Creative Writing yeah!
Jessica was no stranger to unfriendly streets. Furthermore, contrary to Sir Chad’s opinion of the matter, Berner Street was far more friendly and comforting to her than any marble clad manor stricken avenue Ladbroke Grove had to offer. That is not to say she wasn’t happy to exist in both worlds. It was a difference of colours, really. It was green and white versus brown and grey and to Jessica they each held unique qualities. But she was wary of her husbands warning to her, whispered quietly under a tree on the heath that afternoon.
“I wish you wouldn’t go alone.” He’d said. She responded by kissing the top of his forehead where his black hair met the first of his worry lines. This was the beginning and end of the argument, but it was enough to satisfy them both on the matter. Chad and Jess were equals in the arts of bickering and would have happily spent the eminent sunset arguing about the most trivial and ridiculous subjects and have a lovely time doing so. But when it came to issues of a more serious nature, they could read each other well enough to know when they were at an impasse and no amount of arguing or persuasion would change it.
Now it would seem to the outside observer that Jessica had won this tiniest of arguments. After all, moments later she kissed him properly and said she would meet him at home and he stood there and waited till she was completely gone from sight before he started packing up the remains of their picnic. But Chad and Jess were equals and he knew how to get what he wanted as well. No sooner had Jessica turned from him to walk down the hill, his few well chosen words began a chant in her head that would continue for the rest of the evening.
I wish you wouldn’t go alone.
Well, Jessica wished he hadn’t said anything at all because now she was on edge. She would have happily turned around right that very instant and let him come with her and hold her hand as she made her way eastward. In every other instance he would have been by her side seeing what she saw and knowing what she knew. But some things in life must be done alone and this was one of them. It was dangerous, of course, seemingly more so now than ever before. The entire city of London knew why that was. She kept walking despite all of it because she had to. She didn’t have room to lose herself in deciding whether her actions were selfless and brave or careless and stupid. Chad’s well chosen words had sent her imagination spinning out of control. She stood on the threshold of the East End in the sunset shadow of St. Mary’s Church full of caution and nerves, completely alert and on guard. This is of course exactly what Sir Chad had intended.
These were not the streets of Jessica’s childhood but they were interchangeable. All seedy neighbourhoods are at heart the same, the same noises, and smells and sounds and people. These things were familiar to her, but the change from green to brown, white to grey changed her as well. The softness retreated and her cheekbones grew sharp, her eyes turned black and piercing and quick. Her steps picked up the rhythm she worried she might have forgotten having gotten so very accustomed to strolling. She was a child of the streets once more all sinew and bone and full of the task at hand. She kept her head down and pressed onward.
She got to Berner Street in record time which pleased her until she realized it meant she would now have to stand there and idly wait for Lizzy to arrive. Jessica suddenly found herself in an uncommon and uncomfortable situation. She was without a plan. So she began to make one up. She could go into a local public house to sit inside and wait then decided that would be even more dangerous considering how she was dressed. A well dressed, unescorted woman entering the Frying Pan this time of night would surely turn some heads and any attention at all in this part of town was a bad idea. She drew up and laid out several plans of escape should trouble come looking for her while she waited.
Time passed this way; Jessica found new creative and horrible ways of meeting her untimely demise finding it more and more difficult to construct viable means of escape as the streets grew quieter and the rush of people heading for home grew to a small trickle and then stopped. Where was Liz? Did she write down the wrong place or time? Was it Sunday? Or had she lost track of days? No, it must be Sunday because she’d just come from a Sunday picnic. Liz was not always on time but she’d never been this late before.
I wish you wouldn’t go alone.
Jessica buried her panic and willed herself invisible as the walk of the passers by grew increasingly unsteady. What point was there in panicking? She was used to these streets; she’d done this many times before. She knew where she was and how to get out if she needed to. She was a tough old girl, a child of the streets. She’d seen far worse things than a dark alley in her lifetime. But something here was wrong. Something was wrong and she could deny it all she liked, it wasn’t going away.
Suddenly Jessica saw a policeman turn the corner and walk by at a slow and steady pace and a very large part of the buried side of her wanted to run to him and take his arm and allow him to lead her out of harms way and back to her home. Home to her poor husband probably worried sick by this hour and pacing fresh threadbare patches in the brand new carpet. But something kept her stuck to the ground where she stood. She was a child of the streets after all and the police were useless men in silly outfits carrying useless little sticks and whistles. But for all her steadfast posture, the streetwise urchin was cracking. The quivering wreck behind it was threatening the integrity of the outside fortress. She tried willing the Bobby to look her way and see her and come to her rescue. He didn’t. He paused for a moment to eye a drunken couple making their way down the road, then turned the corner and was gone. Jessica was alone.
I wish you wouldn’t go alone
Oh, just shut up, will you! Jessica silently snapped at herself and at the well chosen words of her husband. She missed him terribly even though she knew he’d be just as frightened as useless as she felt now, at least she wouldn’t be alone. Where was Liz? How much longer could she wait before she needed to leave? Jessica began to hum to herself. She didn’t know why, she wasn’t the sort of person who sang to soothe her own nerves. Others, yes, Jessica was fond of lullabies and often sang to Chad when he was unwell or when he bribed her with the promise of reading to her afterward. The humming turned to words and her volume grew and in spite of herself Jessica began to sing full voice and she had no idea why. And she was fully aware of what a stupid and dangerous thing she was doing but she couldn’t help herself. The song was an old French folk song, from her childhood. One her mother would sing with a twinkle in her eye as she kneaded bread.
Oui, Je suis jalouse,
Oui, C’est ca, c’est simplement jalouse,
Je suis jalouse…
She choked in the middle of the refrain as her heart leapt into her throat and came crashing back down into her ribcage. It pulsed still in her ears and the back of her head as she stood frozen in the middle of the road and at stared down at the opposite end of the street. The figure had stopped slightly in front of the nearest street lamp so its face was in shadow. Something was in his hand and she swore she saw it dripping even though it was a clear night and it hadn’t rained all weekend. She knew then and there exactly who this stranger was and even if she wanted to she would not be able to explain how she knew. It was a knowing that went beyond the streetwise fortress walls and straight into the heart of the terrified little girl inside them. Jessica’s fear was indescribable and yet she did nothing. She didn’t move a muscle; she didn’t flinch or look around for help. She stared straight ahead and the shadowy figure stared back and she knew he could see her. She knew when he began to move that he was coming for her and that she might want to start running. But she didn’t move. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t scream. She would wait there until he arrived and she had no choice in the matter.
He moved closer still. And she stood fast. Was she challenging him? Did her days on the street run deeper than she knew?
“Come on then, Jackie boy! Show us how big and scary you are! Come then, lady killer! Bring out your knife and see what happens! I’ll rip off your bollocks and feed them to you, you murderous coward! Come on then!”
She was actually saying this at the top of her voice. Her voice had found itself and Jessica no control over what was being said. The dark figure had stopped dead when she’d started shouting at him, perhaps he was caught off guard by it. But now he’d quickened his pace and was approaching faster than before.
“That’s it, you coward! Try and gut me if you think you can! I’ll have your eyes for supper, you murdering bastard!”
Quick as lightening a hand wrapped around her wrist tightly tugged her to the left. She still could not take her eyes off the darkness gaining speed towards her. A voice, hot and fierce and close to her ear finally snapped her out of it.
“Shut up and run, you stupid girl.” said the woman.
And she did.
Jessica ran, lead by the small framed woman who still had hold of her wrist. They ran in and out of dark alley ways. The woman pulled her through broken doorways and under clotheslines and over drunken tramps to a well lit square. In the square was a circle of wagons and tents and fiddle music was coming from somewhere in the middle of it all. The woman pulled her into one of the larger tents and threw her down into a chair. Next she filled a cup with wine and tried to put it into Jessica’s hand but she was shaking so much she couldn’t keep the wine from spilling out. With the frustrated sigh of a mother, the woman set the cup on a nearby table and put a hand to either side of Jessica’s face and stared her straight in the eye.
“You are alive. So you are going to have to breathe, please.”
Jessica hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath. She breathed in unsteadily and out and the gypsy woman stayed there and breathed with her for moment. Then as quickly as she’d grabbed her she took her hands away and began to busy herself with the rest of the tent.
“Better.” She said. “Keep doing that and when your hands are steadier you can try drinking, yes?”
She could have been years older or younger, but she had the face of a gypsy, one that changes itself to suit the needs of its owner. She was small and strange and beautiful and chirped to herself as she went about the place putting things away. Jessica watched her weave her way around the place and this busy little dance calmed her enough to be able to try the cup again. The woman then left the tent completely leaving Jessica on her own. Jessica sat in silence and lifted the only slightly trembling cup to her lips. Questions started flooding in.
What just happened? Was that really him? What possessed me to say those things? What possessed me to sing? What would have happened if…?
Jessica’s vivid imagination wrapped itself greedily around the vision of a man with a knife to her throat. She could imagine the cold sharp steel against her neck and feeling nothing as warm blood began to soak through the lace front of her dress. Jessica was startled back to earth when the woman came back with a basket of laundry in her arms.
“I am jealous.” She said seemingly to no one in particular because she wasn’t looking at Jessica when she said it. But then she looked up from her laundry basket as if expecting a response.
“Jealous? Of what?” said Jessica.
“No no. I am Jealous. Your song you were singing. Je suis jalouse. I am jealous. French, that is.” Replied the gypsy.
“Oh, yes, yes it is. My parents are French. My mother taught me.”
“Yes, I know.” Said the gypsy. “Mine too. We have much things in common. So I save your life tonight.” The gypsy went back to work but she continued on. “Lizzy, I also know.”
Jessica had almost forgotten her friend.
“You know Liz? Did she send you to find me? Where is she, is she all right?”
There was a pause as the gypsy considered her for a moment then she came close to her and sat on the edge of the table beside the chair.
“I am very sorry to tell you this. But Lizzy is gone.”
“Gone? Where did she-“
“She’s dead. She’s murdered. She’s gone.”
There was a silence. Jessica wanted to cry but couldn’t remember how. The gypsy continued.
“There is much we need to say and much we do not know yet. Also we must get you home soon. But I must say this to you now. I save your life tonight for three reasons, yes? One is that you know Liz, and she is dead so I will be your friend now and we will talk more about her another time. Two is that I heard you sing. And you have beautiful voice. I also sing and have beautiful voice. And I think if you meet my other friend who also also sings and has beautiful voice you will agree that we sound beautiful all singing together and this is something we must try when the time is right. Three is because it was in the cards, so I had no choice.”
“In the cards?” Jessica was lost.
The gypsy tapped the large stack of tarot cards next to her on the table.
“Because of these, I know about Lizzy, and I know about you. I know I could not save Lizzy so I save you instead. I know you have many question and I will answer some of them soon but not now. It is dangerous for you to stay here now so you must leave.”
How strange this woman was. She said she knew Liz, and Jessica believed her. Yet when she spoke of her death it was as if it had all happened years ago. Sad news, at the time, but there apparently was more current and pressing matters at hand. Jessica didn’t know what to say or where to start. So she said nothing. And the gypsy continued.
“You will go with my brother. He is a nice man and gentleman he will take you home. He has a horse you will ride with him.”
It seemed to Jessica that she had no choice but to trust these people. Besides, why would this woman save her life just to put her in harms way again? And at this particular moment, Jessica wanted to be home more than any place in the world.
“What about you?” asked Jessica. “Will you be all right on your own?”
“You’re very nice. Funny, too,” Laughed the gypsy. “I am with my family here, I am safe. Jack the Ripper does not want to kill me.”
Jessica wasn’t sure how but she knew the gypsy was right. She led Jessica out of the tent where her brother, a man who could have been much older or younger than her was waiting with a brown horse. He helped her up, and then climbed up himself. The gypsy spoke to the man urgently in a language that sounded almost like French but was so fast, Jessica couldn’t follow the conversation. Suddenly, impulsively Jessica grabbed the gypsy’s hand which had been patting the horse’s neck.
“Thank you…for saving my life tonight, I…I’m sorry I don’t even know your name.”
The gypsy smiled at her.
“I have a lot of names.” She laughed. “You can call me Andrea. We will talk again soon. You must meet me next Saturday night at the Drury Lane Theatre, you know it?”
Jessica nodded.
“You must come and meet this friend of mine and we will talk about many things. And for heavens sake, child, don’t come on your own!” Andrea winked at Jessica and nodded at her brother who gave the horse a kick and they were off.
The rode quickly through the dark streets. Past gathering crowds and police whistles. Jessica only knew a tiny bit of the story unfolding around her. She would know more in the coming weeks and would marvel at this ride when she was oblivious to the horrifying scenes she must have ridden straight through. She spent most of the ride with her eyes shut tight to the outside world; willing it to pass by faster. At last the horse came to a halt. Andrea’s brother helped her down from the horse. They were at the top of her street, a few houses away from home. She thanked him but he said nothing, simply nodded shyly and got back on his horse and was gone. Jessica walked the rest of the way home.
In the lamplight Jessica could see the outline of someone sat upon her doorstep. It was Chad. He had been waiting for her all night and he’d fallen asleep on the front steps, his head resting on the marble column on the right. Jessica went quietly up to him. She kissed him on the forehead. She kissed him where his black hair met the worry line, the first of several she knew she’d put there herself. He woke with a start.
“Hello there.” He said. “Sorry, darling, I think I must have fallen asleep. Heavens what time is it? Jess, you’re shaking like a leaf what’s happened? Are you all right?”
Another worry line settled itself right above his furrowed eyebrows.
“Oh, Chad,” was all Jessica could managed before she buried her head in his shoulder. She would tell him everything. They would go inside in a moment and they would sit in front of the fire and she would recount every horrifying minute of her adventure that evening. Tomorrow morning’s paper would confirm much of what she was about to tell him. But for now, all that was required was a moment of quiet, a moment of stillness to collect oneself. He held her there on the steps of their home and for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Jessica remembered how to cry.