He met Alice’s startled gaze with a question in his eyes.
‘Yes, of course I will. I think it’s a splendid idea. Put your coat on, Flora, and your best bonnet.’
‘You do realise that you could find yourself in serious trouble if we’re found out.’ Rory said in a low voice. ‘I wouldn’t ask it of you, but I think Flora will need you when she discovers that reality is sometimes hard to take.’
She nodded. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Blossom Street. It’s in Spitalfields, off White Lion Street. I’m afraid it’s not the most salubrious area in London.’
Rory had spoken the truth. Blossom Street sounded romantic and brought visions of trees in springtime decked with pink and white flowers, but nothing could be further from the truth. White Lion Street itself was lined on both sides with terraced Georgian townhouses, once owned by affluent silk weavers, but now fading into genteel poverty. Blossom Street was a mixture of warehouses, workshops and cheap lodging houses. The cabby had been reluctant to venture this far, but a large tip from Rory had persuaded him to wait for them on the corner.
The snow was knee-deep, giving Blossom Street a charm that it otherwise did not possess. Alice clutched Flora’s hand as they made their way to the address where Rory hoped to find Molly Bishop, Flora’s birth mother. He paused outside a red-brick house with green shutters that were hanging off their hinges, and a front door where the lower panels had either rotted or had been deliberately kicked in. Finding it unlocked, Rory opened it and stepped inside. Alice and Flora followed him, but the stench was suffocating and Alice covered her nose and mouth with her hand. Flora looked up at her, wrinkling her nose.
‘That’s disgusting,’ she said loudly.
‘Don’t worry,’ Rory said cheerfully. ‘It’s bound to get worse. If my information is correct Molly Bishop lives in the basement.’ He opened a door beneath the staircase and they were engulfed in a waft of fetid air.
‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ Alice asked anxiously. ‘We could leave now, Flora.’
‘No,’ Flora said in a small voice. ‘I won’t leave without seeing my mama.’
Rory patted her on the shoulder. ‘All right, Floss, we’ve come this far.’ He met Alice’s gaze with a smile. ‘I’ll take her if you’d rather wait here.’
‘No,’ Alice said stoutly. ‘We’re in this together. Lead on.’
They descended into almost pitch-darkness where the evil-smelling air felt thick and cloying, like walking through a peasouper. The rancid odour of the tallow candle at the foot of the stairs added to the noxious vapours, and in its dim light there appeared to be just two rooms leading off a narrow hallway.
Rory motioned them to wait while he investigated the nearest, but he came out shaking his head. ‘You don’t want to go in there.’ He disappeared into the room at the rear of the building and returned moments later. ‘She’s in there, but you can change your mind, Flora. You don’t have to put yourself through this if it’s too much for you.’
‘Yes, Flora,’ Alice said earnestly. ‘We can leave some money for your mother and she’ll understand. She made a huge sacrifice in giving you up.’
‘I want to see her, and I want to ask her why she did it.’
Rory picked up the candle. ‘I hope I’ve done the right thing by bringing you here.’
‘It’s a bit late to worry about that, isn’t it?’ Alice tightened her hold on Flora’s small hand. ‘I’m with you, dear.’
The appalling smell was made worse by the stench of unwashed bodies and human excrement. Even in the dim light of a single candle Alice could see fungus sprouting from the lichen-encrusted walls, and she was aware of hunched shapes, some lying on the floor as if dead to the world, while others propped themselves up against the bare brickwork. All of them were clad in filthy rags. The more fortunate adults wore boots, but the children appeared to be barefoot in the bone-chilling cold. A loud keening made Alice’s blood curdle in her veins.
‘What do you want, guv? If you’re the landlord we ain’t got no money for rent.’ One of the shadowy shapes rose with difficulty, holding out stick-like arms. ‘Have pity on a poor widow, sir.’
Rory took a step forward, keeping a wary eye on the other occupants of the cellar. ‘Are you Molly Bishop?’
The woman shrank back into the darkness and another, bolder figure stepped forward. ‘Who wants to know? If you’re the law then I never done nothing wrong. It were Long Nell what bashed the cove over the head. I weren’t even there at the time.’
‘I’m not the law, madam,’ Rory said hastily. ‘If you are Molly Bishop speak up. There’s someone who wants to meet you.’ He held the candle closer to reveal a woman who, despite her dishevelled appearance, was better dressed and fractionally cleaner than the other occupants of the cellar.
‘And if I am Molly Bishop, what would the likes of you want with me?’
‘It was your child’s Christmas wish to meet her mother.’ Rory placed a protective hand on Flora’s shoulder. ‘This is your daughter, or so I’ve been led to believe.’
Molly clutched her bony hands to her breast. ‘Is it really you, Fanny?’
‘Flora,’ Rory said sternly. ‘Her name is Flora.’
‘Of course it is. My mind wanders something terrible these days.’
‘It’s the laudanum, my duck.’ The woman who had spoken first cackled with laughter. ‘Got a penny piece so she can get some more, guv?’
‘Shut up, you old troll.’ Molly peered at Flora, twisting her lips into a parody of a smile. ‘Come to your mama, darling.’
Flora’s fingers curled around Alice’s hand and she shook her head.
‘You’re frightening her, ma’am,’ Alice said, drawing Flora closer.
‘You are me long lost child.’ Molly insisted. ‘Me little daughter what was robbed from me by rich folk. I never wanted to give you up, me little angel.’
Rory stepped in between them. ‘That’s not quite true, is it, Molly?’
‘As I said just now, I’m the child’s mother.’ She inched towards Flora. ‘I was tricked into giving you away, my baby girl.’
‘As I heard it you were quite handsomely paid,’ Rory said calmly. ‘Where are your other children? You had seven of them, according to Smithson.’ He held up his hand as Molly opened her mouth to protest. ‘I know she’s not the most reliable witness, but when I tracked her down yesterday she was reasonably sober and it was she who told me where to find you.’
‘Well, I could lie to you, guv, but the sad truth is that they’re all gone. The little ’uns is buried in paupers’ graves and the older ones have run away, the ungrateful brats. They left their
