Dancing in Red (a Wear Black novella) by Hiestand Heather & Flynn Eilis

Author:Hiestand, Heather & Flynn, Eilis [Hiestand, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Coffee on Sundays Press
Published: 2013-10-05T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Three: Riches to Rags

February 1, 1861 London, England

The English didn’t like the Irish. You’d have thought she was carrying a fresh case of the Irish flu the way respectable housewives turned Nellie away when she asked for work. Eventually, after weeks of searching, she found work as a temporary barmaid, taking the place of the owner’s daughter, who was recovering from having given birth. They would only give Nellie a bed in the stables, but it was warm and comfortable enough, though it smelled terrible. At night, she rubbed her stomach and wondered if the child inside would be a boy or a girl. She had felt the first flutterings of the baby a week before and the sensations had grown to be a daily occurrence since, until today. She worked for the babe, she ate for the babe. Right now, everything she did was for the babe.

“You are so silent, wee one,” she whispered. “Sleeping, are you? Shall I sing you a lullaby?”

She crooned quietly to the babe inside her, shifting on the straw to find a comfortable place to sleep. Her back had been hurting all day, the pain increasing by the hour.

“Nellie, girl, where are you?”

The rough voice of the pub owner woke her from a tired doze some time later. She blinked and sat up, rubbing her back.

“Mr. Pelham?” she asked, pulling a candle toward her and lighting it.

“If you want to earn a few shillings, girl, there’s a man here asking for a companion for the evening. I won’t judge if you need the money. He’s in the room above the kitchen.” Pelham stepped toward her, until she could see his kind old face in the small circle of light.

Nellie blinked, her thoughts warring between a need for money and the desire to not be any more of a whore than she already had been. She stood to ask some questions about the man, but as she did so, she felt a wave of intense pain grip her belly, then she saw the dark stain in the straw, felt the thick dampness of her petticoats, smelled the coppery death of blood.

His face went pale as she swayed. “I’d best send my wife to you,” he said, turning around and hurrying away.

She sat down on the dirty straw, knowing that there was no point in pretending she could do anything but wait for the pains to go away.

It took a day, but by the time she had recovered from the worst of the bleeding, she knew she’d never feel her baby’s movements again. She’d seen similar things growing up in Dublin, and knew that the body of the babe, such as it was, would be expelled from her in due time.

She cried for a few minutes. That was all she permitted herself.

Two weeks passed, and she remained dizzy and muzzy-brained through it all. The Pelhams’ daughter returned to work and while they allowed Nellie to remain in the stables on her straw bed, they no longer had any work for her.

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