WHITECHAPEL GIRLS By Sarah Jenny INT. VICTORIAN TAILOR SHOP Seamstress has big magnifying goggles, which make her eyes appear HUGE as she looks up from a colorful work. She flips the goggles out to the side, recognizes the woman at the door and covers the work hastily. She speaks with a cockney accent, barely understandable. SEAMSTRESS Oy! It’s the Mrs. then, is it? Oh no, oh no, Mrs has to go! The Mr. said, he did, the Mr. said! Mrs. can’t see it! Go! The seamstress waves her arms, shocking the young wife into retreat. SEAMSTRESS Go!...
I will sit up through the night, doing as she bid.
Did she come to me when I made her a place and begged to see her face? When I placed myself at her command, with my tools in my hand, did she come at my demand?
Of course not then, only now is when. She comes to me, with burning urgency. Now that I lost hope of her this day, now that my tools are put away, now that I closed my eyes to sleep through the night.
Only now she comes, demanding I be the one, to serve her demanding way before I end my day.
Complain bitterly I...