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The smog of Birmingham never agreed with Elsie, probably because she wasn't used to it. The streets were kept from her vision most her life, never really stepping out unless it was for a few minutes at a time. So, when the Kingsley's wanted her to pay for the damage 'she caused' to her costume, being injured, she was out on the look out for a job against her better judgement.
She was a tiny thing, only 23. The whole company was just given enough food to survive. Walking down the street in her faded, red dress without an escort and looking so tiny made her look vulnerable. She was leered at by men all the way down to were she was heading.
The Garrison.
A pub wasn't a place for a proper lady, not a place someone like her should have been, but she ignored the nagging feeling in her stomach and stepped into the pub.
"Can I help you, Ma'am?" The only man there asked as he mopped the floor.
Elsie swallowed deeply. She was nervous to be out here. Out in unfamiliar territory with no one but herself, "I'm- I'm looking for a job. I read your advertisement in the paper. I'm Elsie."
The man stopped his mopping to look up at the woman. She was not a fit for this place, "I'm sorry, I've just hired someone, they're in the back." Elsie physically sagged. This was the sixth time she'd been turned away from a job, and this was her last resort. Her only resort.
Elsie pulled out a chair and slummed in it. Her hands rose to her face, trying to stop tears from escaping her eyes. Her only hope of not becoming a whore had gone, "I'm done for." She whispered.
"I'm Harry Fenton." The man introduced himself as he moved towards the chair across from her, "Why is someone like you looking for a job here?"
Elsie watched with careful as he slid into the chair, "I owe people lodging money. I don't want to have to-" She couldn't even bear the thought of having to sell herself to pay off the Kingsley's, "This is the only other place hiring."
Harry's eyes never left the woman, her whole demeanour just fascinating. Sure, plenty of people are desperate for jobs, but he'd never seen someone as desperate as her before, "Where are you from, Elsie?"
"I live at the theatre down the road-"
"You're a dancer?" He asked curiously, "Doesn't that pay?"
Elsie shook her head, "I got injured, and I'm still in recovery."
Any other person, Harry would have turned away, but Elsie seemed like a good person, "I expect you to start straight away, as a barmaid. I think I can pay for two."
Elsie was shocked. This was an act of kindness, something she never experienced, "I can start now, yes." She agreed, raising to her feet to shake the man's hand, "Thank you, you will not regret your decision, Mr. Fenton."
