Masquerade

Chapter 1: Left

London, 1871

(Mari’s POV)

“Go and see if you could get us some food for the trip back,” Captain Mark said to me as Paulette and I emerged from our quarters. Paulette stood on shaky legs and she still looked a bit green, strands of her blonde locks were sticking to the sides of her face, and her clothes reeked of day-old vomit.

I clasped her hand and started to walk towards the bustling fish market.

We walked along, bumping into people as we did. The smell of freshly caught fish hung in the air; left and right, fish were being skinned and gutted, heads were flying into barrels.

Paulette put her palm to her mouth and ran to a nearby barrel of fish heads, and vomited whatever she had left in her stomach. I scrunched up my nose at the stench, but held my hand out to my friend.

“Let’s find some place and get you clean,” I told her. Paulette nodded and clasped my hand following me on unsteady feet, like a newborn pony follows its mother.

Soon, we were out of sight of the dock, and the smell of fish had ceased; I looked ahead to see that they had a market place set up, selling fruit and vegetables by the pound. I started to wander over to a nearby stand, which was selling grapes in big bushels, when Paulette stopped me. I looked back and her round eyes were big and pleading.

“Please,” she said, hoarsely, “My stomach isn’t doing well right now, and I don’t think that food is going to help it.”

“We won’t eat, I’ll just look. I have to scan and see what we can take back with us,” I explained. Paulette nodded and started to follow me again.

On the left side were fruit stands—apples, oranges, nectarines, peaches, pears, grapes, watermelons, tomatoes—and the right stood a line of vegetable stands—squash, cucumbers, lettuce, onions, rhubarb, pumpkins. My mouth watered at the sight of them, my stomach growled, begging for some of the delicious-looking morsels in front of me.

Paulette whimpered, and that was a signal for me to go on. I walked past the stands and started walking into the town itself.

The farther we walked, the grayer the town seemed to become; the only lights there seemed to be were the flickering flames in the gas lamps, although, a faint glow was coming from one gray, brick, building.

I turned and stepped onto the little cement step. I held out my arm to push the door open—when a man fell, backwards, out of it.

I let go of Paulette’s hand and went to go kneel by the man’s side.

“Are you alright sir?” I asked, helping the man sit up a little. As soon as the man sat up, he let out a great belch and then fell back onto the cobble stone. Deciding to leave him there, I got up and then Paulette and I walked inside.

There was loud music and shouting, people were dancing and women were sitting on men’s lap, letting the men whisper in their ears and then laughing, loudly at whatever they had said.

Clutching Paulette’s hand, tightly, I made my way through the throng of people, and up to the bar, where a pretty blonde woman was serving up drinks.

“Hello Luv, what can I get for you?” she asked, loudly, as she leaned towards us.

“We were wondering if you had any rooms available for my friend to refresh herself,” I said.

“Yes we do. Emelina,” she hollered to a petite red head, who popped up from a man’s lap; the man didn’t notice as he was lifting his mug of ale to his lips, “take this girl upstairs so that she can bathe and get a fresh change of clothes.” The redhead smiled and then put her hand on Paulette’s back, who let go of my hand with a whimper, and then took her to a staircase. I ran my hands over my face, trying to wipe away my feeling of exhaustion.