Trapped in 1895
Chapter 18

The next day she turned up at the Black Stallion and was confronted by Mrs. Hill.

“And why should I take you back on when you abandon me for two weeks?:

Cheryl decided a little white lie was needed.

“They threw me in jail for my belief in the right for women to vote in parliament.”

Mrs. Hill stared at her.

“Are you a suffragette?”

Cheryl gulped and said, “Yes”

Mrs. Hill drew a NUWS pamphlet from her desk and gave it to Cheryl.

“Be here for our meeting at six on Sunday. I expect you on the job tomorrow.”

Heaving a sigh of relief, Cheryl left.

Later, Cheryl asked Abby about the meetings.

“Don’t worry about them,” she said. “Turn up a couple of times, keep your head down, and they will forget all about you. She just likes to keep them happy. Them NUWS women are the same women that would like to shut all the inns.”

Cheryl did exactly what Abby suggested, and the whole episode became a bad dream.

Cheryl had never been up to the top floor since the first day she started. It was served by two waitresses, and they were the only ones allowed to carry food upstairs. It had its own little bar and bartender.

For four days, Monday to Thursday, it served as a ladies’ parlour, where very wealthy ladies, and sometimes gentlemen, would come to be waited on and served excellent food. Friday night was card night, and every table was occupied with card players. The amount of money that parted ways there was staggering, and it attracted several unsavoury people.

Saturday night was the Gentlemen’s Club night. Gentlemen would bring their lady friends and stay till Sunday morning. Membership to the club was strictly controlled and expensive. A huge, vicious bouncer guarded the door and checked membership. Cheryl could never replace out what went on, even the bartender wouldn’t talk and he was Cheryl’s main source of information.

The two women that served the third floor were used to working at night as their skin was pallid and pale, as if they had insufficient sunlight. They started at three in the afternoon and nobody was quite sure when they finished. They didn’t talk to any of the other staff and nobody knew exactly what they did except Collette served food and Charlotte served the drink.

Cheryl had just put the last pan on the hook, finishing up for the night, when Mrs Hill called her into her office.

“Miss Brown, do you know a Mr Dan Morrison, also known as” and here a sneer covered her face, “Ugly Dan?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. One of his thugs held a knife to my throat.”

Cheryl went on to explain the incident but decided to keep the fact he paid to get her out of jail to herself.

“Strange. Well, Collet cannot work tomorrow. Normally, I would hire a replacement, but Ugly Dan specifically asked for you. Ugly Dan is a person I would rather not upset, but if you don’t want to, you don’t need to.”

“Do I get paid more?”

“The tips are very generous and you don’t start till three although you finish around midnight. Depends who’s winning or losing.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Good,” said Mrs Hill, “but be aware of Ugly Dan. He seems to be interested in you‌.”

An uneasy feeling came over Cheryl.

Cheryl enjoyed the sleep-in on that morning. There had been an unusually heavy fall of snow and her bed was nice and snug. Mrs. Cole had to pull the clothes off her bed to get her to come down for lunch. She scrunched her way across the snow just before three in the afternoon. When she arrived in the kitchen, Rory sent her up with a small tray of food. The food on this night was more in the continuous form of snacks and finger food. Three men and a woman were sitting around one of the tables being served by Charlotte, who didn’t speak to Cheryl the whole night.

“Over here, luv,” said the woman, “we’re starved here.”

Cheryl put the tray down and went to the bar.

“Hi, Davey.”

But Davey gave her a cold look and said, “We don’t talk in here.”

“Oh sorry,” she said and hurried downstairs where, under Rory’s direction, she prepared the next batch of food. This she carried up one hour later. Now the place was full of people and she arrived just as one man shouted, “Take your seats, Ladies and Gentlemen.”

However, one man didn’t sit but followed Cheryl out after she had put the tray of food down on the tables provided. He cornered her at the landing on the stairs.

“’ello again, luv.” said Ugly Dan.

“What do you want?” uttered Cheryl.

“Hope you ‘ave no hard feelings about the knife to your throat, luv. Business, you know. I invest a lot of time in my lads and I don’t like to see them fall into the coppers’ arms.”

“No. No hard feelings,” she lied, trying to push back.

“Look, I can give a nice lass like you a good job. You’d make lots of money.”

Cheryl had no doubt she could.

“And you owe me three hundred quid for getting you out of the nick.”

Cheryl felt sick. Somehow, this ugly old man was going to plague her for a long time.

“Well, if I replace out anything, I’ll be sure to let you know,” she said, finally pushing her way past. When she had returned Ugly Dan had gone.

The rest of the night went smoothly. The demand on her services was nowhere near that of the dining room and her tips purse was swelling nicely. She didn’t finish until two in the morning.

Mrs Hill instructed Cheryl to help Abby that day, as the bar was unusually full and patrons were demanding food. She was delivering beef pies to a table when she felt a hand on her arm. Turning, she found herself face to face with Ugly Dan.

“I’ve got a job for you, dearie,” he said, pulling her to a table and brushing off the owner of the pie.

“I’m sorry,” said Cheryl, “but I don’t want to be a whore.”

“Don’t fancy yourself, luv. You haven’t got what it takes to be one of ugly Dan’s whores.”

Cheryl wondered if she should feel insulted.

“I need a waitress next Friday. One that can keep her mouth shut, owes me a lot of money and doesn’t mind being groped occasionally.”

“Just waitressing?” she asked again.

“Just waitressing.”

“Will I have paid my debt to you?”

“Not blooming likely. I’ll knock off twenty quid, which is pretty good for one day’s work.′

“I don’t think Mrs Hill will let me go on a Saturday,” she said with one last desperate excuse.

“Don’t worry about Penny Hill,” he responded.

On Friday night, Cheryl was agitated and quiet during her meal with Mrs. Cole. Ever since Cheryl got her own job, Mrs Cole had stopped grilling her about her private life. She had demanded to know wherever she went, who she talked to and be home by a certain time, etc. Truthfully, Cheryl never minded this. Her own mother was so wrapped up in her own imagined illnesses that she didn’t notice anything Cheryl did thus when Mrs Cole said, “What’s wrong dear?” Cheryl told her everything.

“I have to be a waitress at dinner at Ashton House.”

Mrs Cole whistled, and she didn’t whistle often.

“My friend Anthea was a cook there for a while. The stories she could tell. There were comings and goings at all times of day and night. All gentry folk, of course. One time Anthea had to cook a whole banquet for a party that started at midnight.”

“Will I be in danger?” asked Cheryl.

“I don’t think so. Anthea said they treated the staff very well. The only thing she said that was annoying was the groping. Apparently, someone groped her once, and she is of a very matronly stature.”

Cheryl sighed.

“I suppose I’ve put up with worse since I’ve been pulled here. I’m off to bed.”

Cheryl stood in front of Mrs Cole that afternoon in her dress, frilly cap and apron.

“Oh my,” said Mrs. Cole, tears rolling down her cheek.

“What’s wrong, Mrs Cole?” asked a concerned Cheryl.

“If I had a daughter, I would have liked her to be just like you?”

At that point, both women burst into tears, broken only by a knock on the door.

“That will be your carriage, dear. Off you go.”

Cheryl was impressed by the carriage. It was the type the gentry used and took her to an enormous house surrounded by a tall stone wall. The carriage came to rest in a courtyard and Cheryl disembarked. She knocked on the door and was greeted by an impressive Butler. He escorted Cheryl into a large room full of portraits and standing there was Ugly Dan and a tall, stately gentleman.

“Miss Cheryl Brown,” The butler announced.

“The very lady I was telling you about,” said Ugly Dan.

“And she can keep her mouth shut?”

“Oh, Miss Brown is very good at keeping secrets, aren’t you, Miss Brown?”

Cheryl, very meekly, said, “Yes, sir.”

“Major, take Miss Brown to the kitchen and introduce her to the other staff.”

The Butler and Cheryl passed between Ugly Dan and the gentleman and she felt a hand take a good grip of her bottom. She gritted her teeth, stared straight ahead, and kept walking.

“Excellent,” said the Gentleman, “just the way I like them.”

The guests appeared, and the Major escorted them to their place. After the last person was seated, a large gong sounded. This was the signal to lock all the doors, the windows already been blacked out. It was also the signal for Cheryl and Agnes to serve. Cheryl had spent many shifts amongst the working class of the Black Stallion bar, but the liberties these folks took left Cheryl breathless. By the time she was halfway through serving the main course she had been touched, felt, groped and grabbed so much she was convinced her body was covered in little bruises. Just as she put a plate of beef and three veggies down in front of a dowager, she heard a squeal over the general hubbub of voices. She looked up to see a guest covered in beef and veggies. She rushed over.

“Oh, I’m so sorry for the clumsiness of my colleague,” she said as she removed the beef and scraped the veggies of the young woman.

“Oh, it’s not her fault. This oaf stuck his hand under her dress,” said the young woman.

Cheryl turned to a pimply faced youth who was grinning at her. Very slowly, looking him squarely in the eyes, she got very close to him.

“If you lay a finger on my friend again, I’ll rip your scrotum off with my teeth, understand?”

The youth turned pale under the vision and said, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Take a deep breath, Agnes, and go back to work.”

As Cheryl put the last dessert down, she heaved a tremendous sigh of relief and shortly after a gong sounded again, signalling the guests to go to the games room. It became Agnes’s final job to clear the dining room while Cheryl went into the gaming room by the bar door. As they entered the bar, the bartender, noticing Cheryl’s harassed face, said, “Drink this.” and handed her a glass with golden liquid.

“What is it?”

“A large brandy.”

She swallowed it in one gulp and watched the guest go to their favourite way of losing money.

It didn’t take long for the room to be filled with the mysterious energy of forty people risking piles of money in roulette, dice, or cards. Cheryll began moving among the groups, collecting orders for drinks and delivering them without error, but everyone ‌ignored her. Their attention was on the casino operator and occasionally there was a burst of anger as a punter, making a bad bet, loses his temper.The Major swiftly and efficiently removed the punter, who was never heard from again. One such confrontation erupted as Cheryl was passing with a tray of drinks. A big Irish landholder jumped to his feet yelling, “You’re a bloody cheating English dog.”

The operator took exception to this and jumped to his feet, fist at the ready. The Irish swung his huge fist at the operator, but he ducked just as Cheryl was passing. Cheryl collapsed when the fist landed on her right eye. The altercation ceased, and they all gathered around poor Cheryl. Ugly Dan pushed through as a groggy Cheryl sat up. Cheryl was totally disoriented, and she said, “my IPhone, where’s my Iphone. I’ve got to call mum.”

“What’s an Iphone?” somebody said. Ugly Dan examined her, then declared, “She’s alright, back to your business. Come on, Miss Brown, get back up and back to work.”

Still groggy, she staggered up, regained her tray and went back, in a daze, to refill the order. Half an hour later, she had recovered with a splitting headache and an absolutely black eye. The bartender gave her another brandy.

Everything began to go into a blur as she took orders and delivered drinks on and on till she passed an old man sitting dejectedly at an empty table, all other players and dealers moving on to other games.

“Are you all right, sir?”

The old man looked at her with tears in his eyes.

“I’m ruined. My family will be thrown into the streets tomorrow. My beautiful wife, my daughters and their children, everyone.”

“Oh you poor man, ” said Cheryl, but then the Major appeared.

“Come on, my Lord. You know the rules. If you’re not playing, you must go.”

The Major hustled the poor man out the door.

“What will happen to him?” Cheryl asked the major a little later.

“Probably floating in the river by now,” he said and moved off to settle an argument.

Throughout the evening, she noticed one consistent occurrence. Ugly Dan kept moving through the crowd, watching everything, writing things down. Especially the couples that disappeared through one of the dozen doors surrounding the large gaming room. She had no knowledge of what happened behind those doors, but she did have her suspicions. One or twice they passed each other until he left a door to a room ajar. The door had a sign on it declaring this was a storage cupboard for the cleaners, but when she slipped in, there were no materials or equipment, only a little hole in the wall. One on each side. She peered through one hole, then jerked away in horror. A man and a woman were on a bed. She hurried out the room, making sure the door was shut. Ugly Dan was spying on the guests.

As the clock moved through midnight, the mysterious energy seemed to fade as losers outstripped winners and dejected people drifted away. It kept going till dawn and there was only one table of five card players left. They were hunched over the table, their faces grim and a huge pile of banknotes on the table.

Cheryl, ugly Dan, the Major and the bartender were gathered around the last table

“What are these other pieces of paper?” Cheryl asked the bartender. The demand for drinks had ceased, her headache had gone and her black eye the shade of midnight.

“Promissory notes. Almost as good as cash. Those five men are amongst the richest in England.”

One by one, they each threw banknotes or pieces of paper into the pile until the men threw their cards down, collected what money they had and left, leaving two men staring at each other. One man wrote something on a note and pushed it out to the pile . The other man wrote something on his and pushed it back, then laid his card down face up. The other man swore violently and left.

The first picked up the money, leaving a pile of notes behind.

“Divide that amongst yourselves,” he said, but Ugly Dan jumped in and grabbed it.

“Thank you, sir.”

The Major and Dan left into the kitchen together.

“I don’t think we will see any of that,” said the bartender. “another brandy?”

After the brandy, the bartender organised a coach to take her home.

She arrived back at the professor’s house just as they were sitting down for breakfast.

“Goodness me,” said the professor.

“My dear girl, did someone attack you?”

“No, no. Mrs Cole, it was all an accident.”

She related the entire night, swearing them to silence.

“Oh poppycock. All of London knows the goings on there. The police are paid to stay away. I must say though, you’re in for a ribbing when you go back to the Black Stallion.”

.

Mary, who was waiting for Cheryl on the Church steps, was surprised to see Mrs. Cole.

“Why Auntie, what are you doing here?” asked Mary.

“Going to church, you silly girl. Why else would I be here.”

“Oh,” said a deflated Mary, “where’s Cheryl?”

Mrs. Cole related Cheryl’s adventure.

“Wish I could have been there. Nothing ever happens to me?”

“You should thank the Lord for that. Now get a move on.”

Mrs Cole sat with Mary in the front seats and when the sermon was finished, Mrs Cole intercepted the Vicar

“Good morning Moth.. Mrs Cole. How are you today?”

“I’ll get to the point, Vicar. Thank you for helping Mrs Brown by paying the prosecutor’s fee.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t raise the money. Miss Brown instructed me to halt. She was prepared to go to prison.”

“Well, who did then?”

“I’m not certain, but the rumour is, it was ugly, Dan.”

“Who’s he?”

“A very undesirable person, apparently, and now Miss Brown is indebted to him.”

“I thank you for your help anyway, Vicar,” she said then, “do you want to come for a cup of tea, later?”

“I would be delighted, ” he said, pausing, “Mother.”

Mrs Cole smiled, then left.

Cheryl returns to Black Stallion with black eye

On Monday, the first person Cheryl met was Mrs. Hill, who took one look at Cheryl, shook her head and went to her office. Coincidentally, Mary was with Abby when she met her. As soon as they were told the black eye resulted from an accident, they burst out in laughter.

“My boyfriend did that to me once,” said Abby, “and it was by accident. We got a bit too excited one evening and as I was going down his fist was coming up. Ruined a good night.”

“Does it hurt?” asked Mary.

“Not anymore. More embarrassing than anything else.” said Cheryl.

The most enthusiastic response was from Rory. He gave a loud laugh and said,” Och, lassie. I hope you gave as good as you got. I always knew you had it in yer.”

Cheryl felt oddly proud about that.