Read Online Kitty Peck and the Music Hall Murders by Kate Griffin - Free Book Online
Authors: Kate Griffin
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turned to page seven. Lucca had to explain to me what effulgence meant and I thought it was a lovely thing to say, quite the sort of word that Joey might have used.
At least there was one thing that made Fitzy happy – the takings.
Every evening now, queues formed in the streets outside the halls where I performed. I had thought that the success of that first night was down to Fitzy’s theatricals with his whispers on the street, the black cover over the cage and all that malarkey, but I was wrong. No, the punters knew what they were getting all right, and they were wild for it. Fitzy had my cage illuminated by strategically positioned limelight flares, and, as the customers filed in, I fluttered about a bit and I gave out as good as I got when they called up to me.
Most of them were respectful, but just occasionally you’d get a drunken Johnny with a really filthy mouth on him. Although there was no love lost between me and the old bugger, I’ll admit I was grateful when I saw Fitzy’s barrel of a body bumping a half-cut heckler up the aisle and out through the curtains. It didn’t do for a girl in my position to get a reputation. Joey had always been very clear on that.
For some reason, the spot just under my cage was particularly popular. Most nights I’d look down and see all these calf-faced ninnies staring up at me. Generally they just looked, but sometimes I caught sight of the odd dirty bleeder fetching mettle. What they was doing with their hands turned me over. I wondered what would happen if The Limehouse Linnet brought the fatty chops she’d had for her dinner up over their greasy little heads, but I reflected that it probably wouldn’t be good for trade. No, when that happened I just concentrated hard on my purity and effulgence. Now I knew what they were.
We soon discovered that there was no point in anyone else going on before me. Mrs Conway was right put out and I don’t think Dismal Jimmy was too pleased about it neither. The regulars turned quite mutinous until they saw their pay packets, but what could you do? If a punter came into the hall and saw me hanging up there in my little bits of sparkled stuff, he wasn’t going to sit through a dog act, a sentimental serenade, a magician and a puppet routine before getting stuck into the main course.
Fitzy worked out that if I opened the evening and closed it a couple of hours later, then everyone (except Mrs Conway) went home happy – ’specially if the chorus came on in the middle and did a nymph routine.
That gave me a lot of time every night to watch from my cage, not that it did much good.
By the time I was due to start at the third of Lady Ginger’s halls, The Comet, exactly two weeks after that first night, it wasn’t only Jenny Pierce who’d gone missing. Another girl – just fourteen years old – had disappeared from The Gaudy, right under my very cage.
Chapter Eight
Lucca threw another shovel of coal onto the fire. His room, under the bony eaves of a tall, gloomy house just a street away from the river, was damp and always cold, even at the height of summer. Now it was January and the cobbles outside were crusted with hoar frost thicker than a man’s finger. I took his coat off the bed and wrapped it round me.
‘I don’t know why you don’t try to find yourself somewhere better than this,’ I complained. ‘It’s cold enough in here to freeze a duck’s arse.’
Lucca wrinkled his nose and threw another, very small, nugget of coal into the grate. After a moment he turned to look at me. I was sitting as near to the hearth as possible with my back against his bed.
‘You have become coarse since you have become famous.’ He pushed his long dark hair back so that I could see the scarred half of his face in the firelight and he narrowed his gaze. ‘You never used to feel the chill in here, Kitty. But that was before you dressed as a . . .’
He stopped and pursed his lips, but he continued to stare at me, the fingers of
At least there was one thing that made Fitzy happy – the takings.
Every evening now, queues formed in the streets outside the halls where I performed. I had thought that the success of that first night was down to Fitzy’s theatricals with his whispers on the street, the black cover over the cage and all that malarkey, but I was wrong. No, the punters knew what they were getting all right, and they were wild for it. Fitzy had my cage illuminated by strategically positioned limelight flares, and, as the customers filed in, I fluttered about a bit and I gave out as good as I got when they called up to me.
Most of them were respectful, but just occasionally you’d get a drunken Johnny with a really filthy mouth on him. Although there was no love lost between me and the old bugger, I’ll admit I was grateful when I saw Fitzy’s barrel of a body bumping a half-cut heckler up the aisle and out through the curtains. It didn’t do for a girl in my position to get a reputation. Joey had always been very clear on that.
For some reason, the spot just under my cage was particularly popular. Most nights I’d look down and see all these calf-faced ninnies staring up at me. Generally they just looked, but sometimes I caught sight of the odd dirty bleeder fetching mettle. What they was doing with their hands turned me over. I wondered what would happen if The Limehouse Linnet brought the fatty chops she’d had for her dinner up over their greasy little heads, but I reflected that it probably wouldn’t be good for trade. No, when that happened I just concentrated hard on my purity and effulgence. Now I knew what they were.
We soon discovered that there was no point in anyone else going on before me. Mrs Conway was right put out and I don’t think Dismal Jimmy was too pleased about it neither. The regulars turned quite mutinous until they saw their pay packets, but what could you do? If a punter came into the hall and saw me hanging up there in my little bits of sparkled stuff, he wasn’t going to sit through a dog act, a sentimental serenade, a magician and a puppet routine before getting stuck into the main course.
Fitzy worked out that if I opened the evening and closed it a couple of hours later, then everyone (except Mrs Conway) went home happy – ’specially if the chorus came on in the middle and did a nymph routine.
That gave me a lot of time every night to watch from my cage, not that it did much good.
By the time I was due to start at the third of Lady Ginger’s halls, The Comet, exactly two weeks after that first night, it wasn’t only Jenny Pierce who’d gone missing. Another girl – just fourteen years old – had disappeared from The Gaudy, right under my very cage.
Chapter Eight
Lucca threw another shovel of coal onto the fire. His room, under the bony eaves of a tall, gloomy house just a street away from the river, was damp and always cold, even at the height of summer. Now it was January and the cobbles outside were crusted with hoar frost thicker than a man’s finger. I took his coat off the bed and wrapped it round me.
‘I don’t know why you don’t try to find yourself somewhere better than this,’ I complained. ‘It’s cold enough in here to freeze a duck’s arse.’
Lucca wrinkled his nose and threw another, very small, nugget of coal into the grate. After a moment he turned to look at me. I was sitting as near to the hearth as possible with my back against his bed.
‘You have become coarse since you have become famous.’ He pushed his long dark hair back so that I could see the scarred half of his face in the firelight and he narrowed his gaze. ‘You never used to feel the chill in here, Kitty. But that was before you dressed as a . . .’
He stopped and pursed his lips, but he continued to stare at me, the fingers of
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