Alex Gray - A Pound Of Flesh

‘Coming to bed?’ Maggie Lorimer stood in the doorway, feeling the chill from the room swirl around her ankles. She smiled ruefully, glancing down at her new silk negligee, a Christmas present from Bill. He’d been so tired lately, and now this idea of pacing the streets on a cold January night was just too much to bear. Could she tempt him into staying home with her?

‘Aye, why not.’ His eyes flicked over her from head to toe with that lazy smile that made her stomach flip in anticipation.

‘And,’ she paused for a second, ‘will you stay there afterwards?’

He shook his head but the smile did not falter. ‘Go on, I’ll be right up.’

The room was not completely dark, a flickering light from the street lamp outside shining through the window where Maggie had left the curtains still tied back. It was a wild night, wind whistling through the trees and rain lashing against the window, rattling the panes. Maggie smiled, remembering the lines from a poem that one of her third years had recited yesterday at the school’s Burns Supper. The Bard’s entrance to the world had been heralded by

‘ … a blast o’ Janwar Win’.

Her smile faded as a different thought came into Maggie’s head. Somewhere out in that storm there were women plying their ancient trade, fighting not just against the elements but against the pull of the drug that forced them into the streets night after lonely night. Bill’s determination to seek them out and ask questions was typical of the kind of man her husband was. He’d worry away at a problem until something yielded. There had not been much said about the Pattison case, only that Mrs Pattison was now helping with their enquiries. Maggie’s raised eyebrow had given her husband a chance to tell her more but he’d not chosen to go into any further details.

‘Hope you’re not sleeping, Mrs Lorimer,’ he said softly, slipping into bed beside her. Then, as his arms encircled her, Maggie’s thoughts about what her husband might find out later during the wee small hours vanished as her body responded to his.

Lily cried out as the man slammed her against the wall but her protest only served to make the punter more excited as he pushed himself into her, forcing her head back as his grunts became louder and louder.

It was soon over and she breathed a silent prayer of gratitude as he released her from his grip.

There was no word of thanks, no word at all, as he tucked his shirt back into his trousers and headed back down the cobbled lane leaving Lily shivering with a mixture of fear and disgust. The rain that had made puddles all along the rutted lane had become a thin drizzle, soaking through her clothes and making rats’ tails of her hair. She should do something with it, tie it into a band or something; tidy herself up in case another punter came her way. But that last encounter seemed to have leached every last drop of the girl’s energy and she stood there wanting only to add her tears to the water running down her face.

Some of the other girls had mentioned you might get ones like this; brutes who only wanted a quick shag and could be rough about it. You were a body for sale, that was all, Doreen had told her with a laugh as though it were a matter of no significance at all.

Well, maybe it wasn’t such a big deal, Lily thought, gathering up her bag and straightening her skirt. The oldest profession , one of the women at the drop-in centre had called it, though Lily hadn’t been sure if the words had been spoken with pride or sarcasm.

She heard his footsteps before she saw him. Bracing herself for the approach of another punter so soon after the one that had left her, Lily leaned back against the wall, tugging her coat more closely around her. The man who was walking towards her was tall and strong-looking, but something about the way he walked on the other side of the lane, dodging the puddles, made Lily feel a little less anxious.

He regarded her with interest as he approached, then, just as Lily had decided he was definitely a potential customer, he pulled out a card with a familiar badge.

‘Hello,’ he said, ‘I’m Detective Superintendent Lorimer.’

Lily blinked as the tall man gazed down at her. ‘Are you wanting…?’

He shook his head and smiled. ‘Sorry to intrude on your working hours, but, no, all I want from you is some information.’

‘Oh,’ Lily said and for a moment she felt a stab of disappointment. Being taken by this man would have made up for the hurt she’d just had, she felt sure of it.

‘Are you married?’ she asked suddenly.

‘Yes. Very happily,’ the tall man replied. And there was something sincere in his tone that made Lily glad. Not all men were brutes, then, were they? Some of them didn’t need to come out in the dark and wet looking for the likes of her to answer their needs.

‘What’s your name?’ Lorimer asked.

‘Lily.’

‘Well, Lily, I’m hoping some of you street girls can assist me with a case.’ He paused then fished into an inside pocket of his coat bringing out a folded sheet of paper that had been coated in some shiny plastic stuff. Lily stepped forward as he unfolded the paper, revealing photographs of four different women.

‘Did you ever know any of them?’

Lily put a wet finger on to the laminated sheet as she peered at the pictures.

‘Sorry, no. Don’t know any of them. Who are they?’ she asked.

The tall man’s face grew grim as he refolded the paper and put it into his pocket. ‘Who were they, you might have asked. They’re all dead, Lily.’

‘Oh.’ The girl bit her lip wondering if she’d said something wrong.

‘They were all street lasses, like you, Lily. But someone took their lives from them. And it’s our job — the police’s job — to find out who that was before he can harm any other wee lassie.’

‘Is that why you’re out on a night like this?’ Lily asked as a gutter beside them began to overflow and splash onto the cobbles. She moved out of the way, coming closer to the policeman who had shifted into a doorway opposite.

‘Aye, it is,’ Lorimer replied. ‘And how about you?’

Lily gave a shrug but said nothing. He knew fine why she was out here, why they were all out here. The need for money. The need for a fix.

‘There’s something else, Lily, something you may have heard about in the news. A man called Edward Pattison was killed recently.’

‘Oh, him? The one in the parliament?’

‘That’s right. What I want to know, Lily, is if you ever saw him around this area.’

‘In the drag, you mean? No.’ She bit her lip and looked away, suddenly ashamed that there was nothing she could offer this nice big man. ‘I haven’t been doing this for very long,’ she admitted, her eyes cast down so she did not need to look him straight in the face.

‘Listen, lass, it’s not too late for you to get help. This doesn’t have to be the way things are, you know,’ Lorimer told her gently.

‘There are places that can help you to get clean.’

Lily’s eyes did not change their focus and the cobbles at her feet seemed to hold a greater fascination for her than the man whose words were making her feel so uncomfortable.

‘Here’s my card,’ Lorimer said. ‘If you hear anything about Mr Pattison, or anyone who saw him, can you let me know?’ Lily nodded silently, her head still bent.

‘And if you ever just want to talk you only have to ring my number. Okay?’

As he walked away Lily wanted to run after him, catch the sleeve of his dark coat, beg him to take her away from this dreary lane, this empty life. But how could he? She swallowed down the tears as his figure disappeared around a corner. There hadn’t even been any mention of paying her for information, had there? she thought bitterly. And money was what she needed most right now.