consolidated her silhouette, transforming her pelvis into a horizontal ledge upon which one could, if one should so wish, not only balance a wineglass, but doubtless a complete tea service, too.
For a while, we chatted inconsequentially. But then, resting her chin on the back of a white-gloved hand, she frowned, bit her lip, and looked deeply into my eyes.
‘How do you know you’re a Shulamite?’ she said, her words so measured and carefully chosen that, for once, it was difficult to fault her elocution. I stared back at her. Her eyes were murky pools. Beneath their surfaces flitted strange, wriggly things, a mess of thoughts and dreams I seemed to recognize as breeding, multiplying, and seeking sustenance beneath the scum-encrusted surface of my own mind. They frightened me, nevertheless. ‘I mean ’ow do you really know?’ I stared into my lap, my stomach doing flip-flops, as if I’d just lost my footing on a staircase. My cheeks began to burn.
‘I’ve told you before, I’ve always known,’ I whispered.
‘But there’s more, ain’t there?’ She placed her hand on my knee. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘I understand. There’s no need to be upset.’ I felt a sob contract my chest. ‘Cliticia’s ’ere,’ she added, her voice as quiet as mine, talking to me as I used to talk to Dulcie when I’d find her alone, crying in the dark. ‘I’m your friend. Remember? A postulant, like you.’
‘Are you really my friend?’
She took my hand and squeezed it. ‘There, now. Hush, hush, hush.’
‘I think about what they do. The killing. I’ve, I’ve —’
I got up and went to my chiffonnier. I opened the bottom drawer, withdrew my commonplace book, and brought it back to the desk. Re-seating myself, I set the book down and fanned it out.
‘They’re all obituaries,’ said Cliticia, numbly, as she stared at the press clippings I had mounted with glue.
‘Not all of them,’ I said, quickly thumbing through the pages till I came upon a selection of reports from The Illustrated Police News.
Sunday School Kissing Games
‘According to our contemporary, Sunday schools and temperance societies are developing the practice of “kissing games” in an astonishing and alarming degree. These modern Saturnalia, we are asked to believe, prove especially attractive to teachers and senior scholars, and amongst the advanced youth of both sexes osculation in its most objectionable form proceeds for hours together... ’
T hrowing a C hild out of a W indow
‘On Wednesday, last week, Dr Diplock concluded an adjourned inquiry at the Talbot, Clarendon Road, Notting Hill, as to the death of Henry John Base, aged nine months. The mother, Esther Base, is now under remand at the Hammersmith Police Court on a charge of causing the death of the child by throwing it out of a window at 37, Talbot Grove, on Sunday morning... ’
Throwing a Man into a Copper of Boiling Water
‘On Friday last at the Lambeth Police Court, Richard Lister, twenty-seven, proprietor of a German sausage manufactory, in James Street, Hatcham, was charged with violently assaulting James Smith and throwing him into a copper of boiling water... ’
A girl of Sixteen Carrying her Dead child in the Streets
‘Mr Humphreys held an inquest on Thursday at Mile End, touching the death of the newly-born male child of Elizabeth Brewer, who was seen on Sunday carrying the body in a parcel about the streets, and was taken into custody by a police constable... ’
T he G irls' H ome S candal a T D eptford
‘At the Central Criminal court on Wednesday, before Baron Pollock, Laura Julia Addiscott, spinster, was placed at the bar to take her trial for the manslaughter of four children placed under her charge in an institution called “The Home for Friendless Girls”, at Deptford. The prisoner pleaded “Not Guilty” to all the charges. She was put upon her trial for the manslaughter of a child named Kate Smith. Mr Besley opened
For a while, we chatted inconsequentially. But then, resting her chin on the back of a white-gloved hand, she frowned, bit her lip, and looked deeply into my eyes.
‘How do you know you’re a Shulamite?’ she said, her words so measured and carefully chosen that, for once, it was difficult to fault her elocution. I stared back at her. Her eyes were murky pools. Beneath their surfaces flitted strange, wriggly things, a mess of thoughts and dreams I seemed to recognize as breeding, multiplying, and seeking sustenance beneath the scum-encrusted surface of my own mind. They frightened me, nevertheless. ‘I mean ’ow do you really know?’ I stared into my lap, my stomach doing flip-flops, as if I’d just lost my footing on a staircase. My cheeks began to burn.
‘I’ve told you before, I’ve always known,’ I whispered.
‘But there’s more, ain’t there?’ She placed her hand on my knee. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘I understand. There’s no need to be upset.’ I felt a sob contract my chest. ‘Cliticia’s ’ere,’ she added, her voice as quiet as mine, talking to me as I used to talk to Dulcie when I’d find her alone, crying in the dark. ‘I’m your friend. Remember? A postulant, like you.’
‘Are you really my friend?’
She took my hand and squeezed it. ‘There, now. Hush, hush, hush.’
‘I think about what they do. The killing. I’ve, I’ve —’
I got up and went to my chiffonnier. I opened the bottom drawer, withdrew my commonplace book, and brought it back to the desk. Re-seating myself, I set the book down and fanned it out.
‘They’re all obituaries,’ said Cliticia, numbly, as she stared at the press clippings I had mounted with glue.
‘Not all of them,’ I said, quickly thumbing through the pages till I came upon a selection of reports from The Illustrated Police News.
Sunday School Kissing Games
‘According to our contemporary, Sunday schools and temperance societies are developing the practice of “kissing games” in an astonishing and alarming degree. These modern Saturnalia, we are asked to believe, prove especially attractive to teachers and senior scholars, and amongst the advanced youth of both sexes osculation in its most objectionable form proceeds for hours together... ’
T hrowing a C hild out of a W indow
‘On Wednesday, last week, Dr Diplock concluded an adjourned inquiry at the Talbot, Clarendon Road, Notting Hill, as to the death of Henry John Base, aged nine months. The mother, Esther Base, is now under remand at the Hammersmith Police Court on a charge of causing the death of the child by throwing it out of a window at 37, Talbot Grove, on Sunday morning... ’
Throwing a Man into a Copper of Boiling Water
‘On Friday last at the Lambeth Police Court, Richard Lister, twenty-seven, proprietor of a German sausage manufactory, in James Street, Hatcham, was charged with violently assaulting James Smith and throwing him into a copper of boiling water... ’
A girl of Sixteen Carrying her Dead child in the Streets
‘Mr Humphreys held an inquest on Thursday at Mile End, touching the death of the newly-born male child of Elizabeth Brewer, who was seen on Sunday carrying the body in a parcel about the streets, and was taken into custody by a police constable... ’
T he G irls' H ome S candal a T D eptford
‘At the Central Criminal court on Wednesday, before Baron Pollock, Laura Julia Addiscott, spinster, was placed at the bar to take her trial for the manslaughter of four children placed under her charge in an institution called “The Home for Friendless Girls”, at Deptford. The prisoner pleaded “Not Guilty” to all the charges. She was put upon her trial for the manslaughter of a child named Kate Smith. Mr Besley opened
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