I had a stroke of luck when I got a job at Milwards, an expensive clothes shop. I had a wonderful time there; I met new people and worked hard. As you will see in this story and I quickly learned, good things don’t last! On one fateful day in January 1911, Shelia Birling came into the shop. She took the anger she had against her mother out on me because I looked good in a dress and she didn’t; also I think she saw me smile to another worker and mistook it as me laughing at her. She accused me of impertinence and she started to shout at me. She used her family name to get me the sack. She picked on someone who could not fight back; she knew that she was more important to Milwards than I was. Why does it have to be me living the bad conditions? At least she has a family. Why is life unfair?
Again I was out of work, penniless and desperate. I wish that I could support myself. Unfortunely the only work I could get was prostitution. It was become a prostitute or starve. I am the type of person who aspires to be something not a prostitute. Unfortunately extreme times lead people to extreme measures. I had no choice.
I was at the Palace Bar, the place I used to pick up men, Joe Meggerty, an awful man who chased prostitutes, was manhandling me. A good looking, gentleman named Gerald Croft rescued me. Gerald was nice too me. He made me his mistress; it was an affair because I knew he had someone else. I loved him but he was just using me for sex. At least I lived in total luxury for six months. He ended it in September 1911, I was an inconvenience. I was absolutely heart broken. I felt so used and abandoned. He gave me money to help me for a while; Gerald was the type of man who thought money solved everything. I enjoyed the affair so much that I went off to the seaside and pretended that the affair was still on. I had been expecting it to end any way, as he did not have the same feeling I had for him. Good things never last for me.
I lived on the money he gave me until November 1911. It was then back to being a prostitute, back to the Palace Bar, back to that hellish dreadful lifestyle it was so difficult because I had been away from it for so long. I wish I had never set eyes on Eric Birling. He is the son Arthur Birling. He is a bit shy but that certainly changes when he has alcohol in him. I ended up getting drunk with him. We went home together, I then told him not to come in but he threatened to cause a row. I let him in and he forced me to have sex with him; he raped me. We met often after that. Our relationship was just pleasure, he kept me for sex, we had no feelings for each other. I worked as a prostitute for Eric; it was better, I suppose, than having to work for the likes of Joe Meggerty, as Eric was a young man. I found out, to my horror, that because of Eric raping me I was pregnant with his child. I was so scared when I found out that I was having a child, I fell into a world of despair unable to escape. Where would the money come from to feed the child? I was beginning to really worry about the future. I was stuck, no one would feel sorry for a prostitute, people would think that I had got what I deserved. I was even more frightened when I found out that the money Eric gave me was stolen. I couldn’t take the money anymore, as I am a truthful and honest person. I didn’t see Eric again after that. I don’t hate Eric for what he did; I just think that he should learn that there are more things to life than drinking.
I was frightened and alone, my only choice was to beg for money from the Brumely Women’s Charity Organization. The chairperson was Sybil Birling, wife of Arthur Birling, a cold-hearted woman. She refused me help because she didn’t like me. I told her that my name was Mrs. Birling, I thought I should have the right to that name but she thought that I was being rude towards her. Perhaps she did not want the name Birling being brought into disrepute. She took me to a back room and I explained to her that the father of the child was giving me money but the money was stolen and I couldn’t take it anymore. She said that some one as low as me would not have airs and graces like that; she thought that poor people did not have feelings and morals, that we were animals. I deserved that bit of help she could have given me, especially as it would have supported her grandchild.
There is now nothing I can do; I‘m the lowest of the low. I have gone without food for days. Why did they have to reject my plea for help? How can Mrs. Birling be so cold hearted? Why do I have I to live this worthless existence, trapped in misfortune? I am now in total despair.
I have found out that this world is cruel and unfair. This town, this world is not the type of place that I would like to bring a child up in. I must end this for both of us. I am a victim of others’ lack of morals. I know I’ll go to heaven because I have served my time in hell.
Yours
Eva Smith