The face shifted out of
focus and she felt the cool cloth move away from her forehead. She
hear the sound of water dripping and her forehead became dry, hot and
achey. A moment later it returned. At first blessedly cool, it
suddenly became unpleasant and drippy. A trickle ran into her ear and
she tipped her head to avoid it.
The voice scolded
gently and instructed her to rest.
Over the next day or
two, the scolding became more familiar.
It was days before she
was well enough to sit upright, and in the time she lay in bed the
nurse – Mary – alternated between singing and telling stories to
entertain. When the doctor visited, Mary told him at great length of
the prayers she had recited, the Rosaries she had sung. But in his
absence the reality was that Mary had little faith that words were
enough to heal.
Once, Melissa asked her
to explain why the difference. Why she went to such lengths to
expound upon the religious element when it simply wasn't present.
Mary was quiet for a few minutes, then muttered something that may
have been “what doesn't kill you makes you stronger”.
She sighed, relaxed
into the had wooden chair which was her station beside the bed and
took Melissa's hand in her own, large callused ones. “My dear, I
tell you this because I believe you have lived a life for which many
here would shun you if they knew of it. This far it has not marred
you, but you must know that here, such a life carries dangers.
“I have seen girls
abandoned on the streets – beaten, abused and with their souls
barely intact. They were, many of them, there for one reason. A man
had taken the only thing that a woman is valued for in this world. A
woman must be a maid until she is wed, and she is not allowed freedom
in the company of other men until she is safe with child. It is the
only way a man believes he may prove that the firstborn son and heir
is his own.
“It matters more in
wealthy circles, of course. In your circles the fall for an unwed
woman who has known a man is much farther, the shame much greater and
...” She paused, before abruptly switching tack.
“Amongst us common
folk, innocence doesn't have to be retained until the wedding night.
An agreement is often enough to formalise the affair. And many a poor
young girl has believed in the sanctity of that agreement, until the
next day, or week, when she sees her swain using the same sweet words
on another maid. There's not many men will wed a girl, however sweet
or lovely, once it's known she is experienced. They see it as
shameful. And of course, those swains that take the maidhood believe
it is something to boast about, so it is well known when a young
woman has been duped.
“The girls who can't
stand the shame, or have no support from their family run away. They
all make their way to a city in the end. And, for many of them, there
swiftly comes the realisation that they have nothing to trade. There
isn't much call for farm girl's skills in the city. These are the
girls without references, without finances and without luggage. They
have nowhere to go. And the only barrier between them and
prostitution is time. Eventually, enough time passes and they become
desperate and hungry.
“In this city, madam,
there are hundreds of girls who started as good, churchgoing,
religious girls and, because they were too trusting or innocent at a
time when dreams should be coming true, they now would choose to spit
in the eye of any God that offered to help. Those that are healthy
and still hungry, ashamed and unable to mingle with the good,
Christian folk who sneer and spit on them. There are many who are
much less fortunate.
“Through this city,
syphilis runs like a river. One splash and you're tainted for life.
The girls – they sell themselves to anyone with a few coin. And
often, alongside the coin, they get the disease. It's not always
visible, you see. In some, you see the warped limbs, the pocked faces
and the onset of insanity. But in others: in others it lurks silently
and waits for a new victim.
“The doctor is a man
of faith, but he wouldn't help one of those poor girls if she lay
crying in the street, because he is a man of money first. Those girls
help each other, when they can. A few are thoroughly gin-soaked just
to bear the worst of it, and every now and then even those who bear
the most hatred will slip an extra shot into the bottle. Because they
know, you see. They know how bad it can get and they hope that when
it is their turn, someone will take pity.
“Prayers don't help,
madam. People help. But these doctors will only help the people who
pray and keep themselves clean. I was here when the fever first
mounted and when you started talking, I made sure we were alone from
then on. No-one here knows you have chosen to lay with men and I
won't be the one to tell them. But I want you to be careful madam;
you haven't been tainted yet, but make sure you protect yourself from
the disease. Otherwise, money or not, you will find your life becomes
a lot less pleasant from then on.”
She collected the
various belongings from around her chair and walked towards the door.
“Mary! You're not
leaving?”
Her smile was grim. “I
can't stay forever, madam. And I don't like the suspicion that I
might be about to put the touch on you. I make my living fair and
clean, madam. Good day to you.”
“No, wait!” the cry
was slightly high pitched and the feeling of it leaving her throat
was agony. She dropped back, clutching at her throat, eyes wide with
shock. Mary turned and continued walking out.
“Mary,” her voice
was hoarse, but insistent. “Mary, I need you to stay, please!”
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