The Singing Fire by Lilian Nattel Read Free Book Online Page A

the priest take off all your sins. You dress nice like her in the poster, and you’re buried like a beauty.” Sally was playing with a locket on a gold chain.
    “My sins are too many.” But it wasn’t sins she counted night after night, it was shillings and pounds, calculating her debt to the Squire. She must pay him off. No other thought could take precedence. “Who gave you that locket?”
    “Nobody. I rolled the captain of the ship.”
    “But you’re so small. How did you take it?” Nehama asked. “That must be worth something.”
    “Size is nothing. Didn’t you never roll no one?”
    Nehama shook her head. The last customer had been a big man. Nehama had heard herself gasp as he worked his way inside her. But she wasn’t really there. No, she was somewhere else, figuring sums. So much for rent. So much for food. Not enough left for what she owed on the dress and the entrance fee.
    “What do I do?” Nehama asked.
    “It’s easy. I’ll show you.” Sally had shown her everything. How to douse a sponge in vinegar and put it in so she wouldn’t get pregnant. How to stretch her money by eating cheap shellfish in season. How to be first when a gentleman came slumming. But she couldn’t showNehama how to drink till she didn’t care anymore because Nehama threw up first and, as Sally said, it was a waste of good gin.
    “Don’t sit there like a ninny. Get on top of me.” Sally lay down on the bed.
    “Like this?” Nehama kneeled with one leg on either side of Sally, who was lying flat as a child in a casket.
    “No, you’re too dainty. Be a great bloke what’s had his drink.” Sally pulled Nehama forward. “That’s right. Now you wiggle. Don’t be shy. Come on.” Sally laughed. They were so close that Nehama could see the skin under smudges of rouge wiped away by the pillow. “Just when he’s most busy and he wouldn’t notice a fire, you put your hand in his pocket.”
    “Not there.” Nehama pushed the other girl’s hand from the inside of her thigh.
    Sally dangled the locket. “You don’t need to be a master gonoph.”
    “Let me try,” Nehama said, pushing Sally over as she took her turn lying down. Sally sat on her, as light as a baby, moving the locket quickly from one hand to the other.
    “Hi! Give it back now,” Sally shouted when Nehama snatched it out of the air. “That’s mine.”
    “Fine. Here it is.” But as the old prostitute walked by the doorway, paused, and returned, Sally put her hands behind her back, looking at Nehama with frightened eyes.
    “What’s this!” Madam Harding held out her hand. Her hair was dyed black, and the dye had left a line along her temple. “Trying to keep something back. You know what we thinks of that sort of thing.”
    “Not me,” Sally said, picking up her wig and brushing it furiously. “It were her. She took it from the sailor, and I was just looking at it.”
    “I should know it’s the sly Jewess.” The old prostitute slapped Nehama so hard her nose bled.
    “What?” Nehama pinched her nose. There was blood on her fingers, a stain on her sleeve where it dripped.
    “Don’t say another word to me with your sharp Jew tongue. It’ll cost you to have that blood cleaned off. Add it to your debt.”
    Nehama glanced at Sally. Her shoulders were hunched, her eyes panicky. Nehama’s sisters had sometimes taken the blame for her, but they were golden and strong. She was dark and her thoughts were dark as thewind blew night in from the sea, though she was as strong as any of them. “A bit of blood isn’t any worse than what else is on this,” she said.
    “Never mind your lip or I’ll tell the Squire you ruined it altogether. Take that off and the laundress will have it.”
    Nehama smiled. “A blessing on you,” she said in Yiddish. “May the cholera eat out your intestines.”
    The night of the Sardinian sailors, Nehama lost her sense of smell. Madam Harding played the piano as usual, and Nehama sang because the other girls had