Sophy nodded. She couldn’t have spoken at that moment.
‘Old Mr Ferry, bless him, he lived here for years after his wife died. No trouble, he was. But being eighty odd, the stairs were too much for him in the end.’
‘He – died here?’ Sophy looked askance at the bed.
‘Died in this room? Dear oh dear, lovey, whatever put that in your head? No, he’s gone to live with his married daughter in Paddington, somewhere between the railway and the canal, he said. Mind, that isn’t an area I’d want one of my daughters living in, I can tell you. Slums mostly, and with all sorts of goings-on once it’s dark, if you know what I mean.’
Sophy wondered what this street and the ones around it were, if not slums. But she couldn’t afford to be choosey. Since arriving at King’s Cross station three days ago she had been staying in a small guesthouse close to the station while she got her bearings, but at three shillings a night for bed, breakfast and evening meal, she’d quickly realised she had to find inexpensive lodgings somewhere or the rest of her money would be swallowed up in no time.
‘Well, lovey, do you want the room or not?’ The landlady folded her arms over her dirty pinny. ‘It’s a week’s rent in advance, mind. Two bob it is, an’ that’s a bargain. It’s an extra tanner a week for the rooms down below, but they’re a bit bigger, mind. Still, it’s only you, isn’t it, so this should suit you fine.’
Sophy looked again at the soiled mattress. ‘Could you arrange to have that taken away? I – I shall be bringing my own mattress, thank you.’
The landlady nodded, the man’s pipe that was sticking out of the corner of her mouth bobbing. ‘I’ll get my Jim to see to it, dearie. When do you want to move in?’
‘Would tomorrow be convenient?’
Again the pipe bobbed. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, lovey, what’s a girl like you doing in this neck of the woods?’
Sophy looked into the lined face which seemed quite kindly under its coating of grime. ‘I’m – I’m going to be an actress.’
‘An actress, is it?’ Dolly Heath surveyed the strikingly lovely young woman in front of her and shook her head slowly. ‘I thought as much. Run away from home, have you? Don’t bother to deny it, dearie, I’ve seen it all before. When a slip of a girl talks like you do and dresses nice, ten to one she’s got a notion she wants to go on the stage. Did you leave under your own steam or did they throw you out?’
Sophy hesitated for a moment. ‘There was a row and I left,’ she said, which was true enough, just not the whole truth.
‘And where’s home?’
‘In the north.’
‘Well, this ain’t the north, dearie, and I hate to say it but they’ll eat you alive, given half a chance. I think you and me better have a little chat once you’ve moved in or it’ll be a lamb to the slaughter.’
Sophy didn’t know what to say. After a moment she fumbled in her bag and gave the landlady her first week’s rent. ‘Could I call back in a little while and’ – she wondered how to put it – ‘sort things out a bit?’ She needed to scrub the room from top to bottom with a great deal of carbolic soap for a start, and then tackle the fireplace and clean the window. And she would whitewash the walls. If she bought some coal and lit a fire once she’d blackleaded the fireplace, everything would dry quicker. But getting rid of the smell was the first priority.
‘You do what you want. Here’ – the landlady gave her the key to the door – ‘it’s your place now, as long as you pay the rent on time. I don’t put up with no shirkers. An’ the front door’s always unlocked, all right?’
‘Thank you.’ Sophy looked about her again, hiding her dismay at her new home. And then she metaphorically rolled up her sleeves. The sooner she went out and bought the cleaning materials, the sooner she could make a difference.