Page 17 of The Laudanum Ladies' Society

‘Well, the offer still stands.’

‘Offer?’

Jenny’s throat was dry. The word came with difficulty. Was the woman suggesting what it seemed? Apparently so, because her smile widened and her eyes glinted.

‘You were going into The Three Bells, so I assume you want a drink or something to eat. The pies aren’t bad. Buy me one and I’ll keep you company.’

‘I don’t need company,’ Jenny answered. It was a lie. Company was something she craved, but the sort of company this woman meant was something entirely unfamiliar. Enticing, true, but terrifying and impossible.

‘I do.’ The woman smiled. ‘Are you sure you don’t? It’s bitterly cold and January is always depressing. There’s somewhere nicer than The Three Bells on the next street. I promise, I don’t bite.’

She twirled the fringe of the silk scarf she wore about her neck. It was blood-red and Jenny couldn’t take her eyes from it. Her hesitation lasted barely a heartbeat. She did want company and, astoundingly it appeared, she had met someone who wasn’t scandalised at how she was dressed. And she was hungry. And she’d never dared to set foot inside a pub. This might be her only opportunity.

She swallowed then nodded. The woman held out an arm and Jenny slipped hers through it, which resulted in a blush running across the back of her neck. They walked side by side to a double-fronted public house with a sign proclaiming it The Dun Cow and went inside.

The warmth hit Jenny like a furnace, the haze of cigar and cigarette smoke making her eyes sting. Clinking glasses and the low murmuring of conversations competed with a popular music-hall song being played on a piano that stood in the furthest corner beside the bar. Jenny’s companion led her through the maze of tables, some large and square, others small and round, but all crammed in to fit as many as the room would allow. She waved cheerfully to a few groups who waved back. Jenny tried not to stare in delight at the scene.

‘Now then, this is much nicer than being outside,’ the woman said when they were both seated at a vacant small table set against the wall. ‘Two pints of Barclay’s porter, when you’re ready, Hendrik!’

Jenny realised that this last, confusing comment was directed to the very blond man standing behind the bar. He raised a thumb in response. He had a long moustache and looked exactly how Jenny would picture a Viking.

‘I wasn’t sure if I was right when I saw you before, but I’m glad that I was.’

‘You know what I am but you’re not shocked,’ Jenny asked shyly.

‘Not much shocks me.’ The woman unbuttoned her coat and fanned herself with the end of the scarf. She wore a crisp white blouse and a blue brocade waistcoat that didn’t look like the sort of thing a streetwalker would wear in Jenny’s mind. If anything, she looked more like a governess, or an assistant in a smart draper’s shop. Hendrik brought over two dimpled glass tankards of dark, foam-topped porter and placed them on the table.

‘Here you go, Mim. The last until you settle your tab, if you would be so kind,’ he said, in an odd accent that wasn’t exactly German.

The woman– Mim, though Jenny could not believe that really was her name– delved a hand into her pocket and handed over some coins. ‘You’re in luck, Hendrik. I sold a sketch of a poodle just this morning. There should be enough there for pie and liquor, too. Eel, not mutton.’

Hendrik counted them, nodded and walked off.

‘I’m Miriam. Miriam Sandler. I’m one of those troublesome people who don’t eat the flesh of animals, though I do permit myself fish,’ she explained to Jenny, though of all the pieces of information to digest, this seemed the least significant.

‘A sketch of a poodle? So, you’re not…’

Jenny felt a blush rising to her cheeks, partly from the heat of the room. She wished they were sitting closer to the door and further from the fire because she wasn’t confident enough to remove her coat but was growing too hot.

‘Goodness me, when we first met you thought I was a pickpocket and now you accuse me of being a pinchcock!’ Miss Sandler tilted her head, speaking in a mocking voice, but when Jenny began to apologise, she grinned and waved her hand dismissively. ‘I have been known to act the dollymop when the rent is due; but on the whole, I prefer to support myself by selling my expertise with a brush and pencil than with my madge.’

She might have been speaking another language, and when Jenny said so, it resulted in another laugh. A waitress arrived carrying a plate with a light-crusted pie covered liberally with green liquor and put it between the two women, along with a knife and two forks.

Miss Sandler cut the pastry in half, letting the chunks of gelatinous white flesh mix with the parsley sauce. She pushed a portion towards Jenny who shook her head quickly.

Miss Sandler laughed. ‘You seem very innocent for someone wearing whiskers and trousers. I’m very intrigued by you.’

‘Not as intrigued as I am by you, Miss Sandler,’ Jenny replied, feeling at ease enough to venture a smile, though not enough to sample the pie. ‘You must forgive me for my inexcusable assumption.’

‘Please, call me Miriam. It’s a fair assumption to make. A woman walking alone at night is bound to draw certain assumptions. For example, a person dressed in trousers and a greatcoat must be male, mustn’t he?’

She paused and raised her brows. Jenny acknowledged her jest with a grin.

‘As I said before, I’m an artist, and by that, I mean that by day I teach young girls from respectable families how to passably portray fruit with charcoal and watercolours. When my time is my own, I attempt to capture the spectrum of human life. Tonight, I was watching the canal basin workers returning home. Their manner in the evening once they are weary is very much different to that in the morning.’

She pulled a small sketchbook from her pocket and opened it on the table. The double page was filled with figures in different poses, and a few dogs. Even though they were small there was an animation to them. Jenny thought she recognised herself in a slim young man with his head down.

‘You’re good,’ she said, full of admiration for the adventurous woman.