chapter 5; lingering darkness

                                        

                                              
The foggy morning had somewhat dissipated to broken clouds, fragments of blue skies and rays of sunshine peaking through as you left Jacob's lodgings later that morning to grab some more ingredients for a recipe you intended to create for dinner.
                              
Besides, you gathered it was what Jacob would probably want right now. Despite his reassurances his anger did not lay with you, it didn't stop his frosty reception and had to read expressions.
                              
However you felt the silent ordeal at breakfast had somewhat put you a few steps forwards with the man.
                              
So, with a basket in the crease of your elbow and humming a sweet song, you stepped out onto the cobbled streets - market bound.
                              
You had never really explored Whitechapel, mainly for its recent horrifying reputation and also for the fact you rarely ever set foot on this side of the Thames before now.
                              
The place wasn't too dissimilar from Lambeth in some ways, which had also seen streaks of the Ripper running through it's Fibres in the past year. Dark characters with sketchy gazes and hardened hearts, with their hazy and despondent glances which were hard to read.
                              
You found yourself clutching the handle of the basket tight between your elbow as you stepped quickly in the direction of the market. You passed some kids playing hopscotch, innocent enough - but also passed a few ashy faces of strange man, their unreadable gazes hidden under the brim's of their caps - a feeling of danger about them, like you were the mouse and they were the buzzards.
                              
You exited the street, and onto a main road where the many cab drivers and public about the streets made you feel somewhat safer. You hoped you would adjust to this new territory soon and become more relaxed, but even the skeptical glares of every other passer by told you pretty much everyone in the Whitechapel area was still on some high alert - as if it seemed to be too good to be true that the Ripper was actually gone.
                              
A few footpaths later, you had reached the bustle of the market. Mother's barked orders at their children to behave, whilst the stall workers bellowed louder than the bell toll of Big Ben trying to sell their goods. 
                              
Against the variety of wares in the covered market area, you felt somewhat secure for the first time in a few minutes - and began to shop for what you needed with less of a feral panic about you, the feeling having backed off you slightly.
                              
"I ain't seen you here before, love," a friendly older man called as he packed you a brown paper bag filled with delicious fresh chestnut mushrooms. "You new to the area?" It seemed this man knew his shoppers like family.
                              
You smiled politely, taking the bag as he handed it over and placing it in the basket gently. 
                              
"I am, yes. Recently moved from Lambeth, I'm serving a new household here." You explained, hoping that would be the end of the polite exchange.
                              
The man nodded, his eyes staying on yours for a little too long - a look of pity about him? As you read the signs in his eyes, you felt a shiver down your spine.
                              
"You be safe now, miss." He said, tone placid. "I always worry for young ladies walking about in these parts, this ain't a nice place."
                              
You swallowed the Boulder like lump that had wedged itself in your throat.
                              
"Still..? But the Ripper is gone?" You put forwards with an uneasy smile which was met with an unchanged concerned expression on the seller's face.
                              
"I wish I could say that's changed things." He replied, lips pressed tightly into a line. "Take care, Miss."
                              
Your friendly smile had shrunk to one of uncertainty, and you bid a quiet goodbye and turned to the next few stalls - mind less concentrated on the delicious ingredients and more on what all of that could have meant. Women were always at risk walking on their own, that's always how it was - but the exchange with the market stall man had only succeeded in leaving your mind plagued with frantic terror.