Flooding into the house, your exuberant grin and twinkling eyes already had your mother looking you up and down with confusion - half wondering whether you'd maybe accidentally consumed an illicit substance on the way home.
"What's got you all giddy then, girl?" she remarked, having set down her needle and thread for a moment as you pulled out the other rickety kitchen chair and fell into the seat with dramatic excitement.
"I am going to enquire about a prospect job this afternoon!" you returned with glee, watching your mother's eyes widen in delighted surprise.
"Cor! That was quick! I didn't think the agency were able to get you recruited onto jobs that quick!?" she returned, a questioning look on her face amidst the happiness for you.
You faltered a little, playing with the piece or parchment between your hands. "Well that's the thing, I didn't really get the job from the agency. It was a woman looking for someone to act as, well, I suppose a carer for her brother." you replied, watching as your mother stared at you with some scepticism.
"You sure about this, (name)?" she said uncertainly. Your mother prided herself on believing she had taught all of her kids to be incredibly street smart, especially in this rough area of London. "You have to be careful love, what if it was one of those women who pretend to recruit for honest jobs and it turns out to be a bloody whore house!?" she seemed to panic, and you reached across the table to take her hand gently.
"She certainly didn't seem like she was recruiting from a brothel, ma." you tried to mollify her, "I'm sure if it's not what it appears to be then I can turn and leave, and look for something else."
Her eyes searching your own, and she eventually relented with a sigh and a gentle nod.
"Alright love, but you have to promise me you'll be careful." she exclaimed, a stern look on her face which you were quick to rectify with your usual bright smile of agreement.
After some moments, your mother dusted her hands on her worn old apron and picked up the needle and thread again, back onto repairing one of Eloise's dresses with an expert hand, years of needlework having hardened her fingertips to the point of not feeling any pain at all from the occasional miscalculated sew.
"Where are you headed too, anyway?" she asked, licking her fingertips as she threaded a new piece of thread through the eye of said needle, only daring to to lift her glance as you slid the piece of paper across the table. She only had to see the address contained 'Whitechapel' before she was worrying all over again.
"Jesus, (name)! You never said it was in Whitechapel?" she fretted, her eyes fleeing between the paper and then your own. "Just because this bloody Ripper is dead, doesn't make that place any safer! she sounded disgusted with the thought of you going there.
"Ma, it's like I said. If I do not like it then I'll leave. Simple as that." you feared all your attempts to soothe her were in vain, it seemed she had made her mind up. But she knew you were a woman now, and that trying to stop you from making your own decisions would be futile.
She sighed, dropping her eyes after some moments. A tell-tale sign that she was not happy with the way this was going, but she knew she'd have to surrender to the fact you were going to make your own choice anyway.
"When I was your age I was already married to your pa and pregnant with you." she suddenly piped up, her tired eyes leaving the monotonous pattern of the needles work. Her eyes seemed to be filled with a sad plea as they looked into your own. "How I wish you had a nie husband and a place to call home. It ain't right for you to be stuck here with me."
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Fanfiction"If I could give you the courage not to hate yourself, I would. You are so much more than the pain you have been through." - London, 1888 The Ripper has fallen, and the wreckage of his chaos tumbles down upon a grief stricken city. None more so than...
