It's 1888 in London, and Jack The Ripper is starting his murder spree.

Chapter One

It was August 30th in the year 1888. In Whitechapel, the summer heat made the streets stink even more and the days were hot and the nights hotter. It was a sticky evening, as Mary and Liz sat quietly in The Ten Bells pub, with their friend, Catherine. They were waiting for Polly and Annie to arrive, so that they could get to work. While Catherine was slamming the alcohol down, Marie was sitting silently, the feeling of anxiousness weighing on her shoulders.

Catherine was extremely drunk, and was slurring as she loudly sang "A Violet I Plucked From My Mother's Grave" and kept bashing into other people as she went to get some more drink.
Liz, Mary's 16-year-old cousin, was drinking gin, and kept offering some to Mary, who repeatedly refused it. She wasn't her confident self - she was pale and pathetically hiding her face behind her hat.

"What's wrong with you?" Liz asked, in her strong Irish accent. She lowered her voice. "Is the baby troubling you?"

"Shut up!" Mary hissed, glaring at Liz. She looked around the busy pub to make sure that no one had heard, and then looked down at the small baby in her arms, fast asleep, despite the loud noise coming from the punters.

"Hello, hussies!" Annie suddenly exclaimed warmly, as she welcomed herself to their table. She gasped as she saw Mary. "Are you all right, love? Have you had a drink? No? Well, that's what you need. Put a bit of colour in your cheeks!"

Anne gave Mary a tight squeeze, which made her nearly topple over from Anne's strength. Annie had been friends with Mary for four years, when Mary was just 21, and she a late widow. Anne grinned, showing her perfect white teeth. Despite being in her mid forties and continuously smoking and drinking, she had the most perfect teeth. Even though she had been in a brawl with Eliza Cooper over a piece of bread, where she got a black eye, and swollen jaw, her teeth were mysteriously unharmed. Anne slipped her fingers into her pocket and brandished some coins.

"We should have enough doss for the night," Annie said, gently touching the money, as if it was real gold. "I don't know where Polly has gone. I was supposed to meet her outside the church, and I waited ten minutes and she still didn't arrive."

Polly, also in her forties, usually met up with either Annie or Catherine, and it was odd that she hadn't. She was easily frightened, and even though she got used to having to work at night, she always wanted to know that her friends were near. Her fear of being by herself was caused when she was almost killed by some thugs in an alleyway. Mary was divorced, and her husband didn't want anything to do with her, now that she had converted to prostitution.

Annie noticed the bundle in Mary's arms, and sighed.

"Why is the baby here?" Annie whispered.

"I didn't want to leave her by herself," Mary mumbled, "in case she gets taken like Alice."

"Listen," Annie said firmly. "What happened to Alice is not going to happen to the baby. Right?"

Mary forced herself to nod, despite not agreeing at all. She smiled down at the sweet face of the baby girl, Alice, named after her mother, who was cruelly dragged away from her and then tortured by the men who had taken her.

Mary had seen Alice being taken from her home, kicking and screaming for help, and her only child crying in her cradle in her home that had been wrecked by the men. Alice's father was missing - no one had seen where he had gone.

Catherine returned to the table with the drinks. She tried to pick one up, but she toppled it over and it splashed onto Mary. Mary tried to wipe it off her with her sleeve, but Catherine just laughed hysterically at the scene she had caused.

Mary stomped off outside, where the sky was still light, despite it being almost midnight. She held tightly onto baby Alice, as she walked in the direction of her home. Liz followed Mary, and put her hand in the crook of her arm, and strode beside her. Liz admired Mary, despite Mary having one of the worst jobs as being a prostitute. Liz was an artist's model and lived with Mary in a room, where their payment was already overdue.

They walked silently through the dark alleys, where there were echoes of men arguing and women chatting in the distance. When they got to their room, and stepped inside, Mary laid Alice down on her bed.
"Light the candles," Marie said, trying to sound cheerful. "I can't see a thing!"
Liz did so, and sat on her bed. Beside their beds was a small bedside table, where a small, black and white photo of Mary as a young girl sat.

Mary threw her hat on the table, and untied her golden hair, letting it flow around her shoulders. She picked up Alice who was now awake, and staring at the room around her. She suddenly started to cry.

Mary tried to rock her, but it didn't work.

"I think she's hungry," she announced, in her strong cockney accent. "Go and get her some water, will you?"

"I'll try to get some," Liz said, getting up to leave. She went to the door. "I'll be back soon."

Liz left, and Mary tried to stop Alice from crying. Outside her room, she could see shadows of people passing and women cackling with laughter as they strode off with their clients.

Mary looked at the photo of when she was a young girl, and tears welled in her eyes.

"I wish I was back in Ireland," she whispered.

***

Mary and Liz woke to the owner of the rooms swearing and ranting at them.

"Get out!" he spat violently. "If you ain't got no doss, then you ain't staying here!"

Mary and Liz managed to grab some of their things, before they were pushed out of the door. It was about six o'clock in the morning, and Alice began to cry from the noise caused by the owner, but there was even more noise outside.

"What's going on?" Mary wondered curiously, as people bustled past them. It normally wasn't this busy outside. All of them looked nervous and scared, and were mumbling amongst themselves.

Mary and Liz followed the people, with Alice in Liz's arms. Mary stopped a girl, and asked, "What's happening?"

"Ain't you heard?" the girl replied. "A woman's been killed in Buck's Row. Guts everywhere."

"Who's been killed?" Mary pressed, worriedly.

"How should I know?" the girl said. "I didn't kill her, did I?"

She walked on, and Liz and Mary joined the crowd who were all gasping at the scene. Mary and Liz shoved people out the way to get a view of what was happening, but then wished they hadn't.

On the pavement was what was left of poor old Polly. Mary put her hand to her mouth in horror, and Liz spluttered at the stench of the decomposing body.

Polly was covered in blood, and her face was frozen with the look of fear. She knew that she was going to die. From Polly's throat was a deep gash, and thick rivers of blood trailed down the street, soaking into the pavement. Her shawl was covering her stomach, which had been, the police said, "ripped up".

It was all too much - things were happening too fast. Mary had to care for her friend's daughter, who was dragged away, and keep her secret, and now Polly was dead in the most horrific way.

She knocked into Annie, and she demanded, "Who's dead?" Mary collapsed in Annie's arms, and sobbed, "It's Polly! Polly's dead!"