Lesley Pearse - Belle

By the same author

Georgia

Charity

Tara

Ellie

Camellia

Rosie

Charlie

Never Look Back

Trust Me

Father Unknown

Till We Meet Again

Remember Me

Secrets

A Lesser Evil

Hope

Faith

Gypsy

Stolen

Belle

LESLEY PEARSE

MICHAEL JOSEPH
an imprint of
PENGUIN BOOKS

MICHAEL JOSEPH

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL , England

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First published 2011

Copyright Lesley Pearse, 2011

The moral right of the author has been asserted All rights reserved

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN: 978-0-14-196407-2

Contents

To Harley MacDonald, my new and gorgeous grandson, born 5 March 2010.
And to Jo and Otis for making me such a happy and proud Granny again.

Acknowledgements

Evelyne Noailles for all your invaluable help and research into all things French. Bless you, it was above and beyond the call of duty.

Jane Norton my dear friend and wise woman who put me in touch with Evelyne. I will try to budget someday.

Jo Prosser for being willing to listen endlessly to the plot and showing remarkable fortitude as we tramped around Paris for the research. What would I do without you?

Al Rose, for his great book Storyville, New Orleans , which helped me so much in writing about the notorious red-light district. A fantastic read which brought to life a fascinatingly naughty place and time.

Finally, last but by no means least, my dear editor at Penguin Books, Mari Evans. Without your encouragement, support and friendship I might have floundered in writing Belle . At times it seemed as long and hard as an elephants gestation period, but you kept me focused with your enthusiasm and advice.

Chapter One

London 1910

You must be a whore. You live in a brothel!

Fifteen-year-old Belle took a step back from the red-haired, freckled-faced boy and looked at him in consternation. Hed run after her down the street to return her hair ribbon which had fallen off. That in itself was unusual enough around the teeming streets of Seven Dials, where practically everyone would pocket anything not nailed down. But then hed introduced himself as Jimmy Reilly, the recently arrived nephew of Garth Franklin who owned the Rams Head. They chatted for a while and Jimmy asked if he could be her friend. Belle was thrilled; she liked the look of him and she guessed he was close in age to her. But then he had to spoil it by asking if she minded being a whore.

If I lived in a palace I wouldnt necessarily be a queen, she retorted angrily. Its true enough that I live in Annies Place, but Im not a whore. Annies my mother!

Jimmy looked hard at Belle, his tawny eyes repentant. Im sorry if I got it wrong. My uncle told me Annies was a brothel, so when I saw you come out of there He broke off in embarrassment. I really didnt mean to hurt your feelings.

Belle was even more confused then. She didnt think shed ever met anyone before who cared whether they hurt her feelings. Her mother certainly didnt, or any of the girls in the house. Its all right, she replied somewhat uncertainly. You werent to know, you havent lived around here long enough. Is your uncle treating you well?

Jimmy shrugged.

Hes a bully, Belle stated, guessing that Jimmy had already been introduced to his uncles fists, for it was common knowledge Garth Franklin was hot-tempered. Do you have to stay with him?

My mother always said I was to go to him if anything happened to her. She died last month and Uncle paid for her funeral and said I was to come here to learn the trade.

Belle surmised by his gloomy tone that he felt obligated to stay. Im sorry about your mother, she said. How old are you?

Nearly seventeen. My uncle said Ive got to do some boxing to build up muscle, Jimmy responded with a cheeky grin. Ma always said it were better for a man to have brains than muscle, but maybe I can have both.

Just dont assume all girls are whores or you wont live to build up muscle, Belle said teasingly. She was warming to him; he had a lovely smile and a softness to him which was very different to all the other boys around the area.

Seven Dials wasnt far from the smart shops of Oxford Street, the theatres of Shaftesbury Avenue or even the grandness of Trafalgar Square, but it was a million miles from gentility. Great swathes of its higgledy-piggledy tenements and rookeries might have been demolished in the last twenty years, but with Covent Garden fruit and vegetable market still at its heart, and so many narrow lanes, courts and alleys all around, the newer buildings had soon become just as shabby as the old. Its residents were in the main the underbelly of society thieves, prostitutes, beggars, rogues and thugs living alongside the poor who worked in the very lowliest of jobs street sweepers, scavengers and labourers. On a grey, frosty January day, with many people bundled up against the cold in little more than rags, it was a depressing sight.

Next time I rescue a pretty girls hair ribbon Ill be really careful what I say to her, Jimmy said. Your hair is lovely, Ive never seen such shiny black curls before, and youve got pretty eyes too.

Belle smiled because she knew her long, curly hair was her best feature. Most people thought she must curl it up nightly and put oil on it to make it shine, but that was the way it was naturally all she did was brush it. Her blue eyes had come from Annie, but Belle had to assume she had her father to thank for her hair for her mothers was just light brown.

Well, thank you, Jimmy, she said. Go on flattering girls like that and youll be a huge success around here.

Back in Islington, where I come from, girls wouldnt talk to someone like me.

Belle had barely been out of Seven Dials, but she knew Islington was where the respectable, middling sort lived. She assumed by his last remark, and what he had said about his uncle paying for the funeral, that his mother had been in service there.

Was your mother a cook or housekeeper? she asked.

No, she were a dressmaker, and she made a good living at it till she got sick, he said.

And your father?

Jimmy shrugged. He cleared off around when I was born. Ma said he were an artist. Uncle Garth called him an arse-wipe. Anyways, I dont know him and dont want to. Ma always said it was lucky she were a skilled seamstress.

Or she might have had to come and work at Annies Place? Belle said impishly.

Jimmy laughed. Youre quick, I like that, he said. So can we be friends?