warm; the covers over her were
thick and heavy. But as she stretched a little, an ache in
her back and arms brought her back to reality. To her
consternation she realized that she was wearing only her
camisole and petticoat; her dress, stockings and stays had all
been removed.
Keeping the covers right up to her nose, she cautiously
opened her eyes and saw Theo bending down to the fire.
She felt rather than knew that he'd been in the room with
her for quite some time for the curtains were drawn, the gas
lit, and he was in his shirtsleeves.
The room looked very cosy, with two big armchairs drawn
up to the fire and a thick red rug in front of it. The whole
room had a rather grand air, for the gas lights on the walls
had ornate glass mantles, the curtains were heavy brocade,
and there was a linen press against one wall which matched
the dark wood of the bed and was equally ornately carved.
'Theo,' she whispered, 'what time is it?'
He stood up straight and turned to her with a smile. 'At
last! I'd begun to think you would never wake. It's seven
o'clock in the evening and I saw Jack and Sam off at the
station hours ago.'
'Who took my clothes off?' she asked.

'I did. I couldn't let you sleep with them on. They were
wet and badly soiled and you'd have been very uncomfortable,'
he replied.
Beth blushed and burrowed deeper into the covers.
'Could you get me something to put on then?' she asked
nervously. 'I need to get up.'
He went over to the door and took a checked wool
dressing gown from the hook. 'Put this on for now, though
I have got all your own things here. If you'd like a bath it's
just down the landing, and I've made sure the water is hot.
But maybe you'd like to eat first? I got some fried chicken
and potatoes earlier, which are being kept warm in Miss
Marchment's kitchen.'
"Will she mind me staying here?' Beth asked, pulling the
dressing gown under the covers with her so she could put
it on without revealing any flesh.
'No, not at all. I explained what had happened to you,'
he said. 'You can meet her tomorrow.'

Later that night Beth lay in the bed feeling strangely disappointed.
Theo had danced attendance on her. He'd
brought her a lovely big meal, run her a hot bath and given
her a couple of glasses of whisky mixed with honey and
lemon which he claimed would ensure she didn't come
down with a bad cold. But he hadn't even kissed her.
She could smell his hair oil on the pillows, she could
almost feel the imprint of his body in the mattress, but he
was sleeping elsewhere in the house and he hadn't made so
much as a tiny hint he'd like to share his bed with her.
Would she have let him if he had?
Beth didn't know the answer to that. Her head insisted
she wouldn't have allowed it. But if that was so, why did
she feel let down?

Then there was the question of where he'd been all these
weeks. He'd made no explanation or apology about that. It
seemed likely that he had another woman tucked away, but
if that was the case, why would he say he'd take Beth to
Philadelphia?
He must love her. Why else would he have planned and
executed her rescue? He'd told her about how he discovered
that Fingers owned property in both Blind Man's Close and Bottle Alley and that he stormed into every room of every
house until he found the little girl who said she'd heard
banging and shouting. Sam, Jack and Jack's friends were
there too of course, but it was clear Theo was their leader.
During the evening she'd wandered around his room and
taken note of many things: photographs of his family in
silver frames, good-quality clothes and shoes, gold cufflinks,
silver-backed hairbrushes and at least a dozen silk ties. The
furnishings in the room were worn and old, but there was
no mistaking that this had once been a wealthy person's
residence; she wondered why he'd led her to believe that he
lived much like her and Sam.
That could be because he might not know that poor
people like her didn't have bathrooms or a water closet just
down the hall. Maybe he actually believed he was roughing
it because he had to live and sleep in one room?
But if this was roughing it, with soft sheets on the bed, a
feather eiderdown and a roaring fire, then she would gladly
rough it with him. This house was as quiet as a church -- no
babies crying, no raised voices or drunken footsteps on
the stairs; the only sound she'd heard all evening was the
occasional rumbling of cab wheels in the street below.
She wanted to believe that Theo had kept his distance
tonight because he both loved and respected her, for that
was how gentlemen behaved in romantic novels. But a small

voice in her head warned her against thinking that way; he
had never said he loved her, and as Ira had pointed out
more than once, gamblers were a law unto themselves.

Beth woke the following morning to a knock on the door.
Before she could even gather herself, the door opened and
a woman came in, carrying breakfast on a large tray.
'I'm Miss Doughty, Miss Marchment's housekeeper,' she
said, her face stern and cold. 'Mr Cadogan asked me to bring
this up and tell you that he will see you this evening.'
'But it's Christmas Day,' Beth exclaimed. She was very
pleased by the breakfast of bacon, eggs, pancakes and coffee,
but she couldn't believe Theo intended to leave her alone
all day.
She also sensed the housekeeper's disapproval. The
woman was thin, with sharp features and iron-grey hair, and
she certainly didn't look like someone Beth could win round.
'Mr Cadogan would have made his plans for today some
weeks ago,' Miss Doughty retorted. 'Gentlemen do not
cancel such arrangements lightly and he has asked me to
make sure you rest and do not go out.'
'I'm sorry for intruding on you,' Beth said in an effort to
appease the woman. 'The breakfast looks wonderful.'
'Eat it up while it's hot. I'll be back later when you are
dressed to take you down to meet Miss Marchment. Make
sure you put on something plain, you don't want to alarm
her by looking like a saloon girl.'
She left then, sweeping out of the room and leaving Beth
feeling shaken.

Meeting Miss Marchment was an even more unpleasant
experience. Her room on the ground floor was gloomy and
squalid. It stank of cat's urine and made the comfort and

cleanliness of Theo's all the more remarkable. It was difficult
to judge Miss Marchment's true age, for although her
wrinkled, yellow-tinged skin, her black clothes and the lacy
cap over her white hair suggested she was very old, her loud,
brusque voice seemed to belong to someone much younger.
She was small and slender but her hands were swollen and
looked painful, and Beth thought she probably suffered from
rheumatics.
She didn't show the slightest sympathy or concern for
Beth, instead firing questions about her family background
as if she believed only someone from the gutter could have
got herself into such a plight. Beth attempted to impress on
her that she was in fact genteelly brought up, but the old
lady retorted that any girl working in a saloon was courting
trouble. She even added that she hoped Beth wasn't taking
advantage of Mr Cadogan's good nature.
Beth tried not to be rude back, merely stating that it had
been Theo's suggestion to bring her here because she was
exhausted after her ordeal. 'I am very grateful for his kindness,
and indeed to you for allowing me to stay a few days,
but I shall be joining my brother as soon as possible,' she
finished up.
It was clear Theo hadn't informed his landlady that he
was intending to leave her shortly, and Beth didn't enlighten
her.
Her spirits fell to an even lower ebb when she returned
to Theo's room. She was an unwelcome guest in an area she
didn't know. Nor did she know where Jack and Sam were
in Philadelphia. She felt trapped and completely dependent
on Theo.
Her thoughts naturally turned back to the previous Christmas
at Falkner Square, and as she thought of Molly toddling
around the kitchen, and all the warmth and laughter there

had been, the feeling of utter safety and happiness, she
ached to be back there.
Just after seven that evening Theo came back, bursting
into the room and bringing with him the smell of cigars and
images of a table laden with food and drink, and jovial
company. 'I wish I could have taken you with me today,' he
said, drawing her into his arms for a long, sensual kiss which
set Beth's head reeling.
Miss Doughty came up soon afterwards, bringing them a
cold supper of ham and pickles. Beth didn't have to ask why
Theo got his meals cooked and his laundry and cleaning
taken care of when the other four boarders, at present with
their families for Christmas, had to fend for themselves. He
had a way about him that would make any woman, no
matter how old, want to take care of him.
After they'd eaten their supper, and Beth had moved to
sit close to the fire, Theo took her fiddle out of its case and
handed it to her.
'Surely you don't want me to play it now?' she said in
some surprise. 'Won't I disturb Miss Marchment?'
He chuckled. 'She'd be more disturbed by silence. She'd
think I was making love to you. But I thought it would keep
you occupied because I have to go out again in a minute or
two anyway.'
Beth felt her heart sink with disappointment. 'I
thought you said it was dangerous for you to go out?' she
said quietly.
'It would be if I was bound for the Bowery.' He shrugged,
picking up his hairbrush and moving over to the looking
glass. 'But I have business in far more salubrious parts of
the city.'
Perhaps he sensed her disappointment for he came over
to her and embraced her.

'I have people to see and business arrangements to sort,'
he said, kissing her forehead tenderly. 'I would of course
much prefer to stay here with you, but then I would be
tempted to make love to you. When we get to Philadelphia
everything will be different. And you must practise your
fiddle, for when we get there I'm going to present you in all
the best places.'

Beth did play her fiddle after he'd gone. Her fingers were
stiff and bruised, in fact her whole body ached and it took
effort just to hold the instrument, but playing it was her
tried and tested way of calming herself. She didn't attempt
the gay-spirited jigs she'd played in Healey's, but some of
the plaintive, slower melodies she had learned as a child
from her grandfather. He had once said they brought back
the beauty of Ireland for him: he could see Galway Bay in
the mist, the purple-topped mountains and the wild flowers
on the bogs in spring. For Beth they were soothing sound
pictures, ones of love and security, for she could see the
parlour in Church Street, her parents sitting close together
on the couch, her grandfather leaning back in his chair, eyes
closed and a smile on his face.

On 28 December Beth and Theo caught the train to Philadelphia.
Theo had informed Miss Marchment that he was
leaving just the previous night, and Beth had heard her voice
raised in anger.
Theo didn't divulge to Beth what had been said. His only
comment was that he'd never told Miss Marchment that he
was going to stay permanendy.
'I do so hate it when people try to pin me down as if I'm
their property,' he added, as if by way of a warning to Beth.

It was dark when they arrived in Philadelphia, and a cab
took them a short distance from the railway station to a
street of old Federal-style houses. The door was opened by
a short, squat black woman wearing a white apron and a
spotted turban. 'Mr Cadogan!' she said with a smile as wide
as a slice of watermelon. 'It sure is good to see you again.'
'It's good to see you again too, Pearl,' he said, patting her
cheek with obvious affection. 'This is Miss Bolton, come to
join her brother.'
Pearl looked appraisingly at Beth, perhaps surprised that
she looked so different to Sam. 'You are very welcome, Miss
Bolton, but I'm afraid Sam and Jack have gone out on some
business. They'll be back later, though, so I'll get you some
supper and then show you your room.'
Beth was disappointed that Sam and Jack weren't there
to meet her, but it was a relief to find herself in an elegant,
comfortable and warm house. The doors and banisters were
shiny with varnish, there was thick carpet on the stairs, and
large, gleaming mirrors framed in gold reflected the light
from the gas mantles.
As Pearl led them to the kitchen at the back of the house,
Beth caught a glimpse of a sumptuous parlour furnished in
red and gold with a blazing fire.
'A bit different from Miss Marchment's, eh?' Theo said
with a smile.
Beth had heard laughter coming from the rooms upstairs,
but as neither Theo nor Pearl, who she assumed was the
housekeeper, volunteered any information about the rest of
the household, Beth ate the supper of soup, bread and
cheese and just listened as Theo chatted to Pearl.
It was clear he'd charmed her as he had Miss Marchment,
for the woman hung on his every word, fussing around him
and showing her delight that he was to stay for a while.

'I've got some business to attend to,' he said to Beth as
he finished his supper. 'But Pearl will take care of you until
Sam and Jack return. I shall see you in the morning.'
'You look very tired,' Pearl said solicitously after Theo had
gone. Til take you to your room now and let you settle in.'
Pearl led the way down to the basement holding an oil
lamp and Beth followed carrying her valise. It felt cold down
there after the warmth of the kitchen and Pearl apologized
for it, saying she'd put a hot brick in Beth's bed.
'Here we are,' she said, opening a door in a long passageway
with a rough stone floor. 'That's the laundry room,' she
went on, indicating a door to the left, and then, pointing to
the right, explained that was Sam and Jack's room.
Beth's room was small, around nine feet by seven feet,
with a barred window. 'It sure is poky but it's real quiet,'
Pearl said. 'Sam and Jack won't be back till after midnight,
so if you hear anything don't be alarmed -- it will only be
them coming back. No one else comes down here. If you
need anything, just come on up to the kitchen and holler.'
The room was plain, nothing more than an iron bed, a
wash stand with a tin basin and ewer, and a small clothes
closet. But it looked and smelled clean and Beth was so tired
she didn't even feel dismayed that Theo had left her alone
again.
After Pearl had gone upstairs, she took the oil lamp and
went into the next room where she was reassured to see
one of Sam's shirts hanging on a peg on the wall and Jack's
checked jacket on the back of a chair.
Beth had just finished unpacking her valise when a clock
upstairs struck ten. Thinking she would run up and ask Pearl
if she could have some hot water for a wash, she made her
way back to the staircase.
The basement door opened up at the back of the hall,

and as Beth reached it she heard people coming down
the stairs from the first floor. Assuming they were family
members, who might not wish to run into a stranger so late
in the evening, Beth shrank back into the doorway.
On the wall opposite was a large looking-glass, and suddenly
reflected in it were four girls.
She gasped in shock, for they weren't the kind of sedate
young ladies she had expected to see, but scantily dressed
floozies, their breasts and legs partially revealed as their brightly coloured satin and lace garments fluttered around
them.
It was very obvious what they were, and indeed what diis
house was, for Amy and Kate had shown her similar garments
more than once. Even Ira had a special section in her
shop where she kept such things.
All four girls, a blonde, two brunettes and one redhead,
were young and pretty, and they were all giggling at a shared
joke.
'If he's not done in ten minutes I'll make him give me
another ten dollars,' the redhead said, spluttering with
laughter.
Beth took a step backwards on to the stairs to the basement
and quietly closed the door, so shocked that she no
longer cared if she had a wash. She wanted to believe that
there could be another explanation, but she knew there
couldn't be.
Theo had brought her to a brothel.
Chapter Twenty

Beth lay rigid in the narrow bed, too upset to sleep. It was
very quiet in the basement, but if she strained her ears she
could just make out the sound of laughter and the tinkling
sounds of a piano from above.
It was bad enough to think that women were selling their
bodies to men up there, but she was even more affronted
that Theo would bring her here without any warning.
Could it be that he thought she was too stupid or too
innocent to realize what this house was? Or was there a
more sinister reason, namely, that he was planning to recruit
her to the business?

She had no idea what time it was when she finally heard
Jack's and Sam's voices outside in the passage, but she
guessed it to be well after one in the morning. Leaping out
of bed, stopping only long enough to throw a shawl over
her nightdress, she ran barefoot to the room next door.
'Beth!' Sam exclaimed. We weren't expecting you so
soon.'
'Are you feeling better now?' Jack asked.
It was clear both of them had been drinking for they were
unsteady on their feet and had glazed eyes.
She blurted out what she had seen and how upset she
was that Theo hadn't warned her. 'Did he tell you what this
place was before you got here?' she asked.
'Well, yes,' Jack said a little sheepishly. 'But he said we'd
be down in the basement with no connection with what

I






254

I
went on upstairs. We don't even use that door, we come in
through the basement one.'
'Don't take on, sis,' Sam said, slurring his words a little.
'It's just a place to stay until we get something else, and
we've already got work. Besides, it ain't as if you've never
met any whores before. Kate and Amy were your friends.'
Beth had naively imagined that Sam had never known
what her friends back in New York did for a living, and she
felt awkward then. 'But Theo didn't tell me,' she wailed.
'Go back to bed,' Sam said impatiently. 'Yeah, Theo is a
bit of a cad, why'd you think I didn't want to leave you
with him? But we've got a good place to live, work and
everything's just dandy. We'll talk about it tomorrow.'
Beth looked beseechingly at Jack but he just shrugged.
'There's worse places than whorehouses,' he said.

It was barely light the following morning when Beth heard
Theo's voice. It sounded as if he was in the kitchen upstairs
talking to someone. Full of fury that he'd not only betrayed
her but corrupted her brother and friend too, she flung on
her clothes and raced up there.
He was sitting calmly at the table, drinking a cup of
coffee and talking to Pearl. His mussed-up hair and the dark
shadow on his chin proved he'd been out all night.
'How could you do this to me?' she raged at him, before he
could even say good morning. 'You led me to believe you were
taking me somewhere respectable. This is a whorehouse!'
She didn't care if she offended Pearl, and when he laughed
at her indignation she wanted to slap his handsome face.
'Come now, Beth,' he said, patting the chair next to him
as if inviting her to sit down. 'Do you really think anyone
entirely respectable would take in people on the run from
New York thugs?'

That was something Beth hadn't considered and it took
the wind out of her sails.
'I think you should be very grateful that a good person
like Pearl was prepared to risk having trouble brought to
her door,' he added reprovingly.
Beth glanced at Pearl, who was still in her night clothes
with a littie lacy cap over her hair. Her kindly face was full
of concern and Beth felt a little ashamed of her outburst,
for the woman had welcomed her so warmly last night. It
also seemed that Pearl wasn't a mere housekeeper, but the
owner of the house. 'You could have warned me,' she said
weakly. 'It was such a shock.'
"You ought to have been smart enough to work it out for
yourself.' Theo sighed, running his fingers through his hair.
'You've been in Heaney's pay for months now, you worked
in a shop where most of the New York whores buy their
clothes, I would've thought that would have opened your
eyes to reality. Besides, you lost your respectable image the
first time you played in a saloon.'
Beth stared at him for a moment, hardly able to believe
what he'd just said, but then, as it dawned on her that he
was probably right, she burst into tears.
It was Pearl who moved to comfort her.
'There now, don't take on,' she said, enfolding Beth
against her large bosom. 'No harm's going to come to you
here, you don't even have to meet my girls less you want to.
But if you're set on earning a living playing your fiddle, then
you've got to live with being seen as a floozy.'
'But why?' Beth sobbed. 'No one thinks anything bad
about a man who plays an instrument. I'm not a bad girl, I
just love music'
'It's a man's world, honey. Dancers, singers, actresses
and musicians, they all get branded the same,' Pearl said

I

I



soothingly. 'You can choose to be Miss Prim, go-to-church
on-Sunday, but that means you have to dress quiet, and find
respectable employment and lead a dull life. But if you
choose to be Miss Sassy the fiddle-player who sleeps till
noon and has a heap of fun, you've got to learn not to give
any mind to what people say.'
'What's it to be then, Beth?' Theo asked. 'Because I've
got a debut lined up for you tonight.'
Beth disengaged herself from Pearl's arms, wiped her eyes
and looked into his dark ones, hoping to see love in them.
She could see amusement, but that was all.
'Then I guess I'll have to play,' she said airily. 'It wouldn't
do to let you down after you've gone to so much trouble.'
Maybe if she continued to amuse him he'd come to love
her.

'There you are, honey,' Pearl said as she handed over Beth's
red dress which she'd just pressed for her. 'And I've got a
real pretty red hair ornament you can borrow if you like.'
It was six in the evening and Beth had managed to
overcome her shock about the nature of the house, for no
one could have been kinder than Pearl.
After their words that morning, Theo had disappeared
off to his room which was further along the passage in the
basement. Pearl told her that Jack and Sam wouldn't surface
until noon, and it seemed the girls upstairs were late-risers
too.
After washing and dressing properly Beth went back
upstairs to offer Pearl some help with the chores for she felt
bad about her earlier rudeness. Pearl's wide smile showed
she appreciated the offer, but she promptly brewed another
pot of coffee and made it quite clear she was happier just to
chat than worry too much about chores.

Beth had seen many negroes in Liverpool, and even more
since she arrived in America, but Pearl was the first she'd
ever had a real conversation with. She was intelligent, witty
and kind. Even her voice was a delight to listen to for it was
low and melodious, with just a hint of the Deep South.
But the most astonishing thing about her was her age.
Her face was unlined, she moved gracefully and quickly
despite her bulk, and Beth had imagined she was no more
than forty. But if the stories she told were true, and Beth
did believe them, then she was over sixty, and she laughingly told Beth that the reason she covered her head with a turban
or a cap was because her hair was snow-white.
She said she had been born into slavery in Mississippi,
but she and her mother had run away when she was thirteen
and been helped by some Abolitionists in Kansas.
'Folk were making their way west then in wagon trains,'
she explained. 'They were mostly good folk too and we
tagged along helping them out with their children, the washing
and the cooking in return for food. We meant to go all
the way to Oregon, but a story got about that men had
found gold in San Francisco, and a whole bunch of the folk
on the train broke away to go there. Ma thought we should
go too cos we could get work as cooks.'
Beth listened spellbound while Pearl described making
their way over the Sierra Nevada to California as winter
came upon them. 'It was so cold and the snow so deep we
feared we'd die up there, like some of the others did,' she
said. 'But we got through to San Francisco somehow. There
weren't too many women there then, and it was a wild,
rough place, but Ma was right, cooks were badly needed.
We set up our tent as soon as we got there, made a big pot
of stew and sold it ten cents a bowl as quick as look at you.'
Beth was expecting that Pearl would soon be telling her

that she and her mother eventually found it easier to sell
their bodies than their stews, but she was wrong. They
continued cooking, gradually increasing both their prices
and the range of dishes. They charged miners for washing
and mending their clothes, and even opened a 'hotel'.
'It sure weren't like no hotel you'd recognize.' Pearl
chuckled. 'Just a big tent, and our lodgers got a straw-filled
palliasse on the ground, and provided their own blankets.
We made a bath-house out the back too. I could hardly lift
those buckets of hot water off the fire, they were so heavy.
But we made money, more than we'd ever dreamed of. We
got a real hotel built in '52, a fancy place with furniture
and mirrors brought all the way from France, but by then
respectable women were arriving and they didn't want to
stay in a place owned by darkies. They were real mean to
us; if they'd had their way they'd have got us run out of
town. So Ma turned the place into a brothel to teach them
a lesson.'
She laughed uproariously at this, and Beth joined in, for
by then she was seeing the scene through Pearl's eyes. 'But
surely that would get you run out of town even quicker?'
she said, spluttering with laughter.
Pearl put her hands on her wide hips and rolled her eyes.
'Ma knew a thing or two about men, especially those stuffed
shirts who ran the city. She hired the kinda girls that turned
those men inside out and made them come back howling
for more. The polite ladies brayed for the place to be closed
down, and their men nodded and agreed, but those same
men slunk in the back way any chance they got.'

Beth could see why men would prefer the company of
Pearl and her mother . . . She could imagine those sharp
featured, cold-hearted wives gossiping over afternoon tea,
while their pompous but sex-starved husbands indulged

themselves elsewhere. 'And what about you?' she asked.
'What role did you play in the business?'
'By day I cleaned rooms, cooked and did the laundry, but
by night I sang in the saloon,' Pearl said. 'I was never a
whore. I ain't saying there weren't men in my bed. But
I never took no money for it.'
Beth could believe that. "Were you a good singer?' she asked.
'They said so,' Pearl replied modesdy. 'I loved to sing
right from a small child; to me it was as natural as breathing.
I had to sing, it was like my spirit being allowed to fly free.
But I guess you feel the same way about playing your fiddle.
I was young and pretty then too, I loved the attention, to
be dressed in silk and satin, to have men looking at me as if
I was their love. I'd come a long way from being a barefoot
and hungry slave at the mercy of the master.'
Beth guessed that the reason Pearl's mother ran away
with her daughter was probably because she wanted to
protect her from that master. Although Beth hadn't suffered
the kind of hardships Pearl had experienced, she understood
that need to perform. 'I feel just like that when I'm playing,'
she agreed. 'I know I haven't been a slave, but you can still
feel bound by your background and the way you've been
brought up.'
'Respectability.' Pearl nodded sagely. 'Well, I've never had
that, I never will. But I get respect from my girls, and the I
men who come here. That's all I need.'¦
She went on to tell Beth that her mother was knocked
down by a carriage and crippled, and it was her belief it was
no accident. Her mother never walked again and Pearl had
to take care of her and the business. 'But I stayed on there
till she died ten years later. I wasn't going to let them win,'
she said proudly. 'Then I sold the place and came here and
bought this one.'

'Why here?' Beth asked. ¦
Pearl smiled. 'A man, honey, why else would I come clear
across the country?'
'Is he Frank, the friend Theo mentioned?'
Pearl nodded. 'He's good to me and a real gentleman, but
a gambler and a charmer like Theo. Now, you listen closely
to my advice! Don't go dreaming of happy ever after. It
don't come with men like Frank or Theo. You have the
good times with him, but make sure you hold on to the
money you earn and anything he gives you. Give him your
body freely, but don't give him your heart, for he'll break it.'
Beth was just going to try to get Pearl to enlarge on that
when the girls began coming down to the kitchen. The
blonde with the sulky expression was Missy, the two brunettes
Lucy and Anna, and the beautiful redhead was Lola.
Missy, Lucy and Anna were no more than eighteen, Lola
perhaps twenty-three. All of them were wearing dressing
gowns and slippers, their faces pale from lack of fresh air.
Beth sensed they weren't entirely happy at finding a
strange girl in their midst and she made her excuses and
went back to the basement to see if Sam and Jack were
awake.
They were, but both had sore heads from the previous
night's drinking. Jack went off to the kitchen to get them
coffee and give Beth a chance to speak to her brother alone.

'I've kind of got over the shock of staying in a brothel,'
she said cautiously. 'I've been talking to Pearl and I like her.
I guess last night I panicked, but that was Theo's fault. He
should've warned me.'
'I was worried about how you'd react,' Sam admitted.
'Pearl made me see things from a different viewpoint,'
Beth said. 'But enough of that. Tell me what you and Jack
are doing.'

'I'm managing the Bear, a big saloon just a few streets
from here,' Sam said. 'Jack's learning the ropes, the bar and
the cellar. But Frank Jasper, the owner, runs several gambling
places and he's training me in that. He's great, sis,
nothing like Heaney, a real Southern gentleman.'
Beth smiled. She wondered if he knew that Frank was, or
had been, Pearl's lover. Somehow she doubted it, Sam wasn't
as interested in people as she was. 'Are the wages good?'
she asked.
'We haven't been here long enough to see how it will go,'
he said. 'But he gave us both ten dollars last night and said
he'd talk to us about it in the New Year. We don't have to
pay for our keep here either, and Pearl is a great cook.'
'Theo said I would be making my debut tonight. Is it to
be in your place?'
'I guess so, because as soon as we got here Frank wanted
to know when you'd be coming. It seems Theo told him
about you some time ago. You'll go down well, sis, it's a
good place, not a rough house like Heaney's.'
'How do you get on with the girls upstairs?' Beth raised
her eyebrows enquiringly.
Sam grinned mischievously. 'Pearl doesn't let them give
free ones, she made that quite clear on our first night here.
And anyway, we've hardly seen them. Only time we go up
there is when Pearl calls us for our dinner.'
They talked for a little while, Beth telling him about how
it was over Christmas.
'I hope Theo behaved himself.' Sam sniffed. 'I like him,
but I don't trust him.'
'Pearl seems to think highly of him.'
'She just likes men,' Sam said wisely. 'And I guess at
her age she doesn't need to worry about whether they can be
trusted. But now you're here, Jack and I will look out for you.'

'I can look out for myself, thank you,' Beth said, but she
softened the remark with a smile. 'I'll leave you now to get
up and dressed, and perhaps you and Jack will take me out
and show me around while it's still daylight. I don't want to
get a pasty face like the girls upstairs.'

The hair ornament Pearl gave Beth was a pearl-studded
comb with a spray of red feathers. 'Frank gave that to me
when we first met back in 'Frisco,' she said as she fixed it
into Beth's hair, up in the kitchen. 'It was my lucky charm,
and I wore it every time I sang. You look even prettier with
it than I did, and I think Frank will be pleased to see it again.
He'll know I like you.'
Beth went into the hallway to look at herself in the big
mirror. The brisk walk around the town with Sam and Jack
had put colour back into her cheeks, and the way Pearl had
caught up some of her curls at the side of her head with the
comb made her look more sophisticated. She had always
been a little nervous about the red dress because the neckline
was low, but the feathers in her hair seemed to balance it
better.
Pearl was watching Beth from the kitchen and she smiled
to herself. The girl looked a picture with her.black curls
tumbling around her creamy shoulders. Such a pretty,
expressive face, wide eyes, plump lips, the kind of girl any
man would want.
She wished she could go to the Bear tonight to hear her
play, but her place was here. Frank would tell her about it
anyway.

As Sam and Jack had left for work some time earlier, Theo
escorted Beth to the Bear. He was wearing his usual evening
attire of a snowy-white shirt, bow tie, impeccably cut tail

coat and top hat, with his heavy satin-lined cloak flung
loosely over his shoulder.
'The Bear got its name because in an old ale house
somewhere nearby, the owner kept a bear out the back,'
Theo said as they walked down the street. 'If anyone made
any trouble he would threaten to throw them out with the
bear.'
Beth knew he was nervous because he often told her old
stories when he wanted to conceal his feelings. She didn't
know if he was worried that she might not live up to his
expectations tonight or might be about to complain again
about staying in a brothel. Or perhaps he was just a bit
apprehensive because he would be playing cards later.
She didn't ask, for she was so scared herself that she
thought she might be sick. Sweet reason told her that if she
could play in Heaney's, she could play anywhere. But back
there she'd never had anyone championing her; if she failed,
it would only be she who lost face. She knew Theo, Sam
and Jack must all have sung her praises, so if she was a
disaster, they'd look foolish.
Her stomach churned alarmingly as they walked into the
Bear. It was much bigger than Heaney's, and the high ceiling
and narrow windows set in eight feet up above the ground
indicated it had been built as a warehouse, but a new wood
floor had been added. A long bar ran right down one side;
on the other, a raised area behind a low balustrade held
tables and chairs. At the far end opposite the door was a
stage. The new electric lighting had been put in, twinkling
in the vast mirror behind the bar.
It was already very busy, men three deep at the bar waiting
to be served, and another couple of waiters taking orders
from those sitting in the raised section. There was an entirely
different kind of atmosphere to Heaney's too, perhaps

because there were more women. Not the kind of low types
that Beth was used to seeing in saloons, but ordinary, neatly
and soberly dressed women, the kind who might work in
offices or shops. She felt afraid of playing in front of them,
sure they would not approve of her.
She could see both Sam and Jack serving, but they didn't
appear to have noticed her.
'I'll take you in to meet Frank now,' Theo said, taking her
arm and leading her briskly through the tables.
Beth clutched at her fiddle case with both hands as they
went through a door beside the stage, down a short passageway
and then stopped outside another door while Theo
knocked.
'He's a good man. Don't be scared,' he whispered.

Frank Jasper was a huge, bull-like man, with a bald head,
thick neck, splayed nose and pockmarked skin. He looked
like a man who had come up the hard way, but his elegant
evening clothes were evidence of his success.
'So this is your little fiddle player,' he said to Theo after
he'd looked Beth up and down. 'I sure hope she's as good
as you claim or they'll throw her to the bear.'
Beth had no idea then that Frank was in the habit of
using the bear his saloon was named after as a joke. She
thought he meant his customers were very hard to please
and she quaked in her boots. The size of the saloon was
smother worry -- she wasn't sure if she would even be heard
over a couple of hundred noisy drinkers.
The men left her alone in Frank's office for at least twenty
nail-biting minutes. Frank hadn't told her how long she'd
got to play for, or even what numbers she was going to play,
and as she waited she thought she'd sooner be a laundry
maid than face this kind of terror. She was just considering

looking to see if there was a back door she could slip out
of when Jack came in to get her.
'I'm too scared,' she admitted. 'I won't be able to play a
note.'
Even he looked unfamiliar in his striped barman's apron
and bow tie, and the noise from the saloon was becoming
more raucous by the minute.
Jack put his arms around her. 'You'll be fine, Beth, you
aren't up there on your own, Frank's got a double bass
player and a pianist with you.'
'He has?' Beth instantly felt more confident. 'But why
didn't he tell me?'
'Maybe he wanted to see if you'd lose your nerve,' Jack
said with a grin. 'You go on in there and show him what
you're made of.'
Beth slipped off her coat and lifted her fiddle and bow
from the desk where she'd left it after tuning up. 'I'm ready.'
As Jack opened the door through to the bar, she heard
someone ringing a bell for silence.
Then Frank spoke, welcoming his customers to the Bear,
and Jack held Beth back, indicating she was to wait until she
was introduced. 'Most of you already know Herb on piano,
and of course Fred on double bass,' Frank said. 'But some
of you have been saying you wanted someone good to look
at too. So tonight, for the very first time in Philadelphia,
we've got a real live English doll to play. I heard tell they
called her Gypsy in New York, cos she set all their feet
a-tapping with her fiddle-playing. So a big hand now for
Miss Beth Bolton!'
'Go,' Jack said, and gave her a push towards the stage
steps.
Hearing applause again was like taking a big swig of rum,
and Beth ran up the stairs and bowed to the audience, then

quickly turned to the pianist, an older man with a mournful
face. '"Kitty O'Neill's Champion"?' she asked.
'Sure thing,' he said with a smile and then a nod to the
double bass player.
The two musicians played an introduction and Beth
smiled at the audience as she tucked her fiddle firmly under
her chin and lifted her bow. Her fear was gone now, she
was back on stage where she belonged, playing one of her
favourite Irish-American folk songs. She was going to be
Miss Sassy from now on, and touch the heart of every man
in the bar.

Frank took his cigar from his lips and leaned closer to Theo
across the table. 'You didn't string me a line this time -- she's red-hot.'
Theo nodded and smiled. His heart was bursting with
pride, for Beth wasn't just hot, she was burning the whole
place up. He'd been afraid she might have lost her fire
because of that ordeal in the cellar, but she was playing even
better than she had at Heaney's.
He and Frank were at a table on the raised platform at
the side of the saloon with an excellent view of the stage.
Beth looked very small up there, like a scarlet flame in her
red dress. She'd won the crowd with 'Kitty O'Neill', but
then she'd gone on to play 'Tom Dooley', 'Days of '49' and
'The Irish '69', all numbers that meant a great deal to
Americans. But she really came into her own with her fast
Irish jigs, and down in the main part of the room they could
see a hundred heads nodding and feet tapping.
Theo smirked at Frank. 'So I win the hundred bucks?'
'Sure, you son of a gun. She's good. I guess Pearl took to
her too, she's wearing her feathers.'
Theo picked up his whisky and drank it down in one. He

was a happy man: he'd won his bet, Sam and Jack had
proved to be assets, and he had all the gaming tables in
Philadelphia awaiting him. And his little gypsy to seduce.
Chapter Twenty-one

'So what do you think of my new home?' Theo asked. 'Are
you shocked into silence because of its grandeur?'
Beth giggled. She'd had a few too many drinks at the Bear
tonight and Theo had sweet-talked her into coming back
here with him.
He was joking about the grandeur. It was just two rooms
above a coach house, not unlike the ones she and Sam had
lived in at Falkner Square. The furnishings were much nicer
though -- thick curtains, a bright rug on the floor and an old
brocade couch that wouldn't have looked out of place in a
country mansion. But its real appeal was the heat coming
from the enamelled pot-bellied stove in the centre of the
living room. Outside in the street the snow was three feet
deep, and Beth had expected that it would be equally cold
inside.
'I'm impressed by the tidiness and the warmth,' she said,
speaking slowly so she didn't slur her words.
'That I cannot take credit for,' Theo replied, opening the
door of the stove and putting another shovel of coal into it.
'I have a maid. Actually she belongs to the people I am
renting this place from, but I crossed her palm with silver
and now she takes care of me too. She is old and as ugly as
sin, but I appreciate how comfortable she makes me.'
Beth smiled. Theo was destined always to have some
woman waiting on him hand and foot. Pearl hadn't wanted
him to leave her place, for he had charmed her just as he
had Miss Marchment and Miss Doughty before her.

' That will keep it going all night,' Theo said as he closed the
stove door. 'Now, let me take your coat and get you a drink.'
It was the beginning of March now, but even when the
church bells had rung out on New Year's Eve to welcome
in 1896, and she'd only been in Philadelphia a couple of
days, Beth knew she was going to be happy here.
Pearl's genteel Federal-style house in Spruce Street
showed no outward signs of what went on behind its shiny,
black-painted door, yet close by in Camac Street and the
many narrow alleys that ran off it, brothels, gambling dens
and taverns abounded. Respectable people bemoaned the
crime and brawling, but to Beth and the boys the whole area
was an extraordinarily colourful and joyous conclave of free
spirits, who were not bound by the rigid social mores that
prevailed elsewhere in the city.
The Bear was situated between Pearl's and Camac Street.
Although the majority of its clientele were hard-working artisans
who lived in the area, the number of artists, musicians,
dancers and actors who frequented it too attracted many
middle- and upper-class people who liked being seen in a
place deemed risque.
Beth had it pointed out to her that many of the men who
slipped into Pearl's or other brothels on a Friday night were
professional men and captains of industry. She had heard
too about ladies of quality who sent their servants off to get
them opium from the dives along the wharves. Even Ma
Connelly, the tiny Irishwoman who assisted with unwanted
pregnancies, claimed to have more genteel customers than
whores or domestic servants.
Philadelphia meant 'The City of Brotherly Love', and it
certainly was a more friendly place than New York, lacking
the often menacing and dangerous edge she'd sensed there.
There was perhaps just as much poverty, especially amongst

the negro and Irish communities, but by and large immigrants
appeared more settled here, and the different nationalities
more integrated.
It had been terribly cold. On her nineteenth birthday in
February there had been a blizzard with drifts of snow feet
thick. But Pearl's kitchen was always warm, and the Bear
was only a few streets away. When she got back late at night
there was always a hot brick in her bed, and she'd wake in
the morning to the smell of frying bacon or pancakes.
On the nights she didn't play her fiddle, she still worked
at the saloon, serving drinks and collecting glasses, and she
got to hear other musicians and singers. She'd made many
friends too, with both the customers and the other staff.
Frank Jasper had a reputation for being hard-headed and
ruthless, but Beth had found him to be jovial and fair
minded. All the money customers put into the hat for the
musicians was divided between them equally, and he didn't
take a percentage of it. But then, he was a real music lover,
and he took pride in seeking out and nurturing new talent.
Some nights he got Beth merely to accompany other
musicians or singers, other nights she was the star turn, but
whether she was playing, or just watching and listening from
the floor, she was constantly learning, and she sensed that
was Mr Jasper's intention.
He was a great enthusiast of the Italian Paganini, and the
Spaniard Pablo Sarasate, both great violinists, and he'd been
fortunate enough to hear Sarasate play at a concert in New
York. Miss Clarkson had told Beth about these two men,
and taken her to a concert where the orchestra played
some of their music, so she could understand Mr Jasper's
enthusiasm. Theo had said he would take her to some
concerts here in Philadelphia to broaden her knowledge of
other musicians.


Homesickness for England was a thing of the past. Beth
wrote to the Langworthys just as regularly, and looked forward
eagerly to their letters with news of Molly, but she no
longer ached to go home.
It was living at Pearl's that had changed Beth's outlook
the most. It was hard to disapprove of what went on in the
house when she heard so much laughter and gaiety from
the rooms above. She'd got to know all the girls, and none
of them were hapless creatures who had been forced into
the profession. They had chosen it. Some just wanted easy
money, some were adventurers, and Missy had admitted to
Beth she loved sex and saw no reason why she shouldn't be
paid for having it too.
Pearl's entire house had a seductive atmosphere, with the girls' scent, cigar smoke and the tinkling of the piano in the
parlour. Even the laundry room down by Beth's bedroom
was always festooned with scanty silk and lace garments.
Late at night, when she heard the sounds of bedsprings
creaking, Beth found herself yearning to be in bed with
Theo, to discover all that joy the girls alluded to.
She loved him, and she was reasonably secure that he
cared for her too, for why else would he turn up at the end
of an evening to escort her home, take her out for luncheon
or bring her little presents of chocolates, flowers or a decoration
for her hair? Pearl had pointed out that red-blooded
men needed sex, and if they didn't get it from the one they
loved, they went elsewhere. She said only a fool would
believe otherwise. And Pearl should know: a constant stream
of married and betrothed men came to her door every
evening.
It seemed to Beth that once this hurdle was cleared, Theo
would give up his disappearing acts and be more open about
every aspect of his life. Marriage wasn't as important to her

as it had once been. She just wanted him to say that she was
his girl and make plans that included her.

Beth sat down on the couch as Theo poured her a glass of
wine. 'Are you warm enough?' he asked, handing it to her.
'Yes, thank you,' she replied, suddenly nervous. She loved
his kisses and being held and caressed by him, but she had
no real knowledge of what came next, whether Theo would
undress her, or if she had to do that. Would it hurt her?
And would he know how to make sure she didn't end up
with a baby?i
Beth had made it her business to find out from Pearl how
women could protect themselves. There were douches and
tiny sponges which she'd seen, and learned the theory of
how they worked. But it was all theory. Pearl had said that
rubber sheaths for men were what she advocated, but she
had added that most men were reluctant to use them.
Theo sat down beside her and watched as she took a gulp
of her wine. 'What's going on in that pretty head?' he asked.
'Just that it is a big step coming here with you,' she
replied.
He looked tenderly at her, then took her glass away and
put his arms around her. 'I'm not going to hurt you,' he
said softly. 'I only want to show you the delights of lovemaking.'

He kissed her then, the tip of his tongue flitting in and
out of her lips in a way that always made her belly tighten
and her nipples grow hard. In the past such kisses had either
taken place late at night in the cold as they walked home, or
standing in the corridor of the basement at Pearl's, with Jack
or Sam expected back at any minute, so Beth was always
tense.
But she was warm now, no one was going to interrupt,


and she willingly succumbed to the bliss, moulding herself
into his body and letting her anxieties flow away.
'Ummm,' he sighed, running one finger down her cheek,
her throat and into the valley of her cleavage. 'I've waited
for this for so long.'
With just one finger he gently pulled back the bodice of
her dress and the lace-trimmed camisole beneath it to reveal
her right breast while looking into her eyes, his face just a
couple of inches from hers. His finger met her erect nipple
and he smiled before putting his head down to take it in
his lips.
Beth involuntarily gasped, for she had never felt anything
quite so wonderful as his sucking, licking and biting. She
shamelessly held his head and arched her body towards him
as a glorious tingle rushed all over her.
He had both her breasts fully exposed now and went
from one to the other, kissing, caressing and sucking, and
the sight of his rapturous expression in the soft light from
the lamp heightened her pleasure still further.
'Too many clothes,' he murmured. 'I want to see your
body and kiss it all over.'
Her dress had tiny buttons right down the back. He
moved her to sit up in front of him and with his left hand
still playing with her nipples he unbuttoned it, all the while
kissing her neck and shoulders as he peeled it down. Laces
were untied, her stays dropping to the floor, and suddenly
she was sitting there, her naked upper body incongruous
with her dress and petticoats ballooning around her waist.
He dropped to his knees in front of her, taking the pins
and feathered ornament out of her hair and running his
fingers through her curls, as he kissed her long and hard.
Beth could feel her private parts growing wet and hot and
she was kissing him back feverishly, wanting still more.

Theo got up from his knees, taking her with him, and as
he kissed her he pushed her dress, petticoats and drawers
down over her hips. Bending to take her nipple into his
mouth again, his hand slipped in between her legs and slid
one finger into her.
Beth was beyond caring that she was allowing a man to
take such liberties with her. Her heart was racing, her breath
hot and fierce, and she was shamelessly moving against his
finger and moaning out how much she liked it.
Her clothes were kicked aside. She was naked apart from
her stockings and boots, and he pushed her down on to the
couch where he did the most appallingly rude yet thrilling
things to her.
He had shed his jacket and tie at some stage -- she recalled
pulling his shirt out of his trousers so she could feel his
back and chest -- but he made no attempt to unbutton his
trousers. She could feel the hardness of him against her, yet
it was as if he was holding back his own desires while he
fulfilled all hers.
It was much, much later before he moved her into the
bedroom next door, and only then did he take off the rest
of his clothes. The sheets felt very cold and stiff against her
overheated skin, and he knelt up for a moment beside her
and placed her hand on his rigid sex. It seemed huge, and
the knowledge that soon he was going to put it inside her
gave her a moment of fear.
He must have sensed it for he lay down beside her and
kissed her. 'We don't have to go any further if you aren't
ready for it,' he whispered.
But the heat of his body and the fingers that stroked and
teased her banished the fear, and as he kissed her again she
opened her legs willingly and arched her back to receive him.

Pearl had told Beth that if a man really cared for a woman
he would withdraw before spending his seed. Theo did that.
As Beth tentatively touched the sticky substance on her belly,
she felt she'd been given all the reassurance she needed.
It had hurt just a little, and she was a little sore now too,
but that didn't matter. Theo had transported her to heaven,
and surely he couldn't do that unless he loved her as much
as she loved him.

Beth turned to look at Theo asleep in bed as she buttoned
up her boots and put on her coat. It was daybreak and there
was just enough light to see the dark shadow coming on
his chin and the softness of his mouth. She thought she
ought to be ashamed of how abandoned she'd been, but she
didn't, she only felt joyful. Yet she still determined to leave
and get home to Pearl's before anyone knew she'd been out
all night. She wasn't brave enough to be blatant about her
immorality.
She went to kiss Theo's cheek, breathing in the heady,
musky smell of him, but he didn't stir. Then she tiptoed out
of the room, closing the door quietiy behind her.
It was raw out on the street, with ice on places where the
snow had been cleared or trampled. She paused in the
doorway to pull her rubber galoshes over her boots and put
on her gloves, then walked quickly away with a spring in her
step.

'Wake up, Beth!'
Beth opened one eye to see Sam with a lighted candle in
his hand. 'What time is it?' she asked.
'The middle of the night, but we've got to leave.'
It was the tone of his voice that made her sit up, not his
actual words. He sounded terrified.

'Leave? Why?'
'Something happened at tonight's game,' he said. 'It will
take too long to explain now, but I'm in deep trouble and
we've got to get away right now.'

It was September, they had been in Philadelphia for nine
months, and it had been the happiest time Beth had ever
known. She had felt so secure, with Theo, her success as a
musician and living here at Pearl's. She couldn't believe that
Sam could have done something to destroy it.
'You'll tell me what you've done,' she demanded. 'I'm not
going anywhere until I know.'
'A man is dead, that's all you need to know for now,' he
said breathlessly.
Her brother's face was in shadow for he'd put the candle
down, but she sensed his shame and anguish.
'At the poker game tonight?' she asked.
'Yes. One of the men accused Theo of cheating and
pulled a knife on him. I tried to get him off Theo and ended
up with the knife. But as God is my witness, I didn't mean
to kill him.' He broke off, covering his face with his hands.
Beth understood enough and leapt out of bed. 'Where's
Theo now?'
'Gone to his place to pack. He'll be round for us with a
cab.'
'Turn your back while I get dressed,' Beth ordered him
and flung off her nightdress. She felt sick with fear and
wanted no part in this, but they were the two most important
people in her life and she had to support them. 'Theo asked
that I come too?' she demanded as she struggled into her
petticoats.
'We can't leave you here to face the music,' he said weakly.
'Jack's coming as well.'

'Jack was involved too?' Beth's voice rose an octave.
'He only helped us get away.'
Beth's eyes were prickling with tears and she could barely
fasten her stays, her fingers were trembling so much. 'What
about Pearl and Frank?'
'We weren't at Frank's place, we won't be in trouble with
him. I wish we could tell Pearl about it now and prepare
her, but we can't, Beth. We've got to get out now.'
Jack appeared in the room just as Beth had finished
dressing. He was carrying Sam's and his own bag. Without
saying a word, he put them down on the floor and began
laying Beth's dresses on the bed and rolling them up to put
into her valise.
'So we've got to slip out of here like thieves in the night?'
Beth said. 'Not a word of thanks for all Pearl's done for us?'
'We'll write and apologize,' Sam said, hastily picking up
more of Beth's things and stuffing them into the valise. 'I'm
so sorry, sis.'

Less than ten minutes later the three of them with their
bags, and Beth carrying her fiddle case, were out in the dark
street, hurrying away to meet the cab around the corner.
It was already there. The horse made a shuffling sound
with its hooves as they approached and Theo leapt out.
'I'm so sorry, Beth,' he said as he helped her in. Til make
it up to you somehow.'
'Where are we going?' Beth asked as the cab moved away.
'Wherever the first train out takes us,' Theo replied.
Chapter Twenty-two

'I'm freezing,' Beth said, wrapping a muffler more firmly
around her neck as she and the boys made their way out of
Montreal station. 'If it's as cold as this when it's only
September, what will it be like in the middle of winter?'
The first train out of Philadelphia station was bound for
New York, but as Jack pointed out on the journey, it
wouldn't be wise to stay there for they'd soon be found.
At Grand Central station they saw there was a train going
to Canada just a couple of hours later. Theo thought that
was the perfect destination for them to escape American
justice.
'We won't be here that long. We'll just wait for the hue and
cry to die down, then we can go back,' Theo said blithely.
'We can't go back to Philly or New York,' Jack said. He
was shivering for he wore only a thin jacket. He'd accidentally
left his overcoat hanging on the door at Pearl's. 'But
maybe the West Coast of America, somewhere miles away,
and warm.'
It was now thirty hours since they'd left Philadelphia. It
had been a tedious, cold journey overnight, and none of
them had been able to doze for more than a few minutes at
a time. Beth felt as if her skin, hair and eyes were full of
grit, and although Montreal looked as civilized as anywhere
else she'd been, she hadn't expected it to be so cold.

'It isn't that cold, you're just feeling it because you're
tired,' Theo said, taking Beth's arm. We'll find a hotel. A
hot bath, breakfast, then a sleep will put everything right.'

'Nothing is going to make murder right,' she said
tersely.
'It was self-defence,' Theo retorted. 'The man had a knife
at my throat and he would have used it. To my mind Sam's
a hero -- he saved my life.'
Beth woke later to find Theo's arms wrapped around her.
For just a few moments she thought she was in his bed in
Philadelphia, and lay there listening to his soft breathing and
luxuriating in the warmth. Then she remembered where she
was, and why, and all the anger she'd struggled to suppress
on the journey here rose up.
It was pitch dark, but she didn't know if it was early
evening or the middle of the night. She was tempted to
thump Theo awake rudely and ask him; in fact she had a
great deal more to ask other than the time. But after a
moment or two's reflection she thought it better to put her
own mind in order before tackling him.
She wriggled out of his arms and the bed, took the comforter
from it and wrapped it around her, then went over to
the window and lifted the edge of the curtain to see out.
The street outside, which had been so busy with carts,
cabs and people when they'd booked into the hotel, was
silent now. All the shops and the saloon opposite were in
darkness and there was not a soul in sight. But there were
some lights in upstairs rooms across the street, and she
reckoned it must be after eleven at night.
Jack and Sam were sharing the room next door. Theo
had registered Beth as his wife, and although just a couple
of days ago she would have been pleased by him passing
her off that way, it grated now.
She knew Theo had been cheating at the card game
even though he swore he hadn't. He was too glib, overly
sympathetic to her being dragged out of bed in the middle

of the night, and he had used the crowded train as an excuse
not to explain how it all came about.
If it hadn't been for Jack's hasty explanation at New
York's Grand Central, when Theo went off to get tickets
to Montreal, Beth wouldn't have understood anything, for
Sam was still in shock and had said little on the long
journey.
In the past few months Jack's position at the Bear had
altered from being just a barman. He muscled in when
drunken brawls broke out: Beth had seen him in action
many times when she was playing. He was never aggressive,
but he had an instinct for sensing trouble before it turned
nasty, and mostly he could defuse it just with diplomacy.
But on the occasions this didn't work, he wasn't afraid to
steam in, crack the two warring men's heads together and
throw them out. Frank Jasper prized Jack for this, often
referring to him jokingly as 'My Right Hook'.
Because of Jack's iron-fist-in-a-velvet-glove talent, Frank
got him in at most private card games, ostensibly to serve
drinks but with security in mind. However, the last game
wasn't one run by Frank. It was organized by Rob Sheldon,
a man Frank despised as he was a slum landlord and well
known racketeer. Theo and Sam had asked Jack to come
along in case of trouble.
The game was in a warehouse down by the docks. The
other five players were not men who ever played at the Bear;
Theo had met them at other card games and knew them to
be high-rollers. But Sam and Jack had never met any of
them before, not even Sheldon.
Theo won the first couple of games but then began losing
heavily, and when they stopped for a break around two in
the morning, both Jack and Sam had advised him to cut his
losses and go home, as two of the other players had done.

But Theo refused, saying he felt his luck was about to
change.
The two remaining men who sat down to play with
Sheldon and Theo went by their nicknames, Lively and
Dixey. Theo won the first game, then lost on the second.
But the third and fourth he won and the stakes had grown
higher. He was up some five hundred bucks and had
pocketed his winnings to leave, when Sheldon, who had
been winning earlier in the evening, challenged him to one
last game.
Jack said he sensed trouble then. He said there was something
in the air that wasn't quite right. And he thought Theo seemed just a little too calm and confident as he sat down
to play again.
Sam dealt the cards and the game commenced. The
money on the table was growing. Dixey folded and left,
leaving Sheldon, Lively and Theo. Then Sheldon asked to
see Theo's cards.
He had four kings, which beat Sheldon's four of a kind.
T hadn't been watching the cards played that closely,'
Jack admitted. T was too busy keying an eye on Sheldon
because I felt he might turn nasty if he lost. But I was sure
that Dixey had one king when he folded. I guess Sheldon
thought that too, for he leapt out of his chair, screaming
that Theo had cheated and had another king up his sleeve.
Before Theo could even get up, Sheldon was on him and
pulled a knife out of his belt. He had it at Theo's throat.'
Jack demonstrated to Beth how Sheldon did this, with his
right hand at her throat and his left arm holding her captive.
'I was afraid to go round the table and break it up in case
he slit Theo's throat; he was savage enough to do it. And
there was Lively too, not a big geezer, but the kind that
would steam in if he believed Theo had cheated. So I tried

to calm both him and Sheldon by talking, I
even said if we
found another card up Theo's sleeve they could have all the
winnings. But Sheldon was shouting and swearing, getting
madder by the minute.
'Then all at once Sam was there behind them, wresting
the knife out of Sheldon's hand. I sped round the table to
help, Theo suddenly got free and the knife fell on the floor,
but then Lively started muscling in. He punched me in the
jaw, and Sam must have snatched up the knife from the
floor at the same time, because as I went to punch Lively
back, Sam was just standing there with the knife in his hand,
like he didn't know what to do.
'But Sheldon lunged towards him to get it back. That's
when Sam stuck him.'
Beth had tried to get Sam to give his version of what
happened. While he couldn't explain it as lucidly as Jack, it
was basically the same, except he insisted he didn't stab
Sheldon. He said the man just ran straight into the knife.
Theo's laconic view was that it hardly mattered how the
knife ended up in the man's belly. After all, Sheldon was
going to kill him and Sam stopped him.
But it did matter to Beth. There was a world of difference
between someone running into a knife and having it shoved
into them. And she blamed Theo for creating the anger in
Sheldon which turned her brother from a peace-loving card
dealer into a killer.
Lively ran off immediately he saw Sheldon was bleeding
profusely. Jack said he believed he'd gone to get a doctor,
but Theo said he was just saving his own skin.
Jack tried to staunch Sheldon's wound with his own shirt,
but the man died as he was doing so. So they collected up
all the money and cards from the table and left, leaving
Sheldon there with the knife still embedded in his belly.


I
28,
Beth wished she could feel, as Jack and Theo did, that
Sheldon was a vicious brute who had preyed on the weak
and defenceless all his life, and that he'd finally got his just
deserts. But he must have had a wife, and maybe children
who loved him.
Setting aside the crime, however, and the fact that the
three people she loved most were on the run, Beth felt angry
that the good life she'd had in Philadelphia was over.
She'd been so happy there. People admired her fiddle
playing and liked her as a person. She had made good money,
she'd bought nice new clothes, she could buy presents to
send home for Molly, she had even managed to save some
money too. Life had been fun, she really felt she was going
places, but now she would have to start all over again
without the support and affection she'd got from Frank
Jasper and Pearl.
Word would get around that Theo was cheating, and
Frank might wonder how often he'd cheated at his games,
and even whether the real reason Theo had to seek refuge
in Philadelphia was for the same thing.
He'd certainly start to wonder if he should have trusted
any of them, and regret getting Pearl to give them lodgings.
As for Pearl, Beth knew she would be very hurt that they'd
run off without even leaving a note of explanation for her.
Theo was supremely confident they wouldn't pass on any
information about them to the police, and he was probably
right because that was the code they lived by. But Beth had
built up a close relationship with Pearl, closer even than
with her own mother, and she felt she had let her down.
As Beth sat on the chair by the window in the dark, for
the first time since she'd embarked on her love affair with
Theo, she felt she hated him.
He'd hurt her so many times by disappearing, then

returning a week or two later without any explanation. She
knew he wormed his way into the parties and soirees of the
most wealthy and influential people in the city, and only a
fool would believe he wouldn't abandon her if a beautiful
heiress wanted him.
But he could turn her tears to laughter and her sad moods
to gay ones effortlessly with his abundant charm. He was
generous with both his money and affection. He made her
feel she was the most beautiful, talented woman in the
world, and when he made love to her he took her to heaven
and back, always thinking of her pleasure before his own.
But all this had made her see another side of him, a darker
one. She was absolutely certain he had cheated at that game.
Why did he have to do that? Surely the whole point of
gambling was taking the losing streaks with the winning
ones?
Was he a cheat at everything? Was he making love to
other women besides her? He had put Sam and Jack at risk.
Could he be trusted never to do that again?
A rustling sound across the room alerted her that he was
awake.
'Beth!' he said softly. 'Are you there?'
'Of course I am,' she snapped. "Where else would I be in
the middle of the night in a strange country?'
'Come back to bed,' he said.
'I don't think I ever want to be in a bed with you again,'
she retorted.
Theo struck a match and lit the candle. 'Why are you so
angry?'
He was wearing his undershirt, and with his dark hair all
tousled and a dark shadow on his chin he didn't look the
dapper gentleman he usually did.
'Because you are responsible for this,' she said, and moved


closer to the bed so she couldn't be overheard by any other
guests. We all had a good life in Philly; you've ended that.
Why did you have to cheat?'
He didn't answer for a moment and she waited for a
further denial.
'I know you did,' she said. 'Lie to the rest of the world if
you must, Theo. But not to me.'
'All right, I did cheat,' he admitted with a little tremor in
his voice. 'I wasn't going to see all my money vanish into
Sheldon's pocket.'
'But cheating is wrong.'
'I've been cheated too, lots of times.'
'But that doesn't make it right by you doing it as well.'
She was exasperated now. 'You put my brother in danger.
As it is, the police will be after him and if he's caught he
might be hanged, or whatever they do with murderers here.'
'It wasn't murder, it was an accident.'
'Accident, murder, a man is still dead and my brother is
on the run.'
'I doubt the police will even attempt to find out who did
it; they'll just think it was gang warfare. Sheldon was a thug,
not much different to Heaney in New York, no loss to the
country. And even if they do find out it was Sam, they can't
get him back from here. A couple of years and it will all be
forgotten.'
'Not by me, and I doubt by Sam either,' Beth said.
Theo lay back against the headboard and just stared at
her for some little while until Beth felt very uncomfortable.
'Are you going to stay being mad with me for much
longer?' he said eventually. 'Only it's the first time we've
had the chance to spend all night together without you
rushing off to pretend you've been in your own bed all night.
Can't we enjoy you being Mrs Cadogan instead of you

sitting out there freezing to death and looking like you
hate me?'
'This has all been a big shock to me,' she said, wishing
she could find the right words to make him see what he'd
done to her. 'I never wanted to go to Canada. As far as I know it's all wilderness and frozen up half the year -- what
will we do here?'
'There are bars and saloons in every corner of the world,'
he said with laughter in his voice. 'And I'm sure almost
every one of them would like to be entertained by you and
your fiddle. Look on it as a new adventure, Beth. You've
got your three musketeers with you to keep you safe. Now,
come to bed and let me show you how much I love you.'
'Do you?' she asked. Her heart leapt because he'd never
said that before.
'Of course I do,' he said, holding out a hand to her. 'I
felt something for you right from the night we met on
the Majestic. You looked so cold and pinched, but I liked the
way you answered me back. I tried to find you on the
morning we disembarked. But I didn't know your name,
nothing about you. When I eventually came across you
fiddling in Heaney's I was so thrilled. You were much
prettier than I remembered -- and your music!'
Beth had to smile then and she reached out to take his
hand. 'Promise you won't ever cheat again?' she said.
'Not you anyway,' he said. 'Now, come back to bed.'

Montreal was beautiful, a city of elegant new buildings,
wide roads, gracious squares and parks. Beth and the boys
particularly loved going to Mount Royal, the park laid out
on a mountain with a splendid view of the city and the busy
port.
They marvelled at the Victoria Bridge built across the


I
St Lawrence river, which people called the Eighth Wonder
of the World, and admired the New York Life building
where an elevator whizzed you up eight floors.
There was the Golden Mile with huge and beautiful mansions
where the rich lived. The Windsor Hotel was the
grandest hotel Beth, Sam and Jack had ever seen, and the
shops in St Catherine's Street were every bit as smart as New York's finest.
As September came to an end and the leaves on the trees
turned fiery red, russet, gold and brown, everywhere became
still more beautiful. But however lovely a city Montreal was, they could sense they were never going to find success here.
There were plenty of saloons, there were variety shows and
dance halls, but Montreal wasn't a liberal-minded city, the
character of the majority of its residents was staid, sober
and hard-working.
Sam and Jack both found jobs as barmen within a few
days of their arrival, but although they tried to persuade
their respective employers to give Beth a chance to charm
their customers, they refused. Without anyone actually
coming out and saying what they thought, it was clear they
believed any young woman prepared to step inside a saloon
was a whore.
Beth tramped round all the stores, hoping to be taken on
in one of them. But it seemed they only employed men as sales
clerks. If she saw a woman working in a shop, restaurant or
coffee shop, she was invariably related to the owner.
Theo found it almost impossible to get anyone even to
admit there was any gambling in the city, let alone get
himself invited to a game. For the first time in his life, his
English gentleman persona seemed to be working against
him. In Montreal it appeared the French liked to be seen as
the aristocrats, and he found them looking down on him. Yet


the ordinary working-class men, mainly first- and second
generation English and Scots, were suspicious of him too.
He still had most of the winnings from his last poker
game, but he wasn't prepared to use it just on living
expenses. He said he had to keep it for a stake when he
eventually found a way into a big poker game. Jack and Sam
had gone along with this at first, for they both wanted to
work in gambling circles and they needed Theo to get them
in. But as the weeks ticked by, while they worked long hours
for low wages, they had become resentful that Theo spent
his days sitting around drinking in smart places like the
cocktail bar in the Windsor Hotel while they were keeping
him and Beth.
They moved from the hotel to a guest house, then on to
a three-room flat, but even that was too expensive, bringing
back to Beth memories of the difficulties she and Sam had
when they first got to New York. Just as they had no choice
then but to settle for one room in a tenement on the Lower
East Side, now they had no alternative but to lower their
sights and get a place to live in Point St Charles.
Griffintown, or the Swamp as Point St Charles was often
called, was a slum area to the west of the city, between the
St Lawrence river and the Canadian Pacific railway tracks.
It had none of the beauty of the rest of the city which was
up on a hill, its skyline dotted with church spires. Down in
the Swamp, it was factories and heavy industry, tall chimneys
belching black smoke day and night.
There weren't the five-storey tenements that they'd grown
so used to seeing in New York, only small terraces of two
or three storeys, but it was a grim place and home to
the very poorest in Montreal. They found a tiny two-up,
two-down clapboard house in Canning Street, one of the
roughest parts, with high unemployment and large families.

Even those who did work probably brought home less than
ten dollars a week.

After living in comfort at Pearl's with indoor sanitation it
was miserable having to go back to an outside privy, especially
as it was so cold. They managed to buy a few pieces of
furniture from one of the hundreds of second-hand shops
in the area, but Beth had yet to summon up enthusiasm to
try to make the place a real home, for the boys just came
home to sleep, and Theo only dropped in now and then.

Josie, the Irishwoman who lived next door, got Beth a
job in a shirt factory with her. It was tedious, repetitive
work: she machined up the side seams of the shirts, someone
else put the collar on and the sleeves in.

As the autumn turned to winter and the first falls of snow,
Beth was frozen all day in that factory. She saw herself
becoming like the other women there, old before their time,
with stooped backs and poor eyesight. They were nearly all
Irish, and they had no choice but to accept the few dollars
a week because they had children to feed and often feckless
husbands who drank their wages away.

But at least they did have a husband. Beth was calling
herself Mrs Cadogan, and she washed Theo's shirts, socks
and underclothes so he could look smart, and cooked him
meals when he deigned to come home - everything a wife
would do. But it was Sam and Jack who appreciated her
home-making skills, it was they who hauled home coal for
the fire and comforted her when she felt everything was
hopeless. And she couldn't bring herself to tell them that
she was carrying Theo's child.
Chapter Twenty-three

Beth pulled her fur hat down more firmly over her ears and
stepped out into the thick snow with some trepidation for
it was five in the morning and very dark. The fur-lined boots
Jack had given her at Christmas kept her feet warm and dry,
but her long coat, skirt and petticoats gathered up snow as
she walked and hampered her movements.
Beth had been laid off by the shirt factory in early
December. She couldn't say she was sorry, for she'd grown to
hate the job. She found another one as a cook soon afterwards.
Theo, Sam and Jack had been horrified, and tried very
hard to talk her out of it as it was in a bunkhouse for
itinerant workers in the construction business. She insisted
she was going to take the job as there was nothing else on
offer, but on her first day, when she was confronted by forty
rough, tough, none too clean men of a dozen different
nationalities, she almost turned tail and ran. But the pay was
far better than at the shirt factory and it would be warm
there too.
The boys were afraid the men would take liberties with
her, but she'd found them to be respectful, protective and
appreciative. It was a very long day, from five in the morning
till seven at night, but after the breakfast was cleared away
and she'd done a few other tasks like sweeping out the
dormitories and cleaning the dining room, she could go
home for a couple of hours. But more often she stayed in
the bunkhouse, read a book or dozed by the stove until it
was time to prepare the evening meal.

She could have been really happy if it hadn't been for her
anxiety about telling Theo and the boys she was pregnant.
From early January, when it became harder to fasten her
skirt, each day she resolved to speak to them that evening.
But it was the end of February now, and she still hadn't
managed to do it.
It wasn't just cowardice because she feared the news
would be greeted with alarm. Most days she didn't even see
the boys because she went to work when they were still
asleep, and they were working when she got home. But even
on Sundays, when they were all home together, the time was
never right. One day Sam was excited about a pay rise, and
she didn't want to dampen his good mood; another time
Jack had fallen in the snow and hurt his leg, and she didn't
want to add to his worries. As for Theo, he couldn't be
relied on to be there even on Sundays, for he had finally
wormed his way into a group of wealthy men who liked to
play poker.
Theo lived a double life. To his new friends he was a
successful businessman with interests in America and
Canada. They had no idea that his real home was in the
notorious slum area. Or that he had no business other than
gambling.
While Beth didn't like him disappearing for days on end,
or the fact that she had no part in his other life, she was
admiring of his talent for duping people into believing he
was a man of means. He would book in at the Windsor
Hotel, then send notes to his friends inviting them to dine
with him. One night's accommodation and the price of the
dinner was usually enough to get him invited back to one
of their mansions in the Golden Mile, and there he would
stay for a week or so, being the perfect distinguished guest,
who often relieved his hosts of hundreds of dollars at poker.

Beth sometimes felt aggrieved that he lazed around in
luxury while she cooked for forty men, but she understood
he was working on getting backers for a gambling house
which would benefit them all. Besides, he did bring money
back for her and the boys, and she knew in her heart that if
he didn't love her or didn't consider Sam and Jack his best
friends, he would have moved on long ago.
But Theo hadn't included a baby in his long-term plans,
and Beth feared it might upset the whole apple cart. It hadn't
been in hers either, and at first she'd been horrified. Yet as
the weeks had crept by she had found herself reliving the
joy of caring for Molly, and now she wanted this baby
wholeheartedly. But the fact remained that the boys were
likely to view it with dismay.
She couldn't keep it secret for much longer. She reckoned
she was four and a half months pregnant, the baby due in
July, and the only reason no one had noticed her changing
shape was because of the layers of thick winter clothes
she wore. Even in bed she never removed her flannelette
nightdress, and as she was mostly asleep when Theo came
home, there had been no lovemaking for weeks.
'I will tell him tonight,' she resolved aloud. He didn't
usually go out before she got home, and she could leave
him to tell Sam and Jack the news the following morning
before they went to work.
It was difficult walking in such thick snow, and treacherous
too as there could be hidden obstacles beneath it, and
in the darkness it wasn't easy to see a slight mound which
might warn her. She took cautious little steps, her mind on
her own fledgling plan for the future.
For all Theo's faults, he was loving and caring, and she
was fairly certain he'd marry her to give the baby his name.
lint she also knew that she couldn't hope to turn him into

a traditional husband who went to work each day in a bank
or some other regular employment to keep his wife and
child.
Bern's idea was that they should rent a whole house in a
better area, then she could take in boarders to make a living.
Theo could carry on with his plans, and Sam and jack too.
Even if the boys had to move away from Montreal, she'd
be secure, and if she couldn't play her fiddle in public, at
least she'd be mistress of her own house and wouldn't need
to leave her baby with anyone while she worked.
As she turned into Fuller Street where the bunkhouse
was, she was so busy thinking of how she'd present this idea
to the boys that she stopped looking at the ground in front
of her. Suddenly her feet slipped from under her and she
fell backwards on to the snow, jarring her buttocks painfully.
As she rolled over and got cautiously up on to her knees,
she saw that she'd stepped on a sheet of ice. Someone must
have thrown some water out and it had frozen solid.
She expected she would have a big bruise later, but thankfully
her legs and ankles felt fine.
It wasn't until she was in the bunkhouse, stirring the stove
which had been banked up all night, filling the kettles and
lighting the gas to start cooking, that she realized she felt a
bit woozy and shaken up. But there was no time to dwell
on that as the men would be up soon.
Breakfast was always more difficult than cooking the
evening meal, for which she had all day to prepare. In the
morning she had less than an hour to cook some eighty
fried eggs, bacon and sausages in huge frying pans, slice up
six large loaves of bread and make several pots of coffee
and tea.
The bunkhouse had one large communal room where the
men ate and relaxed. Their dormitories and washroom were

out the back. The walls were rough, unpainted plaster and
the floor was bare concrete. There were long, rickety deal
tables, scarred wooden benches and a counter which separated
it from the kitchen area. A noticeboard and pigeon
holes for each of the men covered one wall; the second held
pegs for outdoor clothing, for as the stove was kept alight
day and night, wet coats and boots could dry out by morning.
The other wall had been decorated by artistic residents.
There were sketches of bears and moose, caricatures of
some of the men, and many voluptuous, semi-naked women
that made Beth blush.
The first time she had gone into one of the dormitories
to sweep the floor she had recoiled in horror at the stink of
sweat and feet, but she supposed it couldn't be otherwise
when so many men slept in such a confined, badly ventilated
space. Besides, they worked long hours and could only get
to the bath-house further down the street about once a
month. Yet mostly they kept their few possessions and spare
clothes tidy in a box or kitbag beneath the bunks. These
were nomads, moving anywhere there was work. They were
a tough breed, unfettered by wives or family, oblivious to
cold or heat and often to injury too. All they appeared to
need was a few pals, drink and food and they were content.
By the time the first group of tousled men came in
yawning and coughing, Beth had got the plates, trays of
food and bread on to the serving counter and was there
ready to dish up. She had put the coffee and tea at the end
of the counter for them to pour themselves.
Most of them only grunted a greeting, for they were only
half awake, but when the big American the men called Tex
got his turn to have his plate filled he looked at her sharply
and frowned.
'You all right, honey?' he asked. "You look awful pale today.'

'I slipped on some ice on the way here,' she said with a
weak smile. 'No bones broken, just a bit shaken up.'
'You take it easy for the rest of the day then,' he said.
'We don't want to lose a pretty little thing like you!'
By ten in the morning Beth had finished most of her
cleaning chores. She usually took a break then, had a cup of
tea and a bacon sandwich and read the newspaper before
starting on the preparations for the evening meal. But the
meal tonight was stew, and as the meat the butcher usually
sent was inclined to be tough, she liked to get it simmering
early in the day.
As she hauled the big heavy stew pans from their shelf
under the counter to the gas stove, she felt a sharp pain
shoot through her belly. She got the pans up on to the stove,
but then another pain gripped her.
She sat down on a chair, telling herself it was nothing but
cramp, or that she'd just picked up the stew pans awkwardly.
But then it happened again for the third time, and instinctively
she clutched at her belly in exactly the same way she'd
seen her mother do when she went into labour with Molly.
A feeling of dread washed over her. Could it be that she
was going to lose her baby?
Maybe she hadn't been delighted about it at first, but
she'd grown to welcome the idea, and in the last month
she'd thought of little else but holding her baby in her arms.
What did women do to make sure they didn't lose their
babies? Would lying down flat do it? Or should she ask
someone to get a doctor for her?
But who? All the men were gone for the day. The bunkhouse
was owned by Mr Sondheim, but aside from Friday
night when he always came to collect the rent from the men,
he only popped in occasionally. He had called in more often
when she first started here, but it seemed he trusted her

now and only came to pick up the food bills, and to check
that no one had left or there weren't any men staying here
without his permission. He wasn't likely to come today as
he'd called the previous day.
Beth got up from her chair, hoping that the pain would
just disappear, for Mr Sondheim wouldn't be pleased if she
failed to have the evening meal ready for the men. She got
as far as the counter where she'd put the meat ready to cut
up when another pain came. This one was even more intense
and lasted longer too. Somehow she knew then it wasn't
going to go away and she must get help.
Gingerly, she edged her way towards the door. As she
reached it another pain hit her and this time it was so bad
she cried out. As it abated she could feel a sticky wetness
between her legs, which she thought might be blood. In
fright she opened the door and looked out on to the street.
There was no one in sight, and although the closest house
was only a few yards across the street, Beth was afraid to
cross it because she might fall again in the snow. Any other
time she'd come out of the door there were always people
about, even in the snow, for most of the residents around
here lived in such cramped conditions they needed to get out.
'Someone come along, please,' she pleaded aloud as yet
another pain stabbed through her. To her horror the snow
between her two feet was stained red with blood, and she
immediately felt nauseous with fear.
She must have stood there for ten minutes, frozen to the
bone, in pain and with the pool of blood at her feet growing
larger by the minute, when she finally saw a man coming
along the road, pulling a sledge behind him.
'Help me, please,' she called out as loudly as she could.
By the time he reached her she was clinging to the doorpost
for support.

'Are you in trouble?' he asked.
She was aware he was young, no more than twenty, and
Irish, with bright blue eyes. 'Yes, I think I'm losing my baby,'
she blurted out, her fear cancelling out the embarrassment
of saying such a thing to a stranger. 'Could you go to my
home and get my husband or my brother?'
'Sure,' he said. 'But let me help you inside first. You'll
catch your death of cold out here.'
He seemed to know his way around for once inside he
went through the door to the dormitories and returned with
a pillow and a blanket. He made her lie down on the floor
and covered her up, and even took her hand as she cried
out with another pain.
She rasped out where he had to go, and he promised he
would run all the way.
The pain grew much worse as soon as he'd gone and it
didn't abate as it had before, but kept coming like waves,
each one stronger and stronger until she couldn't think
beyond it or even see or hear anything else.
Dimly, through the red fog which surrounded her, she
thought she heard Jack calling her name but she couldn't
answer him. She felt as if she was slipping into a dark tunnel
from which there was no escape.

'Mrs Cadogan! Can you hear me?'
Beth thought she was walking though a dark forest
towards the man's voice. When she tried to walk faster her
legs wouldn't let her.
'Open your eyes now, Mrs Cadogan, it's all over now.'
His voice so close made her realize it was a dream, and
that she was in bed. She opened her eyes and saw a man
with gold-rimmed spectacles looking down at her.
'You are in hospital,' he explained. 'You've given your

poor husband a terrible fright; he was afraid he was going
to lose you.'
'I lost the baby?'
The doctor nodded. 'I'm very sorry, my dear, but you are
young and healthy and you will soon be yourself again.'
'Can I see my husband?' she whispered.
'For just a few minutes, then you must rest. I'll send him
in to you.'
She thought it must be late at night as there was only one
dim light burning in the large room, and the people in the
other beds appeared to be asleep. She was puzzled as to
why she could remember nothing after the young Irishman
came to her aid. What had they given her to make the
pain go and for her to sleep for so long? Had she had an
operation?
At the sound of footsteps she turned her head to see Jack
coming towards her.
'Where's Theo?' she whispered when he reached her bed.
'I don't know,' he whispered back. 'It was me who came
to you at the bunkhouse -- Sam had already gone to work. I
said I was your husband because it would look better. Did
Theo know you were having a baby?'
Beth shook her head weakly. 'I was going to tell him
tonight.'
'But they said you were over four months gone! I had to
pretend I knew. Why didn't you tell any of us? We wouldn't
have let you work at that place if we'd known.'
'There was never a right time to tell you,' she said wearily.
Jack bent down and kissed her cheek. 'How do you feel
now?'
'A bit strange.' She sighed. 'But I'm not in pain any more.
What did they do to me, Jack?'
'The doctor will explain to you in the morning,' he said.

'But you must go to sleep now, I'll go and find Sam and
Theo and tell them. We'll come to see you tomorrow.'

It was after ten at night and as Jack walked through the
deserted snowy streets, his eyes filled with tears when he
thought of what the doctor had said.
'I had to perform an emergency operation to remove the
parts which had not come away naturally, and sadly I have
to tell you it is highly unlikely she'll ever be able to bear
another child.'
Many women Jack had known wouldn't much care if they
never had a child, and anyone who had ever seen Beth
playing her fiddle would think that being a mother would
be unimportant to her. But Jack knew different. He'd heard
the sadness in her voice when she spoke of Molly, and knew
that giving her sister up was something she'd never quite
reconciled herself to, however much she declared she had.
At Christmas, when she received a photograph of Molly,
she had looked hungrily at it for hours. He had always
thought that it would only be when she had a child of her
own that she'd recover fully.
Now she'd lost that chance.

Theo didn't come home that night, and Jack lay awake
hating the man for treating Beth so casually. Theo didn't of
course know she was in hospital, but Jack was unable to
understand how any man with a girl as lovely as Beth could
bear to stay away from her for even one night.
Sam had looked incredulous when Jack told him the news.
'Why didn't she tell me?' he kept repeating, as if he thought
that if she had done, none of this would have happened.
But even Sam, close as he was to his sister, expressed the
opinion that it was perhaps for the best.

'The best for who?'Jack had roared at him. 'For you and
Theo maybe, so you can do what you want without any
hindrance! But not for Beth. A part of her will have died
with the baby, and when she finds out she can't have any
more, what's that going to do to her?'

It was close to daybreak when Jack heard Theo come in. He
and Beth shared what she laughingly called the parlour,
which was the slightly larger of the two rooms downstairs
and the one with a fire. She had to cook on that, and she'd
made herself a little kitchen by putting a wooden crate with
a cloth over it in the alcove beside the fire, and arranging all
the crockery, pots, utensils and foodstuffs in or on it.
Her ability for home-making astounded Jack. She'd
covered the bed with a bright-coloured quilt, and made
cushions for the two wooden armchairs. Most people
around here lived in squalor, defeated by poverty and hardship,
but Beth kept the place spotlessly clean, and was always
adding something to make it more homely.
Since working at the bunkhouse, she'd acquired a small
table, and on Sundays when they were all home, they ate
their dinner at it sitting on crates. She'd stuffed cracks around
the windows with newspaper to keep out the draughts and
covered the stains on the walls with theatre posters and
pictures cut out of magazines. Sitting there beside a roaring
fire on Sundays, a tasty dinner in front of them, they could
forget the bitter cold and grimness outside for a few hours
and be a real family.
Since he met Theo for the first time, Jack's feelings towards
him had swung away from jealousy because he'd snatched
Beth away from him and indignation that he allowed her to
think he'd masterminded her rescue from the cellar. He had
eventually grown to like him once they moved to Philadelphia.

For all Theo's flashiness, smart clothes, cut-glass accent
and impeccable breeding, he was no snob. To him there
were only two kinds of people: those he liked and those he
didn't. What they had or where they came from didn't enter
into it.
Once Jack had put away his old resentments, he found
Theo to be generous, kind-hearted and an amusing companion
-- smart too, always one jump ahead of the next man.
Jack wasn't scandalized by him cheating at cards. He felt
he'd have probably done the same if he'd lost a heap of
money. But what he had fully expected was that Theo would
run off and leave him and Sam when Sheldon died.
But he hadn't. He'd taken charge, organized their escape
to Canada and paid for their tickets, and because he'd proved
himself, Jack had trusted him implicitly ever since.

Yet as he heard Theo come in, and thought of where Beth
was, Jack felt murderous. He leapt out of his bed and ran
into the adjoining room wearing only his long underwear.
Theo had lit a candle and he was just standing there
holding it, still in his top hat and fancy cloak, looking
stunned because Beth wasn't in bed.
'Where is she?' he asked.
'In hospital, you bastard,' Jack snarled. 'She's lost her
baby, and you want stringing up for not being with her, for
letting her work in that place.'
'She was having a baby?' Theo gasped, his face suddenly
pale. 'I didn't know!'
'You never gave her a chance to tell you, you're never
here,' Jack roared at him. 'You swan in and out, eating meals
she makes you, putting on the clean shirts she washes for
you, treating her like a little skivvy!'
Theo put the candle down and dropped his hat on the

bed. 'Oh God,' he exclaimed. 'She's lost our baby? Please,
Jack, sit down and tell me what happened and how she is.'
Jack could see that Theo was shocked and horrified, but
that didn't appease him. He clenched his fist and took a
swing at Theo, catching him squarely on the jaw, and Theo
staggered back from the force of it.
'I'd beat the shit out of you without any qualms,' Jack
hissed at him. 'But I don't want to smash up this room Beth
has tried to make nice. Did you ever notice that? Did you
see how rough her hands have become? She was someone
in Philly, she wore pretty dresses and she was happy too,
but you took all that away from her.'
'I suppose you had a better plan then?' Theo said with a
sarcastic edge. 'One you never voiced, eh?'
You smug bastard,'Jack yelled at him, and was just about
to hit him again when Sam came running into the room and
caught his arm.
'Fighting won't make anything better,' he said angrily,
getting between his two friends. 'God knows I'd like to
pulveri2e Theo too for neglecting Beth, but she'll be devastated
at losing her baby, and if she comes home to find
Theo gone too, she'll never recover.'
'I wouldn't leave Beth even if you two pummelled me
to a pulp,' Theo said indignantly. 'You're acting like I'm
responsible for this. How could I be? I didn't even know.
Now, will you sit down and explain what happened and tell
me how she is, for God's sake? I love her, surely you know
that?'
At that unexpected declaration of love, Jack's anger faded.
'Why did you leave her here all the time then?' he asked
brokenly. 'Couldn't you have introduced her to your new
friends? She's a real lady, she would never have embarrassed
you.'

3°3
/

Theo sighed and slumped down on to a chair, running
his fingers through his hair. 'I was trying to get something
for all of us. If I'd known I was going to be a father -' He
broke off suddenly, overcome by emotion, and covered his
face in his hands.
'For pity's sake, tell me how she is,' he said in a strangled
voice after a few moments. 'Surely I'm entitled to that
much?'

Theo stood at the ward door, looking at Beth through the
small glass panel. She was lying on her side in the bed, one
arm hiding her face, and he knew she was crying. He braced
himself to enter the room, hoping that when he took her in
his arms he'd be able to find the right words to comfort her.
His face was sore from Jack's punch a few hours earlier,
but not as sore as his heart. He couldn't claim ever to have
thought how it would be to become a father, yet he felt
unbearably sad that he'd unwittingly created a baby with
Beth and now it had gone.
Pushing the door open, he took a deep breath and walked
in. Beth moved her arm from her face and he saw her eyes
were red and swollen.
'You poor darling,' he said softly. 'I'm so sorry I wasn't
here with you yesterday.'
Her expression was so bleak he couldn't bear to see it.
'You should have told me,' he said as he leaned over her
and scooped her into his arms. 'I love you, Beth, I know I
don't always show you, but you shouldn't have kept this
from me.'
'They said I nearly died,' she sobbed against his chest. 'I
wish I had, Theo. What is there for me in the future without
ever having a child to love?'
'We don't know for certain that's true,' Theo said, and

tears ran down his cheeks too. 'We'll see another doctor,
we'll make it come right.'

'There are some things that can't be made right,' she said,
her voice muffled against his chest.

Instinct told Theo that she felt she had been punished
for having sexual relations with a man she wasn't married
to. 'I don't believe that,' he said. 'I'll take care of you, and
when you're well again, everything will look different, you'll
see. We'll get married one day and we'll go home to England
to see Molly. Even if we can't have another baby, we'll still
have each other.'

She just cried against his chest, and he felt powerless to
ease her pain. What could he say? He'd never hungered to
have a child, he doubted any man did. He could understand
Beth's grief and disappointment, but he couldn't presume
to know how it felt.

'I'm so sorry,' he whispered. 'Sorry that I haven't taken
better care of you. Sorry that I didn't tell you often enough
that I love you. And I'm so very sorry we lost our baby. But
don't give up on me, Beth. Things may look bleak now, but
they'll get better. I promise you that much.'
Chapter Twenty-four
June 1897

'Break out of it, sis, I'm sick of seeing that sad face!'
Beth blushed with embarrassment, for Sam's voice
seemed to boom around the railway carriage.
'Why don't you shout a little louder?' she retorted sarcastically.
'I'm sure that the people right at the back would
like to hear too.'
'Sorry,' he said, looking abashed. 'I didn't realize I was
shouting. But it seems like years since I heard you laugh or
even sound excited about anything. We've come clean across
Canada and seen so much; we'll be in Vancouver tonight,
so can't you just perk up?'
'Scrubbing floors, washing up and waiting on tables were
hardly things to get excited about,' she said waspishly. 'If
you can guarantee Vancouver will be better, then I might
start laughing again.'
'Maybe you'll get a chance to play your fiddle there.'
Beth forced herself to smile. 'Maybe, but excuse me if
I don't count on it.'

It was four months since she lost her baby, and physically
she had recovered from it within a week. But hearing she
would never have another child left her totally dispirited.
Sometimes she stayed in bed all day, she didn't care if the
room was dirty or untidy, and when she did venture out,
she avoided speaking to anyone.
Theo couldn't have been kinder in those first three or
four weeks. He brought her home delicacies, tonics, fresh

3°6
fruit and chocolates, he took her out on a horse-drawn
sleigh up on Mount Royal, and bought her a new dress from
one of the best shops in Sherbrooke Street. Many evenings
he stayed at home with her, and but for that she might have
lapsed into permanent melancholy.
She was glad when the boys suggested moving on. She
felt as soon as she was seeing new scenery and meeting new
people that her old spirit would return.
They left Montreal by train in late March, when it was
still very cold and the rivers still frozen, but spring was on
its way. Theo's theory was that the new railway running all
the way across Canada to Vancouver would have created
some boom towns along the route. He was right in as much
as small towns had sprung up wherever the train stopped,
but they weren't the kind to yield the kind of opportunities
Theo had hoped for.
A saloon, usually doubling as a hotel, dried goods, clothing
and hardware shops, a timber yard, stabling and a blacksmith
were about all most of these towns had to offer. The
immigrants who had bought farmland in these remote places
were sober, diligent and staid, not the kind to gamble with
hard-earned money. Beth thought the only way to make a
quick fortune in these towns would be to bring in bolts of
dress material, hats and other luxuries to sell, for most of
the women were starved of anything pretty to wear.
Yet leaving Montreal had been good for her. She had
stopped dwelling on never having another child, and found
the energy to work when the opportunity arose. She began
to care about how she looked again, and kept up practice
on her fiddle.
In most places they stopped at, the boys usually managed
to find some kind of casual work, on farms, at logging camps
and in sawmills. In one town Sam had helped a boot repairer

out and earned nearly forty dollars. But for Beth the only
work available was cleaning, laundry and occasionally some
farm work, seeding and hoeing out weeds. Sometimes she
had to stay alone in a rooming house while the boys stayed
in the bunkhouse wherever they were working, so she was
lonely too.
She had played her fiddle a few times in saloons, but
although she got wild applause, her audience's appreciation
didn't run to more than a few dimes in the hat. It was hard
not to think back to New York and Philadelphia, and how
good it had felt to be making a living doing what she loved
best of all. She feared she would never get the chance to do
so again.
Yet for all the disappointments, hardships and anxieties,
it had been, as Sam said, an incredible journey right across
this huge country, and the astounding scenery had staggered
her at every turn: snow-capped mountains, vast lakes and
pine forests, tumbling waterfalls, prairies that stretched
almost to infinity. She could hardly believe that her world
had once been confined to Church Street in Liverpool, and
that a park was her idea of wide open space.
The reason for her long face today was simply weariness.
She was tired of the nomadic life, tired too of approaching
a new town and seeing the boys get excited, only to leave in
disappointment a few days later. She felt unable to raise any
enthusiasm for Vancouver as she was sure it would be no
different to anywhere else.
Theo was convinced that this was where all his dreams
would come true. Right now he was out on the viewing
platform at the end of the carriage with Jack, and she
had no doubt they were once again planning their dream
gambling house.
She had known that Jack and Theo had had a fight after

she lost the baby, for she'd seen the bruise on Theo's cheek.
Yet whatever animosity lay behind it had vanished, for they
were the best of friends now, and Jack had more than proved
his worth on this trip. When it came to hard manual work,
he had no equal, for he was immensely strong and capable.
He covered for Theo and Sam when they lagged behind,
and his tough stance deterred any would-be troublemakers
from picking on them.
All three of them were more muscular and fit now, handsome
too, with sunburnt faces. Even if Beth couldn't share
their boyish excitement about Vancouver, she was still very
glad to be with them.

'This will do, won't it?'Jack looked nervously at Beth as he
led her into the rooms he'd found for them in Gas Town.
They had arrived in Vancouver in the early hours of the
morning, so they'd dozed in the station waiting room till it
was daylight. Jack had gone off on his own while they were
eating breakfast, and returned an hour later to tell them he'd
taken this place, just a couple of streets away from the station.
'It's fine, Jack,' Beth replied, too tired to care what it was
like. There were two rooms, stained mattresses on the beds,
a chair with only three legs, a gas stove and a sink in the
corner of the back room which overlooked the docks. But
they had stayed in much worse places.
'It was the best of the ones I saw,' Jack said anxiously.
'Maybe we'd get a better place elsewhere, but I was told Gas
Town is where all the saloons and gambling dives are, and
it looks like our kind of place. I bet they won't be against
pretty fiddlers here.'
Beth was touched he had thought of her and smiled
wearily. 'You did well to find it, Jack. But then you always
do well, whatever you do.'

Theo and Sam came up the stairs then. Theo wrinkled
his nose, and Sam gave a strained smirk. 'Why do we always
get such consistently grim rooms? You'd think once in a
while we'd stumble on something decent,' he said.
Beth felt compelled to reassure them. 'At least it's quite
a new building. I even saw an inside lavatory and a bathroom
as we came up the stairs. I can fix it up for us, we're going
to do all right here.'
'If you're happy then we all will be,' Theo said, going
over to the window and looking out. 'We've got a good
view of the ships, and if we find Gas Town isn't to our
taste, we can sail away somewhere on one of them.'
'As long as it isn't to the north,' Beth said, as she opened
up her valise to unpack. 'I've had enough of cold and snow.'

Beth woke later to hear banjo music coming from somewhere
close by. It was fast and hot, reminding her of a
negro banjo player who used to play in the streets back in
Philadelphia. It seemed the best of omens.
All four of them had lain down fully dressed on the bare
mattresses for a nap, but that must have been hours ago for
she could see by the low sun that it was early evening now.
Theo was sound asleep, curled up around her back, and
she wriggled away from him, suddenly energized and wanting
to turn the room into a home for them.
She had unrolled their bundle of bedding, hung her
dresses up in the closet, and was just dragging the table
across to the window, when Theo woke.
'That's a good sign,' he said, watching her spread a
checked tablecloth on it. 'Does that mean you feel at home?'
'I feel at home anywhere you are,' she said teasingly. 'But
get your lazy carcase off that bed so I can make it up.'
He did as she asked but then came across the room to

her and put his arms around her. 'I've put you through such
a lot,' he said regretfully.
That was something of an understatement, and if she'd
been in the mood for sniping at him she could have given
him a long list of hurts, starting with the inevitable feast-or
famine lifestyle of a gambler. There were the unexplained
absences, flirting with other women, unreliability and selfishness
too. But she wasn't in the mood for recriminations now.
'Not all of it bad,' she said, and wound her arms around
his neck to kiss him. He responded eagerly, his tongue flickering
into her mouth as he pressed himself up against her, and
to her surprise she felt a real stirring of desire for him too.
Since she'd lost the baby she had stopped wanting him
the way she used to. She had continued to go through the
motions, pretending she did, out of kindness to him, but
each time she faked rapture she felt unbearably sad and
cheated, for their lovemaking had been such a big part of
what was good between them.
He sat down on a chair and pulled her on to his knees so
she sat astride him, then unfastened the bodice of her dress
and released her breasts to caress and kiss them. It felt good,
just the way it used to, and as his hand crept up under her
skirt and petticoats to fondle her, she knew this time there
would be no faking.
The indecency of knowing that Sam and Jack were just
the other side of the door while Theo was arousing her to
fever pitch with his fingers was so erotic that she climaxed
even before he unbuttoned his trousers and slid into her.
The banjo player out on the street seemed to be in time
with them. She threw back her head, pressing her breasts
into Theo's face with abandon, loving the sensual delight of him inside her.
He came with a roar of delight, digging his fingers into

3"
her bottom. 'That was like winning a thousand dollars on
the turn of a card,' he whispered against her shoulder. 'I
love you so much, Beth.'

It was not until after ten that the four of them went out to
get something to eat. They had been forced to take cold
baths, for the water only got hot when the furnace in the
basement was lit. But they were all reinvigorated, and Beth
felt so radiant from the lovemaking earlier that she laughed
at everything the boys said.
She had put on her red satin dress, even though it was
creased from being packed away in her valise for so long.
'I'm taking my fiddle with me,' she announced as they left
their rooms. 'I'm feeling lucky tonight.'

After a dinner of fried chicken and potatoes in a restaurant
close by they walked down the main street of Gas Town.
As they understood it, Vancouver originated here. In 1867
it had been just a cluster of wooden shacks and warehouses
by the wharves until John Deighton, known as Gassy Jack,
arrived and opened the first saloon. The city dignitaries
wanted to call the area Granville, but it had remained Gas
Town to its residents.
After the sedate, quiet littie towns they'd visited during
the past months it was a delight to find Gas Town was
buzzing with activity, noise and less pious pleasures.
People were spilling out of saloons on to the pavements
with their drinks and there were stalls selling all kinds of
food from baked potatoes and hot dogs to bowls of noodles.
Music wafted out from a dozen different sources, and
drunken sailors lurched along in groups, singing as they
went.
There were touts trying to get the unwary into card games

down back alleys, and whores lounging suggestively in doorways.
Beggars, buskers, street entertainers and pedlars all
added to the hurly-burly.
Jack stopped them at a very busy saloon on a street corner
in Water Street. 'Let's make a nuisance of ourselves in here,'
he said with a grin. 'There's no music, so maybe we can
persuade them they need some!'
Waiting by the door with Theo while Jack and Sam went
to the bar to get drinks, Beth reflected on how the dynamics
of their group had changed since they left Philadelphia.
Theo had been their undisputed leader then, by force of
personality and breeding and because he was the one who
had the money. Sam was his right-hand man, and Jack's role
was almost that of servant.
Once in Montreal, with Theo prone to disappearing, Jack
and Sam had begun to make decisions for themselves. Yet
even then Theo only had to click his fingers and they fell in
with his plans.
Once out of Montreal, everything changed; Theo and
Sam were both too refined and citified to be in harmony
with the tough, strong farmers, lumberjacks and construction
men they met up with. But these men took to Jack,
recognizing him as one of their own.
Suddenly it was Jack making the decisions, and he carried
Sam and Theo with him. On some of the jobs they did, they
wouldn't have lasted a day without Jack helping them and
covering up their inadequacies. Sam soon began to toughen
up, and took a pride in learning new skills and keeping up
with Jack and the other men. But Theo was like a fish out
of water; he couldn't adjust. He got by solely on his charm,
and Beth often overheard men referring to him disparagingly
as 'the English gent'.
She wondered whether now they were here, in the kind

of environment Theo was at home in, he'd push his way
back to being group leader again.
Jack and Sam returned with the drinks and they were
grinning broadly.
'We asked the landlord if you could play,' Sam said. 'He
said, "If you dare." So do you dare, sis?'
Beth took her glass of rum, glanced around at the crowded
bar, and knocked her drink back in one. 'Try stopping me,'
she said with a wide smile. Theo handed her the fiddle case,
and she opened it and took out the instrument.
'How much of the money have we got to give the landlord?'
she asked.
'He didn't say,' Jack said. 'I guess he didn't really believe
there would be any. I'll go round with the hat, we'd better
offer him some of it at the end, and then maybe he'll give
you a permanent spot.'

Theo watched Beth as she slithered through the crowd to
the back of the saloon, her fiddle held under one arm, the
bow in her other hand. She looked like a slender flame in
her red dress, and he could see by her straight back and the
way she held her shoulders that she was determined to
succeed tonight.
She disappeared from view and Theo felt a sudden pang
of anxiety, but all at once he saw her rise up behind the
burly men blocking his view, and he realized she was now
standing on a table.
Tucking her fiddle under her chin, she drew the bow
across the strings and was off into 'Kitty O'Neill'.
For a few long moments there was no reaction from the
drinkers; almost every one of them had their backs turned
to her. Theo held his breath, but slowly men began to turn

3T4
towards her, and smiles of appreciation began to creep on
to their faces.
Theo saw how in tune Beth was with her audience. She
smiled and tossed her hair, picking up the tempo as she got their complete attention, and once she'd got it she certainly
knew how to hold it.
They were mainly stevedores and sailors, some already
very drunk, but they began to tap their feet, their eyes never
leaving her, and she took them to the far shores of their
imagination with her music.
'She's better than ever,' Jack gasped. 'Look at her face!'
Theo could see nothing else. Not the men jigging on the
spot in front of her, not the couple of whores eyeing him
up from the corner, or even the glass of whisky in his hand.
He'd seen that same blissful expression on Beth's face just
hours earlier when they made love. He felt he ought to feel
jealous that her music meant as much, but he didn't. He just
felt bigger and more powerful than any other man in the
saloon because she was his girl.
By the time she'd played for twenty minutes, people
passing were elbowing their way in through the door until
the saloon was packed to capacity.
'They'll never be able to serve them all,'Jack said, nudging
Sam. "We'll get up there and see if they need a hand.'
Once again Theo saw Beth's impeccable timing, for as
the boys reached the bar and offered their services, she
finished her number.
'I've got to take a break now,' she called out. 'Get yourselves
drinks and I'll be back soon.'

That first night there was over thirty dollars in the hat, and
()ris Beeking, the landlord of the Globe, was only too

delighted to agree that Beth should play four nights a week.
Furthermore, he took Sam and Jack on as bartenders too.
Vancouver suited them in every way. People were not as
staid as they'd been everywhere else in Canada, for it was in
many ways still a frontier town. It was good to be able to
walk along the shore in warm sunshine, to chat to fishermen
and sailors and feel they belonged here. Sam and Jack found
a couple of sassy saloon girls they liked. Theo got into some
poker games, and on Sunday evenings when they were all at
home together, they would plan their saloon, a place with
gambling, music and dancing girls.
After the uncertainty and discomfort they'd experienced
on their travels, all four of them were happy to be settled
again. There was no more talk,of moving on, only of finding
somewhere a little bigger to live.
On 16 July, Beth went to the post office to post a letter
to Molly and the Langworthys. She'd been posting letters
home in almost every town they'd stopped at, and she was
anxious now for them to receive the address they could
write back to.
Outside the post office there was a large group of men,
and Beth's first thought was that they were about to start
fighting, for they were pacing up and down, shouting and
waving their arms. But as she got closer she saw it wasn't
anger infecting them but excitement. Two of the men were
stevedores she knew from the Globe, and she guessed that
the others had just come in on a ship.
'What's all the excitement?' she asked, when one of the
men she knew smiled and waved at her.
'Gold,' he replied, his eyes glittering. 'They've found gold
up in Alaska. Tons of it. We're planning to go there on the
next ship.'
Beth laughed. It sounded like a tall story to her. As far as

she knew, Alaska was under thick snow all year round and
the only people likely to go there were fur trappers.
She posted her letter, bought some bread, meat and vegetables,
then made her way home. But as she passed a
news-stand, she saw the headline 'Ton of Gold' on the front
of the newspaper and a picture of a ship berthing in San
Francisco on which this ton of gold was said to be.
Snatching up the paper, she read how in August of the
previous year a man called George Carmack, with his two
brothers-in-law, Tagish Charlie and Skookum Jim, had
found gold in Rabbit Creek, one of the six tributaries of the
river Klondike in the Yukon Valley. Carmack found the
gold lying between flaky slabs of rock, 'like cheese in a
sandwich'.
Since then, it transpired, prospectors in the area had
swarmed there to stake claims, and fortunes were made
overnight, but word hadn't reached the outside world about
it until now, for once winter closed in up in the Yukon, no
one could get out.
Beth was only mildly interested, but as she continued to
read as she walked along the street, she was suddenly hearing
the words 'Klondike Gold' on all sides of her.
The boys had only just got up when she returned, but as
she related what she'd heard and seen on the street and gave
them the newspaper to read, their eyes lit up.

'Where is the Klondike exactly?' Jack asked. 'Is it in Alaska?'
'They called it the Yukon in the paper, and I think that's
part of Canada,' Theo said, and began rummaging through his
valise to find his map of North America. He pushed aside the
cups and plates on the table and spread it out. 'This is where it
is,' he said, pointing to an area further north from Vancouver,
tucked behind Alaska. 'We could go there.'

37
'Oh no,' Beth said flatly. 'I told you when we got here
that if we had to move it would be to the south where it's
warm. I am not going off on some wild goose chase to a
place which is frozen solid all year.'
'But we could become millionaires,' Sam said, his voice
cracking with excitement.
'We could die of cold and starvation, more likely,' she
argued. 'Don't you remember learning about the Gold Rush
of '49 in school? Only a few people found some. Remember
what Pearl told me too? She was there, but she made her
money cooking for the prospectors.'
'That's exactly why we should go,' Theo said, his eyes
shining. 'The perfect place to start a gambling saloon!'
'Talk some sense into them,' Beth urged Jack. 'This is
madness, we like it here, we're doing fine. It's stupid to
throw it all away with all the other idiots who'll run off there
half cocked.'
'I think we all ought to find out a great deal more about
this first,' Jack replied, backing neither her nor Theo and
Sam. 'Quietly, calmly and using our heads.'

It was impossible to be quiet and calm that day, for news of
the gold was like a virulent disease sweeping through the town
and infecting everyone. By the afternoon people were queuing
for tickets on the next steamship to Skagway in Alaska, the
town they said was the nearest point to the goldfields.
Shopkeepers were galvanized into action, putting signs
outside their shops, 'Get your outfit here'. Sledges which
had been stored away for the summer were suddenly out on
display. Tents, fur-lined coats and boots, mackinaws and
galoshes were piled up invitingly. The dried goods store had
a blackboard outside listing the items the owner had in stock
which could be bought in bulk.

Theo and Sam were incandescent with excitement and
even Beth found her heart beating a little faster, but Jack
was strangely quiet. He took himself off to see Foggy, an
old man who was in the saloon most nights and who he
knew had been a fur trapper in Alaska in his younger days.
When he returned a couple of hours later to have a wash
and a shave before going to work, Theo and Sam asked
what he'd found out, and he said he would tell them in the
morning.
Gold was the only subject under discussion in the saloon
that night. Old-timers who had prospected in California in
'49 found themselves the centre of attention. Men who knew
about sledge dogs got free drinks, and any man who had
ever sailed up the Inner Passage to Alaska could hold court.

'I've studied the map, and talked to old Foggy,' Jack said
the following morning. 'I've made a rough list of what he
thinks we would need.'
Theo took the long list and roared with laughter. We
won't need all that! A tent, blankets, warm clothes and a bit
of food will be enough. Ice picks, saws, nails! Why would
we need those?'
'The Klondike is some seven or eight hundred miles from
Skagway,'Jack said quietly. 'First we have to scale mountains,
then we'll have to build a boat to take us the rest of the way.
We'll be going through wilderness, there won't be anywhere
we can buy stuff.'
'I can hunt,' Theo said, but his voice had lost its confidence.
'It's
going to be tough.'Jack looked at Sam, then at Beth
and back at Theo. 'Really tough. Like nothing we've ever
experienced before. We're city folk, and if we aren't prepared,
we could die on the way of cold or even starvation.'

'People on the way will help us, won't they?' Sam asked,
a tremor in his voice.

'We can't count on anything or anyone,' Jack said sternly.
'You saw the madness last night. In a week's time when
word has spread further, it will be even crazier, people
flocking up there from everywhere. We need to book a
passage on a ship to Skagway quickly -- that is, if you want
to go.'

'Do you want to go, Jack?' Beth asked. She had a queasy
feeling in the pit of her stomach and whether it was fear or
excitement she couldn't tell.

'Yes, I do, more than anything,' he said, grinning at her. 'It's
the chance of a lifetime and I don't want it to pass me by.'
Chapter Twenty-five

Jack was right. Within a week Gas Town was caught in the
grip of complete madness. The Klondike Gold Stampede
was on.
Newspapers all over the world had spread the news of
the gold, and every train coming into Vancouver brought
hundreds more people who were desperate to get to the
Yukon. They swarmed into Gas Town, bringing chaos
with them as they pushed and shoved to buy equipment,
provisions and tickets on any craft that would take them
to Skagway. Yet Vancouver was reported to be far less
frantic than Seattle, and there were also steamers setting
off from Victoria, Pordand and San Francisco laden with
passengers.
Beth and the boys were staggered by the speed with which
entrepreneurial shopkeepers in Vancouver got equipment
and food supplies stacked up for all these gold stampeders.
Huge banners across the shops in Cordova Street proclaimed
them to be 'The Klondike Outfitter'. Sledge dogs
were being advertised at exorbitant sums, booklets which
listed everything needed for the trip were being printed
and sold before the ink was dry. Gold fever was highly
infectious, it seemed: bankers were walking out of their
secure jobs; street car operators deserted their trams;
policemen, salesmen and reporters abandoned their jobs;
some farmers even walked away from crops before they
were harvested.
There was no other subject for discussion. It was as if

people had stopped being sick, having babies, getting married
or even dying. Old or young, rich or poor, whatever
nationality, everyone wanted to join the stampede.
The rich could reach the Yukon in relative comfort by
steamer to St Michael on the Bering Sea, then down the
river Yukon to the goldfields, but it was many more miles
than the overland route from Skagway. Edmonton was advertised
as the All Canadian route for the patriotic, but Jack, who
had pored over maps, denounced that as unfeasible as it
meant crossing two mountain ranges.
It was Jack who got their steamer tickets, and almost
immediately they could have resold them for four or five
times the original cost. Word got out that the Canadian
Mounted Police would not allow anyone across the border
from Alaska to Canada without a ton of provisions. This
was because they feared a famine.
Jack and Sam rushed around getting their supplies together:
beef blocks, rice, sugar, coffee and evaporated eggs.
A tent, mackinaw coats, wide-brimmed hats, high boots,
gloves, glasses to stop snow blindness - the list was endless,
and they spent all the money they had so carefully hoarded
over the past months. But smooth-talking Theo found a
way to keep the funds coming, moving among the new
arrivals in town with his three-card monte games and relieving
them of some of their savings.
As the days passed in feverish buying and packing their
supplies in waterproof oilcloth sacks, Beth played her fiddle
nightly to rapturous applause, ending with a hat stuffed with
money. Sam and Jack poured enough drinks to float several
dozen steamers, and Theo played poker and won.
Finally, on 15 August, they boarded the Albany, a decrepit
steamer which by anyone's standards was barely seaworthy.
Jack had booked them a cabin, but when they boarded they

322

I
were told most of the cabins had been ripped out to make
room for more freight and passengers.
They could do nothing but accept this as it was clear they
would be thrown off if they complained, so they found a
small space on the deck and hunkered down, surrounded
by their supplies.
As the steamer left Vancouver along with a huge flotilla
of other vessels, all the passengers were delirious with excitement.
Even if there had been room enough for people to
stretch out, it was doubtful anyone could have slept.
It was only as the boat sailed into the Inside Passage of
Alaska, with its breathtakingly beautiful scenery of virgin
forests, snow-capped mountains and misty fiords on both
sides of the narrow channel that they began to realize what
lay in store for them.
They might be looking at sheer beauty beyond the ship's
rail, but it was marred by the stench of coal, horse manure,
vomit and sweat all around them. Pack dogs howled constantly,
horses kicked and neighed, and the ship was so
crowded they didn't dare vacate their tiny space on deck for
fear of losing it. Huddling together under a tarpaulin against
the chill wind or heavy rain, they realized the discomfort
they felt now could only become greater before they reached
the goldfields.
Most of their fellow passengers had not gone to the
trouble Jack had, to find out exactly where the Klondike
was, and they believed the goldfields were just a hike from
Skagway. Few of them knew mountains had to be scaled,
and a boat was needed to take them the last 500 miles.
Some people had been coerced into buying ridiculous items
like bicycles on skis, or clockwork gold-panning gadgets that
could never work. Others had brought enough timber to build
their own cabin, a piano or a cast-iron cooking stove, but given

no thought to how they would get these things up a mountain.
Yet despite the terrible conditions on the boat -- waiting
seven hours for a meal so dreadful it was all but inedible,
the lack of washing facilities, and lavatories that made Beth
retch - she and the boys remained in good spirits for there
was a party-like atmosphere on the ship, everyone as excited
as children going to a fair.
It was entertaining to observe the huge variety of people.
Sharply dressed gentlemen were forced to share space with
rough sailors and lumberjacks; there were garishly dressed
women with painted faces, old-timers from previous stampedes,
and clerics who appeared to be going in a missionary
capacity. The vast majority were Americans and Canadians,
but there were Germans, Swedes, Hungarians, Mexicans and
even Japanese too. What unified them all was the dream of
returning home rich. When they spoke of the gold their eyes
would blaze, and they refused to allow their excitement to
be diluted by mere discomfort.

'We should reach Skagway tomorrow,' Jack said as he
wriggled back under the tarpaulin after a two-hour absence.
It was the ninth day of the voyage and they were in the
stunningly beautiful Lynn Canal which ended with the
beaches of Skagway and Dyea. Sheer mountain slopes
topped with a dusting of snow rose up from the clear
turquoise water, dwarfing the raggle-taggle convoy of ships
sailing up through the narrow corridor. 'I've been talking to
one of the crew that's been there before. He said there's
only a tiny wharf, so we'll have to wade ashore with our
stuff. Good job we're already in our oldest clothes!'
'They could do with a wash,' Beth giggled, for they'd all
had the same things on since they embarked. 'But won't the
dried food get damaged in the sea water?'

3M
'I'm more worried that our things'll be stolen.' Jack
frowned. 'You can bet there'll be plenty of thieves on the
lookout. I'll get you ashore first, Beth. Theo or Sam can stay
here and guard our stuff, then we'll ferry it bit by bit out to
you on the beach.'
'Surely we can pay a sailor to row us in with it all?' Theo
asked.
Beth exchanged an amused grin with Jack. Theo thought
he could pay someone to do anything he found disagreeable.
'Most of them are jumping ship too,' Jack said. 'I think
we can safely say it will be every man for himself from
now on.'

Once again Jack's information was correct, for when they
heard the sound of anchor chains creaking, and the splash
as the anchor hit the water, dry land was still a mile away.
We surely aren't expected to swim ashore!' one alarmed,
overweight matron exclaimed.
There were a few scows from other ships ferrying people
and equipment to land, but it would take weeks for everyone
to disembark that way. The crew were already shouting out
that this was a tidal flat, and if people didn't look sharp and
make their way to the beach, they'd lose their goods and
maybe drown too.
Unceremoniously the terrified horses and other animals
were pushed into the sea to swim ashore, and at that people
began to follow, jumping into the water.
Jack put Beth's coat, boots and shawl into an oilskin bag,
and led her down the ship's ladder. The water was so icy it
took her breath away for a moment, but Jack put his arms
around her chest, urging her to hold the bag up to keep it
dry, and swam on his back with her the few yards until she
could touch bottom and wade ashore.

'This is not a good start,' she said between chattering
teeth.
'The sun's warm, you'll soon dry out,'Jack said cheerfully.
'You make your way to the beach and keep a place for our
stuff. I'm going back to the ship.'
Once Beth reached dry land, she surveyed the scene
before her with trepidation. Skagway was just a huddle of
shacks and tents on marshland which was already a slick of
black mud. All around were mountains, some still snowcapped,
but even more daunting was the desperate scene
behind her in the sea.
At least thirty boats lay at anchor, all trying to discharge
their passengers and freight at once. The sea was studded
with horses, goats, dogs, mules and oxen swimming to the
shore, and their owners racing to keep up with them.
The noise was deafening. Men who owned the dozens
of scows and primitive rafts were touting for business by
shouting at the tops of their voices. People on the boats
yelled back even more stridently. If goods dropped from
ships missed their mark and fell into the sea, the owners
cursed and swore. Animals expressed their fear by whinnying
or barking. There were screams for help from those
floundering in the icy water. Some bags of goods had split
wide open, and Beth saw a sack of flour whiten the sea
around it.
Someone shouted that the tide was turning and everyone should hurry. Fear for the boys made her wet clothes seem
suddenly unimportant. Sam couldn't swim, maybe Theo
couldn't either, and the Albany was too far away to spot
them on the deck.
Slipping off her petticoats, she secured them with pebbles
to dry in the wind, then put her boots back on. She thought
she would leave her coat until her dress was dry.

Her anxiety continued to rise as the tide crept further in
and she saw more people floundering in the sea and yet
more sacks of goods splitting, their contents running out
into the water. Her dress was nearly dry now, so she must
have been waiting for nearly an hour. But she could see no
sign of the boys anywhere.
Just as she was on the verge of panic she suddenly spotted
Jack standing up in shallow water. He was hauling in what
looked like a string of big black sausages.
Not for the first time since they left Montreal she was
staggered by his ingenuity, for he'd tied all their oilskin sacks
on to a rope. When she looked again she saw Sam clinging
on to one of the sacks, and Theo was bringing up the rear.

Wish we'd never come, Beth?'Jack asked later that evening.
'No,' she lied. 'But it's all a bit scary, nothing like we
imagined.'
It was eight in the evening. Swarms of men who were
little more than thugs out to rob the naive had descended
on them, trying to get them to pay for a space to erect their
tent, for wood for a fire, and countiess other things.
The boys had stood their ground and refused to pay
anything, and eventually they erected their tent among hundreds
of others some half a mile from the shacks of Skagway.
They had placed their sacks all around the tent walls, to add
weight and some insulation when the autumn winds got up,
and Jack had got a good fire going to dry off their clothes
and cook some food.
Beth was leaning against one sack now, wrapped in a
blanket, trying very hard not to give in to total despondency.
Sam had fallen asleep, and Theo had gone off to check
out what the town had to offer. As they had been told
Skagway was an entirely lawless place, overtaken by thugs,

confidence tricksters, gamblers and prostitutes, Beth guessed
he would be gone half the night.
It was bad enough to find they had landed in a place full
of thugs and thieves, but it was far more disappointing to
discover they'd have to stay here until February.
There were two trails over the mountains. White Pass,
which started here in Skagway, was supposed to be the easier
as pack animals could be taken on it, but it was longer than
the Chilkoot Trail, which began at Dyea some twenty-odd
miles away.
People were going off on both trails right now, but Jack
had spoken to an Indian who worked as a packer taking
people's goods up over the trail, and he'd advised him it
would be folly to join them. The Indian explained the river
Yukon would freeze over next month, long before they
could reach it, and without a team of dogs to pull a sledge
along it, they'd be trapped for the entire winter in the
mountains and might die there.
Jack was very disappointed, but Theo had been delighted
at the prospect of staying here till February. He saw Skagway
as the boom town he'd been looking for, ripe for exploitation.
Without a trace of shame he'd pointed out that
everyone on the ship was a gambler in as much as they'd
abandoned their homes and jobs to come here, and therefore
he saw them as ripe for fleecing.
Sam didn't seem to mind whether they went or stayed,
and it had been left to Beth to make the final decision. While
she thought Skagway was hell come to earth, the prospect
of freezing to death in the mountains was even more daunting,
so she'd opted for staying put.

'It won't be so bad here, I'll build us a cabin,' Jack said
soothingly. 'There's plenty of wood for it. Maybe when I've

done one for us I can make a few dollars building them for
others too.'
'Then I'll get out my fiddle tomorrow,' Beth said. It had
been a huge relief to find it unharmed by the salt water.
Their flour was damp, so was the sugar, but luckily there
were no further casualties. 'It's going to cost us a fortune to
stay here. Did you see the price of a meal?'
People had already opened up tents as saloons and restaurants.
She had seen a menu stuck up on one of them
offering bacon and beans at one dollar. Back in Vancouver
that would have only been a few cents.

Jack nodded. 'Theo's going to get a shock at the price of
whisky too. But you should make some money with that
heap of ribbons you brought with you. Some of the girls
in the saloons look like they need something to brighten
themselves up.'
'You've been in to see them then?'
'Oh yes, and a sorry-looking sight they are too.' Jack
chuckled. 'One is known as Dirty-neck Mary, another Pig
faced Sal! A man would need to be desperate to go with
either of them.'
'Then maybe Theo will be safe here.' Beth smiled.
'I think it might be you who gets lured away.'Jack arched
his eyebrows. 'With less than thirty women to a couple of
thousand men and more arriving daily, you are a great pri2e.'

'Playing here tonight. The World Famous English Gypsy
Queen!'
Beth giggled when she saw the board which the Clancy
Brothers had erected. To her it was as huge an exaggeration
as the Clancys claiming that their large tent behind the board
was a saloon.
On her second day in town Beth had been told that the

brothers Frank and John Clancy were the top men in Skagway
and ran everything from their saloon, so she went
straight to them.
Knowing she was unique in being the only female fiddler
in town and that they were charging exorbitant prices for
drinks, she dared to ask for twenty-five dollars a night, plus
whatever went into the hat. She expected them to agree only
to what went into the hat, but to her astonishment they
agreed to her nighdy fee too.
Her first night was an outstanding success, with over fifty
dollars going into the hat, of which she handed ten to the
barman to keep him sweet. As Theo hadn't turned up to
walk her back to their tent, when the Clancy brothers, two
dark-haired, thick-set men with fierce-looking moustaches,
asked her to stay and have a drink with them at the end of
the evening, she accepted.
Frank Clancy introduced her to a tall, smartly dressed
man with a thick dark beard and black stetson hat. 'This is
Mr Jefferson Smith, but you'll find he's more commonly
known as "Soapy",' he said.
'I'm also known as Beth Bolton,' she responded, unable
to resist fluttering her eyelashes at him because he was a
very handsome man with deep-set dark grey eyes. 'But why
Soapy? Is that because you never wash, or do so to excess?'
'Which would you prefer, mam?' he asked, taking her
hand and kissing it.
Beth giggled because he had a Deep South accent which
was as attractive as he was.
'Somewhere around the middle,' she said. 'But Skagway
has so few facilities I suspect I will have to get used to
people who are strangers to soap.'
She was despairing of being able to tolerate Skagway until
February. The sea of mud, the constant noise of barking

dogs and fights, the thieves and con men out to fleece
anyone they could, and the lack of even the most basic of
comforts made it an inhospitable place to be.
'Ah, but I have plans,' Smith said with a little smile at her
joke. 'For proper streets, a hotel, shops, lighting, a bathhouse
and even a church.'
'Have you now?' she said. 'So are you to be mayor of
Skagway?'
'Something like that,' he said, and his self-assurance confirmed
to her that he did intend to control the town.
They chatted for some time, mainly about her recent
arrival. Smith himself had only been there for a week and
he was in partnership with the Clancy brothers.
'Is Earl Cadogan your husband?' he asked.
The title threw Beth off balance. She had pretended to be
married to Theo ever since she arrived in Montreal with
him, but now she'd found he'd given himself a title, she
didn't know whether that would make her Lady Cadogan,
or a Countess. Unable to lie on such a grand scale, she
replied that he was just a good friend and that she was with
her brother and another old friend, Jack Child.
'The Londoner?' Smith asked. 'I met him this afternoon;
he seems a real capable man. You will have plenty of protection
then?'
'Do you think I need it, sir?' she asked teasingly.
'All ladies need protection, but someone as pretty and
charming in this godforsaken town will need it by day and
night.'
Sam and Jack arrived then and whisked her off back to
the tent. They had been with Captain Moore who owned
the sawmill here, and had arranged to get some timber from
him to build a cabin.
'Did you know Theo has told people he's an earl?' Beth

33i
asked them as they picked their way through the thick mud
back to their tent.
'He called himself that back in Montreal too,' Sam admitted.
'It's nothing, sis, it just greases a few wheels. Americans
are impressed by it.'
'Well, he's just lost himself a wife,' she said tartly. 'But
then, I don't suppose he'll care much about that.'

There were times in the weeks that followed when Beth was
tempted to catch the next boat back to Vancouver, even if
she had to go alone. She woke in the mornings stiff with
cold, and the prospect of yet another day tramping through
mud, cooking over an open fire and never having any privacy
or peace, seemed too much to bear.
Every day new ships arrived, disgorging hundreds more
people, horses, dogs and other animals. The rows of tents
spread further and further, more and more trees were
chopped down, and still more mud and filth were created.
Ridiculously high prices for every basic commodity made
Beth fear that all the money she earned at Clancy's would
be wiped out before they even left on the trail to the
goldfields. Rats, thieves and bears spoiled or snatched provisions;
disease was rife because of the unsanitary conditions,
and hardly a night passed without outbreaks of gunfire and
brawling.
Beth did feel more secure once Jack and Sam had completed
the cabin, for although only small, it was weatherproof
and had a wood floor and a lock on the door. Jack
staggered in one day with a cast-iron stove some foolish
person had intended to take up over the trail, and Sam
found Beth a hip bath too.
Playing nightly at Clancy's did lift her spirits, and as she
saw the town improving almost overnight, with streets laid

33
out and many new permanent buildings, she had hopes that
by Christmas it would be more civilized. Clancy's was built
of wood now, and there was a hotel, several more fancy
saloons, most of them with brothels upstairs, real shops and
a raised sidewalk so people could walk without getting stuck
in mud. Even a photographer had arrived and opened up a
studio.
There was much to be optimistic about in the town, but
Beth was very unhappy at how Theo was behaving. He had
found the boom town of his dreams, and suddenly nothing
else mattered to him but making money.
Skagway had attracted hundreds of men like him. Soapy
Smith and the Clancy brothers were just the same; they knew they didn't need to go to the Klondike to make their
fortunes. They could do that right here. Soapy had his own
saloon now, known as Jeff Smith's Parlour, complete with
potted palms and a mahogany bar shipped up from Portland.
Both he and the Clancy brothers had a back door from their
saloons which led to a row of cribs where their girls worked.
They had had a ringer in every pie in town, sending in their
thugs to terrorize if they weren't paid protection money.

But these men treated Beth like a lady. No one in Skagway
dared steal from her or insult her for she had their protection.
Theo, however, used her as if she were his housekeeper
and private whore.
Beth couldn't help but like Soapy, even though she knew
most of the swindlers and bully boys in town were in his
employ. He flirted with her, made her laugh, and cheered
her up when she was feeling glum. He had got his nickname
because he'd once run a racket in which he sold tablets of
soap, many of which he claimed had a ten-dollar bill tucked
in the wrapper. He would get a crowd around his stall and
sell a marked tablet to a stooge amongst it, who would


1
3 3 3
immediately shout out that he'd found a note. Everyone
clamoured to buy soap then, but there were no more ten
dollar bills.
Soapy ran a telegraph racket here. There were no telegraph
lines to Alaska, but he had opened a little telegraph booth
down on the shore, and had a cable running into the sea to
make it look real. He would take several dollars from people
sending a message home, and even fake replies from their
wife or mother, begging them to send money home for a
child or other family member who was sick.

Beth thought this was pretty shabby, just as the soap con
was, but Soapy made up for his badness by making sure the
stray dogs in the town were fed, and he gave handouts to
those who were penniless, the sick and the widows.
Theo didn't seem to have a good side any more. He
pretended to be an earl and charmed people into trusting
him implicitly, taking from anyone who sat down at a card
game with him. She knew he cheated, but he was clever
enough to make sure he only did this to real greenhorns.
One morning Beth had seen a man crying as he tried to sell
off his kit to pay for his passage home. Theo had taken
every dime he had the night before.
But it wasn't just his gambling and tricking others that
upset her, it was the way he seemed to have forgotten they
were supposed to be a team of four. Sam and Jack had
worked hard from the day they arrived here, at the sawmill
and building a cabin for them all. Now they were building
cabins for other people. Beth pulled her weight too by
playing at night, cooking them all meals and doing the
laundry.
But Theo did nothing for the common good. He lay in
bed most of the day, then demanded a clean shirt so he
could swan off in style to whatever dive he hoped to find a

554
new sucker in that evening. He rarely came into Clancy's to
listen to Beth play and he left it to Sam or Jack to escort
her home. The ribbons she'd brought with her had disappeared,
and then she saw Dirty-neck Mary with the green
ones in her hair.

But worst of all in her mind was that she was sure he was
supplying girls to the brothels. The first time she saw him
carrying the baggage of a couple of young women who
had just got off a steamer, she thought he was just being
gentlemanly. But later the same night she saw the girls in
the newly built Red Onion Saloon, and it was clear from
their painted faces that they had joined the prostitutes who
worked upstairs there.

Every day a ship brought in a couple of do2en young
women among its passengers, and it was possible some of
them had been whores back in the towns they came from.
But not all -- some were country girls who just wanted a bit
of adventure. Theo met each boat, and it was always the
prettiest young women he made a beeline for to offer help
and a place to live.

It seemed he didn't love Beth any more, and he'd forgotten
all the plans the four of them had made back in
Vancouver.
Chapter Twenty-six

'You really do have a gypsy in your soul,' Jefferson murmured
as he took Beth's hand and raised it to his lips. 'I
could listen to you playing for ever and never tire of it.'
'I would tire of it,' she said with a smile, and picked up
the glass of French champagne he'd just poured for her.
It was the end of January and thick snow lay all around
outside, but they were in Jeff Smith's Parlour, his bar and
gambling den for those in his immediate circle. The stove
was blazing, Beth was a little drunk, and it felt good to have
a handsome man trying to seduce her.
Jefferson had been trying to woo her since December.
He'd given her a rocking chair for her cabin, bought her
candy and was always inviting her for a drink or a meal. But
this was the first time she'd been entirely alone with him;
usually, when he brought her to the saloon, most of his
cronies were here too.
They had been present earlier, but they had dispersed a
while ago now, and even Nate Pollack, the bartender, had
left after putting more logs on the stove.
'Are you still planning to head for the goldfields next
month?' Jefferson asked, taking a strand of her hair and
winding it round his finger.
'Sam and Jack can't wait to go,' she replied. 'So I guess
I'll go with them.'
'It's no trip for a lady,' he said, shaking his head.
'I'm as strong as most men,' she said with a smile. 'Besides,

Skagway will be a ghost town when everyone's left. What
would there be for me to do?'
'As soon as the weather breaks there will be even more
ships. People are making their way here from all over the
world,' he said with that sparkle in his grey eyes she'd come
to like so much. 'You'll make a bigger fortune here than you
ever will in Dawson City. You could die on that journey;
even the Indians say how difficult it is.'
We planned to go there, so we will.' She shrugged.
'And what about the Earl?'
Beth looked down at her lap. However cross she was
with Theo, she still loved him, and the prospect of parting
company with him was unbearable. But he had been a louse
to her for months now, and she knew that if she stayed on
here when Sam and Jack had gone, she couldn't count on
Theo to change his ways and she'd be very alone.
'He won't be coming with us,' she said, and tried to smile
as if it didn't hurt.
'He's a fool then, for he'll get himself killed without Jack
to get him out of trouble,' Jefferson said.
'Surely not!' Beth exclaimed.
'He is too cocky by half. There are many who'd like
nothing better than to see him dead.'
'Not you?' she asked anxiously.
Jefferson looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. 'No,
I like the man,' he said eventually. 'But then he's smart
enough not to tread on my toes. I've heard the whispers,
though, and I can see the signs.'
'Can't you speak to him and warn him?'

'He wouldn't listen to me. Besides, why should you care
what becomes of him? You must know he's with Dolly at
the Red Onion most nights?'

Beth felt as if she'd been stabbed through the heart, for
until that moment it was only something she'd suspected,
not known for certain.
Dolly was a voluptuous blonde who sang and danced at
the Red Onion. She was a whore too, and rumour had it
she charged fifty dollars a time. Every man in Skagway, it
seemed, wanted to have his way with her.
'You didn't know, did you?' Jefferson said. He put his
arms around her and drew her to his chest. 'I'm sorry if I've
hurt you, I didn't intend to.'
Beth bit back tears. 'I'm fine. I had suspected it anyway.
I guess that's all I need to confirm it's time to go.'
'You know, I'd like you to stay and be my girl. I'd get
you a real nice place to live, with a maid an' all. I'd even get
the Earl run out of town.'
The champagne and his honeyed Southern accent were
breaking down her resistance, and when he lifted her chin
to kiss her, she didn't break away. His kiss was as smooth
as he was, warm and very sensual, and she was instantly
aroused.
He ran his fingers down her neck lightly as he kissed her,
and even though a small voice deep down inside her was
telling her that to make love with him would be a mistake,
she wanted him. He appreciated her, he treated her like a
lady, and if Theo liked that blonde whore better than her,
then it was time she showed him she didn't care.
Jefferson's hand stole into the bodice of her dress, cupping
her breast, and his kisses became more passionate. 'Let
me take you to my room at the back,' he murmured against
her neck. 'We can be comfortable there.'
He didn't wait for her agreement, just picked her up in
his arms and carried her through a door at the back of the
bar. It was warm in there too, for there was another small

33»
stove, and by the light from it she saw a mahogany carved
bed suitable for a grand hotel, covered with a red patterned
quilt.
He didn't fumble with the small buttons on the back of
her dress, or the laces of her stays, and though she knew
this meant he was practised at undressing women, it didn't
make her feel any less wanted.
His experience showed in his lovemaking too. He didn't
rush, and his touch was firm but caressing as he whispered
little endearments and told her she was beautiful.
She was whipped up into a state of near delirium even
before he removed his clothes; and as she wrapped her arms
around him and caressed him she found him to be all hard
muscle, with none of the softness she'd expected from a
Southern gentleman.
It was weeks since Theo last made love to her, and that
had been a hurried, unsatisfactory snack rather than a feast.
Jefferson offered her a banquet, teasing her, sucking and
licking at her, and when he finally entered her she was
drenched in perspiration and fevered with lust.
"You more than exceeded my expectations, mam,' he said
with a mischievous smile as he propped himself up on his
elbows, looking down at her, but still inside her.
'So did you, sir,' she replied, and giggled. 'I think, too, we
have solved the problem of how to keep warm in Alaska.'
'Whatever happens in the future, I'll always remember
this night and treasure it,' he said, bending his head to kiss
her.
Beth could only smile, for she knew that his words would
ease the guilt she'd feel in the morning.
'I hope I can persuade you to stay on here,' he said a little
later after he'd rolled off her and was holding her in his
arms. 'You and I could be a great team. And when the gold

fever is gone we could go on to other towns and find new
challenges.'

Beth was relieved to find the cabin empty when she got
back there at noon the following day. After the comfort at
Jefferson's place it looked spartan and dreary. Their beds
were just sacks filled with straw, and the one she shared
with Theo was as neat as she'd left it the previous evening,
so she knew he had stayed out all night. Sam's and Jack's
had the imprints of their bodies still and the blankets were
in the usual heap.
Sam and Jack knew Beth had gone back to Jeff Smith's
Parlour for a drink, and as they'd taken the trouble to bank
up the stove before they left this morning, she felt they
couldn't be angry she'd spent the night with him. Yet all the
same she felt awkward about it. It was fine for men to
bed women, but a woman who succumbed to the same
temptation was considered a trollop.
She had already bathed at Jefferson's; he'd filled his bath
for her and even washed her. Sitting down on the rocking
chair he'd given her, she put her head back and closed her
eyes, reliving the sensuality of it all, and decided she didn't
care if she was a trollop. She would brazen it out when the
boys came home. Jack and Sam had romantic dalliances all
the time, why shouldn't she?
As for Theo, if he didn't like it he could just go off and
stay with Dolly the whore. Perhaps when he discovered she
was only good for one thing, that she couldn't cook, sew or
wash his clothes, he'd realize how valuable his Gypsy Queen
had been.
The door of the cabin crashed open late that afternoon, bringing with it an icy wind and a flurry of snow.

Beth had been dozing in the rocking chair. She woke with

a start to see Theo in the doorway, purple in the face with
anger.
'How could you let that bastard fuck you?' he shouted at
her. 'You've made me look like a prize idiot!'
Beth had intended to admit what she'd done, for she
knew someone would eventually let it slip. But she hadn't
expected that word would reach Theo so fast.
For a second she just looked at him, shocked that he was
more hurt by how others would react to the news than by
her faithlessness.
'You had it coming to you,' she said defiantly. 'You've
been a pig to me for months, and you've been spending all
your time with that whore in the Red Onion.'
'I've been involved with business,' he snarled. 'A man's
business interests have to come first if he is to get anywhere.'
'There's only one kind of business going on in a brothel,'
she retorted, her voice rising in anger. 'And I'm never going
to play second fiddle to a whore, so get back there now and
wait in line while she lets every other man in town fuck her.'
He looked at her in astonishment.
'You are a lying, cheating louse,' she continued. 'Telling
people you're an earl! Robbing them blind with your marked
cards! I might have been able to live with that. But I won't
live with a man who doesn't value me. I've stood by you
through everything, but not any more. Get out now and
don't come back.'
He faltered for only a moment, then snatched up his
clothes from the shelf in the corner, bundled them into a
bag and left, slamming the door behind him so hard, the
whole cabin shook.
Beth cried then, bitter tears which were not for sorrow
that she'd been with another man, but for love turned
sour. She would have gone to the ends of the earth for

34
Theo, and for all her harsh words she knew she loved
him still.

A week later Beth and Sam were having a night in. It was
so cold outside that eyelashes became covered in frost within
seconds and lungs hurt just breathing in. They had banked
up the stove with logs, and sat close to it, each of them
wrapped in a warm quilt.
Jack had gone to see the Arnolds, a family with three
children who had arrived in Skagway in early December.
They had been ill equipped from the start, and what little
money they'd brought with them had soon vanished. They
were still living in a tent, like so many people here, and
one of the children, nine-year-old Nancy, had died from
pneumonia just after Christmas.
Jack had tried to get Sid Arnold, the father, some work.
He had been a barber in Portiand, but there was little call
for barbers here where almost all the men favoured thick
beards and moustaches. He lasted only one day in the sawmill
-- he just didn't have the strength for heavy work -- and
he had proved to be something of a liability in every other
job Jack had found for him. Now his wife and young son
Robbie were sick, and Jack had made a collection around
Skagway to send them home on the next ship. But Sid's
eyes were as bright with gold fever as his wife's were with a
high temperature. He kept insisting that he was setting off
for the Chilkoot Pass, convinced that was the answer to
everything.
'Do you think Jack will talk him round?' Sam asked Beth.
Beth shook her head. She had observed this gold madness
for so long that she had come to the conclusion it was
terminal. Most of the people who arrived here had no idea
how far it was to Dawson City -- they imagined it was a

short stroll up a couple of hills. Few realized how cold and
treacherous it was on the mountains, and a great many of
the people who had set off last autumn on both the White
Pass and the Chilkoot Pass had been forced to turn back
and wait till spring.
But the Chilkoot Indians, who were accustomed to using
this trail, had reported that many of those who didn't return
had perished up there. The flesh had been picked clean from
their bodies by birds and other scavengers.
'Maybe the only solution is to put his wife and the two
remaining children on the boat alone,' Beth said sadly. 1
believe they have family in Portland who will nurse them
back to health. That is, if they don't die before a ship
comes in.'
'Are you afraid of going up the Pass?' Sam asked curiously. 'Yes,' she admitted. 'But we've come this far, we'd always
regret it if we didn't go the rest of the way.'
'It won't be the same without Theo.'
'No, it won't,' Beth sighed. 'It will be easier.'
Sam was silent for some time, staring at the fire with
blank eyes. Beth knew that both he and Jack missed Theo
for his imaginative ideas and the fun he could create. They
had admitted that they'd known for some time about Dolly,
and had hoped Beth's night with Jefferson would bring him
sharply back to heel.
But however much they liked him and thought of him
almost as a brother, their primary loyalty was to Beth. So
they hadn't tried to talk to him, and he in turn hadn't gone
looking for them.
'What about Soapy?' Sam asked, breaking the silence. 'Do
you have feelings for him?'
'Lustful ones, perhaps.' Beth giggled. 'But it's been a week
now and he hasn't made any move to see me again. I guess

now he's heard Theo's out of the picture, I don't look quite
so attractive.'
Sam half smiled. 'Maybe that's just as well, sis, he's a
dangerous man. I like him well enough, but he's more slippery than an eel. If just half the stories about him are
true, there's still enough to put the wind up anyone. You'll
find the right man one day, someone who is worthy of you.'
Beth reached forward and ruffled his thick blond beard.
We've come a long way, haven't we? I doubt the Langworthys
would recognize us now. Not just the way we look, but
how we've changed inside. Imagine us trying to have
tonight's conversation when we were back in Liverpool!
Remember what Mama said about passion? I had no idea
what that was then.'
'Nor did I.' Sam smirked. 'That was one of the best
discoveries.'
They both laughed and went on to talk about how good
it was to be away from the restrictions they'd grown up
with, and that they were friends, as well as brother and sister.

'Has there ever been a woman you didn't want to say
goodbye to?' Beth asked.
'It would be quicker to list those I was glad to,' Sam
joked. 'I always seem to meet someone there's a real spark
with just as we're moving on. Take that small redhead who
helps her mother make pies down on Main Street!'
'Sarah?' Beth had spoken to the girl many times. She was
very proper, never went into the saloon or encouraged any
of the men's advances. But she had a feisty air about her
and she was very pretty.
"Yes, Sarah from Idaho. I really like her, she's got that
kind of-' He broke off suddenly at the sound of gunfire.
'That's close by,' he exclaimed, shrugging off the quilt and
getting to his feet.

Gunfire was commonplace, just as brawls in the streets
and saloons were. But it wasn't usual to hear it in this part
of town.

'Don't go out, Sam,' Beth begged him. 'You know what
it's like when a few of them are drunk and riled up. You
could end up among them and get hurt.'

He hesitated. 'I'll just look out the door and see what's
going on. No harm in that.'

As he pulled the door open an icy blast came in. Sam
reached for his fur-lined coat and hat and quickly stepped
outside, shutting the door behind him. Beth got up to look
out of the tiny window, but all she could see was Sam's
shoulder and the snow-covered ground. But as she heard
people shouting, her curiosity was aroused, and she reached
for her coat and hat too.

Sam grinned as she came out. 'Didn't think you could
resist! Dare we walk down there? It sounds like it's in State
Street. Let's just take a peek. We won't get involved.'

They hurried, Beth taking Sam's arm for security on the
slippery ground. As they turned the corner into State Street
they came upon a crowd of people huddled around a man
lying on the ground. Even in the poorly lit street they could
see blood staining the snow.

'Who did it?' Sam asked a man walking past.

'Dunno his name, just a guy who'd been fleeced, I guess.'

'Do you know the man that's been shot?' Beth asked.

'That guy they call the Earl.'
Chapter Twenty-seven

Sam tried to restrain her, but Beth wriggled away from him
and pushed through the people crowding around Theo. Her
heart was thumping with fear, but all memories of her last
angry words to him were wiped from her mind.
'Theo!' she cried as she sank down on her knees beside
him.
'He ain't gonna make it, mam,' a man in the crowd called
out.
It didn't look good. Theo was unconscious and Beth
could see a hole where the bullet had gone through his coat
into his shoulder. Blood was pumping out of it. Catching
hold of his wrist, she felt for a pulse. It was there, but weak.
'He certainly won't make it if we leave him here to freeze,'
she said sharply. 'Someone help me get him to the doctor.'
Theo stirred and opened his eyes. 'Beth!'
His voice was so quiet, Beth leaned closer to his face. "Yes,
it's me. But don't talk or move, it will only weaken you.'
As Sam came forward to help, one of the other men
suggested they got something firm to lay Theo on, and
almost immediately a woman came running out of the nearest
saloon with a narrow table-top in her arms. 'They busted
the legs off in a brawl,' she said by way of explanation and
rushed back inside out of the cold.
Sliding the table-top under Theo, Sam took his head end
and two others took his feet.
Dr Chase's cabin was close by, and someone rushed ahead
to knock him up. Beth had never met the doctor as she'd

never needed any medical help, but she knew him to be a
good man because he and Reverend Dickey were responsible
for funding the building of a cabin as a hospital, due to open
very soon, and the doctor was also well known for treating
very poor people without charge.
Dr Chase, a small, slender man with glasses and thinning
hair, was already in his apron and rolling up his sleeves as
they arrived at his door.
'Put him on the table,' he said, moving the lamp closer.
'Are any of you relatives?'
Sam explained that he and Beth were Theo's friends and
travelling companions and gave him their names. The doctor
asked them to stay to help, and for the others who had
followed on to leave.
'I hope you aren't squeamish,' he said to Beth as he began
peeling Theo's clothes away at his shoulder. 'Because I'll
need you as a nurse. Go and wash your hands thoroughly.'
As Beth washed her hands in the basin the doctor had
pointed to, she glanced back at Theo. He had no colour in
his face, his lips were blue and he was unconscious. She felt
sick with fright, for as the wound was exposed it looked
terrible, a mass of dark red tissue and blood.
She put on an apron and rolled up her sleeves, and the
doctor asked Sam to stand firm behind Theo to restrain him
if he struggled.
'It's fortunate he is unconscious,' he said quite cheerfully.
'But the chances are he'll come round when I begin probing,
so be ready.'
Beth wanted to ask why the doctor couldn't give him
chloroform, but she didn't quite dare, and stood by to follow
his instructions.
'If one has to take a bullet, it's a pretty good place for it,'
Dr Chase said, indicating Beth was to hold his tray of

instruments and pass whichever one he needed. 'Why was
he shot anyway?'
'We don't know because we weren't with him when it
happened,' Sam said. We only ran to see when we heard
the shot.'
'His name?'
'Theodore Cadogan,' Beth said.
'Ah, the English Earl,' the doctor said. 'From what I've
heard it was only a matter of time before someone shot him.
And you then,' he said, looking over his glasses at Beth, 'must
be the much acclaimed Miss Bolton, the Gypsy Queen?'
Beth felt a wave of shame wash over her, for the implication
in his words that she was no better than she should be
for consorting with a man like Theo. But the doctor said
nothing more, and cleaned the wound with swabs, then
began probing into it. Theo regained consciousness once
and struggled to get up, but fortunately passed out again.
'There we are!' said Dr Chase, jubilantly holding up the
bullet in the jaws of his pincers. 'It hadn't gone in too far,
luckily for him. But he's going to need good nursing to
recover. Bullets are easy enough to extract; the real problem
comes when infections move in. Are you up to that nursing,
Miss Bolton?'
'Yes, of course,' she said without any hesitation.
'I shall stitch him up, and he can stay here tonight.
Tomorrow I'll get someone with a cart to bring him to your
cabin. I'll give you instructions then as to his diet. He has
lost a lot of blood and it will take him a while to recover his
strength.'

'Why did you help me?' Theo asked the following evening.
The doctor had brought him round to the cabin that
morning, and the two men with him had lifted him on to


348

I
the bed. Theo had been given something for the pain, and
that made him sleep most of the day. Beth had made a pot
of beef tea as the doctor ordered, and she was stirring it on
the stove when Theo spoke.
'Because I didn't see Dolly the whore rushing to your
aid,' she said waspishly. 'But if you would rather go there
and lie in her flea-ridden bed, you only have to ask.'
'I would much rather be with you,' he said, his voice very
weak. 'You are the only woman I've ever really loved.'
Beth felt tears welling up in her eyes, but she bit them
back. 'I'll take care of you for old times' sake, but don't
count on me long-term, Theo.'

Theo was in a great deal of pain for the first few days. Dr
Chase came by to change the dressings daily and said he
was pleased to see no sign of any infection, but showed no
sympathy for Theo.
'You're lucky you aren't dead,' he said blundy. 'I've got
patients who have become sick through no fault of their
own, and they are my priority.'
It appeared that the man who fired the shot had left town,
perhaps because he thought he'd killed Theo, and feared he
would be charged with murder. All Theo would say on the
subject was that he deserved what he got. Beth took that to
mean he had swindled the man.
She passed the days by reading to him and passing on
any gossip, and in truth she was glad to be inside in the
warm with him. Jack or Sam took over on nights when she
had to play.
It was ten days after the shooting before Jefferson spoke
to her about it. He hadn't come into Clancy's saloon in all
that time, and she hadn't seen him around the town either.
But suddenly there he was in the crowd watching her

play, smiling that lazy, seductive smile that made her pulse
speed up.
'Have a drink with me?' he said as she got down from
the little stage.
'I've got to get back,' she said, dying to ask him where
he'd been all this time, but knowing that wasn't a smart
thing to do.
'Nursing duties?' he said, lifting one eyebrow. 'What does
the Earl do for you that warrants such tender care? I heard
you slung him out after our night together?'
'We go back a long way,' she said. 'I don't turn friends
away when they need help.'
He put a glass of rum in her hand. 'And when he's
recovered?'
Beth shrugged. 'I don't know. That's up to him.'
'By that I take it you will fit into his plans? If he goes
back to Dolly, you'll be free; if not, you'll be tied to him?'
'Look, I don't know, Jefferson,' she said in irritation.
'When I took him in to nurse him it was because of our
past, just as I would take care of Jack if something happened
to him. I can't think beyond that right now and I don't
understand why you are questioning me about it. You didn't
even drop by to see how I was when you heard I'd chucked
him out, so why should you care now?'
'Because I like you and he'll bring you down.'
'He's not that different from you,' she said indignantly.
'That's why I know how it will end.'
Beth sighed, drank down her rum and picked up her
fiddle case ready to leave. 'Then I hope you'll have someone
who will take care of you if you get shot,' she said crisply.
'Goodnight, Jefferson. It was nice while it lasted.'

She thought he would come after her; after all, on their
night together he had said he wanted her as his girl. But

perhaps that was just part of his patter and all he'd really
been looking for was another conquest.
'I've been a blithering idiot,' Theo said a few days later.
He was up and about now, though he couldn't do anything
strenuous; even dressing himself had to be done carefully
and slowly.
'What brought you round to that startling conclusion?'
she asked.
'Don't be sarcastic,' he said reproachfully. 'I'm trying to
make you see I do value you. I always did, but the thing that
makes me saddest is the distance between us now, when we
were once so close. I know it was me who caused it. But
I don't know how to get you back where you used to be.'
'I don't know either,' she said sadly. 'Sometimes I think
it's this town full of people with only gold on their minds.
It's affected us all. Even Jack, who spends all his spare time
helping people, can't wait to take off on the trail. It's like a
disease.'
'Maybe the only cure for it is to take that trail then,' Theo
said.
¦You won't be strong enough for that for some time.'
'A month should do it. But the real question is whether
you want me with you.'
'Of course I do, Theo! Maybe I don't adore you blindly
the way I used to, but I still love you. If you would just be
more honest!'
'Honesty didn't bother you with Soapy,' he said. 'He's far
more dishonest than me, he's a liar, a thief, a swindler, and
no doubt he's had people killed too, though I doubt he
dirtied his own hands with that.'
'At least he was there when I needed someone,' Beth
snapped. 'I didn't see Dog-faced Dolly rushing to your aid.'

35i
'That's it then, sis,' Sam said as he took the last sack of their
supplies out of the cabin and loaded it on to the hired cart
that would take it the three miles to Dyea and on to the
start of the Chilkoot Trail. 'Say goodbye to the cabin.
I doubt we'll come back this way.'
Theo was sitting up on the cart. His shoulder had healed
well, but the weeks of inactivity and good food had made
him gain weight, giving him a flabby look. Jack, in contrast,
was very lean, for he'd been working six days a week building
houses, shops and cabins. This was to ensure they had
enough money to pay the Indian packers to carry their goods
to the top of the Pass.
Along with the compulsory ton of provisions to be
allowed into Canada, carpentry tools were needed to build
a boat at Lake Bennett, a shovel, sledge, stove, tent, bedding
and many other essential items. As most men could only
carry fifty pounds on their backs up the trail, this meant that
if they didn't hire Indian packers they would have to make
dozens of trips up and down, which could in effect take
three months to complete.
The vast majority of their fellow gold seekers had no
choice but to do that, for the packer's price per load was
exorbitant. But Theo wasn't strong enough to carry more
than a few pounds, and neither Sam nor Jack wanted Beth
to take heavy loads. With their combined funds they had
enough, and they reckoned that what they lost in money
would be made up for in time, and being able to take some
items that they could sell for a big profit in Dawson City.

'I have to post this letter home before we leave,' Beth
said, waving an envelope. Just a couple of days earlier they
had finally received a letter from England with a photograph
of Molly taken on her fourth birthday just before Christmas.
Beth had hastily penned a letter back enclosing a picture she



I

I
and Sam had had taken here in Skagway, and telling Molly
and the Langworthys that they were about to leave for the
goldfields.
She had wondered as she wrote it whether people back
in England had any idea of what this trip entailed. Beth had
a fairly clear idea that it was going to be no picnic, as
foresighted Jack had been out to the start of the trail and
talked to people who had given up half-way, and what he
learned was almost enough to make them abandon the idea.
'We'll go on, you catch us up when you've posted it,'
Theo called out. 'But don't get waylaid!'
It was late March now, and most of the people they'd got
to know during the winter had left on either the White Pass
or Chilkoot Trail over a month ago. But if all went well
Beth knew they'd meet up with them all on the shores of
Lake Bennett. The ice on the lake wouldn't break up till the
end of May, so they couldn't depart before that.
Skagway looked very different now to how it had been
when they first arrived. There was a wharf, a church and a
hospital, and the main streets were lined with real buildings
-- shops, saloons, restaurants, hotels, houses and cabins. The
roads were still a slick of mud, made worse now as there
had been a slight thaw in recent days. But the tent city all
around the town was still there. Different tents now, for the
old ones had either moved with their owner or been torn
apart in gales. Ships disgorged hundreds more gold seekers
daily. Some stayed only a short time before making for the
trails; others would get sucked into the seedier side of the
town, lose all their money and eventually catch a ship home.
Beth was glad to be leaving. She'd had some good times
here, but more bad ones. She wouldn't miss the rowdiness,
the filth, the exploiters or the exploited. But she was going
to miss the tapping feet and handclapping as she played her


fiddle. She would never forget those smiles of pure joy as
she lifted her audience away from their worries and cares.
As she passed Clancy's saloon she smiled when she saw
the chalk sign still up announcing 'Gypsy Queen playing
tonight'. Picking up a piece of chalk lying on the ground in
front of it, she added: 'Not tonight, I'm off to the Klondike.
See you there.'
Turning away from the sign and still giggling to herself,
she saw Jefferson leaning against a crate watching her while
he smoked his pipe.
'So you're off then?' he said.
'Just posting a letter and I'll catch up with the cart.'
'Stay and have a drink with me. I'll take you to catch them
up on my horse afterwards.'
She opened her mouth to refuse politely, but as she caught
his twinkling eyes she couldn't resist. 'For old times' sake,'
she laughed. 'But only an hour, not a moment longer, and
if you don't take me then there'll be trouble.'
'You post your letter and I'll have the drinks poured when
you get back,' he said.
As she walked through the door of Clancy's, he popped a
bottle of champagne. 'I thought I'd give you a good send-off.'
He smiled. 'It might be the last good thing in months.'
He poured her a glass and leaned on the bar looking at
her. 'You'll be missed here,' he said eventually. 'There's
plenty of pretty girls in town, but few with your spirit or
pluck. Maybe I'll get up to Dawson one day and see how
you're doing. If you haven't been snapped up by a rich gold
miner, I'll whip you off to San Francisco and make an honest
woman of you.'
'That would be hard for you to do, when you are so
dishonest,' she retorted. 'Besides, I want to go back to
England. I've got a little sister that I need to see.'

She took the picture of Molly she'd placed in the inside
pocket of her coat for safekeeping, and showed him. Her
hair was as long and curly as Beth's, tied up with two
bows, and she was wearing a white frilled pinafore over her
dark-coloured dress. She was no longer a baby but a little
girl, with round dark eyes and a very serious expression.
'She looks like you,'Jefferson said. 'I guess she's the kinda
kid anyone would want to go home to see. And your folks
too. They must miss you.'
'They're dead,' Beth said, and suddenly found herself
telling him what had happened. 'I don't know why I told
you that,' she finished up, feeling embarrassed. 'I never tell
anyone.'
Jefferson shrugged. 'It will be getting the picture of her,
it brings things back. I've got a picture like that.'
'Ofalitdegirl?'
'No.' He laughed. 'A picture of you, taken in here one
night. I only collected it a few days ago. It made me think
how things might have been, if only -' He broke off and
grinned at her.
'If only what?'
'If only I'd been a different kinda man. If only I'd come
round to see you after that night and told you how I felt.'
'How did you feel?' she whispered.
'Like I was all brand new again. Like there could be a life
without swindling and fast talking. But I guess I wasn't brave
enough to try for it.'
Beth lifted her hand and pinched his cheek tenderly. 'You
were brave enough to tell me now. I'll tuck that away inside
my head and think on it sometimes.'
They talked for a while about the changes in Skagway
since she'd arrived, and how it might be in years to come.
I le asked after Sam and Jack, but didn't mention Theo.

'Don't trust anyone on the climb up the Pass,' he said
suddenly. 'There's men up there who look like stampeders,
a pack on their back and as dirty as anyone else. They'll offer
you a little kindness, a hot drink or a warm by their fire.
But they ain't real stampeders, they're con men, and they'll
fleece you.'
She had a strong feeling that these men he spoke of might
even be in his pay, but she thanked him for the advice and
said it was time she went.
He took her hand as they left the saloon to get his horse
from the stable, and the touch of his smooth hand on hers
made a tremor run through her.
A man brought the chestnut mare out to him, and as he
held it steady, Jefferson stretched out his hand for her foot
and helped her up into the saddle. Then, leaping up behind
her in one agile movement, he put his arms on either side
of her to take the reins.
'Giddy-up,' he said, and they cantered down the street,
out on to the track to Dyea.
In Skagway, with all its hustle and bustle, the beauty of
the scenery all around the town often went unnoticed. But
once away from that tumult, with the weak winter sun
shining on the turquoise water of the Lynn Canal, and the
snow-topped mountains all around, it suddenly came back
sharply into focus.
As they jogged along, Jefferson pointed out a couple of
seals in the water and a bald eagle perched on a fir tree.
Beth couldn't help wishing that they'd had time before to
have a little trip together like this, and really talk.
There were many groups of people trudging along the
road to Dyea, some pushing handcarts, their baggage piled
high, others using pack mules or horse-drawn carts. Suddenly
Beth spotted the boys and their cart up ahead. 'I think


I
you should leave me here,' she said. 'I can soon catch up
with them.'
Jefferson jumped down, as lithe as a cat, then, reaching
up, he caught her waist and swung her down. But he didn't
let go of her. 'Farewell, my Gypsy Queen,' he said. 'Take
good care on that trail, and think of me sometimes.'
He kissed her then, long and hard, holding her as though
he never wanted to let her go. Then, breaking away, he leapt
back on his horse, wheeled around and galloped off.
Beth stood on the path for a moment or two watching
the rear of his chestnut mare, his straight back and black
hat, and felt a tiny pang for what might have been.
Chapter Twenty-eight

'God save us!' Beth exclaimed as they wearily approached
Sheep Camp, the last place they could get firewood or
provisions before setting off up the mountain.
They had already endured three days of painfully slow
progress as they and a thousand other stampeders hauled
their carts and sledges up a pot-holed track from Dyea,
which criss-crossed the river several times. Sleet, flurries of
snow and the sheer volume of people, carts, dogs and pack
animals made the path rutted and treacherous. The hastily improvised bridges were so ramshackle that on one occasion
they had all ended up to their knees in icy water and had to
continue with sodden boots and clothes.
But it wasn't the sight of hundreds of milling people and
animals in this last real camp before climbing up to the summit
that caused Beth's shocked exclamation. She wasn't even put
off by the huddle of primitive shacks, abandoned heavy
items like stoves, chairs and trunks, or even the torn tents
and the mountains of goods piled up waiting to be moved on.
Her shock was caused by what lay beyond all that.
The Chilkoot Pass. And, more importantly, the climbing
it would entail.
Every would-be gold seeker knew the Pass was tough.
Back in the saloons of Skagway everyone had heard at least
a dozen different horror stories from people who had either
turned tail and ran when they saw it, or were driven back
by bad weather. But hearing about it and seeing it for herself
were entirely different.

Sheep Camp was in a hollow at the end of the timber
line, encircled by mountains. Beth knew the summit they
had to reach was 3,500 feet above Dyea, just four miles
above her head if she could have flown straight up there
like an eagle. But she wasn't a bird, and the route they would
be taking sent a shudder of fear and awe down her spine.
The mountain appeared to be draped with a continuous
winding black ribbon which stood out in sharp relief against
the snow. It consisted of climbers, bent over like apes under
their heavy backpacks and seemingly motionless. But Beth
knew they were moving, for they couldn't stop; even a
momentary pause would snarl up the queue coming up right
behind. If anyone did choose to move out of the line to
rest, they would never get back into it.
Theo had turned pale and Sam was rubbing his eyes as if
unable to believe what he was seeing. Only Jack looked calm
and ready to join that fearsome chain in the morning.
'There are two places to stop,' he said. He pointed out a
giant boulder and said he had been told that climbers could
rest a while at the base of it. He then indicated a flat ledge
further up and said that was the Scales. 'That's where our
packers will reweigh our load and probably charge us still
more.'
Jack didn't go on to remind them that the part of the
Pass which was the most difficult and hazardous was beyond
the Scales, and not visible from Sheep Camp. No pack
animals could climb what had been named the Golden
Stairs, 1,500 steps cut out of sheer ice by some entrepreneurs
who demanded a toll for using them. Once on them there
was no stopping anywhere until the top was reached.
Sam, Theo and Beth looked at one another in horror.
Had it not been for Jack's stalwart stance, they might have
voiced their fear of making the climb. But Jack had become

3 59
their commander since they left Dyea; he alone had kept his
nerve when the cart nearly fell off a bridge, or got stuck in
a rut; his strength, determination and calm had got them
through so far and they believed he'd make sure they got all
the way to Dawson City unscathed.
'If we pitch our tent here tonight, it will be hell putting it
all away at first light tomorrow,' Jack went on, seemingly
unaware that they didn't share his excitement. 'So I reckon
Theo and Beth should go and get us a place in one of the
hotels here. Sam and I will find our packers and ask where
they want us to put all this.'
Beth glanced at the cart with its mountain of their equipment
and the required provisions. It had seemed a formidable
amount even back in Skagway, yet they'd still raged at
the fee charged by the Indian packers for each sack. But
now she had seen the mountain it had to be taken up, she
felt faint at the thought of what it would mean if they had
to carry it all themselves. She said a silent prayer of thanks
that they'd managed to get the money for packers together.
She doubted that she would've been able to carry even one
sack on her back to the top, let alone repeat it again and
again.

The so-called hotels bore no resemblance to any hotel,
however humble, that Beth had ever seen, yet she was soon
to discover the price was similar to that of the hotels in
New York. They were just shacks, with no beds, just a tiny
space on a bare floor, with dozens more people packed
round them. If they bought a meal it would cost close to
two days' wages.
She found you could buy almost anything at Sheep Camp,
provided you had enough money. Whisky, dark glasses to
prevent snow blindness, sledges, fur hats, even candy. There

were whores too, who for five dollars would make sure a
man enjoyed his last night of relative comfort before striking
out for the summit.
Despite her exhaustion from the day's arduous trek, Beth
couldn't help but smile at these whores, for they were the
plainest, grubbiest women she'd seen since the shirt factory
in Montreal. Some sported ragged satin dresses, a blanket
tied round their shoulders like a cape, heavy men's boots on
their feet and hair like rats' tails. Yet there were plenty of
takers for their services.

Once into the 'hotel', hemmed in on all sides by humanity,
there was no possibility of getting out again during the
night. Beth was sandwiched between Theo and Sam, and
the stench of feet and other body odours was so strong that
she pulled her fur-lined hood right over her mouth and
nose, and hoped that exhaustion would ensure she could
fall asleep.
She was awake for what seemed all night, listening to an
orchestra of different kinds of snores. There were loud
roaring ones like steam trains, high-pitched squeaks, some
regular, ordinary snores and some irregular ones, and every
now and then someone would break wind, cough or groan.
One man sounded as though he was praying, and another
swore in his sleep. It was like a mass tuning of strange
instruments.
Theo's breathing was heavy, Sam's light. Jack was lying
behind Sam but she couldn't distinguish his sound from
anyone else's. Beth was aware that this was probably the
most comfortable and warm she could expect to be for
weeks and that scared her even more. Why was she going?
She didn't care about gold and she could make enough
money in Skagway to ensure she could go back to England

?6i
next year with a sizeable nest egg. What if there was an
avalanche while they were on the mountain and she was
buried alive? What if she fell and broke her leg or arm?
What then?
She must have fallen asleep eventually for the next thing
she knew, Jack was shaking her and saying it was time to go.
By midday Beth was already convinced she couldn't take
another step. The pack on her back was small, just twenty
five pounds in weight, containing nothing more than dry
clothing, while the boys had ones twice as heavy, and Sam
and Jack had a sledge each too, but it felt like a ton weight.
The snow was packed hard underfoot, but uneven because
of the stones beneath it, so she had to watch where she was
stepping, using her stout pole for support as she dragged
herself, puffing and panting, ever upwards.
She was sweating from the exertion in so many clothes,
but the one time she took off her fur-lined coat, the icy wind
chilled her to the bone within seconds. She wanted a hot
drink and a sit-down, her eyes watered in the icy wind, her
lips were cracking and every bone in her body was shrieking
at her to stop. She cursed her long skirt and petticoats which
gathered up the loose snow with every step, and determined
that when they finally got to the Scales, she would break
with propriety and persuade Sam to let her wear one of his
pairs of trousers.
She got the only drink of the day at the Stone House
when Jack heated up water in their volcano kettle, feeding
the fire he'd lit inside it with dry sticks and wood shavings
he'd stored up from his carpentry work back in Skagway.
As he bent over it, blowing into the fire between the double
walls, Beth watched him in admiration, wondering why it
was only he who had realized back in Vancouver that this
curious doubled-walled invention with space to light a small

fire inside it would be the single most useful piece of equipment
they could own. It could be lit in a high wind or even
rain and still boil the water quickly.
She recalled the skinny, pale-faced street urchin Jack had
been when they first met. Even then he was resourceful and
tough, but he had grown in every possible way since. His
face above his thick dark beard was as brown and weather
beaten as an Indian's now, the thin scar on his cheek barely
visible any longer. His broad shoulders, arms and thighs
were solid muscle. He had embraced and learned something
from every experience he'd had since he left the immigrant
ship, whether it was butchering beef, bartending or building
cabins. He was the steel in their small group, the one
they all relied on, drawing on his strength when all theirs
was gone.
'How are your feet?' he asked, noticing immediately that
Sam was hobbling as he moved to get the coffee and sugar
from his pack. 'Have you got a blister?'
'I expect so; my boots are rubbing on my ankles,' Sam
groaned.
'Take them off and I'll put a bandage round them,' Jack
said. 'And you, Theo! How is that wound holding up?'
'It's not too bad, a few twinges, that's all,' Theo replied,
tucking his hand inside his coat as if to check the scar hadn't
broken open.
'I'll check that too,'Jack said. 'But coffee first. Beth looks
as if she'll collapse if she doesn't get some quickly.'
A lump came up in Beth's throat for she didn't understand
how Jack had turned out to be such a caring man. From the
little he'd told her about his childhood she knew it had been
a harsh one, the kind you would expect to create an unfeeling
brute.

By the time they had reached the Scales, Beth was on the
point of collapse. Every part of her ached, as if she'd been
stretched on a medieval torture rack.
The sky was like lead, and she'd heard someone say they
thought it would snow again soon. When she looked down
the way they had come, the stream of climbers was just as
long as it had been that morning, and she wondered at the
insanity of it all.
She dimly heard Jack say they would pitch the tent for
the night and then go to check if their packers had got
everything up yet.
Beth crawled into the tent even before the boys had
finished hammering the pegs into the frozen ground. Every
inch of ground around the Scales was covered with tents,
and the sound of hundreds of voices, complaining, arguing
and calling to one another, made her want to cover her ears
to shut them all out.
Somehow she managed to get the blankets out of their
packs, but fell on to them before she could even straighten
them out or attempt to light the lantern.
It was dark when the boys had got back from checking
on their kit, and although Beth had heard their voices as
they came into the tent, she hadn't felt able to move or even
open her eyes.

They camped at the Scales for three days because of a heavy
snowfall. Others went on up the Golden Stairs regardless,
but Jack thought it foolhardy, for someone had fallen and
broken his leg, and had to be carried back down to Sheep
Camp by Indian packers.
It was tedious huddling in the tent, but at least it gave
them time to rest and gather themselves for the next gruelling
part of the journey. The men Jefferson had warned her

about were here at the Scales in force. They looked like
bona ride stampeders, complete with backpacks and shovels,
but the fires they lit, the hot drinks they offered the unwary
were only to lure a few suckers into one of their pea-under
the-shell games. She recognized a few faces as being some
of Soapy's foot soldiers and guessed he would get a good
rake-off from them. Theo sulked for some time when she
told him how she knew the games were rigged, but at least
that deterred him from allowing himself to be sucked in.
On the fourth morning Jack announced it was time to
pack up the tent and go, even though the sky was heavy
with more snow and the temperature had dropped even
lower.
'If we leave it any longer our goods will be buried under
feet of snow at the top,' he said with an anxious glance at
the sky. 'Besides, there's never going to be a good day for
going up those steps.'

Sam took the lead with his sledge strapped on top of his
pack. Beth came next, with Jack behind her, sledge and pack
arranged like Sam's, and Theo bringing up the rear. It was
imperative they kept in step with the person above them,
and with a strong, icy wind threatening to blow them down
the mountain and only a thin rope at the side of the ice
steps to steady themselves, every step was tortuous.
Sweat poured off them and their muscles shrieked for
mercy; the icy wind on the exposed parts of their faces felt
like a thousand pinpricks. Beth didn't dare look anywhere
but where she was placing her feet, for one slip could be
fatal, and her back ached, bent into such an unnatural position.
She counted the steps at first, but gave up after five
hundred. Above the sound of the whistling wind there was
a continuous, communal low groan, the sound of a couple

of hundred souls all stretched to the limits of human
endurance.
One man high above Beth and the boys keeled over
sideways and slid back down the mountain, screaming, but
no one even looked round, let alone broke their step to try
to help him. It could be said they would have been risking
their own lives and those of all who came behind to do so,
yet all the same it seemed barbaric to ignore him. But the
climb was far too hard for anyone even to waste breath on
a comment. Beth felt Jack touch her back lightly as if to
communicate that he felt impotent too.
On and on they went, not daring to look behind or
even above them. The universal groan was growing louder,
mingled with the sound of rasping breath.
It began to snow again, and suddenly Beth could see
nothing more than Sam's boots just above her. Agony was
mingled with terror now for she couldn't imagine how they
could pitch a tent when they got to the top, and if they had
no shelter they would surely die of cold.
'You can keep going, Beth,' Jack said from behind her, his
voice eerie in the strange white world. 'We'll be fine, we're
nearly there. Just think of that tea we'll make. Keep going.'
She heard a strangled cry from well below them and she
guessed someone else had fallen. Then a yelp came from
Theo.
Beth involuntarily turned her head, but she could see
nothing but a snow-covered shape which she knew to be
Jack. 'Hold on to the sledge,' she heard him say to Theo.
'I'll help pull you up.'
It was a grey-white world, in which she could see no
further than two feet and sound became distorted. Surely
the Scottish accent she'd heard a couple of hours earlier had
come from above her? Now it seemed to be below. But

Jack's voice steadied her, reminding her they were nearly
there, that Theo was holding on, and that Sam was just in
front of her.
A woman screamed out that she could go no further, and
a male voice urged her on, but their voices seemed to be
coming from Beth's right and confused her still more.

'Just concentrate on the next step,' Jack called out as she
faltered. 'It's not much further.'
Finally they reached the top to find themselves in what
looked at first like a white city. The buildings were towering,
snow-covered piles of goods, the streets the narrow corridors
left between them.
Jack uttered an anguished oath on realizing that to find
their goods would be a tall order. They had given their
packers a long pole trimmed with a few bright ribbons to
mark them, but they hadn't reckoned on the snow obliterating
everything. Men were up on the heaps digging frantically
with their shovels, and they heard one man claim he'd been
digging for three days already.
There was nowhere to pitch the tent. The only shelter
was within this 'city' and Jack led them through the winding
streets until he found a place where they could rig up a
tarpaulin for a roof over their heads.
It was warmer without the icy wind they'd struggled
through all morning, and they sank down gratefully on to
their sledges and once again made tea in their volcano kettle.
All four were silent, and Beth had no doubt that they were
all thinking the same as her, that they should have waited
for spring. Darkness was already closing in, and the prospect
of a night huddled here, perhaps many more too if they
couldn't find their kit, was too terrible to contemplate.
Jack and Sam were revived by the hot tea, and taking the
lantern went off to start a search for their goods.

'How is your wound?' Beth asked Theo as they huddled
together on the sledge with a blanket around them.
'I don't think it's broken open,' he said. 'But even if it
had, I deserve it for bringing you here. This is no place for
a lady.'
'I'm far from the only one,' she said. 'And one day we'll
look back on this and laugh about it.'
'I hope so.' He sighed. 'My wish is that I can make it all
up to you by being the perfect husband and giving you the
kind of home you deserve.'
'Is that a proposal?' she teased him.
He took his hand out of his glove and stroked her cheeks
tenderly. 'It is if you want it to be, but I had intended to ask
you somewhere a great deal more romantic than this.'
Beth glanced to her side at the narrow passage between
the piled goods. It was still snowing, and other people had
come along to share the passage with them; they too were
fixing up tarpaulins for a roof. She laughed. 'I don't think
we're going to find a romantic setting for some time yet.'

They had thought the climb up the Golden Stairs would be
the absolutely worst part of the trail, but the next two days,
as they tried to find their goods, were a long, drawn-out
torture. It was impossible to sleep; they were filthy, cold and
desperate for a hot meal, and the noise from so many people
packed all around them and the ceaseless high wind and
flurries of snow took them to the very edge of insanity.
They all dug snow off piles of goods, only to be disappointed,
and despaired of ever finding their supplies.
Digging warmed them a little, but their muscles ached unbearably,
and when they stopped digging the cold seemed
to freeze up every joint in their bodies.
Bedi dreaded needing to relieve herself. Men went any where, regardless of who was nearby, but she couldn't do
that, and the more she worried about it, the more often she
seemed to need to go.
On the third day up there, with even heavier snow coming
down, Beth really thought she couldn't survive another day.
Tears froze on her cheeks and her lips were so cracked she
could barely speak. Even Jack was showing signs of flagging.
She watched him climbing up a snow-covered pile of goods
and noticed how slow he had become. Theo looked deathly
pale and staggered when he tried to walk, and although Sam
was doing his best to keep up with Jack in the search, it was
clear he was on the point of collapse.
Yet it was Sam who finally found their goods. He had
taken himself off to try to get his circulation going again,
and just happened to walk past another man who'd found
his stuff. As he pulled out his last sack, Sam spotted their
ribbon-trimmed pole sticking out beneath it. If he hadn't
been there, within an hour the snow would have covered
it again.
Packing it all on to the sledges warmed them and lifted
their spirits a little, even though snow was coming down
thick and fast. Finally they hauled the sledges to the snow
covered hut with a tattered Union Jack flying on it, where
the North West Mounted Police, armed with their Maxim
guns, stood guard over the border into Canada.
Beth was reassured to see the familiar red jackets and
navy blue trousers, and heartened to know the police officers
would allow no hand guns into Canada. They were determined
that the violence and lawlessness of Skagway should
not move across their border.
Duty had to be paid on the goods they had brought from
the Alaskan side of the mountain. But Theo turned up
trumps by producing a sheath of receipts for goods bought

back in Vancouver, and argued that he shouldn't have to
pay tax on them, only on the items bought in Skagway.
Beth wondered how the Mounties could be so pleasant
and cheerful, stuck on top of a mountain for months on
end in such appalling weather. They might have buffalo
coats, but their shack was little warmer than a tent, and in
one night the snowfall could be six feet. Yet they seemed
amused at Theo's argument and nodded agreement, charging
them only two dollars' tax in all, without even checking
their kit.
Miraculously the snow ceased and weak sunshine
appeared as they left the summit, wearing their snow shoes,
for the five-mile trek to Happy Camp. Despite having to
haul the heavily laden sledges and adjust to the strangeness
of snow shoes, for the first time since they'd left Dyea the
going was fairly easy. The number of people who had gone
before had made the snow firm, and the sledges glided over
it smoothly. They were astounded when someone told them
they had only travelled twenty-two miles from Dyea, and
eight and a half from Sheep Camp, for it seemed like a
hundred.
Despite their exhaustion, the fact that they were moving
at last, with the prospect of the night ahead in a tent and a
fire to warm them, perked them up. At some downhill points
of the trek they even rode on the sledges, shrieking with
laughter like children. Some people had rigged up a sail on
theirs and even overtook the few that had a dog team.

It was clear why the camp had been named Happy, for it
was flat and therefore easier to pitch a tent there, and at last
they were back in the timber line, so they could cut wood
for fires.
Happiness was all around them that evening, despite

the thick snow and promise of more to come. The relief
of being able to rest up before going on, the conviction
that nothing else could be as bad as the Golden Stairs or
the summit, and to be able to sit around a big fire and dry
out wet clothes was enough to bring smiles and laughter
back.
After they'd made a meal of bacon and rice, Beth got out
her fiddle and began to play by the fire. In twos and threes
people came across from their tents to listen, cheering at
the end of each number. Someone brought a bottle of
whisky over to share with Beth and the boys and the fiery
liquid went straight to their heads, making them laugh about
everything.
Later, as people left to go back to their tents, Beth stood
for a moment looking around her. There was a full moon,
and the sky was clear and studded with stars. The trees
around the camp were poor, thin specimens, but with their
snow covering they looked magical. Even the tents all
around theirs, which she knew to be stained and worn,
looked pretty in the golden light from the fires outside each
one. In all the anxiety of the last week she hadn't noticed
the scenery at all, but now, at peace again, she saw how
beautiful the wilderness was, and found she was excited
about the adventure before them.
'One day I'll be able to tell Molly about it all,' she thought,
glancing round at the boys sitting half asleep by the fire.
They were all so dirty and unkempt, with red-rimmed eyes,
straggling beards, tangled hair and bundled into so many
clothes, they could have been mistaken for three bears.
She hoped that there might be a photographer somewhere
among the people going to Dawson City. It would be good
to have a permanent memento of how they all looked on
this trail and something to show Molly.

37'
A wolf howled somewhere close by, and its cry was picked
up by some of the dogs in the camp. Beth shuddered and
hurried back to the fire. For a moment she had forgotten
that wild animals lived in this wilderness.
Chapter Twenty-nine

'We're here at last!'Jack chortled gleefully as he ran with the
sledge through the narrow end of Lake Lindemann on to
Lake Bennett.
Most of their fellow stampeders on the Chilkoot Trail
had stayed on the shores of Lake Lindemann to build their
boats to sail to Dawson City, but as Jack had heard that
when the ice melted the rapids between the two lakes were
very dangerous, he had decided that they should tramp
through to Lake Bennett and build their boat there.
Theo had been disgruntled at what he saw as an unnecessary
trek. He had liked the tented city at Lake Lindemann,
where a gambling saloon, bars, shops and even restaurants
had sprung up, and he'd been sure he could win enough at
poker to buy one of the many collapsible boats brought over the Chilkoot Pass by a dealer. He and Jack had almost
come to blows about it, for Jack had claimed these boats
weren't strong enough to get them ten miles, let alone five
hundred, and he accused Theo of being too lazy to work at
building a safe one.
Beth had been on tenterhooks during the few days they
spent at Lake Lindemann, as she could see how exasperated
Jack was becoming with Theo. Jack had willingly hauled
extra weight for him over the mountains. He'd let him ride
on the sledge from Happy Camp to Lake Lindemann when
his shoulder hurt, and excused him from helping to cut
wood and other strenuous jobs. But he resented Theo
swanking around treating him like his servant. Beth feared

Jack would push on to Dawson City on his own, and she
wouldn't have blamed him if he had.
But as it was, Theo lost most of his remaining money in
a poker game, so buying a boat was out of the question, and
ultimately he had no choice but to fall in with Jack's plans.
He hadn't taken it well, though. Beth felt that underneath
all Theo's superiority, he was actually jealous of Jack because
so many people looked up to him, while he was seen as
something of a parasite. He'd hardly said a word as they
walked along the frozen lake, not even to her.
But then, Beth had her own private irritations with him
too. While she wanted to put aside the hurt he'd caused her
back in Skagway and have things back the way they were in
Vancouver, she was finding it difficult.
As they all moved forward on to Lake Bennett, however,
any ill feeling between them fell away, for the sight that met
their eyes was truly astonishing.
Aside from the spellbinding beauty of the long, narrow
frozen lake insinuating its way through a range of snow
covered mountains, there were tents spread along its shores
for as far as the eye could see.
The thousands of tents came in all shapes and sizes, from
brand-new ones to old, tattered ones, from tiny improvised
ones, which would only shelter one man, to marquees big
enough for a circus, and every other kind in between.
They had known that the White Pass, the alternative,
longer route over the mountains from Skagway, ended up
here, so they had expected a crowd of people, but they
hadn't anticipated this many, or to see so many animals.
The White Pass had been dubbed 'Dead Horse Trail',
because so many hundreds of horses died on it from starvation
and ill treatment. One of the Mounties at the border
had spoken out angrily at the cruelty and stupidity of people


setting out without enough fodder for their animals. Yet
there were many horses here, along with dogs, oxen, donkeys,
goats, and even pens of chickens.
It was also a cacophony of sound: the thud of axes on
wood, the buzz of saws, insistent hammering, dogs barking
and people yelling to one another. Just a couple of years
earlier this must have been a silent wilderness which only
Indians and the occasional trapper passed through. Now it
was a city in the making.
Theo brightened visibly as he saw a marquee advertising
faro and poker games nightly, and although Beth could take
no pleasure in him gambling away the last of his money, she
was glad to see him smiling again. She thought too that she
could make some money by playing her fiddle, as she had
at Lake Lindemann.
'How much further?' Theo grumbled when an hour later
Jack was still heading onwards down the lake.
'There's more trees down here. It's bad enough having
to chop them down for the boat without having to haul
them a distance,' Jack said tersely.
Beth exchanged glances with Sam. She knew he felt awkward
being stuck in the middle, for he liked both men and
had sympathies on either side. He too enjoyed a game of
cards and a drink, and he still believed that Theo was the
one who would eventually make them all rich. Yet at the same time he knew the three of them depended on Jack, for
he had all the skills required to get them to Dawson safely.
Sam pulled a face at Beth. He didn't need to say a word
-- she knew he was thinking that Jack was a little too forceful
and bossy, and that they could all do with a couple of days
of complete rest before starting to build a boat.
She decided that she should intervene, so, picking up her
skirt, she ran after Jack. 'Can't we have a couple of days off

S71)
before we start on the boat?' she asked him. 'I mean, it's
only March, and the ice won't melt until the end of May, so
we've got lots of time.'
Jack stopped short, letting go of the rope on the sledge
he was dragging, and looked at her with some amusement.
'Do you see how many people are here already?'
'Well, yes.' She shrugged.
'Every single day that number will grow larger,' he said
patiently. 'They are pouring over the two trails in their
thousands, and before long all the trees we see now will be
chopped down. We have to start getting our wood right
now as soon as we've made camp, or risk someone else
getting it.'
Beth looked at him appraisingly. He was as dirty and
bedraggled as every other man, with his bushy beard, matted
long hair and his exposed skin raw from the bitter weather.
But he didn't have that intense gold lust that was in every
other man's eyes. She doubted he even dreamed of great
riches the way Theo and Sam did.
'Fair enough.' She nodded. 'That makes sense, but tell
me, Jack Child, what drives you? I don't think it's the gold.'
He chuckled softly, looking back at Sam and Theo who
were resting on their sledge. 'Someone has to make sure you
three get there safely.'
'That doesn't really answer my question,' she retorted.
He smiled and reached out and patted her cheek. 'I
thought it did.'

By the middle of May their craft was completed, a sturdily
built raft with a mast, a rudder to guide it, and slats around
the sides to keep them and their kit safe in turbulent water.
The boys had named it Gypsy, painting the name and the
craft number, 682, on the rail across the prow. Samuel Steel,



376
I
the superintendent of the Mounted Police, had decreed that
all craft must be registered, and he had gone around the
stampeders giving them each a number and logging down
the names of everyone on each craft and their next of kin,
in case of accidents on the long sail to Dawson City.
The raft sat on the ice on the edge of the shore, along
with thousands of other craft, waiting for the day when the
ice would break up. Many bore little resemblance to any
boats Beth and the boys had ever seen; triangular shapes,
round and oval ones, huge rafts big enough to take horses,
scows, skiffs, catamarans, canoes, and some were little more
than crude boxes.
Many were still being built, and despite the sunshine
and clear blue sky, the air rang with squabbles, sawing,
hammering and often curses, for those who hadn't finished
their boats were stressed and panicked, and everyone else
was in a state of high expectancy.
It was estimated that there were now 20,000 people here
on the shores of Lake Bennett, their tents and equipment
covering the entire length of it. Every possible amenity
was here, including bath tents, barber-shop tents, a church,
casino and post office, along with shops selling everything
from bread to gum boots. Yet because of the Mounties'
vigilance, there was none of the crime and skulduggery seen
in Skagway. It was said that some of Soapy's henchmen
had come over the Pass, but had been sent back with dire
warnings not to return.
-¦-.ft ¦
The only serious trouble was between men in their saw
pits, cutting green timber into planks for their boats. They
had to work in pairs either end of a six-foot-long blade. The
one above on the scaffolding guided the saw along the chalk
line on the lumber, while the man below had to pull it down,
but as the big saw teeth bit into the wood, the one below

was showered by falling sawdust. He was often convinced
that his mate was not guiding the saw correctly, just as the
man above claimed the lower one was holding the saw
handle too tightly. Bitter arguments often exploded into
bloody fights, and life-long friendships that had endured
through all the trail had thrown at them were destroyed
permanendy.
Jack, Sam and Theo had avoided much of that because
they had decided to build a raft made from whole slender
trees rather than a boat of planks, but even so there had
been a great deal of cursing and squabbling. Theo felt he
was above manual work, and often disappeared. Sam was
willing, but he would cut corners if Jack wasn't standing
over him. Beth had often heard Jack berating both of them
and threatening that he would leave without them if they
didn't pull their weight.
But the work was all done now. All that was left to do
was fix up the sail and stow their kit on board, and as the
spring sunshine became a little warmer each day, and the
days grew longer, they could hear the distant rumble of
avalanches in the mountains and the gurgle of melting snow.
Mostiy everyone who had finished their boat tended to
spend their days now sitting on the shore, idly watching the
dark green lake water visible through the ice as they whitded
another paddle or oar. Someone had joked a few days earlier
about the rush to the goldfields being called a 'stampede'.
To all of them such a name was a joke, for it had been quite
the opposite so far. It had been a slow, painful trudge, a
three-month trial of endurance. There were no pot-bellies
on any of the men now, their bodies were lean and muscular,
and their gaunt faces, thick beards and long hair were all
proof that they were no longer greenhorns. They smirked
with pride as they spoke of those who had given up and

gone home. There was a bond between them because of all
the hardships and obstacles they'd overcome.
The women still had no time to sit on the shore. For
them there were clothes to wash and mend, food to be
prepared, letters to be written and dozens of other small
jobs to be done which would make their men's lives more
comfortable. But Beth took time off to watch the geese
flying overhead, to study the carpets of flowers that appeared
as the snow melted -- mountain forget-me-nots, Dutchman's
breeches and wild bleeding hearts.
After living in an all-white, snow-filled world for so long,
the colours that appeared as the snow melted seemed fantastically
bright. Red mountains, dark green fir trees and the
acid green of lichen and mosses vied with the pink, blue and
yellow alpine flowers that carpeted the ground away from
the squalor of the camp. The sparrows and robins were
coming back, and often the sound of birdsong almost
drowned out the sawing and hammering.
Sometimes Beth would go off with her fiddle, away from
the constant noise of the camp, and play for herself, glad to
be alone. One day she saw two baby bears frolicking in the
sunshine beneath a big rock and she hid herself away to
watch from a safe distance, feeling privileged that she'd seen
them. Their mother soon returned to them, cuffing them
playfully with her big paws, and the sight evoked memories
of Molly back home and brought tears to Bern's eyes.
It often struck her when she was entirely alone that she
had no plans or even dreams for the future any more.
Everyone else on the trail had the dream of gold; at night
around the campfires they discussed what they'd spend it
on, where they'd go next. But Beth seemed unable to think
beyond the next day. There were many things she wanted a
real weatherproof house, a hot bath, a soft bed, fresh fruit,

and to be able to put on a pretty dress and know it wouldn't
be soiled with mud in five minutes. She would like Theo to
make love to her, for that had been impossible since they
left Dyea, what with the cold, how dirty they were, and
always having Sam and Jack so close. She also longed to see
Molly and England again, but even that seemed so far away
she couldn't call it a plan.
She wondered what had happened to all the dreams she
used to have. Of the house with a lovely garden. Of her
wedding day, or a holiday by the seaside. She thought of
them only occasionally now. Was that just because she'd
already seen so much more than she could ever dream
about? Or that she'd become disillusioned?
Theo often wove dreams about them living in a fancy
apartment in New York, or in a grand mansion back in
England. She would have liked to believe they might come
true, but she couldn't. Theo had won back the money he
lost by Lake Lindemann, but then he'd lost it again. The reality
was that this was how it would always be with him, never
secure, never settled, always looking out for the big chance.
Beth was aware of all his faults, and knew too that they
were major ones that would never change. Sometimes she
wished she'd taken note of what Ira had said about gambling
men and had never given him her heart. But when things
were good between them it was wonderful, for he was funny,
clever and so loving, and she tended to overlook the bad
parts -- the disappearing acts, the lies or half truths, the
laziness and conceit.
Her real security came from within her. She knew she
could earn a living anywhere with her fiddle, and she loved
that as much as she loved Theo. Maybe she didn't need a
dream because she was already living it?

They heard the first crack in the early hours of 29 May. Beth
thought it was a gunshot and sat upright in alarm. But then
another came and she realized it was the ice breaking up.
It never really got dark at night now. The sky turned pink
and purple around midnight, as if the sun was finally setting,
but it didn't go completely dark at all. So she leapt up, pulled
on her boots and, shouting to the others, ran down the few
yards to the shore.
By the time the boys had joined her, there were hundreds
of people gathered to watch. The ice was creaking and
rumbling, dark green water spurting out through the cracks
and washing away the building detritus, wood shavings,
nails and patches of tar where they'd caulked their boats.
Someone cheered and everyone joined in, holding hands
and spinning one another round like children in a playground

That last day on Lake Bennett was one of pure joy for
everyone, for the following morning they would be able to
sail away. Beth dug her red satin dress out to wear in the
evening. It had some black mould on it from being packed
away so long, but she sluiced it off and hung it up to dry,
excited by the prospect of looking like a real woman again,
even if it was only for one night. She washed her hair too,
leaving it to dry in the warm sunshine.
Everyone else was busying themselves with similar tasks.
The queue for the bath tent was the longest she'd ever seen
it, and someone told her that they were resorting to using
the same water for twelve men, and offering them a rinse-off
with cold water.
Some of the men, Jack included, pitched in to help the
folk who hadn't yet finished their boats. Even the dogs
picked up on the excitement and ran around the camp
barking wildly.

?8i
At eight that evening, Beth played her fiddle to a packed
house in the Golden Goose, the big gambling saloon marquee.
People who had never been seen in there before
turned up, and everyone danced.
Much later, as Beth was leaving to go back to the tent
with Theo, the sound of the thunderous applause still ringing
in her head, and over thirty-five dollars in Theo's hat, she
heard a young man singing 'Sweet Molly'. Until that moment
she'd forgotten her mother used to sing it to Sam and her
when they were small, and hearing it again now, so far from
home, on the eve of the last stage of their journey, seemed
portentous.
Sam and Jack had stayed behind in the saloon, and for
the first time in months, Theo made love to her. Later, as
Beth lay sleepily snuggled into his shoulder, listening to all
the merrymaking throughout the camp, she felt she must be
the happiest woman there.

The late-night revels didn't prevent anyone getting up early
the following morning and running down to check on the
state of the ice.
There were still some large chunks floating by but it was
clear enough to set sail and go. Suddenly everyone was
striking their tents, packing up their pots and bedding, and
hauling their provisions and equipment down to their boats.

Beth smiled to herself as she folded up her red satin dress
and put out her best boots for Theo to seal up in one of
the big waterproof sacks which they wouldn't open again
until they got to Dawson City. She was wearing her old dark
blue cotton dress again, her mackinaw coat, wide-brimmed
hat and rubber boots. A change of clothing and her fiddle
were packed in a small waterproof bag for the journey.

1

She watched Sam as he packed away his things. He was
bare-chested, the first time she'd seen him without a shirt
since the previous summer, and it was a surprise to see that
the boyish, slender chest and back, that she remembered
from their days in Liverpool were now rippling with hard
packed muscle. But then, she'd got muscles in her legs
and arms too. All that pack-carrying, sledge-pulling and
carrying buckets of water had made her almost as strong as
the men.
'Are you excited, Sam?' she asked.
'You bet!' he said, his handsome face breaking into a wide
smile. 'I know we've got a long way to go yet, but it'll be an
easy ride, and the weather's so good now.'
'I wonder if we'll still stick together when we get there,'
she said thoughtfully. 'Do you still think you and Theo can
make a go of a gambling saloon?'
"Course we can, sis.' He laughed. 'With you pulling them
in with your fiddle, we can't fail.'
'Do you ever think of England?' she asked. This was a
question she'd never thought to ask him before.
He smiled. 'To be honest, not much. What is there to go back for? We'd never have the thrills we get here.'
'But there's Molly,' she said.
He scratched his blond head and looked a little perplexed.
"We'd be nothing to her now. She won't even remember us.
Besides, I know I wouldn't fit into that narrow way of life
again. Not after this.'
Beth felt a lump come up in her throat and her eyes
prickled with tears. 'Then I guess I'll have to go back alone.'
Sam caught hold of both her arms and squeezed them.
'What's up with you, sis? You shouldn't be thinking about
stuff like that today. We're off on an adventure.'
'How many times do you think you've said that to me

3»S
since we left Liverpool?' she asked. 'It's always what's going
to happen next, never a pause to think on the past.'
'Was the past that good it needs digging up?' he asked
with a trace of scorn in his voice. 'As I recall, it was all about
being told what I had to do -- no one ever asked what I
wanted. Well, I wanted to be rich even as a boy, and I want
it more than ever now. It's up there in Dawson City, Beth,
just lying around waiting for us, whether we dig it out the
ground, or take it from others at gambling. Being rich will
wipe out Papa killing himself because Mama was unfaithful
to him.'
Beth was shocked to hear him say such a thing. She'd
thought he'd put that aside a long time ago.
'I can't forget, he said, as if he'd read her thoughts. 'It
stops me trusting women too -- except you of course.'
'Well, I'm glad of that much,' she said sarcastically. 'But
what happens if you don't get rich in Dawson?'
'I will,' he said blithely. 'I know it.'

Over 7,000 boats sailed that afternoon in the warm sunshine,
a vast armada of the strangest craft ever to be seen anywhere.
Some had only an old coat or shirt as a sail; most sported a
kind of home-made flag with the boat's name painted or
sewn on to it. Some of the craft were already listing dangerously;
others looked jaunty and sporty. Old folk, young folk,
bankers, shop clerks, farmers, soldiers, sailors and dance-hall
girls -- every walk of life was represented here. Some had
left wives and families behind, some escaping the law; there
were those from privileged backgrounds and those from big
city slums. Yet the vast majority had never done anything
exciting in their lives before and had invested their life
savings in this mad adventure.
Beth felt all their hopes as she sat in the stern of Gypsy,

I

with Jack and Sam paddling like fury, and Theo at the
rudder. The cries of 'See you in Dawson' rang out over the
lake and echoed in the mountains. She glanced towards
the shore to see what looked like a vast waste tip: abandoned
sawmills, ragged remains of tents, clothes and packing cases.
Empty bottles and cans glinting in the sunshine, thousands
of tree stumps, a whole forest cut down to build boats.

Everyone paddled and rowed frantically at first, all wanting
to be up with the front runners, but as they reached
deeper water, a breeze got up and caught the sails, and the
paddles and oars were put down.
Later, the wind dropped and they were all becalmed, but
as if by some silent message sent from boat to boat, no one
reached for their oars, but just settled down, lit their pipes
and let the current take them. Singing broke out all over the
lake, the joyful sound of people who believed the worst was
all behind them and that tomorrow was soon enough to
rush for the gold.

The race resumed early the following morning, and Jack was
delighted to find their big sail came into its own and took
them along at a good speed. There were perhaps forty or
fifty boats ahead, but behind them the rest of the vast
armada was bunched up in clusters.
What with the warm sun, shining water and because their
raft appeared to be far more stable and manageable than
any other they'd seen, their spirits rose even higher. Jack
had built low stools for them to sit on, so any water splashing
up through the cracks of the raft wouldn't soak their clothes,
and they lounged on them, complimenting themselves on
their good workmanship and foresight.
It was during the afternoon that Beth noticed some of
the people in the boats ahead were pointing to what looked

like a red flag hanging from a tree, and a scrawled one-word
message on a piece of wood, saying, 'Cannon'.
'Seems like a warning,'Jack said, and the words had barely
left his lips when they heard the roar of tumbling water
beyond.
As the lake made a slight turn to the left, they suddenly saw
a narrow gorge before them, with steep black stone sides.
Beth gasped, Theo turned pale, and Sam waved his hat
in excitement. 'Hold tight,' Jack shouted. 'This must be
Miles Canyon.'
One of the Mounties had told them about the canyon.
He said it was a terrifyingly dangerous place with two lots
of rapids beyond it, but none of them had expected it to
come so soon. It was too late for them to paddle over to
the shore and check it out, for the raft was being sucked
straight into the gorge.
'Take the paddles and use them to stop us being smashed
against the sides,' Jack yelled, thrusting a paddle into both
Sam's and Theo's hands. 'I'll try and steer us. Beth, you just
hold on for dear life.'
They all looked on in sheer horror as the raft hurtled into
the canyon. It was a third of the width of the river they'd
been in previously, and because the water was being forced into a much narrower space, it created a crest some four
feet high in the middle. They were virtually teetering on this
crest, going at breakneck speed, and the roar of the water
was so loud they couldn't hear one another speak.
The water was full of drifting timber, brought along here
on the current from the mountain lakes, and large boulders
and sharp rocks. Beth clung to the rail, watching in terror
as Jack tried to steer them round the obstacles, and each
time she heard a scrape on the bottom of the raft she braced
herself for it being overturned.

Ahead of them they saw a large scow capsize, and five or
six men desperately trying to cling on to it as it swirled
around, smashing into rocks and boulders.
Beth glanced behind her and saw a canoe upturned, with
no sign of the owner. But it was too frightening even to
think about others, for their own raft was spinning round
and round, up at the prow one minute, and then the stern
would rear up like a bucking horse. Huge, icy waves washed
over the raft, and they had to cling on to the sides in fear
of being thrown overboard.
Beth closed her eyes involuntarily, and when she opened
them she saw two more boats crash into boulders. One
broke up instantly as if it were built from matchsticks.
Only Jack was standing. He'd lashed himself to the raft
rail with rope, and with every muscle in his body straining,
he held his paddle in his hands, using it to steer them past
rocks and avoid crashing into the canyon walls.
One minute Sam had been kneeling at the prow, also
wielding his paddle to push them away from rocks, but
when Beth looked again he was gone.
'Sam!' she shrieked at the top of her lungs. 'Sam's gone
over!'
She clung to the rail as she frantically looked for him but
she could see nothing in the dark, boiling water but chunks
of timber.
Theo and Jack were searching too, but like her they
couldn't see him.
'He'll have been swept ahead of us!'Jack yelled out. 'He'll
have the sense to grab some timber to hold him up.'

She had to hope Jack was right, for it was clear there was
nothing they could do to rescue Sam even if they should
see him in the canyon.
The raft went into a spin then as it was caught in a

whirlpool and all they could do was cling on tightly, praying
that the nightmare would soon be over.
Out of the whirlpool they came and were shot into an
even narrower canyon, then spat out with force at the end
into rapids. They felt the sharp rocks scraping the bottom
timbers of the raft and heard screams coming from other
boats, but they were being swept along so fast they could
barely see who or what they were passing.
Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. They
were in calm water again.
Jack paddled to the shore, leapt out and secured the raft.
All along the bank there were boats doing the same thing,
some smashed up, some holed underneath. Most of them
had lost goods or people overboard.
The roar of the rapids was behind them, but the sound
of people wailing in distress was all around. Huge sacks of
goods floated by, flour, sugar and rice spilling out. A cage
of squawking chickens crashed into the bank, dogs swam
for shore and shook themselves. There were many people
in the water, most clinging to a big log or a packing case.
Theo and Jack jumped in and swam to their aid, while Beth
ran back along the bank, looking for Sam.
She saw two people pulled out lifeless, their friends and
relatives desperately trying to revive them, and finally she
caught sight of Sam. Even from a distance of some hundred
yards she knew it was him by his butter-coloured hair and
the red neckerchief around his neck. She knew too that he
was dead, for he was floating on the current, his limbs not
moving.
'He's there!' she shouted to Theo and Jack, pointing to where he was. 'Get him quickly.'
The swift current flashed Sam along to them, and together
they hauled him over towards the shore. Beth plunged into

the shallows to help them and, taking her brother's head in
Iher hands, she saw it had been cracked wide open on a rock.
All three were silent as they lifted Sam on to the shore,

Ieach of them knowing that the frantic life-saving efforts
others were making with their loved ones were of no use to
their friend and brother.
Beth dropped to her knees beside Sam, sobbing as she
dried his handsome face with her skirt. He had been far
more than a brother; he was her childhood playmate, her
ally, friend and confidant and they'd shared everything for
their whole lives. She couldn't believe that fate could have
been cruel enough to snatch him from her.
She could hear a terrible wailing sound, and as Jack and
Theo tried to take her arms to lift her away from Sam's
body, she realized that the sound was coming from herself.
'I can't go on without him,' she cried angrily. 'He's all
I had left of my family.'
¦You've still got us,' Theo said, pulling her into his arms.
'We know how you feel. Jack and I loved him too.'
It was only then that she saw they were both crying as
well. There was no attempt to hide their grief in a manly
way; tears streamed down their faces unchecked and their
eyes mirrored the pain she felt.
How long they stood huddled together by Sam's body
weeping, Beth didn't know. They were all soaking wet and
shivering with the cold, but it was as if shock and grief
had paralysed them. More craft must have been overturned
coming through the rapids, for she dimly heard others
screaming and shrieking. But it was only when a man spoke
their names and offered to help dig a grave that they came
out of their frozen state sufficiently to recognize him and
his companions as men they knew from Lake Bennett, and
to acknowledge that they did have to bury Sam.

3«9
'He was a good man,' their leader said, his eyes full of
real sympathy and understanding. 'We are so very sorry for
your loss. Let us help you.'
'It isn't right,' Beth sobbed as she watched the men start
digging into some softer ground a few yards from the water's
edge. 'We've come so far and been through so much. Why
did we have to lose him now?'
'I didn't see him go,' Jack said wildly, as if he believed he
might have been able to change the outcome if he had.
Theo knelt down beside Sam and smoothed his blood
streaked hair back from his forehead. 'Oh, Sam, Sam, what
will we do without you?' he asked, his voice cracking with
sorrow.

It didn't seem real to Beth as she watched Jack and Theo
lower Sam into the hastily dug grave. Her mother and father
had both been buried on cold, grey days; she'd said goodbye
to Molly in similar weather; even the day she'd lost her baby
had been cold and bleak. Funerals were meant to be on grey
days, in sober places, not here in bright sunshine by a
sparkling river with clumps of vivid spring flowers growing
along its banks. Sam was young and strong -- he had his
whole life ahead of him and so many plans and dreams; it
couldn't be right that he wasn't going to achieve any of
them. Beth almost felt as if any moment she would wake
and find it had been a terrible nightmare, and Sam would
laugh with her about it.
But it was real, for Theo was reciting a passage from the
Bible, his voice trembling as he struggled not to break down.
The wooden cross Jack had nailed together and roughly
chiselled Sam's name on to was lying on the mound of soil
waiting to be speared into the grave.
Their voices were thin and reedy as they sang 'Rock of

39°
Ages', and Beth thought bitterly that God had deserted her
once again.
All along the river bank others were dealing with the
aftermath of the canyon, some digging a grave, some tending
those who'd been injured. She could hear weeping and the
distressed cries of those who'd lost their boats and goods.
And she could hear the sound of her own heart breaking.
Chapter Thirty

'How muchee? How muchee?' Another group of Stick
Indians called out from their camp on the river bank. Beth
averted her eyes for they were dirty, ragged and sick-looking,
and she felt guilty at not giving them anything. But they'd
already given food to other groups further back along the
river, and they could spare no more. Besides, she'd been
told that the Indians sold whatever they were given back to
other stampeders, and with thousands of boats passing every
day, they were probably making a good living.
The early spring flowers had given way to bluebells and
lupins, a sea of blue along the river banks. Every now and
then Beth would spot a moose, sometimes with a calf,
drinking from the river, or a black bear peeping from behind
a tree as if astounded at so many humans going through its
domain. Wild fruits -- cranberries, blackcurrants and raspberries -- were ripening amongst the rocks and mosses and
the scent of wild roses wafted to her on the breeze.
It was spectacular scenery, and she wished she could
delight in it all. But since Sam died back at the Squaw Rapids,
it was as though the sun had gone in for good and she'd
never rejoice in anything again.
Five men lost their lives that day, and countless more
would have done if Steele of the Mounties hadn't arrived to
avert further disaster. Aside from the deaths, there were
dozens of boats smashed up; all those sacks of provisions
carried over the Pass were split open and ruined in the
water, and many treasured possessions were lost. Some

I
people were so distraught they were tearing at their hair,
sobbing and screaming.
Steele made rules on the spot that no more boats should
sail through the rapids without a competent person in
charge, and that all women should bypass the rapids by
walking the five-mile overland route.
Jack had hardly said a word since they buried Sam. Beth
knew he was torturing himself with the thought that he
could have prevented the accident. But both she and Theo
knew he could not have done. He had done well to get the
raft through in one piece with all their goods intact. Sam
must have been careless and let go of the rail.
But rationalizing how it came about didn't help their grief.
No one would ever be able to take Sam's place in their lives,
and right now Beth couldn't see how she could go on
without him.
When she tried to stop thinking about her brother she
found herself dwelling on the baby she lost and feeling
desperate to see Molly again. She supposed this was natural;
Molly was after all her only living relative now. She couldn't
count the times she had got out her photograph, drinking
in her sweet face and curly hair, and thinking back to those
early days when she'd fed and changed her.
Beth couldn't expect Jack and Theo to understand her
feelings about Molly, but it did give her some comfort that
they felt just as keenly as she did about Sam. Maybe she had
the lion's share of memories and the blood tie, yet they had
loved him too. The pain was still too raw for any of them
to speak freely about their feelings, or to share their best
memories of him. But maybe that would come in time.

They were close to Dawson City now, and the river Yukon
was a seething mass of boats. Joining all those who like



them had come down from the mountain lakes were many
Sourdoughs. Beth understood the name came from the habit
of old-timers up here keeping a small piece of bread dough in
a bag inside their shirt so that it stayed warm and could be
used like yeast to make the next batch of bread they cooked.
These men were grizzled old prospectors who'd been holed
up all winter at their claims on small creeks. Some of them
had been in the region for years searching for gold.
The excitement that they were nearing their destination
was palpable. People shouted out greetings; they wanted to
share their stories about their journey and hopes for what
lay ahead. But Beth and the boys couldn't bring themselves
to enter into conversation, for one mention of Sam might
make them break down.
Beth hoped that everyone assumed their silence and grim
faces were symptomatic of the fearsome heat and the tormenting
mosquitoes, for that appeared to be making some
people act irrationally. She and the boys had witnessed many
vicious fights and slanging matches, usually between men
who had soldiered amicably through so much already. Whatever
it was that was causing it, it was terrible to see, for they
seemed to hate one another like poison now, wanting to
separate to go it alone. They watched two men on the bank,
actually sawing their boat and provisions in half as they
screamed abuse at each. Another couple were fighting for
ownership of a frying pan, until someone else came along
and solved the problem by throwing it into the river, so
neither could have it.
It was a madness that Beth and the boys found impossible
to understand. Sam's death had made them realize how
much they valued one another, and how little mere goods
and chattels meant.

Darkness never came now, just a slight dimming of the light
around midnight, but by two in the morning daylight had
returned. They would make camp on the shore just long
enough to light a fire and cook a hurried meal, then set sail
on the raft again, Theo and Jack taking it in turns to sleep.
It wasn't that they wanted to beat others to Dawson, foj:
their hearts had gone out of that, but because they needed
to be occupied. They realized now, too late, that it was Sam's
enthusiasm, cheeriness and constant optimism that had kept
conversations flowing in the past, and without him there
seemed nothing to say.
On the morning of 12 June, Beth was half dozing at the
stern when she heard Jack shout, 'It's Dawson City! At last
we're there.'
They hadn't known exactly where it was, and they'd been
hugging the river bank for the last two days for fear of
coming upon it suddenly and being swept past by the strong
current. But as they rounded a rocky bluff, there it was in
front of them. The fabled city of gold.
Beth didn't know what she had expected it to look like,
but the reality, a sprawl of tents, log cabins, false-fronted
emporiums and teetering piles of lumber, wasn't that different
to Skagway. There was even the same black oozing mud.
Yet this mud stretched from the shoreline right into the
little town, and she could see no planks put down to walk
on, no boardwalks or even stones as there had been in
Skagway. Horses and carts were floundering in it, and people
were trying in vain to pull heavily laden sledges through it.
Later, they were to discover that the town had been
flooded when the ice melted a couple of weeks earlier, and
the people who had built cabins right down on the shoreline
saw them swept away. But it seemed such things were just a minor setback in Dawson City, for as soon as boats began

arriving with provisions, especially longed-for luxuries like
eggs, whisky and newspapers, the muddy streets were a mere
inconvenience.
They managed to find a spot along the boat-crowded shoreline to moor the raft, and hauled their kit right up to
the back of the town, the only place they could find free to
pitch their tent. They heard that to rent one room cost a
hundred dollars a month, and every commodity changed
hands for extortionate prices.
'Good job I brought those nails,' Jack said, spotting a
sign advertising them for eight dollars a pound. 'Not that I
want to sell them -- we'll need them to build a place of
our own.'
'Maybe I'll get a good price for that silk and satin I
brought along,' Beth said thoughtfully. The boys had argued
with her back in Skagway and said she should take something
more useful, but she had stuck to her guns, insisting
that she knew there would be women desperate for dress
material once they got to Dawson. Judging by the stained
and dreary clothes most of the women here were wearing,
she was right.
After they'd pitched their tent, they went back down to
Front Street to take a look around. This street overlooking
the river was clearly where everything happened and where
everyone gathered. It was lined with saloons, hotels, restaurants
and dance halls, though all of them had clearly been
thrown up in a hurry. Every minute or so another boat
moored and the owners hauled their belongings on to the
shore, adding to the utter chaos. Thousands of new arrivals
were wandering around aimlessly, while the veterans, who
had by all accounts suffered all winter from a scarcity of
almost everything, harassed the newcomers for everything
from brooms to books.

As at Lake Bennett, there were huge piles of lumber
everywhere, and the buzz of saws and the hammering of
nails made it difficult to hear what anyone was saying. Building
work was going on everywhere -- shops, saloons, banks
and even a church -- yet disconcertingly there appeared to
be no overall plan.
Down by the shoreline people had set up stalls selling
everything from boots to boxes of tomatoes, all at sky-high
prices. Many of these goods had been brought in by a
steamer just a few days earlier, but they saw an elderly
woman they'd met in Lake Bennett, who'd managed to
get her chickens up the Chilkoot Trail, selling them for
twenty-five dollars each.
There were coundess signs proclaiming 'Gold Dust
Bought and Sold'. Outside some of these cabins, grizzled
looking men with shaggy beards, and small leather bags
hanging from their belts, stood in line smoking their pipes.
A man in a loud checked suit and a black stetson hat
informed Beth and the boys that these were Sourdoughs,
who'd struck it rich on their claims at Forty Mile and
Eldorado Creek. He said he thought the gold they were
selling today was worth a king's ransom, yet they looked like
tramps, without a cent to their names.
However strange everything was, it was colourful and
vibrant. Men in smart suits and homburg hats mingled with
others in ragged, mud-splattered trail clothes. They saw a
pretty blonde in a pink satin dress being carried over the
mud by a bare-chested man who looked like a prize fighter.
There were dogs everywhere, mostly malamutes and other
sledge dogs, but there were also women carrying toy dogs
under their arms, and greyhounds and spaniels picked their
way daintily through the mud.
'It don't feel right seeing this without Sam,' Jack sighed.

It was a pivotal moment, for Beth had thought the same
and she guessed Theo had too. She felt grateful to Jack for
being brave enough to come out with it.
'If he was here we'd all be arguing what to do next,' she
said, half smiling as she imagined how excited he would
have been.
'Then we must do what we aimed for, for him,' Theo
said unexpectedly. 'He wanted to get here more than all of
us. So we can't let him down now.'
Tears prickled in Beth's eyes and she buried her face
against Theo's chest to hold them back. He was right -- the
best kind of memorial they could give to Sam would be to
succeed here. That way, maybe they'd be able to cope with
their loss.
Beth lifted her head away from Theo and wiped her moist
eyes. 'Then I must find somewhere to play tonight,' she
said. 'And you two must start looking for opportunities.'

Beth went into the Monte Carlo Saloon on Front Street
while Theo and Jack went to check out a few other places.
From the outside the Monte Carlo looked the smartest
and busiest of all the saloons, with fresh paint and a large
picture of Queen Victoria over the door, and it had signs
claiming to have gaming rooms and a theatre. But the timber
facade which promised sophistication was false. Inside it
was unprepossessing, only one step up from a rough and
ready shed, the gaming rooms dark and dreary, the theatre
small and spartan with hard benches.
Undeterred, Beth approached a man with a swirling moustache
and a fancy waistcoat behind the bar and asked him
if she could play her fiddle there.
He looked her up and down and shrugged. 'You wanna
take the risk, then that's your funeral,' he said. It was clear

he didn't believe the young woman before him, in her shabby
dress and gumboots, could possibly entertain his customers.
'So if I
just come in and start playing, and pass a hat round at the end, it will be all right with you?'
'Sure, honey,' he said, already turning away to reach for a
glass and bottle. 'But don't expect too much, or fer me to
look out fer you. It gets rough in here at nights.'
The man's obvious conviction she would only make a
fool of herself made Beth anxious to prove him wrong. She
went back to the tent, washed her hair in a bucket, dug out
her scarlet dress and polished up her best boots. It was only
a couple of hours later that she learned from the people in
the next tent that the man behind the bar was Jack Smith,
one of the men who'd struck it rich out on Bonanza Creek
and built the Monte Carlo.
But it transpired he wasn't such a good judge of character,
for he'd sent his partner, Swiftwater Bill Gates, off to Seattle
with ten thousand dollars in gold to buy mirrors, velvet
carpets and chandeliers for the saloon. News had already
filtered back here that Gates had actually gone to San Francisco
and was being called the King of the Klondike because
he was distributing the gold to one and all while he lived
the high life in the city's best hotel.
Beth was amused by the story and it made her even more
purposeful. At seven that evening she was back outside the
Monte Carlo, which was almost shaking with the thunderous
noise coming from within. But with shining hair trimmed
with a feathered comb, her red dress and determination in
her heart, she was ready for anything. She slipped off her
muddy gumboots, leaving them by the door with her fiddle
case, put on her clean, shiny boots and, with Theo and Jack
looking anxiously on, tucked her fiddle under her chin,
striking up a spirited jig, she walked in.






I
It took a few minutes for the music to percolate around
the saloon. Beth was nervous, her fingers sticky with sweat
from the heat, and she was intimidated by quite so many
rough-looking men in one small space, but she let her mind
conjure up Sam, imagined him standing before her as he'd
so often done in the past when she played. And she played
only for him.
She could see his smile, the way his wide mouth turned
up at the corners and a dimple appeared in his right cheek.
She could see his blue eyes sparkle and the way he pushed
his blond hair impatiently out of his eyes.
Mentally, she left the sweaty saloon and went back to the
immigrant ship, watching him charm the girls and laughing
with him on deck. She saw him lounging on the bed in their
room in New York, or pouring drinks in Heaney's, with a
host of Bowery whores batting their eyelashes at him.
It was some time before she realized that the noise in the
saloon had stopped, and she opened her eyes to see a
hundred or more men looking at her. Most were probably
about Sam's age, but they had that weatherbeaten look that
made them look far older. Some were in fancy suits, boiled
shirts, ties and homburgs, others in grubby shirtsleeves, with
braces holding up trousers that had seen better days and
broad-brimmed hats that could tell a few stories. There were
pale-faced Europeans, brown faces from South America,
black faces and Indians too. Some had untrimmed beards
and moustaches, others were clean-shaven. In amongst them
were a few women as well: a prettily plump one with a straw
hat trimmed with feathers, another with roses on hers;
women in silk and lace, others in plain cotton from the trail.
But regardless of who they were, whether they'd already
found gold or were helping someone who had, to spend it,
they were all listening to her play.

'Bravo!' a big man in a checked jacket called out as she
finished the first number. 'Don't stop now, give us more!'

It was after one when Beth picked her way through the mud
to get back to the tent. She was exhausted but satisfied that
she'd made her mark on Dawson, for Jack Smith had claimed
she was the finest fiddle player he'd ever heard.
She had no idea where Theo and Jack were. They'd been
in the Monte Carlo for the first hour she was playing, but
then left and hadn't returned. She hadn't minded, for while
she wasn't playing, there were plenty of people only too
happy to buy her a drink and keep her company.
The sky was as bright as day, and no one else appeared
even to be thinking of sleeping, for the muddy tracks between
tents and cabins were full of jostling people. Above
the sounds of thousands enjoying themselves down on
Front Street, laughter, chatter and clinking glasses, she could
hear thumping feet on a dance floor, the wheeze of a mechanical
organ, and a saxophone playing a plaintive ballad.

She'd been told Dawson City buzzed until eight in the
morning, and she supposed that was understandable in a
place where they were cut off from the Outside by snow
and ice from September till the end of May.
Tied around her waist was a leather bag which someone
had thrown at her, with a quantity of gold dust in it. She'd
added to it the small fortune in notes and coins that had
been collected for her. As she walked, it clonked against her
hip bone, making her smile witii satisfaction. Money and
success would never compensate for her brother's death, or
make her miss him any less, but tonight those black clouds
of grief had rolled back sufficiently to make her want to live
again.


40 t
A week later, at four in the morning, Beth was being walked
back to her tent along Front Street by Wilbur, one of the
bartenders at the Monte Carlo.
'Looks like there's a big game on at the Golden Horse
Shoe,' he said, indicating a crowd of people outside a saloon
up ahead. 'You can bet it's Mack Dundridge playing poker
in there. Folks always want to watch him play; when he's
winning everyone gets free drinks.'
Beth smiled up at Wilbur, for this tall, lanky young bartender
from Seattle was not only her regular escort home,
he always had tales to tell her about the larger than life
characters of Dawson City.
He'd told her about Mack Dundridge just the day before,
for Mack was one of the celebrated Eldorado Kings. He
had been drifting around Alaska and the Yukon for years
searching for gold, and he was close by when George
Carmack and Skookum Jim discovered it in Rabbit Creek.
Mack rushed there when he heard the news and staked a
claim that was soon to bring him a fortune. And Rabbit
Creek became known as Eldorado.
But like many of the old-timers who'd struck it rich, Mack
was feckless with his fortune. He would come into town
and sling his poke, a leather bag of gold nuggets, down on
the bar and treat everyone. It was said that one evening he
gave a dance-hall girl a gold nugget worth over five hundred
dollars so she'd only dance with him.
'Can we go in and watch?' Beth asked. While barely an
hour passed without her thinking about Sam, her popularity
at the Monte Carlo and the constant excitement and gaiety
in the town had lifted her spirits. She liked Wilbur and felt
safe in his company, and as Theo and Jack never got back
to the tent until at least seven in the morning, she saw no
reason why she shouldn't have a bit of fun too.

'As it's a big game they'll have someone on the door
stopping common folks getting in. But you ain't common
folks, so I guess I can use my powers of persuasion.' Wilbur
grinned.
He took her arm firmly and pushed his way through the
people around the door of the saloon who were trying
to peer through the door and windows to see the action
inside.
'You'll let the Klondike Gypsy in, won't you?' he said to
the burly man barring the way. 'She's got a mind to see the
high-rollers, and maybe she'll return the favour by playing
for you one night.'
The way the big man beamed down at her made Beth
realize that she'd already established a name for herself in
town and it made her feel good.
'You're welcome in the Golden Horse Shoe, Miss Gypsy,'
he said. 'But don't you go distracting the game with your
pretty face, or your fiddle.'
Despite the bright light on the street, inside the saloon it
was gloomy and impossible to see anything, for men stood
packed shoulder to shoulder, intently watching something
at the back of the place. But Wilbur took Beth's arm and
led her over to the side of the room where the crowd was
thinner.
He left her there to go and buy them both a drink.
Beth couldn't see the players beyond the thick wall of male
shoulders, but she could sense by the tension in the room
that something out of the ordinary was going on.
'Is Mack winning?' she whispered to a tall man she'd
found herself beside.
'He was, but he's lost the last couple of games,' he whispered
back. 'I reckon it might be one of the nights he throws
his claim in fer a stake.'

40?
Wilbur had told her that Mack had built his reputation as
a high-roller by going right to the edge, prepared to gamble
everything he had. It was said he lost half a million dollars
one night, but turned up again the following evening and
won it all back.
'Who's he playing with?' she whispered.
'The Swede, Dangle and a guy I ain't seen before,' the
whisper came back.
People gave everyone nicknames in Dawson; it appeared
to be a way of showing their acceptance of them. But as
Beth hadn't met either the Swede or Dangle, she felt she
must take a look at them, so she moved along to where
there was a pillar holding up the roof, wriggled round it and
elbowed the men there out of the way.
She gasped when she finally saw the players, for one of
them was Theo.
Above the table was an ornate oil lamp which created a
circle of golden light in the otherwise dark room. Just beyond
this circle and behind Theo she could make out Jack standing
against the wall watching the game, and she could see from
his stance that he was very nervous.
The three men Theo was playing with were typical Sourdoughs,
bearded, with untidy hair, rough clothes and weather
beaten faces. Clean-shaven Theo in his smart clothes and
polished boots looked incongruous, even though he wasn't
much younger than the others. He'd had some good wins
since they got to Dawson, but she was fairly certain he
hadn't won anything like enough to be playing for such high
stakes as this.
¦Which one is Mack Dundridge?' she whispered to the
man next to her.
'The gingery-haired fella,' he replied. 'No one can beat
him at poker, and he'll stay until he's wiped out the others.'

Beth slunk further back so Theo wouldn't spot her, and
watched him for just a moment or two longer. He looked
so casual and relaxed, almost lounging in his chair, the
light above accentuating his high cheekbones. But she had
enough knowledge of poker to know it was based on bluff,
so he could well be as nervous as Jack.
The tension in the room was growing tighter by the
second, and Beth knew she couldn't bear to witness Theo
being beaten.
'I've changed my mind. I don't want to stay,' she said,
meeting Wilbur as he came back across the saloon. She took
the drink from his hand and downed it in one. Will you
take me home now, please?'

The bright daylight always made it hard to sleep, but Beth
was so nervous she could barely manage to shut her eyes.
She had grown accustomed to Theo's losses over the last
year, but to her knowledge he'd never before gambled more
than he could afford to lose. It was different here: prospectors,
saloon owners, shop keepers and dancing girls -- they
were all basically gamblers. With fortunes casually changing
hands nightly, even the most level-headed person could
easily lose their grip on reality.
She must have been lying awake for a couple of hours
when she finally heard Theo and Jack approaching the tent.
They were stumbling as if they were very drunk and that
made her feel even angrier at them.
Theo stuck his face through the tent-door flap. 'Are you
awake, my sweetheart? he asked, grinning inanely.
'I am now,' she said sarcastically.

Theo withdrew his head and spoke to Jack. 'She's cross
with me,' he said. 'D'you think she'll be even crosser when
I tell her our news?'

'You'll have our neighbours cross with you if you wake
them up,' Beth said tersely. 'So come in here and be quiet.'
They came stumbling in and Jack flopped down beside
her. 'Sorry we're drunk. But we had to celebrate cos Theo's
won a building lot on Front Street.'
Beth sat bolt upright. 'He has?' She was astounded: a
building lot on Front Street cost around forty thousand
dollars.
'Sure thing, my darling,' Theo said, dropping down on
the other side of her. 'A knuckle-biting game with Mack
Dundridge. They said he couldn't be beat, but they were
wrong.'
Beth frowned. She didn't like it when Theo became boastful,
and it crossed her mind he might have cheated.
'Don't worry, Beth.' Jack grinned at her as if reading her
mind. 'He won it fair and square. And he had the sense to
stop once he'd twisted the bloke's arm to throw the building
lot in. Might have been a different story if it had been his
goldmine.'
'We're made now,' Theo chortled. "We can build our own
gambling saloon and we'll have rooms upstairs to live in.
We'll even give you the bathroom you've always wanted.'
They were too drunk to explain properly how it had come
about, but Beth understood enough to realize Theo had set
out with the intention of getting Mack to use the Front
Street lot as a stake.
'I reckoned he wouldn't care so much about that,' Theo
said smugly. 'If his goldmine was on the table, he'd have
kept me there playing till he won it back.'
'Theo played a blinder,' Jack said, his face alight with
awe. 'I thought he had a bad hand at the end; he was
sweating like a pig and looked shit scared. You could have
heard a pin drop when Mack asked to see him. I couldn't

even look. But he had four nines, Mack had four eights.
The whole place went wild. Even Mack said he'd met his
match.'

Beth lay down again and tried to go back to sleep when the
boys went outside to smoke their pipes, but the rise and
fall of their drunken, excited voices as they planned their
gambling saloon prevented her from sleeping.
She was thrilled, and had no doubt they would get it built.
Jack would see to that. She even felt it would lessen the
sorrow of losing Sam for all of them, for they would be
making his dream come true.
But getting what they had planned for so long, so easily,
just by the turn of a card, felt strange and unreal.

In the days that followed, as the boys started organizing the
building of their gambling saloon, Beth often reflected that
everything in the town was strange: sunshine that lasted
twenty-two hours a day, the mud that didn't dry up, the
false fronts of the saloons, and steamers arriving from Seattle
and San Francisco almost daily bringing champagne, oysters
and every other kind of luxury.
It seemed bizarre that they'd each been forced to haul a
ton of provisions over those mountains only to find no one
wanted or needed flour, sugar and rice. Even more bizarre
was that all these thousands of people who had hocked
everything they had to make the trip, risked their health and
sanity for the dream of riches, were doing nothing now to
find gold.
She and the boys had never intended to be prospectors.
But almost everyone else had. Yet as soon as they tied up
their boats, and they were six deep along the shore now,
these people just hung around in town, not even taking a

trip out to the creeks where gold had been found. It was as
if getting here was enough.
Beth could understand weariness, for the majority of
these people had spent a whole year getting here and they'd
been challenged in every conceivable way. Most had burned
all their bridges, walked out on jobs, homes, sometimes
wives and children, and blown all their money. They'd risked
their health, sanity and in some cases their lives. But surely
a couple of days' rest would revive them? Why were they
now trying to sell their kit to buy a ticket home on a steamer?
How could that lust for gold suddenly vanish? Or was it
that the gold had never been the real aim, only to have the
biggest adventure of all time?
It was said that there were approximately 18,000 people
now in Dawson, and another 5,000 out prospecting on the
surrounding creeks, making it almost as big a population as
Seattle. With no more room for tents or cabins, people were
now going across the river to a place generally known as
Louse Town.
Down on the shore a huge market place had sprung up.
Dogs, horses, sledges, and bags of flour, patched shirts,
worn-out axes, long winter underwear, mackinaws and high
sided boots were all for sale. People picked over them
endlessly, and to the disappointment of the sellers who
wanted to go home, their stuff was mostly rejected.
But each steamer spilled out many more hundreds of
people: dancing girls, actresses and whores, bank clerks,
doctors, even ministers. There were whole families, elegant
ladies with feathered hats, their husbands with wing collars
and tail coats, and small children. They too had mostly only
come to take a look, for they surely weren't intending to
pan for gold.
It was a mad, wild place, a city of runaways, some from

the law, or from nagging wives or brutal husbands, debt,
dull jobs or city slums. The morality and social status of the
Outside meant nothing here. Men took up with dance-hall
girls, a woman could drink in the saloons without a man
beside her, even the whores were treated with respect. You
could be anything you wanted here; where you came from
didn't matter. Those who'd struck lucky helped those who
had nothing. It was almost as if people shed their old skin
the moment they stepped off the boat, and grew another
more comfortable one.
Yet for now it suited Beth. For as long as she could play
her fiddle, she could forget all she had lost and that she had
no real place to call home.
The deep sadness at the core of her seemed to give her
music a new dimension and she'd found she was using it to
twist her audience's emotions. If one of her tunes reminded
them of an old lover, their mother, their children, they put
more money in the hat. She didn't feel this was exploiting
anyone; after all, the money she earned was passed on to
the woman who baked bread, the boy who sold eggs, and
the couple from Idaho who ran a diner. It would also take
her home one day to see Molly.

Late in the afternoon of 3 July, Beth was down on Front
Street watching as Jack and a couple of his hired men built
the facade of their saloon. The speed with which Jack had
gone to work on it was astounding. Within a week he had
the skeleton of the saloon up; by the end of the second the
roof was on and he was laying the floorboards on the first
floor. The long hours of daylight and the number of men
needing paid work helped. Now the building was close to
completion, with three rooms upstairs, a large room for the
saloon downstairs and a kitchen and storerooms out the back.

'It's looking good, Jack,' Beth called to him. 'But you aren't
going to work tomorrow, I hope? It's Independence Day.'
Despite the fact that Dawson City was in Canada, because
such a big majority of its residents were American there was
to be a big celebration with dancing, hog roasts and fireworks.
Beth had found a good seamstress and had a new
dress made with the pink silk she'd brought over the pass
with her.
Jack paused in his work and grinned at her. 'I guess one
day off won't kill me! Have you seen Theo today? I could
do with a hand.'
'He went to the post office,' Beth called back. 'You know
what that's like!'
Getting mail was a big problem in Dawson. It was brought
in and out on many boats, but was often dropped off by
mistake in Juneau, Haines or any of the little towns along
the Inner Passage. With so many thousands of people here,
the queues at the post office were so long it could take all
day to reach the front, and most came away disappointed that there were no letters for them. Beth hadn't bothered to
queue, for the only people who wrote to her were the
Langworthys, and even if they'd got the letter she'd written
in Lake Lindemann with the approximate date they'd
reach Dawson City, a reply could take a month or more
to reach her.
She had written again when she got here to tell them of
Sam's death, but that would still be on the steamer to Seattle.
Theo, however, had gone to join the long queue to send
his folks a telegram to let them know where he was. He
laughingly said that even if his father and older brother
didn't care, his mother and younger sisters would. Beth
privately thought his real motive was to boast he was doing
well, knowing word would reach all his old friends.

'If you see him, tell him I need him,' Jack said. 'He's a
lazy devil, never around except when it suits him.'
Beth made no comment. Theo wasn't pulling his weight,
but then he never had. He seemed to think that winning the
building lot and handing over the money for the lumber and
other materials was enough. Jack had to handle everything,
from building the saloon to buying the timber and hauling
it here. At night Theo rarely came into the Monte Carlo to
hear Beth play, she often had to eat alone, and he seldom
came back to the tent before seven or eight in the morning,
then slept all day. Sometimes she wondered if he valued her
at all.
She decided to walk down to the post office and check
how far up the queue he'd got. But as she took the turn off
Front Street, she saw him coming towards her through the
crowd. She waved, and as he saw her his face broke into a
wide smile.
Despite having become a little disenchanted with his
character, hardly a day went past without Beth thinking how
handsome he was. Even back in the winter, bundled up in
a heavy coat, with a hat and a muffler and a thick beard
covering half his face, his dark, expressive eyes could still
make her heart flutter.
He had somehow achieved the image of the perfect English
gendeman even here in this rough-and-ready town. He
had shaved off his beard back on the river, and one of his
first priorities when they arrived here was to get his hair cut.
Wearing a fawn linen jacket, a red cravat at the neck of his
shirt and a Panama hat, he could have been on his way to
Ascot. Only the mud on his brown leather riding boots
spoiled the image, something he groused about almost daily
as he cleaned them.
'You've got a letter,' he called out as they drew closer,

and he took the envelope from his pocket and waved it at
her. 'They weren't going to let me have it as it's addressed
to Miss and Mr Bolton, but when I told them that was
Gypsy of the Monte Carlo's maiden name, they gave in.'
Beth laughed. 'It's from the Langworthys,' she said, recognizing
the handwriting even from a distance, and she rushed
forward the last few feet to grab it from him. 'They surely
hadn't got my letter from Lake Lindemann already?'
'Dawson City's in the news everywhere in the world,'
Theo said. 'I guess they decided to write here knowing you'd
get here eventually.'
'It looks as if it's been in the wet,' Beth said, for the
envelope was stained and the ink smeared.
'Some of the mail was so badly soaked the envelopes
are unreadable or missing,' Theo said. 'There were lots of
disappointed people today, but you're a lucky one.'
Beth tore it open, unable to wait till later. 'My dear Beth and Sam,' she read. 'There isn't any way to give you this terrible
news, except straight out.'
A cold shudder ran down Beth's spine, but she had to
read on.

So please forgive my bluntness when I tell you our precious little
Molly died of pneumonia, ten days ago on 7 March. She had a bad
chesty cold in February and despite everything we and the doctor did,
all the medicine and care, it turned to pneumonia. She died in her
sleep while I was sitting with her.
Edward and I are bereft. We loved her so much, and everything is
so bleak and cold without her. But my heart goes out to you and
Sam so far away too, for we know this will be a tremendous shock to
you as it has been for everyone who loved her. Please believe we did
everything we could for her. Her funeral was a week after her death
on the 14-th, a beautiful moving service at St Brides . . . Edward,

Mrs Bruce, Cook and Kathleen all send their condolences, and we
sincerely hope this letter will find its way to you. We always read
everything in the papers about the Klondike, wondering if you got
there safely. You are in our thoughts and prayers, please come to see
us when you return to England. And Edward and I wish to thank
you for all the past joy you gave us by leaving Molly in our care. She
may have only had just four short years with us, but they have been
the happiest times we've known.
Thinking of you at this saddest of times
Ruth Langworthy

'What is it, Beth?' Theo asked, shocked by her stricken
face.
'Molly's dead,' she replied in hushed, anguished tones,
looking at him beseechingly. 'She died of pneumonia.'
Chapter Thirty-one

'I know it's terribly sad to hear of a child dying, Beth, but
you've got to pull yourself together,' Theo said, a sharp
undercurrent to his voice.
'She wasn't just any child, she was my sister,' Beth retorted,
breaking into fresh tears. 'First Sam, now Molly. I've
got no one left.'
A week had passed since she received the shattering letter.
Theo had been kind and comforting then, yet the day after,
Independence Day, he left her crying in the tent and joined
everyone else in Dawson for the celebrations.
Jack came back to the tent in the early evening, having
run into Theo in a saloon and realized he'd left her all alone.
'I expect he just doesn't know what more he can say to
comfort you,' he said in Theo's defence. 'I don't either,
Beth, I just knew you shouldn't be alone.'

'Why is it that you know that and he doesn't?' she asked
Jack bitterly. 'It wasn't your baby I lost, it was his. He
promised me up on the Chilkoot Pass that he loved me and
wanted to get married; he knows how hard Sam's death hit
me, so surely if he really loved me he could put himself in
my shoes now and understand?'
'Oh, Beth, you've had so much sadness.' Jack sighed and sat down beside her, holding her. 'Right from when you
first told me about Molly on the ship, I could see how low
you felt about leaving her behind. But you did do the right
thing for her. Look at all the hardships we all had in New
York. You wouldn't have wanted to put her through that?'

'But I keep thinking if she'd been with me she wouldn't
have died.'
Jack stroked her hair back from her face and mopped her
eyes. 'She would've been even more likely to have caught
something nasty. At least she had four happy years, in a
loving, caring home. It's tragic that she died, a terrible thing,
and all I can offer you is a shoulder to cry on.'
He listened patiently as she sobbed out all her sadness,
for Molly, Sam's death and losing her baby and being told
she'd never have another. 'It's like I'm jinxed,' she said.
'What have I ever done that was so bad I had to have all
this thrown at me?'
Jack couldn't find an answer to that, but he stayed all
evening and held her, letting her spill out all her grief. When
it grew darker, thousands of fireworks were let off and they
stood outside the tent watching them together. But the fierce
noise from the fireworks wasn't enough for the revellers in
the town; they fired rifles and made huge explosions with
dynamite, too. The town dogs were so frightened they swam
across the Yukon to Louse Town in one long streak to
escape.
Beth hated everyone for celebrating while she was so
desperately unhappy, and she wouldn't even allow Jack to
persuade her to put on a pretty dress and go and play at the
Monte Carlo. 'I'll never play again,' she vowed.

Since Independence Day, Beth had hardly set foot outside
the tent, preferring to lie there feeling bitter and hurt. Jack
and Theo had been working long hours on the saloon, and
although Jack had tried many times to persuade her to come
down and see how the work was progressing, or to go back
to the Monte Carlo to play, Theo had said little on the
subject until today.

4'i
'You have got someone left, there's Jack and me,' Theo
said wearily. 'The saloon is finished, so we can move in
tomorrow. But you haven't even been to see it.'
'I don't care about it. I don't care about anything,' Beth
sobbed. 'I left Molly with the Langworthys because I
thought she'd have a good life with them, but she still
got sick and died. Maybe if I'd stayed with her she'd be
alive now.'
'It's foolish to say such things,' Theo replied, his voice
softening. He sat down beside her on the floor of the tent
and wiped her tears from her face with his handkerchief. 'It
was fate, just as Sam's death was too. I don't believe we can
change our destiny, whatever we do. But you can't stay here
moping for ever, that won't make it better. If you put your
energy into turning our new place into a home, it will take
your mind off Molly. So come with me now and look around.
Jack was going to put the name up today. We've decided to
call it the Golden Nugget.'
Beth was tempted to refuse, but in her heart she
knew everything he'd said was right, and staying in the tent
wallowing in grief wasn't going to make anything better.
So reluctantly she got up, found a comb and ran it through
her hair.
Theo patted her on the shoulder in approval. 'You can
have a bath tonight if you want. Jack managed to get the
boiler going. Imagine that, sweetheart, a real bath, we'll be
the envy of everyone else in town. That is, if you don't run
out on us and take the steamer back to Vancouver at the
end of August.'
'Why would I do that?' she said. 'There's nothing for me
there.'
Realizing that sounded self-pitying, she blushed. 'We've
got the gambling saloon we wanted, and I'm glad about

that,' she continued. 'Just be patient with me a little longer.
Two deaths in such a short time are more than anyone could
bear.'
- 'I know, darling,' he said, enfolding her in his arms. 'But
you must play on opening night, everyone's expecting it.'
Beth washed her face and walked with Theo to the new
place. It seemed many people had heard about her loss,
for they stopped her and said how sorry they were. She
hadn't expected that, and it helped to know people cared
about her.
Jack had just finished putting up the sign as they
approached the new place. He shinned down the ladder and
hugged her.
'What d'you think?' he asked.
Beth stepped back into the street to look properly. When
she'd last seen it the facade was only half done, and raw
timber at that. The wood was painted red and shiny now,
with a black sign bearing the words 'The Golden Nugget'
painted in gold.
'It looks marvellous,' she said, and smiled for the first
time since she'd received the news of Molly's death. 'You
are a miracle worker, Jack.'
He glowed at the praise. 'I had a lot of help,' he said
quickly. 'Now, come and look inside.'
Beth had grown accustomed to the tricks used to create
a sense of permanence and luxury in saloons since her
time in Skagway. False facades led into the most flimsy of
buildings, often tents, and even those that were built of
wood had only canvas tacked on to the timber posts to
make interior walls.
But Jack had lined the wood walls with another layer of
timber, making it warm and windproof, and he'd painted
them the same red as outside.

4'7
But even more astounding was the picture painted on the
side wall opposite the bar. It was of the Chilkoot Pass,
complete with the endless winding ribbon of climbers
against the snow.
'Who did that?' she asked.
'Enrico, that little bloke from San Francisco I helped with
his boat at Lake Bennett.'
Beth nodded. She remembered the small, dark-haired
man who she had thought was a Mexican. 'It's fantastic,'
she said. 'It really sets the whole place off. But the bar is
marvellous too, Jack, you are so clever.'
It was first-class timber, planed and varnished to a gleaming
finish. She ran her hand along it admiringly.
'I've got to put another coat of varnish on the floor
tonight, then we can get the furniture in tomorrow morning,'
Jack said. 'It's all piled up out the back.'
Beth looked at the big mirror behind the bar and noticed
it was covered in fingerprints and smears. 'I'd better polish
that,' she said.
Jack and Theo grinned at each other. 'What's so funny?'
she asked.
'We left it like that purposely. We thought it would stir
you into action,' Jack said.
Beth smiled. 'You'd better show me upstairs, I expect
some action will be required there too.'
Jack hadn't had time to do anything much upstairs. Just
three rooms with bare, rough timber walls and floors, but
after living in a tent it would be luxury to all of them. As
for the bathroom, she could hardly believe that Jack had
been clever enough to run pipes from the boiler downstairs
to fill the tub with hot water.
'I had a lot of help from an engineer,' he said modestly.
'But there was no possibility of putting in a lavatory as there


418
I
are no sewers in the town yet. So we're stuck with an outside
privy until there are.'

Front Street was the main artery of Dawson City. It pulsated
with people all round the clock. By day it was like a gigantic
market where you could buy anything from medicine to a
horse or dog and every kind of foodstuff and luxury item
brought in by traders. By night it was a rip-roaring hedonistic
paradise, where you could drink, gamble, see a show or just
parade up and down watching others if you were broke.
Even on Sundays when the law stated that nothing should
open, and this was rigorously enforced by the Mounted
Police, people still thronged up and down. All the most
popular saloons, dance halls and theatres were in Front
Street and they vied with one another to be the best. They
wanted the prettiest dance-hall girls, the highest stakes in a
poker game or the best singers and entertainers.
Although Beth, Theo and Jack had only been in Dawson
a short while, they had an advantage over other new arrivals
setting up in business because they had already attracted
enough attention in town to be given nicknames. People
liked nicknames here; Lime-juice Lil, Two-step Louie, Billy
the Horse and Deep-hole Johnson were just some they'd
heard. Theo's English gentleman image and his reputation
as a good poker player landed him with 'The Gent'. Jack
was affectionately called 'Cockney Jack' and widely regarded
as the man to talk to if you wanted to build anything. Beth
was still called 'Gypsy', for the name had come with her on
the trail, and at the Monte Carlo she'd been billed as 'The
Klondike Gypsy Queen'.
Yet when they opened the saloon doors for the first time
at six in the evening, they were still very anxious. Most of
the other places on Front Street were owned by Eldorado

Kings, men with claims that had netted them fortunes,
and they could afford to splash out on chandeliers, velvet
carpets, a five-piece band and a host of girls to lure big
spenders in. But Theo's money had run out, and he owed a
couple of thousand dollars for drink, timber and the tables
and chairs.
He had hung a sign outside proclaiming half-price drinks,
and they had to hope that that, and Beth playing, would be
enough. Theo was wearing a white tuxedo he'd accepted in
settlement of a gambling debt back at Lake Bennett. With a
frilled shirt and bow tie and his dark hair shiny with oil, he
looked the image of a successful saloon owner. Jack sported
a red waistcoat, a red and white spotted bow tie and a straw
boater.
Beth had put on the new pink dress she'd planned to
wear on Independence Day. She'd lost weight because she'd
barely eaten anything since she got the letter about Molly,
and she looked so peaky she'd even resorted to rouge on
her cheeks.
She began to play a jig as soon as six men walked up to
the bar.
They'd hired Will and Herbert, two men from Pordand
they'd got to know at Lake Bennett. They were desperate to
raise the cash to get a boat home, and Theo had promised
if they worked for two weeks for him, he'd buy their tickets
and give them fifty dollars each too.
By the time Beth was on the third number, a goodly
crowd had come in, and all at once she felt exhilarated
because she was pulling people in to spend money in their place. She hoped Sam was looking down on them, thrilled
that they'd finally reached their goal.
As the evening progressed, more and more people came
in, until they were jammed up like tinned sardines. Theo

was running a game of faro, a favourite in Dawson because
it was fast, and gave the players a fighting chance.
Theo had bought the faro table from a steamship owner
who was short of cash. Every card from ace to king was
painted on it, and the players laid their chips on the card
they wanted to bet on. The dealer lifted the top card off the
deck; if the one beneath was one someone was betting on,
he lost, but if it came up second, he won. If neither, he bet
again.
On the wall behind Theo there was a rack which held the
players' pokes. Into the rack went a slip of paper charging
the owner for the chips he bought. At the end of play, chips
were balanced against slips, and the player's poke was increased
or decreased, according to whether he'd won or lost.
Gold, dust or nuggets, was the main currency in Dawson,
and every shop, saloon or other business had scales to weigh
it out. When Beth and the boys first got to Dawson they
were all astounded by the casual way men tossed pokes
containing hundreds of dollars worth of gold around, but
they were used to it now.
While Theo was dealing at the faro table, Jack greeted
customers, keeping an eye on the bar and on Will and
Herbert. Later, Jack would take over at faro, leaving Theo
to begin a poker game, and in between her fiddle sessions,
Beth would keep her eye on things.
It was soon clear that they would require several more
staff, just as they would need more supplies of drink and
another entertainer to keep things going all night. But that
first night they muddled through, all working flat out. The
whisky ran out at four in the morning, but most of the
customers stayed and drank anything available. Theo had a
huge smile on his face because Sam Bonnifield, known as
'Silent Sam', the owner of the Bank Saloon and Gambling

House on the corner of Front and King Streets, had come
in to play faro. He got his nickname because he never said
a word or smiled as he played. His luck was not in tonight and
he was five hundred dollars down, yet he kept on playing.
At six in the morning, Theo finally closed the doors. He
was too tired to count what they'd taken that night, but he
reckoned it was close on 15,000 dollars. Enough to pay off
the debts, restock with drink and get some furniture upstairs.
'Later today I'll buy you a big brass bed with a feather
mattress,' he said as he embraced Beth. 'I promise you that
you'll never sleep on the ground ever again.'

The Golden Nugget soon became established as one of the
most popular gambling saloons in Dawson. Theo used his
charms to lure four girls to work there, paying them a small
commission for every glass of champagne they managed to
persuade men to buy for them. It wasn't real champagne,
but then very few people in Dawson knew what the real
stuff tasted like. The girls added colour to the place as they
teased and flirted with the men, and if they sold their bodies
later to the highest bidder, no one was concerned.

Paradise Alley, behind Front Street, was where the real
whores did their business, in a row of tents called cribs, each
with her name above the door. They were mostly plain,
sturdy women, for the difficult journey across the mountains
to get here ruled out the delicate. They serviced around fifty
men a day and their pimps took most of their earnings, and
to Beth they had the worst life she could imagine.
But then, women generally had a poor deal in Dawson.
They baked bread, did laundry and cooked in restaurants,
and though some of them made an excellent living, they had
to work incredibly hard, and often had men who spent it as
fast as they earned it. Those who were married to miners

spent their days panning for gold in remote creeks, living in
terrible conditions with no other female company.
Only a small percentage of women lived the high life, and
they were the actresses, singers and dance-hall girls. Most
of the dance-hall girls took far more from men than they
gave. For a dollar, a man got less than a minute with them
in his arms before they moved on to their next partner.
One girl had a belt made with seventeen twenty-dollar gold
pieces, a present from a miner. Almost all the girls made no
secret of the fact that they were there to separate the men from their pokes.
Beth worked too hard and for too long hours to live the
high life, but she didn't mind, for it stopped her dwelling
on Sam and Molly. True to his word, Theo had bought
furniture for their rooms upstairs, including the promised
brass bed and carpets too. Every night in the saloon was
fun, and to see it becoming such a big success gave her great
satisfaction.
When sad thoughts came into her mind, she reminded
herself she was living her dream. It wasn't hard to be happy
in Dawson; people were warm and friendly, and never a day
passed without someone doing something outrageous that
made them all laugh. She might feel a little disappointed that
she and Theo had so little time together alone, but as August
arrived and the cold weather and dark days grew imminent,
many people began departing on the boats for the Outside,
and she knew their time alone would come.
She knew, too, that she had forged herself a place in
Dawson's folklore. There were many fiddle players in town,
but no one as good as she, and they were all men. She was
also considered the prettiest girl in Dawson, something Theo
and Jack took great pride in.
People in Dawson liked stories, and there were enough

42 3
bandied around about the Eldorado Kings, the fortunes
they'd won and lost at gambling tables, and all the lesser
characters, to fill several books. It didn't surprise her one
bit when she found people were embellishing tales of her,
Theo and Jack. One night in the saloon, she overheard
one man telling another that Theo had carried her on his
shoulders up the Chilkoot Pass. Then he went on to describe
how Sam died in Squaw Rapids, as if he'd been standing
there while it happened.
Yet what intrigued people most, it seemed, was her
relationship with Theo and Jack, for word had got around
that she wasn't married to Theo.
She was well aware that many of the dance-hall girls
had their eyes on him. She couldn't blame them -- he was
handsome, charismatic and rich now too, for they were
making money hand over fist. It made Beth smile when they
came slinking into the Golden Nugget in their best finery,
flirted with him and tried to lure him away to whatever
dance hall they worked in. She knew Theo well enough to
be fairly certain that if he was to be lured away by another
woman, it wouldn't be a mere dance-hall girl.
One rainy evening in early August a man came into the
Golden Nugget who not only had a story to tell but was to
start a chain of events that would alter everything for Beth.
She was playing her fiddle as he walked in, a tall man in
a mackinaw and a broad-brimmed hat who looked slightly
familiar, but the saloon was too dark and smoky to see him¦
clearly.I
As always, she played for around half an hour before
having a short break, and as she went up to the bar to get a
drink, the man caught hold of her arm.
'Howdy, Miss Gypsy,' he said. 'I was hoping I'd run into
you.'

Looking up into his face, Beth recognized him as Moss
Atkins, one of Soapy's henchmen from Skagway. He had
often come into Clancy's when she was there, and though
she hadn't ever spoken to him, he had a reputation for being
vicious. He also had the kind of face she couldn't fail to
notice, for his eyes were a brilliant blue and he had pockmarks
on his cheeks.
'Hello, Moss,' she said. 'Good to see you again. Have you
just arrived?'
'It's been a few days now, just asking myself whether it
would be smarter to push off before the river freezes, or to
stay for the winter and do some business here.'
'I think you'd do better in Skagway,' she said with a
smile. 'The Mounties are very vigilant here. No guns, no
skulduggery. If they catch you putting a foot out of line
they'll give you up to ninety days on the woodpile.'
It was said that few people caught out in a crime cared
much about the fine given to them -- they could usually
afford it. But the punishment of being forced to chop wood
for the town council did act as a deterrent. It was boring,
back-breaking work, and most high-tailed out of town rather
than do it.
Well, maybe I'd best skidaddle,' he said, giving a
humourless chuckle. 'But to where I don't know. Skagway's
lost its way since Soapy was gunned down.'
'Soapy's dead!' Beth exclaimed.
Maybe if she hadn't been so surprised, she might have
realized people were listening to their conversation. But she
was so keen to hear how it came about that it never occurred
to her it would be wise to be more discreet.
'You ain't heard? It was back on 8 July. Shot down by
Frank Reid on the dock.'
'But why?' she asked, as she recalled Frank Reid was an

innocuous sort of man who was more interested in town
planning than fighting.
Moss launched into the story of how a prospector called
J. D. Stewart had come back to Skagway from the Yukon
with 2,800 dollars in gold dust. It was stolen, and the general
view was that it was by one of Soapy's men. The Skagway
traders were afraid that if word got around that it wasn't
safe for anyone with gold to leve from their town, all
prospectors would take the sea route and bypass it, robbing
them of lucrative business. Demands were made that Soapy
was to give Stewart back his gold immediately, and the
townsfolk began to turn against him.
'The upshot of it was that Soapy started drinking, got his
dander up and went off down to the docks with a derringer
in his sleeve, a .45 Colt in his pocket and a Winchester rifle
slung over his shoulder,' Moss told her. 'Frank Reid was
down there, and told Soapy not to go any further. Soapy
put his rifle to Reid's head. Reid seized the muzzle with his
left hand and reached for his own six-gun in his belt with
the other. He fired, but the cartridge was faulty, and instantaneously
Soapy fired his rifle, shooting Reid in the groin.
But Reid fired his six-gun again; this time he shot Soapy
right through the heart. He died instantly.'
Beth gasped, as did others within earshot, for everyone
in Dawson had heard about 'Soapy' Jefferson Smith, even if
they hadn't actually gone through Skagway on the way here.
People around them started asking Moss questions, and
he was clearly delighted to be the one to bring the news of
this to Dawson and find himself the centre of attention.
'Yeah, Reid died too, but a slow, lingering death. At least
Soapy's was quick.'
Both Theo and Jack came closer, as interested as anyone
else in such a big story. Moss continued to hold forth, saying

I

that many of Soapy's men had taken to the trails and the
mountains to avoid being captured by the gang of vigilantes
who had lynching on their mind.
'Maybe it's a good thing you left Soapy when you did,' he
suddenly said to Beth. 'He told me you was his girl, but I
guess it must've been hard for you to swallow all his badness.
Especially when he had that other fella of yourn shot.'
Beth's stomach lurched, and she saw Theo's face had
stiffened. 'There was nothing between Soapy and me,' she
said. 'And I'm sure it wasn't him who had Theo shot, you've
got that all wrong.'
Moss laughed scornfully. 'I ain't got nothing wrong, babe,
I was with Soapy when he ordered the shooting. "Take out
the English guy," was what he said, "I've got plans for his
lady." I saw you dozens of times with him, too, so if that
don't mean there was something between you, then I'm a
Dutchman.'
Jack intervened at that point, suggesting it was time Beth
played again. Moss left the saloon soon after.
The following day was Saturday, and as they'd slept late,
they had to rush to open the saloon at midday. Beth was
aware Theo was being a bit cool with her, but they were so
busy there was no time to bring it out into the open.
On Sunday they didn't wake until mid-afternoon, but
when Beth snuggled up close to Theo, expecting that they
would make love as they usually did, he got up and began dressing.
'Where are you going?' she asked.
'I've got stuff to do,' he said curtly.
After he'd gone out, Beth stood at the window, looking
out across Front Street on to the river, and she could feel
winter drawing close. The trees on the mountains were all
evergreen so there was no autumnal colour like back in

England, America and Montreal. She'd been told that the
temperature could reach 50 degrees below freezing here in
the winter months, and she shivered at the thought of it
Four hours later, Theo still hadn't come back. Beth had
spent the time catching up on little jobs, stitching up the
hem of one of her dresses, doing some washing and writing
a letter to the Langworthys. Outside it was still raining
heavily, and she couldn't imagine where Theo could have
gone as nothing was open.
She and Jack made a meal down in the kitchen later, and
stayed down there afterwards as it was warm by the stove.
'He's angry about what Moss said,' Beth blurted out later.
'But I don't understand why he'd take it out on me. After
all, he was the one that went off with that whore in the Red
Onion, and I took care of him after he was shot.'
'I wouldn't take the word of anyone who worked for
Soapy Smith,' Jack said. 'And I'd be surprised if Theo did.
But the word was all over town by last night, and several
people made jokes about it to him. I suppose he's smarting
a bit.'

Theo didn't come home that night. He turned up at midday
on Monday to open the saloon but offered no explanation
as to where he'd been. As he didn't seem to be brooding on
anything and was just a little quiet, Beth let it go and went
out to do some shopping.
She was gone a couple of hours and as she was walking
back to the Golden Nugget, she heard the now very familiar
sound of a steam horn on a departing boat. As she turned
into Front Street, a large crowd were gathered to wave
goodbye, and she waved too, as was the custom if you were
nearby.

When Beth got back, Jack said Theo had gone to the bank
with the takings. An hour passed, then another, and still he
hadn't returned.
'He'll be having a game of poker somewhere. Let's just
hope he took the takings to the bank first,' Jack said
laughingly.
It was just after seven when Will Donahue, better known
as 'One Eye' on account of having a glass eye, came in. He
was a regular at the Golden Nugget, even though he owned
a similar establishment on King Street. Beth thought the
rotund, red-faced man from Kansas coarse and over
familiar, but Jack and Theo found him amusing and claimed
he was a man's man.
'I want you up there playing, my girl,' Will said to Beth,
pointing to the little stand she usually played from. 'We
won't get any punters in without some music'

'Since when did you give the orders around here?' she
asked lightly, assuming it was his idea of a little joke.
'Since two o'clock this afternoon when I bought the
place,' he said.
Chapter Thirty-two

'Where are Jack and I going to sleep?' Beth asked One Eye
indignantly the following day. She was livid as she'd just
overheard him telling Dolores and Mary, two of the saloon
girls, that they could move in upstairs.
'I won't be taking your room unless you keep giving me
lip,' he said. He was half turned away from her, his one good
eye looking in her direction but the glass one staring sightlessly
ahead. 'Jack will have to move down to the kitchen, though,
as I've promised his room to another couple of girls.'
Beth felt she might explode, but she didn't dare for fear
he'd boot her and Jack out. 'This isn't right, Mr Donahue,'
she pleaded. 'Jack built this place and it's our home. Don't
do this to us! It's been enough of a shock that Theo sold
the place to you without a word to us.'

The previous day, she and Jack had thought at first that One
Eye was pulling their leg by saying he'd bought the saloon.
He was known as something of a joker, and every time he'd
come into the Golden Nugget in the past wearing a loud
checked suit and stetson hat decorated with feathers, he'd
said something outrageous. He was prone to splashing his
money around too, and though they'd thought him a fool,
they'd seen him as a harmless one.
But to their shock and dismay, he pulled out a legal
document drawn up by a lawyer here in Dawson, and signed
by Theo, proving he had bought the place, lock, stock and
barrel, for 80,000 dollars.

They had found it astounding that Theo had been ruthless
enough to clinch this deal on Sunday, but so cowardly that
he stayed out all night so he didn't have to face them. Yet
he'd had the nerve to return on Monday after he'd signed
the document and cashed the banker's draft, and coolly pick
up the takings and secretly pack a few of his things. He'd
even spoken jovially to Jack, reminding him they needed
more supplies of whisky, then calmly left to catch the
steamer - ironically, the very one Beth had waved at.
Jack was incandescent with rage; Theo wouldn't have got
the saloon built but for him. But the glint of tears in his
eyes suggested that the thing which hurt most was that he'd
thought he and Theo were like brothers, and he couldn't
believe he'd betray him.
Beth saw the utter treachery of it. She would have stood
by Theo whatever life threw at him, even if he'd lost the
saloon in a poker game. Maybe their affair had grown cooler
of late, but she still loved him and thought that love was
returned. But to find he could just walk away from her, after
all they'd been through and been to each other, that he cared
more for money than her, was simply devastating.
There was no legal recourse, however. Theo had owned
the land, and no agreement had ever been drawn up to give
his partners a share in the business, even though he'd always
said this was what he intended. If One Eye chose to throw
her and Jack out on the streets he could legally do so.
To add insult to injury, they now had to be grateful he
was prepared to keep them on in his employ and give them
a roof over their heads.
Since the Golden Nugget opened, they hadn't even had
proper wages, and Jack had never been paid for the building
work. All they'd had was a few dollars here and there when
they needed something, foolishly trusting that the money

4i
going into the saloon account belonged to all of them, just
as they'd shared everything in the past.

One Eye looked at Beth with cold calculation. He didn't
like the hurt and anger in her eyes; wronged women were
invariably trouble. But he had to find some way of appeasing
her, for he knew only too well that she was the Golden
Nugget's real attraction. In truth, he wouldn't have wanted
the place if not for her. Smart dealers, dancing girls, skilled
barmen were all as common as drunks. But pretty fiddle
players were as rare as a domesticated grizzly bear.
He knew he must string her along for another week or
so till the river froze, then she'd have no choice but to stay
all winter. And if he could get rid of Cockney Jack without
putting her back up, maybe she'd even end up in his bed.
'Look, my little Gypsy Queen,' he said in honeyed tones.
'I feel bad your man ran out on you; he was a louse to do
that to you. But I've paid top dollar for this place and now
I've got to make it work for me. So I've gotta let those two
rooms. But I tell you what, I'll pass the hat round when you
play, and you can keep whatever they put in it. How's that?'
Beth felt too numb to protest any further. It wouldn't
feel like her home without Theo anyway, so she supposed
it didn't matter if there were going to be four girls living in it.
As always, playing her fiddle that evening soothed her.
Maybe she didn't make anyone want to get up and dance -- in fact her mournful tunes brought tears to the eyes of some
of her audience. But when the hat had been passed round
and come back to her, she counted up over thirty-five
dollars, confirmation that she had a unique talent which
would ensure she'd never starve.
It was a quiet night, and One Eye let them close up at
one o'clock for there were few people around. The girls

weren't moving in until tomorrow, so Jack grabbed a bottle
of whisky and said they should drown their sorrows.

'I bet Theo cooked up this deal with One Eye some time
ago, but didn't have the brass neck to go through with it
then,' Jack said a little later as they sat up at either end of
Beth's bed, drinking, the comforter over their legs. 'Then
when he heard that gee2er talking about Soapy Smith and
you, he saw it as the perfect way out, without him looking
like a complete cad.'
'But that means he must have stopped caring about me
ages ago,' Beth said brokenly, yet more tears threatening to
flow. 'Why couldn't he have admitted it?'
'I doubt it was that. He was a gambler through and
through,' Jack reminded her. 'I'd bet all he thought about
was the money he'd have in his hand. All in all it must have
been over eighty thousand with the takings and whatever
was in the bank. That would set him up for a lot of big
poker games. Or maybe he just saw that money as one huge win, and felt he had to quit while he was ahead.'
'But I've been with him through thick and thin. He said
he loved me and he knew I would have gone anywhere with
him. So why didn't he want to take me with him?'
'I don't know, Beth.'Jack shook his head in bewilderment.
'But look back at how things have been since we left Philadelphia.
Sam and I always carried him. Granted, he did share
when he had a win, but without us he would never have got
across Canada, let alone reached here. Maybe he realized
that, and it made him uncomfortable. Taking off with the
loot might have made him feel free.'
'To find some society woman who won't embarrass him,'
she said bitterly. 'Look what he was like in Montreal, always
looking out for nobs to socialize with. He didn't care that

I had to work in a factory and live in a hovel. I bet he was
delighted when I lost our baby and the doctor said I couldn't
have any more. That way he had no responsibilities. What a
fool I've been!'
Jack reached out and took her hand, squeezing it in
sympathy. But he didn't protest and say she was wrong.
'Well, I really hope he loses all that money in his next
game,' she said viciously. 'When he's down in the gutter
with nothing I hope he'll come crawling back to me. Then
I'll kick him in the face.'
They drank silendy for some little while, both deep in
bitter thoughts.
Was there something between you and Soapy?'Jack asked
later. T know you did spend a night with him, but was there
more to it than that?'
'No, but there could have been.' She sighed, then told
Jack about how she'd met Soapy and had a drink with him
on the last day in Skagway, and that it was he who took her
down to Dyea later on his horse. 'I liked him a lot, but as it
turned out it was a very good job I didn't pick him. There
wasn't that much difference between him and Theo, was
there? Do you think it was true Soapy ordered someone to
kill him?'
'I think it might have been, but I doubt it was over you.
I expect Theo stepped out of line. They were two of a kind,
both cheats. I don't mean just at cards or with women, but
in everything. They used their charm to get people in their
thrall, just so they could take advantage of them. Theo
suckered me, that's for sure, and what sticks in my craw is
that I would have died for him.'

By mid-October, Dawson was a great deal quieter. Snow
had fallen and the Yukon was frozen solid, used only by

I







434
I
dog teams hauling supplies out to the goldmines or bringing
in wood for fires.
The stampeders who'd arrived in June and wandered
through the mud like lost souls had mostly gone home while
it was still possible to get to the Outside. With no more
boats bringing people in or taking them away, the shore was
deserted. Smoke from a thousand chimneys rose up to create
a grey fog before an even greyer sky.
The lower slopes of the mountains that surrounded
Dawson were denuded of trees, the black stumps left behind
like so many rotten teeth, and sickness lurked among the
many people still living in tattered tents. The town was built
on swampland, and all through the hot summer, with no
proper drainage or sanitation, diseases like typhoid, dysentery
and malaria took their toll. Scurvy was on the increase
too, as were pneumonia and chest complaints.
The Front Street residents were mostly unaware of or
uninterested in the plight of the poorer citizens for they
could afford to keep their boilers, fires and stoves blazing
away, their privies emptied and their larders full. Electricity
had arrived, so had the telephone, and for those with
adequate means, Dawson was as gay and colourful as Paris,
even if it was bitterly cold.
Beth found she couldn't ignore the plight of the poor and
sick. Every day she made a large pot of soup and took it on
a sledge up to Father William Judge, the frail and bony priest
who ran a little hospital under the hill at the north end of
Dawson.
To her mind, Father Judge was a saint. He worked tirelessly
from early morning till late at night, wearing nothing
but a ragged cassock despite the extreme cold. Beth suspected
his nurses were not so pure, and stole from the
patients while they lay dying, so she'd stay until she saw the

sick drink the soup, to be certain it wasn't being spirited
away and sold somewhere else at a profit.
Jack was also becoming increasingly disillusioned about
the way things worked in Dawson. Most people toadied to
the rich and admired their flamboyant displays of their
wealth, while doing their best to make sure some of it came
their way. He found it offensive that many of the very richest
people in town cheated the poor, paying them a pittance to
do their laundry, chop their wood and other menial tasks.
When One Eye ordered him to throw people out of the
saloon who sat in the warm nursing one drink for long
periods, Jack refused. He knew some of these men would
die of cold in their tents and unheated cabins, and it was his
view that One Eye should show some Christian charity.
There had been many spats between the two men, for
One Eye showed no respect for Jack's honesty or his
humanity.
'I've got to leave,' Jack finally announced to Beth one
night in November after the bar was closed. 'If I don't, one
of these days I'll lose my temper and attack One Eye. He's
watering down the spirits, he's turned the girls into whores
and takes most of the money they make, and I think he's1
got the games rigged. I can't stand by and be part of it any
more.'
Beth had been horrified too when the four saloon girls
began slipping off upstairs during the evening with men, for
though none of them had been innocents when Theo took
them on, they hadn't been whores. Dolores had confided in
her and said One Eye told them he would fire them if they
refused to go with any man he ordered them to.
He had the girls over a barrel, and Beth had the utmost
sympathy for them. None of them were outstandingly pretty
or even very bright, and all the other saloons had their quota

436
of girls, so they wouldn't find work anywhere else. The best
they could hope for was that one of the miners would take
them for a 'winter wife', to warm his bed and cook his
meals. But a cold, primitive cabin on the edge of town, with
no money of their own and a man they didn't love, was
probably as bad as being a whore.
"Where will you go?' Beth asked Jack. The prospect of
him leaving made her feel as though a cold steel clamp was
being squeezed around her heart. She thought she'd come
to terms with losing Sam and Molly, but when Theo left her
it was as if every one of her past sorrows had come back at
once. Without Jack, her one entirely true friend, she would
have caved in, perhaps even been tempted to end it all, as
other jilted women had done in Dawson.
But for weeks she'd been aware that Jack hated and
despised One Eye, and it would be wrong to try to make
him stay purely for her sake.
'Out to Bonanza.' He shrugged. 'There's plenty of work
there.'
'But it's such a very hard life,' she protested.
'Not as hard as bowing and scraping to old One Eye,' he
said with a grin. 'I'll come back when the ice breaks up in
spring, and if some rich and handsome man hasn't claimed
you by then, maybe we'll both be ready to go back to the
Outside.'
Beth smiled weakly. She could tell by the glint in Jack's
eye that he was actually savouring the idea of working out
at Bonanza. He had never been afraid of hard work or rough
conditions, and he had more in common with many of the
miners than he did with the gamblers, parasites and toffs
here in Dawson. It was only Theo's influence that had got
him into being a bartender, and in reality he was worth far
more than that.

47
'I've no interest in any more love affairs, but I know I'm
going to miss you terribly.' She reached out to hug him.
'Take care of yourself, and send notes with someone so I
know how you are.'

Jack left two days later with a miner called Cal Burgess on
his dog sledge. Beth went down to the frozen shore to wave
him off, smiling brightly even though she wanted to cry.
The malamutes were barking furiously and straining at their
harnesses to go. When Cal jumped on the back of the sledge
and gave the dogs their signal, they leapt forward eagerly.

Jack turned, his face half hidden in his wolf fur-lined
hood, his mittened hand raised, but she guessed by the
straight line of his lips that he was worried about leaving
her.
It had been terrible when Theo walked out on her. She
felt exposed, humiliated and that her hopes and dreams were
shattered. But she had been able to pick over the bones of
their relationship, list his many faults and past failings, and
see for herself that he'd always been out for the main
chance. She really ought to have known better than trust
him implicitly.
But there were no such feelings to counterbalance the
sadness she felt at Jack moving on. Hardly an hour went by
when she didn't miss him. When she made the first cup of
coffee of the day, she'd imagine his sleepy morning face
with a dark rash of stubble, breaking into a smile as she
woke him. Later, when the saloon was open, she'd remember
how in quiet times she used to sit up on a stool by the bar
and chat to him as he cleaned the shelves and polished
glasses.
There were the jokes they shared about customers. Jack
could convey a message to her about a very large nose, a

speech impediment, a compulsive liar or any other defect,
with no more than a smirk or a raised eyebrow. Sometimes
they couldn't contain their laughter and had to duck down
under the bar or rush out to the back, for fear of being
asked for an explanation.
But it was in the evenings that she missed him most, for
they had always gone to get supper together around six. She
would change and do her hair when they got back, and later,
when she walked back into the saloon to play, he'd give her
a wolf whistle. He was always there, always admiring and
supportive, always the friend who never let her down. He
had been ready to talk at any time, night or day, and happy
to sit in companionable silence too when that was what she
wanted.
When she looked back, that was the way it had always
been. If he hadn't fired her up to go to Heaney's, maybe
she would never have played in public, but found a job in a
store. He didn't falter when she jilted him for Theo, and
despite all the girls he'd had, and there had been many, he'd
never let them come between them.
He gave her strength and consolation when she lost her
baby and took control of everything in Skagway. He had
got them up the Chilkoot Pass. He'd shared her grief at
losing Sam, and understood how she felt about Molly's
death. He'd even shared her hurt when Theo ran off.
But now he was off to have a life of his own, and however
much she missed him, she was glad for him. He'd spent too
long supporting her, Sam and Theo; it was time he used all
that energy and ability he had for himself.
She realized too that she must do the same.

From the moment she met and fell for Theo, she'd virtually
given her life into his keeping. She'd never stopped to
ask herself if she really wanted to be part of his grandiose

439

plans; in fact she lost the ability to make any of her own.
Looking back, it seemed incredible that she'd travelled so
many thousands of miles, put up with so many hardships, just to be at his side.
She was brushing her hair in her room one morning a
few weeks after Jack had gone, when all at once it occurred
to her that One Eye was using her in just the same way as
Heaney had back in New York. Accepting the money put
into the hat each night and being grateful he let her keep
her room was playing into his hands. She was being
exploited, and if she wasn't careful she'd become trapped
like Dolores and the other saloon girls.
She was making some 200 dollars or more a week, but
the high cost of everything in Dawson soon whittled that
down, for she'd bought new dresses, a fur to keep warm
outside, and thick, fur-lined boots.
In all the giddiness of getting here and being part of the
madness that was Dawson, she'd lost sight of the reason
why they made the hazardous journey in the first place. The
plan had been to make their fortunes.
Theo had done that, but all she'd got to show for her
hard work was savings of 160 dollars. That wasn't going to
get her very far.

'Come on now, honey, give me a kiss!'
Beth recoiled in horror as One Eye drunkenly tried to
lunge at her. He was wearing his yellow and black checked
suit, the waistcoat so tight around his middle that part of
his belly protruded beneath it. His face was red and shiny
with sweat and his breath was rank.
It was four in the morning and it had been a very busy
night, with a poker game running for huge stakes. As usual,
One Eye had sat at a table drinking with his cronies all
I i






evening, only shifting himself to call for more drinks, to
order one of the barmen to eject a drunk, or to fondle one
of the Paradise Alley whores who had taken to frequenting
the place lately.
The poker game had finished an hour ago. All the gamblers
had gone home, and the only customers left were six
or seven men so drunk they were either asleep with their
heads on the table, or wavering precariously on their seats.
The current bartender, known as Sly, an appropriate name
for a man Beth was fairly certain pocketed the price of many
drinks, had been trying to close up so he could go home.
He'd asked Beth to help, and it was when she suggested to
One Eye that the drunks should be ejected that he got up.
But he hadn't ejected anyone; instead, he'd made a play
for her.
Suddenly Beth knew she had to make a stand and prove
herself.
'Back off, you loathsome creep,' she snapped at him. 'I
am not your woman. Lay one hand on me and you'll regret it.'
'You speak to me like that and I'll throw you out on the
street,' he slurred.
She looked scornfully at him swaying on his feet, and this
time remembered that she was popular in the town, while he was laughed at. 'Just throw this lot out,' she said, indicating
the drunks. 'Then go home. I'll deal with you in the
morning.'
She flounced off upstairs, locking her door behind her.
She doubted One Eye would go home or throw the drunks
out, for despite all his talk, he was in fact a weak man. The
chances were they'd all still be there in the morning, out
cold on the saloon floor.
It was early December now, so cold that the snow on the
streets was as hard as brick and it hurt to breathe. The

44'
reason she'd stalled on implementing the plan she'd made
two weeks earlier was purely because her room above the
Golden Nugget was warm and comfortable. She felt secure
here, even though she loathed One Eye. But that security
was gone now he'd got the idea she was his property. He'd
been very drunk tonight, but he was much more dangerous
sober. She wouldn't put it past him to force himself on her,
or even to hatch up some plot to implicate her in some kind
of criminal act as his revenge for rebuffing him.
She barely slept for the remainder of the night, for each
and every creak in the building made her think the man was
coming up the stairs. She gave up trying to sleep at nine,
and got up.
Going first into the saloon, she found all the men
sprawled out cold on the floor. One Eye was still clutching
a whisky bottle, his mouth wide open and snoring loudly.
The stink in there made her gag; it wasn't just the vomit on
the floor, but something even more disgusting.
Closing the door on them, she put on her coat and fur
hat, then left through the back door.
She had made a point of trying never to think about
Theo, yet she couldn't help but imagine his horror at what
she'd just seen. He'd been scrupulous about refusing to
serve any more drink to men once they didn't know what
they were doing. If a man looked about to collapse, he
ordered the man's friends to take him home to sleep it off.
No one would have got away with lying drunk on his floor.
It was too early for the saloons to be open, so she went
into a cafe in King Street and ordered breakfast.

At eleven, she walked through the door of the Monte Carlo.
'I'd like to see Mr Fallon,' she said to a young man who was
sweeping the floor. 'Tell him it's Gypsy.'


The Monte Carlo had changed hands several times since
the previous June when she played there, and with every
new owner it had been made grander with mirrors, chandeliers,
oil paintings and carpets. The current owner, John
Fallon, was said to be a Southern gentleman, with even
bigger plans for the place. She hadn't ever met him but she
was banking on his having heard of her.
'He's still in bed,' the young man said.
'Well, get him up then,' she said crisply. 'I have other
people to see this morning.'
He disappeared out the back and she heard his feet clonking
up the stairs. A few minutes later she heard them coming
down, and her heart sank because she assumed Fallon had
told him to say he wasn't getting up for anyone.
But to her surprise it wasn't the young man, but a man in
his late thirties. His fair hair was tousled, and he was wearing
a satin smoking jacket over a rather grubby collarless shirt.
'John Fallon at your service, mam,' he said, taking her
hand and kissing it. 'Please excuse my appearance. Had I
known the Klondike Gypsy Queen would come a-calling,
I would have been spruced up, ready to meet you.'
Beth was delighted that the gossip she'd heard was true,
and he really was a Southern gendeman.
'It is I who should apologize for calling so early,' she said.
'It is an honour to make your acquaintance, mam.' He
smiled. 'I am a great admirer of your music. I've often
lingered outside the Golden Nugget to listen to you play.
Back in Virginia we have many great fiddle players, but
I don't think I ever heard any better than you.'
Beth's heart began to beat a little faster. 'Why, thank you,
sir,' she said breathlessly. 'Then perhaps I've come to the
right place.'
His wide smile and interested pale blue eyes were

44
reassurance enough for her to keep her nerve. 'You see, I'm
looking for a new establishment to play in. And the Monte
Carlo would suit me just fine, providing you would be happy
with my terms.'
'Suppose you tell me what they are?' he said, his smile
fading into a foxy smirk.
'Fifty dollars a night, plus whatever your customers put
in the hat. And a room too.'
He sucked in his breath. 'Fifty dollars a night is too much.
I could only run to twenty-five.'
The figure in Beth's head to settle on had been just fifteen,
but to be offered more made her confidence rise.
'Then I'm sorry, Mr Fallon, I can't play for you,' she said,
and turned to walk out the door.
She was just about to push it open when he coughed.
'Maybe I could run to thirty-five,' he said.
Beth turned. 'Come now, Mr Fallon. You don't want me
playing at the Criterion, do you? Agree on forty-five and I
won't call on them. Providing the room you give me is a
good one.'
He wavered for just a second. 'It's a deal,' he said, coming
forward to take her hand and shake it. 'When can you start?'
'When will my room be ready?' she said.
'An hour?' he suggested.
She nodded. 'Do you have anyone who could escort me
back to the Golden Nugget to collect my things? I fear One
Eye may be a little unpleasant about me leaving.'

'I'll come myself, mam,' he said with a wide grin. 'Just
give me five minutes to get dressed properly.'

It was the most deliriously satisfying moment to see One
Eye's look of sheer outrage when he encountered John
Fallon on the stairs with his arms full of Beth's dresses.







'Wh-wh-where you going with that?' he stuttered.
'To my place,' Fallon said breezily. He turned to Beth on
the stairs behind him. 'Have you got everything now?'
'AH that's important to me,' she said, smirking at One
Eye. She had her fiddle in one hand and her valise packed
with everything else in the other. 'You can let my room to
a couple more whores now. You'll need some new attraction
without me to pull folk in.'
You can't leave me in the lurch like this,' One Eye
protested.
'Come, come, Mr Donahue,' Beth said silkily. 'Customers
who shit their pants and vomit on the floor don't much care
for fiddle playing, and you can turn the whole place into a
brothel now. You'll do just fine.'
She had the delight of knowing that Dolores, one of the
biggest gossips in Dawson, was at the top of the stairs
listening. By tonight the story would be right round town.
One Eye made an attempt at blocking Fallon from reaching
the back door, but Fallon pushed past him.
'Do make sure the saloon is cleaned up before opening
up today,' Beth said crisply as she breezed past One Eye.
'Otherwise people might just think you've got the skids
under you!'

'The Gent must have been feeble-minded to walk out on
you,' Fallon said as he carried Beth's clothes into one of
the front bedrooms at the Monte Carlo. 'It was admirably
dignified, the way you put One Eye in his place.'
'My time at the Golden Nugget is over now,' she said
sternly. 'I'd rather you didn't speak of it again.'
He laid her dresses down on the bed and smiled. 'That's
fine by me, and I think we should have some champagne to
celebrate a new beginning.'

'That would be very nice.' She smiled. She liked the look
and sound of this man. From now on she intended to stop
looking back over her shoulder and make the most of any
opportunities that came her way.

The Monte Carlo was packed to capacity that evening, and
when Beth peeped down over the banisters before she was
due to start playing, she guessed that the latest story about her
was circulating, gathering even more drama with each telling.
Fallon had put signs outside proclaiming she was playing
there tonight, and young Tom had just informed her that
he'd been past the Golden Nugget and there were only three
or four customers in there.
She was going to earn a great deal of money here. She
had the best room in the house, complete with a feather
mattress on the bed, and a dressing table grand enough for
the Queen of Sheba. Even electricity had been installed, and
the place was as warm as toast.
Theo was just a slight ache now. She could live very well
without him.
As she turned back to her room to collect her fiddle,
she looked at herself in a long mirror on the landing. Her
hair shone like wet tar, her eyes were bright with excitement,
and her cheeks flushed a becoming pink. In the purple
satin gown with black lace flounces she'd recently had made
by a dressmaker, with elbow-length black lace fingerless
gloves and a purple flower in her hair, she knew she looked
sensational.
'Use it to your advantage,' she whispered to herself. 'Be
the Gypsy Queen!'

All through the remainder of December, into the New Year
of '99, Beth triumphed at the Monte Carlo. She did two

hour-long sets each night, but often sat in with other
musicians too. John Fallon liked her to mix with his customers,
and it was like a party almost every night.
New Year's Eve and her twenty-second birthday later in
January were special highlights, for Fallon threw a private
party to celebrate the New Year for all the wealthiest and
most influential people in town, and on her birthday he
organized one especially for her, and presented her with a
gold bracelet.
Beth sensed by the way Fallon slipped the bracelet on to
her wrist and kissed her hand that he wanted her, and it
delighted her to find she wanted him too, for that meant
she was free of Theo at last.
She wasn't looking for another serious love affair, but she
was ready to have a little fling. Not immediately -- she wanted
to get Fallon's full measure first -- but in the meantime she
could flirt with him.
Sometimes in the dark and icy January and February days,
Beth actually felt glad Theo had left her, for if he'd still been
around she would never have discovered how strong and
independent she really was. She had taken control of her
own life, she was a living legend in Dawson, and she knew
that wherever she decided to go after here, she had enough
confidence and belief in herself to succeed.

In early March she decided the time was ripe for a night of
love. She had found it hard to think of anything else for a
few weeks, often waking in the night from erotic dreams.
It was the law in Dawson that on Saturday nights everything
should be closed by midnight, and ever since Beth
came to the Monte Carlo, Fallon had always opened a bottle
of champagne once the doors were shut, and asked her to
join him.

She had been saving all her money since she began at the
Monte Carlo, but because she wanted to look extra special
for Fallon, she got a seamstress to run her up a new scarlet
gown. It was modelled on the style of a flamenco dancer's
dress, with a low-cut neckline, frilled sleeves, and a close
fitting boned bodice taken right down over her hips, then
flaring out in layers of frills to her feet.
It was a sensational gown, one that she would never
have dared wear anywhere but Dawson, and part of its
delight was knowing that it was risque and would raise
eyebrows. She knew people still gossiped about Theo leaving
her, and perhaps this gown would prove she was over him.
She knew she was, for as she slipped it on over new silk,
lace-trimmed underwear, all she could think of was Fallon
undoing her laces and buttons, and it brought a flush to her
cheeks.
She played for him alone all evening. The saloon was
crammed with people, all looking up at her on the little
stage, tapping their feet, clapping their hands and smiling.
But her dark eyes were on his face as he stood at the corner
of the bar. He wasn't dashingly handsome like Theo; his
skin was pale and he had unremarkable features and pale
blue eyes. But he had style -- tonight he wore a sea-green
silk waistcoat beneath his dark suit, his hands were soft and
manicured, and the smile on his lips was just for her.

'You look very beautiful tonight,' Fallon said as he handed
her a glass of champagne in his parlour after the saloon had
closed. 'And your new gown is very becoming.'
The parlour was small, with no room for anything more
than a couch in front of the fire, a large polished wood desk
and chair, and a safe stacked high with papers. He ran the
saloon from here, and the adjoining room was his bedroom.

Well, thank you, Mr Fallon,' she said with a smile.
'It's John,' he said, standing with his back to the fire. 'I
can hardly seduce a lady who calls me Mister.'
'So you intend to seduce me, do you?' she said impishly.
'I have been intending to do that from the first day you
walked into my saloon.' He grinned. 'But I sense that you
are giving me the signal to go ahead tonight. Am I right?'
'Would a lady admit to that?'

'One as honest as you would.'
She got up, putting her glass down on his desk. 'Then
maybe you'd better kiss me,' she said.
Beth had studied his mouth a great deal recently. It was
in fact his most attractive feature. His lips were well shaped
and plump, turning up at the corners, almost as though he
was constantly smiling. She hoped that meant he was good
at kissing.
He put his hands on her waist and drew her close, looking
down at her in amusement. 'I hope you aren't being a tease!'
She didn't answer, for his lips came down on hers and
his arms went round her.
He was good at kissing, not too forceful nor yet too hesitant,
and as the tip of his tongue insinuated itself between
her lips, she felt dizzy with desire.

The walls in the Monte Carlo were nothing more than thin
wood partitions, and the sound of the various residents
talking, laughing and going up and down the stairs was a
little disconcerting. Beth was afraid they could hear her
heavy breathing as John moved her back to recline on the
couch and kissed her again and again. When he put his hand
down the bodice of her gown and released her breasts, she
had to stifle a gasp of delight as he kissed them.
'Beautiful breasts,' he murmured, licking at her nipples

with the tip of his tongue. 'I have dreamed of doing this for
so long.'

His hand stole up under her skirt, caressing the soft skin
above her stockings, slowly working his way up under her
drawers until his fingers found her sex. 'So wet,' he whispered.
'I think you must really want me.'

Beth forgot about the people who might overhear, for
John was doing things to her with his fingers that made her
want to scream out how good it was. But he was rude with
her too, pushing her skirt up so he could look at her body,
which made her feel so wicked and wanton.

He took her there on the couch while they were both still
dressed, thrusting into her with such force it both shocked
and thrilled her.

'I'm so sorry, that wasn't very gallant of me,' he said when
he was spent. 'Please forgive me.'

'There's no need to apologize,' she said, for even if it
hadn't been entirely satisfying, it had been very good.

'I've crumpled your gown too,' he said, looking concerned.

'It will recover.' She laughed. 'Now, are we going to get
into your bed, or am I to go back to my own?'

'Please stay with me,' he said, kissing her again. 'I want
to prove I can be a sensitive lover.'
Chapter Thirty-three



I
'Wake up, John, something's going on outside,' Beth said,
shaking his arm roughly.
It was some six or seven weeks since she first went to
bed with John, and she'd never had cause to regret it. John
had proved he was capable of being not only a sensitive
lover, but also an extremely demanding one. He would often
search her out during the day while the bar downstairs was
full of people, between her two sets in the evenings, and
still be ready for more when he finally shut the saloon in
the early hours of the morning.
For Beth it was just what she needed. She hardly ever
thought of Theo now, and when she did it was with faint
amusement rather than hurt. She had made many new
friends, she had money saved for the future, and because
she only worked in the evenings, she had time to help out
at the hospital during the day.
She still missed Jack, but every couple of weeks someone
coming in from Bonanza would bring a letter from
him. He was working for Ed Osborne, an old Sourdough
known affectionately as Ostrich or Oz because he so rarely
left his claim. Beth could tell Jack was happy out there for
his letters were full of funny little stories about miners
he'd met.
Beth was entirely content. Her relationship with John was
built on mutual passion, but she didn't feel the need to dress
it up as love, or hope it had a future. John had a wife and
three children back in Virginia, and he'd been honest enough


to admit from the outset that it was his intention to sell the
Monte Carlo by midsummer and return home.
'There's always something going on out there,' John said
sleepily, trying to draw her into his arms. 'Go back to sleep.'
Beth was just about to snuggle down again when she
heard the cry of 'Fire' and she was instantly out of the bed
and at the window.
All she could see was a golden glow further along Front
Street, but that was more than enough. This time she
pounded John with her fists to wake him, for she'd seen
how quickly fire could spread back at the end of '98. That
night the Greentree and Worden hotels and the post office
had all burned down, and men had to chop down other
structures to stop the fire spreading right through the town.
John rushed off to wake everyone in the Monte Carlo
while Beth pulled on her warmest clothes, for it was some
40 degrees below freezing outside.

With a hammering heart, Beth ran beside John towards the
fire. By now most of the residents and owners of property
in Front Street were outside, men hastily organizing themselves
to break the ice on the river to get water. Everyone
was asking where the fire engine, bought only the previous
year, was. But it seemed that the newly trained fire fighters
had been in dispute about their wages and the boilers in the
engines had not been kept alight.
Beth looked on in horror as men built fires on the river
ice to melt it and reach the water, but that was taking far
too long, and the fire was jumping from building to building,
devouring everything in its path.
At last the fire fighters arrived with hoses and the pumps
were started. Beth saw the hoses slowly begin to swell as
they sucked up water, and like everyone else, thought the

fire would soon be under control. But then a ripping sound
burst out, and to the assembled crowd's horror, the hoses
split open, for the water within had frozen and expanded.
Beth saw Tim Chisholm, owner of the Aurora, covering
his face with his hands as the flames began to spread to his
saloon. 'What's to be done?' he cried.
'Blow up the buildings in front of the fire,' Captain Starnes of the Mounted Police commanded, and quickly ordered a
dog team to race to get some explosive.

Thousands of people turned out to try to help. Every cart
or sledge was commandeered to carry away articles from
the condemned buildings in the path of the fire. Men even
rushed into places already ablaze to try to rescue as much
as they could.
'I'll give a thousand dollars to save my bank,' Beth heard
David Doig, the manager of the Bank of British North
America, pledge. But his plea was in vain, for it was soon
gobbled up, along with scores of saloons and dance halls.
The whole town shuddered under the force of the
dynamite explosions, and Beth saw men she knew to be as
hard as nails weep openly as their buildings crackled and
burned.
John was helping soak blankets in river water to try to
save the Fairview, Dawson's best hotel at the north end of
the town, and she turned her attentions to the whores of
Paradise Alley, as the flames approached their rickety shacks.
Many of the girls came running out almost naked, screaming
with fear, but then stupidly trying to rush back in to rescue
their clothes and possessions.
With some help from a few men, many of whom took
off their coats to cover the girls, Beth managed to lead them
all well away to safety.


AU
The night was so cold that many people watching the fire
couldn't feel the heat from the flames until their coats
became singed. Hogsheads of whisky exploded in the flames
and the contents ran out on to the snow, freezing instantly.
And the gold in the bank safe, along with all the jewellery
and other treasures put there for safe keeping, melted in the
fierce heat.
Finally, there was nothing more anyone could do but
stand and watch the inferno, hoping that the fire breaks made
by blowing up buildings would be enough to contain it.
John came back to find Beth and they stood as close as
they dared to the Monte Carlo, which so far had only been
scorched. With their faces red-hot from the blaze, backs
freezing and lungs full of smoke, they couldn't even speak
of the disaster. Most of Front Street, including the Golden
Nugget, with all its memories, was gone. Beth had fleetingly
seen One Eye lurching around holding his head and sobbing
out that he was ruined, and she even found it in her heart
to feel sorry for him.

When daylight eventually filtered through the fog of smoke
they saw that the entire heart of the business part of Dawson
had been destroyed. The Fairview Hotel was saved at the
north end of town, and the scorched Monte Carlo at the
north end. Between them, where once there had been gaiety,
light and warmth, was a huge black gap. The odd burnt
timber still stood erect in a thick bed of grey ash, and it was
the most desolate sight Beth had ever seen.

There was no joy that the Monte Carlo had been saved, for
the scale of the disaster was too devastating, with thousands
now homeless and ruined. John and Beth took in hundreds
of people, letting them bed down wherever they could find

I
room and providing coffee and whatever food they could
rustle up.
Down at the Fairview, hundreds more were camping out
in the lobby. Later in the day it was said that one hundred
and seventeen buildings were lost in the fire, their loss
totalling more than a million dollars.

But Dawson people were robust in spirit as well as body.
Less than twelve hours later Tom Chisholm had erected a
large tent where his old saloon had been and was back in
business as the Aurora Saloon again, even before the ash
had completely settled. That was the signal for everyone
else to buckle to. Within a day or two the all too familiar
sound of sawing wood and nails being hammered began
again, and dray horses were out hauling lumber from the
sawmills.
Beth spent her time cooking up huge pans of soup and
stew to feed the homeless and destitute. She dragged a
sledge around the town begging for bread, meat and vegetables
from those who had supplies, and organi2ed a collection
of donated clothes, boots and blankets too.
John had been very active in the first day or two after the
fire, and she thought nothing of it when he didn't come to
her bed at night, because with the saloon packed with distressed
people sleeping on the floor, it clearly wasn't an
appropriate thing to do.
But suddenly she became aware that he was acting
strangely. She kept seeing him standing out on the singed
boardwalk looking at the blackened gap in the town, and he
wasn't talking to anyone, least of all her.
She was too busy with the food and clothes collections
to concern herself with him at first. But as the days ticked
past, and everyone else was pulling together to plan and


rebuild the town, and still he stood for hours out there
alone, she became puzzled and irritated.
He hadn't lost anything. Business was even brisker than
before the fire, and now most of the refugees were gradually
finding other places to stay and leaving the Monte Carlo,
his staff needed direction.
She was coming back from the hospital one afternoon
eight days after the fire when once again she saw him outside
on the boardwalk. She noticed how dishevelled he was,
unshaven, still wearing the same trousers, shirt and jacket
he'd changed into after the fire.
As she got to the boardwalk he looked round at her but
didn't speak or even smile.
'What's the matter?' she asked. 'Are you sick?'
'No, I'm not sick,' he replied, but his eyes had no light in
them.
'Then come on inside with me, it's very cold out here,'
she said, putting her hand on his arm.

He shrugged off her hand as if it had burned him.
'Tell me what I've done to offend you,' she said in bewilderment.
'Is it because I've been out in the town helping
people? Do you think I'm neglecting you and the saloon?'
'Not that,' he said, giving her a look cold enough to
freeze. 'The fire. It was the Lord's way of showing me how
I've sinned.'
'But you were spared,' she said in puzzlement.
'Precisely. That's the Lord's way of saying, "Sin no more."
Don't you see that?'
Beth suddenly saw what he was getting at. 'You mean
with me?' she asked incredulously.
He nodded. 'I knew it was adultery, but I could not resist
the temptation.'
She wanted to laugh as all this Holy Joe stuff sounded

like a joke; he had never told her he had any deep religious
convictions. But she checked herself just in time as she
remembered he'd begun praying out loud when the men
were trying to light fires to melt the river ice. She had
thought that odd then, but later almost everyone she'd
spoken to said they'd been offering up frantic prayers, and
she supposed she had done so silently too.
'This town is just like Sodom and Gomorrah,' he went
on, his voice flat and dispirited. 'Now the Lord has destroyed
it to show us what wickedness dwelt here.'
Beth had heard enough. She had always found him rather
formal and pompous, not a man to make a woman laugh,
or even a great conversationalist. What she'd liked about
him was his lpvemaking and his good manners, and now
the lovemaking had clearly gone for good, and he was
implying she was the serpent in the Garden of Eden, they'd
obviously reached the end of the road.
'So, like Lot and his wife, you are going to flee,' she said
sarcastically. 'Mind you don't look back while you're fleeing
or you might turn to a pillar of salt.'
"You would do well to consider your sins too,' he said
reproachfully. You seduce men with your Devil's music'
Beth did laugh then. She wouldn't have been surprised to
hear a statement like that back in England, but it was ludicrous
here in a Frontier town coming from the lips of a
man who just a week ago couldn't have his way with her
often enough.
'So why, if you were a religious man, did you come here
and buy a saloon?'
'I guess the Devil tempted me away from the Lord.'
'Then you'd better get back in his good books by selling
this place and giving the money to the deserving poor or the
Church,' Beth snapped. 'But pardon me if I don't do the same.

47
Your precious Lord took my parents, my brother and my little
sister from me. I've learned to trust in no one but myself.'

That night Beth sat up in her room. Downstairs the saloon
was packed because there were so few places left for people
to drink in, and their booming voices and laughter wafted
up to her. John had said he didn't want her to play tonight,
and it was clear, even though he hadn't actually said so, that
he wanted her out of his saloon.
She could see the funny side of it, for none of the dancers
in his theatre or his saloon girls were pure as the driven
snow. Gambling, drinking -- it was all ungodly, so why single
her out as the source of evil? She wished Jack was here, for
he had always enjoyed a good joke.
She could of course go to any one of the remaining
saloons in Dawson and they'd welcome her playing for
them with open arms. But the fire, and now John's strange
reaction, had put her off Dawson City.
But it would be another month before the ice broke and
she could get a steamer.
She groped under her bed for her valise so she could
count her savings. As she opened it, the first thing she saw
was the photograph the four of them had had taken in
Skagway, soon after they arrived. It was less than two years
ago, but it seemed far longer. They all looked so young and
fresh-faced, and the backdrop of mountains behind, painted
on canvas, which at the time they'd thought marvellous,
now looked so unrealistic. The boys had borrowed the rifles
they carried on their shoulders -- for Sam and Jack, the first
guns they'd ever held. Beth was wearing a straw boater and
a high-necked blue dress with a little bustle. At the time
she'd been foolish enough to think that attire, with just a
coat over it, would be suitable for the trail.

She smiled and ran one finger over Sam's stern, unsmiling
face in the picture. He'd grown a beard soon after it was
taken to make him look tougher, but it didn't work; he'd
still looked young and starry-eyed. Theo, in an embroidered
waistcoat and well-tailored jacket, looked what he was: an
aristocratic gambling man.

Jack was the only one smiling, almost as if he knew even
then what the mountains had in store for them. He had
learned to shoot, just as he'd gone out of his way to learn
everything about the trail, and to build cabins and a raft.
How odd it was that he'd never had the lust for gold, yet he
was the only one who finally got to the goldfields.

Just looking at the picture made a thousand little memories
pop up in her head. The terrible night squashed up in
the hotel in Sheep Camp, and the ones where they nearly
froze to death at the top of the Chilkoot Pass. So many
people in Dawson had shared that hideous ordeal, yet they
all took pride in having suffered it, like a badge of honour.

Beth preferred to savour the good memories -- speeding
downhill on the sledge to Happy Camp, and the great
evenings they'd had at Lake Lindemann and Lake Bennett.
Sam was dead now, and Theo gone. Only she and Jack were
left.

She thought back to the second day on the immigrant
ship to New York, and smiled at the memory of their first
conversation. Who would have thought that skinny street
urchin would become her dearest friend?

All at once she knew what she wanted to do. Tomorrow
she would ask someone to take her out to Bonanza Creek
to see the goldfields and Jack.
Chapter Thirty-four

The five-dog team were raring to go, barking and pawing
impatiently at the snow-covered ice of the river.
'Sitting comfortably?' Cal Burgess asked Beth as he tucked
the bearskin tighter around her.
Beth nodded. With a wolf-fur hood, a coon-skin coat and
several other layers of clothes beneath, she felt very cosy.
At Cal's signal the dogs leapt forward, and Beth's head
whipped to and fro alarmingly. But as the dogs got into
their stride it was smoother, the fine snow on the ice rising
up and sprinkling on her like icing sugar.
She had packed her belongings the previous night. All
the gowns she wore in the saloon and her daintier clothes,
shoes and boots were packed into a box which this morning
she'd left in safe keeping with friends who owned a restaurant.
Her valise was packed with everything else, and
before leaving she'd bought some luxuries for Jack - fruit
cake, jam, chocolate, fruit, a quantity of lamb and bacon,
cheese and several bottles of whisky. Her fiddle was wedged
in the seat next to her and if it hadn't been for her run-in with John that morning she would have been bubbling over
with excitement at this trip to see Jack.
She had been making some coffee about seven that morning
when John came into the kitchen. She could smell whisky
on his breath and judging by his heavy eyes and crumpled,
grubby shirt, he'd drunk himself insensible and slept in his
clothes.
She offered him some coffee, but his only reply was a

I

baleful stare which implied she shouldn't even be in his
kitchen.
'There's no need to be so hostile,' she said gently. 'I'm
leaving for good in a short while.'
'Where?' he asked.
She knew this wasn't concern for her, only fear she was
going to another saloon and might talk about him.
'I don't think you have the right to ask me that when
you've been so unpleasant,' she said airily.
He gave her another baleful look. 'Whores like you should
be run out of town,' he retorted.
Until that moment she'd had every intention of leaving
quietly without any recriminations, but calling her a whore
changed everything.
'Why, you hypocritical arsewipe!' she exclaimed. "You
were lusting after me from the first day I moved in here. I
held you at arm's length for three months, and when I did
succumb, you couldn't get enough of me.'
'You tempted me,' he whined. 'You are a Jezebel preying
on men's weakness.'
Beth put her hands on her hips defiantly. You pathetic
snake in the grass,' she hissed. 'How dare you try and ease
your own conscience by putting all the blame on to me?
You are the guilty one because you have a wife and children.
I think your poor wife would see it as you taking advantage of meY
'My wife is a gentlewoman,' he snapped back. 'She would
understand that I was no match for a whore like you.'
Beth was outraged. 'Gentlewoman! What the hell does
that mean? That she only lets you fuck her in the dark with
her nightdress buttoned up to her neck? No wonder you
wanted me -- I bet you fulfilled every last little dirty fantasy
you've ever had. But then there's every chance someone else

has been fucking your wife while you've been up here. She
might even have found out what it's like to be loved by a
real man, not some sanctimonious weakling.'
He lifted his hand to strike her, but Beth slapped it away.
'Lay one finger on me and you'll regret it,' she snarled. 'I
could go out on to Front Street right now and raise a posse
who would skin you alive. I have friends in this town. Now,
get out of my way!'
He slunk away then like the snake he was, leaving her
shaking with anger and a little ashamed that she hadn't seen
what he was right from the start.

Tearing along at what seemed a great speed, the cold wind
prickling her face like tiny pins, Beth did her best to wipe
the memory of John from her mind. She did feel a little
pride that she'd stood up for herself and had put him in his
place - a year or two ago she'd never have been able to do
that. But it shouldn't have come to that, and now she felt
bruised and ashamed.
The snow lay in a thick and pristine white blanket on the
river banks, the stumps of all the felled trees making a
curious lumpy pattern. But further back, where the hills
were too steep for logging, the snow-covered firs looked
beautiful. There was no sound but the dogs panting, their
paws thudding rhythmically and the swish of metal skids on
the snow. She knew Cal was standing on the back of the
sledge, but he was so silent, it was as if she was entirely
alone with the racing dogs.
Weak rays of sun were slanting through the clouds, and
it was good to leave the noise, ugliness and gossip of Dawson
behind.
It occurred to Beth that she'd never experienced such
utter peace before. As far back as she could remember there

I







462
I
had always been people and noise all around her. Even up
in the mountains on the trail, there had always been people
close by. Back in Dawson, she often asked old Sourdoughs
who lived miles from their nearest neighbour how they
stood such isolation. Almost all of them said they loved it.
She had an inkling now why that was. Silence was a great
healer.

'Almost there now.' Cal bent down by her ear to speak to
her. 'In a couple of minutes we'll be in Bonanza. It was
called Rabbit Creek until they found the gold and I bet it
was a pretty place then.'
The dogs veered off from the Yukon into the creek.
Within minutes they passed the first of many small snow
covered cabins, smoke rising from the chimneys. Dogs
barked as they went by, and from then on others joined in,
almost as if each dog was passing the message along that a
stranger was coming their way.
All Beth's imaginings about the fabled goldfields were set
in summer, an idyllic scene with flower-strewn meadows,
men in shirtsleeves panning in the water and shady trees
overhead. Perhaps it had been that way before the stampede,
but the trees were cut down now, and each tiny cabin or
shack they passed was surrounded by snow-covered machinery;
sluice boxes, picks, shovels and wheelbarrows were
strewn around on the dirty, trampled snow. Men who looked
more like apes in their heavy coats and hats were bent over
fires or shovelling out dirt from holes in the ground.
'This is Ostrich's claim up ahead,' Cal shouted to her.
'See his flag flying? He hoists it up every morning. He sewed
it himself.'
Beth could see a blue flag fluttering, with something
brown on it, but it wasn't until the dogs began to slow down

4<M
that she smiled as she saw that the brown shape was an
ostrich cut out of leather.
Two big malamutes, one black and white, the other grey
and white, came charging down from the cabin, tails wagging
and making that woo-woo sound Beth had come to know
was typical of their breed.
'They know I always bring them something,' Cal said,
pulling up his dogs and jumping off the back of the sledge.
'But you give it to them.'
Beth got off the sledge and took the bag Cal was holding
out. It contained two large bones and she gave them to the
dogs a little nervously. She must have met thousands of
sledge dogs, this breed and huskies too, since she'd started
out in Skagway. She admired their strength and courage
enormously, but she had never been at such close quarters
with them before.
'Don't be scared of them,' Cal said. 'Malamutes like
people, and they'll like you.'
'Howdy, Cal,' a voice called from the cabin, and an older
man with a bushy beard, in a thick coat and matted fur hat,
came shuffling down the path towards them. 'You stoppin',
or are you taking that purty young lady on a jaunt?'
Beth smiled.
'Her jaunt ends here, Oz,' Cal said. 'This is Miss Bolton,
the famed Klondike Gypsy Queen. She's come to see
Jack.'
Before Beth could even shake Oz's hand, he turned and
yelled to Jack to come, his voice so loud it made the sledge
dogs howl.
'Well, missy,' Oz said, turning back to her. 'I sure do
hope you've brought your fiddle with you, for I've heard a
great deal about how sweet you play it.'
Suddenly Jack was up on a hill above them, running down

as though the hounds of hell were after him, whooping as
he came.
'I'd say the lad is pleased to see you, missy,' Oz said with
a toothless grin.
Jack had grown a thick beard, his hair was touching his
shoulders, and in mud-daubed clothes and boots he looked
just the way all the miners did. But his face glowed with
health and he'd lost that strained look he'd had in the last
weeks at the Golden Nugget.
He hugged Beth and spun her round, laughing with
delight.
But her heart sank when Oz asked them into his cabin
for a cup of coffee, for she couldn't see how Jack could fit in there, let alone her too. It was tiny, with a hard-packed
dirt floor, a bed made out of old packing cases, a table, stool
and another chair, all made out of rough wood. But it was
very warm, for there was a tin stove, and Oz laced the coffee
liberally with whisky.
Both Jack and Oz were anxious to hear every detail about
the fire. They'd got news of it a couple of days after the
event, and Jack said he'd been set to come to Dawson to
see if Beth was all right. But then he was told that the Monte
Carlo was still standing and she'd been looking after the
homeless.
It was only when Cal got up to go, saying that he'd get
her bag from the sledge, and then he must be on his way to
pick up a load of timber, that Beth realized both Jack and
Oz thought she'd just come for the day and would be
returning with Cal.
'I had hoped I could stay with you for a while,' she
explained. 'But I can see there's no room. So perhaps I'd
better go back with Cal.'
'You certainly won't,' Jack exclaimed. 'I don't live here

with Oz. I've got my own cabin up on the hill. If you can
stand the roughness of it, I'd be more than glad for you to
stay.'
They waved Cal off and, picking up Beth's valise, Jack led
the way round Oz's cabin and on up the steep hill, past a
great deal of snow-covered equipment.
'It's real good to see you,' Jack said, his dark eyes shining
the warmest of welcomes. 'I guess something went wrong
with you and Fallon? But you don't have to tell me if you
don't want to.'
Beth was too out of breath to speak, and she was a little
horrified that Jack had heard that there had been something
between her and John. She ought to have expected it,
though, for no one could do anything in Dawson without
everyone hearing about it.
Jack's cabin was a log one, much like Oz's, but larger and
newer and the furniture was less crude.
'You can have the bed,' he said as he stirred up his stove
and put some more wood on it. 'I've got a camp bed, that'll
do me.'
'What did you hear about Fallon and me?' she asked,
sitting down on a miner's string chair.
Jack shrugged. 'Just that you'd taken up with him, but I
was a bit sad you didn't feel able to tell me in any of your
letters.'
'Do you tell me every time you have a new woman in
your life?' she retorted.
'I would if she meant anything special.'
'Well, Fallon wasn't special. It was just a bit of--' She
paused, not knowing how to explain without admitting it
was just sex.
'A fling?' he prompted.
Tes, that's all it was.'

I

Jack nodded in understanding. 'So who ended it?'
There was nothing for it but to tell him how it was. But
as she began to tell him what John had said after the fire,
she saw the funny side of it and began to laugh.
'Oh, Jack, it was so weird. I'd never have put him down
as a Holy Joe, and when he came out with all that turning
away from wickedness, and saying Dawson was like Sodom
and Gomorrah, I couldn't keep a straight face.'
Jack laughed too. 'I sometimes think that all the strangest
people in the world end up in Dawson. I always found
Fallon a bit of an oddball. He used to come into the Nugget
and have just one drink while you were playing. He didn't
seem to have any pals, he never gambled, I couldn't see
what attracted him to the Klondike, or why he bought the
Monte Carlo.'
'He never told me why.' Beth shrugged. 'But then we
didn't talk much about anything now I come to think of it.
He said I was a whore this morning. Isn't that awful, Jack?
But I guess I brought it on myself.'
Jack came over to her chair and knelt in front of her, his
eyes full of understanding. 'I'd like to go into Dawson
tomorrow and beat him to a pulp, but that would only create
more gossip. He's to be pitied if he doesn't see the difference
between a woman who gives herself willingly and one who
demands payment.
'Don't torture yourself, Beth, just put it down to experience.
You are still the prettiest girl I know, my best pal and
the greatest fiddle player. So the way I see it, you haven't
lost anything but a bit of pride.'
'I shouldn't have taken up with a married man,' she said
sadly. 'It was wrong.'
'Now, don't you come all holy on me.' Jack laughed and
got to his feet, pulling her out of her chair. 'Let me show

you what I've been doing before it gets dark, and tonight
we'll get blinding drunk to celebrate you finally making it to
Bonanza.'
Jack led her up some fifty yards behind his cabin. He
warned her to take care to walk carefully around any indentations
in the snow as they were holes he'd dug. He explained
what he was doing.
'The ground is frozen two feet or so down, even in
summer,' he said. 'So I dig down as far as I can, then light
a fire in the hole. That melts the ice, and the next day I
shovel out all the slushy dirt, which is what those piles are.'
He indicated huge snow-covered mounds and a fresh one
that he'd been digging out when she arrived. 'They are called
dumps.'
He swept the snow off a long trough with crossbars
running all along the bottom. 'This is a sluice, and when the
thaw comes, I'll shovel the dump into the sluice, then wash
it with water. All the gravel and dirt gets washed away, and
if I'm lucky I'll find some gold stuck at the bottom of the
sluice.'
'And you give it to Oz?' she asked.
'Not if I find it here. I've taken a "lay" on this bit of his
claim. I didn't pay him any money for it. Our arrangement
is that I work for him down there for part of the day, and
anything we find there belongs to him. In return I get this.'
Beth nodded. 'So have you found any gold?'
'Not yet, that will only be revealed when I start sluicing.
Maybe I won't ever find any. But Oz has found a lot in the
last two years. He could, if he wanted, sell this claim for a
fortune.'
Beth smiled. Ever since she arrived in Dawson she'd
heard so many fantastic stories about claims along Bonanza
and Eldorado changing hands for staggering amounts. Many

468


I
of the men who originally staked the claim now owned the
hotels and saloons in Dawson, or had gone back to the
Outside very rich men.
Yet there were still many old Sourdoughs like Oz who would never sell up. They continued to live in their primitive
cabins, going into town once in a while to blow a great
chunk of their gold, then back they'd go to the cabin and
start again.
'Oz can't dig much now,' Jack explained. 'He's getting
old, tired and achy. He don't really need any more gold, but
he don't want to give up either. So with me here he's got
what he wants -- help, company and the excitement that
comes with finding more gold.'
They walked on then right up the hill to where it turned
to woodland.
'I come up here and shoot,' Jack said. 'I got a moose a
couple of weeks ago and we've got enough meat to last till
the thaw. It was so pretty last autumn, so many different
berries growing and the leaves changing colour, not like
down there,' he said, thumbing in the direction of the view
down towards the creek.
Beth turned to look at the snow-covered scene. 'It's pretty
now,' she replied. 'But I suppose that's because all the scars
of holes, dumps and mining equipment are disguised by the
snow. I bet it will look like a junkyard set in a slick of mud
come the thaw.'
'Worse. There's huge ditches cut from the streams to
wash out the sluices. It looks hideous.'

Jack had to light more fires in his holes, so Beth went back
into the cabin as it was so cold.
She didn't need to ask if he'd built it. His stamp was all
over it, from the way he'd fitted the bed into an alcove to

the carefully crafted shutters at the windows. She guessed
he'd made most of.the furniture during the worst weather
when he couldn't go outside. She ran her hand over the
table legs, marvelling that he'd whitded the curves and
rubbed them down till they were smooth.
Everything was so tidy too. Plates and dishes were stacked
away on the shelves, a shirt hung drying on a rack by the
stove, and he'd even made his bed.
It was while looking at the bed that she saw the pictures.
They were pinned to the wall in the alcove and wouldn't
be seen by anyone just coming into the cabin for tea and
a chat.
One was of Jack and herself when they first got to New
York, which they'd had taken in a booth down by South
Seaport. Beth's copy was lost when they had to move so
hastily out of the flat on Houston Street, and it was good to
see it again. Another picture was of her playing her fiddle at
the Bear in Philadelphia. She had no idea who had taken it
or when, as she'd never seen it before.

There was one of Jack and her taken at Skagway. That one,
she remembered, was taken by a man who was compiling a
photographic journal of the Chilkoot Trail. She didn't know
how Jack had got a copy of it, for they never saw the man
again. Finally, there was one of her playing on the opening
night at the Golden Nugget. It was taken by the editor of
Dawson's newspaper, The Nugget, and it appeared in the
paper along with an article about her, Jack and Theo, and
how they'd lost Sam on the trail. Jack must have begged
him for a copy of the picture.
She felt warm inside at him displaying pictures of her.
She thought most miners would have pictures of pretty,
scantily dressed ladies, not just an old friend.

47°


I
'Those pictures of yours brought back a few memories,' she
said later when he got back.
He looked a little sheepish. 'It's good to look at them
when I go to bed,' he said. 'I had the one with the four of
us taken in Skagway up there for a while too, but I took it
down because Sam's face made me sad, and Theo's made
me angry.'
Beth pointed to the one of them together in New York.
'You look so young and skinny,' she said. 'And I look very
prim. How we've changed!'
You wouldn't even invite me up to your room in those
days.' He grinned. 'And here we are all this time later, alone
together miles from anywhere. That's progress!'

In the days following her arrival at Jack's, Beth felt like a
tightiy coiled spring gradually unwinding. The fire in
Dawson, helping the homeless and the unpleasantness with
John afterwards must have taken a lot out of her.
It was good to wake in the morning to absolute silence
and to know the day ahead would make no demands on
her. Sometimes Jack took her out for an exhilarating ride
on the sledge, with Oz's dogs, Flash and Silver, pulling them.
But mostiy she read a little, mended Jack's torn clothes and
took walks along the frozen creek or up through the woods,
with the dogs happily accompanying her.
The temperature had risen, and when the sun came out
it felt almost like spring. Jack was the easiest of people to live with, always calm, never complaining. His face broke
into a wide smile when she took him coffee and cake while
he was digging, and appreciated it when she'd heated hot
water for him to wash when he came in. But he didn't expect
anything.
Yet the thing she liked best of all was that he made her

47'
laugh. She would be sitting reading and she'd suddenly look
up to see his face pressed grotesquely at the window. Once
she heard a growling and scraping at the door and took
fright, thinking it was a bear, but it was only him playing the
fool. Most of the laughter, however, came from light-hearted
banter between them, shared memories or observations
about people. She realized that she hadn't really had that
with Theo, nor long conversations either. She suspected that
if they hadn't always had Sam and Jack around them, they
might have been very bored.
The days were growing longer now and sometimes they
would go down to Oz's cabin after supper, and Beth would
play her fiddle for him. Some evenings men from nearby
claims would hear her and come along too. They were the best
of times, for some of the men would sing with her, they had
good stories to tell and appreciated some feminine company.
There were a few women along Bonanza. In the main
they were a tough, hard-bitten breed who dug holes in the
frozen ground as efficiently as their men, and often did other
jobs as well, like washing for other miners or baking bread
and pies to earn badly needed extra money. They rebuffed
Beth's tentative overtures of friendship, and while Jack said
this was because they didn't want a pretty woman near their
men, Beth felt it was more likely that they had heard the
gossip about her.
While that didn't matter here, Beth realized with a little
alarm that once back on the Outside she was going to face
more serious social disapproval.
A dance-hall girl, or even a whore, might get married, or
become a nurse or a secretary, with little fear of anyone
discovering what she had done here. But Beth knew she
was up there with Klondike Kate, Diamond Tooth Gertie
and other women who'd made a big splash in Dawson City,

47

I
and the stories about them all had spread all over the world
through newspaper articles about the Klondike.
So unless she gave up playing her fiddle in public, and
never told a soul on the Outside that she'd been to Dawson
City during the Gold Rush, the more scandalous parts of
her time here in Dawson were going to get out.
Beth had been thinking about this problem one morning
as she got washed and dressed. She had no solution as her
fiddle-playing was the only way she had of making a living.
But as the sun was shining, she thought she would stop
worrying about her future and see if she could tempt Jack
into leaving his digging to go for a walk with her.
She knew the temperature had risen the second she
walked out of the cabin for her face didn't tingle as it usually
did. Then she heard dripping. It was all around her, coming
from the snow-covered machinery, the roof of the cabin,
the path down to Oz's, everywhere.
The snow was melting!
Excitedly, she ran up behind the cabin and up the hill,
calling to Jack. He paused in his digging as she approached
him and leaned on his shovel with a wide grin on his face.
Beth stopped short, whatever she was going to say forgotten
at the sight of him without his beard.
'When did you do that?' she asked.
'Do what?'
"You know! Your beard's gone.'
'Oh, that.' He rubbed his chin as if he was surprised to
find no hairy mass there. 'I saw the thaw had come this
morning, and I thought it was time the beard went too.'
"You look much nicer,' she said. In fact he looked very
handsome, for his square jaw and wide mouth were two
good features he never should have covered. 'And much
younger.'

47
'I'm glad it meets with your approval,' he said. 'But what
were you rushing up here to tell me? Is Queen Victoria
dead?'
'Not as far as I know.' Beth laughed. 'I was just excited
because the snow is melting.'
'Remember how it was last year?' Jack mused. 'Up to our
knees in mud at Lake Bennett and you skipping off to look
for spring flowers!'
'Let's go and do that again,' she suggested.
'There won't be any flowers for a while,' he reminded
her.
'But there might be in sheltered places. Let's go and
look?'
Jack stuck his shovel hard into the ground. 'All right, just
to please you.'

As they reached the woods at the top of the hill, the thaw
was even more apparent, for the sound of snow plopping
from the branches of trees was almost a symphony. Beth
made a snowball and threw it at Jack, and he quickly retaliated.
She ran for it, but each time she took shelter behind a
tree, she made another snowball to hurl at him.
The game went on and on, both of them shrieking with
laughter each time they were hit and jeering at each other
when they missed.
They had gone further and further into the wood, and
Beth found a very big tree to hide behind. Jack was suddenly
silent, so she peeped round the tree trunk to see where he
was.
Suddenly she felt his hand clamp on to her shoulder.
'Boo!' he shouted, making her nearly jump out of her skin
as she hadn't heard him creep up behind her.
She had a snowball ready in her hand, and she brought it

up and pushed it into his face. 'Boo to you too,' she giggled.
He laughed and brushed the snow off his face, but
there was still some on his nose. They were only a foot
apart, and Beth took off her mitten and reached out to brush
the snow away. But as her hand touched his cheek, she
suddenly saw something in his eyes. It was the same look
she'd seen the last night on the ship before they got to New
York. She was so innocent then that she hadn't known what
it meant, except that it was special. But she knew what it
was now.
Raw longing.
She couldn't take her hand away from his cheek. She had
a feeling welling up inside her that was so strong and sweet
she felt she might cry. He took her hand and moved it to
his mouth, kissing her palm. The warmth and softness of
his lips sent an exquisite tingle down her spine.
It was she who moved closer, moving her hand to his
cheeks to kiss him on the lips. For a moment or two he
didn't move, her lips on his, their bodies not quite touching,
but then his hand came up to cup her face and he was
kissing her back with such tenderness it made her feel she
was an innocent seventeen-year-old again.
How long they stood there kissing she didn't know, but
she knew she didn't want it to stop. Every part of her body
was tingling with desire, wanting more than kissing but
afraid to break away even for a second in case the spell
broke.
Snow continued to plop from the trees all around them
and the sun felt warm as it slanted across her cheek. In the
distance she could hear the clank of a windlass as a miner
hauled his bucket of mud out of a hole in the ground, and
a bird chirruped on a nearby tree.
It was Jack who drew away first. His bare hands went

back to cup her face and he looked deep into her eyes. 'My
beautiful Beth,' he sighed. 'I hope this isn't just a dream and
I wake up to find it didn't really happen.'
1

I

I.Chapter Thirty-five

As they stopped outside the cabin to remove their boots,
Beth felt awkward. The kissing had happened spontaneously
up on the hill and it felt pure and right. But now they were
going inside she was very aware that she had to decide
whether or not they would move on to the next stage. She
wanted to, but she wasn't sure if it was wise.
Jack was her best and closest friend, the one person in
the whole world who really knew her inside out. She was
afraid of jeopardizing that friendship.
'Scared?' Jack asked as they stepped into the cabin.
'No,' she lied.
'Well, I am,' he admitted, kissing her nose as he took offher
hat and ran his fingers through her hair. 'But then I've been
dreaming of making love to you ever since I first met you.'
'Really?'
¦Yes, really. If you could have read my thoughts sometimes,
you would've blushed.'
"You're teasing me?'
'I'm not,' he said, unbuttoning her coat. 'Thoughts of
you have kept me warm on many a cold night.'
He dropped her coat on the floor, drew her into his arms
and kissed her again. As his tongue flickered against hers,
Beth felt the tugging of desire inside her and she knew she
was lost and couldn't back away.
Still kissing her, he managed to remove all her clothes
down to her chemise, then took her over to the bed and
knelt beside it to peel off her stockings. 'I always used to


I
wonder what your legs were like,' he said, running his hand
up them while looking into her eyes. 'I saw them as far as
your knees once when we were on the raft, and I nearly fell
in I was so excited.'
'Oh, Jack,' she said reprovingly.
'You don't like to think I was lusting after you all that
time?' he asked, his eyes glinting with mischief as his hands
slid further up her thighs, stopping just an inch away from
her sex.
Delicious waves of desire had rendered her speechless.
All she could do was reach out for him.
He was out of his clothes in a couple of seconds, just
long enough for her to pull the blankets back and get under
them as the cabin was growing cold. But the moment he
was in beside her, his arms around her, she forgot her
anxiety, modesty and cold, for his warm, silky skin against
hers felt so right.
She had thought Theo, Jefferson and John Fallon all to
be good lovers, but they were only mediocre compared with
Jack. He used his fingers with such sensitivity, stroking,
probing and kissing in such an unhurried way that every
nerve in her body came alive. Again and again she reached
out to fondle his penis but he always stopped her. It was
only when she felt something erupting inside her, and all
sense of where she was and even who she was had left her,
that he finally entered her, driving forcefully into her as
tremendous shock waves engulfed her.
She heard herself cry out, felt tears course down her face,
and she knew then that he had taken her to a place that
none of her previous lovers had.

Jack propped himself up on one elbow and watched Beth
as she lay sleeping next to him, his heart swelling with love

for her. It was close to midnight, but there was enough light
from the stove and the lantern hanging above it to see her
clearly. It was midday when they came into the cabin, and
since then he'd made love to her three times, along with
making food, washing each other, drinking half a bottle
of whisky between them and talking about anything and
everything. He thought he ought to be exhausted, but he
was too excited to sleep. She had been his first love, his
only true love, and now she was finally his.
There had been many other girls during the six years since
they first met on the ship. Straitlaced ones, wanton ones,
kind girls, cruel girls, happy and sad ones. Some he'd tried
to tell himself he loved, others he just made love to and
hoped the pleasure he gave them made up for his lack of
commitment. But inevitably he was always left with a sense
of disappointment.
Beth had always been his lode star, even when he knew
she had eyes for no one but Theo. But for her he would
still be in New York; he'd never have gone to Montreal,
travelled across Canada or come here. He had become her
self-appointed guardian just to be near her. He would have
done anything for her, even if she never saw him as anything
more than a friend.
Now she was here, her slender body curled into his, deep
in sleep, her face as soft as a child's. He remembered how
she'd looked when they rescued her from the cellar, frozen
to the bone and her face haunted by the horror of her
imprisonment. Her indignation when she discovered Pearl's
place in Philadelphia was a brothel. The night at the hospital
in Montreal was etched on his mind too, when she'd cried
out for Theo but had to settle for comfort from him.
Her courage on the Chilkoot Pass and her powers of endurance throughout that trail had astounded him. Then,

in Dawson, having so recently lost Sam, she lost Molly too.
Yet she gritted her teeth and played her heart out night after
night in the Nugget. Many stampeders who had no money
for drinks had told him they stood outside the saloon to
listen to her play. They said she made them feel less hungry
and thirsty, and that her music gave them hope they'd find
a way to make their fortune.
Jack could understand how they felt, for he had fallen
under the spell of her music the very first time he heard it
on the ship.
Slipping out of bed, he put a little more wood on the
stove to keep it going till morning, and blew out the lantern.
In another couple of weeks the river ice would break up,
and once again thousands of people would arrive in search
of gold.
He smiled, for here in his little cabin he knew he had
something far more precious than gold.

A loud whoop of excitement from Oz wafted up the hill to
Jack and Beth who were busy at the sluice washing through
stones and gravel.
'What's got into him?' Jack said, standing up and moving
to a place where he could see what was going on below.
'Most likely he's found a full bottle of whisky he'd forgotten
about,' Beth joked.
It was the middle of June. Two weeks earlier the ice had
broken up on the creek and Oz's claim had become a slick
of glutinous mud. But constant warm sunshine since then
had dried the worst of it, grass and wild flowers had sprung
up around the cabin and birdsong filled the air.
Beth had never known such happiness. From the moment
she opened her eyes in the morning to see Jack beside her,
till they fell back into bed late at night, she was filled with

the joy of knowing she'd made the right decision to come
out here.
They hadn't spoken of love or even of the future, for it
seemed unnecessary when it was so clear that they were
meant to be together for all time. Beth worked alongside
Jack and Oz, shovelling and sluicing the dump piles cheerfully.
She didn't mind that it was hard, dirty work, or that at
times it seemed poindess. It was enough to be beside Jack,
to laugh and chat and feel utterly secure.
Sometimes in the afternoons he would take her fishing
on the creek in Oz's little rowing boat, and she would lie
back, basking in the sunshine, and greedily contemplate
making love when they got back to the cabin. Other times
they would tramp up to the woods at the top of the claim
and she'd pick flowers while he chopped wood for the stove.
Lust often overtook them up there, for there was something
deliciously wicked and dangerous about making love in the
open air, especially when a bear or even a human could
come along and surprise them.

'Let's go down and see what he's up to,' Jack said. 'It's time
for something to eat anyway. Maybe a bit of canoodling
later would be in order?'
Hand in hand, they ran down the hill to find Oz in a
tattered checked shirt with his trousers held up with string,
bent over his sluice.
As they approached he looked up, his wide smile revealing
his blackened teeth. 'Lookee here at what I've found!' He
picked up an old baking soda tin and handed it to them.
It contained four small gold nuggets. Jack shook them
out into his palm. 'Jesus Christ!' he exclaimed. 'You found
them all together?'
'Yup,' Oz said. 'I've sluiced through five dumps this

morning and nothing, then on the sixth I was left with
those.'
'I'm so glad for you, Oz.' Beth went over to him and gave
him a hug. 'How marvellous!'
'Which hole did they come out of?' Jack asked, looking
around. All the ground to the side of his cabin was full of
holes and dumps beside them.
'That one there.' Oz pointed to the one nearest his cabin.
'That one was the last we did. Remember you was afeared
I'd fall into it when I came out the cabin?'
Jack smiled and turned to Beth. 'It was just before you
came. When he asked me to dig it, I tried to put him off.'
'I suppose you'll be wanting to move the cabin now to
dig underneath it?' Beth asked.
Oz grinned. 'Maybe. But first I had it in mind to get
myself spruced up and go into town and spread the word
around that old Ostrich has struck it rich again. There's
been folks laughing at me for a long time. This'll stop 'em.'
'You'll get some eager to buy the claim off you,' Jack
reminded him.
'If they offers me enough I just might take it,' he retorted.
Beth looked at Jack in alarm, wondering where that would
leave him, but to her surprise he was smiling at Oz. 'You
go on into town,' he said. 'We'll do some sluicing down here
while you're gone, see if we can find more for you. But look
after what you've got there, won't you? That might be all
there is!'

An hour later, Jack and Beth waved goodbye to Oz as he
went off in the boat to Dawson. His sprucing up consisted
only of trimming his beard and changing his clothes into slightly less tattered ones. Beth had made him put the nuggets
into a poke around his neck and tucked inside his shirt.

Jack had advised him to deposit them at the bank before he
began drinking or playing cards.
'What if he does sell the claim?' Beth asked when they'd
waved the older man out of sight. He had left Flash and
Silver with them and they remained sitting on the creek
bank looking towards where their master had gone.
'I hope he does,' Jack replied. 'He won't last another
winter here.'
'But what about you? The new owner won't want you
here.'
Jack shrugged. 'I don't mind. If you hadn't turned up I'd
have been on my way somewhere else by now.'
'You would?'
He laughed at her surprised look and stroked her cheek.
'I didn't come here for gold, only to get away from Dawson.
Now you're with me I could be happy anywhere.'
That was exactly how she felt too, but hearing Jack voice
her feelings was wonderful.
'What will we do then?' she asked. 'If we're chucked off.'
'Whatever you want,' he said, taking her in his arms. 'My
dream has already come true.'
She cupped his face in her hands. 'I love you, Jack Child,'
she said.
'You do?' He looked astonished.
'Of course. A hundred per cent. But I expect you to make
plans. If you don't I'll start pushing you around.'
'There is no one I would rather be pushed by.' He
laughed.
'Aren't you forgetting something?' She playfully bit the
end of his nose.
'What?'
'Well, I said I loved you. Aren't you supposed to respond
to that?'

'How?' he said.
She knew he was teasing and boxed his ear. 'Say it,' she
ordered him.
He caught hold of her round the waist and spun her
around. 'I love you, Miss Bossy Bolton. I have for five long
years,' he said, still spinning her.
He let go and she wobbled with dizziness. 'That's hardly
a romantic way to tell a girl,' she said indignantly.
'I'm more of a practical sort of bloke.' He grinned at her.
'So I'm going to be really romantic now and suggest we get
on with sluicing down here for Oz, and see what else we
can find for him.'

They found five more small nuggets that afternoon. Jack
put them into Oz's tin. 'They must be worth a few hundred
dollars,' he said thoughtfully. 'There was a time when I
might have pocketed them, but meeting you changed that
in me.'
'It did?'
'Yup.' He nodded. 'You were so sparkly clean and honest,
I didn't think I'd have any chance with you unless I became
that way too. I've got a lot to thank you for.'
Beth was very touched. 'I was a fool not to have realized
straight off how right you were for me.'
'Hell, Beth, if we'd settled down and become ordinary
folks back in New York it probably would have fallen apart
in no time. Look at the adventures we've had together!'
She knew that was his way of saying that he didn't feel
bitter about her choosing Theo back then, and that made
her love him even more.
Oz didn't come back within a few days as he'd promised.
Jack and Beth carried on sluicing, finding no gold amongst
Jack's dumps but more small nuggets in Oz's, and they

scooped a quantity of gold dust from the bottom of his
sluice.
It was glorious weather in the main, though the mosquitoes
were irritating, but as the days grew into one week
and then two and still Oz didn't return, Jack became worried
about him. He had never known him leave his dogs with
anyone for that long and they spent all day waiting on the
river bank looking out for their master. But Jack didn't dare
leave the claim tp go and look for him.
News from Dawson City travelled quickly, even out to
the farthest creeks, for everyone passing by had something
to tell. They had heard that the town was almost completely
rebuilt since the fire, with sewerage, electricity, steam heat
and telephones being put in. Since the ice broke up, thousands
more people had arrived, the rich by sea, and the poor
over the trails, and it was said that vast numbers of them
were flat broke, tramping around looking for work. Men
like Jack who were mining for the claim owners were becoming
jittery that their wages would drop with the surplus of
workers, and even those who owned the claims were worried
that desperate men might try claim-jumping, or come out
here to rob.
On 4 July, they heard the bangs and fizz of fireworks
from Dawson, a reminder to Beth that it was a year since
she'd got the news of Molly's death. But still Oz didn't
return.
One afternoon in mid-July, Flash and Silver began howling,
and finally Jack spotted Oz rowing his boat back up the
creek.
They were overjoyed to see him, but as Oz clambered
unsteadily ashore, stinking to high heaven, it was clear he
had been drinking solidly for the past few days and they
thought the worst.

'Have you lost it all?'Jack asked as he helped the old man
to his cabin.
'Yeah, I reckon so,' Oz said before collapsing on to his
bed and immediately falling into a dead sleep.
Jack went down to Oz's cabin twice during the evening
to check he was all right, but he didn't wake.
'He'll have gambled the claim away,' Jack said sadly as he
returned to Beth. 'He's brought nothing back with him but
a couple of bottles of whisky. No provisions or anything. I
guess we'll have to brace ourselves for moving on quicker
than we expected.'
'That's fine,' Beth said. 'Let's get a boat back to Vancouver.
I can play in the Globe again, you'll get work easily
enough. I've got the money I saved, that will see us through.'
'Would you like to go home?' Jack asked.
'To England?' she asked.
Jack nodded.
'I don't think of it as home any more,' she said thoughtfully.
'There wouldn't be anything there for me.'
'That's how I see it too,'Jack agreed. 'Home is wherever
you are. I guess we've got to find the place where we feel
we both belong.'

That night their lovemaking had a tinge of sadness because
it was the end of an era for them. For weeks they'd enjoyed
the kind of total privacy that they knew they'd never get
anywhere else, and freedom to do exactly as they pleased.
They'd even put the tin bath outside and bathed in the
sunshine in the happy knowledge no one could hear or see
them. Back in any city they could only expect to find a
couple of rooms, with all the noise, smells and disagreements
that accompanied crowded conditions.
The following morning Beth made a pile of pancakes and

took them down to Oz; Jack followed on with a pot of
coffee. But to their surprise he was sitting on the bench
outside his cabin in clean clothes, his beard shaved off and
his hair soaking wet.
Beth had always imagined he was at least sixty, but with
the beard gone she could see he was twenty years younger.
'Well,' she said, placing the plate of pancakes down on
the bench beside him and putting her hands on her hips.
We expected to find you still sleeping it off. Or are you the
younger brother of the Ostrich?'
His smile was a faintly embarrassed one. 'I had a dip in
the creek,' he said. 'I guess it was the shock of the cold
water that made me shave off the beard. I sure am sorry I
left you to look after Silver and Flash so long, but things
got sort of complicated.'
'Eat your pancakes while they're hot,' Jack said, and
poured coffee for them all. 'So when have we all got to leave
here?'
'Olsen will be out later today,' Oz said.
Jack nodded. Olsen the Swede had already made a fortune
from his mine on the Eldorado and owned a lot of property
in Dawson. A formidable giant of a man and a first-class
poker player, he'd probably targeted Oz the moment he
heard he was in town with gold.
'It ain't the same in Dawson any more,' Oz said sadly.
'Sure, they've spruced it up, but there's a kinda gloom about
the place, like the bubble's burst. And there's ladies arriving
now!'
'Well, that's good, isn't it?' Beth said, sitting down on a
tree stump. 'There never were enough to go round.'
'They ain't good-time girls.' Oz shook his head as if
that grieved him. 'They's real ladies, bankers' wives, society
dames, school marms and such with their parasols and fancy

hats. Come to settle with their husbands and children too.
There's a fancy dress shop now, some Frenchy dame owns
it, they reckons you can get the latest Paris fashions there.'
Beth and Jack looked at each other, wondering if this was
true or just Oz imagining it. 'How's the Monte Carlo?' Beth
asked.
'All painted up again like there never was a fire. Fallon's
long gone. They said he high-tailed out of town soon after
you left there.'
'What about One Eye?' Jack asked.
'He's still there. They reckon he's got a saloon over in
Louse Town and runs a few whores there.'
'So where are you going today then?' Jack asked.
'That depends.'
'On how much you can scrape together here?' Jack asked.
'It's lucky I kept on panning for you while you were gone.'
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather
bag which contained the nuggets he'd found, and tossed it
into the older man's lap. 'Just do me a favour, Oz, and don't
gamble that away too. We don't want to think of you broke
and cold next winter.'
Oz opened the bag and tipped the nuggets on to his palm,
looking up at Jack in shocked surprise.
'There's some gold dust too. I didn't bring that down
with me, but I'll get it for you,' Jack added.
'You kept this for me even though you knew you'd have
to go?' Oz asked, squinting up at Jack.
'Sure I did, it's not mine to keep.'
'There's not many that honest,' Oz said thoughtfully.
'Reckon I did the right thing after all.'
'You did, Oz,' Jack said, assuming he meant letting him
stay and build a cabin on his claim. 'I've been happy here,
and since Beth came out, even happier.'


I
'So are you gonna get hitched?'
Beth giggled. 'He hasn't asked me, Oz. Don't embarrass
him.'
'A girl who can make pancakes like these and play the
fiddle as sweet as you is worth her weight in gold,' Oz said,
stuffing in another mouthful. 'I'll ask her meself, Jack, if you
don't look sharp and do it.'
'I ain't gonna ask her in front of you,' Jack said, and
grinned. 'But we've got plans to go to Vancouver. I'd better
go down the creek and see if someone can row us to Dawson
later. We can't all get in your boat, not with the dogs too.'
'You can take my boat. I've got it in mind to walk with
the dogs, maybe drop in here and there on some old pals
on the way. But first we got some business to do.'
'I'll get the gold dust,' Jack said.
'I didn't mean that, son,' Oz said, getting to his feet and
walking into his cabin.
'He'll want me to sign something about giving up the lay,'
Jack whispered to Beth.
Oz came back holding a piece of paper in his hand.
'There you are, son,' he said. 'Your ten per cent.'
Jack looked puzzled as he looked at the piece of paper.
Beth came closer and saw it was a banker's draft for 20,000
dollars, made payable to Jack Child.
She gasped. 'You sold the claim for two hundred thousand?'
she exclaimed.
'You didn't lose it in a poker game to Olsen?' Jack asked.
"Course I
didn't. I seen too many men go down that
way.' Oz chuckled. 'I won some money and lost it too, got
myself drunker than I thought possible. But I weren't gonna
gamble that away. I sold it to Olsen.'
'But why give me ten per cent?' Jack asked, his voice
shaking with emotion.





I

'Cos you've looked after me good all winter. Been like a
son to me. Besides, if you hadn't dug them holes, I'd never
have found more gold. Word in Dawson was that I was all
washed up. Olsen wouldn't have given me ten cents for the
claim without seeing some gold.'
'I can't take it,' Jack said, tears glinting in his eyes. 'It's
too much!'
"You took a lay here, you might a struck gold yerself any
time. Only fair I give you a share. We've been pardners,
ain't we?'
Jack looked stunned. He kept glancing at the banker's
draft and then back to Oz.
¦You clinched it when you gave me those nuggets,' Oz
said. 'I'm gonna spread it around Honest Jack is gonna
marry Gypsy Queen. Think of it as a wedding present.'

1



I

'We'll stay at the Fairview Hotel tonight,' Jack said as he
tied the boat up at the shore in Dawson. 'You put on your
prettiest dress and later we'll parade up and down Front
Street.'
'I'll have to get my good clothes from the restaurant,' she
said absentmindedly, distracted by all the new buildings
erected since the fire. It was as though the disaster had never
happened except that the replacement shops, saloons and
dance halls were more substantial and grander than before.
There were also thousands of people milling around.
Many of them were just as shabbily dressed and weary
looking as the newcomers had been the previous year, but it
was staggering how many were fashionably dressed, city-type
folk. As Oz had said, there were also a great many very
respectable-looking women and children.
Beth had heard that a railway had been built to take
passengers from Skagway over the White Pass, but she
doubted any of these smart people had come that way, for
not one of them looked capable of building a boat and
sailing on down the Yukon.
A man in a tailed coat, striped trousers and top hat was
walking arm in arm with a woman wearing white muslin and
a large pin hat trimmed with roses, seemingly unaware that
her dress was trailing in the dust. Another woman in a very
elegant brocade jacket and toning skirt was perched on a
leather trunk, the kind Beth had only ever seen being carried
from first class on the ship coming to America.

There were similarly well-dressed men and women
everywhere, and she couldn't imagine why they had come.
What did they hope to find in this little pioneer town
which was cut off from the Outside for eight months of the
year?
As they began to walk down Front Street, Beth carrying
her fiddle and one small bag, and Jack carrying the rest of
their belongings, she felt as if she was having one of those
strange dreams where she was in a familiar place, but nothing
was as it should be.
It had been like that since they woke preparing themselves
for buying the very cheapest tickets out of here, and a
struggle ahead of them in Vancouver.
Then, without any warning, they were rich.
While that was the best of surprises, there was sadness
too at saying goodbye to a place where they'd found so
much happiness. Then, after the emotional farewell to Oz,
they rowed here, an eerie reminder of how they had arrived
a year earlier, still wrapped in grief at losing Sam.
Last year, as they'd walked down this very street in thick
mud, they'd been cheechakos, the local word for greenhorns,
excited, frightened, weary, expectant and totally confused.
Dawson City had changed them. It couldn't have been
otherwise for it was like being thrown into a huge mixer
where the outrageous characters, the dawn-to-dusk frivolity,
hardships, overcrowding, lax morality and visions of fortunes
being made tossed everyone out slightly changed.
Beth wondered now if she would ever be able to fit
into conventional society again. She had been mulling this
thought over on the boat ride, hardly speaking at all, and as
Jack had been silent too she guessed he was as apprehensive
about coming back here as she was.
'We'll be fine, we've got each other,' Jack said suddenly,

as if he'd read her thoughts. 'If we want, we can leave on
the very next boat.'
Beth flashed a grateful smile at him. She found it remarkable
that he always seemed to know what she was thinking.
At eight that evening, they were almost ready to go out
and look around the town. They had been given one of the
best rooms at the Fairview. It was sumptuous, with a thick
carpet, fancy French furniture, a feather mattress and velvet
drapes at the window. Beth thought cynically that it was a
shame the owners hadn't made any effort to make the
interior walls more robust. She and Jack could hear every
word the people in the next room were saying.
They'd collected Beth's clothes from the restaurant,
cashed the banker's draft, and Jack had bought a smart new
suit, had his hair cut and his best shoes polished.
Beth was tying his bow tie for him when a knock came
on the door. Jack opened it to find the young uniformed
bellboy holding out a letter. 'This came for Miss Bolton,'
he said. 'They said I was to wait for your reply.'
Surprised and puzzled, Beth opened it to see it was from
Percy Turnball, the current owner of the Monte Carlo.

Dear Miss Bolton, she read.
I was delighted to hear the news that you and Mr Child are back in
town. I would consider it a very great honour if you would both come
to the Monte Carlo tonight as my guests, and hope you might
consider playing a couple of numbers for all those who have missed
you so sorely. Your humble servant. P. Turnball.

She handed it to Jack to read. 'What d'you think?'
'Is he the Scotsman they used to call "Big Balls"?' Jack
asked. 'The big bloke with a diamond tie pin who used to
come in the Nugget?'

Beth giggled. Dolores had called him Percy the Pig,
because he had very small dark eyes and a high colour. Like
One Eye, he went in for loud checked suits, but he was a
decent, generous man, and she had liked him.
'Yes, fancy him ending up owning the Monte! Shall we go?'
'If you want to. Maybe it would be good for you to play
here one last time.'
Beth turned to the bellboy. 'Tell him we'll be delighted
to come.'

It was nine o'clock before they got to the Monte Carlo. A
pianist was playing but they could barely hear him for the
noise in the crowded saloon. As Beth and Jack walked in,
people turned their heads to look at them and a kind of
buzz went around the room.
'That's her,' Beth heard one man say. 'She's even prettier than they said.'
Percy Turnball must have noticed the stir because he
came pushing his way through the crowd to meet them.
'Welcome to you both,' he said, his big florid face breaking
into a wide smile. 'There was a good deal of jubilation when
you were seen coming into town earlier today. You're one
of the legends of Dawson, Miss Bolton, even the cheechakos
have heard of you and were disappointed they couldn't get
to hear you play. As for you, Jack, I've heard tales that you
were attacked by a bear, struck it rich and married our Gypsy
Queen in secret. Are any of them true?'
Jack laughed. 'Just tall tales. If I marry the Gypsy Queen
it won't be in secret.'
Turnball slapped him on the back. 'Good for you. I always
did think you two were good together. Let's have some
champagne to celebrate you being back here.'

Turnball led them to a table he had reserved and the bartender
brought over champagne in a silver bucket. It was
far better quality than the stuff Fallon used to give Beth, and
the glasses were real crystal.
Dozens of people she'd never seen before came up to
the table to say how thrilled they were to meet her. It was a
good feeling, and with Jack holding her hand under the
table, the anxiety she'd felt earlier in the day disappeared.
There were many familiar faces in the crowd, all qualifying
for the title of Sourdough now they'd spent a winter here.
Some had been fresh-faced boys back in Skagway, innocents
who had left their small towns in search of a dream. Now
they were rugged men who could turn their hand to anything.
As they were still here, that meant they'd found some
sort of niche, even if they hadn't struck gold.
Here and there were the dance-hall and saloon girls with
their gaudy dresses and elaborate hair styles. They might
look plump, pretty and welcoming, but most were calculating,
tough and mercenary. Yet they had injected Dawson
with glamour and no doubt given comfort to many a miner,
even if he was down on his luck.
Other faces, equally familiar to Beth, were of those who
had set up businesses here. Some she'd met on the trail,
some came by other routes, but they were entrepreneurs all.
A lot of them had lost everything in fires, for even before
the big one in April there had been many others. Defeat
was not in their nature; as one venture crashed, they began
another. Doggedly determined, with steel in their spines,
they would probably survive anything life threw at them.
Yet the majority of the customers were strangers to Beth.
Among them were the latest cheechakos, gaunt-looking men
in shabby mackinaws and high trail boots, yet most of the
strangers were sleek, well dressed and prosperous looking.

'They are just tourists,' Turnball said disparagingly when
he caught her curious stare. 'No trails and hardships for
them; they've come with their leather trunks, even their
maids in some cases, just to say they've seen Dawson City.
None of us knew last year that newspapers all over the
world were following everything that went on here. Some
of these newcomers know more about us than we do ourselves!
Of course, there's still plenty coming here thinking
they'll find gold, but more just want to see what it is all
about.'

At ten Turnball got up on the small stage and banged on a
cymbal to get everyone's attention.
'Ladies and gentlemen,' he said when the place was
hushed. 'All of you here will have heard some of the legends
of the Klondike. Even if you came here the easy way by
boat, you know about those courageous ones who defied
death on the infamous Chilkoot and White Passes, carrying
their kit on their backs.
'The little lady I've got here tonight climbed the Chilkoot
in February last year. She lost her brother to drowning in
the Squaw Rapids too. But she battled on here, carrying her
famous fiddle, and enchanted us all with her music.
'I remember the first time I heard her play, and it was in
this very saloon, just a couple of days after she'd arrived.
Her reputation had gone before her, but I hadn't expected
that the English fiddle player that captured hearts in Skagway
would be a mere slip of a girl.
'That night she brought tears to my eyes, she made my
feet tap and my heart sing, and like every other man in town
I was dazzled by her guts, talent and beauty.'
Turnball turned towards Beth, indicating she was to come
up on stage.

With a flamboyant, open-armed gesture, he raised his
voice to a boom. 'I give you now, our very own darling. The
world-famous Beth Bolton, the Klondike Gypsy Queen!'
To a round of applause Beth jumped up on to the stage
with her fiddle in her hand and dropped a curtsey to the
huge crowd beneath her. For old times' sake she began with
'Kitty O'Neill's Champion,' and within seconds the crowd
were tapping their feet and smiling up at her. Next was 'The
Days of '49', the old 'California Gold Rush Jig', then 'The
Lass of Glenshee'.
She paused to tumultuous applause. Waving her bow for
silence, she addressed her audience.
'I composed this next number myself,' she said. 'I hope
you'll hear in it the blizzard blowing in my face on the
Chilkoot Pass, the saws of the boat builders on Lake Bennett,
and our joy at setting sail when the ice broke. A middle
section is the heartbreak of my brother's drowning, and the
beauty of the Yukon in spring. Finally, there is the gaiety of
Dawson City at the end of the trail.'
Jack had heard her playing something beautiful many times
while he was working at Oz's claim, a number he hadn't heard
before. He had thought it was a classical piece, and had
always meant to ask her to play it one evening, for him.
Now, as she began to play, he realized this was what he'd
heard before. From the achingly beautiful, chill-to-the-bone
opening bars, he found himself reliving the Chilkoot Pass.
He could feel himself bent almost double with the load on
his back and dragging the sledge behind him as he struggled
onwards and upwards through the snow. Somehow she'd
managed to portray in her music the desperation, exhaustion
and fear all the stampeders went through. Yet at the time he
only remembered her smiling brightly whenever he looked
at her.

There was gay humour in the saws of Lake Bennett, and
he noticed many of the Sourdoughs looking at one another
and smiling as they recalled their bitter arguments.
Everyone in the audience, whether they'd been on the
trail or not, could feel the joy of setting sail, for Beth had
managed to inject the flavour of a sailor's hornpipe, the
fluttering of wind in the sails and even the warmth of the
spring sunshine on their backs.
A fast, spine-tingling passage mirrored the thrill and terror
of the rapids in Miles Canyon, but it flowed into a plaintive
memorial to Sam. Jack could see him as they pulled him
from the water, dark red blood from the wound on his head
staining his blond hair. He could picture Beth kneeling
beside his body, her sobs cutting through him like a knife.
And then laying him to rest in his riverside grave, and singing
'Rock of Ages' after they'd prayed over him.
A lump came up in Jack's throat because all this was in
the music. When he looked around him he could see that
even those in the audience who knew nothing of Sam or
the Miles Canyon understood Beth's anguish.
In her portrayal of the voyage on down the Yukon, all
her heartbreak and feeling of hopelessness were there, but
she'd also managed to paint in the beauty of the winding
river, the surrounding mountains, spring flowers, and moose
drinking at the water's edge.
On that journey, they had come upon Dawson suddenly.
Beth illustrated this by an abrupt change of tempo. All at
once her composition was frantic, loud and gay, prompting
Jack to remember the market by the shore, the thick mud,
the thousands of people. She had the Spielers there, shouting
out that their saloon, restaurant or dance hall was the best.
She portrayed the romantic 'Long Juicy Waltz', so heavily
promoted by the kings of the dance halls. Men soon dis
covered their dollar bought only one minute to hold the girl
in his arms, yet some spent a hundred dollars a night for
that privilege.
A touch of burlesque in the theatre at the Monte, saucy,
vulgar, but never indecent or the Mounties would close it
down. The faro tables, the girls in Paradise Alley, the howling
of dogs, the drunks, the losers and the winners, they were
all there in Beth's music, and Jack had never been more
proud of her.
He looked at her up on the stage, head bent over her
fiddle, dark curls tumbling down her back, her slender body
moving sensuously with the music. He reali2ed she'd grown
from a pretty girl into a beautiful woman in the years he'd
known her, without him noticing the changes.
As the piece ended and Beth lowered her bow, the audience
went wild. Those sitting leapt up, stamping their feet,
clapping their hands and cheering. On and on it went,
everyone calling for an encore. But Beth smiled and shook
her head, mouthed her thanks to the audience for she
couldn't be heard above the applause, and turned to leave
the stage.
Jack understood why. That composition of her own had
drained her. All the pain, hardships, joys and delights were
in it. She couldn't surpass it, and didn't even want to try.

They couldn't leave Dawson the following day as they'd
hoped, for all the boats were fully booked, but Jack managed
to get them a first-class cabin on the Maybelline on 3 August,
in five days' time.
The following afternoon, while out on her own buying a
few things she needed, Beth spotted Dolores, who used to
work in the Golden Nugget, coming out of a grocery shop.
She was heavily pregnant.

When she saw Beth she came running over, almost
breathless with excitement at seeing her. 'I was so worried
about you when you disappeared. No one seemed to know
where you'd gone!' she exclaimed.
'I went off to Bonanza to stay with Jack,' Beth explained.
'I'd had enough of Dawson. But what about you? Where
did you go after the Nugget burned down?'
Dolores laughed. 'That fire was a lucky break for me. I
met Sol that night, he was one of the firemen. He took me
back to his place and we've been together ever since.'
They chatted for some time, Beth telling her that she and
Jack were going off to Vancouver. Dolores said she helped
out in the laundry, and Sol was building an extra room on
to their cabin for the baby.
'So when is it due?' Beth asked, pleased to hear it had all
worked out for the girl.
'Well, the doctor thinks it's going to be in November,'
Dolores said. 'But we can't be sure of the date cos I can't
remember when I had my last do-da.'
Beth smiled at Dolores' name for menstruation. Having
ascertained that Sol appeared to be delighted he was going
to be a father and that Dolores was well and happy, she said
goodbye and went back to the Fairview.
Thinking over their conversation as she walked, it suddenly
occurred to Beth that she hadn't had a do-da either
for some time. She could remember having one soon after
she got to Jack's, and a second one which must have been
a month later in early June, but nothing since then.
Because she'd been told back in Montreal that she'd never
get pregnant again, she'd had no reason to expect or want
any man to be careful, and it certainly never occurred to her
that the doctor could have been wrong.
Back in the room at the Fairview, she looked carefully at

herself in the mirror. She could see nothing different about
herself, she certainly didn't feel any different either, yet she
was over a month late. What if she was pregnant?
She closed her eyes and held her stomach, wishing with
all her heart that she was. To have Jack's baby would be the
very best thing in the whole world.
But she said nothing to him when he returned. She needed
to be sure first, and as he'd run into some old friends that
afternoon and was full of their news, it was easy for her to
hide her excitement.
The following day, Jack went off to help someone build
a new cabin, and Beth tried to put the thought of a baby
right out of her mind by going to visit some old friends. But
it didn't work; whether it was just the power of suggestion,
or for real, her breasts felt tender, and she'd even had a
touch of nausea in the morning. She chatted and laughed as
she visited people, but foremost in her mind was how happy
Jack was going to be when it was confirmed.
On the evening of the 31st, a rumour ran round Dawson
that gold had been found in Nome on the Bering Sea in
Alaska.
Beth and Jack first heard about it from a fellow guest
who'd just received a telegraph from a friend somewhere
nearby. They thought nothing of it, for there had been a
rumour about another new gold strike back in January, and
many men had rushed off to it, some of them so ill prepared
they got frostbite, only to find it was a hoax.
But when they walked down Front Street later, everyone
was talking about it. In the saloon they went into, men were
saying that the gold was just lying on the beach waiting to
be picked up, and all of them were intending to leave for
Nome as soon as they could get a passage.
The rumour spread like wildfire, and suddenly all the men

with vacant expressions who had been spending their days
lounging around on the boardwalk had that old familiar fire
in their eyes.
Jack found it very funny. He roared with laughter when
an old Sourdough stopped him in Front Street to ask if he'd
be going. 'Not me,' he said. 'I've had enough of gold fever
to last me a lifetime. I just want to go home with my girl.'
The following day, the whole town was buzzing with
excitement. People were fighting to get on to boats, and
when they couldn't get tickets were commandeering pole
and row boats to sail themselves.
Jack seemed to find the whole thing very disturbing, and
said he was going off for a tramp up the hills. Before he left,
he peeled off five hundred dollars from their stash of money
and suggested Beth went to Madame Aubert to buy something
smart and fashionable to wear in Vancouver.
The Frenchwoman was a marvellous dressmaker, but she
also had ready-made clothes in her shop that were the latest
fashions from Paris.
'I can't buy something there,' Beth said in horror. 'She's
too expensive.'
Jack laughed. 'We're rich now, and all your clothes will
look very shabby in Vancouver. Besides, with so many
people leaving for Nome, I bet you can beat her down in
price.'
Beth wanted a new dress, but she told Jack five hundred
dollars was far too much to give her.
'You hang on to it,' he said. 'You'll need shoes and other
things too.'

Jack was a little distant over dinner that evening. Beth had
found a lovely costume at Madame Aubert's, a dark green
and cream striped peplum-style jacket with a matching plain

green skirt, and a little green hat with a veil. She was excited
about it, and all the gossip she'd got from the Frenchwoman,
and she felt rather disappointed that Jack wasn't more
receptive.
She had a couple of glasses of whisky after the meal and
it went straight to her head. She could barely stand, and Jack
helped her up to the room and into bed.
'I think I'll go out for a bit of a wander and see what's
going on,' he said. 'It's too early for me to go to sleep. Sweet
dreams.'

Beth was woken abruptly in the morning by noise in the
street below. But to her surprise she was alone in the bed.
She got up and looked out of the window to see what the
noise was about, only to see hundreds and hundreds of men
with packs on their backs heading down to the landing stage.
It was just like it had been two years ago in Vancouver,
and she assumed Jack had slipped out quietly to watch. But
when she looked back at the bed, it didn't look as if he'd
slept there. No indentation on the pillow, and the sheets
and blankets were still tucked in on his side.
Yet even more curious was that his new suit was hanging
on the back of the chair, his best boots beside it. He must've
come back here last night when she was asleep and changed
into his old clothes.
She looked in the closet and saw his bag of tools was
gone too. Jack had always been a sucker for a hard luck
story, and if someone had asked for his help last night,
he would've found it hard to refuse. But what she didn't
understand was why, if he came back here for old clothes
and his tools, he hadn't either woken her to tell her where
he was going or left her a note.
She felt nauseous again, but decided that was due to

W

hunger, and went downstairs to have some breakfast, hoping
there might be a note from Jack at the reception desk.
But there was no note, and she had to rush out of the
dining room to be sick after just smelling the coffee.
Back in the room, she sat by the open window looking
down at the men trooping past the hotel, and suddenly her
heart contracted with fear. Could Jack have left for Nome?
That seemed an absurd thought, for he'd shown nothing
more than amusement and curiosity about the gold strike.
He'd even said that if prospecting for gold here was hard, it
would be even worse there, for Nome was almost in the
Arctic Circle.
Yet a cold chill ran down her spine, for this whole town
wouldn't exist but for the irrationality and greed which gold
brought out in men. She couldn't even say that there was
only one kind who would succumb to the lure of it, for she
knew they came from every walk of life, and honest, decent
men were far more common than crooks and swindlers.
She also knew that how much money a man already had
made no difference, for she'd seen men with fortunes lose
it all at the turn of a card. Theo had his dream come true
when he got the Golden Nugget, yet he'd sold it behind her
back and disappeared with the money. Why should she think
Jack was any different?
She turned from the window and looked at the bed.
They'd put the money in a cloth bag under the mattress
after they got it from the bank. Jack had only kept back
about a thousand dollars, and five hundred of that he'd
given to her. If the bag was gone, so was he, just like Theo.
Shaking with nerves, she gingerly approached the bed and
lifted the mattress. She slid her hand under it, but could feel
nothing. An involuntary cry of despair came from deep
within her. She ran her hands right round the bed, and on

finding nothing, grabbed the mattress and tossed it on to
the floor. But there was nothing beneath it, just the thin
horsehair padding above the springs.

The shock made her reel, for however much she had
rationalized that Jack was no different to other men, in her
heart she'd felt he could never do anything so low.

He'd claimed he didn't come here for the gold, only to
be near her, and she'd believed that.

The betrayal was too much to bear, far worse than what
Theo had done, for she'd always known he was a wild card.
But Honest Jack, the man she had trusted implicitly for so
many years, her comforter, her friend, how could he do this
to her?

Sobbing hysterically, she flung herself down on to the
bedding. She remembered how he'd pressed those five hundred
dollars into her hands and said she couldn't arrive in
Vancouver looking like a pauper.

The rat must have been planning his escape then, and
only gave her that money to salve his conscience so she
wouldn't be utterly destitute.

How could he do that to her?

Beth lay crying on the heap of bedding for hours. As the
tickets were still there on the dressing table it seemed obvious
to her that Jack wanted her to leave on the boat in the
morning. That way he'd be free to go with that deranged
brotherhood of men who would rather spend their lives in
stinking shacks in remote places, dreaming of finding gold,
than have a wife and family who loved them.
She relived the past few weeks, trying to see if she'd ignored
something which might have been a hint that Jack wasn't as
deeply committed to her as she'd believed him to be.
There was the moment when she said she loved him and
he had stalled on saying he loved her too. Yet at the time
she'd thought that was just teasing.
She knew he had been happy out in Bonanza, but perhaps
she'd been presumptuous to think he could be happier still
living with her in the Outside. Now she came to think of it,
he hadn't ever talked about how he intended to make a
living when they left Dawson.
His silence on the boat trip to Dawson looked suspicious
now too. She'd thought he was merely stunned by Oz giving
him the money, but what if it was because he felt he was
being drawn into a trap?
That seemed laughable, but maybe to a man who liked a
simple life well away from others, the prospect of living in
a real house, surrounded by staid, respectable people, was a
living death.
Yet surely he knew he could voice such fears to her? So

perhaps it was in the Monte Carlo that he began drawing
back? When Percy Turnball spoke of her being a legend,
perhaps Jack was afraid he would always be in her shadow?
That he would be expected to mould himself around her
playing, and never again be able to choose how he wanted
to live?
But why would he think that? She thought she'd made it
plain enough that she didn't care about anything other than
him. Even playing her fiddle was secondary; she was just
as happy playing for him alone and no longer craved an
audience.
Would he have gone if she'd told him she thought she
was carrying his child?

In the early evening Beth's pride roused her from the floor.
'If he'd rather be scrabbling around in the Arctic with a
bunch of half-wits than going off on the boat to Vancouver
with me, then that's his funeral,' she said to herself.
She slung the mattress back on to the bed and threw the
covers over it, washed her face in the basin and scowled at
her swollen eyes.
You will not cry any more,' she told her image in the
mirror. 'You'll go down to the dining room, eat a good meal,
then pack your things ready for tomorrow. You won't let
anyone see you care that he's gone.'

'I'd like someone to help me to the boat with my luggage,
please,' Beth asked the hotel manager as she paid the bill
the following morning.
The lobby was full of people departing for Nome, and
though hardly any of them looked capable of braving an
Arctic winter, they appeared to be following like sheep
because so many others were leaving.

'Of course, Miss Bolton,' the manager said, smiling slimily
at her. 'Mr Child will be meeting you there?'
'Yes, he will. He's been called away on business,' she said,
smarting because the weasel had made a point of calling her
Miss Bolton to show he knew she wasn't married to Jack.
She had packed Jack's new clothes, for if she'd left them
in the room that would make it obvious she'd been abandoned,
but she thought the manager knew that already, and
was relishing her distress.
The bellboy walked behind her along Front Street with
the luggage on a small handcart. The street was packed with
people departing Dawson, and she guessed the boat would
be grossly overcrowded as captains were like everyone else,
only too happy to make a fast buck. But at least all the extra
people would only be going as far as St Michael before
jumping off to find some other way of reaching their
destination.
Beth kept her head up high as she walked along. She
might have a broken heart, but she knew she looked good
in her new costume, with her hair pinned up under her hat.
Yet all the same she dreaded seeing anyone she knew, for
they were bound to ask where Jack was.
The Maybelline was a small but sturdy-looking steamer and
relatively new, unlike most of the boats that had beenI
pressed into service during the previous year. One of the
crew took Beth's luggage and showed her to her cabin which1
was up on the top deck. It was tiny, with only a foot of
floor space next to the bunks, but as she'd seen how crowded
it was down on the lower two decks, she didn't care. Putting
her luggage on the bottom bunk, she climbed on to the
upper one and lay there watching the scene on the wharf
through the tiny porthole.
If she hadn't felt so miserable, she might have laughed to

see people fighting to reach the front of the queue for
tickets, then trying to bribe the crew to get them aboard.
She didn't understand their desperation. Only people you
loved were worth fighting for. She'd certainly have fought
tooth and nail to save Sam, and turned her back on a fortune
if it had meant Molly could stay alive and well back in
England.
The boat was juddering with the sound of hobnailed
boots stomping across its deck. Outside her cabin she could
hear a man with a booming voice complaining that his cabin
was too small, and the crew member responding by telling
him in no uncertain terms that if he didn't like it he could
get off the boat and he'd sell his tickets to someone else for
double.
A woman's voice piped up then, saying it was a disgrace
that the boat was so overcrowded. She got a similar reply
to the one given to the male complainant.
Beth got down off the bunk when she heard the steam
horn blast out to hurry the last stragglers on board. She felt
she had to take one last look at the place which two years
earlier she'd set off for with such excitement.
The window was only a square foot of glass and it didn't
open, so her view was limited only to what was directly in
front of it: just a group of young men with kitbags, heavy
coats and shovels, still hoping they might be allowed on at
the last minute. Behind them was a saloon, the fancy carved
decoration on its facade suggesting the interior would be
equally lavish. But it was a false image; inside it was little
better than a shed, and tears welled up in Beth's eyes for it
seemed to symbolize how she'd been suckered into believing
Jack was the real thing. She had believed he had no false
facade, no tricks or cons. Honest Jack, a man she could
depend on, who could be her friend, her love, her everything.

She was certain now that his baby was growing inside
her, for she'd felt that nausea again as soon as she smelled
coffee this morning. She knew she would love the baby
despite Jack's betrayal. Perhaps in time she would even
forgive him. But she also knew she would never trust
another man, not for as long as she lived.
Her view was out of focus because her eyes were swimming.
She saw a man running behind the men in the queue,
and although she only saw him for a brief second, she had
the fleeting impression that he was tall, with dark hair.
Her heart leapt involuntarily, yet she turned away from the
window, irritated that she could imagine it was Jack.
But then she heard shouting and she pricked up her ears,
for the man yelling that his wife had his ticket sounded just
like Jack.
She was out through the cabin door and running down
the steps to the crowded lower deck like the wind. There
were passengers and luggage taking up every inch of space,
but beyond them she could see the crew had already pulled
in the gangplank and cast off, and on the wharf, with the
boat moving slowly away from it, was Jack, red-faced and
furious.
'That's my husband,' she shouted, jumping over cases
and kitbags and pushing people aside. 'Let him on, please!'
The crew looked round at her in surprise. Jack took a few
steps back, then ran forward and leapt out to the boat.
There was a united gasp from all the passengers on the
lower deck, for the gap between boat and wharf was widening
fast.
Beth clamped her hand over her mouth, for it seemed
that Jack was suspended in space and would surely land in
the water. But he landed on the boat with less than an inch
to spare, falling forward on to his knees.

He was filthy and unshaven, but to Beth he looked
wonderful. She ran forward, arms outstretched to hug him.
'Thank God I made it,' he panted as she ran to him. 'You
would've thought I'd run out on you!'
Ten minutes later in their cabin, Jack was still breathless.
'I had to go to see to Oz,' he wheezed out. 'He'd been
attacked. Willy the Whistle couldn't get him in his boat.'
It was some little time before he got his breath back to
explain fully. He was on his way back to the hotel the night
he'd left her to go for a wander, when Willy the Whisde (so
named because he played a penny whistle), an old-timer
who'd been panning for gold around Dawson for years
before the stampede began, shouted for him to stop.
Earlier in the evening, Willy had been in his cabin in the
woods, some four or five miles from Oz's claim, when he
heard dogs barking and scraping at the door. He recognized
them immediately. as Flash and Silver, and knowing that
they'd come for help, he followed them through the woods.
About a mile away he found Oz lying in the undergrowth,
badly beaten up, barely conscious and bleeding from a knife
wound in his chest.
Willy was only a small man, and though he managed to
rig up a rough stretcher and, with the dogs pulling it, succeeded
in getting Oz to his cabin, he knew he didn't have
the strength to get Oz down to his boat and into it. So he
shoved an old towel into Oz's wound, gave him some
whisky, and leaving him with his dogs to guard him, rowed
into Dawson to' get help.
Jack explained that he came back to the hotel to change
into his old clothes, but as he was in such a hurry and
expected to be back by morning anyway, he didn't think to
leave a note or even wake Beth.
When he and Willy got back to the cabin it was still dark,

but on examining Oz Jack felt that moving him into the
boat to take him to hospital might kill him. So he patched
him up as best he could, and sent Willy off again to get a
doctor while he stayed there.
'I told him to go and tell you where I was,' Jack said. 'But
the idiot drank the best part of a bottle of whisky on the
way, fell asleep and drifted past Dawson. I was stuck out at
Willy's cabin, with no boat to go for help, and I couldn't
leave Oz anyway. By the time Willy had woken up, nearly
killed himself rowing back to Dawson against the current
and got a doctor, it was late last night. The doctor came out
in his own boat with another man at first light. I came back
here with them. Once Oz was in the hospital, I ran round
to the Fairview, but you'd already left.'
'I thought you'd left me and gone to Nome,' she blurted
out. She was ashamed now that she'd doubted him, for the
blood and dirt on his clothes and his exhaustion were ample
evidence that he was telling her the truth.
'How could you think that?' he exclaimed, his eyes full of
hurt. 'Surely you know you are the most important thing in
the world to me? I wouldn't trade you for a ton of gold.
I love you, Beth.'
'But you'd taken your tool bag and the money,' she said
weakly. 'What else was there to think?'
'I took my tools in case I needed them,' he said. 'But I
didn't take the money. That was in the safe at the Fairview.'
He put his hand into his shirt and pulled out the money
bag. 'I put it in the safe after I gave you the money for your
dress. Word had got around about Oz giving it to me. I was
afraid we'd be robbed.'
'The manager didn't tell me,' she said.
Jack shook his head in disbelief. 'That arsewipe,' he
hissed. 'Bet he hoped I wouldn't come back and he could

keep it. He looked surprised to see me. I ran like the wind
from there, no time to even wash myself. And I can't even
hug you now to make up for it all, I'll mess up your nice
outfit.'
'I can get water for you to wash, and I brought your
clothes with me because I didn't want everyone to find out
you'd run out on me.'
Jack smiled. 'Run out on you! If I'd had to swim to catch
up with the boat I would have.'
Beth felt all the tension and hurt inside her fading away.
'How is Oz now?'
'He'll pull through. The chest wound needed stitching,
and the Mounties will be rounding up the blokes who did
it. Luckily he'd left all his money in the bank here at Dawson,
and he'd even put the nuggets I found in a bag and tied
them to Flash's collar.'
'But why didn't the dogs defend Oz?' she asked.
'Willy and I were mystified by that too. But Oz came
round enough on the way to hospital to tell us he'd been
drinking with two blokes he thought were pals, in their
cabin, which was about a mile from Willy's. He tied the
dogs up outside. I guess the men thought Oz had the money
on him, and greed made them set about him. But they
scarpered when they didn't find anything on him, and Oz
crawled out and let the dogs loose.'
'Some pals!' she exclaimed. 'If the dogs hadn't been so
clever he might have died out there.'

Beth got a bucket of water for Jack to wash, and once he
was clean he hugged and kissed her. 'I'd like to show you
just how much I love you,' he said softly. 'But after two
nights without any sleep I don't think I could prove my
point'

Leaving him to sleep, Beth went out on the top deck to
watch the river. She had been told that Yukon was the
Indian name for 'Greatest' and she thought it was well
named, for it was over 2,000 miles long, ranging from deep
and narrow stretches through canyons and sharp bends, to
miles wide where it slopped over flat land. The glacial water
was so cold in the rapids that if a man fell in he would die
from that alone, or be sucked to the bottom in minutes by
its strong and deadly current.
But it was so beautiful too, sometimes emerald green,
sometimes turquoise. Caribou and moose waded in its shallows,
ducks and geese idled in its more placid water, and
swallows nested in its banks. Yet she had loved it in winter
too, when the ice was four feet thick and she and Jack had
sped along its bumpy surface on a sledge, with Flash and
Silver pulling them.
She looked around at the other passengers sitting on the
decks, squashed up with their luggage, and felt sad for them
that they weren't seeing the beauty of this country, only
craving the riches they could take from it.
Coming here had been a complete education. A lifetime
in England or even New York would never have tested her,
pummelled or taught her as much as the two years spent
here. She could live without comfort now, make a meal out
of anything, knew that the human body could endure far
more than anyone would suppose.
But the greatest, most important thing of all, and she'd
only realized she'd learned it today, was the knowledge of
who she was and that she was capable of being independent.
She had been horrified and terribly saddened by the thought
that Jack had run off and left her, yet she hadn't been
frightened of the prospect of coping alone.
Last night as she packed her bags she felt that was it, the

sad end of a chapter, and there was nothing for it but to go
on to a new one. She knew that when she arrived in Vancouver,
she was capable of getting herself a place to live,
and work. She wouldn't have crumbled because she was
alone.
Even the prospect of bringing their child up alone hadn't
frightened her. She might have chosen to call herself Mrs
for convention's sake, but not because she was ashamed.
She was a musician, and a good one, and she would always
get work somewhere.
She was of course overjoyed and relieved that Jack had
turned up. But in a way she was glad she'd had this chance
to discover she had grown into a strong, dignified and
capable woman.
'When should I tell him about the baby?' she murmured
to herself, putting her hand under her jacket on to her
stomach. She was certain there was one, but perhaps it
would be better to wait until a doctor had confirmed it.

Jack didn't wake until the daylight was fading. He opened
his eyes as Beth came into the cabin and smiled.
'Feeling better?' she asked, bending over to stroke his
face.
'I am now I'm with you,' he said, taking her hand in his
and kissing it. 'I got a fright thinking you were going without
me. I wouldn't have got another boat for days and I would
have had no way of contacting you.'
'And I wouldn't have been meeting every boat in the
hope you were on it,' she said teasingly.
He smiled, studying her face. 'I would have tracked you
down eventually. I'd have run round Vancouver putting
up posters saying, "Missing! Fiddle-playing Gypsy Queen.
Reward given for information".'

"What are we going to do when we get there?' she asked,
gently pushing him over so she could sit on the bunk with
him.

'Whatever you want to do,' he replied. 'We could get
another boat down to California to be warm all winter. New
York, Philadelphia, Constantinople, Paris or Rome, we can
go anywhere we fancy. What do you want to do?'

'Just to be with you,' she said. 'In a warm, quiet house
with a proper kitchen and a bathroom. I want you at home
with me every evening.'

He looked at her quizzically. 'No grandiose plans for
another saloon? A shop, a boarding house?'

She shook her head.

'But you've got something up your sleeve? I can sense it!'

'Maybe,' she said, lying down beside him and wrapping
her arms around him. 'But for now there's just the two of
us, scrunched up in this tiny bunk, so we should make the
most of it.'

I would like to thank all those who helped me in my research
into the Klondike Gold Rush.
Malcolm Latchem was a great help with background
information about violin playing and the folk music of this
period. Thank you, Malcolm, you made me wish I'd persisted
with learning the violin beyond 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little
Star'.
A big thank you to Patrick Griffin of Wexus Travellers'
Club, who made all my travel arrangements for the complicated
journey following in the footsteps of my heroine to
Alaska and on to Dawson City in Canada. His knowledge,
enthusiasm and sense of humour made it seem a much less
daunting trip.
I read every book I could get my hands on about the
Gold Rush and its characters, but the two which stood out
over all the others were by Pierre Berton, Canada's leading historian. Klondike, the Last Great Gold Rush, 1868--1899, was simply marvellous. Exciting, fantastically descriptive, a book
everyone should read to get the full picture of the madness
of gold fever. The Klondike Quest, also by Berton, is a photographic
essay of the same story. With fabulous photographs
along with the narrative, you can almost feel you were there.
Special thanks to Bombay Peggy's, the one-time brothel
I stayed at in Dawson City, which managed to re-create the
decadence and naughty aspects of how it was once, with
twenty-first century comfort and a warm welcome.
I never managed to get the names of that wonderful

bunch of Aussies I fell in with on my first night in Dawson.
I have photos of you all and lovely memories, so I just hope
one of you remembered my name and bought the book.
You'll know who you are, so get in touch!

Last but not least, my thanks to Mari Evans, my editor,
for her boundless enthusiasm and editing skills. Love you,
Mari!