Letters to the front

Chapter 51 - E.S.K 1920

Alice 

***

Day 273. Nine months since I last saw Edward. I could no longer afford the rent by month four and was evicted, and forced onto the bitter streets of London. I'd barely survived the winter, though spring was proving to be just as unforgiving. Rain relentlessly poured from the heavens and left me soaked, cold and hungry. 

My belly had swollen, and the child within me kicked and brayed to be out, the time drew nearer and I knew without a miracle, my child would likely die. I could not allow that to happen. I was desperate and willing to do anything. I couldn't sell myself, not yet anyway. My religious views prohibited it, but I needed money, otherwise I would starve. Once the child was out, it was likely that it was what would become of me. 

I often tried to find help in churches but I was often turned away, my desperate pleas going unanswered. 

It was on day 275 that my waters broke like a dam. I cried out as the pains of labour over took my body. I fell to the floor, crying out, the streets were now deserted and I was alone. I struggled into an alley way and propt myself against a door, my knees buckling so I was lying on the cold stone, as I pushed with all my might. 

The task seemed impossible. Pain extended into every fibre of my being, my eyes rolled back into my head and my hands clawed the floor, trying to find relief. Panting and gasping I tried to steady my breathing, pushing with each agonising contraction. It continued for hours, the torture seemingly never ending. I was soaked to the skin from yet another bout of rain, though thankfully, it had ceased and the air had cleared. Though it made the night cool, and the moon seemed to watch down, looking on me as if I were some lowly being. Which I truly believed I was.

I felt myself expanding, making way for something and then a terrible ripping noise.

Screaming, I felt blood pooling between my legs, I put a shaking hand between and found the babe had torn me, it felt as if it were ripping me apart. I cried out again and I heard the slick sound of something coming and then all at once, a small, blood covered creature emerged, crying loudly. 

A boy. I had given birth to a boy. I took off my cardigan and wrapped my baby in it. "Edward Sebastian" I said, "hello Eddie"

The child squalled, I unbuttoned my shirt and allowed it too suckle, rocking it back and forth as I did so. The child milked me greedily, and I panted, trying to ignore my own pain, focusing intently on my child. 

With my free hand, I reached down and tried to staunch the bleeding between my legs, the tear wasn't to big, and with hope would heal. I held the cloth firmly and prayed for myself and Edward Sebastian. 

*****

I realised I could not continue to be unemployed. No respectable employer would have me, and I would never go to a workhouse, they'd take away Edward, and i'd be trapped, i'd heard the stories of what happened to people in there. 

Deep down, I knew I only had one option left. I went to the park and tried to clean myself up a bit, running my hands through my ruined hair and scrubbing my face clean with water from the fountains. Unbuttoning my shirt a few holes and rucking my dress up to reveal my ankles, I made my way to the street corner between Park Lane and Rotchester Avenue. I stood leaning on a gate, trying to look desirable, something which was an impossible task, especially in my current state. 

Men passed in hordes, though none seemed to notice me, till a group of young men came by, laughing loudly, waving bottles of brandy. My heart froze at what I knew was going to happen. "How much, love?" one slurred. 

"Five" I said, holding my head high. 

"What? Have you seen yourself, love, no offence, but you ain't worth that"

"Four" I said through clenched teeth, "final offer"

"MINE!" shouted one, pushing his way forward, and grabbing my wrist. 

"Money. Now" I told him. He stuffed five shillings down my bra, groping my breasts and making me want to wretch, with a strain, I kept my face impassive. He took me to a loft, if it was his or not I had no idea and I lay down on the bed. Tears slid down my face but he didn't notice, unzipping his fly and lifting my skirts. 

All I could do was close my eyes and think of Edward.

****

I saw another two men that same night, and had enough to buy food. I picked Edward up from the church yard where i'd left him, I hated leaving him, but I had no choice, I could hardly have him around while I...worked.

After another three nights, I could afford rent again, much to my relief. Having a roof over my head was such a welcome sight after months on the streets. But the cold did not relent. And I could not afford fuel. I tried to keep Edward warm and well fed but still he never ceased crying. 

He was feverish and I realised it could be because he was never christened. I ran with him to the church, an old one in east London, but the vicar said he could not, because we were not members of the parish. I begged him, but still he would not. I left feeling defeated and clutched Edward close to my chest.

He was such a beautiful child, his green eyes reminded me so much of Edward. "Please, let him live, he is just a child!" I prayed, soft tears rolling down my cheeks all the way home. It pained me to leave him, but I had no choice, because we would lose what little we had if I didn't go. The land lady kept an eye on him, for a price. 

I left and went to my usual spot, picking up men all evening then returning home to my darling little boy. He still cried and I knew he was sick, like me. 

The tear he made when leaving my body had festered, and black discharge oozed from my womanhood. The men I saw were always to drunk to notice. The bleeding never stopped, my insides burned like fire. I could do nothing though, all I had was for Edward. 

The same way I gave everything I could to his father. 

****

A month later, the crying ceased. I woke to find my baby cold, and wept loudly, I couldn't stand it, I had nothing to live for anymore. 

I wrapped the body in cloth and took him to the church beseeching the vicar to allow my baby boy a Christian burial. The affair brought me back to Tess' ordeal when her child Sorrow died. 

The vicar said since he'd never been christened, he could not have a burial, but did allow me a small plot and gave me a shovel. I couldn't bear the thought of him having an unmarked grave, so I crafted one out of branches, carving his name into a rock. I couldn't manage much in my weakened state, so just wrote his initials - E.S.K

1920 

It pained me greatly that my child hadn't even seen a year of life. I had loved him from the moment he'd opened his beautiful green eyes, the same way I loved his father. 

All consuming sorrow took over my being and I stumbled from street to street, not knowing where to go, nor what to do with myself. Eventually, I found myself at knightsbridge. I stared into the thames, the murky depths seemed menacing but upon closer reflection I found it oddly comforting, it seemed to beckon me to it, to join my child in heaven, should I be allowed to enter.

My delirious body rocked from side to side and I gripped the railings for support, before mounting onto the wall, swaying in the breeze, my emaciated form likely to be blown off by a gust of wind. 

"Alice!" called a voice. It was so sweet, so familiar, one I had almost forgotten. 

"Alice, no!"

I closed my eyes and smiled, I would be home soon, there would be no more of this pain and suffering. 

My foot hovered over the edge and just as I was about to step into the air strong arms snatched my back, pulling me away from the dangerous ledge. "Oh Alice" sighed the voice, it was the voice of an angel, only it was sad, and that was wrong, angels shouldn't be sad.

The angel cried, and I tried to reach out through the darkness, desperate to tell the angel it was alright, but the only sound I could make was "I-I" 

My knees buckled and I collapsed. "I'm sorry, Alice, I'm so sorry" was the last thing I heard before the blackness swallowed me.