My name is Eva Smith, I’m 28 years old, in under a year I will be dead. No one knows me nor does any body care for me. My life is a tangled mess of lies, deceit and unfaithfulness. The rain came down as hard as ice picks, turning the fresh, clean snow of the morning, into the meaningless slush that had become my life. As I walked down the streets the passers by stared at me like I was part of a traveling freak show, I would amuse their lives for a brief moment in time the just as quickly I made them turn their heads in disgrace.
I trundled through the snow until I reached my inadequate dwelling, 7 blocks north of the river. As I entered, I felt as I was greeted by Satan himself, his radiant heat was warming me to the bone and boiling the fluids in my body. I sat in the old broken chair in the corner of the room facing the window. I opened the curtains so I could see the wonderful view of the shimmering sign of the Gentlemen’s club.
The club was for men only, I heard that the women would dance and take their clothes off for money, those poor girls forced to strip for old horney men. Many a time during the day I could see lots of these old men, most of them worked in the city as bank managers and stock brokers, 30 or so would enter and only half of the would leave by six o’clock. The smoke from their fat cigars would seep out of the windows; the place would look like it was on fire. Two massive blokes dressed in tuxedoes would stop any members of the unruly public entering.
Across the street I could see people running for shelter trying to escape the bitter cold of the season, and the dense rain. These slaves of capitalism would were double cuffed, three pieced suits, and expensive mink coats. You way wonder how I know this; don’t forget that I worked in a famous department store for nearly a year, until that bitch got me fired. I wish I could show her what she has done to me. Further down the street I could see the distinctive dragon emblem for Milwards. I couldn’t stay here much longer, I gathered my coat and bag and I headed for the door.
The palace was a heaven for hookers and blokes looking for a young bird that they could do away with. When I arrived the hostess took my coat and gave me a number, so I could collect it later. I went down to the dank and smoky bar and ordered myself a port and lemonade. As I waited for my drink I looked around at the replica art on the walls, which were turning yellow from the thousands for cigarettes being smoked every night.
I darted my eyes about until I saw a rather strange looking man standing next to the stairs, I must have not noticed him when I came down, His face was covered by the long shadow created by his hat. He was about 5 foot and 10 inches tall and was fairly well build from what I could see of him. He was wearing a long plain trench coat and dark trousers, black or brown may be. He looked like a character from one of those foreign films, like a policeman or someone with more authority than a detective.
The Irish bar tender gave me a shout from behind me saying something I couldn’t make out. I picked up my port and lemonade and sat near the corner furthest away from the entrance near where that inspector was, actually where was he, he had disappeared, never mind. I sat there for a while admiring the artwork. I started people watching, seeing what others were up to; my mild bronchitis became irritated by the heavy smoke, so I got up ready to leave. As I stood up, some young kid ran past my causing my to spill the remainder of my drink on Alderman Meggarty’s lap.
Meggarty forced me into the corner. I was so frightened. Joe Meggarty started to rub my thighs and stroke my neck. He continued to rub my backside and stroke my breasts. I couldn’t do anything he overpowered my. A young man came over interrupting Joe. He gave him some cock and bull story about there being a message for him at the bar. His name was Gerald. He was a fine looking man; he looked wealthy and well presented. He told me to come with him if I didn’t want this sort of life anymore. In an instance I agreed and we ran out of the Palace Hall in a hurry.
Gerald took me to some fancy restaurant, which was closed to the public but he knew the manager, so we were let in. He asked if I could have some food, anything would do. We began talking about life, marriage and absolutely everything else. The manager came out with a plate of scraps. That night we got absolutely plastered. Gerald took me back to my place, which was a fair old walk carrying me. He had to undress me and put me in bed. When I awoke the next morning I felt as if a ray of sunshine had lifted my sprits, as if the world was my oyster, as if I could do anything. I walked over to the basin and washed my hands and face, and brushed my teeth. As I dried my hands I looked across the room and saw on my bedside table a note written on a napkin, it said, “Meet me outside the Palace music theatre. I want to show you something.”
