Lucky Pt 05

It rained overnight but the next day was clear and bright, a good day for working outside. The tin bucket clanged as he dropped it at the top of the steps. He stretched, watching the white clouds sailing steadily across the sky like the sails of the ships he used to watch when he lived down in the harbour. After breakfast, he'd brought some large bags of carrots up from the pantry for Cookie. He'd lingered upstairs chatting to her till Tully stopped by and reminded him it was his turn to help him scrub the front steps.

Madam Pomfrey was very particular about keeping the entrance area clean and tidy. Just inside the door, he could see Tully polishing the reception desk with a tub of beeswax and an old rag. Lucky surveyed the broad, lengthy steps and sighed as he sank to his knees.

It was already warm, his shadow was dark and crisp against the pale buff stone as he started to scrub. It was Market Day and the streets were noticeably busier, as people passed headed towards the stalls in the Market Square. After a short while, Tully joined him.

"So how did you get on at the Flower Sisters?" he asked as he dipped a scrubbing brush into the bucket of soapy water.

"Good, I mean, they're very, um, tactile," Lucas replied, trying out a word he'd learnt recently.

"Yes, so I hear," his friend chuckled. "You're lucky, I got Charlie Cole to make my suit, a large balding man in his sixties. Go on then, tell me all about it, I want to know why they're so popular with the other lads."

Lucky paused, he didn't want to keep secrets but Rachel always warned him to be discreet and they were out in public where anyone could overhear. Luckily, at that moment Tully was distracted by a couple of attractive young maids casually strolling past, baskets swinging in their hands as they chatted, obviously enjoying the fine weather.

"Sera! Elaena!" he shouted. "Good morning!"

They were dressed identically in dark grey dresses with white aprons, their hair tucked neatly beneath white caps. Their smooth skin glowed in the morning sunlight as they looked up at the steps.

"Morning," said the shorter of the two girls. "Good to see you hard at work for a change, Tully, rather than just exercising your right arm down at the Queens Head."

Lucky had learned recently that the boys were allowed to go out once a week but only to inns that Madam considered reputable, and even then they had to be back by nine o'clock. He hadn't joined them because he didn't feel he had saved enough silver to justify that kind of luxury yet.

"Come on Sera, you know I only go down there so's I can gaze longingly at you two beauties across the bar," he replied with a wink.

"Always the charmer. Who's your new friend?" Sera asked, nodding at Lucky as she looked up at them.

"I'm Lucas," he replied, pausing to take a look at the young woman. "They call me Lucky."

"Maybe we'll see you down at the inn some time," she said, her green eyes twinkling and a playful smile on her lips.

"Yes, maybe we'll see you both down there next Thursday and you can treat us to some more of that legendary charm, Tully," Elaena chuckled.

"See you then," Lucky shouted after them as they headed off in the direction of the main square.

"Ah, wouldn't mind buying those two a drink sometime," Tully muttered wistfully, watching them disappear behind the fountain as Lucky went back to his scrubbing.

"Anyway, I've been meaning to ask after that friend of yours? Eamon was it? Going to try his luck with smuggling, was it?" he added.

"Oh, he disappeared for a few weeks but I saw him on Wednesday, " Lucas said with a long sigh. "He's given up on that idea, said he met someone from the merchant navy at the Star and Garter, reckons he can get himself working passage on a clipper down to the Spice Islands."

"What's he going to do down there?"

"Oh, I don't know, he thinks they're going to need young men like him to help manage the sugar cane plantations or something, I didn't really follow."

The clear, sharp sound of Madam's voice carried through the open door above them and they both started scrubbing a little harder as she appeared.

"Morning boys," she said, pausing at the top of the steps and surveying the scene. The street was getting busier now, the sound of chatter floating up the steps, as many people headed towards the markets: the servants and maids on foot carrying baskets, the gentry strolling along more casually or riding in a horse-and-cart.

"Morning madam," they chorussed.

Lucky dipped the rough bristles of his brush in his bucket of soapy water and scrubbed at a persistent spot of dirt, although Madam seemed to be taking the air and generally looking around rather than checking up on them.

"Lovely day," she said. "Looks like it's going to be warm again."

Lucky kept scrubbing, moving his brush in tight circles whilst watching Madam out of the corner of his eye. She seemed thoughtful, watching as a group passed by, two ladies dressed in their finest and followed by two younger maids.

"Yes, very warm," she muttered thoughtfully. "Aren't you boys getting a little hot with all that scrubbing?"

The sun had risen a little more now, their shadows shrinking and Lucky had started to get warmer, the linen shirt clinging to his back, the sweat collecting on his forehead now.

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

"Why don't you take your shirts off?" she suggested.

"Our shirts?" he replied, glancing over at Tully questioningly although he also looked puzzled.

"Yes, your shirts," she repeated. "Take them off."

Tully looked surprised then shrugged before unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it over his head and placing it in Madam's outstretched hand.

"Come along Lucas, don't be shy," she said, stepping closer as he hesitated, her fingers curling.

Lucky complied, feeling the air cool on his moist skin. He felt a little embarrassed, although all the exercise at the gym had left his chest and arms looking lean and toned. He quickly got back to scrubbing but noticed that the sight of two young men stripped to the waist seemed to be quite the distraction for the passing crowds. In particular, the women seemed to slow as they passed, taking in the sight of Madam Pomfrey casually leaning against the doorway as they scrubbed hard at the steps beneath her feet. It was clear that Madam Pomfrey, ever the opportunist businesswoman, was using them for a little free advertising, letting the women of White Harbour know what kind of willing, hard-working and obedient young men were available for hire within.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched a small group of young ladies pass by, their eyes taking in every little detail. He watched as one whispered to the other, their hands clasped tightly to their mouths as they giggled. Across the street, a middle-aged woman paused and watched for a short while.

He kept his head down, still aware that Madam was watching as she approached.

"Morning, Helen," the woman said as she drew closer, taking the steps one at a time. She was tall and angular and Lucky had a close up view of her fashionable, new-looking black leather court shoes, which suggested she was wealthy.

"Good morning, Sylvi, it's a fine day is it not?"

"Always a pleasure to see a young man working hard," she said, and Lucky felt himself flush as he felt her staring.

"Well, as I always tell you, Sylvi, we have many hard-working young men here, all willing to serve, all with good stamina."

"Ah yes, well stamina is important," Sylvi said with a throaty laugh. "I was wondering if you could help me out."

"Certainly, you know I'm always willing to help an old friend. Need an escort for a wedding? Perhaps a waiter for a birthday party?"

"Not quite. I need an escort for a ball."

"Ah well it's good to hear you're getting out more. You know that only members of our little club can hire our young men," Madam said, leading her friend up the steps towards the doorway. "But of course, I can always offer a very good deal for an old friend, let's step into my office."

--

Lucky looked out of the window, his hands grasping the seat as the carriage lurched over a pothole. He'd met Sylvi Blackheath at her townhouse, but only had time to get to know her a little before their carriage had arrived. She seemed pleasant enough but a little anxious, and as he glanced over she crossed her long, slender legs, anxious fingers picking at the skirt of her burgundy dress. As far as he could see she had little reason to be nervous, she looked so elegant and beautiful in her elbow-length white silk gloves and her pearls. She was a tall lady, her skin pale, her hands restless, her expression thoughtful as she stared out of the window.

"They sent the carriage, the hosts I mean," she said, as if she sensed him watching.

"I see, well I can't say I've often been in one. I daresay it's easier than walking," he said, eyeing her black heels.

"So I hear you're new to Madam Pomfrey's," she added, holding onto the chestnut brown leather seat as they rounded a corner and the springs groaned beneath them.

"Yes, I haven't been there long. I've not seen you there," he replied over the squeaking of the carriage's springs and the staccato sound of the horses' hooves.

"I'm not really a member. Helen, Madam Pomfrey, she's a friend who's been good enough to help me out," she said. "Between you and I I've been dreading this party. I'm hoping that having someone with me should make it bearable."

"Rachel told me about your husband. I'm sorry."

Rachel had told him plenty about Sylvi, how she was one of Madam's oldest friends and how reclusive she'd become since her husband, a captain in the navy, was lost at sea.

"Thank-you, it's been nearly two years since he died and I think this will be the first time I've been out to a big party since then. It's so difficult turning up on your own, it always reminds me. Still at least I'll have a dance partner tonight," she said, forcing a brave smile.

"Well, you may not feel like that when you've seen my dancing," Lucky replied, returning her grin.

She opened the window a little and leaned out as the carriage slowed then drew to a halt: "Ah, looks like we're here."

Lucky jumped out first, his smart shoes crunching on the gravel of the courtyard. He turned and offered his hand, helping Sylvi as she carefully stepped onto the running board delicately holding her skirts above her ankles.

Together, they ascended some steps where Sylvi showed her handwritten invitation to a doorman then on through the open doors. It was his first event like this and Lucky felt a little overwhelmed as they took a moment to survey the large ballroom, its walls hung with elaborate tapestries and an impressive gold chandelier hanging from the curved barrel-like ceiling. The room was filled with many people, mainly ladies in colourful evening gowns but also some men dressed more soberly in dark suits.

It was warm and humid inside, and Lucky took a moment to take in the scene, his nostrils filled with the scent of exotic perfumes, the noisy chatter of the people masking the sound of the musicians in the little balcony above him which served as a minstrels gallery.

It didn't take long for Sylvi to find some friends to talk to, and Lucky was happy to take a step back and let them converse. As agreed, she introduced Lucky as a friend and everyone seemed to accept that without question. He hovered quietly in the background and after a while, he noticed her glass was empty and drifted off to get them a refill from one of the many waitresses. In a smaller room, off to one side, a large table had been laid with an impressive buffet. It was the kind of scene he dreamed about when he was living on the streets: a table virtually groaning with the weight of the finest cheeses and breads and cold meats.

The memory of his previous life made him feel out of place momentarily like he was an impostor, and he had to take a deep breath and remind himself that in his fine new suit he looked as well-off and respectable as anyone else in the room.

When he returned, her little circle had been joined by a young, ginger-haired man with a prominent Adam's apple who was a little older than him.

"Yes," the man was saying loudly. "I'm still not sure what I'll do. I've been helping my father down at the gaol. It's been quite the experience."

"Really?" said his companion, a slim young woman with large, expensive-looking gold earrings and a bored expression.

"Oh yes, you see the same people again and again. It's mainly thieves down there. It's as if they can't help themselves. One man was let out, and then he was back the next day!" he said, with a snort of laughter. "You would have thought they'd learn, but no. Recidivist degenerates, that's what pa calls them."

Beside him, Sylvi opened her mouth to speak and, no doubt, change the subject but the young man pressed on, and Lucky felt himself growing angry as he continued his tirade against the petty criminals of White Harbour.

"It's as if they like being locked up. Father says we should cut their hands off, that would stop their thieving ways!"

"You know people don't steal because they enjoy it," Lucky interrupted, trying to keep his voice even. "They steal because they're desperate, because they're starving."

"Well, Sir," he said, seeming to notice Lucky for the first time. "We've not been introduced."

"My name's Lucas," Lucky replied.

"Oh, I see, Sylvi's 'friend'", he said, his mouth twisting into a sneer. "Well, I suppose that if you work for Madam Pomfrey or one of the other Madams, perhaps you know a little about thieving yourself."

"Well, Sir, if I did at least I wouldn't be speaking from a position of ignorance," Lucas retorted.

"Come Lucas, let's dance," Sylvi said, stepping forward and pulling at Lucky's hand.

Lucas felt his anger subside as he let Sylvi lead him through the tightly packed crowd and onto the dance floor, an area that had been cleared in front of the minstrel's gallery. Luckily they were playing a waltz, one of the few dances Rachel had taught him and he smoothly slipped an arm around Sylvi's slim waist and started to dance. By the time they'd circled the floor, his anger had turned into embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," he said, as they moved in time with the music. "I've embarrassed you."

"Not at all," she said, a half smile on her lips as she leaned closer so that she could whisper. "George is a dreadful bore who likes the sound of his own voice a little too much, someone needed to take him down a peg or two, I really should be thanking you for sparing me from losing my temper."

He felt relieved then, concentrating on not bumping into other couples or stepping on Sylvi's feet as they twirled around the floor. Most women didn't seem to have a date but seemed content to stand at the edge of the dance floor, sipping their wine and watching. Those that were accompanied seemed to split neatly into two groups: women with men their own age, presumably their husbands, and women like Sylvi, partnered with much younger men. Men like him, smartly dressed and well-groomed, professional-looking.

Nobody seemed to mind though, it didn't seem to be considered taboo to have hired an escort. It was as if it was understood that if a woman wanted a partner she may not have much of a choice with most of the eligible bachelors of White Harbour away at war. In fact, one of the young men seemed to be being shared, dancing with different ladies as if he'd been hired by a group of friends.

They danced and danced, Sylvi seemingly enjoying herself despite his less-then-expert dancing, until finally she said she was a little tired and her feet were beginning to ache. Soon they were on their way home, back through the dark, quiet streets.

--

Lucky lay in bed naked, staring at the spotlessly white ceiling of Sylvi's bedroom. It was a very feminine room, the walls decorated with floral wallpaper and some tasteful watercolours. The bunch of colourful flowers that he'd brought sat in a vase on an antique writing desk in front of the window, and a large walnut wardrobe with brass handles dominated one corner. The sound of splashing water drifted through the open door from the bathroom. Lucky wasn't entirely sure what was expected of him. He'd asked Rachel but she'd said that it was up to the client but that it would be rude to leave early and that he should expect to stay the night. So here he was, feeling a little awkward as he waited patiently, his hands clasped behind his head.

When Sylvi returned, she was wearing a plain white cotton nightgown that came down to mid-thigh, with a scooped neck, its edges lined with embroidered lace. It was thin and Lucky couldn't help staring at the way it clung to the pert curves of her apple-sized breasts and flowed over the rounded swell of her hips. She flushed a little, perhaps not used to a man's gaze, quickly blowing out the candle on the nightstand, before easing the sheets back and slipping into bed.

"Thank-you for this evening," she said, briefly kissing him on the forehead before lying down. "It was lovely to get out."

"My pleasure," Lucky said, sliding a hand around her slim waist and feeling her hand against his bare chest, exerting a gentle yet firm pressure as he drew her close.

"It's been so long, I'm not sure I'm ready for...this yet," she said, as he eased closer, his lips brushing her neck.

He drew back and paused.

"It's been quite a night, a little overwhelming if I'm honest, and I feel a little tired. Perhaps you could just hold me," she said, spinning around and wriggling backwards.

"Of course," he said, trying to hide his disappointment as he slid a hand around her waist, feeling her warmth through her thin shift as he curled his body around hers.

"Good night," she whispered, already sounding sleepy, her body relaxing into his.

"Good night," he echoed, just about resisting the temptation to ease her dark hair aside, and nuzzle the smooth, pale skin of her shoulders.

--

Sylvi woke up early the next morning, her bladder full, her mouth dry.

"I'm not used to drinking so much wine," she thought to herself as her eyes slowly adjusted to the light. She slowly eased herself out of bed, being as quiet as she could before using the bathroom then getting a glass of water from the kitchen. Outside it was nearly dawn, the streets empty, the silvery disc of the moon barely visible through a thin sheen of steely-grey cloud.

She tiptoed back into the bedroom, carefully stepping over the squeaky floorboard, before placing the glass on her bedside table and easing the covers back. A thin shaft of dim grey light slipped through a small gap in the curtain and cut across Lucas's sleeping body. He seemed soundly asleep, his chest rising and falling slowly, his clean-shaven face relaxed, those deep blue eyes hidden. The muted sound of his breathing was the only sound that broke the pre-dawn stillness.

She propped her head on her hand, and watched him for a few seconds making sure he was still asleep before running a tentative finger through his short, close-cropped hair, then along his square jawline and the youthful, unlined skin of his face. He looked so innocent, almost angelic in the soft light, which struck her as funny given his profession.

Being careful not to wake him, she moved her hand down over his chest, resting it there a moment, feeling the gentle rise and fall. He looked so calm and peaceful. And so young, she thought, he looked around twenty, almost as young as her sixteen-year-old son who was away at the military academy.

She had been reluctant to hire one of Madam's boys. It had taken a long time to get used to the idea. It had just seemed easier and safer to stay in, to refuse all the invitations but now she was glad she'd her friend Elli talk her into it. She'd enjoyed seeing the surprised reactions of friends and acquaintances when she showed up with a handsome young man on her arm. It had been clear that they'd been happy for her too, and perhaps she'd even noticed one or two jealous looks as they'd danced.