William Monk 14 - The Shifting Tide

look after me,” she said raspingly. “Get this whore out of here!”
    “Who are you callin’ an ’ore? Yer nothin’ but a fancy slut yerself, fer all yer airs!” Flo retorted. “That’s ’cos yer lies wi’ sailors—does that make yer summink diff’rent? Well, it don’t. Yer an ’ore, jus’ like the rest o’ us. An’ keep a civil tongue in yer ’ead an’ speak nice ter Mrs. Monk, wot’s keepin’ yer from dyin’ in the gutter where yer belong, or I’ll fetch a bucket o’ slops an’ toss it right back at yer, yer manky bitch.”
    “I’m sure you have plenty of slops to spare,” Ruth said icily. “You smell as if you bathe in them.”
    “Silence!” Hester raised her voice sharply.
    But it was to no effect. Flo lost her temper and hurled herself forward onto the bed, landing on Ruth, then raising her hand to hit her.
    Hester grabbed at it, catching it almost across her own face, and was dragged forward and off balance half onto the floor. Both Flo and Ruth were still cursing each other, but Ruth had no strength to lash back physically.
    It was at that moment that Bessie burst in, saw the scene, and charged across to pick Flo up bodily, swing around with her, and drop her on the floor.
    “Wot the bleedin’ ’ell d’yer think yer doin’, yer crazy lard arse?” she yelled, first at Flo. Then, turning on Ruth, she went on. “An’ as fer you, yer spotty slag, you mind yer tongue or I’ll put yer out inter the gutter, money or no money! In’t surprisin’ yer lover threw yer out, yer iggerant mare! Yer got a mouth on yer like a midden! One more order out o’ yer an’ I’ll throw yer out meself. Just shut yer face, y’ear me?”
    There was total silence.
    Slowly, Hester climbed to her feet. “Thank you, Bessie,” she said gravely. She stared at the woman in the bed. Ruth was flushed and weak, but her eyes were spitting venom. “Miss Clark, go back to sleep. Bessie will come to see you in a while. Flo! You come with me!” And seizing Flo by the arm, she strode out, half dragging her along, down the stairs and into the kitchen before she spoke again. “Kettle!” she commanded. “Make some tea.”
    “In’t surprised ’e threw ’er out, the turd,” Flo retorted, but she did as she was told. “Din’t give yer much of a kip, did she! Ungrateful trollop!” She took the kettle from the stove. “Thinks ’cos one man keeps ’er, not twenty, that she’s suffink special! Talks like she was a lady—she’s a common slut, like the rest of us.”
    “Probably,” Hester agreed, too tired to care what the fight was about this time. It had been thirty-five minutes since she lay down on the bed upstairs. She felt as if she could have slept on the kitchen table—or the floor, for that matter.
    “An’ yer got rats,” Flo called, pouring water out of the pail into the kettle. “Yer’ll ’ave ter get the rat catcher in. D’yer know one?”
    “Of course I do,” Hester said wearily. “I’ll send a message to Sutton in the morning.”
    “I’ll take it,” Flo offered. “Yer don’t want no more tea, or yer’ll be up an’ down all night like a dancer’s knees.”
    “What
night
?” Hester responded bitterly.
    Bessie came into the room, her hair restored to its tight knot at the back of her head and her face scrubbed and ready for business.
    “I’ll go an’ see ’er in a couple of hours,” she announced, looking at Hester. “Me an’ Flo’ll take care o’ the rest o’ the night.” She glared at Flo. “In’t that right?”
    “Yeah,” Flo agreed, grinning at Hester and showing several gaps in her teeth. “I won’t kill ’er, ’onest! Swear on me mother’s grave!”
    “Yer ma in’t dead,” Bessie growled.
    Flo shrugged and put the kettle onto the stove, then bent to open the range and poke the coals to make them burn. “Yer need more coke,” she said with a sniff. “S’pose that’s why yer ’as ter take that kind o’ pig.”
    Hester went back upstairs with profound gratitude, and sank into a dreamless sleep until nearly seven o’clock, when the day’s duties began. Mercifully, when she looked in on Ruth, she seemed to be quietly asleep, hot but not delirious, and breathing fairly well.
    Downstairs in the kitchen, Bessie was making gruel for those who were well enough to eat, and Flo was asleep in one of the chairs, her head fallen forward onto the table.
             
    When Margaret arrived shortly after ten o’clock, she took one look