HEARTTHROB OF THE HALLS
It's the era of the music hall and in the seedy environment of Wilton's Music Hall, crime is rife. An unlikely partnership, however, is doing what they can to prevent it.
Mattie Skerrit looked around the vast station concourse, trying not to
salivate, as the aroma of fresh pies reminded her that she'd not eaten
since breakfast. Afraid to take out her purse in case it attracted a pickpocket, Mattie sat on a Bench, wondering what to do now she'd reached the great metropolis, London, itself. It was one thing cadging a ride on a cart to the city and escaping the spiteful, whining Bedworths, but quite another to find new employment.
An old lady came and sat next to her, unbidden. The newcomer was plump and, as far as Mattie could tell, well-dressed.
"You're new here, aren't you, dearie?"
Mattie thought that it must be her shabby coat and boots that had given the lady that impression. She nodded.
"Going to a new job, are you?"
"Looking for one."
The old lady patted her arm sympathetically. "Old job not suit you?"
Mattie remembered the martyred voice of Ida Bedworth constantly in her ear, the way Eric Bedworth's nasty pinching fingers had hurt, and the way the Bedworth brats had thrown their breakfast at her. All this she could have stood. But when the eldest son Nigel had hinted broadly that he wanted to sleep with Mattie – despite her only being sixteen – she'd fled the house and gradually made her way to London.
She shook her head.
The old lady clicked her tongue.
"Shame. What do they call you, dear?"
"My name's Mattie Skerrit."
"Would you like a nice fresh pie and a cup of tea, Mattie?"
"Do you know somewhere? I can pay-"
"You keep your money in that pretty purse of yours; you remind me of
my poor Maria. Just your age and died of the consumption last year."
The old lady wiped away a crocodile tear and Mattie wanted to pat her arm to show sympathy, but didn't quite dare.
"Come with me, Mattie Skerrit."
Mattie smiled at the old lady, whose name, it turned out, was Eliza. She didn't volunteer a second name but Mattie never realised this until much later. She, Mattie, was now sitting with a full belly and was feeling warm
and slightly lethargic.
"Now, my dear, sorry to move you on when you're resting, but I want you to see something. Do you like him?
Eliza pointed to a poster on one of the walls of the eating house, which announced that Luke Devine, Heartthrob of the Halls, would be performing at Wilton's Music Hall in Whitechapel. The photograph of Mr
Devine resembled that of an angel to Mattie's innocent eyes, with his large eyes, sensuous mouth and good teeth, and that wonderful dark curling hair.
She nodded eagerly then began to speak.
"I know you don't have money, Mattie, but my brother Henry will pay for you, and afterwards he'll take you round to meet Mr Devine. Would you like that?"
Oh, Mattie would. Poor innocent Mattie would very much like to meet this handsome man and see a real, proper show.
Mattie turned to Henry, her eyes shining.
"Isn't it the most wonderful thing you've ever seen before?"
Henry wanted to snap at this silly little bitch that he'd been saddled with for the evening, to wake up. The girl was in a dream world and she'd only seen the first half of the show.
He forced a smile to his weasel-like face.
"Wait till Mr Devine comes on stage. Then you'll have seen something!"
"Oh, I'm very excited! But, that conjuror! And the lady who flew on the wire, and the one who sang that lovely song… she said it was written by Mr Gilbert and Mr Sullivan…."
"Oh, she's very fine, indeed. But I tell you, you wait till you hear what Mr Devine does with Gilbert and Sullivan songs! You'll be swooning in your seat, Mattie!"
Mattie sighed.
"You and your sister must truly be angels! That wonderful meal we all had, then this show…"
"… And then you're going to meet Mr Devine. Oh, you'll not forget tonight, Mattie, I can promise you!"
Wait till Devine's filched your virginity and smacked you around, thought Henry. It was lingering on this image that helped him endure the girl's excited prattling.
The footlights dimmed and the second half of the programme was played out. Mattie applauded every act, even the amateur comic who was heckled by several apprentices in the pit. Finally, the compere announced:
"And NOW, ladies and gentlemen, for your express delight, that singer whose very voice exudes quality, the one who has the ladies swooning at his mellifluous vocals, our very own Heartthrob of the Halls… Mr Luke
Devine!"
To loud applause Luke Devine strolled on to the stage. He was the most gorgeous sight Mattie had seen in her short life. Dark, curling hair, lips that were inviting without being too full, white teeth… and his eyes! Were
they blue or grey? Or both? Wide, expressive and fringed by thick dark eyelashes, and when he half-closed them and the lashes almost swept his perfect cheekbone…. Ah! Maybe his complexion could have seemed a
little pale to some, but to Mattie, he looked like one of those romantic poets she'd read about.
Then he began to sing and her ecstasy was complete. His voice was both cultured and passionate, measured and then soaring. He sang of the joys of love, of the pain of a broken heart, the promise of a new and better
world for all. The Gilbert and Sullivan song Henry had promised about 'a pair of sparkling eyes' was the loveliest thing the girl had ever heard. And she was to meet him!
Mattie could feel herself dozing, and reluctantly sat upright. She'd been waiting in this room for over an hour now. It was a lovely room in her
eyes, all red and gold and large cushions to relax against, but she was becoming just a little drowsy. Henry had told her that Mr Devine had to
speak to the people at the stage door who had gone to congratulate him on his fine performance. However, it was now almost midnight and Mattie wasn't used to keeping late hours. Her head bobbed again…
"Ah, so this is the young lady I'm to meet?"
Luke himself was standing before her. Just as handsome without the greasepaint, in fact, probably more so. Yet the first impression Mattie had was that Mr Devine was all but preening in front of her. There was a look in his eyes she wasn't sure if she liked.
"Lovely, isn't she?" Henry added. nodded. "Lovely, indeed. Champagne, Miss Skerrit?"
Mattie smiled and nodded despite her unease. Champagne might help her to stay calmer. She could feel herself becoming warm and knew that gentlemen didn't like girls who perspired. Luke rang a small bell by his
dressing room mirror. A Chinese man entered and bowed. Mattie was uneasy; she'd read several romances in which the villains were Chinamen.
"Champagne for the lady."
No please, no thank you, just a command and none too gentle either.
Mattie was disappointed; it was to be her first of many disappointments
that evening.
The Chinaman bowed and went out.
"How old are you, Miss Skerrit?"
"Sixteen, Sir."
The Chinaman was back already, with a bottle and glass on a tray. He took it over to Mattie, put it on a small table next to her seat, bowed and left the room just as Mattie was thanking him. She noticed that Mr
Devine hadn't acknowledged the service, which, again saddened her. Mattie picked up her glass, Mr Devine took it from her and placed it on the table before she could drink.
Henry smirked, he had a feeling Mr Devine liked cat and mouse games.
"And where are you from?"
"From Leeds, Sir."
"Call me Luke, or Lucas, my dear."
Again, the warning bells in her head. A lady never called a man by his first name. Mr Devine should have known this.
"That's the North, isn't it? So much colder than London."
She wanted to protest that Leeds was a nice city, but refrained. Not because she didn't want to annoy him, more because she really couldn't be bothered to argue. She was rapidly losing the rose coloured glasses.
"And why did you come to London?"
"Work, Sir, the same as most people leave home for."
She put her hand out for the champagne glass again, but was forestalled once more. Mr Devine suddenly took her chin in his hand, and pinched it not too gently.
"She likes to answer back. I'm not sure I'm getting such a good bargain here. Is she a virgin?"
Mattie jumped to her feet.
"Sit down!" barked Devine. Out of sheer terror, Mattie obeyed.
"Tell Mr Devine, girl."
Mattie glared at Henry.
"Of course I'm a virgin!"
"Good, they're more interesting." Devine's tongue circled his lips with an unpleasant inference.
Mattie began to cry; Henry slapped her face hard.
"I want to go… please let me go."
"You're mine now; I say you stay." Devine looked quizzically at Henry,
and asked almost casually:
"How much do you want for it?"
Mattie suddenly realised he was referring to her. She wanted to vomit
but knew it would mean another slap. She began to pray with all her might.
"Fifty guineas."
"Greedy! But I think I'll buy it, dress it up a bit and teach it how to dance. Get some money back that way."
Mattie decided that if Devine took even a step nearer to her, she'd get her hatpin and jab him where it hurt.
"The fifty guineas!" Henry stated, and Devine looked at him coldly.
As he handed the money over to Henry, one of the Chinese men, the heavy-set one, came back into the room.
The next second Mattie almost fainted.
A tall, ginger-haired but attractive man burst into the room, aiming a pistol at Devine.
Luke raised his hands, almost whimpering: "Please don't…"
The man swept a glance of contempt over Devine, then changed his aim to Henry, who cringed.
"Henry Dawson, I'm arresting you for the attempted kidnap and trafficking of this young woman. Mr Devine I shall deal with separately. I don't want you two colluding together."
As the Chinese man seized Henry, none too gently, the newcomer took out a small enamel badge and showed it to Mattie.
"Inspector Dylan Keogh. You're safe now, my dear."
He turned his attention to Devine, who said casually:
"Do stop aiming that gun at my face, Dylan."
"Sorry, Ben. Mattie, this is Detective Benjamin Chiltern. I think you'd
agree that his acting skills are above average?"