Eileen O�Rourke crossed herself and said a silent prayer. Asked her Ma to look down on her and keep her safe. Not that her mother had ever done anything to make her life easier; but Eileen still went through the same ritual before going out on the streets, always thinking how much better life would be if her Ma hadn't been taken by the TB.

The eldest of six children, Eileen had, by the tender age of twelve, become a burden on her family – Da hiding in a bottle since his wife had passed, emotionally and financially unable to cope with his children.

He'd eventually made the decision that four must go, selling them into service – a big estate over in Cheshire; a hard life, but one away from the disease-ridden slums of Liverpool.

She'd heard he'd died a year later, killed in a pub brawl (probably over the price of a pint, knowing him). Never went to the funeral, didn't know where he was buried, and didn't much care to be perfectly honest!

At thirteen, Eileen had run away from her life of servitude. She couldn't stand another minute in that house. Grabbing her very few possessions, and stealing a silver candlestick, she'd fled Cheshire.

Ten years later (Jesus and Mary, was it a decade now?) she was living back in Liverpool, three streets down from her mother's old tenement, sharing the two rooms with four other working girls.

She'd not taken to a life on the game as easily as most, being timid of soul and fearing damnation due to the sermons she heard weekly at St. Anthony's.

Taking cleaning and laundry work where she could find it, Eileen had lasted eighteen months in the city before she finally dipped her toe into the world of prostitution.

Her friend had told her that two gentlemen friends were looking for a good night out, wished to have a little female company, and would pay ten shillings for the evening. Nothing tawdry and certainly nothing to make Father Hennessey blush in the confessional on Sunday, easy money!

But it was far from easy, and the guilt piled upon her by Father H found her at the doors of Knoll Park, seeking solace at St Gabriel's and the Sisters of the 'Poor Servants of the Mother of God.'

But the sisters at the convent were far from charitable, refusing her requests to become a novice, merely urging her to pray for forgiveness and turn her back on all things sinful and desist in her shameful lifestyle.

Turn her back? She'd only done it once!

Eileen had remained a church-goer, refusing to let fate ruin her faith. She lied to the priest that she'd secured a position as housemaid, and her dalliance with sin had ended, thank the Lord.

She hated the deception, but hated being judged more so. Surely she was only using the gifts that the good Lord had bestowed upon her? If her body was the means to avoid the poorhouse, maybe that was God's plan for her? She took no pleasure in her work and wasn't acting sinfully out of lust. A job was a job, no matter what the Church preached. Hadn't Mary Magdalena been accepted by Jesus, despite her sinful background?

Ten years of inventing petty confessions to please the Father. If he only knew what her sins actually amounted to, there wouldn't be enough Hail Marys on God's green Earth to absolve her!

But tonight was quiet. The Night Watch had been pounding the beat lately, warning the girls off, telling them to stay by the docks, away from the dimly lit streets, to keep to the hustle and bustle. The presence of the constabulary was enough to deter most of her usual toms.

She crossed herself again as the gentleman approached her, silver-tipped cane tapping the cobbles, gold coin in his fingers, and asked Ma to look over her.

Sadly for Eileen, Ma must've been looking the other way that night.

FWR

25.03.24 Front Page

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