All of London had heard about Emma’s murder by the next week, but business continued as usual. 

“You’ve read it by now haven’ya?” 

“The newspaper article? Ya, the world has read it by now.”

Ten Bells was usually quiet for noon on a Wednesday. The floors were ready and clean for tonight’s slew of patrons who would usually arrive around sixteen that afternoon. Liza decided to call for the girls for their social before work that night, it was Mage that brought up what was on everybody’s mind. 

Sitting together at one bartable, surrounded by three gaslamps on the walls to eat the dampness away of the rain and fog that crept inside the bar, Liza’s ‘girls’, as she called them, devoted an afternoon to gossip, talk about news or what’s going on in their own private lives. 

“What did they say abow’ Em?” asked Ida, one of the younger girls who was raised down the road. Her feet dangled sitting on the chairs, even at this height, her eyes sunken in from a lack of sleep over fifteen years. 

“Some’fin abou’ how dey foun a showt gow in da middow of’a stree and how they dunno hew she is yeh.” Said Mage. She grew up in Yorkshire and stared down as she spoke.

“Sit up please, Mage darling, it’s incredibly important that we hear you.”

“And, even after Arthur confirmed body?”

“Dey dinnit say anyfin bekuz dey don’t fink its impoeant.”

“No newspaper or anything?”

“Nofin. And somfin toes me they not gonna.”

The ladies looked around, the only one to stay quiet was Mary, who was about thirty or so, only ten years younger than Liza. She was looking at the empty space between her and Cathy, who was falling asleep on Mage’s shoulder. Mary would usually have something to say, especially about the death of someone they knew. Liza asked her about it.

“What’s happening with you, Mary?”

She shoved her mouth to the right side of her face, in a thinking-yet-still-confused fashion. “What if it happens again?” she finally said, close to tears. The talking from outside was totally taken away from the conversation with all ten ears focusing on her words, even Cathy had decided this was of importance.

“I don’t think so, darling. People do get killed, we’re in a small place with too many people. This is our life, and it’s always been this way.” Liza said, taking Mary’s hand into her own and patting them together.

“I’m worried, that’s all.”

“You ain’t gotta bey,” said Mage. “Don go ow wif anyone dat’s goh a bad eyr abow em, knoe wut eye min?”

 "But if it does?“ Mary asked, “What then? No one cares about us? No one think’s were important! If the queen herself doesn’t think we’re worth-”

“The queen doesn’t think.” said Cathy, matter-of-fact, her voice heavy with sleep. “She doesn’t care about us at all, you’re right. But we have yo care about eachother. Mage give me your shoulder back.” And she fell back asleep again. 

“We’ll be fine, Mary.” Liza said, reassuringly. 

“Ye an’ if he gets anywon thew’ boun'a get Dorothy fro'up Sibbald Place. She has it comin’.” Said Mage. 

Everyone (but Cathy) looked at Mage in horror. “We don’t say that, Mage darling." 

"Honstly lovey, did your mum ever tell you about karma?”