No trace: Part Two of The Accidental Trilogy

Chapter Eighteen

In the year 1896, I return to London. Safe in the knowledge that whatever supposed family I may have had, blood-related or no, are no more. A smoky, mysterious city that most definitely has a different feeling to the one I left behind. Victoria may be in her twilight years, but the city she and her husband set about improving keeps on moving at a cracking pace.

I intend to stay for longer than I did last time and to that end move out of the city itself, settling in Harrow for a spell.

I stay in Harrow for a short while, before returning to London. Busking won't satisfy for proper rent and I want to live comfortably, with Andrea in equally agreeable circumstances.

Criminal enterprises. As always, they exist, and I seek them out, with all the dexterity of the most highly trained bloodhound.

I restrict myself to London and soon employed by a group, working as the respectable front to their business.

It pays well and I don't even have to ask for a raise for rent in a half-decent neighbourhood.

When the Archduke of Austro-Hungary is shot, I have been keeping up to date with world affairs enough to know that the impact will be devastating. Not only that, I know full well there will be no chance of serving in any meaningful way. This war will be fought in the trenches. Close quarters and no real chance of remaining undiscovered for long.

I move back to America the day before war is officially declared and decide to live in Washington on my rather lucrative savings, to stay close to proper news sources.

I don't dare participate in suffrage activities, but I donate coins and notes when asked. In response to their protests, the administration sees fit to imprison them. In order to let off a little steam, I slash a few police car tires.

When the war reaches America, I consider New York but I refuse to leave Andrea for long periods. As much as I appreciate modernity and the new fashions that it brings, the fewer chances of riding from place to place is a sad prospect.

Criminality certainly pays well, even as far from any real action as I am. Any time it seems that I becoming too close, I move and choose new employers. I start wearing wigs, and swap them round whenever I change locations.

After the war, I find myself in Chicago, a real happening place. Despite the separation anxieties, I find a local riding school out of the city proper and lend Andrea there. The owners are good people who treat their other horses well and Andrea is happy to be out in a field.

The city is not really suitable for farm life, but the nightlife is indeed impressive. I rent a tiny flat - apartment as they're known in this part of the world and go out to clubs and bars until all hours.

My profession pays well and since I pay for drinks occasionally, I collect a few hangers-on who call themselves my closest friends and cling on.

I don't really mind, we all know deep down that these friendships are as thin as our dresses and tear more easily. But it's nice to have support, especially when prohibition hits and drinking at all hours becomes a little more challenging. I find myself retreating to the use of wigs and I'm not the only one. Most nights, we will wear matching outfits, or we will all be blondes, or with a black bob and red lipstick. Some nights I dare to be a redhead.

But the attention, however drunk and dazed it generally may be, is appreciated. I still get people staring, but I almost don't notice it anymore.

'Oh, go on, let's have another before we go down to the club!' Mitzi, a few years older than the rest of us, gestures to the barman before any of us can reply.

'A few handsome gentlemen there to dance with,' Delys, a sweet girl, not quite an innocent now, accepts the gin and ice pushed across to her and sips it quickly.

'They may be handsome, but they're not there to dance!' Kitty tells her warningly.

The rest of us laugh and we all finish our drinks and pay, before staggering out to the next place.

The club is indeed packed and I get a few advances from gentlemen, however, calling them that is taking things a bit too far. A few more bars, before the four of us tumble off home. Mitzi, Kitty and I are the wise old aunts to Delys, and sometimes have to keep her from going off with men who aren't gents.

The next morning when I wake, I'm back in my flat, makeup still on and with a couple of new friends on either side of me.

Not an unusual occurrence, but today is a Wednesday, the day that I go to the country to visit Andrea.

I make coffee and the sound of the liquid bubbling and burbling wakes up my guests. 'Ah fuck it I'm late,' the businessman swears and curses as I hear him fumble for his clothes and the other one, the trumpet player is calmer and lights up. I mutter under my breath, I'm not fond of these cigarettes and cigars, they smell foul and the smell itself lingers for a while.

I put out a cup for the businessman, who quickly departs after a couple of sips and a muttered thanks, the musician lingers longer, gives me a peck on the cheek before I kick him out.

I clean the flat before getting ready to leave. Airing out the place, I keep some strong cleaning solutions - old familiar ingredients like vinegar and lemons. The lemons are expensive but I can't keep my flat - sorry, apartment, smelling like an ashtray for long.

Since my country and city lives are kept carefully separate from the other, I make the journey there and back in speck form.

Today, however, just before I put my riding boots on, there is a knock at the door, Delys is there in tears.

'Oh, Amy you have to help me, I'm in so much trouble,' she bursts out in stops and starts.

'Here sit down,' I gesture to my sofa, which she does, sobbing her eyes out and I hand her the tissues and a fresh cup of coffee when she looks steadier. She dabs at her eyes and then takes a few sips at the coffee.

Inwardly, I'm pissed; it's not too late in the morning, but still. This is my day.

'What's going on Delys?'

'My father, he's found out what I've been doing while I've been living with my cousins. He's very angry with me, with everyone.'

'And you came here?'

'No one else was up.' I'm flattered.

'Is your father threatening to have you sent off to a convent or something?'

'He was going to send me to college, but now he thinks I should just get married instead. I really did want to go to college.' She starts crying again and I find myself patting her on the back in a pseudo-reassuring manner. I have to wonder what the appeal is on college for Delys, studious isn't a word I'd use to describe her.

'How about you stay with me instead?'

'What?' Good question, what the hell was I doing? I liked to have my space and Delys was, as proven recently, clingy and teary.

'I work as a secretary. I meet with your father, dress the part, educated, well mannered' - I've always been good at playing a part - 'and tell him I'll keep you out of the clubs and get you a job. A few months of good behaviour, you'll be on your way to college.' Three months.

'That might work.'

'Let's get this plan together then.' Dammit. There goes my free day. 'Go wash your face, I'll lend you a couple of things.'

The father is as expected, blustering, angry and shouts a lot. I keep my posture, expression and general demeanour penitent and innocent and have briefed Delys on what to say, she goes through the motions as instructed. I almost believe her. But the deed is done, I have a roommate and now, I have to get closer to the criminal side of the business I'm working in, yes, currently as a secretary, but I hand that job to Delys. It's the respectful front of it and it's perfect for her. But I keep an eye on her regardless.

The day she leaves on the train for Boston and College, she's ecstatic and gleeful and I almost don't miss the three months of restricted movement. Kitty and Mitzi join me to wave her off.

But the years of criminal activities in more restricted times, is starting to catch up with me.

Tricks and travelling in speck form when I can, wigs and extensive makeup can only keep me out of the clink for so long. After a few more years of travelling the country, I decide to go back to Europe.