THE DEPRIVED... Chapter 3... Part 8.

A continuation of my book.

Beth wept hysterically as she ran and not stopping until she had reached the safety of Viaduct Street and the opening of the arch where she fell in a heap at the place she and Sam had spent the previous night. It seemed the night had grown darker and more cold than ever before, with the damp creeping into her bones so that Beth found no comfort in sleep and was forced to get up and walk around the entrance of the arch, stamping her feet and clapping her hands. She could see the lit fires, peering into the cavernous depths of the arch and would have dearly loved to go in and seek the warmth but she knew she would either be attacked and the clothes ripped from her body or at the very least thrown back out into the road. Beth shed many tears through the long night and decided that come the morning she would return to her lodgings and beg to have the blankets from the beds. It was early in the morning light that Beth made her way back to the lodgings. The door was securely locked, a large padlock affixed to a chain giving no admittance. Beth made her way to the house of Old Levistien and hammered on his door.

“Blankets?” You want your blankets back?” cried Old Levistien, on opening the door and seeing Beth standing there.
While he was not happy at the idea of her not paying for the rent, he was furious that she had the audacity to ask for the blankets back.
“Joseph!” he shouted.
For a small and misshapen figure, the old man was very strong and retained his grip on Beth’s arm and exerted pressure as she struggled to get away.
“Joseph! Go and get the law. Tell him I have a thief held captive!”
Joseph came out from the house, a tiny elfin lad with a scared white face and edged past Old Levistien and the struggling Beth, to begin running down the road and shouting at the top of his voice as to seeing his master being attacked and killed stone dead. Two policemen arrived and Old Levistien held Beth as one of them cuffed her with hard steel and he continued to hold her as he explained Beth had attacked him and demanded his property.
“She owes me money!” he shouted.

The group waited until a horse-drawn police cart came and Beth was seated inside with four other women who were cuffed in the same manner. No-one spoke, with eyes down and with a dejected hump to the shoulders. The police cart was drawn up outside the local Watchtower, a remand centre which would be the holding pen till the justice of the peace might arrive the next morning to hand out the sentences. Beth was placed in a small cell with the four women, which swelled the cell to suffocation as it already held seven more women and two young girls. There was no room to lay down and stretch out, the women sitting squeezed up against the walls. The smell was awful, not having toilets and with just a bucket in one corner. Beth felt sick and compared the stink to that of the Cesspits.

The Justice of the Peace was an angry and pompous man who suffered from flatulence and begged no-ones pardon as he passed wind each time he spoke. He dealt with each woman as if they were a tiresome job, sentencing each one in the same impersonal way and seeing some off to Newgate Prison, others who owed were sent to the Debtors Prison in Whitechapel.
“Who is this person?” he had asked on seeing Beth placed up before him.
“She has attacked me and owes me five shillings for rent. She took advantage of an old man’s heart and robbed me.”
Old Levistien reached up on tip-toe to stare out above the witness box, a trembling finger pointing out the accused.
The Justice of the Peace had much to do and spent no time in deliberation, neither looking at Beth nor interested in her welfare as he immediately sentenced her to the same fate, to be locked in the debtor’s prison until she paid the five shillings to the landlord, plus work off her keep whilst held in prison.

Beth was once more made to sit in the horse-drawn police cart along with the other women who had been sentenced to the same fate. Arriving at the prison the women were all placed in a small cell and fed on watered gruel by two grumpy and harsh Warders who demanded to know if any of the women had any money on them.
“If you have any money then you can buy some food or whatever you need.” said the taller guard. It seemed none of the women had anything, neither money nor anything of value which could be bartered for food.
“Then you’ll have to work for your keep. We won’t have no work-shies about here!”
The door clanged shut as the keys gnashed in the lock and the women inside seemed content to seek out their own little part of the cell which they might call their own.
“How long do you think we will stay here?” wailed one woman, very distressed. “I have two babies as need their mother.”
“You can have the children brought in if you has the pay to keep them.” advised Bertha, a large woman who seemed to have a good idea of the rules and therefore became the one the women turned to.
“So how long do we stay here?” asked Beth.
“How much do you owe and what’s the owing for?” asked Bertha.
“I owe a landlord five shillings. That’s what I owe for a month’s renting.”
“Five bob?” laughed Bertha grimly.
“Well if you aint got the pay, dearie, then you aint liable to qualify for freedom till you work it out with making tattie sacks. Or some fine gent comes along and does the paying for you.” she finished grimly.
“Then I’ll work hard and get out.” determined Beth.
“Well that’s all fine and noble.” said Bertha, seating herself on the floor next to Beth.
“But them sacks is never enough to pay for your keep let alone pay off the five bob you owe. Best you settles down here for a duration of time.”