Salisbury Street, London, December 23rd, 1830, 5:15 P.M.
A man.
A man in a tidy waste coat and a green necktie walks alone, a package tucked securely under his arm. He walks quickly, holding the package tightly, with his eyes forward, not wanting to make any form of contact with those on the street. Men, women, even children, who'd steal anything they could from him if he had the chance. Making a point of not looking any of them in the eye, he looked around as he walked. He saw women huddled up against buildings, holding their crying children in their arms, some of whom he believed were too young to have to see such times and live as they were. There were men begging, there were men working whatever job they could to earn two pennies a day just to feed their starving wives and children, or saving up to one day make something of it, even though they knew it'd never happen. Some were standing by a window of the inn on Salisbury Street, peeking in to see the people inside enjoying their time with each other, drinking and eating by a nice fire. Not being able to bear anymore of this, the man turned his gaze and continued walking. The people on the street behind him eyed him as he went by.
POOR: "At the end of the day you're another day older, and that's all you can say for the life of the poor. It's a struggle, it's a war, and there's nothing that anyone's giving, one more day standing about, what is it for? One day less to be living. At the end of the day you're another day colder, and the shirt on your back doesn't keep out the chill."
As he walked, people watched him, and he felt a twinge of guilt, but knew that he mustn't let them stay on his mind.
POOR: "And the righteous hurry past, they don't hear the little ones crying, and the winter is coming on fast, ready to kill. One day nearer to dying. At the end of the day there's another day dawning, and the sun in the morning is waiting to rise. And the waves crash on the sand like a storm that could break any second, there's a hunger on the land, there's a reckoning that needs to be reckoned, and there's going to be hell to pay at the end of the day!"
He slowed pace as he got farther away from the main crowd. He past a factory where the workers were slowly lining up to get their pay from the foreman. He couldn't help but hear what they were saying as he walked by them.
FOREMAN: "At the end of the day you get nothing for nothing. Sitting flat on your bum doesn't buy any bread."
A man in line spoke up against him.
MAN: "There are children back at home!" His comrades behind him joined in.
MEN: "And the children have got to be fed, and you're lucky to be in a job!"
WOMAN: "And in a bed! And we're counting our blessings." A woman piped in. The woman behind her was more concerned about talking with her friends than with the arguing going on.
WOMAN 2: "Have you seen how the foreman was fuming today, with his terrible breath and his wandering hands?"
WOMAN 3: "It's because little Fantine won't give him his way. Take a look at his trousers you'll see where he stands."
ALL: "At the end of the day it's another day over. With enough in your pocket to last for a week. Pay the landlord, pay the shop, keep on grafting as long as you're able, keep on grafting till you drop or it's back to crumbs off the table. You've got to pay your way at the end of the day!"
The man stopped as he watched a woman snatch a letter out of the hands of another woman.
WOMAN: "And what have we here, little innocent sister? Come on Fantine, let's have all the news!" she read the letter as quickly as possible. "Dear Fantine you must send us more money, your child needs a doctor, there's no time to lose!" she began taunting the other woman, Fantine, who began to fight her for the letter. A man who was clearly of higher status than them all walked up and separated them.
MAYOR: "What is this shouting all about? Will someone tear these two apart! This is a factory, not a circus. Now, come on ladies, settle down! I run a business of repute I am the mayor of this town! I look to you to sort this out and be as patient as you can - " he said to the foreman.
FOREMAN: "Now someone say how this began!"
WOMAN: "At the end of the day she's the one who began it! There's a kid that she's hiding in some little town. There's a man she has to pay, you can guess how she picks up the extra, you can bet she's earning her keep sleeping around, and the boss wouldn't like it!"
The woman, Fantine, stood tall and calm as this all went on. The man in the tidy waste coat watched from a safe distance.
FANTINE: "It's true there is a child and the child's my daughter. And her father abandoned us, leaving us flat. Now she lives with an innkeeper man and his wife, and I pay for the child, what's the matter with that?"
WOMEN: "At the end of the day she'll be nothing but trouble! And there's trouble for all when there's trouble for one! While we're earning our daily bread she's the one with her hand in the butter, so send the slut away or we're all gonna end in the gutter, and it's us who'll have to pay at the end of the day!"
FOREMAN: "I might've known the bitch could bite, I might've known the cat had claws, I might've guessed your little secret. Ah yes, the virtuous Faustine! Who keeps herself so pure and clean you'd be the cause, I have no doubt of any trouble hereabout. You play a virgin in the light but need no urgin' in the night."
WOMEN: "She's been laughing at you while she's having her men, she'll be nothing but trouble again and again, you must sack the girl today!"
The foreman nodded to get all the women to stop shouting, then spoke loud and clear over the crowd.
"Right my girl. On your way!"