THE OTHER SIDE   

It was a split second of sheer anticipated agony. He raised his arm and the leather belt

would thrash her frail body. She let out a scream.  “No! Please! I didn't do it!.” When he had

finished he marched out into the back yard. Beth knew this frequent cruel act of punishment

from  her stepfather was a consequence of lies, hatred and betrayal bestowed upon her by

his own daughters. “Not one of us” they would mock.

Her mother Beattie had told her to be thankful. Her father had deserted them when she was

a baby and they had a roof upon their heads and food on the table. She did not know who had fathered her;. it was never acknowledged and questions were forbidden.

Dick Arkly a rugged, rough and dominating man, himself a widower with two young

daughters had offered a hand in marriage for the price of a warm bed at night and a meal on the table

after a shift at the Docks.  This being a stark contrast to Beattie’s days before Beth’s birth. She had been as a successful Old Time Music Hall artist.  With it became fame, a good living and connections within the higher ranks of society.

Beth ran to the cold water tap and bathed her hot, salty tear stained face. Her soul was crushed but the coolness of the water felt soothing and comforting. Her mother was not in strong health and unable to protect her from this vile vendetta. Beattie’s sister  Milly lived in the next street and on such occasions her mother would send Beth to her for solace and compassion. Beth gained composure, wrapped her shawl across her shoulders and made her way along the street. Squalor! Depravity! That’s how life is for folk like us on the other side. A small boy sat on sat on  the curb nibbling at a crust. Her gaze was averted by a group of children in filthy patched clothing rushing excitedly past.. A stray dog moved swiftly along the rubbish in search of its only means of survival. The air was heavy, dirty and smelt almost rancid.

Her aunt opened the door. “Sit by the fire and get warm” She passed Beth a mug of hot tea which she cradled in her sore scathed hands; a constant reminder of the heavy domestic chores laden upon her.

Her eyes filled with tears, the welts from the beatings paining here. Her aunt fetched a bowl of warm water. “Let me bathe those”.

Her mother’s health began to ail. She had Influenza and developed a  high fever. As she struggled to nurse her back to health exhaustion and fear engulfed her with intensity. The situation become critical and  the Influenza had developed into pneumonia. She would not survive and the end would be swift..

                                                                 

Beth filled the wash bowl and made her way over to the bedside to mop her brow.. “Leave that”, her mother weakly gestured with her hand. Beth drew close and noticed her breathing was laboured. “Go to Aunt Milly and tell her now is the time. She’ll know why, go now!”   

Heart pounding and hardly able to draw breath Beth knocked on the door. “Aunt Milly, come quickly.

Mama said to tell you “Now is the time”. “Her breathing has worsened” Swiftly taking her coat from its hook her aunt ran upstairs and came back down carrying a small box.. Beth thumbled anxiously with a tassel on her woolen shawl. ”Beth, this is your mother’s; it contains some personal items which I have kept safely for her. Only she and I know of its existence”. She opened it with a small key and handed Beth an envelope. “Your mother wants you to see this”. Beth observed its contents.

There was a chill in the air as they made their way back.. Beth hardly noticed, her mind was in turmoil; fear, dread,  disbelief. She quietly opened her mother’s bedroom door. Too late! She had passed away.

Beth cradled her in her arms and sobbed. Her aunt gently placed a re-assuring hand on her shoulder. Her mother looked peaceful and Beth swore she saw see a smile upon her face.

“We will do what needs to be done tonight and tomorrow Beth you must pack your belongings and come to me; there is no need for you to be in this house any longer”.

As the dawn rose Beth packed the few belongings she owned. As she walked out past her step sisters she sensed  the intense fury they were trying to conceal. Beth hesitated; they must have known the truth!.

Indeed she wasn't one of them but that wasn't the real reasoning behind their hatred. Jealousy

had lain  behind their vendetta to break her insane yet her inner strength had triumphant

.

She had been” born the wrong side of the blanket”,  had aristocratic blood running through her veins and in six months’ time at the age of eighteen would receive a large inheritance.  A new life awaited; now on the other side.