Chapter Twenty

I spend the rest of the day running through my apartment, trying everything. The bath has a thousand different options and I switch each of them on in turn until I’m lying in a large, foam-filled, rose-scented swimming pool sized bath having my back pummelled by several different jets of water. I sigh and lean pack, relishing in my enormous good fortune, miraculously forgetting what I’m here to do and why exactly my life is suddenly so luxurious.

“Your champagne, Miss Hitches?” A waitress asks, walking into the bathroom, a large, gloriously expensive-looking champagne bottle in her hand.

“Yes, put it on the side.” I say, pointing to the only bubble-free surface in the entire bathroom. One of the many perks of my apartment is that the building, rather like a hotel, has staff on hand who can bring up priceless bottles of champagne at my slightest command. I reach for the bottle and pull out the cork before doing something which would shock my late mother into oblivion; I drink straight from the bottle. I don’t really like champagne but, if it’s on offer, I might as well have it. Once all the champagne and bubbles have gone, I get out of the bath and prepare to find the most dazzling outfit I can to impress Charles. It doesn’t matter that it’s already dark outside; Charles never sleeps anyway. Besides, it might be morning by the time I look suitably glamorous.

I make my way from the cavernous bathroom into the bedroom where the walk-in wardrobe, which some extremely kind soul has helpfully stocked, awaits. I fling open the doors and walk in, relishing in the sight of the clothes which I once despised. With no one to help me, I start by pulling out random items of clothing before throwing them on the floor where someone, no doubt a maid, will pick them up again.

I pull out a red leather skirt but quickly discard it the second I see my reflection in the mirror. I look as though I’ve just stepped off of the street. In the end, after trying on almost everything in the wardrobe (a cashmere jumper doesn’t really say sexy, does it?) I settle on my old favourite; a black dress. This one’s slinky and has a low-cut bodice as well as no back. I show just enough flesh without showing too much. Absolutely perfect.

It takes me a few minutes to locate a jewellery box in the mess which is my wardrobe floor but, when I do, I am rewarded. I am rich, very rich. I select a large emerald necklace, which is probably worth more than the entire building, and clasp it around my neck, marvelling at the way the green stones catch the light. I delve into the jewellery box once more, coming out with a matching emerald ring which I slide onto my finger. I decide to exert some will power when it comes to a tiara though; I do not want to look like I’ve robbed a jewellers.

I paint my lips my now customary bright red before piling my hair up on my head. It’s surprisingly hard to do when you haven’t got anyone to help you. I put a pair of black heels on and look in the mirror. I am ready.

When I step out of the lift and into the lobby, every head turns in my direction. It might be late but the city is still wide awake. I sashay up to the imbecile at the desk, delighting in the jealous gaze she shoots my emeralds.

“Excuse me, would you be able to find the address of Charles Grey for me please?” I ask sweetly.

“Of course.” She mutters.

I gaze around the lobby. Everyone’s looking at me. Perfect.

“Here it is.” She says after a couple of minutes, sliding a piece of paper across the desk.

“Thank you.” I say as I walk out of the lobby, leaving several old men staring at my backside as I descend the steps. A black car is waiting outside the building and I get in, not bothering to question whether it’s for me or not.

“Could you take me here please?” I ask, handing the driver the piece of paper.

“Of course.” He says before handing it back to me. For the first time, I look at it and commit it to my memory just in case.

The clock on the dashboard reads 11:47 and yet, the city is still wide awake. Bright lights glare down at the car as I am driven through the busy, sin-filled city streets. Scantily-clad women parade up and down the pavement, selling everything they have for another high. Young women retch into gutters whilst predatory men gaze on, biding their time like a good hunter. I avert my eyes from the scenes of debauchery, knowing that it is not something someone of my birth and wealth should see.

“Here we are.” The driver says as we pull up outside a building, not dissimilar to my own. “Do you want me to wait for you?”

“No thank you.” I say, confident in my reception.

I walk into the lobby.

“I’m here for Charles Grey.” I say to the receptionist at the desk.

“I bet you are.” The young man says, eying my bared cleavage.

I ignore him. “Where might I find him?”

“Top floor. Penthouse.” He says, his eyes still fixed on my chest.

“Thank you.” I say, tipping the water from a nearby vase of flowers on his lap. He needed to cool down.

My hands shake as the lift climbs up to the top floor. People come and go but eventually, I am the only person left in the lift. I step out and knock on the large wooden door.

“Rebecca?”

“Can I come in?” I ask.

“Of course.” He says, eying my elaborate outfit. “What exactly are you doing here?” He asks once I’m safely inside.

“I came to see you, of course.”

“Right.”

“I’m sorry, Charles. I’m so sorry.” I say, stepping towards him.

“Right.”

“I mean, I was such a fool, flirting with Sebastian. I’m so sorry. How can I make it up to you?” I gush, tears flowing freely down my perfectly made up face.

“Rebecca-“

“I’m in love with you, you see. I always have been, from the moment I set eyes on you.”

“Rebe-“

“And I just want to be with you forever. I’ll always love you.” I say through sobs.

“REBECCA!” He shouts, “DON’T YOU REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE?”

“Of course, I’m Elizabeth Hitches.” I say. He grips the door frame for support, breathing heavily.

“No,” He says once he’s calmed down, “You aren’t Elizabeth. You’re Rebecca.”

“I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do know. You see, this,” He says, gesturing to my get-up, “Isn’t the girl I met on a cold day after she’d been attacked by thugs. This isn’t the tough girl who wanted to change the world.”

“I’m being Elizabeth.” I say earnestly, stepping towards him again now that he’s calmed down.

“No, you’re not Elizabeth. You never will be. I don’t know who you are anymore. You see, when I kissed you, I wasn’t kissing the rich girl you’re pretending to be. I was kissing Rebecca.”

“I AM REBECCA!” I shout.

“Not anymore you’re not.” He says, flopping to the floor, “You aren’t the girl I loved.”

“Yes I-“

“No, you’ve morphed into another one of them.” He says sadly, his head in his hands.

“I’m still me.” I insist.

“I don’t know who you are anymore.” He mutters.

I take one look at the broken man on the floor and run out of the door, slamming it shut behind me. I run through the lobby, ignoring the shocked stares of the sedate people gathered there. I run down the streets which are filled with the debauchery I thought was beneath me. I sprint past the homeless people who live out on the streets, cold and hungry, whilst I play at being a rich kid. I ignore the predatory stares of the sleazy men. Eventually, I can run no further and I rest, panting, against a doorway.

“Please, Miss…” I plaintive voice calls through the bitingly cold wind. I whip around to find a girl who looks like she’s fifteen, sitting in the doorway, her blankets not concealing her painfully thin frame. I look into her hungry green eyes. “Do you have anything to spare, Miss?” She asks, her voice thin and frail. I look at her and suddenly, I feel dirty. The girl on the floor is me, as I was a few weeks ago. I am not Elizabeth Hitches; I am Rebecca Grace Parker, a fifteen, nearly sixteen year old girl who, by some lucky card, was saved from the fate which this girl shall surely meet. I’m surprised it took a starving girl to make me realise it. Suddenly I feel dirty. I am a fake. I am a phoney. I am despicable. Even I hate myself.

“Miss?” The girls asks again.

I look down at the little wretch. “Come with me.” I say.

“Where?” She asks quickly. Clearly she has been approached with such offers before.

“No,” I say, “Not like that.” She looks at me distrustfully, unable to see past my rich jewels and expensive clothes. “I have an apartment with food and clothes. Come with me.” I say, holding out my hand, hoping that she decides to trust me. She smiles and her green eyes don’t seem so hungry anymore. She takes my hand and follows me like a dog to the apartment.

“What’s your name?” I ask once we’ve stepped inside.

“Amelia Becket.” She murmurs, gazing around at her lavish surroundings with wide eyes.

“Elizabeth, Elizabeth Hitches.”

She smiles, hugging her thin arms to her chest.

“Food?” I ask, searching through the cupboards and throwing a box of chocolates at her. She catches them and holds them reverently. “You eat them.” I say, laughing. I find a ready-made steak pie in the fridge. I stare at the instructions for a while. Cooking’s beyond me so I just shove it in the space-age microwave to heat up. I look over at Amelia. She’s finished the chocolates and is now gazing at the crystal chandeliers. “D’you need a bath?” She nods frantically, her mouth stuffed full of chocolate truffles.

She follows me into the bathroom and watches with wide eyes as I turn on all the taps, creating a swimming pool filled with delectable scents and bubble baths for her. I smile and leave her to it, returning to the steak pie.

I pour myself a glass of champagne and make my way out onto the balcony. I stare at the bright lights of the sinful city. Perhaps by helping one poor soul, I will be redeemed; my sins forgiven. Truthfully, I would have walked on had I not have seen myself in her starving green eyes. I’ll show Charles that I’m still the same person. I vow not to be the selfish, frivolous person I became. The oven beeps loudly, interrupting my reflection and I down the last of the champagne before returning to the kitchen.

I remove the small pie from the oven and place it on a plate which I keep warm in the oven. Then, I make my way to my wardrobe and locate a cashmere jumper and a pair of jeans. I take them through to the bathroom where Amelia lies surrounded by bubbles. Her eyes light up as she sees the warm, luxurious cashmere jumper and, despite myself, I can’t help smiling. I tell her that there’s a steak pie in the oven before leaving her to go in search of more champagne.

The doorbell rings. I jump.

“Yes?” I say, opening the door. A man, dressed head to toe in black is standing on the doorstep. “Would you like to come in?” I ask, masking my shock. He says nothing but thrusts a large parcel into my hands before turning away. Puzzled, I make my way to the sofa and open the envelope careful. I slide the first paper out. I begin to read.

Details of Mission

Elizabeth Hitches, currently residing in the penthouse of Queen’s Building, Londonderry, is to embark on this mission tomorrow, on the 1^st of October. The mission is as follows:

Elizabeth Hitches is to gain the trust of respected government official, Hugh Church, father of Sebastian Church. Mr Church is currently residing at West Mews, Chelsea.

Once she has gained the trust of Church, she is to document his movements. Everything must be documented, from where he eats breakfast to who his friends are. No detail is too small.

Elizabeth Hitches is to leave all documents under the loose floorboard in the corridor where they will be collected by a trusted member of our society at midnight every night. Elizabeth Hitches is not to talk to the official under any circumstances. She is to wait in Londonderry until she receives instructions telling her to do otherwise.

My heart racing, I slide out the next sheet of paper. My eyes scan the page rapidly.

Details of Mr Church

Mr Church is currently living alone in West Mews, his wife and son currently residing in the country. Mr Church is not content in his marriage and his house is often filled with young women of questionable moral standing. Mr Church can usually be found in his apartment from 6pm onwards after he has returned from his government duties. Mr Church travels to The Government Buildings at approximately 7:30 each morning, except for Sundays, which he spends at his home or in the meadow, riding one of his horses.

Mr Church is a keen horseman and usually exercises one of his horses in the West Meadow at 7pm every day, except for on Sundays when he frequents the meadow at random times, usually in the morning.

Mr Church rarely eats out, preferring to dine alone for fear of being poisoned. He is rarely seen in society, preferring society to come to him. He is often alone in his house, apart from his servants, after 9pm. Women of questionable moral standing often visit him on Fridays and Mondays. Mrs Church does not know about this.

Without thinking, I slide out the next sheet of paper, discarding the previous two on the sofa beside me.

Proposed Plan of Action

It has been decided that the best course of action for Miss Elizabeth Hitches is for her to gain the trust of Mr Church using her ‘feminine wiles’. She must pretend to be silly and ignorant whilst recording every single word Mr Church says to her. She must trick him into telling her important information by pretending to be ignorant.

Elizabeth Hitches must go to the residence of Mr Church tomorrow at 9pm. There, she must attempt to persuade him to take her ‘under his wing’ before leaving approximately an hour later. Once Mr Church has taken her ‘under his wing’ she must frequent the house more regularly until Mr Church trusts her completely. Then, she must probe him gently to get the optimum amount of information out of him. She will relate everything in her daily reports.

I put the sheet of paper down and find the next one.

In Case of Disaster

Should the mission go wrong and Mr Church begin to suspect something, Elizabeth Hitches must kill him, staging his death as a suicide. This may be necessary once he has told her all he knows about the government and its plans.

She will then destroy any evidence of the mission before returning to Park Manor where she will wait until news of the death of Mr Church comes. She will pretend to be shocked and will comfort his wife and son. She must ensure that nobody ever suspects that she was involved with Mr Church in anyway.

The final piece of paper in the envelope is a picture of a man, presumably Mr Church. It’s a full length photo of a man of about fifty. He looks to be of medium height and he wears a sharply tailored pinstriped suit. He has fine lines around his eyes, which are black, and in between his dark eyebrows. His hair contains a couple of strands of grey but it’s still mainly black. His large feet are encased in shiny black shoes and he’s holding a brown leather briefcase. He stares sternly at me. I don’t remember seeing him at the ball.

I get up, putting the papers away in their envelope and hiding them behind one of the paintings on the walls. Amelia’s sitting at the table, eating the steak pie as though she’ll never eat again. I sit down next to her. The sun’s already rising.

“Amelia,” I say, “I’m going out tonight. Would you like to stay here?”

She looks up from her empty plate. Her eyes are wide with fear. “Do you want anything in return?” She asks warily.

“Of course not.” I say softly, smiling. I know that I have to make her trust me.

“I’m allowed to stay here for nothing?”

“Of course.”

“Why?” She asks sharply. She’s not convinced.

“Because I want to help you.” I say simply.

“Why?”

“Because,” I say sighing, “I was once like you.”

“No you weren’t.”

“Yes I was.” I say firmly. “I’ll tell you about it sometime.”

“No, now.”

And I tell her everything.