Touched by Angels @page { margin-bottom: 5.000000pt; margin-top: 5.000000pt; } � � TOUCHED BY ANGELSAlan Watts� � � Published in the United Kingdom by Aston Bay Press in 2012Kindle EditionCopyright © Alan Watts, 2012Aston Bay Press, Dallam Court, Dallam Lane, Warrington, Cheshire, WA1 7LTAlan Watts has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination, unless otherwise stated, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.ISBN 978-0-9569830-8-4www.astonbay.co.ukCover Design by Richie Cumberlidge at Daniel Goldsmith AssociatesConversion to ebook by www.danielgoldsmith.co.uk� Part OneOneEast End, London, 1912A musky tang of oil and steam drifted in wreaths through Rice Lane from the cargo ships at West India Dock, mingling with the soot and smoke of a thousand coal fires. The factories at Wapping beat a steady throb while their chimneys pointed to a slate sky. A retch of whooping cough came through an open window, while cats screeched fighting over a dead rat.None of this could be heard by nine-year-old Robert Smith.All he could hear was the rapid sound of his own pulse, as his hand hovered over two straws, held in the grubby fist of Lenny Chapman. If he picked the short one, he risked a battering from Big Molly O’Brien. Topping seventeen stone, and with fists like hams, she lived with her mother in the house opposite, and was given to terrible rages over nothing.The other two members of the gang, Dick Morgan and Nigel Boakes were starting to fidget. Feeling safe, they’d drawn long straws ages ago and now they wanted some action.It all became too much for Nigel, as he snarled, �śGo on then, for fuck’s sake. We ain’t got all day!” He glanced around nervously in case they were being watched. �śYeah,” added Dick Morgan, �śwhat are you, a drip? You only gotta nick a couple o’ coins.” He shoved him hard and Robert sprawled against one of the empty beer barrels they were hiding between. �śNo, I ain’t,” Robert gasped, winded, as he pulled himself up, �śand I’ll fump the next wanker who says I am, so fuck off!” He threw a mouldy tomato skin at them. �śWell go on then,” said Lenny through gritted teeth, �śpull one!”There was a fifty-fifty chance that he would have to perform the dare. Robert closed his eyes and pulled and knew before he’d even opened them what the verdict was, as laughter echoed all around. He dropped it as he stood and shook as he made his way, white faced, past the Dog and Duck, across the street, then through the open front door of the O’Brien house, feeling their goading eyes upon him. The boys were tensed up, grinning and ready, for it was normally about now it all went wrong. They had all seen Big Molly in action and some had the scars to show for it.In the hall, where he was terrified of creaking floor boards, he could hear the sound of singing coming from the back yard and the squeak of a mangle being turned. There were stairs to his left, with a scabby cat at the top, staring down, its yellow eyes marking him. The Irish kept their dead bodies in the parlour for a couple of days before internment, and that was where the pennies would be, pressed into the dead man’s eyes. There were two doors, but which led to it? The left was slightly open, so he pushed it gently and peered inside. The pungency hit him like a hammer and he reeled back, gagging. In the half light, he saw her sitting in a wing-backed chair, head back, amid puffed-up ginger hair, gaping mouth lined with great yellow teeth. An empty gin bottle was rolling slowly on the floor beside her. He nearly ran, there and then, because his mother had warned him time and time again to steer well clear. He’d seen Big Molly knock grown men to the ground. He closed the door carefully, walked to the other and tried the handle. It squeaked as he depressed it, only faintly, but he knew she wasn’t sleeping very deeply. He closed his eyes in relief when he had pushed the handle down as far as it would go, wishing his heart would stop galloping, and carefully pushed the door open. He was half way there. A couple more minutes and the prize would be his. The curtains were pulled and the parlour stank of must and burned tallow. A wooden crucifix hung on the wall, above a porcelain statue of the Virgin Mary. He gazed at the coffin, balanced on two trestles, with a lit candle either side, each burned three quarters of the way down. A moth fluttered around one of them, the rasp of its wings the only sound. He saw the waxy grey face of the elderly body in the ochre glow, copper discs for eyes, cheeks sunken in, thin arms crossed athwart his narrow chest, over the moth-eaten suit with a folded handkerchief in the top pocket.Taking the pennies was more than just a dare, they were desperately needed income, which, as part of the deal, he alone would benefit by. Robert’s heart thudded as he reached out, knowing he would faint if the mouth dropped open. Then, just as he touched the nearest coin, he heard a shriek from behind. He turned to see the door flying back on its hinges with a bang and Big Molly charging at him with a soup ladle clutched in her hand. The stench of urine hung around her like a green cloud. �śYou ’orrible little pig!” she screamed, spit flying from her mouth.Robert darted around to the other side of the coffin, terrified. He could hear the others laughing outside. Running would be impossible. He was hovering, left then right, knowing the only exit from the room was her side. She knew it too. �śI’m gonna make you wish you was never born!” she screamed. �śAn’ I don’t care if I fuckin’ swing for it, and then I’m gonna put your dick fru that bleedin’ mangle, ’til there’s blood and fings squirtin’ out of it, that’ll teach�Ś” �śFlippin’ ’ell!” Robert gasped. �śIt’s only a joke.” He saw the mindless fury in her little pig eyes and a raging certainty came over him. He was going to die, horribly and painfully. His voice was papery, no spit at all. �śLook, I’ll just go. If you don’t peach on me, I won’t peach on you, cause if my dad finds out you’ve ’urt me, he’ll�Ś” She took a sudden swipe. It came so close it skimmed the tip of his nose, leaving his eyes watering. He tripped backwards, lost his balance and his right foot shot out, clipping one of the trestles. The coffin started to shake, and before he could do anything, it dropped, tipping sideways. The body tumbled out face down, with the coffin lying on top. Molly staggered back in horror with her hands over her face, the ladle dangling frantically from one of her fingers. An older woman appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron, as Robert was scrambling back up with his heart thudding. A black band circled one arm. She was Molly’s mother, a big woman herself, who muttered, in broad brogue, as she crossed herself, �śWhat in the name of sweet Jesus�Ś” With that, Robert saw his chance. He leapt over the coffin, shoved between them, ran out into the hallway, skidded down the steps and was gone.� ***� As Robert tore past them, the other boys, who had been holding their ribs laughing, suddenly came to their senses and took off. They stopped running after several streets, heaving for breath, watching the route they had taken for any sign of Big Molly, or worse, a cop. Nigel Boakes, who was examining a graze on his left foot, was sure he wouldn’t be doing a lot of sitting down if this got back to his parents, and said so, while Lenny asked, �śWhat the fuckin’ ’ell are we gonna do?” �śWell I don’t know, do I?” replied Dick Morgan. �śAnyway, it’s all your fault, you stupid prick. I never would ’ave done it, if�Ś” �śIs it, fuck! Anyway, they only saw Rob. They don’t ’ave to know about the rest of us.” �śBut you were all there too,” Robert protested, seeing human nature, starkly, and not for the first time, for what it really was, �śand if I get my arse skinned, I’ll bleat, I can tell you that!”They spent the next minutes hiding in the shadows, watching and accusing each other of thinking up the stupid idea, swearing they wouldn’t do anything like it ever again. Then, when they were certain there was no pursuit, they made their way back, their eyes peeled constantly, before splintering, and going their separate ways, knowing that by now, news may have reached home.It was worse still for Robert, as his house was nearly opposite the O’Briens’. Shaking, he walked down the alley behind, so he could enter by the back door and not be seen, hoping that at that moment Mrs O’Brien would be too upset and angry to go around knocking on doors, shouting the odds. � ***� He was in luck, but only because Molly had flown into a hideous fury after throwing the statue of the Virgin Mary at the wall. It had struck it so hard, that when it shattered, a fragment flew back and cut her above the left eye. Then, howling with pain, she had kicked the parlour door off its hinges, and Mrs O’Brien had made a run for it, and hidden herself in the outside toilet, shaking with fear.The neighbours had heard the shouting and screaming, but knew the folly of intervening.Mrs O’Brien had only wandered back when the din had petered out, and only then, very gingerly. She found Molly sitting in her wing-back chair, staring into space, with blood coursing down her cheek. She didn’t seem to notice it. Sometimes, after a rage, she would sit like this for hours, and not a peep would come from her.This time though, she only stayed like it for about fifteen minutes, before the sobs came, and Mrs O’Brien knew it was reasonably safe to approach her.Having only caught the merest glimpse of the boy herself, she put her arm around Molly’s great shoulders; and whilst gently dabbing the blood away with a handkerchief, coaxed from her his name. �śIt were that Smiff boy,” she sniffed.Mrs O’Brien knew the boy Molly meant. There were several families bearing that name around here, but she knew Molly meant the Smiths opposite, where the father, Bob, was a drunken wastrel, and the mother, Lil, thought her shit didn’t stink. By now, she was seething as she lifted her grandfather back into his coffin, and replaced the pennies, before placing the coffin back on its trestles.Then she made another oath, as she had every time her Molly was harassed, that if she ever got hold of that boy, or any of the little guttersnipes he hung around with, she would make him wish he’d never been born!� ***� Across the lane, Lil, Robert’s mother, looked up as he entered the parlour, instantly suspicious of his furtive behaviour. She was darning a sock, but she was so practised, her gaze never left him. Her hair, the envy of Whitechapel, was piled up. A shaft of sunlight, through the cracked pane, made it shimmer like quicksilver. A knock on the door made him flinch, confirming her misgivings. She nodded at him to open it.As he did, she knew he was already thinking up his alibi. She frowned seeing how relieved he was to see it was only Mr King, the landlord, come for his rent. Not that that was especially good news. A shaven-headed thug stood either side, one carrying the rent book. As young as Robert was, she’d made sure he knew what happened to people who hadn’t the money to pay. They were evicted on the spot. If they refused to leave, which was exceedingly rare, the neighbours would hear the sound of a beating for the man of the house, howling children, the wife screaming before the door slammed shut behind them. A few minutes later, they would stagger past, their few possessions strewn between them, and the husband with his head back to stop his nose bleeding into his moustache, with everybody peeking from behind their curtains, glad it wasn’t them. Everybody knew where they would be heading, because it was the same place they always went: the workhouse in Marylebone, which was run by the King family. �śIs your mother there?” His voice was deceptively soft, kind even. �śMight be.”King smiled over the starch of his winged collar. �śMay I see her, young man?” �śDunno. I’ll ask her.” �śYes, that’s all right,” she said. Lil stood up, holding the money they so desperately needed themselves. She neatened her skirt as she passed the moth-eaten curtains and skilfully avoided a tiny mouse as it disappeared through a hole in the skirting board. �śPlease give this money to Mr King, Robert. There’s a good boy.” Seething, he took the two one pound notes. King was taking the rent book and opening it. He took a fountain pen from its spine and, after taking the money and putting it in his already bulging purse, he unscrewed the top and made a neat tick. After he had gone, with a �śGood day to you, Madam,” whilst tugging the front of his bowler hat, Robert looked at her and snarled, �śTwo quid my arse! He’s stitchin’ us up like flamin’ kippers! Never repairs a fing. Why don’t we go an’ live somewhere else?” Lil laughed as she sat and resumed her darning. �śThis is all we can afford.” �śI’ll get a job then. Anyfing, so we don’t have to live in this shit!” �śYou’re far too young. Anyway, you must keep on learning. Then you’ll have better prospects for when you do get a job.” Then she added caustically, �śYou can start by moderating your language. I’ve heard you.” The needle went back and forth pointedly. �śWhat does moderatin’ mean?” �śIt means learning not to swear, for one thing. Profanity is the language of the ignorant.” �śProf�Ś?” He frowned. �śLook it up!” she said, reaching under the table for the heavy, dog-eared dictionary she was always referring to. She thrust it at him and he tottered backwards as he took it. �śWhen I don’t know a word, I look it up. Important as the Good Book. That’s why I read the newspapers too. And you learn what’s going on in the world. No one taught me to read and write. I learned myself, and I don’t drop my aitches and tees, like all the others.” She prodded the air with her darning needle, in the general direction of the street. �śCan Dad read?” Robert asked. �śYou know very well he can’t.” �śIs that why he gets pissed?” She glared at him. �śYour father is a good man. Don’t forget that. He just gets frustrated, that’s all. We’ve all got our shortcomings, including you.” She watched him frowning and nodding, as he tried to avoid looking at the fading bruise she could still feel around her left eye.� TwoThe factory steam whistles were rending the air, above which slate-coloured clouds were gathering. The thump, thump, thump of the factories slowly petered out for the night, as Bob Smith stood, in hob-nailed boots and filthy braces, over the little Irishman he had knocked to the booze-stained floor of the Dog and Duck with a single punch. His bowler hat lay behind and blood was fanned across both cheeks. Bob was proud to be known from Bow to Whitechapel as Fighting Bob. He looked around, grinning through dense smoke, as a cheer went up. The man he’d just knocked out was Benny, the youngest and simplest of the O’Driscoll brothers, a family with an indeterminate number of members, who lived next door to the O’Briens. They protected him like a newborn baby, though Bob didn’t know this, or he’d never have laid a finger on him. Bob burped and flexed his shoulders as he turned, feeling like the King of England. His shirt buttons strained against his gut. The other men started egging him on, which wasn’t hard, and while one of them started bashing tunelessly away at the upright, the landlord called from the bar, �śAll right, Bob, that’ll do. You’ve been ’ere ’arf the day. You’ve enough on board. Time to�Ś” Bob’s grin vanished. �śThis piece o’ shit’s gonna get wasss comin’ to ’im.” He kicked Benny in the ribs, hawked up a lump of phlegm and spat it in his face. He was too drunk to hear the landlord call to somebody, �śGo and fetch a constable!” Benny spat out a tooth as he wiped his face with his sleeve as a meaty arm grabbed Bob’s shoulder. He spun round to lash out, but was no match for Sergeant Sharp of the Met. A truncheon was jabbed hard in Bob’s side, and as he collapsed onto his knees, gasping in agony, Benny was dragged from under him. The moment Benny had been lifted to his feet, somebody handed him his bowler, he hobbled quickly to the door and disappeared. Sergeant Sharp, who stood six feet four, with medals won for gallantry during the Boer War, slammed Bob hard against the wall. He grabbed the scruff of his neck, and shoved him up ’til his eyes were watering. �śNot so ’igh an’ mighty now, are you, Smiff?” Bob said nothing as fear replaced bravado. He was cowering, sobering up quickly. �śYou ain’t gonna pick on someone who can fight back, are you, my lad? Wanna try it wiv me?”Bob flinched, as he muttered, �śJust a grubby lil’ Mick. A wanker. Beggin’ for it.” Sharp raised his truncheon, and Bob was shrinking down like a whipped pup, shielding his face and head. Sharp made a show of sniffing the air before saying, �śSmell pretty ripe yerself. You wanna get that missus o’ yours to fill the tub. A bar o’ Sunlight wouldn’t go amiss niever, if you can spare a shillin’ from the ale, that is.” Then he grated, grin disappearing, �śYou gotta wife and kid to support. Get on wiv it!” He kicked him hard up the backside and Bob made his way blearily out, rubbing his side and rear, cussing under his breath. As curtains parted here and there, some revealing grinning faces, others urgent gestures to come and have a look, his humiliation and anger increased with every stride.� � � � ThreeAs Bob was kicking open his front door, less than a mile away another, much larger one, was being knocked upon; that of the nemesis of all in Rice Lane. The workhouse at Marylebone.A little round man, with pink jolly cheeks and white hair, looked up at the damp, ivy strewn bricks, the barred windows and the three huge chimneys staggering the roof like accusing fingers. He sighed and knocked. A stooped and wizened man answered the door, a small Bible clutched to his breast. A dewdrop dangled from his nose, while spectacles were perched precariously on the end. �śYes, Sir?” His voice was an asthmatic wheeze. �śMy name is William Fishwick. I’ve come about the position of children’s overseer.” The man beamed as he removed his hat, knowing his late wife, a devoted Methodist, would be proud of him for aiding the vulnerable and the poor. �śCome this way, Sir.” The doorkeeper turned and shuffled off, his feet hardly leaving the floor. He muttered continuously as Fishwick followed him through a gloomy reception area. Fishwick couldn’t tell whether he was talking to him, or himself, though it seemed his name was Pocket, and that he �Śdid things’.They came to a high double door, which Pocket opened before limping off, still muttering to himself. Fishwick entered into a small hall, to be confronted by five men sitting atop a high wooden plinth behind a long table. If he was meant to feel intimidated and humble as he looked up at them, it had worked, he thought as he stood there, feeling as though he was on trial. As they regarded him, from their perch, their expressions ranged from distain to haughtiness. �śYour name?” the middle one asked. He was bigger than the others; black hair, monocle, gold fob watch, and a crisp white rounded collar below a double chin. �śWilliam Fishwick, Sir. I’m here in response to your advertisement in the Telegraph newspaper, for the position of children’s canteen overseer.” He smiled warmly.The man grunted as he briefly scanned Fishwick’s correspondence. �śYes, we have your letter of application here. I am Sir Rupert King,” he said, looking up. �śMaster of this institution.” He introduced the others, two of whom were his brothers. Alistair was slim, foppish, with hair so ginger, it looked like spun copper. The other, Horace, the smaller version for Sir Rupert, was the man who had knocked on Lil’s door, demanding the rent. The other two, at the extreme ends of the table, were the Medical Officer, Mr Parsons, and the chaplain, Reverend Crockford. �śThis site was established,” Sir Rupert continued, �śin 1833, as a haven for the paupers of London. We are funded out of the public purse, and here they work unpaid for their keep and lodgings, though their medical care is free. Understood?” �śYes.” �śGood. Now then, have you references?” �śI have indeed.” Fishwick fumbled inside his coat, pulling out an envelope. Sir Rupert beckoned him forward and Fishwick passed it up. The knight let his monocle drop as he read the two sheets of paper quietly. At last, he said, �śYour references are impeccable in most respects, Mr Fishwick.” He reinserted his eyeglass. �śThank you,” answered Fishwick. �śAs a school teacher, you commanded respect, both in and out of the classroom.” �śThank�Ś” �śWas this with, or without, the application of the rod?” �śThe rod? Oh, you mean the cane.” He laughed. �śOh, good heavens, no! Well, at least very rarely. I firmly believe, as I expect you, gentlemen, do, that respect may be fostered more effectively, not by the application of intimidation and fear, but by mutual understanding, kindness, and concern.” Horace and Alistair exchanged glances. �śYour considerations are of course most laudable,” Sir Rupert said, �śbut the children you taught were not, as they are here, the litter of the forsaken, were they?” �śLitter? Oh no! Well appointed families for the most part.” �śWhat then is your attitude towards workhouse children?” Fishwick looked confused. �śWell, the same, of course, except that�Ś well, greater consideration and kindness, I suppose, should be�Ś” �śLet me remind you, Sir, that these are not the offspring of decent hardworking families, but of the slothful, the deceitful, and the ungodly. They are the spawn of failures.” �śYes,” his brother Alistair added, �śthe dwegs, don’t you know? Weal scum. They should be in Borstal, some of them.” Horace nodded in agreement. �śGod has bestowed his mercy upon them,” the chaplain reminded him in a wheeze. �śDiscipline is what is required,” King resumed, �śif necessary at the end of your stick, and if you are hired, you must not spare it, or we will have anarchy!” �śBut surely, Sir, the Good Book teaches us that kindness and compassion foster harmony, and�Ś” King picked up a little brass bell and tinkled it. �śWe will let you know by return of post, Mr Fishwick. Good day to you.” He started writing something on the sheet. The double doors opened. Pocket reappeared and Fishwick was led away, dazed and white-faced.As the doors closed, the doctor said wearily, �śPhilanthropists by the score! Well meaning I suppose, but�Ś” He shook his head. There were further sighs as the door opened once more and another man walked in, removing his wet top hat, before standing before the plinth. He was tall and slender, bald except for a grey fuzz that surrounded his crown, which he had tried to brush forward, with lamb chop whiskers and washed out blue eyes that never seemed to blink. Far from a natty dresser, he wore a tatty frock coat, the buttons rubbed nearly bare with age, but there was a bearing about him, and the set of his face, that appealed to the five sets of eyes that scrutinised him. Sir Rupert examined his references, and nodded several times, before asking, �śWhat is your attitude, Mr Flint, towards the spawn of the poor house?” �śI believe, Sir, simply in the good Lord, discipline and the rod. All other considerations are secondary.” Sir Rupert and the others exchanged approving glances. At last.� FourFighting Bob had such a sudden headache as he slammed the door behind him that any feelings of resentment towards his wife and child, for being set above him yet again, were shelved for the time being. To make matters worse, having been in the pub since noon, he had nearly run his pockets dry, and had no idea how tomorrow’s session was going to be funded. Half an hour later, as he sat at the dinner table, bored with Lil’s twittering on about the same old things, he looked at the crystal ball she used for fortune telling and wondered once more where she hid all the pennies she got for looking into it. He felt sick as he regarded the hunk of high smelling boiled beef, and the bowl of watery cabbage and chopped carrots next to it. �śLet’s put our hands together and thank the Lord before we start,” said Lil. If the Lord was so damned good, he always reasoned, why didn’t he send better fare? �śWass this?” A burp and a loud, wet fart sent the reek of stale beer across the table. �śYour dinner. The same as me and the lad.” Bob grunted as he poked at it several times with his fork. Then he lifted a spoonful of veg and dropped it back. The spoon clattered against the bowl. �śI wouldn’t feed this shit to a pig.” �śWell, that’s all there is. We’ve no money for anything else. You’ve drunk the rest.” A tense silence fell around the table.Bob looked at her and said, with dangerous calm, �śDon’t start tellin’ me what to spend me readies on. It ain’t got nuffing to do wiv you.” �śIt is when our bellies are pinched, and there are backs to be clothed.” Bob snatched up his fork and threw it across the room. �śI said don’t start tellin’ me what do wiv�Ś” �śI only just managed to scrape enough together to pay the rent man today, and as for next month�Ś”Bob stood suddenly and bawled, red faced, inches from hers, �śWell, stick it up yer arse then, you fuckin’ ’oare!” She closed her eyes against the spit flying from his lips. This infuriated him even more, so he kicked the table on its side, sending the beef and cabbage flying. Lil fell backwards, narrowly missing hitting her head against the mantelpiece, crushing both elbows. Scraps of cabbage were strewn around her. Robert had retreated against the far wall.Winded, she said, �śRobert, go outside.” �śNo.” �śI said go outside!” �śNo. Every time I goes outside�Ś when I come back�Ś ye’re bleedin’.” �śCheeky little runt!” Enraged, Bob went for him. � ***� Robert ran, just making the door, and tore out onto the street, where he crashed into the dust, shaking, knowing how close he had come to a cuff. He saw Mrs O’Brien glaring at him from her top step, a dangerous gleam in her eyes, arms folded, with Big Molly standing beside her, pointing, but they were as nothing to the commotion coming from his own home. Innocent of his impending fate, Robert heard something smash, and then, �ś�Ś all yer fuckin’ learnin’ and yer oity-toityness, eh! Fink yer shit don’t stink, don’t yer? Talkin’ like a fuckin’ toff all the time. Fink yer better than me, don’t yer?” �śGet away from me!” �śFillin’ that little tyke’s ’ead wiv all them big words. Givin’ ’im ideas ’bove ’is station. Wass ’e gonna do wiv all this learnin’ lark, eh? You fought o’ that? Loada shit, that’s what�Ś” �śGet a proper job, that’s�Ś” �śReal work’s wiv yer ’ands, not wiv all that learnin’.” �śWhat do you know about work?” �śCheeky cah!” Something else smashed. �śYou get away from me, Bob Smith, or so help me God, I’ll�Ś” �śOh yeah. Wot yer gonna do, eh? Stick me wiv it? You ain’t got the guts!”� ***� Lil was backed up against the parlour wall, holding the carving knife in a two-handed grip, her hair falling into her eyes. �śCome on!” he goaded, grinning, as he edged ever closer, �ślet’s see what yer fuckin’ made of, yer slag! Let’s see yer loose me guts all over the floor. Come on!”His eyes were burning, his grin a feral flash of filth. She was slashing blindly, shouting repeatedly, �śGet away from me. Leave me alone!” Then, just as she caught his arm, tearing more sleeve than skin, his fist struck the side of her face, knocking her to the floor. The knife flew end over end. Before he could reach for it, a huge hand grabbed his wrist, spinning him round, and a fist landed squarely on his nose, another walloping him in the stomach. Two of the older O’Driscoll brothers dragged him out onto the street, where another punch threw him onto his back. Lil ran out and heard one of the identical twins rasping, �śDat was fer punchin’ our Benny.” He kicked Bob in the hip and added, �śAnd dat was fer hittin’ yer woman. You leave her be, and our Benny, or you’ll have us to deal wid.” �śPiece o’ shite!” the other one said and spat at him, before they both turned away and left him sprawled on the street. � ***� He thought he saw Robert before he passed out, but when he opened his eyes, he was horrified to see Sergeant Sharp, who said, with a big leer, �śWell, if it ain’t my old chum, Bob Smiff.” He leaned closer, hands on knees, and added, �śAin’t your day, is it, me old mucker?” Bob was suddenly gasping as a torrent of water from the street horse trough was poured over his head. As he shook it and opened his eyes, he saw Mrs O’Brien holding a pail, as she said, �śHe’s the father o’ the house. Should be ashamed o’ himself.” He just caught a glimpse of her grabbing Robert by the wrist and pulling him firmly away, before Sharp said, �śSix months rock breakin’ would take the starch out o’ you, my lad; that, or a dose o’ the cat.” As he was walking off, laughing, Bob muttered, �śPiss off!” �śWhat was that?” �śNuffing.”� ***� Robert was having the starch taken out of him too, as he found himself over Mrs O’Brien’s knee, howling and struggling as the back of a varnished beech hairbrush came down again and again against his backside. He had never known such pain, as the threadbare rug, and a Bible, placed there first, to warn him of the folly of defying the scriptures, loomed before his watering eyes.In between each stroke, she was saying, �śIf that wastrel of a father o’ yours won’t discipline you, boy, I shall! With a will!”She was sitting in the same wing-back chair he had seen Big Molly dozing in, while the girl herself stood watching from the door, arms folded, a spiteful smirk tugging the corners of her lips. Mrs O’Brien was absurdly strong and there was no escape. �śIn future, you will respect your elders and betters,” she said, as he finally stood, rubbing his rear, �śand you may tell your friends to take heed. My brush awaits them too!” When he left, tears streaming down his face, he wanted to get to his mum, who he could hear crying beyond the bolted front door. His father was up against it, knocking and begging. �śLet me in! Please! I won’t ’it yer again. �Śonest. You just pissed me off.” There was no reply, so he hammered on it with both fists and kicked it a couple of times, before crumpling down onto his knees. Robert knew it was not beyond him to smash his way in and take his belt to her.� ***� It was completely dark by now and Robert was making his way quietly past him, heading for the back alley, as Bob snivelled, �śIt’s gettin’ cold out ’ere, an’ I’m wet. That slag tipped water over me, an’ those Micks gave me a levverin’. I could get yoomonia and it’d be your fault.” No reply. �śThe kid’d be an orphan. You fought o’ that? ’e’d be in that work’ouse. I’ve ’eard they bugger ’em. Shag ’em raw. Is that what yer want?”Still no response. �śCome on, please! ’av an ’art. You know yer me duchiss, always ’av been. Always will.” Robert heard his voice fading as he made his way past. Two cats were fighting somewhere as he found the alley. There was a full moon, so he was able to move quite easily. He didn’t think it would be long before his father thought of coming this way, so he got a move on. When he got to the back door, he found that it too was locked, though he heard his father shouting and bashing against the front door once more. Knowing that in his state, it would take him a while to get round here, he put his mouth to the wood, cupped his hands around his lips to amplify his voice, and called, �śMum, let me in. Mum!” He kept calling, listening all the time, in between shouts, for his father’s approach, knowing he could be as quiet as a mouse when he wanted to be. It seemed to take forever for her to respond and he wondered how badly hurt she was. He felt the sting of fresh tears and he wished he were bigger. He’d had a few clouts himself. He could see a faint glow through the kitchen window and knew that at least she’d lit the two oil lamps that stood one at each end of the mantelpiece in the parlour. He heard a commotion from behind him and knew Bob had finally got wise. He had been sneaking round to surprise him, but in his drunkenness, had blundered into something, as a howl of pain and a clatter of metal came through the darkness. �śMum, quick! He’s comin’.” He heard the bolt sliding back and the moment he was inside, she shot it once more, before sweeping him into her arms. Within seconds, both were in tears, though it was only in the light of the parlour that he saw her shredded ear, surrounded by redness and bruising. In that moment he hated his father more than ever. The night wore on, though there was no more commotion from outside. Maybe Sharp had arrested him after all, though they both knew from past experience it was more likely he had found a niche somewhere to sleep it off. They were cold and hungry, but Lil grabbed him by both arms and said, as tears streamed down her face, �śI want you to promise me you will grow up to be a good, decent man.” �śYou mean, not like ’im?” She shook him. �śHe’s your father. Show more respect.” He looked at her bewildered. Grown ups. He never would understand them. �śPromise me!” She stared deep into his eyes and he replied quietly, �śAll right, I promise.” �śAnd it doesn’t just mean talking, or dressing nicely, or sitting in church pretending you’re good. It means a whole lot more besides. It should come from your heart.” �śAll right,” he said, with more conviction. �śI promise.” He felt the tears drip from her chin onto his head and knew it wouldn’t be long before she would start talking again about how she wanted him to grow up in a world away from the opium and the grape. That she wanted him to be a success, a winner, a strong, tall man. But instead she embraced him in silence and held him for a long, long time.� � � � � � � � � FiveThe next day, Robert didn’t want to go to school; not for any reasons of laziness or neglect, but for genuine ones of worry. His father hadn’t come home, but it wouldn’t be long before he did, and there was no telling what he might do. Sergeant Sharp’s threats were only any good in the very short term. As soon as his dad’s fear of him wore off, his old habits would be back. �śWhat did I say last night?” Lil asked him, as they heard the work whistles piping shrilly through the cold morning air. �śThat you want me to be good. That’s what I’m tryin’ to be, by protectin’ you.” �śYou have goodness in you already,” she assured him, as she stood at the sink washing the breakfast dishes, �śbut it will find better expression through your schooling. And in view of that, why did I see Mrs O’Brien taking you away last night?” She continued scrubbing, not looking at him, her equivalent of an angry dog’s bark. Robert looked at the side of her face, shocked. He’d been certain she couldn’t have seen anything, or cared less, such was the state she had been in. �śEr�Ś well, she was tryin’ to get me away before I got hurt.” �śDon’t give me that. She had a face like thunder.” She turned suddenly and grabbed his shoulders with soapy hands, making him jump. �śYou’ve been teasing Molly again, haven’t you? You and those little hooligans you hang around with.” �śNo!” �śSo what did you do?” He was a hopeless liar and saw no sense in further bluff, so it all spilled out. She nodded several times, though if he thought any sympathy would come his way over the hair-brushing, he was sorely mistaken. �śIf you play with fire you get burned, and for what you did, you’re lucky that this time only, I’m content to let it be. You know how the Irish are with their dead. Now off you go to school and learn how to behave.” Just as he was about to leave, she produced a thruppenny bit from her dress pocket and said, �śBring me back a newspaper, and with the remainder, buy yourself a sweet.” He grinned and pecked her on the cheek.� ***� As he was leaving, counting his blessings, he didn’t see his near-sober father loitering across the lane, in the thin alley that ran between the O’Briens and the O’Driscolls. Bob Smith wanted a drink. Damp and miserable from a night spent half comatose in a neighbour’s back garden, after fetching up against a wheelbarrow, and taking the skin off one knee, he was watching his front door through the workers trooping past. He knew exactly the moment when he would make his way across, and sure enough, ten minutes later, it came. He saw the door being pulled open, and a moment later, out she came, with the small table she used for her fortune telling. She placed it in front of the window, before going back inside, and reappearing presently with two stools. These she put either side of the table. Then, as she was going back in to fetch her crystal ball, he nipped across and was in.She jumped, startled, as his arms were suddenly around her, crushing her breath, his filthy hands groping her breasts, pinching her nipples. �śWhere’re yer pennies?” �śGet off! What pennies?” �śDon’t give me that shit. The ones you get from�Ś” �śThat’s all money to pay bills. Now get off me!”His body odour made her gag. She was struggling, more frightened with every second, knowing this would end in one of two ways. He would either beat her up, or rip off all her clothes and rape her on the floor. �śI said get off me!” �śYer me woman, ’an you’ll do as I sez, an’ you’ll shag when I sez. Now where’re the�Ś” She brought her heel down hard on his foot and he screamed, letting go. �śYou’re not having any,” she told him, nipping over to the other table, by the fireplace, where she kept the ball. �śWe need it to pay the bills.” She grimaced against the pain in her breasts and added, �śUnless you want asylum with the King brothers. Then you’ll never sup again.” Enraged, he made to hop towards her and reached out to grab her dress, missing her by inches.She picked the ball up, and seeing his eyes flicking towards the open door, where he knew anybody might be eavesdropping, she knew that this time, he would leave her be. �śAnd you’ll not have me either, until you can wash first, and learn a few manners.” She was tempted to say more, like telling him to report for work, for instance, but knew, that as she was ahead for once anyway, it was senseless provoking him further.Mumbling, he hobbled to the door and after giving her an acid stare, skulked off. She spent the rest of the morning sitting one side of the table staring into the heavy ball, seeing nothing but hundreds of tiny bubbles and an inverted image of the punter, always a woman, sitting opposite. Many a time, she had drummed into Robert the evil of lying, yet lie she did, on the one hand hating herself for it, and on the other, watching the pile of precious pennies steadily growing, knowing that any other income, was at best, tenuous. With her clients, some of whom were regulars, her lies were never too incredible, as they would be seen through, but as everybody around here was as desperate for a bolt hole as she, they drank in the fiction, rather like the one peddled to Nigel Boakes, Dick Morgan, and Lenny Chapman, by Robert, as they sat at their desks in the classroom, though his tale was at least half true.� � SixMr Myers walked along the rows of boys slowly, tapping his heel with his cane. It was hidden mostly beneath his gown, but everybody knew from painful experience that as a cutlass, it could appear in a flash. He was slightly deaf though, so when he was beyond eyesight, the whispering went round. �śNah, don’t believe yer,” Dick whispered, trying his best to smirk, �śanyway, she lays a finger on me, my dad’ll give ’er a black eye.” �ś’ow?” Lenny said. �śHe’s in the nick.” The others laughed and Lenny added, as he looked at the sketch of a daffodil before him, �śGod, this is borin’!” �śBut she did,” Robert insisted, �śI’m tellin’ yer. She yanked down me pants first. Bare arse. An’ Big Molly ’eld me in a head lock while she did it, so’s I couldn’t get away. I was screamin’ an’ screamin’. Fought I was gonna be sick, it hurt so much. An’ you’re all gonna get the same.” �śBollocks!” �śWhat a loada shit!” �śShe wouldn’t dare.” �śAll right, if you don’t believe me, we’ll go in the bog at lunchtime, an’ I’ll drop me drawers an’ show�Ś”Whack!Four pairs of eyes were standing out on stalks at the sight of the wicker, stretched over Robert’s desk. It had missed his fingers by scant inches, but shattered the stencil he had been sketching with. Bits flew around like shrapnel. �śHave you something to say to the class, boy?” �śNo, Sir.” They looked up at the long thin face, upon which the mouth could barely be seen through the moustache. He looked around the four waxen faces, as he flexed the limber rod, and said, �śDo you want two cuts apiece on each hand?” �śNo, Sir.” Mr Myers closed his eyes and stuck his nose out towards the blackboard. �śMorgan, what is a stamen?” �śEr�Ś don’t know, Sir.” �śBoakes, what is a petal?” �śOh easy, it’s a�Ś” �śShut up, you stupid boy! Any fool knows what a petal is. It is the intricate you must study. Only that will assure you ease in life. You boys will study, and study hard, or by God, you’ll be in the poor house, with pinched bellies and oakum raw fingers. Do you understand?” �śYes, Sir.” He looked around the class, lest others needed caution. �śNow get on with it!”They carried on sketching, this time in silence. � ***� In Rice Lane, Lil watched the O’Driscolls lining up on the other side of the street, along with the occupants of all the Irish houses, as a horse-drawn hearse pulled up outside the O’Briens’. They were dressed in a motley collection of black, and each sported a black armband. It amused her, in spite of the occasion, that they always seemed to arrange themselves in order of height, with their mousy mother at one end. Four pallbearers came out the O’Briens’ door, carrying the coffin from which her son had tried to take the pennies, with Mrs O’Brien and Molly following. They were arm in arm, snivelling, dabbing their eyes with handkerchiefs. Mrs O’Brien held rosary beads in one hand, while the O’Driscoll sons and everybody else doffed their hats, which ranged from flat caps to bowlers that had seen better days.As the coffin was being loaded into the back, Mrs O’Brien burst into tears, and at a prompt from his mother, Benny O’Driscoll ran forward to steady her.Lil stood out of respect as the procession moved off, with big Michael O’Driscoll winking at her as they passed. She knew it was he who had saved her from a much worse beating the night before. Her legs felt wobbly as she watched him, seeing his powerful arms, that she could imagine enveloping her and taking her away, and his dark face, smudged here and there with traces of blood from the cutthroat razor. She hoped her hot flush wasn’t too obvious.When they had passed, she carried on, and by the time the whistles were piping dismissal from work, she had amassed nearly five shillings, and felt quite pleased with herself. She normally averaged no more than three.� ***� Fighting Bob was feeling rather smug too as he felt the heavy jingle of coins in his pocket, purloined from the upturned cap of the old soldier who stood outside the Mission in Pudding Lane, wearing blacked-out spectacles, selling laces for a farthing a throw. Bob had bided his time, to make sure nobody was looking, before shoving him over, kicking him and taking his money. Until now, he had been increasingly fidgety through alcohol withdrawal, but now, the world was his friend, as he stood in the Dog and Duck among his cronies and the welcoming thick smoke and said, �śSix pints o’ Porter.” � � � � � � � � � � SevenRobert was scared of what he might find, when he arrived home from school, but heard his stomach rumble after Lil opened the door. He smelt roast lamb, potatoes and thick gravy. There was mint too, unless he was mistaken. The fire was lit and Lil greeted him with a warm smile and an embrace, as she took the newspaper from him, her crowning glory piled up once more. He grinned as he thought of Lenny, Dick and Nigel, who had still been sceptical of his tale, ’til, with a little sadistic glee, he did as promised. He had taken them into the school toilets, and lowered his pants to show them the red welts and purple bruises from Mrs O’Brien’s hairbrush. He could almost hear the gulps of fear. On their way home, Lenny and Dick had picked another route, rather than pass her house as they usually did, and Nigel had even suggested they get Sergeant Sharp onto the case. Now, Robert didn’t care a jot, as he sniffed the air again and asked, knowing this sort of fare was a rare luxury, �śWhere’s Dad?” �śI don’t know.” �śBet he’s in the pub.” Annoyed at his cheek, but knowing he was probably right, she said nothing for a minute as she started carving, before saying, �śI doubt it. He has no money to speak of. Perhaps he reported for work.” Robert wondered who she was trying to kid, him or herself, as he watched her pouring gravy, while over in the Dog and Duck, Bob looked at the landlord as though he’d come from another planet. He couldn’t believe his ears. He had refused to serve him.� EightTed Baker was a weedy-looking man, with drooping skin, spaniel eyes and sagging shoulders, but he knew bad money when he saw it. He was one of those men who had the rare gift of knowing how to deal with the likes of Fighting Bob, without shouting, threatening, or ending up on his back, holding his nose. Six pints of porter, at sixpence a time, normally comprised six coins in his hand, if they were sixpences, or thirty-six at the most, if they were pennies. By the time a little mountain, mostly of farthings, stood on the bar before him, a process that had caused the activity in the pub to first slow, and then stop, Ted had become suspicious. The rumour had already got round that an unwritten rule had been broken; namely, that an old soldier had been turned over.A dozen sets of eyes were watching as he got to the seventy-fifth little coin, counting them out quietly, when Ted asked, �śWhere’d you get this money, Bob?” �śWhat d’ya mean?” �śThey’re nearly all farvings.” �śSo?”He resumed his counting and stopped at eighty-four. �śI asked you where you got this money.” �śEarned it, didn’t I?” He turned, grinning, but although his chums were anticipating their drinks, none were laughing. Some were looking away, while others were conveniently lighting cigarettes and pipes. An elderly man at the back, with a brick red face, permanent grin and medals on his chest said, over his pewter tankard and stick, �śWe all knows where yer fathins ’ail from, young ’un. You go put ’em back, an’ we’ll say n’more.” He leaned back, nodding earnestly.There were grunts of agreement all around, so Bob rasped, �śI said I earned it!” �śOh yeah?” said another voice, �śI work in the same factory as you. You been gone this past week an’ more, an’ rumour ’as it yer sacked.” Murmurs of agreement followed.Bob looked around, glaring at the obstinate faces. Seeing it was no go, and feeling horribly sober, he rasped, �śIf you buncha shits ain’t gonna gimme any ale, I’ll find some bastard who can. You can rot in ’ell!” He swept the coins into the air with his forearm and they tinkled as they fell around like brass confetti. Somebody mumbled, �śArse’ole!” as he stormed out, kicking the door open. It wasn’t until the cigarette smoke was replaced by that of hundreds of coal fires and cold, dank air that the words �śYer sacked!” echoed through his mind. He thought too of what Lil had warned him, of going into the workhouse, where he would �śnever sup again.” He wasn’t so far gone that the tales about these terrible places had gone unheeded. On top of unremitting toil, there would be no booze either, ever again. Daily prayers only. God, he would never bear it�ŚHe looked down at his hands. They were shaking. He needed a drink to make the horror go away and for that he needed money. Lil had money. As he was pushing the front door open, wondering if perhaps a new tack was required, such as appealing to her for it, across town Mr Flint was standing once more before the wooden plinth in the workhouse, top hat before him. � ***� Flint was silent, as the man with the monocle regarded his references more closely, while to his side, Horace was muttering something to Alistair behind his back.At last, Sir Rupert looked up, and said, �śBefore we make our final decision, why was your employment as headmaster of this school terminated so abruptly? The reasons you give are rather vague.” �śIt’s quite simple,” Flint replied, sensing he was among sympathisers, �śin these days of mounting, namby-pamby social reform, my ways are regarded, by some, as too austere. I confess that I am an advocate of the very severest forms of punishment, those to which only the underling and the simpleton will respond, the very types, if I may be so bold, to whom board and lodging are extended here.” The six heads nodded and muttered to each other in agreement. �śI was removed for reasons deemed by the Board of Governors, as�Ś well�Ś” He trailed off, as he racked his brains for a more acceptable synonym. �śWanton cruelty?” Sir Rupert asked, as his monocle dropped. Flint looked aghast. �śGood Heavens, no, Sir! I merely believe in getting results and see the means of so doing as immaterial. There is no impropriety in my method whatsoever. The rod is, and should be, as a last resort only, though its application should be, I’m sure you’ll agree, with zeal, or not at all.” He failed to mention that his dismissal had come about as the result of a ten-year-old boy in need of having a brace of cuts stitched at Bow infirmary.He was about to continue, sure he had failed the interview, when Sir Rupert held up his hand and began conferring with the others. At last he said, �śYou are hired, Mr Flint, for a probationary period of six months. Please report for duties at eight o’clock tomorrow morning, sharp.” He tinkled the bell once more and Flint smiled, withdrawing gracefully.� ***� Somebody who certainly wasn’t smiling was Fighting Bob. Not only had his wife, to whom he believed he had selflessly devoted God knows how many years of his life, eaten without him, leaving his share on a plate to get stone cold, but she had also refused point blank to give him any money. He had been certain that asking for it, rationally, would bear fruit. �śI have told you,” she said, �śwe need the money to pay bills.” �śJust a few bob. A few pints. Ain’t gonna make much diff.” She folded her arms. �ś’Arf a bar then.” �śNo!”She stared at him, even though her knees were trembling, and added, �śAnd where are your wages?” He looked sheepish. �śDunno.” �śIf we are unable to pay the next rent, we’ll be out.” �śYeah,” Robert added, ducking back slightly, �śan’ you know what that means.” �śSo where are your wages then? I expected them, yes�Ś” She didn’t get any further. Bob grabbed Robert round the neck, with one arm, and the carving knife with the other and growled, as he held the blade to his throat, �śNow get them coins, now, or I’ll fillet the little runt!” His eyes glinted madly. Lil had frozen solid and, seeing the terror in her son’s eyes, rasped, �śYou harm a single hair on his head, they won’t have to hang you, I’ll�Ś” He pressed the blade even harder, eyes glowering, and she was backing off slowly towards the fireplace. She turned and lifted one of the tiles on the hearth, reached inside a hole underneath and pulled out a small leather bag. It was bulging with coins, more than a week’s worth. With a seething and terrified look in her eyes, she tossed the bag to him, and it chinked as it struck the boards. Bob grinned as he shoved the boy away. He picked it up; it was deliciously heavy. He tossed it up and down a couple of times and whacked the knife into the table, where it stood quivering. He headed for the door, feeling as though he’d struck gold.� NineBob stayed away all the rest of that day and the next, and it was pretty obvious that by then, every penny had gone on booze. Lil had a deadline to aim for. March 25th, the day when King would be along for the rent. By that time, she not only had to scrape together the two pounds for it, but enough to feed them too, for it also became more clear with every passing day that Bob really had been sacked from the factory.She knew something else too, that if the worst came to the worst, he would conveniently be out of the way when the knock came and she would never see him again.The day she and Robert were taken into the workhouse, they would be separated, as it was deemed inappropriate that parent and offspring should work together, in case of sentiment impinging on their productivity. If that happened, her life might as well be over. The days began to blur into one, with that terrible day looming ever closer, and every so often, Bob did turn up, but only for money, food or sex. A sort of nerve war ensued, where he would demand payment, knowing she had been sitting at the ball from dawn to dusk. He beat her up on three occasions, the last time raping her on the parlour floor when she refused him, and knocking one of her back teeth out. After this, and by now in fear of hers and Robert’s lives, she started hiding about two thirds of the money in one place, and conveniently letting him �Śfind’ the rest, after an often violent tussle, so as to dampen his suspicions. And then, before she knew it, there was just one day left to go. Today was March the 24, a Sunday, and she had not managed to scrape the money together. She had only amassed about three quarters, and short of stealing the rest, had no idea how to get it. People would take a very dim view if she sat outside with her ball on the Sabbath; not that she would earn enough anyway.Bob had staggered home from the Dog and Duck at midday, so drunk he could barely stand up and had stood outside the front door, shouting in each direction that he would take on any man who could fight. Nobody obliged and most laughed. He had been sick, reeled indoors, and fallen asleep in one of the armchairs, where a bomb wouldn’t shift him.Lil had gone to church, where she sometimes sang solo, and taken Robert with her. She had worn her best dress for the occasion, and a floral bonnet, though both had nourished the moths. She had felt her cheeks flush as she saw Michael O’Driscoll watching her, trying hard to avoid his gaze.Determined her only son would be a credit to her, Lil had dressed Robert in a clean, pressed shirt, and trousers, and combed his hair just so. His shoes, old as they were, were polished, and he had found his weekly dip in the tin bath that hung on the back door, a more harrowing ordeal than normal, made worse by the fact that he increasingly couldn’t see much point. After all, you only got dirty again.He had pointed this out, and the fact that Lenny only washed about once a month, and she had told him to be quiet, as she had used a scrubbing brush on his back, which had set his teeth on edge, and said that now his skin tingled as if it were alive. Lil laughed and squeezed his hand gently.His face had turned crimson when Lenny, Dick and Nigel saw him, an effect heightened by the white of his shirt. They had started taunting, calling him a drip, a pansy, a flower, and every other insult they could lay their tongues to, with a lady present, until Lil told them to shut up, and him, to ignore them. They had run off laughing, sticking two fingers up at Mrs O’Brien, who was cleaning her windows. Lil and Robert came back at two to find Bob still asleep, with dried vomit down his shirt and trousers. She’d done again a lot of thinking whilst in church, and was determined her only son would not end up like him. � ***� Robert was therefore soon sitting at the table, looking down at an open Bible, trying hard to ignore his father’s disgusting excesses. �śDavid and Goliath,” his mother told him, �śfrom the Book of Samuel in the Old Testament. I want you to read it and tell me what you learn, for it will have a bearing on your future life.”Robert sighed as he regarded the page, and yawned. His idea of fun was not sitting here reading this boring drivel, but being out there with his mates, teasing Big Molly, or stealing sweets from the grocer’s, MacPherson’s on Cross Street, not because they wanted sweets, but because Mr MacPherson himself would chase them. He smirked as saw in his mind’s eye that great red face in that mass of white beard, yelling threats as he chased them, unclipping his thick belt as he ran. He always seemed to get one. Then there was school.What greater fun was there than pushing the goody-goodies over in the puddle of piss that never seemed to drain away in the toilets, or stuffing Mr Myer’s cane up the stove pipe, as Dick had done, and watching him go berserk when�Ś? �śSo, what can you tell me?”His mother was suddenly at his side, wiping her hands down an apron, and he jumped, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. �śWell, he killed ’im with a stone from a sling.”He couldn’t believe that he’d actually waded through the words.Perhaps the vivid colour illustration in the upper left hand corner had helped, of a little pansy in what looked like a frock, standing before a giant. The pansy looked like one of the goody-goodies. �śYes,” Lil replied, as a series of grunts came from the corner of the room, �śBut what is the point of the tale?” �śEr�Ś dunno.” �śEverything in the Bible has a point, even if it is not immediately obvious. I’ll tell you how I interpret it. I think it demonstrates that however small and insignificant you may feel, you can still overcome obstacles that seem like mountains. Look around you.”Robert complied wondering what was the point of looking around the same old room. �śHorrible, isn’t it?” Lil asked him. �śBut with monumental effort and endeavour, you can do much better.” �śWhat’s endeavour?” �śDoing your best, trying to rise above, conquering. There are many other passages in the Bible, from which you can learn, even if you are not religious. That’s why I always call it the book of common sense.”Lil gave him another passage to read, this time about Samson and Delilah, saying that this would demonstrate that even out of something as rotten as their own existence, good could still come.She picked her newspaper and finally left him to it when there came a knock at the door. Lil nodded at Robert to open it. Certain it would be Sergeant Sharp, the only person left, after his mother, who Robert had any respect for, he hesitated. �śWell, open it then!” she told him. He did, with visions of Borstal and the birch, to find Mr King instead, rent book in hand, and felt that same strange relief as a month ago, when he had thought it would be Mrs O’Brien. King was alone for once, without the muscle, but as he took his pen from the book’s spine, it was clear that, for whatever reason, rent day had come a day early.Lil stood and King smiled a slobbery smile, removing his bowler hat. She lifted the crystal ball off its ring, handed it to Robert, picked up the money she had hidden beneath and said, �śI’ll have the remainder by next Saturday.” King’s smile vanished, and that soft voice, almost a wheeze, issued forth. �śThe rent, madam, for your tenure, is two pounds�Ś” �śYes, I understand, but we have temporarily fallen on hard times. We have never once defaulted, in all the six years we have been here. I am a woman of my word, I will�Ś” �śPlease don’t bandy excuses, madam. The terms of the lease are quite clear�Ś” Robert snapped, �śLook, she ain’t got it! She sez she’ll get it, an’ she will.” �śRobert, that’s quite enough. Mr King is well within his rights to demand the agreed�Ś” �śNo, he ain’t. This place is a loada shit! He never does a fing to improve it. Lenny’s place ain’t much better. It’s so damp, ’is mum’s got the consumption. Gone into a sanatorium. Prob’ly die.” He looked at the chain to King’s gold fob watch, hanging over his food-stuffed corpulence and added, �śSides, he’s so rich, he don’t need�Ś” �śYour lad would profit from a few good rump cuts, Mrs Smith. Our new children’s overseer will oblige when you come knocking. We’ll make it our first task.” He walked in to take the money, but Robert stepped in front. Unused to such defiance, King nearly blundered into him, but Robert stood his ground. It wasn’t until he was up close that he could see just how repulsive King really was. His greying, plastered down hair looked as though it had been cut round with a pudding bowl. His face was crimson, his lips like sausages and his double chin so restricted by his winged collar, Robert didn’t see how he could breathe, as he glared at him through small, watery eyes. His breath reeked so badly, Robert winced, feeling sick. �śGet out of my way, boy,” he hissed, �śor, by God, I’ll have my men thrash you and your whore of a mother so hard, you’ll crawl, not walk, for our sanctuary.” His cheeks had flushed purple. �śYeah? Well, your thugs ain’t ’ere, so what�Ś” King pushed him to one side, and a short tussle ensued, before he shoved the boy backwards into the wall, winding him, before marching forward. Robert tightened his fingers around the ball and threw it at King with all his might. When it struck the back of his skull, there was a sickening crunch, like an egg breaking. It dropped to the boards with a thud, and King seemed to stand still for a long time, though his arms had suddenly become rigid. The rent book fell from one hand, and the bowler hat from the other, rolling in a circle before coming to a halt.Lil staggered back, her mouth dropping open, as King’s eyes rolled up into their sockets, exposing the whites. He tottered from side to side and Robert felt the bile coming up into his throat, as he saw that King had a deep, ball-shaped dent in the back of his head. As young as he was, he knew King would die. King started moaning, �śGaaah�Ś gaaah!” in between hitched breaths. Then he dropped like a sack of spuds and crashed in a tangle of arms and legs on the floor. There he lay, bucking and twitching, hands clenching and unclenching. The �śGaaahhh!” sound was getting ever louder, as spit ran from the corners of his mouth, while blood snaked its way out of his left ear and dripped onto the floor. Through it all, Bob slept on, still without a care in the world. Robert stared at his mother, taking nothing in but the horror in her eyes. She stood up and clenched her arms around Robert, whispering, �śPlease God, forgive me for what I am about to do.” � TenSeeing a shaft of sunlight cutting through the dusty air, she stumbled over the twitching body to close the door before anybody looked in.She hadn’t anticipated Robert’s reaction, until he started shaking, though at least King had stopped saying, �śGaaah!” Thank God.Now, the only sounds in the room were of Bob’s breathing, interrupted every so often by little burps and farts, and Robert snivelling. After several attempts to get his mouth working, he whispered, �śI fink he’s a goner.” Lil watched the spreading puddle of blood and spit, as Robert wiped his streaming nose on his sleeve. A fly was crawling over one of King’s glazed eyes.Without saying anything, Lil knelt and felt for his pulse. There was none. Robert’s voice was broken and scared. �śI didn’t mean to kill him, ’onest. I only meant to ’urt him, ’cos he was ’urtin’ you. Tryin’ to take all yer money, and, and�Ś” His voice was rising, becoming hysterical, so she put her finger to her lips, and whispered, �śSssh! Keep your voice down.” She ushered him into the kitchen, and crouched before him, so they were the same height. �śI didn’t mean�Ś” �śBe quiet! Only the good Lord can be your judge. Have you any idea what you’ve done?” He looked at her, baffled. �śYou have broken the Sixth Commandment. Thou shalt not�Ś” �śI didn’t mean it! It were an accident, honest!” He was shaking even more, his eyes darting this way and that. �śI told you to remain silent!” Scared, she gripped his shoulders and stared into his eyes. He wiped both them and his nose, and blurted, �śThey’re gonna hang me, aren’t they? They’ll make me swing for it.”He tried to pull away, but she held him fast. Tears were pouring down his face. �śDon’t be silly! Do you really think I would let that happen? But if you don’t keep your mouth shut, and do as I say, they will probably transport you to the colonies to slave for the rest of your life. Is that what you want?” His face blanched even more. �śNo!”She had meant to scare him, because right now she needed him scared, and to tell the truth, she wasn’t sure what they would do with him, at only nine years old. But that of course, was purely academic. With what she had in mind, the boy was completely innocent, and upset only at the terrible carnage. �śNow what I want you to do,” she told him, �śis this. You must run off directly and find Sergeant Sharp. This is his patch, so he will be hereabouts somewhere. I don’t want anybody else to come, only him. Understood?” He nodded. �śYou must tell him to come quickly, as you think your father has accidentally, remember that word whatever you do, accidentally killed the landlord, by striking him with the ball, as they quarrelled over the rent.” Shock and disbelief spread across the boy’s face. �śCan’t we just bury ’im in the yard? That way�Ś” She shook her head gently and looked once more into his eyes, glad to still be able to see the innocence. It hadn’t occurred to him that people may have witnessed King entering the house. �śJust cut along and do as you’re told.” He backed his way to the door, his eyes not leaving the body for an instant. When he had gone, she sat down to calm herself. She knew it wouldn’t take long before he returned with the Sergeant. Calm and composed, she stood up and moving with swiftness and precision, went through the pockets of King’s jacket and waistcoat. She found more money in his purse than she had seen in her lifetime and pulled out the most of it, leaving a decent bundle in, to dampen any suspicion. The Bible might espouse goodness to others, she thought, as she counted the notes, but in all her study of it, it had never shown her how to survive.She turfed out his trouser pockets, her palm outstretched to catch the loose change. The last thing she needed was Bob to wake up. There was so much, she wondered how the lining had not worn through with the weight. Then, as she frisked him further, his gold fob watch slid out of the little pocket on his waistcoat and swung back and forth on his belly. She gulped, as she looked at the scrolled engraving on its face. Fully aware of its probable worth, her heart began to thud, as temptation gnawed at her. She unbuttoned the waistcoat, threaded the watch’s chain out of the button hole and flicked it open, just as she heard Sergeant Sharp saying to Robert, beyond the door, �ś�Ś fer the ’igh jump lad, any mischief!” Shaking, she snapped the watch shut, and after briefly fumbling to thread the chain back, and failing, she hid it in her knitting on the mantelpiece. She was stepping away from it, guiltily, as the door opened and in strode Sharp, who was so big and beefy, he blotted out most of the sunlight. He was, without doubt, a damn good cop, and known by his superiors and peers as a �Śsteady man’. He wasn’t overburdened with brains though, which was precisely why Lil had summoned him. ***� Sharp seemed to be surveying the scene with a knowing look in his eyes, while his nose wrinkled against the reek of the house. He looked at Bob too, remembering what the boy had told him. Then Sharp’s gaze fixed once more upon the reason for his presence, the body of Mr King. Sharp knew he was despised, though it was a flimsy defence, unlikely to save a man like Fighting Bob a one-way trip to prison, or maybe even the gallows. Without any further ado, Sharp marched up to him and wakened him in the only way he knew how; with several truncheon pokes in the ribs. At first Bob made grunting noises. Then he batted the truncheon away, growling, �śGerraway from me, yer bitch. Piss off!”Then, when he opened his eyes and saw who his true tormentor was, he turned paper white with shock.He sat up gingerly, his bulging eyes on the varnished stick, blinking away the effects of the drink, and scratching some lice in his hair. He still didn’t fully come to his sense, until Sharp said to Robert, �śOff you go now, lad. Go and play wi’ yer mates,” and then, to his father, �śBob Smiff, I’m arrestin’ you for the murder of�Ś” �śEh? But I done nuffing.” �ś�Ś Mr ’Orace King.” He produced a set of handcuffs. �śWhat�Ś what you talking about? I ain’t done�Ś” He glanced at his wife, as he opened his mouth to voice further denial, but she averted her gaze. �śShe did it,” he whispered, struggling up, shocked. He reeled and fell back down, his head pulsing painfully. �śI suppose she did them cuts and bruises on ’er face too,” Sharp replied, snapping on the cuffs, and yanking him upright, �śyou’re a bad un, Smiff, and you ain’t gonna winkle out this time. Wiv any luck, Mr Ellis’ll do for you.” �śI didn’t do it, I tell yer. She did it!” he shrieked.He turned to Lil, as Sharp was dragging him to the door, and growled, �śGo on, tell ’im the truf, you lyin’ cah! You keep on about ’ow you’re a soddin’ Christian. Go on! Tell ’im.”By now, a small crowd, among them grinning regulars from the Dog and Duck, and Mrs O’Brien and Molly, were gathering in the street. Benny O’Driscoll, whose nose now pointed permanently to the left, asked, �ś’oo’s Mr Ellis?” �śThe ’angman, lad,” replied the elderly gentleman who had told Bob to take the farthings back from whence they’d come. He puffed contentedly on his pipe, grinning, as his medals glinted in the sun. A scrawny woman near the back, in a shawl, said, shaking her head, �śGawd ’elp us! ’ee must ’ave done ’er in, the poor mite.” �śBastard!” muttered somebody else. �śHe’ll dangle,” said another, �ś’an I ’ope it bleedin’ well ’urts!” And yet another, �śThat poor little lad. It’ll be the poor ’ouse fer ’im, you mark my words. Skin an’ bone ’ee�Śll be inside a year.”Big Molly was grinning too, as Bob emerged from the door, with Sharp’s ham-sized fist holding the scruff of his neck. He lifted both hands, which were fettered in front, to shield his eyes from the glare, as his head pounded and thumped. He shouted his innocence up the street, as the crowd bayed and hissed, with one calling out, �śYou bleedin’ coward. Rope’s too good for yer!” Somebody threw a rotten turnip, which struck him of the back of the neck.� ***� Robert was watching his front door through a veil of tears. What his mother had said about the sixth commandment was true. He had broken it, the most sacred one of all. Yet it was she who had forced the silence upon him and he knew in his heart of hearts he had no other choice than to keep it.He stayed away ’til gone four, aimlessly wandering the streets, feeling as though his and his mum’s lives had reached the end. He had no idea what to expect as he arrived home, though he knew it possible his God-fearing mother might have cracked, and told the truth. He saw the horse-drawn hearse of Buck’s Undertakers outside the house. A sizeable crowd had formed once more, some giving cheers at the sight of Horace King instead of Lil Smith, being brought out. As he was loaded into the back, with his Bible, the rent book, on his belly, a cheer echoed from one end of the street to the other, and such is the fickleness of human nature, that for a few minutes at least, Bob was a hero. All could relax, and the Inkpens, a family of particular frailty, and Lil’s immediate neighbours, stood in a line as the hearse passed, while Mrs Inkpen, toothless and aged well beyond her thirty-four years, muttered, �śGawd bless ’im.” Everybody hung around after the hooves had faded into the distance, hats in hands, hoping to catch a glimpse of Lil, but she never came out. Soon, they went back indoors, knowing that at some point soon, a replacement would be sent for Mr King. � � � ElevenIt happened much sooner than even the most cynical would have thought; an hour and ten minutes later, to be exact. The King family were not to be denied their income from the estates they owned in Stepney, Bow and Whitechapel, for even a day. Sir Rupert turned up with the two brutes who had accompanied his late brother. Tall, bristle-headed and scarred, one had mutinied from His Majesty’s Navy, and was on the run from the law, while the other, Mr Belcher, had been born in the workhouse itself. Employed for the most part as overseers, they were feared for beating people up during debt collections. Knowing they might turn her home over, hunting for the fob, Lil would have had the shock of her life when they came knocking, had she not heard the terrible commotion coming from the Inkpens, to give fair warning. With only a few minutes to act, her eyes still raw from crying, she emptied her odd-bod box, and put the watch and money inside. She told Robert to bury it in the patch of earth behind the outside toilet. While he carried on, she listened to the screams and smashing glass and crockery coming from beyond the thin wall. It was clear what the problem was. They couldn’t pay their rent, and if that wasn’t bad enough, they had stupidly refused to leave. Through the window, she watched Sir Rupert polishing his monocle, as weasel-faced Mr Inkpen came literally flying out. He crashed in a tangle of arms and legs at his feet, where he lay groaning in a cloud of dust, and within minutes, his wife and nine children lay around him like skittles. Sir Rupert calmly re-inserted the monocle and wrote several lines in the rent book, as they trooped off, hobbling and crying, never to be seen again.The moment he knocked on Lil’s door, she knew her misgivings were right, as after handing over the rent, he snapped, �śWhere’s my brother’s fob watch?” �śWhat fob watch?” �śThe one you stole from him.” �śI know nothing of�Ś” Not caring to argue, Sir Rupert said to the thugs, �śSearch the house. Ten pounds to the man who finds it. Then, when we have it, we’ll have a constable arrest this harlot and her brat.” They shoved Lil and Robert out the way and simply smashed the place to bits. Trembling, Lil held Robert by the shoulders, certain that, when it wasn’t found, they would at least be cast into the street. Ten minutes later, they listened with their hearts in their mouths, as the back door was kicked open. Then they heard the tin bath clatter as it was booted off its nail, and more vaguely, the toilet being ransacked, though they were clearly clutching at straws. When they came back empty handed, Lil could only hope Robert would have the sense to hide his relief, as she was doing. Sir Rupert was nodding and saying, �śMmmmm,” as he regarded them suspiciously, and then, �śif you tell me where it is, I’ll give you ten pounds and allow you stay rent free for a year.” She was looking at him stunned, thinking she’d misheard him, and when he added, smiling, �śCome along, my dear, you must realise it is a very generous offer,” she began to wonder exactly what it was worth.She had to force herself to say, �śI have no idea where it is,” whilst gently pinching Robert’s shoulder, in case he was tempted to say otherwise, and added, �śperhaps the undertakers took it.” Sir Rupert regarded her as he chewed his lip, before saying, �śI’ll not let this rest. If I find out you’ve got it, or had it�Ś” He left the sentence unfinished and looked at them pointedly, before saying to the thugs, �śGentlemen!” They walked off to the next house. Lil closed the door, and gasped, �śJesus!” as she and Robert collapsed into each other’s arms.� � TwelveWhen the hysteria had worn off, she told Robert to go and get the watch, and was soon mystified as she examined it, not that she could think straight anyway. Thinking of Bob, she felt numb as she turned the expensive, though otherwise ordinary-seeming timepiece over. The dilemma of either allowing the law to take its course or do the decent thing was tearing her apart. She knew that, if she did, and even if she managed to avoid prison herself, she and Robert would be knocking on those workhouse doors in very short order, while Bob walked free, not caring a fig, as he made a beeline for the Dog and Duck. She envisaged him supping a frothing tankard, while the upright played, as the big doors opened like a mouth, to swallow them up forever. She saw him blind drunk, while she sewed mailbags and Robert picked oakum.As she flicked the face of the watch open though, she knew that, however bleak a picture she painted of him, the guilt would never leave her. She knew too, that at some point soon, when the fuss had died down, she could wander into town to get the watch valued. Then get out of here to give Robert the life he should live.For now though, she told him to hide the watch under her bed.� ***The trial of course was something they couldn’t avoid. As they made their way to Court, Lil knew that there was no guarantee that however well she primed Robert beforehand, he wouldn’t crumble under cross-examination.�śYou get it wrong,” a little voice whispered, �śand you’ll lose him forever. It’s up to you now, your only son, or the drunken slob who has tormented you without respite. One chance, and one chance only!”She had drilled one fact into Robert though, that he must never, never deviate from, whatever anybody said; and that was the fact that she had not been in the parlour when the altercation between his father and Mr King had occurred.She had been in the kitchen. There were three people only in the parlour; himself, Mr King and his father. No fourth party had witnessed the assault, she assured him, so nobody could prove a thing, however suspicious they may be. �śYou must remember: the injury was accidental, or your father will be hanged!”The trial was taking place in the Inner London Crown Court at Southwark, and, as Robert climbed the polished wooden steps into the witness box, she remembered another passage she had made him read in the Bible, a long time ago. That of Judas Iscariot, who had hanged himself in a thunderstorm after betraying Christ.She wished she hadn’t, as such a storm could be heard howling outside now, as Robert looked into his father’s pleading eyes, across the silent courtroom, in the dock. � ***He had never seen his father so scared. It wasn’t hard for him either to recall his mother’s bruises and endless tears. He looked pathetic, washed out and broken.His ashen face sported a series of nicks, where he’d cut himself shaving, and Robert knew that if he couldn’t convince the jury that Mr King’s death wasn’t deliberate, it wouldn’t be himself facing the rope, as Judas had, but his father.He had to get it right.He shuddered as he thought of the possible consequences if he failed; of his mother being led to the noose and himself being loaded onto a ship bound for the dominions.He felt the bile come up into his throat, as he tried to dispel the hellish images that formed in his mind. He looked around. He noticed that everything in this correct, chilly place was polished, as he gripped the rail and looked around the sea of grim faces, scrutinising him as if he were some loathsome insect; and there was a smell too, that of buffed leather and varnished wood. It was making his stomach churn. He had been told by his mother to look straight ahead, and not look at anybody, but it was impossible not to. He was surrounded.Mrs O’Brien stood among the crowd in the Public Gallery, her face like a side of salt beef under her hat.Four places along from her, next to Michael O’Driscoll, stood that horrible man with the monocle, who had told those two thugs to smash their home up, whilst hunting for the fob. Even Mr Myers, his schoolmaster was there, watching him glumly through his bloodhound eyes. He was glad that Lenny, Dick and Nigel weren’t there, perhaps kids weren’t allowed in.The courtroom had high windows, and fleetingly, it was lit up in bright yellow as lightning struck somewhere over Victoria Dock.The ensuing bang sounded like a furious demon thumping the sky and Robert stumbled and nearly fell. The Clerk of the Court steadied him, to murmurings from the gallery, and Robert found himself looking down at a Bible, as the Clerk said, �śPlease repeat after me. I promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God.” �śI promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and everything but the truth, so�Ś”Laughter roared from the jury and public gallery, while Lil closed her eyes, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her.She noticed they weren’t all laughing though, which somehow made it worse. Sir Rupert King was slowly shaking his head, whilst polishing his monocle, while Mrs O’Brien’s mouth hung open in disbelief.Then there was another bang, though not of thunder. The judge’s gavel. �śI will have silence in this court!” he hissed. The laughter petered out. �śNeed I remind the Court,” he added, glaring around through watery blue eyes, �śthat a man’s life may be at stake here?”Robert watched his father turn from white to very pale green. He was made to repeat the oath, and this time he fumbled through, just, while Lil watched on, inwardly praying.The Counsel for the Prosecution then stood, gripped his black gown in both hands and said, �śPlease tell the court, precisely what you saw.” �śWell,” Robert said, �śhe were drunk, my dad, I mean, and he didn’t mean to do it and Mr King was annoying him�Ś” �śThat may be so, but my question was not to establish his motive�Ś” �śHis what?” �śHis reason for committing the offence.” �śObjection, your honour!” snapped the Defending Counsel, standing ramrod straight and turning in a swirl of black. �śIt has not been ascertained yet, whether any offence has been committed.” �śSustained,” said the judge. �śPlease do not lead the witness, Mr Pettigrew. The jury will disregard the Prosecuting Counsel’s inference.”Mr Pettigrew bowed briefly to the judge and turned his attention back to Robert, smiling to reassure him. �śSo, what did you see? Please take your time. Cast your mind back. Any detail, however small it may seem.” �śWell, it were after Mr King came for the rent. Mum was in the kitchen doin’ some�Ś” �śLies!” his father growled suddenly. �śIt’s all lies. It were that lyin’ cah! I’m tellin’ yer. I never touched ’im.” He pointed a shaking finger at Lil, and the gavel banged down once more. �śIf you do not rein in your tongue, Sir,” the judge grated, �śyou will be held in contempt of court.” �śBut yer lordship, yer ’ighniss, I didn’t do nuffink, as God’s me witness.”He crossed himself, something he had seen the Irish do innumerable times, and Mrs O’Brien whispered to herself, �śSweet Mary, Mother of Jesus!” �śPlease continue,” the barrister said. �śDad was drunk. He didn’t know what he were doin’, I swear, and he threw mum’s crystal ball at Mr King, and it hit his head and he went down, makin’ funny gruntin’ noises, an’ he was bleedin’, and�Ś well, that’s�Ś how it was.” �śAnd only your father, yourself, and Mr King were in the room at the time?” �śYeah, like I said. Mum was in the kitchen.”Bob was shaking his head in disbelief and for once he was speechless. �śI apologise for my next line of questioning,” said the barrister, �śbut it is relevant. Would you say your father is a violent man?” �śObjection!” snapped the Defence. �śThis line of questioning is not relevant to the case in hand.” �śOver-ruled,” said the judge. �śI consider it most relevant and so must the gentlemen of the jury. Please continue.” Robert was silent for a while, before saying quietly, �śYeah, s’pose he is.” �śAnd is your father a dishonest man too, given for instance, to lying, stealing and cheating?” �śYeah,” Robert said, hanging his head. �śPlease speak up, so the court may hear.” �śYes!” said Robert firmly, while his father gaped. �śVery good. No further questions, your honour.”He sat, picked up his fountain pen and now Lil began to really sweat, as it was the Defence Counsel’s turn.The barrister was a smallish man, with an eagle nose, topped by two of the bushiest eyebrows Lil had ever seen. He looked as keen as Sheffield steel. He looked at Robert for quite some time before speaking, rather like a bird of prey, sometimes consulting his notes diligently and then making marks with his pen. �śDo you understand, young man,” he began at last, with an indulgent smile tugging his lips, �śthe meaning of the term perjury?” He said the word slowly and with deliberation. �śYeah, it means tellin’ fibs.”The barrister was rather taken aback. �śWell, actually, it doesn’t just mean that, you know. No indeed! Not naughty little white lies in school over marbles or catapults.” He punched the air playfully. �śIt means something much more serious, and indeed, unforgivable. It means lying under oath.” He grinned condescendingly, and added, �śFibbing, if you prefer, before God himself.” �śYeah, I know,” Robert retorted, remembering how his father had once knocked his mother down the stairs and how he had stamped on one of Robert’s few toys, a carved wooden steam engine, smashing it to bits. �śAnd that’s why I didn’t lie.” �śI sincerely hope not,” he said, seeing his client standing there, glassy-eyed. �śPerjury is a very serious crime and you would not go to heaven either.” He paused. �śYou have asserted that only three persons were in the parlour when the altercation�Ś the fight between your father and the landlord, Mr King, took place.” �śYeah, there were.” �śWho was the third person?” Robert gulped and said, �śIt were me. Mum was in the kitchen, like I said. She was cookin’ or some’ing an’ she didn’t come in ’til after it had happened.”The barrister scratched his head. �śAre you aware that your father may be hanged?” he asked, looking suitably appalled at such a dreadful prospect.Lil started squirming. �śYeah,” Robert said. �śBut only if he killed Mr King on purpose and he didn’t. It were an accident, I swear.”The barrister’s lips thinned and Lil could see his agile mind working, but in the end he shook his head and said, �śNo further questions, your honour.”� ***� As the jury were returning, nearly two hours later, the whole of the courtroom was lit in hues of ochre and flame through the windows, while the warm spring sunshine broke through the clouds. Lil felt cautiously optimistic at last, as the Clerk of the Court asked the Foreman, �śHave you reached a verdict?” �śWe have.” �śAnd is your verdict unanimous?” �śIt is.” �śDo you find the accused, Robert Smith, guilty, or not guilty of the wilful murder of Mr Horace King?” �śGuilty�Ś”Lil swayed with horror, though a great cheer came from the gallery, and somebody piped up, �śHang the bastard!” �śYeah”, cried another, �śSlowly, so he feels it!” �śPlease, no!” Lil thought, as Robert steadied her, �śNot this. Anything but this!”The gavel banged like a drumstick and then the foreman finished his sentence, �ś�Świth a recommendation for clemency.”� � � ThirteenBob wasn’t the only the only one to get a life sentence that day. There were the Inkpens too. All eleven of them. Scared to death, they were sitting on hard benches in the cold Receiving Rooms of Marylebone Workhouse, under the chilly grey eyes of Miss Beckersdeth, the Matron, and Alistair King, here as always to watch as they removed their clothes. Mr Pocket stood in the background, muttering, Bible in hand. It was he who had received them at the doors. The family shivered in their nakedness, the older ones feeling their skin crawling as King’s eyes wandered over them. There was an assortment of other internees too, who couldn’t cope any more. Some were hopping with fleas and lice, as Mr Parsons, the Medical Officer, started counting boils and carbuncles. Miss Beckersdeth was pacing up and down, tapping her thigh with a strap as they donned their blue serge uniforms. �śSilence is the rule,” she barked. Her voice was like a reed, her mousy hair tied back in a bun. �śThe penalties for laziness and disobedience are solitary confinement, on bread and water, for adults, and flogging for any brood. There will be no nonsense. There will be no appeal. Clear?” There were nervous murmurs of agreement, but then grasping hands appeared from nowhere, plucking away her children, and Mrs Inkpen screamed, flying at her, �śYou’ll not take me kids, you bitch! Give ’em back! You give ’em back!” Her hands were locked into claws. Spit flew from her lips. Her eyes burned with hate.Her husband tried to pull her back, soothing, �śWe’ll be together again soon, love. Promise�Ś” �śLet me go. I want me kids!” �śWe’re a family,” he assured her, �śwe’re united. Soon as I can get work we’ll�Ś” �śYou stupid damn fool!” She tore herself away from him. �śIt’s cos o’ you we’re �Śere, you an’ yer ale, yer good fur nuthin’�Ś” She started slapping his face and he put his arms up to shield himself.Beckersdeth nodded at two of the orderlies, who calmly restrained her. She kicked and scratched to be free, hollering as her kids were dragged away, one carrying the screaming baby, as urine trickled down her legs. She tore at Beckersdeth once more, shrieking, and managed to kick her before the orderlies held her back, while Alistair watched on in fascination. Her screams echoed down the dreary corridors, and out into the work yards, where the women plied the washboards, the men smashed flint and the boys picked oakum. Few but the idiots in the infirmary stirred, who simply grinned back stupidly. Mrs Inkpen had seen paupers before, with their pallid skin, lank hair and thousand-yard stares, and she made the same oath that most of them had, when they were interned here, years before. That she would never end up like them. � � � � � � � FourteenLil only had a vague idea of what it was like in these places, but even so, she had seen so many people go there and never come back, she would sell herself if necessary to keep herself and her boy from it. For her, life wasn’t so bad after all.Yes, she thought of Bob from time to time, knowing she would have to face visiting him at some point, but at least he hadn’t hanged, and her guilt was largely tempered by the many scars, both mental and physical, that accompanied it. The money wouldn’t last forever and she knew it important to maintain a veneer of normality, so she carried on reading fortunes, determined that at some point soon, Robert would have to find work too, to supplement their income. However it was done, she knew they must never follow in the footsteps of the Inkpens.Without the corrosive effect of having Bob around, her health and nerves were improving, together with Robert’s behaviour, and soon, she hoped, she might find proper work herself, as a seamstress. Things could only improve.On this particular day, Robert was somewhere indoors. He no longer played with those rough boys, thank God! His swearing had diminished considerably and even his diction had improved. He had taken to scanning the newspapers, as well as the Bible, more and more, taking an interest in the world beyond the borders of their grubby street. It was as though the whole experience had forced him to grow up. She even caught peeks of him flicking through the dictionary when he came across a word he couldn’t understand and this gladdened her all the more.Lil’s eyes were flicking from side to side as she gazed deeply into the ball. After telling sixteen-year-old Annie Pearson she would meet a �Śsailor from the Empire’, for instance, she had met, fallen in love with, and married a Canadian merchant shipman called Johnnie Preston. Lil had already surmised he would come along, after hearing Annie’s mother saying to a neighbour, rather snobbishly, that as none of the lads around here were good enough, she would take her daughter down to the docks, where she knew the ships from the colonies came in, undoubtedly with fantasises of her marrying a ship’s captain. Now, both mother and daughter had spread the news that Lil was �Śtouched by angels’ and Lil was busier than ever. She glanced up at Mrs Cuthbertson, who was wrapped in a shawl, wheezing over a cigarette clamped between a nicotine-stained finger and thumb. Her wrinkled face was framed with frizzy grey hair and she had a coughing fit as she took another drag, before asking between gasps, �śYou mean my Sid’s got a few bob stashed away?” She grinned in anticipation, flashing the pink of her toothless gums. �śThrough the clouds of despair, shines the majesty of prosperity,” Lil had said, a prophecy that could be understood in so many ways, it was impossible to contradict.Mrs Cuthbertson coughed some more and Lil let the fit pass before adding, gravely, �śI see a man through the mist, a man once lost, a tall man, a wealthy man�Ś” Mrs Cuthbertson’s son had been released early from prison and word had it that he had recovered the loot he had salted away from a mansion he had burgled five years before. She was about to carry on, when an icy finger traced its way down her spine. A man, exactly as she had described, stopped before her. She saw his shoes were buffed, and he wore an expensive, tailored suit and bowler hat. He looked around slowly and gripped the Gladstone bag he was carrying harder. �śMay I speak with you in private, Mrs Smith?” he asked. Mrs Cuthbertson, leaning forward towards Lil to hear the rest about the tall, wealthy man, snapped, between coughs, �śYou wait yer turn. It ain’t manners to butt in!” �śIt’s very important,” he added, ignoring her completely. Trembling, Lil pulled Mrs Cuthbertson’s penny from the little heap of coins in the drawer and handed it back, certain this glib-looking man was a detective. Mrs Cuthbertson stood, glowering, snatched the penny and wandered back to her Sid, muttering to herself. Lil looked him up and down and said at last, �śPlease come inside.” She was convinced, as he followed her through the open door, that he was going to utter the words, �śLillian Smith, I am arresting you for the murder of�Ś” Scared half to death, she watched as he lowered the Gladstone bag to the floor.� � � � FifteenWhen he said instead, �śI am the only son of Horace King, the gentleman who owned this establishment,” she didn’t know whether to be relieved or scared all the more. Perhaps he was merely here to inform her that, from now on, as sole beneficiary of his estate, he would be her landlord.Instead, he said, �śI want the fob you stole from him.” �śI beg your pardon?” �śYou heard! It was missing when his body was collected. Only you or your kid could have taken it.” Bluffing away her fear and certain now that the watch must be worth much more than ten pounds, she snapped, �śMr King, quite apart from the fact that I am innocent of any crime, your family has brought us enough misery already. I do not have your father’s watch or anything else that belonged to him. Now, please leave us alone.” She made to go for the door, but he didn’t budge. As she was opening it, he said, �śI’m not the only one who thinks it odd that a man of your husband’s temperament would kill in the way that was alleged.” �śWell, he did, so�Ś” �śI could always get a private investigator to find out who really did it. The forensic techniques now are really quite breath-taking.” She paused, looking at Robert, who had appeared at the bottom of the stairs. King added, �śI’ll hire the very best in London. Money will be no�Ś” She turned on him. �śGet out of my house!” �śNo, madam, my house. I have inherited it, and every other hovel in this street, and several dozen others. Now give me the watch or you’ll be sorry.” He was much more determined than his uncle and she knew he wasn’t going to give in as easily. King advanced upon her again. She backed off, more frightened by the second. The windowsill dug into her thighs, and with nowhere else to go, she shoved him hard. She would never recall what happened in those next few seconds with any clarity. It was a blur of arms and legs, Robert leaping out of the way at the last instant; King hitting the mantelpiece back first, mouth wide open in a silent scream. She would never forget the gurgling noise coming from his throat, as he went down on his knees, with his hands groping behind his back. It wasn’t until he toppled forward on his face, and lay there gasping and raking the floorboards with his fingernails, that she realised what had happened. One of her knitting needles was stuck almost full length in his back. Robert had staggered back as far as the stair rail, paper white with shock.Lil’s hair had fallen into her eyes. She walked a step closer, shaking, unable to take her gaze from the long spike she guessed had fatally pierced his heart. She was wondering if she should try to pull it out, when his right hand suddenly shot out and grabbed her ankle. She yelped and stumbled, falling into an awkward sitting position, with her dress in a ruck around her. Still holding her ankle, his face turned up towards hers, a picture of agony. He tried to speak, but a long wheeze and a frothy sound came out instead, followed by a trickle of blood. His head dropped to the floor with a hollow bang, though his eyes remained open. The grip relaxed on her ankle and she shuffled quickly backwards until she met the door. She looked across the room, over the second dead body to adorn the floor in less than a fortnight, to see her son transfixed by shock, eyes as wide as saucers, mouth gaping open.She struggled up slowly, her mind racing, as she pushed her hair out of her eyes, knowing there would be no winkling out of it this time, even though what had happened was a genuine accident. She knew that sending Robert off to find Sharp was a waste of time, because even as dense as he was, he wouldn’t believe a second alibi. Sheer despair engulfed her. She would certainly go to prison and might even hang, while Robert would be taken away to God knows where. He was blubbing by now, as he asked, �śWhat�Ś what are we going to do?” �śDo?” She was almost angry. �śThey’ll think we murdered him.” She sat at the table, her legs weak.Robert’s voice had no strength in it. �śBut�Ś we�Ś we didn’t. He fell against�Ś He was pushin’ you about�Ś and then�Ś” Numb, she wished she could stop trembling, as she tried to think what to do. Then there was a rap on the door. She jumped as though an electric current had passed through her. Robert bolted upstairs. She knew that whoever stood beyond would see the body if she opened it more than a crack. Fighting panic, she dragged it under the windowsill, thankfully on the opposite side to which the door opened, as another, louder rap came. She opened it about two inches, knowing if a constable stood there, the game would be up. Instead, there was a squat, middle-aged woman, wearing a choker that gleamed with a Star of David. Her grey hair was piled up in a bun, with brass pins running through to secure it. Mrs Cohen from Carnaby Lane was another of her regulars.Apart from the fact that she, too, thought Lil was blessed with her �Śgift’, her agile mind would wonder how, with her husband gone, worthless as he had been, she could afford to turn business away. So, against all her instincts, Lil stepped outside, hoping to God Robert wouldn’t have a breakdown in the next ten minutes.As she started going through her pitch trying to stop herself from stuttering and being sick, her mind was still churning over the few dubious options open to her. As Mrs Cohen finally wandered off, happy with what Lil had told her, that her own idle husband would soon be up off his backside, doing some work, something else occurred to her too. Something of perhaps vital importance.She was twitching as she went indoors to find out.� � � � � � � � � � � � � � SixteenIt stood on the table, beckoning. The Gladstone bag.She was glad it was getting dark, so she could legitimately pull the curtains and light the oil lamps. Then, after a nervous glance at the door, she pulled the bag towards her, and clicked it open. As Robert watched, she pulled the two halves apart, and their eyes started from their heads, as she reached inside and pulled out a wad of pound notes.She whispered �śMy God!” as she studied it, before laying it on the table. Then, feverishly, she pulled out another, and another, and another. They were wrapped in bands of royal blue, freshly printed, with the intoxicating scent of the Mint. There were so many, she had to stack them, and when she had finished, they stared at the foot high fortune for a very long time. Certain she was trapped in a dream, she flicked through one of them, to find there were a hundred notes and a hundred wads, making ten thousand pounds in total. The sum was so vast, it was almost impossible to comprehend.But what was she to do with it�Ś?Take it to the police, or to Sir Rupert King or�Ś or use it to take her and Robert away from this dump forever? There was more than enough.She looked at him and knew there would never be another opportunity. The boy didn’t stand a chance here, however much she endeavoured to change things, or make him read the Bible.She sighed long and hard as she looked at the book too, sitting next to the bag, as if God himself had placed it there, as a pious reminder.That little voice was back. �ŚHonesty won’t pay the bills,’ it whispered slyly. �ŚIt won’t clothe or feed you. It won’t pay your ticket to a street without whooping cough and consumption.’She exhaled long and hard as her gaze turned back to the money. She looked at the body too, and the same question popped up in her head. What was she to do about him? She closed her eyes, put her elbows on the table and put her face in her hands, as her brain raced. She knew she had no choice. He would have to go and the money would have to stay.More than an hour had passed since King had arrived, and she knew, as she threw a blanket over him, that his disposal would be difficult. If she started digging in the back yard, she was likely to attract attention, because there were too many windows and too many people used the back alley, as well as the stray dogs that might try and dig him up. It would also have to be done during the hours of darkness, which would fuel any suspicion. She considered dumping him in the stinking canal that took the sewage from Canary Wharf into the Thames, knowing the rats would dismember him in no time, as they did the tramps and drunks who sometimes fell in, but again, there was the risk of him being found. Robert asked again, �śWhat are we going to do?” �śThere is only one thing we can do. In the morning, we will lift the floor boards, put him under them and put them back.” �ŚThere, you’ve said it,’ the little voice purred. �ŚNo going back now.’ Robert was silent for a few moments, before adding with hope in his eyes, �śThen, will we leave here forever?” �śNo! That would be the stupidest thing we could do. King was a rich man and rich people have many friends. If they suddenly go missing, questions are asked. Nobody cares about the poor, people like us, so nobody asks. That is a sad fact of life we can turn to our advantage for when we do disappear.” � ***� Hours later, daylight was vague and muted through the curtains as she asked, yawning, �śWhat do you want to eat?” �śI’m not hungry.” �śRubbish! You’re a growing boy. You must.” She dragged herself up, blinking away both sleep and the horrible dreams that had plagued her, while Robert looked wearily at the body again, and whispered, �śWe won’t go to Heaven now, will we?” He flinched as she gripped his forearms tightly and stared into his eyes. �śNow you jolly well listen to me! What’s done is done. It was a genuine accident, not murder. That is the difference, added to which, he was not here on some errand of mercy. He was threatening us and didn’t care one hoot who murdered his father, or what would become of us. If we know that, then come the day of reckoning, God will know it too, all right?” He nodded. She prepared them some bread and cheese, with milk to wash it down. Later she sent him down the garden to get the jemmy from the outside toilet that his father had used in the past to prize up the floorboards, to stash bootleg alcohol.� ***� The toilet backed onto their neighbour’s and he could hear old Mr Digweed, a grouchy, miserable character with a limp, the other side, cursing as he pulled the chain for about the eighth time, before walking out and slamming the door, which bounced back open with a juddering noise.Robert had enough sense to wait until he had made his way back down the path, before venturing out, taking the time to relieve himself while he waited. He didn’t bother pulling the chain, because theirs had never worked. His mother had always tipped a pail of water down at the end of every day, from the kitchen tap. He thought of his father as he made his way back, the jemmy concealed under his coat. He could see him very clearly in his mind’s eye, alone in his cell, or outside in the blazing sun, smashing up rocks.As he walked into the parlour and watched his mother pulling the needle from King’s back, the sight of the congealed blood on the metal made him feel sick. Revulsion swamped him in waves as she wiped it on King’s jacket, before going through his pockets� ***� Lil levered up the floorboards, cringing at the frightful squealing noise they were making, that was impossible to muffle. A foetid damp smell rolled up from the hole, and they heard squeaking, followed by the scamper of little feet.He was heavy, but raw fear was driving her. When King was finally laid to rest, with his bowler hat on his face, she was too nervous to pray over him, and thought it hypocritical anyway.The hardest part was putting the nails back, because although some went in with a push, others had to be tapped in, using the jemmy as a crude hammer. The noise seemed out of all proportion to the force used. When she had finished, her mind turned to the money once more, as she wondered what King’s intentions were for it, though she knew it hinted at dangerous discord. She was to find out what the very next day, when Robert ran home from school with a newspaper clutched in his hand. � � � � SeventeenShe felt her heart sink, seeing King, whose Christian name was Adam, staring back from the front page, and above him, the headline confirming he was on the run. It seemed his two uncles, one of whom must have been that ogre with the monocle who had evicted the Inkpens, were contesting his father’s will, insisting that much of the liquid assets of his estate were theirs. They had even posted a cash reward of one hundred pounds for information as to their nephew’s whereabouts. The ten thousand must have formed part of that estate. She could guess what had happened. With nobody else in the world he could trust, and with the high probability of these ruthless men winning a court case, the spectre of destitution would have been most unpalatable for him, after a life of ease, so he had taken what he could and run. Unsurprisingly, the article went on to the missing fob and that Adam King might have it in his possession. They desperately wanted this back too, for sentimental reasons. Doubting they could even define it, she laughed out loud. They were even offering a separate reward of one hundred pounds for its safe return. By now, suspecting there was more to the watch than just its value, she laid the paper down and said to Robert, �śGo and get it. We’ll have a closer look.” With the chain coiled in her palm, she studied the exterior of the watch, back and front, wondering if something significant might be engraved there, in numerals or letters so tiny, the unsuspecting would miss them. She had read an old book once, where such a ruse foiled a thief, but here, there was nothing. Once more, she opened it, and gazed at the inside of the cover. It was completely bare, save from a tiny hallmark. She looked at the white enamelled face, with its Roman numerals again, this time more closely. Nothing. She felt increasing despair, but without saying anything, Robert took it and depressed a tiny lever he had noticed below the face. It swung upwards on a sprung hinge. The workings were visible and engraved in the back were the numerals 7, 6, 2, 9 and beneath, the words �śCoutts & Co Strand.” They looked at each other puzzled, but then Lil whispered, �śOf course, it’s a bank. The number must be that of a safety deposit box.” �śWhat’s that?” �śA sort of safe, where rich people keep their valuables. So that’s what they’re after! There must be a fortune inside. There’s just one other thing though, and without it, the number is useless.” They both waited in silence for a few seconds, until Robert asked, �śWhat?” �śThe key. Safety deposit boxes need one to open them. He must have one, either on his person, or�Ś” �śThe bag!” he said and bolted back upstairs where the bag was hidden. When he returned, she tipped the money out in a heap and started groping around inside, guessing that if he’d had any sense, he would have concealed it beneath the silk lining. She couldn’t feel anything obvious. She deftly sliced it all out with a knife, but there was still no key. She was repulsed by the knowledge that she was going to have to lever those boards back up again to search Adam King’s body, even though she didn’t think he would be so stupid as to keep it in one of his pockets. Robert seemed to read her mind, as he said, �śIf I was him, I would have hidden it in the lining of my hat.” She patted him on the head and said, �śGood boy!” as her hand strayed instantly to the jemmy. Thinking of the noise it would make, she resisted the temptation. Bob had never removed the boards during the hours of darkness for that very reason. � ***� The next morning, the fa�żade of routine continued, as she insisted it should, with Robert going to school, while she kept the curtains shut, and got on with her fortune-telling. She was going to delay as much as she could touching a body that had been dead for more than a day. She imagined the cold waxy feel and the half-open eyes that would have started sinking back into his head. Later in the day, when no-one was around the street, she dreaded a knock at the door as she started pulling the floorboards, knowing this wouldn’t take long. At least the nails needed less effort this time. Why was her heart suddenly thudding? It was almost as though she had anticipated what she was going to see.� EighteenThere was nothing there. No body. No trace of King whatsoever. She found herself stumbling backwards, on her elbows, eyes bulging, flesh creeping in waves down her arms. She couldn’t breathe. �śThis is crazy!” she muttered. �śHe has to be here!” She made herself crawl back and peer into the hole once more, her nose wrinkling against the dank odour of rot, certain she would see him, certain her overstressed brain had been playing tricks. Her breathing came in rapid gasps. Her head was swimming. She had lifted the wrong board. It had to be that. Being tired, she couldn’t have been paying sufficient attention. She didn’t want to put her hand down there, because of this sudden feeling that if she did, his hand, cold and clammy, would close around hers and she would scream. When she had finally plucked up enough courage, she found there was nothing there at all, except dust, ancient rat droppings and the cold glass of a group of bottles that were part of a previous stash. It was impossible. Was she going mad? Had she really put him down there in the first place? And if she had�Ś was he dead? Was it possible he had woken up, crawled off somewhere and then expired for good? She was sitting in the armchair, staring at the hole in the floor, when she heard a knock on the door. She knew she had no choice but to sit outside telling those stupid fortunes. She quickly replaced the board, not daring to leave it as it was, and went through the charade of setting up her table, ball and chairs in the mud, from which a sickly sweet mist was rising, while Mrs O’Brien kept giving her nasty little looks from her door step as she scrubbed it. The minutes merged into hours as the pile of pennies slowly grew, though however hard she thought, she couldn’t make any sense of it. With no other explanation, she could only assume the rats had devoured him, though it was surely not possible in a single day, and besides, there would be evidence. At least some bones.It wasn’t until mid-afternoon, when she had just about given up and was beginning to wish for her old life back, when something happened that both explained the mystery and left her frightened all over again. � � � � � � � � � � � NineteenShe had never known a man wanting his fortune told, and of course, the one sitting in front of her didn’t. She didn’t like the look of him from the start, with his long black coat, pug nose and square shoulders. Examining the ball closely, he asked, �śDo people really believe in this codswallop?” �śYes, they do actually!” she snapped, anxious to justify herself, in spite of the truth. �śA lot of people around here are very poor and lonely. Some are also very ill. It gives them solace and hope.” �śYes, and you, a penny a time.” She was seething and about to order him on his way, when he produced, not a penny, but a key, which he held discreetly, dangling it gently in between his thumb and forefinger. She closed her eyes and forced herself to stay calm. �śYou know, don’t you? Though how�Ś” she whispered.He looked around, and seeing a few faces turning, asked, �śMay we go inside?” She stood, acutely aware that Mrs O’Brien had stopped scrubbing her step and was watching pointedly. A few curtains were stirring too. She was glad when the door clicked shut behind her. She stood with her back to it, as he said, �śMy name is Tom Bride. I’m a private investigator. I was hired by Sir Rupert and Alistair King to track down the only son of Mr Horace King, their nephew. I know you murdered him.”She opened her mouth to deny it, but felt she had reached a dead end. �śAll right. He was intimidating me, but it was an accident, I swear. He was a pig. He was frightening me, so I pushed�Ś” she stopped. �śGo on.” The mocking cynicism made her fume. �śWhy? What’s the point? You clearly don’t believe me.” Odd though, she thought. He hadn’t summoned the police, or told the King brothers, as he was surely duty bound to do. Then she realised he must have guessed, from the press coverage, that she had the fob. When she considered too that, apart from herself and Robert, only he could know Adam King was dead, a light began to dawn.Feeling more relaxed, she asked, �śSo, how did you get the key?” �śIt’s simple. Follow me and I’ll show you.” They walked the few paces to the house next door, from where the Inkpens had been evicted. She was glad that by now Mrs O’Brien had retreated back indoors, though there were still a few curtains moving.He unlocked the door and ushered her in, as he said, �śThis place was the ideal vantage point to watch your comings and goings.” He grabbed an oil lamp from the windowsill, struck a match on the wall, lit it, and closed the door. She staggered back, whimpering, pawing her mouth, thinking she might be sick. Propped against the opposite wall, head lolling on his chest, smothered in grime and blood, was Adam King. His bloated tongue hung from his mouth. Rats had nibbled his hands and face. His nose had been completely chewed off. Before him was a great hole in the floor, where the boards had been levered up. �śI watched from upstairs,” Bride told her, �śI saw him enter your home and heard raised voices. After a few hours had passed and he never emerged, I guessed what had happened. As I never saw any suspicious bundles being dragged from your back door, I put two and two together. In any case, I heard you levering up the floorboards. The recess runs the entire length of the block and all I had to do was crawl under, grab his ankles and pull him through to this side.” With her first inklings reinforced, she asked, gagging as she looked at the bites, �śAre you going to report your findings?” He chuckled to himself and his eyes twinkled. �śI think those poor fellows are distraught enough about their dear departed brother without me being the bearer of further sad tidings, don’t you?” �śSo�Ś what do want from me?” �śI assume you are in possession of a certain�Ś fob watch?” �śMight be.” �śI am offering you a two-way split for the information it holds.” She looked at him warily, fully aware this could be a trap, but knowing too that if it was true, he would not dare try to cheat her, nor her, him. It would be the perfect crime. �śAll right,” she said, �śbut what about him?” She nodded at the battered corpse. �śLeave him to me.”He allowed one eyelid to drop and she guessed he had more practised ways of getting rid of inconvenient dead bodies than she did. They made their way back once more, this time across the crumbling fence separating the two back yards, to dampen further suspicion from the street.� ***� They had only been indoors a minute or so when the door burst open and Robert came tearing in, heaving for breath, his face strained and anxious. It was nowhere near the end of the school day. He stopped abruptly, seeing Bride, who had been on the brink of running to the kitchen ’til he saw their visitor was a boy. �śWhat’s the matter?” asked Lil, kneeling to his level, her fear coming back in less than a second.The boys had been jostling him in the playground, after he had been branded both a �Ścreep’ and a �Śtraitor’ for what he had said in class about German domination of the seas. And he was forced by Mr Myers to write on the blackboard a hundred times, �śBritain rules the waves, not Germany!” �śI’ll never read your newspapers again!” he shouted in her face, wiping away his tears before running upstairs. � � � � Twenty�śI am expected back at the workhouse tomorrow at noon for an update, so we’ve got to act fast. The first thing we’ve got to do is change your appearances for the better, because people of your type do not use safety deposit boxes.” �śHow?” �śI will buy several sets of clothing, in different sizes to ensure the correct fit. I am staying at The Juniper Inn, not far from here, where you must meet me. When you leave, do so casually, as if going for a stroll. Do not change your clothes or alter your appearance substantially. People tend to notice and remember things like that. Make your way directly to the hotel. I am going to give you a map, you must not dispose of it under any circumstances, as it could lead the wrong people back to your address. You must give it to me. Understood?” �śAll right. Then what?” �śThen, when you are suitably attired, we will collect the contents of the box, split it down the middle and go our separate ways.” It sounded so simple. At the door, he fished in his pocket for a pen and drew a rough map on the corner of Lil’s newspaper. Tearing the corner off, he handed it over to her and said, �śWait an hour before you leave, so nobody watching will connect us.”Lil nodded and placed the piece of paper carefully on top of her knitting on the mantelpiece. � ***� Later, while they were eating a final meal, Lil realised that Bride would have a long wait in his hotel, as Robert held aloft the key to the safety deposit box. It had been lying amongst some dried out old flowers by the door, in the rubbish she had swept there after clearing up. �śBride must have dropped it when he had been fishing through his pocket,” she said giving him a tight hug. �śStill, it’s no great problem. We only need the map he had drawn to find our way to his hotel and all will be well.”Except it wasn’t where she had left it. She glanced around the room, and when she saw what had become of it, she shut her eyes, wondering if this nightmare would ever end. Its remains were by the wall below the mantelpiece, amongst her knitting, with a cluster of mice chewing it up and spitting it out into little grey lumps. She remembered a few strands of wool had been trailing down to the floor. They must have pulled it and the whole lot had come down. As she went to pick up what was left, the mice scattered, squeaking in fright. The remains were a tatty oblong, about one inch by three, with the single word, Street, still legible upon it to confirm her worst fears. Considering she had the key too, Bride could jump to the conclusion she had goaded Robert into picking his pocket.With no way of knowing what he might do if he returned, there was only one option left. � � � � Twenty-oneTom Bride stood in his hotel room, frustrated beyond belief, having searched every pocket, crease and fold in his clothes for what must have been the tenth time. He had also explored every inch of the room, including under the bed, and it was only as he finally sat on the edge of it that despair gave way to something else. Before this, he had been sitting in the lobby for the past two and a half hours, taking tea, secure in the knowledge that Lil had nothing to gain and everything to lose by not keeping to her side of the bargain. When she had still not showed up by the time it was getting dark, he was sure he had been made a monkey of. Seething, he left the hotel and started making his way back to the house. He was determined that when he got there, he would not only have the key and fob for himself, but also that the bent firm of undertakers he had used for getting rid of Adam King were going to have yet more business to attend to in the morning. Bride knew London like the back of his hand, and if he didn’t find them at home, he knew that he would be able to anticipate with a good deal of certainty what their next move would be.By now, he had suppressed his anger and embarrassment at having been so easily duped and was determined to be even with them. � ***� �śKeep your eyes peeled for him,” Lil said, knowing they would have to find a haven for the night. They passed the Dog and Duck and could hear a bunch of drinkers singing as they passed. As they turned into the main road, her mind was racing, knowing the first hotel they came to would have to do. Bride had taught her the value of concealment and tomorrow, clean and scrubbed, they would visit two of those shops she had only ever dreamed about, a good tailor and a milliner too, for the further disguise a hat would offer. They would also have to change the Gladstone bag for another, as it would look singularly out of place carried by a lady of refinement. Only then would they visit the bank, since it was possible Bride could be waiting for them, as he might have prior knowledge from Sir Rupert which bank his brother had used. �śWhere are we, Mum?” asked Robert in a small, rather scared voice. �śI don’t know,” Lil admitted. She was now so confused after having panicked that she would never find her way home, even if she wanted to. She also knew that perhaps they would have been able to reassure Bride that foul play was not their intention after all. She also tried to silence the unworthy little voice that kept telling her they were on the plus side of this faux pas, with both the fob and the key in their possession. Another, more laudable, voice told her that as Bride had been out solely to cheat the people who were trusting him anyway, he deserved no better and may have been intending to double cross her too. They heard the rumble of a train nearby and could smell its chimneystack. Its whistle piped stridently. When the tables were turned, it happened so suddenly she barely noticed, until she heard a muffled �śMmmmmppphhh!” sound and saw that Robert had disappeared. The noise was coming from a dark alley between two buildings. Trembling, she walked slowly into it, stepping over a mouldering dead cat, not daring to make any sudden moves. As her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, she made out a hand clamped over Robert’s mouth and a penknife held to his neck. The face was hidden in the shadows. Her heart pounded, as a voice, cracking with rage, hissed, �śDo as I say and no harm will befall him.” Feeling oddly relieved that it was Bride’s voice, she said, �śThere’s been a misunderstanding.” �śYes. Me being such an idiot to think I could trust you. This little bastard took the key from my pocket at your bidding, didn’t he?” �śNo!” �śDidn’t he?” he shouted. He held the boy even tighter and pressed the blade harder into his neck. Robert started to whimper. His eyes were wide with terror, as the honed steel incised his skin. Lil knew that Bride had labelled them as incorrigible thieves without question, so she changed tactic. �śHe was disciplined. On that score, you have my word. I can assure you he will never do anything as stupid again. If you only knew the sort of life the poor little�Ś” �śNo good pluckin’ the violin, lady. You should’ve taken a belt to him before. Now give me the key and the fob and clear off. I’ll take the bag too.” He pulled the boy tighter still and the knife drew a bead of blood. She saw there was nothing to be gained by prolonging the issue, so she reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled the items out. She felt sick as she held them out at arm’s length. �śPut them in the bag. Then close it and put it on the ground. Don’t try anything or he’ll end up down this alley with all the other shit.” She opened the bag and was about to do as he had told her when she heard a howl of pain and glanced up in time to see Bride doubling up from the impact of Robert’s elbow, which had scored a bull’s eye in his testicles. As he went down, dropping the knife, Robert ran forward, grabbing the fob as it fell and tore up the road with his mother clutching the bag to her chest in full pursuit. He darted in and out of the crowd, many of whom assumed he was a pickpocket, his lean legs pumping like pistons. Lil called out to him, ignoring the curious stares as she ran, her petticoats held in handfuls at the level of her knees. There was a copper taste of blood in the back of her throat when she finally caught up with him. It took her a few minutes to get her breath back and for her heart to stop galloping. They were in Piccadilly Circus. Robert had ducked into the dark doorway of a greengrocer, and although panting, he looked triumphant too, as he held up the fob. He was grinning. �śAre�Ś are you hurt?” she gasped, as she bent with her hands on her knees, wincing against the pain of a stitch. She wiped sweat from her forehead with her sleeve. He shook his head slowly from side to side. She could see the nick on his skin made by Bride’s knife, although it didn’t look serious. Then she remembered he must be on their tail somewhere. She gingerly poked her head out from the doorway and peered in both directions through the mill of people, but for now could see no sign of him. �śShall we go back and get it?” Robert asked, after they had turned their pockets out for the umpteenth time in search for the key. �śNo, he might be waiting for us.” �śSo what should we do?”She closed her eyes briefly as she admitted, �śI don’t know. Yet.”She knew that if they went to the bank and claimed they had lost it, they would probably demand some form of identification and might even summon the police when she failed to show any.She knew it was possible that Bride had picked it up, but if so, how were they to take it from him, without him knowing?� � � � � � Twenty-twoAt that moment, Bride didn’t care about anything. He was still stuck in that squalid alley, curled up in a sweat-drenched ball, with veins popping out on his forehead. Tears squirted from his eyes as he clutched his crushed testicles, knowing it was touch and go whether or not he threw up. To compound his misery, he had rolled in the dead cat and much of it was splattered up his legs and midriff like grey-brown jelly, with clumps of dirty, matted fur smeared upon it here and there. He felt sick as he saw the tail dangling from his knee and plucked it off, throwing it away.The stench was terrible.As the agony slowly ebbed, a firm resolution began to take hold in his head. He was not going to rest ever again until he got hold of that little weasel and broke his neck with his bare hands.Groaning, he saw something glint a yard from his watering eyes. As the pain had now diminished enough for him to relinquish at least one hand from his injured manhood, he was able to reach out and pick it up. He shook off some foul looking muck and grinned. All right, they had the fob and the Gladstone bag, but he had the key once more. They would never get the contents of that box without it and he knew they couldn’t acquire a duplicate. So all was not lost after all.He dragged himself up, feeling his gorge rise, seeing the semi-liquefied cat covering him from the waist down and an hour later, as he sat with a whisky and soda in his room, after a hot, deep bath, he began to consider how he was going to obtain that fob watch. The only way to locate them, he thought, would be by obtaining the name and location of the bank from the King brothers, for he was sure she would make her way there eventually. As they had been so certain their nephew would turn up in Rice Lane, they had not given him any other information, but Bride grinned to himself as he lit a cigar, knowing exactly how to wheedle it out of them, without, he was sure, arousing the tiniest hint of suspicion.� � Twenty-threeThe next morning, a determined Lil Smith took her son to a ladies’ and gentlemen’s outfitters, Bryant & Sons Bespoke Tailors, in Chelsea, where the proprietor looked at them over his half-moon spectacles as though they were flies crawling along a piece of excrement. His valued regular clients were pausing in their browsing to look too, nudging each other and whispering. One, an elderly dowager, even held her stick-mounted glasses to her eyes to get a better look, her mouth open in horror.Mr Bryant was a small, plump, soberly dressed man, bald headed, who looked as though he might bounce back up if somebody knocked him over. A tape measure hung about his neck. He eyed them for some time with growing disgust before he spoke. �śExcuse me, madam, if you please!” He inclined his head towards the door. �śIt grieves me to tell you that you have entered the wrong establishment.” Mr Bryant was looking around embarrassed, and at the skinny urchin in particular with some disquiet. He looked as though he might have vitamin deficiency and there was a scratch on his neck where he was bound to have been in a fight. It looked as though the woman had at least endeavoured to bathe him, but still, that odour, characteristic to such people, came through. One of his assistants craned his neck to get a better look, so Bryant clapped his hands and snapped, �śAhem! Jones, kindly attend to Lady Devonshire. I will attend to these people,” and then, in a slightly lower voice, �ślook, what do you want? We are a very high class purveyor of�Ś” His words trailed off as he caught a glimpse of the slim wad of pound notes she had clearly meant him to see. He began to sweat. There had to be upwards of fifty pounds, more than he could expect to take in a week. He took his tape measure from his neck and mustered up a sycophantic smile.� ***� Tom Bride came to a halt before the raised plinth in the Board Room of Marylebone Workhouse. By Sir Rupert’s design, only he and Alistair were here and Bride launched straight into his report, having had plenty of time to doctor it to his own ends. �śI occupied the house next door to the one where your brother was murdered by that ruffian, for two nights.” �śAnd?” �śYour nephew never showed up.” Their faces dropped. �śIt is of course, possible he has already absconded, perhaps even left the country for good.” A look of horror spread across their faces and Sir Rupert’s brother spoke. �śBut all the ports are under scwutiny and there is a substantial weward for his appwehension.” �śPerhaps,” he told them, �śbut I doubt it would have been beyond the man’s ingenuity to disguise himself. He was not, by all accounts, yours included, stupid. If I am to stand any chance at all of apprehending him, I will require a list of banks and other financial institutions he uses. Also a list of known friends, associates, both business and pleasure, acquaintances, enemies too, and any gentlemen’s clubs he has membership of.” They spent the next half hour compiling this farcical list, and one of the entries made Bride’s heart skip a beat when it was mentioned, because he knew he’d coaxed from them exactly what he wanted. The Strand branch of Coutts & Co Bank. In next to no time, Tom Bride was trotting down the long driveway to that hideous workhouse, so excited, he had almost forgotten the pain he was in. They wanted to see him in three days’ time for an update and had stressed again, in carefully worded phrases, that they couldn’t care less how he accomplished his mission, or how much discomfort might have to be solicited from their nephew to that end. He nearly laughed out loud. If all went to plan, they would never see hide nor hair of him again. In any case, he couldn’t bear another ogling from Alistair King. There was no time to waste, so he strode off quickly, with Sir Rupert’s eyes tracking him from the window of his study.� � � � � � Twenty-fourWhen Lil and Robert stepped out of Bryant & Sons Bespoke Tailors, they were, for all the world, two entirely different people. Now, they blended more effectively with the refinement surrounding them. She had made several other purchases too, a small striped suitcase and a large alligator skin handbag, for carrying the valuables from both the Gladstone bag and the safety deposit box, when or if they acquired access to it.After this, they made their way to Mrs Swinglehurst’s Hatters Emporium, where they were greeted effusively by Mrs Swinglehurst herself, the jolliest and fattest lady Robert had ever seen. Lil chose a broad, burgundy velvet hat trimmed with green feathers. They also visited a jeweller’s, where she purchased a gold bar brooch, flanked with leaves and pearls and a slim gold wristwatch, encrusted with tiny diamonds. Lil was getting jittery as they made their way to the Strand. She knew Bride might be on their tail and that, even though they were disguised, he would have an eye trained to look beneath any veneer.When they arrived at the bank, where she had been considering trying to bluff her way through, they saw a massive clock celebrating the diamond jubilee of Queen Victoria over the granite portals. She had never been in a bank in her life. As she stood there, dithering, Bride was watching from much closer than they would have imagined. He was leaning against a lamppost, pretending to read a newspaper, as he peered over the top periodically. Having already guessed her intention to try and sham her way, he could see her hesitating. He noticed though, that while the boy carried a small suitcase, the woman toted a large handbag, in which she clearly intended putting the valuables if she succeeded. He grinned with relief when she finally wandered off, trembling with nerves, not knowing that he too was being watched by other eyes from not so very far away. � ***� As soon as he had left the workhouse, Sir Rupert had voiced his suspicion that Bride might not be quite as dedicated to their cause as he seemed. He simply could not believe their nephew would fail to show up at that address. Was it possible he already had the safe key, and only needed the name of the bank, the piece of information they had been so easily duped into parting with? Alistair had been oblivious to this rather unsettling possibility before his brother had mentioned it. To deepen the mystery further, he pointed out that Bride would still need the safe’s number and only the missing fob could supply that, which he clearly did not have, otherwise he would not have needed to get the name of the bank from them. Now though, having followed him all the way there, where he had been convinced he would go inside, Sir Rupert King was relieved to see that instead, Bride was loitering outside, appearing to watch a well-to-do woman and child. He watched as Bride tucked the newspaper under his arm, before taking off after them. Then he followed himself. As King kept pace through the throng of people, he saw Bride flinch several times, as if he knew by instinct the woman would turn. He was in a sweat by the time he saw them disappear into one of the cheaper hotels in Piccadilly, one not in keeping with her apparent station, thus deepening the mystery further. Keeping back as far as possible, he watched to see if Bride would follow her in, but he didn’t. He saw him grin to himself and couldn’t for the life of him fathom out what was going on.He saw Bride look up at the hotel, as if taking note of its name. He turned suddenly and it was only by a hair’s breadth that Bride didn’t spot him as he ducked into a fruit merchant’s. When he had passed, King found himself fighting past a match girl and a gaggle of scamps who had followed him in. By the time he had made his way back to the pavement, Bride was gone, swallowed up in the throng, with a huge horse-drawn cart packed with suffragettes obscuring his view further. He stood there frustrated, panting, as he hunted through the sea of shouting faces, hats and banners, but Bride was nowhere to be seen. Shaking, King made his way to the hotel, but checked himself at the last moment from going inside. He realised that if they were all involved in a scam to fleece him, they may have seen pictures of him, with a warning to be on the look out. If they saw him now, they might sense the game was up and if that happened, there was no telling what they might do. He wandered back to the workhouse, confused and getting lost several times. He would later find his wallet had been lifted, but that was as nothing to his sense of foreboding, as he sat in his study, smoking a cigar and sipping a glass of whisky.Who were these strange people? Where did his nephew fit into all of this and where was he? Why was a child involved, unless he served no other purpose than as a front? He sat there for the next hour, hoping against all his instincts that everything was more above board than it seemed, because for once in his life, he felt out of his depth.� � � Twenty-five �śHow are we going to get that key?” Robert asked later, as they lay in the same bed. Lil stared at the ceiling, having thought about that and nothing else for hours on end. She knew that after today’s ordeal outside the bank, where she had completely lost her nerve, they would have to get it back by more devious means. �śWe’ll set a trap for him.” �śWhat sort of trap?” She told him, and as he listened, he found his mouth gaping.� ***� Blissfully ignorant of what she had in store for him, Bride had also thought his plan through carefully, though he needed to know the number of the room she was staying in. Asking directly for it at Reception was out of the question. A more subtle way was needed, so when morning came, he made his way back to her hotel, dressed rather differently, in garb he had bought from a pawnshop. It was an old suit, abysmally threadbare, with a shabby bowler hat, and shoes that were falling to bits. He had not washed, or had a shave either, so he guessed he smelt a little ripe. He knew there must be no mistakes or hiccups, or it would all be over. Worse still, he could end up in prison for a very long time. When he made his way into the lobby, it was mainly to see the lie of the land; to note where the stairs, exits and entrances were and roughly how many people worked there. All of this was vitally important in the event of something unforeseen happening, so he could run if he had to. He saw a stern-looking man, who he guessed to be in his fifties, and probably the owner, standing behind the reception desk, writing in a ledger. Bride knew if he approached him with what he had in mind, he might see straight through him, so he stayed back in the shadows, watching the other members of staff as they came and went, as he pretended to look at a wall painting. To stay too long would look suspicious, but after a few minutes he saw what he had hoped. A boy of about seventeen joined the older man and the rancour between them was obvious. He looked as though he had been a walking punch bag at school, lanky with rosy cheeks, which were peppered here and there with red spots, and a nervous tic in his left eye. He was safely on the other side of the road as he saw the two people he was after emerge. They looked happy and contented, with not a care in the world. This left him more mystified and irritated than ever. He quickly reasoned that no bags meant they hadn’t checked out yet, so time to move quickly. ***� Sir Rupert King had surmised a lot too, as he stood in the Boys Canteen in the workhouse beneath a fading slogan on the wall, informing them that �śGod loves the meek and the thrifty”. There were about two hundred inmates here, ranging in age from six to fifteen; among them the four Inkpen boys, whose heads had been shaved and painted with iodine in varying hues of mauve and brown, to fight a ringworm infection. They sported various dressings too, where boils had been pricked. They stood with everybody else in the long queue for lunch, cold and miserable, as thin Mrs Scantleberry slopped tepid gruel into their outstretched bowls. Mr Flint stood by her side, his unblinking eyes missing nothing.The silence was absolute, apart from the rumbling of many bellies and Mrs Scantleberry’s continuous coughing. When they were all finally seated, heads bowed, Mr Flint prayed.Sir Rupert had his mind on other, less virtuous things than paying heed to the Good Lord though. He was sure the woman he had seen had stolen the money to pay for the clothes they wore. The fact that Bride was watching the fine lady and her son suggested they had something to do with his nephew and that something untoward, or even perilous, may have happened to him. That was the main reason for him being here. He needed the help of Mr Belcher, both to secure the truth from their devious private detective and possibly even locate his thieving nephew, and he didn’t care a jot how he did it.He stood next to his brother, scrutinising the proceedings, his other concern being that he was determined to reduce the running costs. He had half an eye on the depth of the thin greasy soup, that was routinely tested with a ruler to be sure it was no more than the inch and a quarter in depth they had agreed upon. He was intrigued though, as to why, when Flint bade them all be seated, one boy had the impertinence to remain standing, arms folded, not touching his food, whilst staring pointedly at the ceiling. He was aware too of a change in his brother’s breathing as he ogled him. Although he found certain of Alistair’s predilections disturbing, to say the least, he had to admit the boy was a fine strapping lad, built up by nearly six months of rock breaking. For specimens such as this, Alistair had a little room upstairs, containing a specially adapted desk, with straps for ankles, wrists, elbows and knees, and a gag for the mouth; into which the boy of his choice was bent over, naked and restrained, while he took his time to undress. As they stood watching their charges, spoons at the ready, they waited for Mr Flint to utter, �śBegin,” before Sir Rupert fixed him with a glare. He wandered over, looping his cane over his arm.Sir Rupert hissed, �śFor what reason, Mr Flint, is that boy not sitting or eating?” �śHe has stiffly refused to, Sir. He claims the food is inedible. Utter nonsense of course!” �śYou beat him, I hope?” �śIndeed, Sir, in my study, with a will, but sadly, still to no avail. Some nuts, I regret to say, are tougher than others to crack.” Sir Rupert’s lips thinned, his monocle dropped and swung back and forth across his chest, as he growled, white-faced with rage, �śThen thrash him yet again, this time before the assembled gathering, so they may profit by his error. Please proceed.” They watched the flogging and listened to the screams and begs for mercy; Sir Rupert, as always, morbidly fascinated, his brother ogling the bare writhing cheeks, and savouring the thwick, thwick, thwick of the whippy rattan, with his tongue almost hanging out and a bulge in his trousers. The children’s faces, the Inkpens’ in particular, were sickly shades of white and green, with tears running down them. They knew this could so easily happen to them, if they too whined about the nauseating muck they had forced down, thereby establishing, without waste of breath, the deterrent. When it had finished, and the boy had eaten the �Śgood tack’, by now stone cold, while tears streamed down his face, Alistair King told Mr Flint, a little hoarsely, �śI want him taken to my woom.” �śImmediately, Sir?” said Mr Flint, obvious shock spread on his face. �śYes,” Alistair told him, �świght away.” � ***� Tom Bride was in luck as he went inside. The boy was standing at the reception desk, writing in the ledger, but Bride loitered in the shadows to be sure the father wasn’t about to appear from nowhere. He was pretending to admire another oil painting and was soon sure he was alone, so he approached the boy with the most righteous look he could muster. �śCan I help you, Sir?” the boy almost stuttered. �śYes,” Bride told him, as he removed his hat. He pulled a pound note from his trouser pocket. �śI was passing by a couple of hours ago, on my way to the soup kitchen, and I saw a rather well-to-do lady walk out of your front door. She had a little boy with her. I saw her drop this.” He proffered the note humbly and added, �śI followed her for about a mile, trying my best to keep up, but with this wound I received at Ladysmith�Ś well, the pain became too much for me, so I decided it would be best to wait until now, when she might be back and hopefully meet her here, to give it to her.” �śThank you for being so honest. If you give it to me, I’ll see she gets it back.”The boy smiled reassuringly and Bride replied, looking suitably embarrassed, �śI’d much rather give it to her in person�Ś if you don’t mind.” He hoped he was right in predicting the boy’s reaction and he was. For a moment he said nothing, as Bride could see his mind working. �śI have no idea when she will return,” he told him, �śbut you are welcome to wait in the lobby.” Bride replaced his hat and lowered his gaze. �śYou are most kind, but I cannot wait. I have to return home to my son. He is ill, and�Ś” It was all too much. It took him several moments to find his voice again, as he mastered himself. �śIf you have an envelope,” he said quietly, giving the impression he’d rather not talk about it, �śthen I can put the money inside and slip it under her door�Ś if of course, you have no objection to me popping upstairs to do it.” For the first time the tiniest hint of suspicion crossed the boy’s face. Bride knew he might not be quite as green as he seemed, as he replied, guardedly, �śYes, you may, but I’m afraid I will have to accompany you.” Bride nodded, to show he understood, as the boy passed him an envelope. It didn’t matter whether he followed him or not. He even embellished his charade, by feigning illiteracy, when the boy asked, �śIs there anything you would like to write on it?” Bride dictated a few sincere lines, and as the boy plied his pen, Bride was sure he had never seen such selflessness in his life. � Twenty-sixSir Rupert King stood at the far end of the stone-breaking yard, where the noise was interrupted, not by talk, which was expressly forbidden, but by the crack of the iron hammers as they broke the brick-sized lumps of flint.Next to each man was the iron plate with the regulation-sized hole, through which each stone had to go and a large wicker basket the other side to catch them. The produce would be sold to road builders.King had been watching Mr Belcher, smoking a cigar as he thought. Belcher was walking steadily along the rows of men and older boys, of whom there were about eighty. Amongst them, Mr Inkpen, whose right arm, more accustomed to lifting an ale glass, moved as though it was filled with lead.Belcher carried a broad belt of thick hide, with which he could easily raise a half inch purple welt, as Mr Inkpen had quickly found to his cost. Sir Rupert’s study was close by, and it often amused him to hear the occasional slap and the shriek of pain, as he attended to his correspondence. It helped to break the monotony.As Belcher drew closer, he could see the scores of white scars that covered his face, neck and hands, from past fights and the odd sliver of flint flying off like glass, inflicting small cuts here and there. Mr Belcher was six foot five, weighed eighteen stone, all muscle, and had absolutely no concept of either sentiment or fear. As a boy, they had repeatedly flogged him to curb his insolence. When that hadn’t worked, they had locked him in the refractory cell, next to the mortuary, for days on end on a diet of bread and water, and even that had served only to drive the devil in. As he had grown, his diet got significantly better, as he took the role of an overseer himself. That’s also because fewer of the overseers had had the courage to tackle him, knowing that to do so was a sure ticket to a broken jaw. However, he had become steadily institutionalised, his Achilles heel. For all his toughness, Sir Rupert King knew that Mr Belcher wouldn’t last two minutes in the outside world. By the time he was so big and strong that nobody dared order him about, there was a clamouring to eject him once and for all. Sir Rupert, though had recognised that, aside from the fact that he was an almost indispensable overseer himself by now, also knew he would be useful in other areas too, such as rent collecting. The relief to the men, and Mr Inkpen in particular, was visible when Sir Rupert beckoned him over. � ***� A mile or so away, Lil had other things on her mind as she made her way back to the hotel. In a low voice, she was telling Robert what to do, pressing upon him, for the umpteenth time, that his aim must be absolutely right and that he must exert as much force as possible. She carried a brown paper bag with all the necessary accoutrements for the successful execution of her plan, knowing this infernal man would be out of the equation once and for all if all went to plan. �śBut what if he doesn’t turn up?” �śHe will, because he must. He knows he will never see the contents of that box unless he tries to steal the fob from us.” Robert’s mouth froze as he saw an envelope on the floor, as she opened the door into their room. He picked it up and Lil took it from him and felt her heart skip a beat as she read the message written across it.You never know when you may need this. A mutual friend.She pulled out the pound note, certain this was his way of telling her he knew exactly where she was and that he fully intended wresting the fob from her. She smiled. It was going well so far. � ***� Bride had dumped his disguise, because it was making him itch. Now, dressed more casually, so as not to attract attention, he had made a couple of circuits of the hotel, looking for its weak spots, with the number 49 lodged in his brain. He would make his move at about three in the morning, when he was sure they would be asleep. From his vantage point at the top of a tall wall, in the alley at the rear of the three-storey building, he saw a flight of metal steps to the top floor that formed the fire escape and recognised the obvious means of getting inside. The sash windows might or might not be locked. A ledge ran the length of the building, beneath each row, though getting in that way would be a last resort. The only snag was, his left shoe had a squeak. In the dead of night, it would be amplified beyond belief, so he would have to remove his shoes before breaking in.He had known how to pick locks before he was nine. He studied the base of the stairs, where there appeared to be nothing to prevent unwanted persons gaining access to them. He was convinced the whole exercise was going to be a cinch, and thinking again of the rewards at the end of it, he licked his lips.� � � � � � � � � � � � � � Twenty-sevenMr Belcher looked woefully out of place, sat as he was in the Guvnor’s study amid oak panelling and fine furniture, sipping eighteen-year-old Laphroaig whisky from a crystal glass. He studied the two photographs he had been given, drinking in the details, noting mostly the slightly squashed nose of one of the men it depicted, whose name was Tom Bride. Belcher had been told by Sir Rupert that he was sure Bride had on his person, or hidden nearby, either a fob watch or a key. Sir Rupert wanted that item back, and secondly, he wanted to know where the other was likely to be, even if securing the information meant half-killing him. The other picture showed a man in his early to mid-thirties, who looked refined and well to do. His name was Adam King, Sir Rupert’s nephew, who might, with the further application of a little violence, also give him some valuable information concerning the missing items. If he succeeded in recovering them, he would get fifty pounds an item, an unheard-of fortune. The only drawback for King was that, although Belcher was one of the most terrifying people he had ever known, he wasn’t as stupid as people assumed. When he had asked if the key opened a safe, King had been forced to admit that it did. To make matters worse, he needed to know the name and location of the bank, and the hotel the woman and child were staying in. To safeguard his own interests as far as possible, therefore, Sir Rupert had assured him the safe merely contained a few legal documents, which, although vital to him, were worth nothing to a third party. He could only hope and pray he wouldn’t have enough savvy to open the fob, if he acquired it, and thereby see the box number. He felt a little more relieved when Belcher said, �śAll right, I’ll do it, but I want an ’undred per item,” as that meant, at least for now, that he hadn’t thought any further. After looking suitably appalled at such mercenary terms, and rebuking him for being so greedy, Sir Rupert said, �śVery well, but I want results. Clear?” Belcher nodded and put the photos in his jacket pocket as he left.� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � Twenty-eightMany hours later, Tom Bride had removed his shoes earlier than intended, the very moment, in fact, after taking the first rung of the fire escape, for it made a sonorous clang, reverberating the whole length of stairs for the next ten seconds. He had darted back in the shadows with his heart thudding, convinced somebody must have heard it. He had left his own hotel at three-thirty, dodging the bobbies on their beats, as he made his way here, because if anything went wrong, although nothing could go wrong, he kept telling himself, then at least they wouldn’t have an image of him to draw upon later. When he had finally got his jangly nerves under control, he tied the laces of the shoes together and hung them around his neck. As his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, he could just make out the wall he had scaled to get here, which had been no easy obstacle either, though there had at least been the screeching of two tomcats nearby to mask any sound he made. He made his way carefully up the stairs, ready for anything else that might lie ahead of him. When he got to the top, he was confronted by a solid door, with no glass to peep through, so he had no choice other than to hope nobody stood on the other side when he opened it. This was the worst part, as there was no way of masking the noise, as he inserted the specially made tools he always carried, as he twisted and turned them, to flick the tumblers inside. He was sweating by the time he heard and felt the tell-tale sudden movements, to indicate success.As he pushed the door gently open and stepped inside, he had a fleeting vision of being confronted by the owner, with a loaded blunderbuss. There was nobody there. Once inside, he left the door slightly open, so he wouldn’t have to fumble later. He made his way slowly along the corridor, knowing that however much he strained his eyes, there wouldn’t be enough light to work by, so it would have to be the window or nothing. He counted the doors as he went, knowing he would have to correspondingly count the same number of windows when he got outside. He hoped they weren’t locked. When he got to the end, he saw the corridor branched off to the left, where it came to a dead end, though there was another sash window, overlooking the road. He was relieved to find it rolled up with very little noise.After checking there were no bobbies or insomniacs below, he climbed out onto the ledge, noting to his dismay that it was no more than eight inches wide. He wondered if he should put his shoes back on, but the hush was so complete, the squeak might be heard for dozens of yards. He was tempted to climb back inside, but thought once more of the fob, and the box number, and the riches it would bring, so he carefully tested it with his weight, to be sure it wasn’t likely to crumble. With his face side-on to the brick wall, the shoes pressing painfully into his chest, and both arms out by his sides, he began inching his way along, knowing if he stumbled once, it would be the end. It seemed to take forever before he reached even the first window and there were another four to go. He rested every so often and could feel his socks rapidly fraying. Another twenty minutes before he reached the window he wanted. By then, his neck, head and arms were aching mercilessly. He lowered them carefully to his sides, as he saw a vague reflection of himself in the glass. Then he heard footsteps. They were vague at first. He had even thought them the beat of his own heart, until they began to echo between the buildings. They were coming from somewhere behind and he had to painfully twist his neck so he could see who it was. As the steps got louder, he heard the sound of cheerful whistling too. Through his peripheral vision, he saw a cop walking along the pavement on the other side of the street, swinging his truncheon in circles on its string. Spread against the whitewash of the hotel, he couldn’t possibly miss him. When the whistling stopped, Bride shut his eyes tight and held his breath for a long time. Then he heard a match being struck and knew the cop had simply paused to light a cigarette. It was so quiet, he even heard the impact of the match as it was dropped, and then the footsteps re-started. By the time they had faded into the distance, Bride was running with sweat and had to wait a few minutes for his heart to stop pounding. Lifting the window from the outside was much harder, as there was nothing to grip, except the thin strips of wood separating each of the nine panes. It slowly began to roll up with a low-pitched squeak, which during daylight hours nobody would notice. Now it grated on his ears. The cop was too distant by now to worry about, but if they were only semi-conscious inside, they would certainly hear it and wake up properly, so he was forced to proceed at a snail’s pace. The window came to a halt after two feet, which was about a foot lower than the one in the hallway. It wouldn’t be a problem if he had room to stand back and align himself, but he hadn’t. Cursing, he exerted a little more force, but there was no way it was going to budge. The last thing he wanted was for it to fly up suddenly and make a din. It was this, or go without. He crouched down as much as he was able, which wasn’t far, because his knees were butting into the wall, making further descent impossible. By now the pain in his thighs and back was unbearable. The bottom rail was level with his stomach and there was only one way he could see of getting inside. He gripped the bottom of the sash in both hands, leaned out as far as he dared, and swung his right leg up and through, careful as he did so not to disturb the curtains. It all became easier now, as he was able to sit on the windowsill. He waited a minute to get his breath back, before ducking and swinging first his head and torso under and then a leg. He was in. As he stood, taking his shoes from around his neck, he thought what his next move would be. The most likely place to find the fob would be in the handbag. If not, he would have to start searching their pockets. He laid his shoes on the floor and was grinning as he took a little step to the right, to where the curtains were drawn, when a mousetrap snapped on the three smallest toes of his right foot. The thucking sound was amplified, as it diffused through the skin, flesh and bone into the floorboards below. How he managed not to scream out, he would never know. He took a shuffling step backwards, hot tears in his eyes, trying his best to keep the noise to a minimum and not to tumble backwards through the open window. The trap wagged in the air like a waving hand. He was almost crying as he sat once more on the sill and took the trap in both hands, to carefully release the tension on the spring. He pulled the wet sock off, delicately, wincing as strands of thread, that had become imbedded in the cuts, were tugged free. Now, as the pain ebbed and flowed, he knew, as he felt a roll of damp skin dangling from his smallest toe, that he was going to get that fob. If they woke up, he would punch them unconscious and not give the slightest fuck if he killed them. Tearful, he reached down and gently ran his fingers over the floorboards, feeling either side for about two feet, to check for any more nasty surprises. There was nothing, so he lowered his feet to them again, and found he was barely able to exert his full weight on the injured one.Trying his best to ignore the pain, he slowly parted the curtains and tuned his ears and eyes into the darkness beyond, knowing she might have placed the handbag on the dressing table and that their clothes were likely to be draped over the back of a chair. He advanced gingerly into the room, just able to discern the foot of the bed and two vague humps lying in it, side by side. He could hear low, shallow breathing and was about to hobble over to the dressing table, when the woman’s voice snapped, �śNow!” and a loud metallic clang! echoed around the room. He felt a frightful pain in his head, saw an explosion of stars in front of his eyes and a match being struck. He passed out, just as it touched the wick of a candle.When he came to, he was sitting in a chair and saw the brat smiling, as he held aloft the key to the safety deposit box in one hand, where they’d frisked him, and the fob in the other. He closed his eyes to blot them out. Loop after loop of rope was wound around both his midriff and the chair he sat upon. His legs were tied too, one to each leg. His wrists were bound behind that and there was a sock stuffed in his mouth. The brat was smiling, as he asked impatiently, �śShall we go now?” �śIn a minute,” she said, picking up the suitcase and handbag. She clicked it open and Bride’s eyes were suddenly filled with terror at what she might bring out. He tried to shout through the sock. Instead, he sagged with relief, when she produced two-inch thick sheaves of pound notes, and for a moment forgot the pickle he was in. He had never seen so much money in his life, but that begged the question, as she reached out and placed them on the foot of the bed, if she could afford to give him that much, how much more was there? �śTwo hundred pounds, Mr Bride, to show there are no hard feelings.” She picked up her hat and placed it on her head, turning briefly to adjust it in the dressing table mirror. �śI wish I could trust you, but I have the lad to consider. He’s had a tougher time in his short life than most, and I beg of you not to think too badly of him. Whatever that box contains might seem a lot, but in today’s uncertain world�Ś” She laughed. �śWho knows. There might not be anything at all.” He tried to talk through the sock and at least try and reason with her. When that failed, he tried to spit it out, but to no avail. Then his heart sank as they picked up all their gear and left.� ***� Lil closed the door carefully, having visions of the hotel’s owner suddenly appearing, demanding to know what she was up to. It was quite absurd, in view of the fortune she was intending to steal, that she could be prosecuted for evading a hotel bill that would probably come to no more than a pound. She had told Robert they would leave via the fire escape. She stepped out and her solid block-heeled shoe sent out a long jarring note that made her jump. She was so unready for it, panic almost engulfed her. Her hand was on Robert’s, to whip him out and run down, but she mastered herself and quickly unlaced her shoes, whispering to him to do the same. � ***� A couple of minutes later, as she stepped outside, Tom Bride had managed to grip, between finger and thumb, the loose end of the rope that held his wrists. There was, he knew, always a loose end dangling within reach somewhere. Once you had hold of it, half the battle was won. He knew he still had a chance, one that had eluded him while in pain, and filled with nothing but hate and bloody vengeance. He knew they had no choice but to wait until nine o’clock, because that was when the bank opened, and he was determined to be there, with a threat to blow the whistle if they refused to co-operate. Soon he had a full inch to pull on and grinned to himself with his eyes on that two-inch stack of wealth on the mattress.� Twenty-nineAs dawn was breaking, Belcher was loitering, hands in pockets, on the other side of the road to the hotel the Guvnor had told him about. Unable to blot from his mind’s eye all that money he would get, he had not slept at all. He had spent the early hours looking at the crucifix mounted on the wall of his sparse room, where Jesus, his only real friend, looked down upon him. He was wondering what the link could be between a fob watch and a safe key, for they had to be linked somehow. There had been sheer desperation in the Guvnor’s voice, though he had tried to conceal it. He had a suspicion that even if he had haggled up to a thousand pounds reward, the Guvnor would have agreed. He had admitted the key opened a safe, and Belcher didn’t for one minute believe it contained documents. Belcher was no less determined to escape now than as a child.He had still arrived at no answers, when, just after seven, he saw a very dishevelled man appear from the alley between the hotel itself and the building the other side. He was limping too. When Belcher looked at the photo of the man with the flat nose, he knew at one glance it was him.� ***� Robert was becoming increasingly nervous. They sat in the same eating house as yesterday, in Chelsea, breakfasting on grilled kippers, poached eggs and toast, washed down with Darjeeling tea. He said in a low voice, �śHe’s gonna to be waitin’ for us, isn’t he?” and added, before she could answer, �śThe police could take us away. They could send you to prison and me into an orphanage�Ś or the workhouse.” �śNobody will ever take you from me, d’you hear? I’ll kill them first!” Lil said.She gazed long and hard into his eyes and he felt the waves of love once more. She put her silver cutlery on the plate, took both his hands in hers and squeezed them. �śNow you listen to me.” She looked around and lowered her voice. �śI tied him as best I was able. He also had a mangled foot and probably a headache with that clout you gave him. Even if he does get loose, I doubt he’d be in a fit state to follow us.” He looked up, desperately fighting the urge to laugh. All said and done, the clang that thing made when it struck his head was comical and he had never thought they would get him with the mousetrap in a million years.He knew though that Bride was completely ruthless and would not let something as petty as pain hold him back, in view of the amount of money likely to be at stake, and the hatred he bore them. �śNow eat up,” she said, looking at her watch. It was eight thirty-five, less than half an hour until the bank opened. He knew that, instead of excitement, her heart was filled with terror too.The boy gazed at the remains of the kipper on his plate. �śMum, he’s gonna be there. I know he is.” A tear broke as he looked up and wound its way down his cheek. � � ThirtyBride hobbled along, knowing he had about two hours to kill before the bank opened, though he guessed it might take that long to get there, at the rate he was going. Pain was forcing him to stop every thirty yards or so. Where the mousetrap had hacked skin away from the two smallest toes, and mashed one of the nails, the hard leather rubbed against the raw flesh, through the bandages he had improvised by tearing strips of cloth from the bed sheets. He felt the comforting bulge of the wads of pound notes against his chest, each in an inside pocket, as he limped ever closer.� ***� Belcher was getting impatient. He had guessed Bride was making his way to the bank the Guvnor had told him about, but by now, people were everywhere. But then, as he was losing hope, he saw Bride stop once more. This time he had not hobbled as far. He was looking down at his right foot. He saw him look to his left, before shuffling between two buildings. Belcher glanced around, though nobody appeared to be taking any notice, so he made his way there and stole a cautious glance in. It was a long, dark, narrow alley, a lonely place, where few ventured. Ideal.Bride was sitting on a step, unlacing his shoe, grimacing as he slowly eased it off. Belcher smirked, as he saw him unwrapping the blood-soaked bandage and dropping it in a heap on the ground. There was more blood over the end of his foot, much more. This was going to be easier than he thought.� ***� When Bride looked up and saw Belcher towering above, he felt his stomach lurch. Though no slouch himself, he had never seen a man as mighty and frightening as this. Hobbled as he was, he felt especially weak and knew he would have to be very careful in what he said. Bride quavered, �śWhat do you want?” �śLooks painful,” Belcher observed. �śYes, I had an accident. Now if you don’t mind�Ś” The grin disappeared from Belcher’s face. �śYou’d better get up and start walkin’, and if you don’t do as I say, you won’t walk again, ever!” By now, Bride’s heart was thudding. He looked around again, but still they were alone. He started pulling the shoe back on, but had barely got it between finger and thumb, when Belcher kicked it. It flew end over end, before hitting one of two huge wooden barrels brimming with rainwater. �śNow get up, and do as you’re fuckin’ told!” Terrified, Bride eased himself up from the step, and Belcher shoved him between the shoulder blades. Finally light dawned; this man, who had the stink of the workhouse about him, had something to do with the King brothers. Bride had walked two steps, though, before he realised that without the rubbing of the shoe, most of the pain in his foot had gone, so perhaps he might just be able to run. Without warning, he bolted, knowing it was the last thing the man expected. It nearly worked. Belcher reached out and punched Bride in the middle of the back. The blow sent him sprawling face-first in the dirt. Feeling as though every sip of wind had been knocked from him, Bride groaned, as he rolled onto his back, and saw Belcher standing over him, one leg either side. He saw his eyes suddenly bulging, then his hand coming towards him, and tried to shuffle backwards, on his elbows, to escape whatever he had in store.Instead, Belcher picked something up that had tumbled out of his pockets as he’d fallen. It was the two wads of notes. He lifted them slowly, so mesmerised, he nearly missed Bride sliding out. He even managed to stagger up, without being noticed. Thinking the safety deposit box must contain infinitely greater wealth anyway, he knew it didn’t really matter about this relatively minor pittance, as long as this terrible man left him alone. He started walking, but only got one step, before one of those great hands grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, and lifted him partially off the ground, with little more effort than he would have used for a cat.The real fear didn’t come though until Belcher shoved the money inside his jacket and started frogmarching him to the wall between the rain barrels. Once there, he smashed him up against the bricks and Bride saw stars once again, as his head banged against them. �śI been told you gotta safe key or a fob watch.” �śI haven’t, honest. Anyway, you’ve got all the money�Ś”Belcher’s fist slammed into his stomach. Bride collapsed to his knees, in such awful pain, he only vaguely heard him saying, �śYou better start givin’ me some answers, or I’ll break every fuckin’ bone in your body. I been told there’s a bint and a kid too.” Bride couldn’t talk. He had the hazy idea Belcher was frisking him. After several minutes of this fruitless task, Belcher yanked him up once more. When Bride saw his fist about to smash into his face, he gasped, thinking quickly ahead, �śShe’s got it!” His hands were flailing, trying to protect himself. Belcher gripped his neck even harder. �śGot what?” �śBoth of ’em. The fob and the key.” �śWhat’s in the safe?” �śNothing. Just a few old necklaces, worthless, sentiment�Ś” The fist whacked into his stomach again and vomit filled his mouth. He was on his knees, in agony, knowing he would die here, unless he gave this animal something more concrete to go on. There was only one way out he could see, but he would have to tread very carefully. He was looking through watering eyes at diced carrot on Belcher’s left boot, spitting, as he croaked, �śAll right, there is money. Loads of it. Probably jewels too.” �śHow much?” �śThousands�Ś millions even.” Belcher whipped him up once more and he cried out at the pain in his gut. �śWhere is she?”Bride sagged in his grip and hung there like a doll. �śI don’t know, honest, I don’t.” Belcher pulled a photograph from his jacket with his free hand and showed it to him. It was Adam King. �śHe’s dead,” Bride said. �śShe murdered him. Stabbed him to death.” The giant pushed him into the wall, but through his pain, Bride could see his gamble had paid off. When Bride cautiously suggested they share the money, rather than keep fighting, he seemed oddly relieved, until Bride realised he probably had scant knowledge of how the outside world worked. Belcher wouldn’t have a clue how to employ vast sums of money without arousing misgivings, and certainly not how to fence jewellery. He needed him.� ***� Belcher was just tall enough to see over the barrel. He was looking in the direction of the street, as he considered Bride’s clearly sensible offer, when he saw somebody pass by, so transiently that if he’d blinked, he would have missed him. He had seen the Guvnor.� � � � � � � � Thirty-oneWhen Lil and Robert walked into Coutts & Co Bank once more, they saw no sign of Bride, but knew he could materialise at any moment. Lil looked along the row of be-suited tellers behind varnished portals, with no sign of any safety deposit boxes. A giant, green enamelled safe dominated one corner of the bank, and the whole area was lit by a vast electric chandelier. The whole place was teeming with the well to do. A young smiling man in a suit appeared before her. �śHow may we be of service?” �śMum wants to get to her safety deposit box!” Robert piped up.Lil closed her eyes and felt like strangling him. She had meant to build up to the enquiry rather more subtly, so as not to arouse suspicion. Now she would just have to let it ride and pray the man didn’t smell a rat. Luckily, he glanced down at what he saw as an immature, affable lad, who hadn’t yet learned the value of tact, and said, �śBoys, eh? Got two myself. You never know what they’re going to say next.”She smiled, swamped with relief, as he said, so simply she could have cried, �śThat part of the establishment, madam, is below ground, for added security. If you’ll follow me�Ś” They trailed behind him, with Lil briefly squeezing Robert’s hand, and putting her finger to her mouth. They followed him down a flight of stone steps, her block heels clacking loudly, and came to a short corridor, with a whitewashed brick wall to their right, and a row of stout iron bars to their left. They ran from ceiling to floor, and were not unlike those of a prison cell, where she would end up for a very long time if anything went wrong in the next ten minutes. The electric lights were a novelty. It was an odd feeling to be in a lit enclosed area, without the tang of burning oil in the air. Through the iron bars, they saw the far wall was composed of four rows of small numbered steel doors, one on top of the other. All were the same size, about fourteen inches across and twenty high, and all were numbered. Each had a brass circle, about two and a half inches across, on the right hand side for the keyhole. Next to each one was a small brass knob to pull the door open. To their immediate right, was a door set into the wall, with the words For Privacy inscribed upon it in large letters. The man asked, �śMay I see your key and safe number?” She pulled the key and fob from her blouse pocket, and the man watched as she opened it. He didn’t seem surprised at all at its location, having seen many, even stranger places for the number to be secreted. After all, the Duchess of Gloucester kept hers in the whalebone of her corset.After she had shown him the number engraved inside, he smiled once more, and said, �śAll appears to be in order, Madam. Please follow me.” She felt her heart slow down. There were two security guards outside the iron barred door, and at a nod from the young man, one of them produced a key and unlocked it. It made a grating noise that set her teeth on edge as it swung open. They followed him through. �śThat is your safe on the middle right-hand corner, Madam. Please feel free to enter that room for privacy.” He retreated to the corridor to wait. She had the unsettling feeling it had been a mite too easy as she inserted the key and turned it. She pulled the brass knob and the thick steel door coasted open. There was a large metal box inside with a hinged lid on top. She pulled it out. Robert walked ahead and opened the door. She followed him in. The room was brightly lit, with just a plain table, a white linen cloth draped across it and a chair either side. She placed the box on top, and said quietly, �śClose the door.” She pulled out one of the chairs, sat, and lifted the lid.� � � � � � Thirty-twoBride was astounded but relieved by the sudden change in Belcher’s temperament after he had reported Sir Rupert passing by. He seemed even more helpless in the outside world than he had first thought. Bride said, as he massaged his aching belly, �śI hope he’s not making his way to the bank. Only if he gets there and sees the woman and child�Ś” Belcher said nothing, but was looking at him in such a way that said he was certain he’d reeled him in. Bride looked around, as if racking his brains for a solution, though he’d already worked it out. �śI suppose the best way�Ś well, the only way, is to tell him I’ve already got the money, but won’t tell you where it is. Tell him you’ve got me tied up and gagged in a cellar somewhere, and that it won’t take you a minute to get me blabbing. Then, once he’s followed you here, as I’m certain he will, all you have to do, is kill him, then�Ś” �śWhat d’you mean I’ve got to kill him?” �śOnly because you’re more likely to succeed, and anyway, nobody could prove anything.” Certain of his hatred for Sir Rupert, he could see the temptation gnawing at him, so he added, �śThen all you have to do is dump him in this barrel, by which time the woman will have the money, and after we’ve got it off of her, which won’t be hard, we split it down the middle, and�Ś well, go our separate ways. Simple as that.” Belcher’s eyes were slits. Any lingering doubts seemed dispelled when Bride snapped, as he looked at his watch, �śChrist! You’d better look sharp. That bank has been open ten minutes already.” He smirked in spite of his discomfort as Belcher took off down the alley, while he retrieved his shoe. He was already planning his next move as he was lacing it up.He stood in the shadows at the end of the alley where Belcher had seen Sir Rupert pass, watching a very young-looking policeman on the other side of the street, knowing him perfect for what he had in mind. He kept glancing in the direction Belcher had gone to, to get his timing just right, knowing if he wasn’t careful, his plan could easily backfire. He was also conscious of the fact it was nearly fifteen minutes past nine.� ***� He needn’t have worried though, because Lil had been rooted to the spot for nearly ten minutes, just staring. She had been feverishly pulling bag after bag from the box, knowing their extreme high value before she’d even opened them. There was a priced inventory. When she picked it up and looked at the first of more than fifty entries, she felt her mouth drop. Item one, it said, Bodice ornaments of brilliant cut diamonds, set in silver. Circa 1760. Louis Duval of St. Petersburg. Robert watched, mouth gaping, as she picked up the blue velvet presentation case and opened it. The dozens of set diamonds glinted like thousands of silver spears in the light of the single bulb. On the inventory, next to the entry Valuation for the purpose of insurance by Christie’s �Ł500. Then the next. Item two. Necklace and earrings of emeralds and diamonds in open back silver and gold settings. By Nitot & Fils. Circa 1806. Valuation �Ł650. Item three. Pendant enamelled gold set with rubies, sapphires and pearls by Giulliano. Circa 1865. Valuation �Ł800. Item four. Mermaid pendant by Louis Wiese. Circa 1890. Valuation �Ł400. And so it went on�Ś and on. When she finally totted it up, the contents of the box were worth around fifty thousand pounds. � ***� This was a fact that Sir Rupert King was acutely aware of too, as he felt a tap on his shoulder. He had been standing outside the bank for the past few minutes, unable to remember what the woman and child looked like. When he had first seen her, a couple of days ago, he had been in a state of deep despair, and so not thinking straight. The only lead he had was that women, particularly those accompanied by children, were a complete rarity in banks. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Bride either, which wasn’t, he supposed, entirely surprising, in view of the fact he was now certain he was a rogue and nothing more. When he turned and saw Belcher standing behind him, he felt his heart leap into his mouth. Having seen many times in the past what happened when Belcher lost his temper over trivial things, he wished now that he’d never got him involved in the first place.When Belcher said, quietly, �śGot the bastard, red ’anded,” all he could mutter, as he looked up at the beefy face, was, �śHave you, by golly?” �śYeah, got ’im tied up and gagged. Won’t tell me where it is�Ś yet.”Sir Rupert instinctively knew that something was amiss, but still, anger gripped him. His fists clenched and unclenched. �śWhere is he?” �śTied to a chair in a basement, with a gag stuffed in his mouth. Fought you might like to see me get ’im talkin’.” �śWhat about the woman and child?” �śDunno, but they’re all in it together, to stitch you up like a kipper. Did your nephew in too. Stuck a knife in ’im.” Sir Rupert fell back a step, suddenly engulfed by fear. He didn’t care a fig about the little bastard being murdered, but he most certainly did about the money he had salted away. If he was dead, he couldn’t talk�Ś but Bride could. Belcher strutted off, and he followed, fuming with temper, but troubled by the thug’s claim that he’d refused to talk, for he’d never known anyone not giving in to Belcher. �śUp ’ere.” Belcher indicated the alley he had left less than ten minutes ago. Sir Rupert looked along its length, puzzled. That nasty feeling that something was badly wrong was back.He had expected to be led to a house. � ***� Bride was watching from further down, concealed behind some old crates, peering gingerly through a crack. Bride watched in total disbelief as Sir Rupert walked blindly into what was so clearly a trap.When he saw them disappear between the two barrels, he took one glance behind him to be sure the alley was clear in that direction, before making his way towards them. His foot wasn’t hurting as much and it felt as though the bleeding had stopped.� ***� �śThere’s nobody here�Ś” Sir Rupert muttered, as he popped his monocle in, but it was too late. He felt Belcher’s hand lock around the back of his neck, sending him flying and smashing face first into the wall, where both his jaw and monocle cracked.He hung there for a few moments, groaning, the wall propping him up, before sliding down, leaving a blood smear as he went. A shard of glass had punctured his eyeball and stuck from it, glistening red, while the empty monocle was stuck to his grazed cheek with blood. As he came round, Sir Rupert opened his mouth to yell for help, but Belcher kicked him in the ribs. Bride watched impatiently, willing him to get on with it, so he could set the next part of his plan in motion.Sir Rupert spat out a great gob of red and gasped, seemingly unaware of his blinded eye, �śWhat do you want?” �śI found out ’ow much money there really is.” Sir Rupert gulped and said, �śI dare say, though it’s nothing to do with�Ś” �śI told you to shut yer gob!” Sir Rupert spat out more blood, as it streamed from his nose. �śThere’s clearly been�Ś”Belcher kicked him again and Sir Rupert gasped, as loudly as he could, �śHelp! Somebody�Ś anybody�Ś please!” Belcher ignored him, grabbed him under the chin, hauled him up and rasped, an inch from his face, �śAll my life I been in that shit ’ole you run, eatin’ that puke you dish up, while bastards like you filled yer fat bellies with steaks and fings. Wanna know what I ate just to stay alive, eh�Ś eh?” Spit flew from his lips, as he shook him like a doll, though by now, Sir Rupert was too terrified to speak. �śI ate the marrow out the bones they made me split,” he shouted, �śeven though I knew they’d take the skin off me arse if they caught me. Spud peelins too, candles, anyfing, ’cos if I ’adn’t, I woulda died of ’unger. You don’t know what it’s like to go ’ungry, do you?”Sir Rupert spat out more blood, as he glared at Belcher’s free hand grabbing something crawling up the barrel. When he saw what it was, he screamed with all that was left in him, until he was choked off by Belcher’s big hand, gripping his throat even harder. He saw the biggest slug of his life, dangling an inch above his face, with slime dripping from its tail. �śAnd now,” Belcher rasped, �śit’s your turn. Open yer mouth.” Sir Rupert kept his bloodied lips tight shut, as his gorge rose. �śI told you to open yer fuckin’ mouth!” He was about to comply, when something strange happened. His body started to buck, like a puppet. The pupil of his remaining eye suddenly dilated, and a brief �śAaah�Ś” came up from his throat. � ***� Bride watched as he became stiff as a board, knowing he’d either had a fit or a heart attack. It wasn’t until Belcher let go though, and King dropped to the ground, that he realised he was dead and knew it was time to go. Still almost hobbling, he ran as fast as he could down the alley, hoping to God that weedy excuse for a policeman was still outside the post office. He grinned as he saw him swinging his truncheon on its string, with not a care in the world. � Thirty-three�śAmerica?” Robert was sure he’d misheard her, as she clicked the handbag shut. She put her finger to her mouth, and said, �śKeep your voice down.” He was so shocked he didn’t stand right away. �śWe’ve no choice now,” she assured him, �śwe’ve made some powerful and very ruthless enemies here. If we stay, they’ll rout us out eventually, whichever part of the country we chose to live in. For this sort of money, they’ll kill us.” �śBut how will we get there?” �śWell, we’ll swim of course, I mean it’s only three thousand miles.” She laughed at his expression and said, �śCome on, and keep your lip buttoned up as we leave!” As they made their way out, she engaged the young man in light banter as they followed him back into the bank. She dreaded seeing Bride. � ***� She needn’t have worried, because he stood a quarter of a mile away, talking to what must be the stupidest policeman to join the force since Robert Peel had founded it. �śBut how can I be sure you’re telling the truth?” His moustache flicked up and down irritatingly. Fed up with repeating the fact that somebody, a Knight of the Realm no less, had been murdered one hundred yards away, Bride asked, his voice hoarse with temper, �śWhy the bloody hell would I want to do that? I’m honestly curious. Why?” �śSo your chums can nip in there,” he said, indicating the nearby post office with a flick of his truncheon, �śand rob it.” He smiled smugly, as if he’d foiled the crime of the century. Bride nearly hit him. He’d never felt so exasperated in his whole life. Seeing enough time had been wasted already, and that further arguing was pointless, he did the only thing he could think of at such short notice. He snatched the truncheon out of his hand and walked off with it, across the road. �śHey!” the constable called after him. By now, people were stopping to stare. He stood dithering, as his face reddened, torn between staying where he was, thinking this could be part of the crooks’ plan to get him out of the way, and going after what he had been told he must not, under any circumstances lose again, or he was for the high jump. Seeing the man enter an alleyway on the other side of the road, he decided to follow, little knowing he had less than three minutes left to live.� ***� Belcher had just finished frisking the dead knight’s pockets, when he heard the determined tread of boots from behind. He turned to see a cop standing behind him. He grinned at the frightened look on his boyish face, as the constable took in the sheer size of the man confronting him and the dead body behind. The constable fumbled for his whistle with a shaking hand, as he looked around frantically. �śYou blow the gaff on me, you little runt,” Belcher told him grinning, �śit’ll be the last fing you ever do.” The PC blew shrilly on the whistle, before turning to run and tripping on his first step. Belcher grabbed the back of his skull, and only stopped smashing his face on a half-buried old brick when the screaming in his head subsided and he could hear the sound of running feet. He heard more whistle blowing and shouting, some distant, some near. Panic seized him, so he ran up the alley. Three cops entered from that end at full pelt, truncheons in hand. He turned, and seeing two more appear at the other, took the only escape route he could see, an iron ladder next to the barrels, that extended to the roof.As he started clambering up, one of the cops grabbed his foot, but he kicked out, cracking him viciously across the nose. He caught a fleeting peek of pumping blood, and the cop staggering back, dropping his truncheon. Amazingly, Belcher was really enjoying himself. He’d done for the Guvnor, something he had dreamed of doing for years, killed a cop, broken the nose of another, and was free of that place where his future had been made obsolete from the minute he drew his first breath. If he died now, so what? Scaling the top, he climbed onto a foot-wide ledge running the length of the roof, aware that if there was one thing he was terrified of, it was heights. � � � Thirty-fourAs Belcher was wondering where to head to next, Tom Bride was making his way as quickly as he could to the Strand, cursing that idiotic cop with every step. It was now quarter to ten and he had the terrible feeling he must have lost her. He had heard the whistle blowing, and shouting, and wished he could have stayed to see what happened. He desperately wanted that giant dead, so he couldn’t go blabbing to the police, which he had been gambling on all along, but there wasn’t time. Then, as he rounded the corner of Berry Street in Piccadilly, he felt his heart stop when he saw the woman and kid walking at a fast pace right in front of him. Their backs were to him, so he was able to follow them easily. They could have no idea he was there. All he had to do was wait until they were secluded somewhere, before relieving them of the handbag once and for all.If that didn’t happen, he would make a note of where they went and intercept them later. He couldn’t fail now, he thought, as a great grin bisected his tired face. As an added bonus, he might give the kid a few overdue thumps too. He would enjoy that. It would be like afters.They no longer had the suitcase. Clever. A suitcase with a stripy pattern would stick out like a sore thumb. He could see the handbag was not only stuffed so much it looked as though it might split, it looked heavy too. How much wealth could there be inside?Ten minutes later, when they started walking down an alleyway, he let them get as far in as he could, before they might be visible from the other side and then grabbed the double-crossing bitch by the shoulder.He spun her round, slammed her up against the wall and she dropped the bag, her hat falling off.The boy just ran, too exhausted and scared to fight any more.Oddly, the woman didn’t put up any fight, as he had expected her to, and nor did she say anything, apart from an �śUh!” as her back struck the bricks�Ś and then Bride noticed something odd.The light wasn’t especially good down here, but even so, he could see that she’d dyed her hair black in an effort to throw him off the scent. He had to admire her resourcefulness. Then, as he was reaching for the bag, mystified at her sudden lack of pluck, he saw that her nose was different. Her eyes were brown too, when before they were blue. Her mouth was wider. Her lips were fuller. Her ears were different; smaller. Her chin was�ŚHe staggered back in shock, his head swimming, his hands clenching and unclenching. His scalp felt as though ants were crawling through it. Confirmation that he’d been made of a fool of yet again only came when the woman spoke, �śDunno ’oo you are, but you can ’av the bleedin’ bag if yer want. She said you’d show up. There’s nuffing in it�Ś well, lady said to tell yer there was a note.”And with that, she walked off after the boy, calling out, �śTommy, wait fer me, where are yer, yer little bleeder?”Overcome with sudden fury, Bride nearly went after her, but knew Lil was far too cunning to have let the woman know where she was headed next.Bride sagged against the wall behind, which was just as well, as he would have fallen down. As it was, he slid down it, his mouth sagging open, thinking this must be the worst nightmare of his life.It seemed an age before he opened the bag. It was stuffed with an assortment of old clothes, but even now, in one last forlorn hope, he emptied it onto the ground.Tears filled his eyes as he raked through the mass, and as well as the folded note, the only riches he found was a single pound. Trembling, he unfolded the note and began to read.Dear Mr Bride,I hope the enclosed money will help you get over your shock.In any case, it is yours, not ours. You will remember that you very kindly posted it under the door to the hotel room my son and I were staying in.It was a lovely gesture, though I’m sure you’ll quickly gather we don’t need it any more.I sincerely hope you are able to find work to support yourself, and the pound should help you get started.Good luck and God be with you,Lil SmithAfter what seemed an endless time, Bride stood. He hadn’t even the energy to kick the bag as he wanted to.As he considered ending it all by jumping under a tram, as he simply walked away, Belcher was tightrope-walking along the moss covered ledge, half-terrified, half-elated, as scores of faces looked up from four storeys below. � Thirty-fiveBelcher could see that when he reached the end there would be nowhere else to go but up the dodgy-looking slates, to the chimney at the top, from which he could see and smell thick wisps of smoke. After that�Ś well, he would see when he got there, though he had a sure-fire way of guaranteeing all those people, including the police, stayed where they were, while he went over the apex.He stopped when he reached the end, vertigo making him swoon as he looked over at the sheer drop below. It was another alley, where several cats were fighting over a pile of fish bones. He turned and looked down again at the sea of faces. There were even more people now and the police were trying to fan them back, out of harm’s way. This infuriated him, so he hawked up a great glob of green jelly from the back of his throat and spat it out as far as he could. He grinned as he saw people trying to dodge it and shouted down to them, �śFancy something bigger, you bunch o’ shits?” He picked up a loose slate and threw it with a flick of his wrist. It was pure luck it didn’t hit anybody, though it shattered on impact, sending razor sharp shards in all directions. Then he started inching his way up. Once, a tile gave way, and he nearly went with it. He heard gasps and mutterings from the crowd below, shouted orders and more blasts on police whistles. When he finally grabbed the apex, he found it much easier to haul himself up and started laughing as he did. He pulled himself against the chimneybreast. Although the smoke was making him cough, he was laughing all the harder as he looked down at the crowd that was now so vast, it had stopped all traffic on the road. He could see horse-drawn carriages, nose to tail in both directions, with the scrubbed faces of passengers peering out. A gleaming black Rolls Royce had boiled over, with billows of steam gushing from under the engine cowling. The chauffeur had lifted it up to investigate, but the mist had obscured his entire top half.Belcher coughed and wiped his eyes, as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out one of the wads of pound notes he had taken from Bride, shouting, �ś’ere you are, you greedy bastards!” With his elbow crooked over the apex to secure himself, he split the blue band with his thumb nail and bawled, �śCome and get it!” He threw the wad out as far as he could and it split in mid-air. The effect on the crowd was electric. They knew what the green and white pieces of paper were, long before any had fluttered to within grabbing height. The police were jumping about the same as everybody else, grabbing handfuls and stuffing them in pockets, helmets, and open shirtfronts. Even the chauffeur had joined in, using his peaked cap as a container, while his employer leaned out the back window of the car, shaking his fist, white-faced with rage. Several fights broke out, even amongst the police. Two young women were screaming as they tore at each other’s hair.Belcher was laughing so much that, as he swung his leg over the top, to make his getaway, he overbalanced and slipped. He just managed to grab the corner of the chimney with his fingertips. The laughter died instantly, as he scrabbled desperately with his boots for purchase. A few tiles were kicked loose and shattered loudly on the cobblestones.Several women drew their children to them, covering their faces, to spare them the only possible outcome, though several boys were straining their necks to get a better look.An elderly vicar muttered the Lord’s Prayer, while a little drunk near the back growled to the man in front of him, �śCome on, aat the fuckin’ way, so I can get a butcher’s!”By now, Belcher’s fingers were straining against the moss the bricks were dotted with, so the police were fanning people even further back. He screamed as he finally went, clipping the guttering, sailing over the edge. Gasps rose from the crowd.As he landed, a great burp barked from his mouth. His limbs started twitching. His neck was broken. Blood was seeping from the corner of his mouth, as the vicar knelt beside him and read the last rites. A few of the women were sobbing as the crowd drew closer.One said, �śPoor man.”� � � Thirty-sixLil knew Robert was excited, not only about leaving their dingy existence behind for good, but about going on a ship too, having only ever seen pictures and photographs of them. He’d said he was also looking forward to seeing America, his imagination fuelled by what his mother was telling him, and from what he had learned in school, of vast open spaces, mountains, and horses, Red Indians and endless rail-roads. They walked along the less lavish pavements of Piccadilly. She held the suitcase in one hand and her son’s hand in the other, as the pungent odour of thousands of chimneys began to fill the early evening. Both were in shock, having not expected Bride to have fallen for their scam so easily. �śWhere are we going?” Robert asked. �śWhat?” She was aware that she was breathing much too quickly. �śTo another hotel,” she told him, feeling faint, as she swapped the suitcase to her other hand.� Thirty-sevenAs Lil and Robert were checking in another hotel, Alistair King was sitting in his brother’s study, trying to shut his ears to what the police inspector was telling him. It needed repeating three times and the inspector, a kindly fellow with a bald head and thick lamb chop whiskers, gazed upon him through sallow eyes, as he puffed on his pipe. He was asking if his brother had any enemies.After the inspector had left, twenty minutes later, he stayed there for a long time, fear creeping up his spine like a worm.� ***� It didn’t take long for news of the Guvnor’s demise to get around, as well as that of the bully, Mr Belcher. By noon, the place was in uproar. Staff were attacked everywhere, with the severity of the beatings determined by how much they were hated. In desperation, and in fear for her own life, Miss Becksersdeth put Mr Pocket temporarily in charge of the stone-breaking yard. The men downed tools immediately. He begged them to cooperate. They dissolved into laughter. If he’d had any sense, he’d have retreated there and then. Instead, flourishing his Bible, he reminded them of the inscription on the wall in the men’s canteen: �ŚGod rewards labour’. The laugher turned to hissing and booing. He ran for it as chunks of flint were thrown, nipping at his face and head and smashing his spectacles. Then, minutes later, as stolen cigarettes were passed around, the laughter and chatter faded, they heard the slow clump, clump, clump of shoes descending the stairs.At first, they thought the police were here to quell the disturbance, but grinned when they saw Alistair King instead. His mouth hung open. Tears streamed down his face. The clumping echoed against the high walls, as his arms dangled by his sides. He didn’t seem to know where he was going or what he was doing. He stopped at the bottom, where he stayed for a long time, staring into space. A few of the younger men, with particularly bad memories, wanted to savage him on the spot, and had to be held back.He didn’t see them conferring, and several minutes later, the crack of iron on flint was heard, though he barely heeded it. He ambled on, with the vague intention of having a word with Mr Parsons, to see if he could help, though he knew that even he despised him. When he drew level with the tool shed though, hands came from everywhere, and his scream was muffled abruptly by a huge one across his mouth. King’s body began to shake out of control, nausea making him fall. Through bulging eyes he saw the boy Mr Flint had thrashed in the boys’ canteen getting closer. �śYou like pricks, don’t ya, yer queer bastard? ’Ow d’ya like this one?” he said, flourishing a long needle before his eyes, not unlike the one Mr Parsons used to prick boils. The tip glinted wickedly.He stabbed him in the arm and a squeak came from under the hand. He stabbed him all over and only stopped as King momentarily lost consciousness. Then, as he opened his eyes, he saw the boy holding a poker, and it didn’t take much working out to wonder where that was going, as they bent him over.� ***� Mr Flint was set upon in the children’s canteen, while Miss Beckersdeth was cornered in the laundry. A dozen of the bigger boys held his head under the sickening broth in the huge tureen, until he nearly drowned. Then they knocked him to the ground and laid into him with a couple of the long canes he had been so fond of using, until he was covered from head to toe in red weals and cuts. He screamed and howled for mercy, while Mrs Scantleberry cowered in the corner, snivelling. � ***� As Mr Flint was trying to crawl away from the kicks, Miss Beckersdeth shook, paralysed with fear, as a bunch of women, with Mrs Inkpen to the fore, advanced upon her.Miss Beckersdeth held the strap she had spanked Mrs Inkpen’s seven-year-old daughter with, for playing up when the time had come to have a boil lanced. She swung the stout piece of baked leather back and forth half-heartedly, knowing she didn’t stand a chance. She managed to gasp, �śGet away from me,” before being struck dumb with terror. Some of the women carried rolling pins, while others had bars of soap wrapped in towels. One even had a broom. Others had their only their nails. They charged. Beckerdeth’s screams were drowned in the clatter of clogs.� � Thirty-eightThe next morning was a sunny, cheerful day, with the bloom of spring in the air. Lil told Robert she had a surprise; this on top of the leviathan they were to sail the ocean upon. The only clue she gave was that they would not be travelling by train from St. Pancras after all. �śCan you guess?” she asked, as she stood behind him, brushing his hair. His shoulders dropped in frustration. �śI don’t know,” he admitted. There was a knock on the door. �śCome on,” she told him, picking up the suitcase, �śit sounds as though it’s here.” She opened the door to reveal the bellboy, who she had already tipped off, lest he should spoil it all by loud announcement. �śThere,” she told him, when they reached the hotel steps. She had told him to close his eyes before venturing outside. He fell back with shock when he opened them. The rear door, held open by a grinning chauffeur, was that of a sixteen foot, dark green, Rolls Royce Silver Ghost. The interior was no less plush, with green leather upholstery, topped with lace napery and walnut, silver and gold surround. There were even wool twist carpets on the floors.The entire staff of the hotel were there to wave them off.Later, as Alistair King’s last words begging for mercy were being muttered, the car was pulling up alongside the ship that was even bigger than it had featured in Robert’s grandest imaginings.� Part Two� � � � � � � � � � � � � Thirty-nineLil had been so anxious to get out of London, she had paid scant attention to any of the minutiae surrounding the ship. Affairs of the sea had never held much interest for her. All she knew was that today was Titanic’s maiden voyage.Now though, she couldn’t stop staring, and nor could Robert, and nor could anybody else. The dock was heaving with people. It seemed the whole of Southampton had turned out.Wisps of smoke trickled lazily into the blue sky from one of the four funnels, which looked as big as a mountain. Everywhere, parents fought to keep their children together, as the gangways for the first, second and third class passengers were sought. People and luggage swarmed from a train that had just arrived, while scores of porters dashed about.Gentlemen from the press were everywhere, fighting to get the best shots of dignitaries, there both to board the ship, or to wave loved ones off. Some didn’t care about the famous. It was the ship, the biggest in the world, that they wanted to photograph.A Daimler landaulet touring car came to a stop a hundred yards further down, and a man and woman climbed out, with three children and their governess. Lil watched as the woman embraced the man, before he hugged the sobbing children in turn. She heard the woman say, tearfully, �śWrite to us, Bruce,” as he made his way to the ship with his staff and luggage-laden porters in tow. She blew him a kiss. He blew it back.A man with a black cloth covering his head slowly turned the handle of a movie camera from a raised plinth, taking in, not only the ship, but her and Robert too, as a brass band belted out Rule Britannia. As ecstatic as she was though, Lil wanted to board as quickly as possible, knowing Bride might have made his way here, and could be loitering in the shadows, ready to pounce.� ***� She had booked an outside stateroom, that although in first class, was on the port side of the ship, facing away from the dockside.They spent some time, though, simply gazing over every inch of the room, with their mouths hanging open. It was ornate almost to a ridiculous degree, with virtually everything edged in gilt. The carpets were soft, thick twist wool. The sheets on the beds were gold silk and lace. There was even a teak writing desk, and a marble fireplace with a large oval mirror above. Robert was soon drawn to one of the square portholes, each side of the dressing table, having heard muffled shouts, brass bands and the sounds of engines. From somewhere came the chirp of a mouth organ. He saw a tug, with Vulcan on its side, pulling them away from the quay. It was absorbing enough, but he wanted to go on deck instead, and be part of the real excitement. Lil dashed it immediately, by snapping, �śWe’ll not venture out, not ’til we’re far out to sea, and that’s final! I have explained.” She was looking at herself in the mirror as she pulled her gloves off. �śBut we’re leaving port. Even if he is there�Ś” �śThey have a wireless on board. If the police are with him, they may be able to communicate with the ship and get us that way, as they did with Dr Crippen.” She started brushing her hair. Robert was silent as he continued to gaze out at the broad stretch of water. Across the water, they could see a smaller ship with the name New York on its side, its decks crowded with spectators. As they drew closer, there were barely eighty feet between them and Robert said, �śMum, look!” When she looked closer, she felt frightened all over again. The little ship was moving quickly towards them, stern first, drawn by the wake of the much bigger liner they were part of. They heard sounds like gunshots, which were its mooring ropes snapping. The ship came so close, she found herself pacing backwards, certain they would collide. Soon, they passed into the English Channel, making for Cherbourg in France to pick up more passengers, many of them American. Only then did they make their way to the poop deck at the stern, where they stood for a long time, feeling the wash of the salty wind against their skin. Lil’s hair streamed out behind in hues of gold, as they watched the Isle of Wight melt into the haze. Groups of children were playing nearby, with one boy yanking a string to set a top spinning. Robert grinned as he watched and clapped when he finally succeeded. The boy bowed to him like a matador. As they dressed for the evening though, Lil’s imagination took flight. She could not dispel the thought of that wireless. In her mind’s eye, it took on the form of a mind-boggling beacon of communication, decades beyond the primitive, unreliable thing she had read that it really was.What, she wondered, if there were also private detectives on board, disguised as guests? Thinking of Sir Rupert and Alistair King, she saw very clearly the huge reward promised for their capture, even at this late hour. For all she knew, the Kings might even have sufficient clout and funds to have the ship do an about turn, as had happened with Crippen. She knew her only hope was to embellish her new role as Mrs Brookes. After all, they only had to get through the next few days, and then they would be free.She sat Robert down and told him that not only were they Mrs Frances Brookes and her son, but that they were travelling, ultimately, to Boston, Massachusetts, to be with her husband, who was a wealthy investment broker.They were considering a permanent relocation to America, to make life easier for him, and had been on a horse-buying trip in Hampshire, where he had contacts in the know, because he had insisted that English thoroughbreds were the best.It was, quite deliberately, a simple enough yarn with not too much to remember, and she was sure Robert would be able to stick to it. She made him repeat it back to her several times, to be sure.She went through it one more time, as she stood on the poop deck, in a dress of glimmering jade chiffon, with a necklace of gleaming emeralds around her neck. �śNow remember,” she said, as she turned the doorknob, �śspeak nicely, and only when spoken to.” He nodded. � FortyThey ate in the first class dining saloon, while a string quintet rasped away in the middle, sitting in one of the Jacobean-style alcoves, with a mixed bag of Americans and English. All, without exception, were completely unlike the staid, priggish stereotypes of her imagination. Indeed, the huge American man sitting opposite, next to a handsome, uniformed officer, wasted no time introducing himself. �śIsidor Straus, at your service, Ma’am,” he said with a flourish and Lil started a little at the accent she had never heard before. �śAnd you most certainly are, may I tell you, the most delectable dame aboard, ’cept for my Ida here of course.” He laughed and beamed across his big sweating face. Lil was about to speak, when Ida, an attractive woman herself, who Lil guessed to be in her forties, rebuked quietly, �śIsidor, rein in that wicked tongue o’ yours! The young lady is bashful.” Lil felt a faint flush cross her cheeks. �śSee how you have made her blush? You know how reserved the English are. Now you leave her be.” She smiled apologetically.As they ate their first course, of cream of barley soup, any remaining ice was broken when Robert asked the officer, �śHow do you steer a ship this big? With a wooden wheel like Nelson?”The question attracted good natured laughter from all and Ida clapped her hands saying, �śIsn’t he just a dear?” �śYes, in a way, we do,” said the officer. �śIt’s attached to a bronze pedestal, called a telemotor. It’s linked hydraulically with the steering mechanism in the stern. This in turn, steers the rudder.”He turned his attention to Lil, and said, �śHe’s a bright young man�Ś Oh, please forgive me. Joseph Boxhall, Fourth Officer.” He took her hand, and shook it gently. �śMrs Frances Brookes,” she replied.Straus asked, as he cut the tip off a huge cigar with a silver cutter, �śWhere d’you hail from?” Ida gave him an acid stare, but this time, he ignored it. By now, all ears were tuned in, as she relayed the story she and Robert had rehearsed. Straus nodded and said, �śUh-hu,” a few times, as he lit the thing, before blowing a thick stream of blue towards the ornate ceiling. Then he threw his shoulders back and started talking about horses too. Several tables heard how his Daddy had been a rancher down in Texas, and how he had ridden his first pony at four, even learning to fire a Winchester rifle from one, without the kick knocking him off. �śWhy, by the time I was your age, boy, I could hit a circle on a barn door two feet across, from more than thirty yards!”By this time, Robert was all ears, leaning over the table, completely absorbed. Lil began to sweat, thinking he would start asking questions she would be ill-equipped to answer, but luckily, Robert came to the rescue once more, by asking, �śDo you live on a ranch too?”Straus looked a little embarrassed, as he replied, quietly, �śHell�Ś no, son. Cain’t ride at all n’more, on account o’�Ś well�Ś” �śHe gets the sneezes, the poor dear,” Ida said primly, and Isidor choked on his cigar and turned the colour of a ripe tomato. Now the laughter roared, and Isidor wheezed, �śOh honey! Our secret an’ all. Cain’t a man have some pride?” He dabbed his watering eyes.When the laughter had died down, the attention focused on Boxhall, and he was flooded with questions. �śHow much does the ship weigh?” Robert asked. �śForty-five thousand gross tons, half as big again as Cunard’s Lusitania, and a hundred feet longer, at eight hundred and ninety feet.” �śWhat about the anchors?” �śTwo of them, at fifteen and a half tons each.” Straus whistled and asked, �śHow in the name of damnation did they get them to the ship yard? I saw one when we boarded, hanging beneath the forecastle deck – it looked like a kid’s toy.” �śTwenty dray horses per item,” Boxhall told him, �śand a crane a third as big as the Eiffel Tower to lift them.” �śWhat about the propellers?” asked a thin, retired surgeon at the end, as the chandelier glinted from his monocle. In his element, Boxhall smiled, as he leaned back in the sumptuous comfort of his chair. He rakishly lit a cigarette. �śThree of them. Sixteen feet across, copper alloy, forty-five tons apiece.”The statistics flooded from him. About two thousand two hundred people on board. Ten months to fit the interior installations, and several million man-hours to perform them. Fourteen thousand men built her. Many were injured. Some died. Twenty-three tons of tallow, train oil and soft soap were needed to grease the ways as the ship was launched.He told the gathering, that in spite of the ship’s vast size, the launch had taken just sixty-two seconds, and that six anchor chains, plus two piles of drag chains, weighing eighty tons each were needed to help slow her down. She had nevertheless reached twelve knots before striking the water.When the gasps of awe had subsided, Straus laughed and said, as he looked around, �śAs I ’spected. Not a single question from a dame. No offence, Ma’am,” he said to Lil, as he stuck his chin out, �śbut as my Daddy always said�Ś” and here he leaned forward, his face a grinning, sweating moon, �ś�Ś it’s the fellas who do all the thinkin’.”After a long guffaw, he leaned back, winked at Robert, and several of the men nodded and laughed in accord. Ida glared, and mouthed at him to be quiet, before Lil asked, very quietly, �śHow many lifeboats, Mr Boxhall?”The chatter slowed and then died at several surrounding tables. Boxhall had been putting a fresh cigarette to his lips. His face clouded over, as he admitted a little quietly, �śI’m er�Ś I’m not rightly sure. Thirteen�Ś fourteen. Something�Ś something like that. Not that we’ll need them, of course.” He smiled thinly, though the maths that went through everybody’s minds didn’t need vocalising.Boxhall tried not to show his relief when Robert announced, �śI would love to see the crow’s nest.” He invited Lil and Robert on a tour of the ship the following day as by then, they would be crossing the Atlantic Ocean, and he would have a couple of hours free.That night, they retired to their beds euphoric, but so exhausted, they were asleep in minutes.� Forty-oneThe next day, they anchored off a place called Roche’s Point, near Queenstown in Southern Ireland, to pick up more passengers and bags of mail, where the crowds were as ecstatic as those in Southampton, if not quite as numerous.Then the ship nosed its way into the Atlantic Ocean, and, under Boxhall’s guidance, Lil and Robert explored it from the poop deck to the forecastle deck, and every square foot of space in between. The only blot was that the First Officer forbade Robert a trip into the crow’s nest, saying it was too dangerous. They visited the bridge and then the wheelhouse, where the Quartermaster, Robert Hichens, allowed Robert to take the wheel. There were smiles as he remarked it was nowhere near as big as he had thought it would be. He had a lot of difficulty believing it could steer a ship weighing as much as Boxhall had said.He even met the Captain himself, but felt a little tense as he shook his hand; and not just because he reminded him of Mr MacPherson, the grocer on Cross Street, but because a ship’s captain had always occupied a very aloof place in his imagination.The thick white beard and gleaming medals pinned to his white tunic added to the mystique, as he said, shaking Robert’s hand, �śCaptain Edward Smith.” All eyes were on him, as Robert replied nervously, �śRobert�Ś er�Ś Robert Brookes. And�Ś this is my mum.” �śEnjoying the voyage, young man?” �śYes, thank you,” Robert said, unable to bring his voice above or below a level plane.As they made their way back out onto A deck, they heard him demanding if a pair of lost binoculars had been found yet. After learning they hadn’t, he snapped, �śThen for Heaven’s sake, show some initiative, man! Hunt for them, properly! We must have them, before the ice.”Seeming relieved to be out of the line of fire, Boxhall took them to see the compass platform, amidships, from where he explained most of the navigation was conducted.The last place he took them to, at Lil’s request, was the wireless room, and she sagged in relief the moment she clapped eyes on it. It was a heap of brass, wires and dials, with a very stressed and uncertain looking man sitting before it. If anything, it looked dangerous. �śIt’s more of a novelty, really,” Boxhall told them, seeming a trifle embarrassed at the contraption, �śit’ll never catch on, er�Ś” He looked around and said, half-playfully, �śbut don’t tell the captain I said that.” He winked and they both laughed. He gave them a short lecture about Morse Code, the only sort of conversation it seemed capable of, when it worked. �śDots and dashes,” he said, �świth each letter of the alphabet made up of a combination thereof.” He chuckled. �śI mean, I ask you! I’m hopeless at it myself, though Mr Philips here, I’m sure, will very kindly astound you with his speed and dexterity. I’m rather envious, if truth be known. Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll give him a message to tap out. We’ll see if you can guess what it is.” He scribbled something on a thick pad, beside the wireless, whilst keeping his back to them. Then, as if he’d thought of something more appropriate, he crunched it up and tossed it in a wire basket, before writing another.He passed it to Philips, who tapped it out in a blur. �śWell,” he asked grinning, when the clicking stopped, �ścan you guess?” They both shrugged, so he said to Robert, as he passed the slip of paper to him, �śAloud, if you please.” �śWe are sinking fast,” Robert recited, �śall vessels please make haste. Save our souls. Thirty-six degrees North. Forty-eight degrees East.” He couldn’t believe his ears. �śAll those words in just a few seconds?” Philips grinned too, as he removed his head phones, and said, �śGood, eh? Don’t worry. I didn’t send it.” �śAnd nor should we ever,” Boxhall reminded them, �śas you know, the ship is damn near unsinkable, on account of its double skin.” �śVery impressive,” Lil told him, feeling anything but impressed.As they were leaving the little room, Robert stooped on the pretext of tying his shoelace and retrieved the discarded note from the bin. It said, �śYou are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I wish I could marry you.”Though shocked, he could only admire the man’s taste, as he took them to the Café Parisien, to take tea. He watched his mother in awe, as Boxhall chatted with her, but vowed never to tell her.� Forty-twoFriday and Saturday seemed to vanish in a blur. Lil and Robert raced each other along the length of the ship, through the enclosed promenades of both first and second class, laughing as they went. Their footfalls echoed from the walls and ceilings. In the restaurant that evening, they heard talk of a professional thief, and that several wealthy ladies had been relieved of various items of jewellery, and that other valuables had disappeared from the suites of the well-to-do.Lil had stirred upon hearing this, thinking of the suitcase. She had not considered this possibility, such was the rush she had been in to get away.The dinner party had been organised by George and Eleanor Widener of Pennsylvania, who were among the richest people on board, and Captain Smith, an honoured guest, sat at the far end, though he had said very little and seemed preoccupied.Next to him sat Major Archibald Butt, the American President’s aide-de-camp, who listened to the exchange with interest.Lil and Robert had been invited, at the insistence of Isidor and Ida Straus, mostly because Ida had taken a shine to Robert. Lil had dressed him appropriately, in a sailor suit, and Ida gazed at him benevolently. Lil was a little embarrassed that Robert had been unable to take his gaze from Eleanor Widener, though she could see why. She had never seen such a beautiful woman in her life, and when she spoke, her voice was like indigo velvet. �śHave you had anything taken?” she asked Lil, as the chandelier glinted from a band of diamonds circling her neck. �śNo, not yet,” Lil replied, thinking how easy it would be to break into their suite. She herself wore a necklace of rubies to complement her purple evening gown. �śBut we will be on our guard from now on.” �śWonder who he is,” Ida said, sipping champagne and looking around. �śIt’s kinda obvious,” George replied, cutting a cigar, �śIt’s this young fella.” He nodded at Robert, whilst winking at Lil.A steward stepped forward to light his cigar. Ida kicked George under the table, and he grunted, making Robert laugh. �śPerhaps it ain’t a fella,” Major Butt pointed out grimly, �śmaybe it’s a dame.”This uncomfortable possibility brought a moment of silence, as he polished his spectacles on a napkin, but Eleanor Widener was having none of it. �śI firmly believe that all of the female members of First Class are ladies first and foremost. They would never stoop to such treachery, as might those lesser beings beneath decks.” �śI agree,” Ida said, and began to tell the gathering about a book she had read by an eminent psychiatrist, that effectively quashed the theory completely.Major Butt simply grunted and painfully aware of acid looks from various females, shrugged and sipped his wine.Captain Smith stood at about nine o’clock and announced, �śI will make it my business to pull out all stops in our efforts to apprehend the culprit. I sincerely hope the thief is not a crew member.”With that, he thanked the Wideners for such a pleasant evening, and excused himself, by saying, �śDuty calls.”The comment brought polite laughter, and soon, seeing that Robert was barely able to keep his eyes open, and by now worried about her valuables, Lil made her own excuses and retired. ***� On Sunday morning, dressed in their very best, they attended a Church of England service, presided over by Captain Smith, and then in the evening, a hymn-sing in the second class dining saloon. It was presided over by a man who introduced himself as Reverend Ernest Carter, who turned out to be the vicar of the Poor Parish Church of St Jude’s in East London. Lil recognised him immediately, though she didn’t think he had noticed her, probably because of her new-found status.People from her background simply didn’t rise to these dizzying heights!She had seen him several times at the head of Temperance Society marches, mostly comprised of dour ladies in black, holding aloft banners, condemning the �ŚDemon Drink’, as they sang forth such pious hymns as �ŚMy eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord’. He bade them pray for his underprivileged �Śflock’ back home, and in particular, little Josiah Edwards, who had died aged three, of scarlet fever. A few tears were shed. �śLet us pray for the soul of the thief on board, and that he may search his conscience, before the Day of Reckoning,” continued Carter. A man somewhere at the back said, �śNeeds ’ors whippin’, the bugger, not prayin’ fer!”There were several grunts of assent, though an embarrassed �śSssshhh!” followed.When the prayers had finished, a lady called Marion Wright sang �ŚLead kindly light’, to the accompaniment of an upright piano, and Carter explained afterwards that it was written as the result of a vessel wrecked in the Atlantic. Lil thought this was not a detail calculated to engender confidence, particularly in view of the number of lifeboats available and that perilous-looking thing they used for long-distance communication. She said nothing.Then they retired to their beds, while in a starkly different world, far below the waterline, a very fraught card game was in progress. � � � � Forty-threeThis was a world the passengers never saw. For most it didn’t even exist, yet without it, the ship was dead in the water.Second Engineer James Hesketh called the place �Śthe Midnight World’, a terrible place of risk, noise and fumes that brought headaches and nausea. It was a world populated by �Śmidnight men’, with black faces, from which bright eyes stared, and white teeth grinned. Leading Stoker Fred Barrett, who hated losing, fumed as he gazed at his hand, where not a single card had a higher value than the five of clubs. He never seemed to win these days.His eyes shone like beacons, as he snarled, �śShit!” and tossed them on the upturned crate they were sitting round.The sixteen-year-old Stoke Hand sitting opposite, who had no card less than a Jack, grinned, as he took the five pennies Fred had bet, and kissed them, before dropping them in his top pocket. �śYou should pray more,” he said. Fred reached out and cuffed him playfully, before snarling at the others, �śLittle sod’ll beggar me by time we’re docked.” The others laughed through cigarettes clamped between their teeth, so he added, �śAnd you buggers too,” attracting more laughter, and coughing from Angus the Scot, who was the oldest member of the tribe. Angus touched a match to an ancient black pipe, so clogged he could barely smoke it. He regarded them disapprovingly through watering blue eyes, framed with bushy white eyebrows. Angus always watched, but never played. He had told them repeatedly that cards were the �ŚSeeds of the Devil’, and that damnation awaited them, unless they cast them asunder.They played a few more hands and at last Barrett gazed at a King, two Queens, and a ten. He had to swallow carefully, so as not to give himself away. �śI’ll raise,” he said, almost in a whisper. He put another three pennies on the crate and the boy did the same. He picked another card. It was a Jack. He bit his lip. The boy picked a card. His face and shoulders dropped and Barrett said, �śI’m done. Let’s see what you’ve got.” �śNo, you first,” the boy said miserably, laying his four cards on the crate, face down. �śAll right!” Barrett said, throwing his down face up. �śThere, beat that, you little bastard!” He grinned through the black.The boy slowly and deliberately turned his cards over and fanned them out. There were four aces.Barrett’s chin nearly hit the floor.The laughter was so raucous, nobody could stand. Even Angus had to grin through pink gums. That was when a screeching sound reverberated through the ship so loudly, they all clamped their hands to their ears. Angus’s pipe fell to the deck and skittered off.A red warning light came on, with the Stop indicator on and Fred muttered, �śJesus!” before shouting, �śShut all dampers!” The noise was deafening and seemed to go on and on. When it tapered off, there was a rapid popping noise, like a low-powered machine gun. Only Fred and old Angus recognised it as the sound of rivets blasting out, fast enough to go clean through a man. As they stood, one of them caught the crate by his knees, tipping it over, sending the cards and coins slipping and tinkling in all directions. Angus muttered, �śIceberg, I’ll wager. She’ll not be happy.” By the clock, it was twenty minutes shy of midnight.Forty-fourAll but Fred, who against the odds would make his way to the top, had about fifteen terror-filled minutes left to live, while on B deck, Robert Smith blinked away a dream. He had been back in Rice Lane, laughing as he ran through the mud, chased by Mr McPherson, with a length of rope clutched in his hand. There were five of them. They had splintered the moment he had given chase, so he could only pursue one, and he had picked on him. The others were doubled up laughing, relieved it wasn’t them. The screeching noise had woken him, together with several jolts that had made the crystal of the small chandelier tinkle. He was half awake, instinctively frightened. �śMum?”She muttered something. �śMum!”He heard her stirring, a rustling noise, then the harsh electric bulbs lit the cabin, making him squint. She was looking at him through half-closed eyes, but then they snapped open as she heard shouting, bells ringing and muffled oaths and screams. �śSomething’s happening,” he said, staring at the curtains, which seemed to be hanging at a weird angle. She muttered, semi-dreamily, �śGod has decided to punish us.” Robert watched her as he scrabbled for his trousers, his heart whamming as he slipped into them�Ś and then the lights went out. She yelped and Robert said, �śWe’re going down, aren’t we?”She was about to reply when the lights flickered on again, and they saw that in that brief interlude, the cabin had tilted even more towards either fore or aft. She never knew which was which, though she knew they were sinking fast. �śCome on, get dressed. We must go�Ś”As she was pulling on an ankle length skirt, there was sudden hammering on the door. A clipped voice called through, �śMake your way to A deck, orderly and calmly.” Then they heard the same voice giving the same instruction to the next cabin along. Robert had barely tied his shoes, when he asked, �śWhat about the money?” She pulled the suitcase from under her bed and hefted it onto the mattress. Above the surrounding din, they could hear muted bangs and the rending and squealing of metal tearing far below. Oddly, through it all, they could also hear one of the string ensembles playing somewhere close by. �śIf the lights go out again, it might be for good,” Lil said. �śCome on then!” Robert growled, with terror in his eyes. He grabbed her hand and started pulling. � ***� She looked at him, seeing his hair was unkempt. Absurdly, she wanted to brush it. She pulled the door open a crack and saw a sight she would never forget. Two manservants and three maids were following a lady attired from head to toe in red silk and lace. Her hair was piled up, with a choker of gold set with jewels around her neck, carrying a closed pink parasol, trimmed with purple feathers. Her arm was gloved to the elbow in white lace. They recognised her as Eleanor Widener.It was only as the ship lurched suddenly and a couple more bangs whacked up like thunder, from beneath them, that Lil found her senses.Robert said, sounding tearful, �śMum, we’ll die if we stay.” They walked out, seeing the corridor was almost empty, meaning most of the people had made their way up to the lifeboats. When they had found their way there, they felt the biting cold of the North Atlantic. In seconds, their fingers and the tips of their noses were numb.Robert grinned, as he saw a bright flash in the sky, towards the stern, followed a second later by a deafening crack, which made the air jolt back and forth. He muttered happily, �śFireworks!”His grin faded, though, as he was being pushed and jostled by adults a hair’s breadth from panic. They could hear other children crying, and a woman screaming something jumbled about her baby, though it was engulfed as another rocket shrieked up into the black. Lil was confused. There was no order at all, though she knew what had happened, seeing the vague outline of giant icebergs in the sea around them. Some were so vast, they blotted out the millions of stars.The water was strewn with other, more numerous chunks, some as big as houses.Fourteen lifeboats�Ś maybe thirteen. Two thousand two hundred people. A crew that didn’t know its knee from its elbow. Lost binoculars. A wireless that�Ś well�Ś she tried not to think about it. She was gripping both the bag and Robert’s hand so hard, he was wincing. She was suddenly shoved so hard, she found herself sprawling on the deck, heaving for breath. Her neck twinged, where her head had snapped back and she was briefly dazed.All around were a sea of shoes, darting this way and that. A pair of spectacles crunched as somebody stepped on them. The suitcase had slithered a couple of feet ahead. In spite of terrible pain between her shoulders, she reached out and pulled it back. If they survived, it contained their whole future�Ś but where was Robert? Her eyes were instantly flicking everywhere. She had been holding his hand. One of the ship’s crew helped her up. She looked around frantically.He was gone.� Forty-fiveThe pain vanished. She turned in a complete circle, not twice, but endless times, looking from face to face. Her heart was hammering. She tried to calm herself down, knowing he couldn’t have got far and that he would be on the lookout for her too.She guessed from the slope of the deck that the ship could sink soon though with the din coming up from the depths, she knew it could break apart at any moment and go much quicker.She bawled out his name, but she might as well have been trying to shout above the sound of Big Ben. Soon her throat hurt from shouting.The panic on deck was complete. Others too had been knocked over and several were unconscious. A few were fighting. A man was crawling around blindly, groping for his spectacles. He screamed as somebody stepped on one of his fingers, breaking it.She started running, flitting in and out of people and pushing a few, not caring a damn about them, wanting only to see her son and fling her arms around him. At the same time, she knew it would be foolhardy to leave the immediate area and go searching further afield.There was no sign of him at all.Crewmen were linking arms to try and stem the mayhem.She saw an officer threatening some of the crowd with a revolver.He fired two shots in the air, and with that, she saw Robert’s face appear between the linked arms and she darted forward screaming, �śLet him through. He’s mine.”They broke their barrier for a split second and the boy ran through, straight into Lil’s embrace.She almost crushed the wind out of him, she was so relieved. A man’s voice said, �śYou’d better head for the lifeboats, madam. Half are already taken.” When she turned to see who it was, he had gone. �śFrom now on,” she said, sobbing and almost shouting, �śstick to me like glue. Promise me!” She shook him, but he was unresponsive. He was completely silent, his face utterly blank and she knew he was almost petrified with fear. Holding both his hand and the suitcase, this time double tight, she started making her way to the nearest lifeboat, already three quarters full.She was dismayed to see that one, already on the swell below, had only twelve people inside. There was easily room for four times as many.Then, as she was wondering how long somebody would last if they remained immersed in the freezing sea here, she felt something hard in the middle of her back.It felt like the muzzle of a gun.A man’s breath was hot on her neck, while her own was locked in her throat.� � � � Forty-sixHe muttered, an inch from her ear, �śLet go or I’ll kill you here and now. There’s none to save you.” �śThere’s nothing in it, just�Ś” �śDon’t turn around!” �śThat man was right, you should be whi�Ś”He pushed the gun even harder until it was hurting. �śAll right�Ś all right!” She let go, trying hard not to be sick. �śThank you. Wasn’t hard, was it?” The pressure disappeared. After a few seconds, she turned, as did Robert, both of them with tears in their eyes. They just caught a glimpse, before he disappeared and were shocked to see one of the waiters carrying their suitcase away. They recognised the parting in his hair, flowing dead centre down the middle.The ship tilted suddenly. The screaming redoubled and several people around them fell.A man lay near them, unconscious, his head bleeding. His wife was on her knees before him, shouting for help. It never came. Perhaps the money didn’t matter any more. There seemed to be no sound or reality to the scene as they watched the maelstrom of fear and panic; men frogmarching their hysterical women to the ship’s edge, howling children holding onto their legs. A few were being prised loose by the ship’s crew, some of whom were crying themselves. They saw a well to do man with a waxed moustache stand to attention, before pulling a Derringer pistol from under his red silk lined cape. He placed it under his chin and pulled the trigger. The bullet came out the top of his top hat in a pinkish grey cloud. A huge bang rumbled up from somewhere below and the ship bucked like a horse.Lil felt a man’s arm circle her waist, as a voice insisted, �śJust get her in, for gawd’s sake, or she’ll be a goner like the rest of us.” �śMy boy too!” she gasped as he lifted her with no effort at all. He was gripping her so tight, she couldn’t breathe. She tried to fight him as he dropped her into one of the lifeboats, but thankfully, saw another man carrying Robert towards her. She saw tears streaming down his cheeks, before blacking out briefly. As she came back to her senses, he was beside her. The last glimpse they had of the deck was of the string quintet, who had made their way up from below. They calmly arranged themselves in a semi-circle and at a nod from the cellist, struck up a piece she recognised from church attendance as �ŚNearer my God to thee’. The soft, tender notes carried across the horror like a salve. Her boat was not designed to carry as many, and after they had dropped about ten feet, it tilted abruptly aft. Everybody screamed in terror. Various personal belongings tumbled overboard and she felt something smack into her left eye, so hard, it felt as if her head was split open. She saw a shrieking woman above being held back and when she saw why, she realised how lucky she was. The object that had struck her was a baby’s head, before it dropped into the glacial water, thirty feet below. The moment they hit it themselves, no strength could hold the woman. She was over the side in a flash and that was last they ever saw of her. A matronly, big-busted woman, who introduced herself as Molly Brown, called from the front, in one of those voices that instantly commanded respect, �śLet us keep our chins up, everybody. The good Lord is with us now. Row for your lives, or she’ll drag us down!” She held the tiller.Many of the women who took the oars had been waited on hand and foot all their lives, and were unused to such labour. Raw fear alone drove them. Lil was somewhere in the middle, her arms tight around her sobbing son, swooning from the impact on her face. The woman called, �śCome on now, girls! A steady rhythm. Push-and-pull�Ś Push-and-pull�Ś Push�Ś” Lil turned as they moved further away. The demented screaming of those freezing to death was thankfully beginning to peter out.The lights were out and by now the band was silent, though the screams and shouts of those left stranded on deck still floated across. Her head ached, especially round her eye and queer thoughts danced in and out her mind. All she could see was a vague silhouette looming out of the sea, blotting out the stars and the giant rudder like a beckoning hand, with the three colossal propellers surrounding it. A few random bangs thudded up, muffled from the depths, with the ghastly squealing of metal, setting their teeth on edge and the kak, kak, kak of rivets cannoning out. Soon, all Lil could hear about her were sobs and the chattering of teeth. Robert said, �śMum, we’ve lost everything�Ś” �śNo, we haven’t,” she said, thinking of the woman who had dived overboard in pursuit of her baby, �śwe still have each other.” She kissed his head. They heard a massive rumbling noise. All heads turned to see the ship drop back into the sea, so the propellers and rudder were submerged once more. The impact sent a huge wave that rocked them fiercely, bringing whimpering sounds and crying from some of the smaller children. It looked as though the water had spat it back up again, as if it didn’t want it, but then Molly Brown said softly, �śHer back is broken. The rest will follow. Davy Jones’s locker keeps what it is given.”And it did, scant minutes later. With a sickening roar, the ship was swallowed up forever.� Forty-sevenThey sat on the gentle swell for the next two hours, huddling together to keep warm. Some were crying, though most were too numb, both with the cold and what they had seen and lost, to do anything but wait. Some were in terrible pain, others, who had lost loved ones, were being comforted by fellow survivors.Lil had dozed on and off, groggy with concussion. She dreamed vividly, seeing the ship’s captain swimming up to the boat with the lost baby and delivering it safely aboard, before sinking beneath the sea one last time. She awoke suddenly, her eyes casting around, certain she would see the dripping infant and somebody wrapping it against the chill. Many a time she would snap awake, look briefly at Molly Brown, who never seemed to stop scanning the horizon, nod off, and it would start all over again.When she was fully conscious, she held her sleeping son tighter than ever, determined to do whatever it took to protect him. As her faculties slowly returned, she thought of the money taken from them and fury gripped her. If the thief had survived, she reasoned, he must be in one of the thirteen other lifeboats dotted around them�Ś or in their own. The thought set her heart racing, as much with fear as anger. There were fewer men than women and children. She looked from face to face, in the growing light, seeing their breath pluming, trying to pick him out. There were three men, but he was not among them. Perhaps he had stolen a dead crewman’s uniform, perhaps even murdered him to get it. Perhaps he was even dressed as a woman.She looked across the water, at the other boats, but some were too distant to make out individual features, and a thin mist covered the sea. �śI’m hungry,” Robert muttered. �śWe’re all hungry, sweetheart,” she whispered, tenderly finger-combing his hair. Her attention was taken by a sudden cry. �śThere’s a ship!” Shouts and cries drifted across the water, though it was pointless. The ship must have received the distress call long before their own had gone down, in spite of Lil’s misgivings about the wireless.As it drew near, they could hear its engines slow, and see her name on her side, in simple white letters. Carpathia.� � � � Forty-eightIt was a single funnel Cunard liner, which had been on its way to the Med with seven hundred and fifty passengers on board. They were still sleeping in their cabins.Forty-three-year old Captain Arthur Rostron stood on the bridge, wrapped in his great coat against the freezing cold, though his fingers were numb. Dismayed, he gazed through binoculars at the handful of frail looking boats, some of which he saw were collapsible.A consummate professional, he made scrupulous arrangements for his unwitting visitors. He had ordered the ship’s three doctors to station themselves in the three dining rooms to receive the sick and injured. The Chief Steward had also been ordered to have ready copious amounts of hot coffee, soup, drinks and blankets, while each passageway was manned by a steward, to keep the ship’s passengers off the deck. � ***� Lil and Robert were hoisted aboard with chair slings, while she watched the other survivors the whole time, for anybody acting furtively. She looked for the suitcase too, but couldn’t see it, and knew he had probably transferred the valuables to another container to throw her off the scent. They were huddled in thick grey blankets in one of the restaurants, after guzzling water, in spite of the steward’s warning not to. Now, there were mugs of steaming soup in their hands, though Robert had barely drunk a third of his before he was dead to the world. His head lolled against her breast, as she kept her arm around him.Fourth Officer Joseph Boxhall sat propped against the opposite wall, though there was no sign of Mr Philips, the wireless operator. Boxhall was on the floor, as all seats were taken, knees up by his ears. His head was gashed and his hair was all over the place. His uniform was ruffled and torn. A trickle of blood had dried in one corner of his mouth. His hand shook madly as he raised a cigarette to his lips. She caught his eye briefly. His head dropped and his shoulders shook as he sobbed.A man next to her squirmed in agony and gasped as a grey-haired doctor with a pince nez perched on his thin nose dabbed his mangled finger with iodine. He was apologising softly for the stinging, but insisting too that it would help prevent infection and gangrene.There were a lot of broken arms, legs, and other cuts and grazes that also got the dreaded iodine therapy, making the younger victims howl with pain. Most of the maladies were of frostbite and hypothermia. When the doctor looked at Lil’s black eye and swollen face, he didn’t seem unduly concerned. He was about to move on to the next, more serious case, when she said in a low voice, �śWe’ve had a lot of money stolen from us.” Her voice was gravelly.He glanced back at her, irritated by what he saw, in light of all that had happened, as pettiness. �śYou are alive, madam, and you have your child. Many of these other people are not as fortunate.” He made to move on. �śBut you don’t realise. It’s not just a few shillings or pounds�Ś” She looked around herself, before adding, in an even lower voice, �śIt’s a vast fortune.” He regarded her with even grey eyes. �śEven so, with what has happened, a few hundred pounds�Ś” �śSixty thousand, some in cash, some in�Ś” �śHow much?!”She repeated it and saw him looking once more at the bruising and swelling around her left eye. �śMy job is to minister to the sick and to ease suffering. I’m not a detec�Ś” �śThe thief is on board this ship. He’s already stolen from some of the other passengers, before the ship sank. Please, he’s got to be stopped. He might be disguised as a crewman!”The doctor kept his face deadpan, although she was sure he suspected delirium. She saw the captain walking through, whose eyes too, were red rimmed from lack of sleep. �śPlease!” she whispered, as Robert muttered in his sleep. The doctor stopped the captain, who seemed irritated by the intrusion. She could just make out the doctor saying, �ś�Ś massive blow to her head and she’s got hypothermia. I think she’s imagining it. Well, I ask you, sixty thousand?” He shook his head adding, �śShe has managed to convince herself he has disguised himself as crewman.” The captain looked around the dozens of crewmen in the room.He seemed to relax and said, �śWell, I hope I find the blighter, what, with my salary.” They both laughed.Lil sank back, knowing that nobody was going to believe her. As if to confirm it, the doctor said, a little condescendingly, �śWe’ll keep our eyes peeled, madam, and if we see or hear anything�Ś” She closed her eyes, as she listened to a very well-to-do woman whining because her hands were blistered, where she had had to ply an oar.As the afternoon came, her strength returned. She grew restless and began prowling the ship, above and below, looking from face to face, not caring a damn about acid looks or any restrictions she met below decks. The stewards took one look at her face and seemed to know better than to argue. She wasn’t sure what she would do if she found him, though she knew if she did, it wasn’t wise to shout and scream. She would find a quiet corner and keep a still tongue while she planned and schemed. Lil looked at some of the men so closely and sometimes for so long, her gaze seemed to make them feel uneasy. She had left Robert under supervision with the other children, to give herself more freedom, after he had been told, on pain of death, to keep his mouth shut about the money. She hunted everywhere and slowly began to accept that he may have perished after all. She never did see Philips or the Strauses.Night time came. As it wore on, most of the men slept in the smoking rooms, or even on deck, while the more numerous women were offered the co-use of berths by Carpathia’s passengers. Exhausted by her fruitless search, Lil slept through the whole of that night in one of the staterooms, a luxury afforded her because she had a child. Soon after daybreak, they found their way to the dining saloon, where dozens had already gathered to weep and pray about the misery that had befallen them. Having had enough, she left them to it and took Robert up on deck, where they stood at the rail, seeing the distant sky darkening. The wind was freshening too, so they knew they were riding into a storm. Robert said, as he gripped her hand hard, �śYou said God has decided to punish us.” She looked down into his eyes and whispered, �śYes,” before gazing out to sea again. He held the rail with his other hand and added, �śWhen will he stop?” �śI don’t know!” Then she gritted her teeth in bitterness and regret. �śMaybe never.”As the hours passed, they thought they had missed the storm, until it hit them savagely shortly before midnight, tossing and shaking the small ship like a cork. Sometimes the lights would go out briefly, bringing screaming, as memories of the sinking, bright enough as they were, came alive like freshly lanced boils. Then they would flicker on again and people, already huddled together in their fear, whimpered and screamed as lightning lit everything up in dazzling blue-white bites. The bangs that followed made them jump. The tempest held them in its grip until about three in the morning, when it lifted only briefly, before returning with doubled ferocity. The older survivors were trying to convince everyone they had brought their curse with them, certain that where the iceberg had failed, the squall would finish the job. The storm raged through Wednesday and Thursday too, compounding their misery with a fog so thick, it was impossible to see more than a few yards ahead. Continuous pounding rain kept all but the most resolute inside, who were driven out only by the stench of vomit. The foghorn kept howling too, to warn other ships of their presence, increasing the hysteria on board. It was not until late that afternoon before Captain Rostron, himself weakened, and wanting nothing more than to be on dry land, was relieved to be told the foghorn could be heard off Fire Island. Lil was half dozing, as she sat at a baize-covered table, strewn with cards and empty whisky glasses, long ago abandoned by the men. Robert sat beside her, his head buried in his arms. With their money now seemingly gone forever, she had been thinking about what they should do, when she glimpsed a familiar face passing the porthole on the far side. She felt joy and rage all in one, knowing that with disembarkation imminent, the thief had been forced out of hiding. There was no disguise whatsoever, though he looked extremely pale and drawn. There was a swatch of black, maybe grease, across his right cheek. His centre parting was gone. She realised now how he had managed to elude her for the past three days. He had stowed away, knowing damn well she would be on the prowl, in some nook where nobody would ever think of looking; perhaps the engine room, which would explain the grease mark. It wasn’t hard to imagine how terrible it must have been, with the incessant noise and fumes and the tossing of the storm. Considering the amount of money at stake though, he had probably thought the wretchedness worth it. She looked out of the porthole again, this time past him, at the wild land of America, knowing that in it there were no Marquess of Queensberry Rules. The time had come to cast aside the gloves, as he had, and throw away any notions of fair play.Whatever it took, she would not be beaten again.� Forty-nineHe was wrapped against the chill in a great thick coat, with the same striped suitcase clutched in his hand. He had not tried to disguise it, perhaps thinking that doing so was even more likely to draw attention. The first chance he had, he would bolt, and in the confusion, there would be nothing she could do about it.She knew it was a waste of time approaching the police, who, according to English newspapers, were very corrupt here.The only possible solution came when her eyes lit upon a tough-looking man standing nearby. Half a head above the pink chinless faces and potbellies surrounding him, he gazed at the world from under a wide brimmed hat, through narrow green eyes. Cigar smoke trickled lazily from his lips. Stubble covered his face. The butt of a gun poked from under a long blue jacket, and behind that, a fancy waistcoat and bootlace tie.Truth be told, she didn’t like the look of him one bit, but there was so little time. It was this or nothing. She whispered quickly in Robert’s ear, knowing the part she should play for greater appeal and plausibility. �śYou are the son of a lord, all right?” �śEh?” He looked up. He too looked at her as if she was delirious. �śSsshh. You want the money back, don’t you?” �śCourse I do.” �śThen follow my lead. Call him Sir. Shake his hand. Talk nicely. You know what to do.” She tugged his forearm, sidled over, and said, in a more enunciated voice than usual, �śI’m sorry for staring. It’s just that I’ve not spoken to anybody since�Ś” He nodded to show he understood and regarded them evenly. �śYour son?” �śYes.” She held Robert by his shoulders and pinched one of them lightly in prompt. He glanced up.She sighed as she glared at him, embarrassed. He said, a little parrot-like, �śOh�Ś it’s a pleasure to meet you,” adding, �śSir,” as she pinched him again. Perplexed, he held out his hand, and the man shook it smiling. �śAnd you are?” �śLady Emma DeVere.” She kicked Robert lightly on the ankle, as she saw his head suddenly turn. �śAnd this is Robert DeVere, sole heir to the family fortune, since his father, Major General Oliver De Vere, was killed at Ladysmith, fighting the Boers.” �śI see. My condolences. My name is Jackson Quint. Why are you visiting America?” �śTo start a new life. But�Ś” She let her eyes drop to the swaying deck, as Carpathia eased into the Cunard pier. �śIt’s so humiliating. To have been so stupid, to have let my guard drop. I thought, as I expect you did, that Englishmen were gentlemen but�Ś” �śWhat happened?” Robert piped up without warning, �śSome bastard nicked all our lolly!” She cringed, though after managing a polite laugh, and construing the term �Ślolly’, she explained that her son had, unfortunately, been in contact with the steerage passengers.As the gangplank was being lowered, she said quietly, �śI had intended that as little attention be drawn to us as possible, but I suppose in view of what has happened, we are desperate. Helpless too. What my son told you is true. Since the sale of the family seat in Berkshire, all our worldly goods are in the suitcase the thief carries, mostly cash and jewellery. He stole it from us as the ship was sinking. As of now, we are penniless, with not even the means to escape back home.” She saw the thief, hopping impatiently from foot to foot as he waited, stuck behind a man with bandaged feet being carried slowly from the ship. Then, just as he reached the pier, a man with a camera stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder. Lil heard him say, �śI’m John Gleason, Sir, Hartford Times. Have you a story for me?” As he was trying to blather his way out, she said quickly to Quint, �śHe’s the man who took our money. It’s in the suitcase. Help me get it back and there will be a reward.”She noticed Quint watching the man the whole time, as if absorbing as much detail as he could. The thief must have guessed he was being watched, as she saw him snap something at the reporter, before stalking off, inside the pier itself where everything was lit by huge spot lights. � ***� Quint ran after him, fully aware that Lady DeVere, if that was her real title, could be lying through her teeth. They were on his heels as he gave chase. The thief was almost running by now, as he charged through the crowd, pushing people out of the way.By now, as Quint followed him out onto the road, where thousands had gathered, the man took off in the rain, down the road and into the docks. Quint followed, scared the police might be on his tracks. �śStay where you are,” he shouted. He pulled his revolver from under his jacket, as the man ran into the jungle of concrete and iron that Quint knew like the back of his hand.� ***� Lil soon stopped running, her hands on her knees, as she panted for breath. A stitch dug like a hot blade in her side. Her ankle-length dress and block heels were not conducive to running anyway, and she didn’t like the look of the place Quint had given chase into. �śMum, come on!” �śNo!” There was a coppery taste at the back of her throat. �śWe’ll�Ś we’ll wait�Ś He’ll be back.” She could only stand and watch, as she saw a hazy outline of Quint against distant lights. She was sure they would never see their money again.� � � FiftyQuint stopped and listened hard, as rain trickled from the front of his hat. There was a dead end ahead, with derelict warehouses to his left and a tall wall extending right across to where it ended, twenty feet above the icy water of the Hudson River. The man was trapped, unless he jumped, which would be as good as suicide. After the scuttling of rats had stopped, he could hear the soft patter of rain, and the low whistle of the wind, as it streamed through shattered windows and broken roof slates. The vigil went on for another quarter hour, until he saw a dark shape skulking along, low against the dim distant lights of New Jersey, stopping every so often.He was wearing a long coat that was swinging pendulously, as if heavy. Quint made his way diagonally across, quickly, to be ahead, so he could intercept him. As he grabbed the collar of his coat, the man gave a terrified squawk as Quint drew back the hammer on his gun. Quint watched him gazing along the long barrel of the weapon, pressed against the skin between his eyes, and when he gasped, �śHave it, for God’s sake! Just let me go, please,” Quint frowned, having not expected such quick and easy compliance, even if allowances were made for his gun. As his eyes flicked sideways to where he could see the suitcase being lowered to the ground, he said, �śYou’d better get running, and if you do anything dumb, like telling the cops, believe me, I’ll find you, and I’ll kill you.” �śI won’t, honest, just�Ś” He bolted. Quint grinned as he heard him trip, followed by a splashing sound and cursing, as he sprawled face first in a puddle. He lowered the hammer on his gun and slid it back into its holster, as he looked around to be sure that apart from the writhing form in the wet, he was still alone. Easy pickings, he thought, as he undid the two straps holding the suitcase shut. It was too dark to make the contents out and he daren’t light a match, for fear of being seen. He groped around inside, and although half expecting it, cursed as he felt nothing but layer after layer of clothing. He was about to threaten the thief again, but then, remembering that his coat had looked ridiculously heavy, he had another idea.Amused, he watched as the thief shook the worst of the water off. Just as he started limping away, Quint made his way quickly to him and pressed the barrel of the gun into the nape of his neck, cocked it once more, and said, �śTake off your coat.” �śEh!” Utter shock. �śWhat do you want my clothes for?”Quint pressed the gun harder. �śAll right�Ś all right. I’ll do it.” He removed the heavy garment. �śNow put it on the ground and start walking.” He started off in the direction of the pier. Instead, Quint pushed him in the direction of the river. When they got to the edge, Quint said, �śNow jump.” �śWhat! But it’s�Ś.” �śThat or a big hole in your neck.” He dithered, so Quint gave him a shove. He squealed in terror, his arms pin-wheeling, before hitting the black water with a huge splash. Quint made his way back to the coat, seeing the woman and boy sitting on a low wall, about a hundred yards off, still waiting. Knowing they couldn’t see him, he started going through the pockets and found several dozen small leather bags.He opened one, tipped the contents into his hand and felt his eyes start from his head. It was a necklace of some sort, which he knew from the glittering and weight was worth hundreds of dollars. Other bags held similar treasures. When he put his hand in the other pocket, and pulled out three inch-thick wads of English one-pound notes, he knew he’d stumbled upon the biggest catch of his life. Then his luck got better still, as he found that even after divesting all the pockets, the coat was still absurdly heavy. He groped over the lining. After finding block after block of notes, and even more jewellery, he knew exactly what he was going to do. He put everything back in the coat, except the three wads of notes he had found in the pocket. These he put back in the suitcase, in the middle of the clothing. After this, he looked around for somewhere to hide the coat, where it would stay while he carried out the next part of his plan. He found it in the form of a small wooden barrel. Then, after adjusting his hat, and calming himself down, he wandered back grinning and looking excited. �śWhere’s the boy?” he asked Lady DeVere. �śGone to look at the ships.” He shrugged. �śSo, a reward?” �śYes, of course.” He passed the suitcase across, sat and rubbed his hands together.She clicked it open and groped around the clothing inside, pulling out garment after garment. It took just a second to find the three wads. �śWhere’s the rest?” �śRest of what?” �śThe rest of the money?” He laughed good-naturedly. �śMa’am, that�Ś that’s a fortune. There must be upwards of what�Ś six hundred bucks there? In this town, a seamstress will get just five for a sixty-hour week. There’s more�Ś” �śOh, shut up, Quint!” She threw the clothes on the ground. �śWe left England with tens of thousands more than that. You must have removed the rest�Ś” He looked wounded and opened his mouth as if to speak, but seemed choked on the words. He looked off into the void like a martyr.After about a minute, seething with temper and unable to prove a thing, she broke open a wad with a trembling hand, pulled away about a sixth and handed it to him. �śI’m very sorry,” she whispered, her voice shaking. �śI expect that awful man was in league with somebody else and they have it stashed elsewhere, where neither of us can get it.” He struggled to find his voice, before saying quietly, �śI guess so.” He seemed quickly mollified though, as he took the slim wad, flicked through it, and slipped it in an inside pocket, before pulling out a thin cigar. He bit off the end and put it in his mouth, striking a match on the wall. �śYou’ve more than enough to get a passage home,” he assured her. �śI hope you make out.” He lit the cigar as he stood, exhaled a cloud of smoke and walked off grinning.� ***� A few minutes later, Lil turned to see Robert hidden between several stacks of crates, holding the coat the thief had been wearing and knew then that her suspicions were confirmed.She gazed in the direction Quint had walked, but could see no sign of him. She heard Robert clambering towards her and whispered, �śNo, stay where you are. I’ll follow.” It didn’t take them long to take the money and jewels from the coat and put them in the case. By now the rain had stopped and day was breaking over the harbour. �śWhat are we going to do?” he asked. �śThere is only one thing we can do. We must book a passage home.” His face dropped, so she explained. �śWe can’t stay here. It’s far too dangerous, especially when that man discovers we’ve double-crossed him. In any case, this is a wild country. They carry guns and they aren’t afraid to use them.” She hugged him. �śDon’t worry. We’ll not go back to London. Perhaps we’ll settle in Plymouth, somewhere like that, away from the smoke.” He smiled hugging her back tight.She knew though that boarding another ship was not going to be easy. Questions might be asked, and papers demanded. What if the luggage was searched? How would she explain such a fortune away and what if they confiscated it? After a little hard thinking, she knew there was only one option, and that was to travel home illegitimately, by stowing away, though quite how they were going to do that eluded her for now. �śCome on,” she told him, hearing the sounds of early morning activity beyond the docks. �śWe’ll be much safer among the crowds, especially if we change these clothes for new ones.” � ***� As they were swallowed up in the strange town, Jack Quint took one last puff of his cigar, as he made his way over to the barrel where he had stuffed the coat. His thumbs twitched, as he groped around inside. When he found it empty, he felt as though somebody had thrown ice-cold water in his face. He was so shocked, he even upturned it, so he could confirm its emptiness with his own eyes. He growled, �śShit!” before kicking it. Rats squealed as it landed ten yards away. He looked in circles, thinking at first that the thief must have survived his fall into the Hudson after all. If so, with no change of clothes, he would be in a sorry state and couldn’t have got far. When he walked to the edge however, he saw the drop was even further down than he remembered and that, as far as he could see, which extended at least to the Cunard Pier, a good three hundred yards away, there was no means of climbing back up. He looked over the Carpathia too, though he could see no obvious means of scaling that either. Then he remembered that as the woman had been alone when he had left her, so perhaps the kid had taken the money. He walked over to where she had been sitting and it didn’t take him long to spot the discarded coat. He didn’t even bother picking it up, as he stood there, fuming, gazing beyond the docks, seeing the tall buildings on the edge of the city. His city.Fifty-oneRed-eyed with exhaustion and wanting nothing more than to sleep, Lil and Robert walked into a bank, intending first and foremost to convert some English currency into dollars, but what she saw next, on one of the walls, stopped her dead in her tracks.There was a large poster, recently printed by the White Star Line, with whom she had sailed. Underneath, in equally large letters, were the words, �śTo whom it might concern.”Beneath this was a reward of one hundred English pounds for information as to the whereabouts of the thief who had robbed so many people on the ship. There was a sketch of the suspect too, a good one, and she prickled with recognition; but it wasn’t that of the waiter. It was somebody else she had met, albeit very briefly. Robert recognised him too, but she told him to keep a still tongue.News had travelled fast indeed, which wasn’t, she supposed, surprising, considering the immense standing of some of the people who had sailed. Money clearly talked, and the more there was, the louder it talked. Some of these people were among the richest in the world.She looked around to see if she was being watched, before taking the poster down and rolling it up. She slipped it inside a coat pocket.After changing some pounds into dollars, they found a clothes store that was gloomy in the extreme, with a high ceiling the colour of burned umber. It was strewn with ancient cobwebs, and the odour of mothballs filled the air. A huge wire cage stood in one corner, containing a mynah bird. In boredom, it had pecked out all its own feathers, save those from the neck up. The man who greeted them was thin and elderly, with a black skullcap. He reminded Robert of the corpse in Rice Lane, from whom he had tried to take the pennies.He looked at them through drooping spaniel eyes, and to Robert’s amazement, the bird suddenly cackled out, �śHey brother, can you spare a dime?” �śMum, it talked!” he said, pointing at the bird in shock. �śYes, I know darling.” The shop keeper asked, in a soft voice, �śCan I assist you, ma’am?” She pulled out four ten-dollar bills and asked, �śCan you attire and feed us for this?” The man shook his head from side to side, smiling regretfully, so she produced another note. He spent the next half hour plying his tape measure, as Jack Quint, who had been sitting in a saloon for the last hour, suddenly had a glimmer of inspiration.� ***� Quint had almost resigned himself to the impossibility of ever finding the woman and her brat, when he remembered the suitcase. It was quite a distinctive one, with a stripy pattern, that he remembered thinking unusual. Since she would never be able to board another ship immediately, she would be forced to stay in New York, at least for a few days, and would therefore need food and accommodation. He guessed that, being unfamiliar with her surroundings, she was not likely to stray too far from the harbour. Even if they had the sense to buy new clothes, he guessed they would still be lugging that thing around. The field was narrowing considerably. He grinned to himself as he drained his glass, and dropped the stub of his cigar to the floorboards. An idea was taking shape in his head, but he needed help to make it work. He knew exactly where to get it.� � � Fifty-twoLil and Robert sat at a scrubbed table above the tailor’s, where the man’s stout wife, Mrs Frank, ladled lamb stew onto plates. Her eyes, clouded with cataracts, darted to and from them suspiciously. She hadn’t spoken yet, though they had already guessed her husband, who was literally half her size, lived his life in abject terror. She was a huge boned, big bosomed woman, with abundant grey hair tied back in a bun. Her hands were as large as those of any man. She sawed through a loaf, while they listened to the whirr and clack of the sewing machine downstairs, as her husband effected minor alterations to the garments they had bought. Every so often, the door bell tinged and the mynah bird spoke.After they had eaten, they would have a bath and don their new clothes. By now, Lil had discarded the idea of stowing away as being utterly ridiculous. They would lay low for a few days, to give the impression they had slipped town, before booking passage to England. Half an hour later, she lay back in a cast iron tub and closed her eyes, as Mrs Frank, who had still not uttered a single word, trickled a kettle of scalding water into the far end. � ***� Robert was in the parlour, looking after the suitcase, gazing at a green and red parrot in a cage even bigger than himself. It hung from a fixture on the ceiling and the floor beneath was smothered in discarded seed husks and feathers.It in turn, watched him through eyes of polished jet, while membranes flicked over them occasionally.The room contained several other cages, holding birds of differing sizes, types and colours, but they were boring compared to the parrot, because he knew they couldn’t talk. The parrot stood on a swing, staring at him stupidly, with its beak half open, wing tops raised, as a green and white dropping fell from its rear end. It had made a few semi-intelligible sounds while Robert had stood there; syllables and half-words. �śGo on,” he finally taunted, losing patience. �śTalk! Say something.” It blinked again, and stepped from side to side, wondering what was afoot. �śGo on,” he pushed. �śBetcha can’t.” Nothing happened. Then inspiration gripped him, as he said in a low voice, �śTell you what, say�Ś shit.” It raised the tops of its wings, as if questioning what, �Śshit’ meant, squawked and carried on watching. �śAll right then.” He looked around, to be sure the lady who had been making him nervous wasn’t there, before adding in a whisper, �śSay�Ś fuck!” Nothing happened for a few moments, but then the bird mimicked him with such suddenness and volume, he couldn’t stop laughing even after seeing Mrs Frank looming up behind. She whacked his ear so hard, he nearly fell over. She slapped him again and again, as he stumbled backwards, trying to get away. Her face was a hideous red grimace, her eyes standing out, white and mad. Her teeth were clenched into rows of endless small dirty teeth.He fetched up against a footstool. She grabbed him by the neck as he fell and frogmarched him to a large open Bible on a stand, while his eyes streamed from the pain of his cuffed ears. With her massive fingers digging cruelly into the flesh of his neck, she shoved his face so far into the pages, his nose was pressed into a bulb. He tried to scream, but couldn’t.She was ranting about the sins of vulgarity and cruelty, when he managed to squirm out of her grasp. He darted around to the other side of the varnished stand the gilded book rested upon, heart-skittering, as he gasped for air. She darted after him, with murder on her face. The parrot danced from side to side, bleating words of encouragement. She snatched a thick leather strap from atop an upright piano, knocking over a vase of dried-out flowers in her rush. The glass shattered over the keys, making a tinkling sound.She was chasing him around in circles and lashing him all over, as Jack Quint leaned lazily against a wall, half a mile away, in the most densely populated place on earth, the Lower East Side.� Fifty-threeQuint struck a match on the wall and lit a cigar. The tip glowed like a coal in the shadows, as push carts passed by from all directions, selling absolutely anything.There was a fistfight underway in the apartment above, while across the street, a consumptive retched up pieces of lung and spat them into the gutter. A dog barked out the misery of mange. From another window came the screams of childbirth, and in another, the tinny sound of a gramophone. Terrible singing bleated from somewhere else. Quint grinned as he heard the clang of what might be a frying pan. The singing stopped abruptly. Gunshots punctuated it all, some near, some far, but Quint knew what he wanted to hear.It came towards noon, as he was tossing a quarter to a woman breastfeeding her baby. The coin glinted in the sunlight as it flew, then tinkled and spun as it struck the ground beside her. Her hand crawled out like a dying spider to take it.He drew hard on his cigar, and moved on, his ears focusing in on the source of the noise. It was a running of many feet in an alleyway, youthful shouts, a yell of triumph, and a cry of, �śGet the bastard! He can’t get away.” A gun banged. Quint drew his own piece, as he stood at the corner of the wall, peering around gingerly. A boy of about fifteen, in brown corduroys and with blond hair, was cornered at the far end by six others, three of whom looked Italian. He held a gun at his hip. One of his tormentors hissed, �śYou’re outa bullets,” and another said, �śTell us where it is or you’re dead.” �śIt’s mine. Fuck off!”They were advancing on him, slowly, two of them holding lengths of wood, another a knife. The boy looked terrified, as he turned and started jumping up, to grab the top of the wall. It was too high. Then, as they were about to rush him, a shot rang out. One of the boys went down, screaming, his hand over a cut in his thigh, where Quint’s well-aimed shot had torn it open. Blood started pumping down his leg.He made his way towards them casually, pulling back the hammer on his gun with his thumb. He took his cigar from his mouth with his other hand and cast it away. The youths fanned out, as he aimed at each of them, arm outstretched. They ran, with the bleeding one hobbling behind, shouting they would get him next time. �śYou can lower your piece,” Quint told him, seeing it shaking in the boy’s hand. As he did, Quint could see him fighting back the tears. �śThey nearly got me,” he said miserably. �śThey would have killed me.” He whispered, �śThanks,” as he swung the cylinder out and six empty cartridges fell to the dust. �śWhat do they want?” �śMy money.” �śWhat money?” �śThe two hundred bucks I’ve saved. I’ve got it hidden away. I’m saving up to go to South Africa. If I don’t, I’ll die here.”He wiped his nose and eyes with a tatty sleeve. �śYou’re not wrong there,” Quint assured him, seeing rats tucking into a dead cat nearby. �śBut why South Africa?” �śCos there’s fortunes to be made.” �śSo I’ve heard.” He glanced around again and said pushing back his hat, �śWell, they’re gone. They can’t get you now.” He slipped his gun back into its holster. �śNo but they will.” �śWhat’s your name?” �śBilly Tweed.” �śJack Quint. Come on, let’s get a drink. Then you can tell me all about it.”� ***� They were sitting in a smoky saloon five minutes later, where Quint listened to Billy’s tale above a piano being hammered at the far end by a little pink man in a bowler hat. Several women lounged around with wanton looks in their eyes. Quint knew that for a dollar, a room was free upstairs. Their make up was so thick, it was impossible to tell the age of any of them. Beneath the paint of some, he was sure, were syphilitic sores.It seemed the boy was living in a sort of makeshift orphanage on Mott Street, run by a fat Irishman called �ŚPorky’ Warren. �śHe is a pig too,” Billy grated. He spat. �śDoesn’t like us bettering ourselves. I’ve even taught myself how to read and write�Ś well nearly, and he laughs and says we’re all the sons of whores. He says we’re shit and shit don’t read nuthin.”He rambled on bitterly for some time, about how food and lodging were free, as long as they spent their days relieving the unsuspecting of the contents of their pockets; not here of course, because there was nothing to be had, but mostly in rich lower Manhattan and sometimes beyond. They were paid a small cut to keep their mouths shut. Quint started sketching on a piece of paper, thinking that, where the other kids had quickly frittered their money away, Billy had had the sense to put some by. �śSo how much do you think you need?” �śFive hundred, to book passage, and set me up when I get there.” His eyes took on a dreamy look. �śThen I can go prospectin’ for diamonds.” �śDiamonds?” �śYeah, like the Cullinan they found in ’05. It’s as big as an apple, worth millions and they cut it up�Ś I reckon if a nigger can find one, I can, and then�Ś”Quint eyed the boy’s face, covered in tick and lice bites, briefly. He held his hand up, and said, �śYou can dream all you like, but how long has it taken you to save this two hundred bucks?” �śNearly two years.” He looked down at the stain covered table, feeling more dejected than ever. �śHow would you like to earn the three hundred you need?” Billy looked up so suddenly, he knocked his drink over. The glass rolled off the table and shattered. �śAll you have to do,” Quint told him, �śis go to every tailor and hotel you can find, in and around the harbour and ask if an attractive, well-spoken Englishwoman and a boy of about ten have entered their establishment, carrying this.” He handed him the sketch of a suitcase. �śAnd if they have, where they might be now. They stole it from me and I must have it back, understand?”Billy nodded. �śShe might be going by the name of Lady Emma DeVere, but by now she could be using another. Start as close to the docks as you can and work your way out. If you find them, I’ll give you the money.” Billy felt his mouth drop and whispered, as he gazed at the sketch, �śI’ll find them. I promise you. I’ll find them.”Quint grinned as he drained his glass.� � � � Fifty-fourHe wouldn’t find them above the tailor’s though. When Lil had dressed and seen the cause of the commotion coming from the parlour, she did the only thing she could think of at such short notice. She broke a pot over the woman’s head, shouting, �śLeave my boy alone, you crazy bitch!” before staggering back towards the parrot cage, unsure what might happen next.Robert had darted behind her and was peeking around nervously, as Mrs Frank sat up and shook the shards from her hair. Her face was grazed above the left eye and her lip was cut, but even that didn’t deter her. She was up in an instant. She snatched up the strap and flew at both of them, screaming and lashing out blindly. Lil parried her blows and sent her flying headlong into a jardinière, which crashed to the floor, where she lay dazed among the wreckage. Her thick stockings and skirts were rucked up, while dried out petals festooned her head and shoulders. As the parrot squawked in delight, Lil grabbed the suitcase and they bolted out the room before she could recover. As they were charging down the stairs, they collided with Mr Frank who was about to investigate, nearly knocking him flying. It wasn’t till they had run through the throng, as storm clouds were gathering, that they collapsed into each other’s arms. It seemed hilarious and surreal now they were safe. As they felt the patter of drops around them though, Robert asked, �śWhere should we go now?” �śA hotel, and this time, we’ll stay there for a week.” With the euphoria subsiding and still without a disguise, that naked feeling was creeping back. There were hundreds of people about. � ***� Quint could be anywhere among them, though by sheer coincidence, Billy Tweed passed by as he emerged from another tailor’s, after getting the same response he had in every place he’d been to so far; a shaking head. He kept on walking, the disappointment pricking more at every rebuff, but with the feeling he was getting a mite closer every time. He was forced into a pawnbroker’s by the sudden downpour. When the rain had slowed to a trickle, he resumed his search. Another quarter hour passed before he walked into Frank’s Tailors, to see the little owner holding his bruised nose. He pulled the sketch from his pocket. Seeing it, Mrs Frank strutted across, with such anger on her face, he thought she was going to hit him. She was dabbing blood away from her lip with a wad of cloth. She recognised the case instantly. Her husband flinched out of her way, as she snatched it and stared. Billy knew before he’d even asked his question that he’d struck gold, and lots of it. �śEnglish woman and a kid,” she hissed, going red in the face, as she cast the drawing back. �śTouched in the head, crazy, terrorising a frail old lady’s like me.” For a moment, she looked utterly woebegone.Then she suddenly rounded on her husband, who could see the bridge of his own nose and he flinched back as she raised her meaty hand. �śWhere’d they go, and when?” Billy asked. �śFew minutes since,” she said, lowering her hand, but Billy heard no more as he charged out onto the street, nearly knocking a passing priest flying. He looked in both directions, knowing they couldn’t have got far. He was unprepared for the strange accent that came to him through the masses. He had heard a woman say, �ś�Ś two weeks if I think it necessary.” He caught a glimpse of the same stripy pattern on the scrap of paper he held in his hand and grinned as he saw them enter a small hotel. � � � � � � � � � Fifty-fiveThe lobby was cold and drab, paint hanging from the walls in long strips. Dust was thick on everything. A Union flag, from the Civil War, torn here and there by shrapnel and bullets, hung above the door that led to the owner’s private quarters. A battle-scarred Springfield musket was wired to the wall on the other side, with a fixed bayonet that still carried the rust of dried blood.Robert couldn’t take his eyes from the elderly man behind the counter, as his mother talked with him. He saw that half the man’s nose was missing because a Confederate musket ball had struck him during the Battle of Gettysburg, before creasing his face and taking a chunk of his ear away.He regarded them through tired eyes, before saying, �śTwo dollars for each night.” �śThat’s fine,” Lil said.As he opened the door to their room, Billy Tweed was making his way back to the hovel he called home, certain she was going to stay there at least one more night. � ***� As the door closed behind them, Robert Smith was looking at a massive cockroach. The room, smelling of ancient sweat, was infested with them. This specimen was a good two inches long and looked as though it had bubbly faeces beneath its brown, shiny shell. He’d never seen one before, though he’d seen plenty of bed bugs in friends’ homes. There were plenty of them here too.He spent some time tormenting the cockroach, as it ran this way and that, being thwarted each time by his hand. He eventually got bored and walloped it with a dusty Bible he had found on the table by the bed. It crunched and its guts squirted everywhere. Lil scolded him for cruelty and feeling repulsed by the mess, insisted he wash himself down in the cracked sink, before lying down to sleep.There were fleas too, and the stained bed sheets smelt. They would have run from the hotel there and then, were they not so crushed and so scared that Quint would be waiting for them.� ***� Half a mile away, Billy Tweed, who was well used to cockroaches, nervously gazed up at the soot stained front of what was loosely known as Porky’s Boarding House. To the side of the fixed iron ladder leading up to it, stood a Catholic altar, one of the many shrines for the feasts held annually to honour the patron saint of each Italian community. A sole candle glowed from within. It was a world away from the laughing and cheering coming from above, probably where one of the weaker kids, most likely �ŚIdiot Boy’ was being harassed yet again. Billy had spent the last three years of his life here, since his mother had died of typhoid fever, living purely by his wits and sometimes his fists. They were all so absorbed, that Billy, though repulsed by it, seized his chance, and made his way directly to where his money was hidden, behind a short length of skirting board. He pulled the small clasp knife he carried from his trouser pocket to prize the timber back. He put it to one side, just as he heard a howl of pain and knew that Idiot Boy had got stung again with the hornet Tony Rosini, one of the bullies, was keeping in a jar. The extra distraction was a welcome bonus though, as he stuck his hand in the hole. Just as his fingertips brushed the notes though, all went deathly quiet, apart from Idiot Boy’s sobbing. He felt the honed steel of a blade against his throat. �śNow get up, slowly,” hissed a voice, �śand pass it over, or I’ll kill you.” It wasn’t Rosini’s voice, but another’s, though it all amounted to the same thing. He stood, slowly, with the boy keeping the blade pressed to his throat the whole time. �śNow we know where you’ve been stashing it. No�Ś don’t move, ’cept to hand it over�Ś no sudden movements.” Billy passed the wad carefully backwards and felt it vanish from his hand, feeling tearful as it did. His humiliation and anger were made all the worse by the triumphant cheer that went up. �śThank you,” the boy told him, in mock gratitude. He was about to say something else, as he took the blade from Billy’s neck, when Billy’s own knife flashed in the candlelight.The thug doubled up as though a branding iron had been laid against his stomach. He staggered back in shock, looking down as he dropped the money. A six-inch slit ran upwards from about three inches below his navel, to about the same distance above. Blood gushed out, spilling down his bare legs, and outwards, in spurts, to where it splattered over the floor. He threw his own knife, but missed. It hit the door and stood quivering in the wood. Billy snatched up his money and backed off. His eyes were on the boy as he collapsed onto his knees, as he tried to push the two halves of the cut together. Billy held the knife out, daring anybody else to come near, before whipping the door open. Porky Warren stood there, in a bright chequered suit, with a lit candelabra. They stared at each other for a couple of seconds, before Billy thumped him in the face. He leapt over him as he went down and tore off, down the three flights of stairs, to the ground floor. The door was locked. He kicked it several times, before it gave. Then he was gone, through the crowds, and off into the night.� � � � � � � � � � � Fifty-sixBilly stopped running after several hundred yards and ducked behind some barrels outside a saloon. Dull light spilled from the windows. As his breathing steadied, he started to shake, not knowing whether he’d killed the boy or not. He looked at the money and wiped spots of blood from the top one with his sleeve, smearing it in dark streaks. Gritting his teeth against the waste, he pulled the note clear, knowing there would be a hue and cry very soon. Blood-covered money would bring them down upon him quicker than ever. He crunched it up, threw it in the barrel and listened as he waited. He could hear the sound of voices and laughter from within. These were typically big tough men, more often of the older generation, who could remember far wilder times, where justice was meted out at the end of a bullet or the hangman’s rope. They would come after him mercilessly if there was a reward in the offing. An hour passed. By this time, although he’d not heard any commotion, he didn’t trust the quietness either. Anybody could be out there in the shadows, biding their time. The men came out the saloon in dribs and drabs. He smelt cigar smoke so strongly as one of them passed, his breath was locked in his throat, convinced a big hand would grab the scruff of his neck, or he would feel the business end of a revolver in his ribs. It didn’t happen, though he heard a sigh of relief as one of them urinated against the other side of the barrel. After this he was alone once more. He peered out, but could see nobody about, apart from one or two tramps, dead to the world.Soon there was a lot of activity. Two-horse drawn wagons of the fire brigade charged past, with their bells clanging madly. The firemen in their black uniforms and brass enamelled helmets hung on for grim life. Billy was glad of the diversion and soon got his bearings. He quickly made his way to the hotel the woman and child were staying in. Terrified he could be spotted at any moment, and with dawn breaking, he studied the building from the other side of the road. It was terraced, with no alley either side. He hunted for a way in from the front, even though his instincts were telling him to lay low, and come back the following evening, when he would have many more hours to play with. If he did that though, it was possible they could check out at first light and go elsewhere. He didn’t relish the thought of following them, if the police were on the lookout.He made his way across and saw two halves of a trap door in front, where he assumed goods were delivered in bulk. Each half had a flush metal grab handle. Although immensely heavy, he managed to lift one and swing it over onto the ground. Feeling conspicuous, he laid on his belly and looked inside to see if there was a ladder to stand on while he pulled the trap door closed. He saw one and lowered himself onto it. He reached over as far as he could, to grab the trap door at its furthest point and pulled as hard as he could. It was not designed to be closed from the inside and needed much more effort. By the time it was edge on to the ground, he felt as though his shoulder would explode with the strain. As it passed the point of no return though, gravity took over. It swung shut so suddenly that after braining him he was thrust to the bottom of the cellar where he crashed among several crates containing tea leaves and another full of flour, which exploded like a big white bomb. Then, in the darkness, both of the room and his concussion, he saw nothing for nearly ten minutes.When he blinked his eyes open, he had the headache from hell. Mellow light from a candle filled the brick-lined cellar where he was lying on his back. A hessian sack was folded under his head. Everything, himself included, was covered with flour. It took a minute more for rational thought to come back, instead of the bizarre dreams that had been assailing him. Then he knew he couldn’t be alone. He craned his throbbing head up and looked to the far end of the room. A man sat astride a small barrel, vaguely white, where he had beaten as much flour from himself as possible, with an unlit cigar stuck in his grinning mouth. His hat lay, upside down, on a stool by his side.It was Jack Quint and Billy was so relieved to see him, he sank back on the sack and closed his eyes, until he heard the click of his gun being cocked.� � � � � � � � � � � Fifty-sevenThere was a loud scratch as he struck a match on the wood between his legs, before lighting his cigar. It glowed brightly as it took. �śBeen tailin’ you the whole time,” he said. �śNow you’ve brought me to her, I don’t need you any more.” He grinned as he flicked the match at him. Billy swallowed hard, as it landed with a click beside him. It was a while before he spoke. �śI was gonna share it, you�Ś” He tailed off, groaning, the pain in his head feeling like an iron spike being banged in with a sledge hammer. �śAnyway, it’s not your money.” �śNor yours neither,” Quint reminded him. �śNor, I’ll wager, that woman’s. If she’s Lady Emma DeVere, I’m Abe Lincoln.” Billy reached up weakly and felt the protuberance poking like a blunt horn from the centre of his skull. He closed his eyes and lay back groaning, not caring less who she was. �śI’ll bet there’s a dent in that trap,” Quint told him. �śBut nowhere near as big as the one you’ll have in your neck, when they get you for murder.” Billy’s eyes widened as he propped himself up on his elbows. He remembered the Fire Brigade and that Warren had been holding a lit candelabrum when he’d punched him. Most of all, he recalled the blood spilling from the bully’s belly. �śYou burned the whole place down. Lots of people dead. There are wanted posters being printed as we speak, dead or alive, nobody cares, so long as they get you. You won’t stand a chance. Course, nobody wants to see a kid having his neck snapped, so I’m going to offer you what I think is a generous deal.” Fuming, but scared too, Billy asked sullenly, �śWhat’s that?” �śYou forget what’s in the bag above us, climb the ladder and do a quick disappearing act, while it’s still dark. Do that and I’ll keep my mouth forever shut.” Billy swallowed hard. He hadn’t come this far to quit just like that. That money was his, and if he did as Quint told him, he would be in the streets once more, with no home at all and could easily be caught anyway. �śAnd if I refuse?” Quint shrugged. �śWell, you’re a bright kid. You know there’s no option. In any case, I could shoot you dead here and now, and claim the reward for myself, after I’ve collected what’s due to me here. A thousand bucks, that’s what’s on offer for your head, and for a single, five cent bullet, and very little effort, it’s certainly tempting.” He took a final leisurely pull on his cigar, before dropping it to the ground and grinding it under his boot. He pulled a fob watch from his waistcoat, flicked it open, and said, �śA minute shy of half past four. Sun’ll be up soon.” Billy glared at him as he snapped the time piece shut. He looked around the cellar for something, anything, he could throw at him, but knew he was clutching at straws. His mind was finally made up, when Quint said, �śI’ll count backwards from ten, and by then, you’d better have started climbing.” Billy got himself up, seething, as he steadied himself. Excess flour wafted about, making him cough. Another thought struck him. Almost knowing what he was going to find, he thrust his hand into his trouser pocket. It met nothing but the lining. He tried the other with the same result. He shook with fury as he saw Quint reach into his hat and pull from it the money he had taken so long to save and for which he committed murder. �śLooking for this?” For a split second, Billy was tempted to rush him. He considered begging for his money, but knew that was the humiliation Quint wanted to see and laugh at. Quint said, �śTen,” and yawned theatrically. Billy glared at him, and rasped, as he put his foot on the first rung of the ladder, �śYou’ll not get away with this, you�Ś” �śNine.” Billy grasped the rung in front of his face and pulled himself up. �śI’ll be even with you yet.” Brief laughter. �śBoy, I really don’t think so. Eight.” His temples pounded with rage, as he started climbing. He kept his lips tight shut, so that at least Quint couldn’t taunt him any more. He was determined though, that he wouldn’t get away without at least getting a bloody nose. When he reached the top, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes, he pushed the trapdoor up slowly, looking through the crack to see if anybody was watching, and waiting. He heard Quint say, �śFour,” as he pushed it all the way, careful this time not to allow the heavy wooden square to thud down on the surrounding ground. He could see a patch of blood in the middle and it infuriated him all the more. It was getting light. As he clambered out, the crisp air struck him, invigorating and fuelling him, not just with hate, but positive resolution too. He knew his life had reached a pivotal point, where it would go one way or the other and it was up to him which. By now, there were a few people about. He looked at his shirt sleeves, and trousers and was struck by how white they still were from the flour that had covered him. He looked like a ghost. He would never mingle into a crowd looking like this, so he ran to the end of the street, patting himself all over, leaving a white cloud. He wondered how long it would be before the wanted posters were pasted up. He hid himself in the doorway of a cigar shop as he pounded himself more vigorously. He ruffled his hair too, to get rid of as much of the white powder as possible. His brain was in overdrive as he watched the dusty street getting lighter and more populated by the minute. Soon, there was only one way out he could see.� ***� Quint knew he had to move fast too, for it was gone five. The hotel would come to life very soon, if it hadn’t already. There was a flight of stone steps leading up to another door, though he wasn’t sure what lay ahead of it. He took the candle and held it side on while he dripped wax onto a piece of broken tile. He pressed the candle onto it, climbed as quietly as he could and slowly turned the knob when he reached the top. It was locked. He closed his eyes in frustration. Then something happened so suddenly, he nearly tumbled back down. The door was opened from the other side.� � � Fifty-eightBilly Tweed felt as though he shone as people walked past. Not daring to show his face, he had turned to look at the door, but there was still enough flour on his rear to mark him out. The glass of the door was half covered with a large poster advertising Havana cigars. Other smaller advertisements spoke of cheaper brands. He knew that when the door opened, he would have to be very quick with his plan. It was crude to the point of recklessness, but he had no other choice. He was damned if he was going to kowtow and let this gangster rob him of his future. With this in mind, he was counting on some shrivelled old timer owning the establishment, with terrible eyesight and restricted movement. When he saw what could only be described as a shaved bear appear the other side, he wondered if his luck could get any worse. Knowing he had no alternative than to stay where he was, he watched as the giant turned a key in the lock, before pulling the door towards him, where it flicked a brass bell. He just stood there, staring at him, not saying anything, completely blocking the entrance. The next emotion Billy felt was not fear, but puzzlement.A smaller hand appeared from behind, took the giant’s forearm and gently pulled him backwards, though his eyes never moved. An older man of about fifty appeared, with a bushy moustache, wearing spectacles, below a head of curly smarmed-down dark hair. He waved his fist at the younger man, as he growled, �śGod damn you, Sylvester! How many times do I have to tell you to let customers pass yonder, ’stead of terrifyin’ ’em?” He indicated the inner sanctum of the store. Billy made his way in quickly, glad to be off the street, and away from all those eyes. The store smelt sweetly of tobacco and was stacked with every variety imaginable, from short thin cigars, in side-on tin-plate drums, of about two hundred, to great individually wrapped specimens, eight inches long, with price tags of three dollars or more. Three square pillars stood at equal distance from each other, from floor to ceiling, with shelves at waist height, circling them. They were stacked with packs of cigarettes, and yet more cigars. Huge glass containers stood on the counter, filled to varying levels with pipe tobacco, depending on their popularity. The man was looking up at the giant, with not a trace of fear, leaving Billy wondering if he had something wrong with his mind. The younger man could kill him with a single punch if he wanted to, for he must outweigh him by at least six stone. As tough as he appeared though, he looked close to tears. �śIt’s all right,” the older man said kindly, looking up at the blank face, and patting his arm. �śEverything will be fine. You go out back now and fetch a broom and do some sweepin’, do y’hear?” The man shambled off without saying a word. �śMy apologies, boy.” He stuck out his hand. Surprised, Billy shook it. �śSamuel Sullivan,” he said. �śProprietor of the United Ceegar Stores Company. Just call me Sam. That there’s m’son.” He jerked his head as the giant came back through, plying a broom here and there. Billy was about to introduce himself, but thinking of the wanted posters, his mouth stopped, half open. �śCat got your tongue?” �śNo, I er�Ś” �śYou in some kinda trouble?” Sullivan removed his spectacles and regarded him suspiciously. Billy knew he was cornered. �śI guess so.” He hung his head. �śThought as much.” Sullivan shook his head and laughed. �śLook at you, barely off yer momma’s tit and up to your asshole in the mire, or should I say the flour. What’d you do, rob a baker’s?” Billy blushed through the white, as he mumbled, �śNo, I�Ś er�Ś” �śSave it! Don’t wanna hear. But just remember,” he wagged a solemn finger, �ścross me in the same way, an’ yer ear’ll be smartin’ ’til hell freezes over, understand?” Billy nodded. �śHere about the job?” Startled, Billy took a step back, as next door, Jack Quint finished tying his belt around a sixteen-year-old girl’s ankles. � � � � Fifty-nineHe had fastened her wrists with his boot lace tie, and warned her at the point of his gun not to scream. She had been so frightened anyway, it was probably unnecessary. In the candle light of the cellar, she looked up through wide eyes. �śNow you listen to me, missy, and listen good. I’m not gonna hurt you, ’less you refuse to co-operate. Make one sound out of place, I’ll decorate the wall with your brains, get me?” She nodded quickly. �śYou have a woman and a kid staying here. She’s very attractive, carries herself well, late twenties, early thirties; the kid, a boy, nine or ten. They’re English. She might be going under the name of Lady Emma DeVere�Ś” �śYes,” she gasped, feeling a little less nervous, knowing for sure now that he meant her no harm. She remembered their strange accents, though the name DeVere was unfamiliar. She was almost sure the woman had used the name Brookes, but it was her all right. �śWhich room are they staying in?” �śNumber seven.” He stuffed his handkerchief in her mouth and she tried to scream through it. �śFor your own good,” he told her, pushing back his hat. �śIn case you be telling’ lies, ’cos if you are, I’ll just have to come back down here, and�Ś” He spun the chamber on his gun. It clicked madly as it turned until he stopped it with his thumb. He slipped it back under his jacket, and gave her a last warning glance before heading again for the door. He climbed the steps, and opened the door very carefully. He had reached the lobby. He could see a Union flag hanging like a tired hand over the portal to the back and a dried-out musket next to it. He saw a row of hooks with keys next to it and that the one for number seven was missing. � ***� �śYeah, my pa told me that unless I find a proper job, I could go and live in the street with the rats,” said Billy Tweed. Sullivan nodded and eyed him warily. He pulled a couple of cheap cigars from one of the metal drums. He pulled a match from his shirt pocket, struck it on the pillar and lit the tip of Billy’s cigar. Billy inhaled and was on the floor instantly, hacking, choking and going red in the face. The cigar tumbled end over end, landing on its tip in a shower of sparks. Sullivan put his shoe down to extinguish it and slowly moved behind Billy, hauling him up and pounding him between the shoulder blades.Tears poured down Billy’s face, as he heaved for breath. �śHoly Moses!” Sullivan said as his breathing slowly evened out. �śYou ain’t no use to no one, dead as a door nail. You OK?” Billy nodded and smiled a ghastly smile. A long dribble hung from his lower lip. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. �śSylvester, fetch some water.” Sylvester shook his shiny head and Sullivan smacked himself on the forehead as he remembered the tap had ceased up. �śLemonade, then.” He tossed him a dime. Sylvester disappeared through the door, but was back inside a minute, with a sheet of paper rolled up in his hand. Billy knew, even before Sullivan unrolled it, what it was�Ś� SixtyBilly Tweed felt both his legs go soft under him. He was telling them to run, yet his brain was warning him that to do so was the surest route to the grave. He had the impression Sullivan could easily take care of himself. He was wiry beneath the face that was only lined because he seen more in his fifty odd years than God might have thought good for him. He was holding the wanted poster top and bottom, between fingers and thumbs, as he took in the words �ŚDEAD or ALIVE $1000’.It would take three months of good trade to earn that. The sheet carried other information too, including the crime he was accused of. Sylvester was getting animated about the front and profile photographs and Billy knew in an instant that if a simpleton like this could recognise him , anybody could. Sullivan snapped, �śYou hush now, ’less you want to forfeit yer supper!” He rolled the document up, sighing and shaking his head. He didn’t speak for a full minute as he regarded Billy evenly. Billy was willing him to say something, anything. At last he said to Sylvester, �śSon, carry on with your sweepin’, and if anybody comes here, you keep your lip buttoned up, understand?” Then he inclined his head at Billy, to indicate he should follow. They walked through into a kitchen, where there was a massive sink piled either side with crockery. Billy followed Sullivan up some stairs, already guessing he wasn’t about to turn him in. At last, they were in a small parlour. The first thing Sullivan did was pick up a silver-framed photograph from the top of an upright piano. He stared at it silently for a few reflective moments, before saying, �śThat’s my Ruth.” He passed it over. �śShe was murdered by a kid who broke in one night and cut her throat for a ten-dollar gold ring.” His eyes began to well up. He took the picture back and rubbed it gently with the sleeve of his shirt, before replacing it. �śI tried my damnedest to stop the bleedin’, but the angels took her. I caught the kid myself. No older than you, maybe younger, but, by sweet Jesus, I made him talk. He was sent here by no other than Porky Warren himself, from the same place you’re on the run from now, and now he’s finally got the justice he deserved.”Billy felt such a lightness of heart he could have cried. �śSo you’re not going to turn me in?” �śI guess not, for the time bein’, but I ain’t no soft touch either, and I ain’t stupid. Common knowledge, it was a bad place, but you got a full belly and a bed of a night. The streets are hell by comparison, so why d’you run?” Billy knew he’d reached a dead end. Certain he wouldn’t see a cent of that money without Sullivan’s help, he told the whole story, while close by, Jack Quint made his way along a landing with a sash window at the far end. � ***� As Quint stood opposite room seven, he was aware too that other guests would be coming out of their rooms soon, so he would have to be quick. First, he put his ear to it, but could hear nothing. He tried the brass knob. The door was locked, so he kicked it as hard as he could. The door flew back on its hinges with a juddering bang. He walked in, with his gun held at the hip, certain the entire fortune was there for the taking. But the room was empty. He cussed in frustration and smashed his left fist through the worm-eaten wardrobe door. He heard the sound of voices from somewhere downstairs; probably the police. Seeing no other way out, but the way he had come, he tried to lift the sash window to escape that way. It was jammed shut.Near to panic, he drew his gun, intending to fight his way out, but then noticed a trapdoor in the ceiling.After re-holstering his gun, he drew out a chair from the dressing table, climbed up, and pushed the trap door open. It was hinged, and he squirmed as it made a bang as it fell onto the rafters. He coughed as he batted away some dust that came down.He pulled himself up, and hearing the pounding of feet up the stairs, was about to close the trap, when he remembered the chair.It would give him away in an instant, left where it was; but it was too big to fit through the hole. Then he had a flash of inspiration.Lying on his belly, he was just able to reach it.He lifted it up, and swung it as hard as he could through the window.Not only did that get rid of it, he thought, but they would also think he had escaped that way.He closed the trap carefully, and grinned in the dark, as he heard them charging into the room.� Sixty-oneSam Sullivan was speechless, after Billy told him of the vast fortune he believed to be in the suitcase depicted in the drawing he held at arm’s length. Initially, he reckoned that in the panic of the ship’s sinking, she must have gathered it from the unsuspecting, most of whom were now dead, probably by ransacking their cabins after they were evacuated from them.A voracious newspaper reader, Sam had soaked up all he could about the disaster.The Hartford Times, Sam’s favourite journal, mainly because of its staunchly Republican views, had run an article about the on-board thief; a short piece that many people would have overlooked, as being secondary to the disaster itself. The article had stated that he (it was always he Sam noticed) had absconded with enough wealth, �śto fight the Republican campaign in the fall”.Why should it be a he, Sam thought now, having sniggered at the thin wit. Why shouldn’t it be a woman?What better cover was there, especially with a kid in tow?Or�Ś.perhaps she wasn’t a thief at all.From what Billy had told him, she sounded very well-to-do herself.Was she on the run for other, more innocent reasons?Did she need protecting, in this foreign, harsh land? And the most poignant question of all; did he want the death of another beautiful woman on his conscience, if he could prevent it?He didn’t think so.He needed to catch up with her, and quickly.� ***� Jack Quint thought so too, as he looked through a large hole in the rotting wood, where the guttering had long since fallen away. There was a small, overgrown yard beneath. The chair lay on its side among the broken glass. Thankfully, the hotel overlooked the rear end of another, much taller building, with no windows, that he guessed was a factory of some sort. The yard was surrounded by a tall crumbling, ivy-covered wall, and he knew that it wouldn’t take a genius to imagine that that was the way he had gone.� ***� As the police entered the room below, and started ransacking it, Lil Smith was looking herself up and down in a long mirror, amazed at the transformation unthinkable scant weeks ago.To send out a message to the world that she would never be at the mercy of any man again, she wore a pair of hand stitched platform hide boots, topped with a tan coloured dress with white fringing, while a broad, low crowned hat adorned her head. Her blonde hair hung to her shoulders. She stood around five ten in the boots and, as she gazed at herself, she thought she looked a force to be reckoned with, unlike the down-trodden wife who was beaten and raped by her slob of a husband, a continent and a lifetime away. They had left the hotel at three in the morning, when the itching had become intolerable and Robert had woken up screaming with a cockroach resting on his face.The store was on the outskirts of the city. After studying a map of the eastern seaboard of the United States, pinned to one of the walls, she had told Robert of her plan to escape New York altogether. They would move inland, probably south, to where it would be warmer, but he cut her off by snapping, �śMum, I don’t want to run any more!” She looked at him critically. He looked completely drained, but she knew they had no choice but to keep on moving. �śI’m afraid we’ve got to.” �śNo, we haven’t. I’m tired. I want to go home!” He was close to tears. �śThis is our home now. Don’t you understand? At least for the next few years.” He looked at her as though she’d punched him, so she said more softly, �śDo you remember Mr King, the landlord?” He nodded. �śThis man is just like him. He’ll keep on coming and coming, and he absolutely will not stop until he gets the money, and he won’t flinch from killing us to get it. This isn’t England. Life isn’t worth a carrot here, so to survive, we must be like him, understand?” He nodded grudgingly. Her eyes were moist as she crouched before him and said, as she held his shoulders, �śWe’ve fought all our lives. We’ve been pushed about, never knowing where our next meal will come from, or whether we will have clothes on our backs, or a roof over our heads the next day. So this time, we’re going to win! All right?” She gripped him harder and stared into his brown eyes, knowing she would kill anybody who so much as touched him. �śNow, the last thing he expects us to do is to move inland. Do you agree?” He nodded. �śS’pose so.” �śGood boy. Then one day we’ll find another port, somewhere else, and then we will go home, this time without worry.” He nodded again. It sounded so simple�Ś� � � � � � � Sixty-twoQuint ducked back as he saw two peaked caps suddenly poking out from the smashed window below; both of them cops. He could hear their conversation quite clearly. �śCunning bastard!” said one. He sounded like he was the senior of the two.Quint heard him spit out a mouthful of chewing tobacco. �śSee his style, Clarke? Smashes this window to make us think he escaped this way, and so waste valuable time. Well, we ain’t gonna be fooled. Kinda obvious what he did next, don’t yer think?”.There was a long pause, as if he was trying to get the younger man to work it out for himself. Then he laughed, and said, as he smacked his forehead, �śDon’t you worry. You don’t understand the criminal mind yet, green as you are. This is how I figure it. He put the chair through the glass, to draw our attention, and then went back the way he came. You see, Clarke, it’s what I got up here, boy, that got me mah stripes, brains, and lots of ’em, like you’ll have one day, you care to watch and listen. Then, when you’ve earned ’em, you’ll be a true professional, just like me.” �śBut�Ś er, shouldn’t we, well, you know�Ś just check?”Quint closed his eyes cringing, knowing which of them should be wearing the stripes. �śDamn you, boy! Don’t you ever listen to nuthin? I done near fifteen years, afore you was even a twinklin’ in yer daddy’s loins, let alone yer mumma’s, so don’t you never contra�Ś” �śSorry, boss.” Quint felt his heart slow down as they went back inside, and could imagine the greenhorn watching the posturing sergeant with open-mouthed admiration, as he threw back his shoulders, and tucked his thumbs into his Sam Browne belt. He sank back against the inner brickwork, relieved, but frustrated too, knowing the longer he waited, the further away the woman and kid were going to get. � ***� As Quint was tuning his ears into building below, for noise, Sam Sullivan and Billy Tweed were looking out the window above the cigar shop, as Sam stuffed his favourite pipe; the one he was sure imbued him with inspiration. He had a rack containing six others above the mantelpiece, each of which were smoked depending on the mood he was in. Sometimes, when he was melancholy, his thick briar was puffed. Today it was his meerschaum with the amber stem. Aromatic smoke drifted in swathes around Billy’s head. They had heard the window breaking and the shouts, before seeing a young woman being helped to walk by two police officers. Sam recognised her as the hotel maid, with a blanket around her shoulders. He knew there was no other exit from the hotel except out through the front door, so he knew it possible that Quint had hidden himself away somewhere inside until the cops moved on. They saw the other guests leave every so often, but when the woman and child never appeared, they guessed they must have left before Quint had even turned up. � ***� Billy could see no future without that money. Worse, this man might decide to turn him in for a nice easy thousand bucks after all, if he decided the woman wasn’t worth pursuing. While they had been watching, he had asked Sullivan, more to test the waters than anything, what the job here entailed, just in case. After all, anything would be better than the streets. It was, as he had suspected, as a counter assistant, with no prospects whatsoever. It started to get dark. Billy turned to see Sullivan tapping out his pipe in the hearth, his brow creased in concentration, as he thought. Billy felt defeated as he watched him, sure that if Quint had escaped, they would never catch up with him. He was probably near them already and would kill anybody who tried to interfere. Over the next few hours, each of them took odd peeks out the window in case he appeared. Billy found himself seething once more at the way Quint had humiliated him. He said, �śI’m already wanted for murder. I know if they get me, I won’t stand a chance, so it won’t matter if I kill again, will it?” �śI guess not,” Sullivan said, as he blew along the stem. Satisfied it was clean, he replaced it in the rack with the others. Without turning, he asked, �śWho’re you intendin’ to kill?” �śQuint!” He punched the palm of one hand with his fist, as his temples pounded with fury. Sullivan nodded, chewing his lip, as unpleasant memories were stirred. He turned. �śEver shot a man?” �śNo, but I will!” Billy punched his palm again. �śYou seem a decent enough kid to me, and if what you’ve told me about the events of last night are completely true, then you were provoked before you slit that kid’s belly, and it was a genuine accident when the place�Ś” �śIt was an accident, I swear on my mother’s memory.” He crossed his chest several times, though he knew, as well as Sullivan, that no court in the land would ever believe it. �śI don’t doubt you, boy, but�Ś you shoot this man, however much you hate him, it won’t be an accident and you will have to live with it. Think you can do that?” Billy said nothing. �śI shot a man once and I mean once, down south, in a dusty street outside Santa Fe. No witnesses and nobody ever knew I did it. I even kept it from Ruth. I was a Deputy Marshal and the man was a murderer, by the name of Ross McKenna. �śI’d been on his trail for more than a month. That was the day I tossed my badge away forever. I swore I would never kill a human being again, whatever they did. Want to know why?” Billy was looking at the pipe rack. �śI shot him through the gut. Not deliberately. Thought I was aimin’ for his heart. It would have been a mercy. I don’t hold with hangin’ no matter what a man is guilty of, since I saw it done once. Stead of his heart though, the slug hit him ’bout three inches to the side of his belly button, here!” He reached out and prodded Billy’s stomach. �śI sat there for hours, listen to his groanin’ and beggin’ as he called out for his mumma and the Good Lord. Had to put my hands over my ears. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t work up enough guts to put him out of his misery. Thought I might get Jesus when he finally crawled behind some bushes to die, but I never did. Boy, I was a coward! Mounted up m’horse and left him. Plagued me ever since.” He saw the boy’s Adam’s apple bob up and down as he gulped. �śDid he die?” �śMust have. Don’t know what the state o’ play with medicine is now, but back then, if you were gut shot, you died.” He leaned forward and added, �śAnd, let me tell you, in great pain. When you shoot a man, it ain’t pretty and Jesus won’t love you for it. You ’member that.”The lecture had painted a stark picture, but done little to quash his thirst for revenge. If anything, it had strengthened it. � � Sixty-threeQuint was quietly optimistic as he listened hard. There had been no noises coming from anywhere below for more than half an hour. The snag was, that had no way of seeing down there to be sure. There were tiny holes in the ceiling, but although within eight feet of him, he risked making creaking noises if he tried to get to them. He could see his surroundings reasonably well because of the hole he had been looking through, and several others, but going back through that trap would be a one-way trip.If they had rumbled him, and were waiting with their guns drawn, the game would be up. He could only hope that arrogant sergeant was as stupid as he sounded. Then he thought of all that wealth slipping ever further away, and groaned with longing.It was now or go without, he thought, as he wondered where they were headed.The longer he left it, the harder it would be to locate them, though they were still hopefully hampered by that stripy suitcase that he would see for miles. He drew his gun, and eased the trap up a couple of inches, whilst pointing the muzzle through the crack.The room seemed empty.He raised the trap all the way, and eased it down onto the rafters.Then he listened hard for a minute or so, before lowering himself through. Then, hanging from the wooden lip either side, he saw that he would have to drop the last foot, and that it would make a bang he had no way of muffling.He gritted his teeth and let go.The bang seemed out of all proportion to the force, and Quint ran around to the other side of the bed, shaking, while two doors down, Billy gazed at a revolver that looked brand new, in spite of the fact Sullivan had assured him it was more than twenty years old. ***It was of polished chromed steel, yet the grip was as black as night.He spent some time looking at that alone, not sure what it was made of. �śHeartwood ebony,” Sam told him. �śOne of only three ever made.”Billy spun it round and grinned as he thumbed back the hammer, revelling in the delicious sounding, well oiled clicks. �śThe very gun I killed that man with, in ninety-two,” Sam told him. �śIt’s not been fired since.” He watched disillusioned, as the boy held it out straight, drawing a bead on one of the pipes in the rack. Ebony. A black wood for a black heart. � *** � Quint was determined too, as he looked at an open copy of the New York Sun that lay on the floor, next to the bed. Several minutes had passed, and he was almost sure he was alone.A portion of the advertisements page had been torn out, though enough of it remained to tell him who it promoted. It was the Western Trading Company, a place from where he had procured supplies himself, over the years. Knowing her plan now, locating her was going to be easier than he thought.He grinned, knowing she was intending to draw him out, by leaving a trail a mile wide, with the loot as bait. He admired her thinking, but the pity for her was, she would be luring him to the sort of place where he felt most at home. He laughed out loud, knowing they didn’t stand a chance.� Sixty-fourLil, however, was not at all amused as she was presented with a revolver with mother of pearl grips, which had to be one of the smallest in the world. She and Robert were outside, on the shooting range, where a dozen large tin cans stood atop a shot splintered log, ten yards away. Either side, as if on guard, were life-sized targets, depicting men holding revolvers at the hip.A table before her carried about forty different handguns, from revolvers to semi-automatic pistols, in varying calibres, sizes and finishes. She had been told that all of them were loaded and ready for firing. �śThis is a lady’s weapon,” said George Brady, the balding, combed-over proprietor, as he held it delicately between finger and thumb. �śYou can keep it in your purse, or handbag, discreetly, and if you are threatened, you can�Ś” Ignoring him, she reached out and picked up a revolver that was about five times the size, and a look of horror spread across his face. �śMa’am, that’s a Colt service revolver. It kicks like a mare. It’s not really a lady’s�Ś” �śI need it to stop a man, not a mouse.” She thumbed back the hammer, aimed and pulled the trigger. There was a bang like the Day of Judgement and the can was blown into pieces. He shook his head in amazement, as the fragments fell about them, making tinkling noises. ***� Less than two hours after she had left, Jack Quint was listening to what George Brady had to say, not sure whether he believed him, though he didn’t think he’d dare lie. Brady had just closed up shop when a shot rang out, blowing another of the tin cans to pieces. When he saw Quint step out from behind one of the man-shaped targets, with the gun now pointed at him, he lost control of his bowels, thinking he was about to die.He just wanted information about that English woman and kid, thank God, so when he told him how she had fired six shots and demolished five cans from ten paces though, Quint was sceptical.He snatched his gun from its holster, shoved it under his chin and began pushing him backwards until he fetched up against the wall with the map. He thumbed the hammer back and pressed even harder, making his eyes water. �śYou’re lyin’, I know the dame. She’s never fired a gun in her life.” �śBut�Ś she, she did�Ś honest. Some people, even dames, are born�Ś” �śPhew, you stink. Shit your pants?” �śYeah�Ś I�Ś” His combed-over hair had fallen into his eyes.His hands waving about at his sides, as if he was trying to work up the guts to lash out. �śDon’t, or you’ll be dead before you can blink, and if you don’t start truthin’ too, like right now, there’ll be more than just shit oozin’ out of you.” �śBut�Ś but I am. It’s like she was a natural. Honest, sure as I’m standin’ here. Please, would I lie to you?” Terrified, and with the pressure on his larynx, his voice had become a high-pitched yammer. Quint lowered the gun and released the pressure from his throat. He slid down the wall, coughing and spluttering, both hands massaging his neck. �śWhere’d she go?” �śI don’t know.” The gun was back, this time on the end of his nose. Seeing two barrels through crossed eyes, Brady gasped, with visions of his brains coming out the back of his skull, �śShe was looking at the map, said she was going to Holly Springs to meet somebody.” � ***� Quint’s eyes flicked to the side, as he took the gun away from Brady’s nose. He grinned, seeing the town marked, and knew that with the skull and crossed bones printed by it, she was luring him there for a very good reason. It was deserted, and had been for more than fifty years, since a well had poisoned all but a few with cholera, and then driven them out.He shoved Brady into the map and said, �śI’m going to take a few things.” He looked at him earnestly.Brady laughed as if in nervous recognition that it looked as though he would live. He trailed behind Quint, rubbing his hands together, as though sucking up to his favourite customer. Quint took a new gun belt, this one hand stitched, with loops for fifty bullets, which he filled, before slipping it around his waist. He threw his jacket to the floor and replaced it with a cream coloured duster that hung almost to his ankles. He grabbed a handful of cigars and dropped them in his shirt pocket, before walking over to the till. �śOpen it.” Brady gulped and Quint saw beads of sweat across his upper lip. Quint lowered his hand, with deliberate slowness, to his gun. �śI said�Ś” �śOK, OK.” Brady held his trembling hands up in defeat, pressed one of the large brass keys and the drawer shot out. Without a trace of expression, Quint took every note he could see. He folded them in half and the wad disappeared into one of his pockets. Quint looked at the sick-looking man in front of him, winked, and lit a cigar before going back the way he had come. � ***� Sam and Billy watched, from where they had been concealed the whole time, after following Quint when he had left the hotel. Billy muttered, �śWhat a stinkin’, low down�Ś” �śSave your breath. It’s them that gets even, that wins. Anyway I know this guy Brady, and there’s none more deservin’. He’d take his grandma’s last cent if she wasn’t lookin’. Come on. At least we know where he’s headed.” By now it was almost dark. They ducked down and made their way along the splintered wall that formed the back of the range. � Sixty-fiveAs Billy and Sam were following Quint to the railway station, Lil Smith stood in a motionless train, with Robert, after pulling the emergency cord, with assorted luggage around her, where it had tumbled from overhead racks.She had been sitting in the cramped, smoky compartment for three hours, with men darting lecherous peeks, and their frumpy wives nudging them, glaring daggers. Amid the light tan of her face, her eyes shone like coals. She heard one of the women, a particularly portly one, mutter, �śBrazen hussy!” before kicking her small, sweating husband on the ankle. Sometimes the giggling faces of children appeared over the backs of the seats in front, before disappearing as quickly. Other passengers were muttering among themselves, because Holly Springs was a place that nobody ever talked about. �śWhat’s your trouble, ma’am?” the ticket inspector asked. �śI need to get off. I’m expecting to meet somebody here.”Her accent brought more odd looks.He was about to warn her of the five-dollar fine, but then his eyes wandered down to her pistol belt and thought better of it. �śYou’ll die if you stay.” �śI’ll die if I don’t. But at least here, a man will die with me.” Without another word, she lifted the suitcase and disembarked, feeling the chill of the coming night. Then, as she held Robert’s hand, and her other hand settled on her gun, she watched as the train trundled off.� ***� Eighteen hours later, on another train, Quint grinned to himself, not knowing Samuel Sullivan and Billy Tweed were sitting in another compartment, waiting for the train to stop. Sam, who had left Sylvester in the care of his sister, was smoking another of his pipes, a bone one that had turned buttery yellow over the years. Billy, who had been telling him exactly how he thought it best to tackle Quint when they got there, felt as though he’d been slapped in the face, when Sam cut him short by saying, �śI want you to stay on the train, go back the way you came, and wait for me.” He took his pipe from his mouth and pressed the bowl with his thumb. He looked into the boy’s eyes as smoke trickled through his teeth. �śBut�Ś” �śForget it. You don’t stand a chance against Quint. He’s fast�Ś” �śBut I hate him. It’s not the money�Ś” Sam smiled as he nodded sagely. �śGo on. It’s the principle.” �śWell�Ś yeah! I suppose it is.”Sam struck another match, plied it to the bowl and said between puffs, �śBoy, let me tell you a sad, but true fact of life. You can be up to your asshole in principles, but them and scruples never paid for bread on the table, beer in your belly or a low woman, and so far in my fifty-five years, no amount of prayin’ bought ’em either. It’s a hard ol’ world out there, and only money gets you things, ’cept o’ course, breedin’, respect and affection. Thems you earn.”He took a fountain pen and an old envelope from his top pocket. �śI’m going to write here what I think is sound advice, which you may take or leave as you please. But remember one thing.” He stabbed the air with the stem of his pipe. �śOf all the people you have met so far in your life, you may trust me the most. I’ll not turn my back on you, boy.” He wrote silently for about a minute, while Billy watched on, sometimes glancing out at the unfurling countryside. The sun was high in the sky, so it must be nearly midday. Sam finished writing just before they heard a squealing noise as the train’s brakes were applied so suddenly, Sam found himself in a tumble of arms and legs on the floor, cursing. Billy was still fixed where he was, with his back pressed into the seat, laughing as he saw Sam getting up, and dusting himself down. Then he caught a glimpse of the envelope, where it had fallen and four of the words rang on his ears as Sam snatched it up. �Ś for your own good�ŚWhenever he had heard that expression before, it had always been as a harbinger of disappointment, pain or loss. This time was no different, as he caught a glimpse of his fist as it swung up like lightning under his jaw.The world went black.� ***� Sam looked down at Billy’s unconscious form, shaking his head at the thin dribble of blood running from the corner of his mouth. He adjusted his hat and tapped out his pipe in the palm of his hand. He folded the envelope into quarters and tucked it into the boy’s top shirt pocket, half poking out, so he couldn’t miss it and muttered, �śAs I said, it’s for your own good.” He lowered the window, looked out, and could see they were just short of Holly Springs. He knew that Quint had pulled the emergency cord. What he did see at once, as it was directly opposite, was the communal grave of the town’s cholera victims, with a simple marker placed upon it to commemorate them.He opened the door on the opposite side of the train, so it would hide him, and climbed down onto the baking rails of the oncoming track, hearing the engine going torrr, tishhh, torrr, tishhh, torrr�ŚAn oily smell came to him on the breeze. He looked up and saw faces peering out; a preacher, whose pince nez fell from his nose, crossing himself, and in the next carriage, a small boy pulling his mother’s sleeve and pointing.Sam crouched down to see beneath the train as it started to move, with its chimney sending back a sulphurous smog. He wanted to see Quint’s legs, so he could anticipate his next move, but couldn’t see anything except the opposite bank. He looked behind himself and saw an old storage hut, the door long ago bashed in, hanging against the mildewy inner wall on one rusty hinge. He stepped inside, just as the train passed. Through the shattered window, where he kept back in the shadows, Sam saw Quint about two hundred yards off, drawing his gun, as he made his way past an old goods train in a siding.He watched as Quint stopped at the end of the crumbling waiting room, with the town’s name above it, the last letter S hanging upside down. Beyond this, was the dead world itself. � ***� Quint thumbed back the hammer on his gun. In the silence, broken only by a wisp of wind, the clicks sounded deafening. Wherever she was, she was a dead woman, unless she gave him the money without a fuss.Robert was watching from a room above the dress shop, where he had been told he must stay, whatever happened.He had been told not to go near the window under any circumstances, but couldn’t resist the temptation.He could see the brim of Quint’s hat; not that he could concentrate very hard.The room smelt of the dead.He kept thinking a rotting hand would touch his neck, and every so often, he flinched round, thinking something had moved. He forced himself to look at the suitcase instead.It stood in the middle of the empty street, alone.He watched as Quint peeped round.� ***� Quint swallowed hard, unsure whether she could see him or not, though he knew it was a trap. He saw how tempting it would be to simply run, grab it, keep on running, and risk her picking him off from wherever she was hiding. He nearly did, until he remembered what Brady had told him of the tin cans and how she’d demolished five in six from ten paces. He regarded his other surroundings, the terraced wood and brick buildings that lined either side of the street and the boarded sidewalk before them, with crumbling rails for tethering horses. An old wagon, with Acme Guns and Saddlery painted on the side, stood outside a ladies’ dressmaker, with the faded title Lesley’s Dress Emporium over the shattered window. From inside, he saw the pointed yellow eyes of a cat, as it watched from amongst rubbish that had blown there. There was a chapel at the far end, with closed doors at the front and about forty feet above, a single bell in a belfry. The building had once been white, but was now faded, with yard long strips peeling here and there. A sign next to the door read, Find salvation, not in the bottle or the gun, but in the house of the good Lord.He drew back, out of sight, irritated. Where was she?He looked from window to window, rooftop to rooftop, and even beneath some sections of the sidewalk. They were elevated by as much as two feet above the ground, though he found it hard to believe she would dare venture there, because of snakes and spiders.Directly ahead of him was the town barber. The name of the business, H Pettigrew Tonsorialist & Dentist was painted in swooping high letters on the large front window, one of the few not broken. The front door, partly glazed, was closed too, which meant she was unlikely to be hiding inside, as she couldn’t shoot through any of it without attracting attention and ruining her aim. He braced himself and ran full pelt towards it, half-expecting the crack of a pistol shot. Nothing happened.He bounded up onto the sidewalk and kicked the door open in mid-flight. It swung back on its hinges, knocking over a hat-stand. He quickly closed it, knowing he would be hard to see through the glass, because of the reflection, and was struck instantly by the stale smell as he looked at four chairs with their backs to him. Three were a faded maroon colour, the leather cracked and fissured with age and damp, but the fourth was a washed out black. This was the dentist’s chair, a little like the one he had been strapped into by his wrists and elbows, when he was nine, to have a rotten tooth yanked out with pliers. He released the hammer on his gun and listened hard, his eyes now on the suitcase again, this time in the reflection of one of the mirrors.Somebody’s nerve had to give.� Sixty-sixHalf a mile away, Billy Tweed opened his eyes and groaned as he held his aching jaw. A silver spike of pain waxed and waned in the centre of his skull. He pushed himself up and spat out a mouthful of blood. He wiped his lips on his sleeve, as he remembered what had happened, as anger filled him. He had really liked, trusted and respected Sam Sullivan, and couldn’t believe that, like Quint, he too had stabbed him in the back. He saw something in the corner of his eye. He plucked the note from his shirt pocket and read it at a snail’s pace, remembering that Sam had scribbled it before knocking him out.Boy, by the time you read this note, you will be many miles away. You have a lot of growing up to do, and a lot more to learn. I’m sure that one day, you’ll make something of your life, but you’ll never do it from a pine box. You already know the world is an unforgiving place. That is why I had to bushwhack you. It was for your own good. Trust me one last time, and meet me back at the railway station at noon tomorrow. SamSinking back against the slats of the seat, Billy crunched the note up and tossed it to the floor, thinking hard, but relieved too, knowing that perhaps he could trust him after all�Ś though if he got himself killed�Ś� ***� In Holly Springs, long minutes had passed and still nothing had happened. Robert was still watching.He could see the suitcase remained where it was, with dust devils dancing around, while tall weeds in the street and on the sidewalks rustled and twisted in the wind. He heard the wind whistling and thrumming through cracks and holes in the buildings too, and down the alleyways in between. The cat meowed as it darted down one of them, while a crow cawed from atop the chapel. No sound was spookier though, than the next one Robert heard. The bell in the chapel was tolling.� ***� Sam had heard it too, and ducked back. He was watching from the same place Quint had stood, at the end of the waiting room. He was hidden as best he could be, but still felt conspicuous. He knew it had to be her and peered around once more, as Robert and Quint watched from the shadows. � ***� Quint walked to the door and stood watching the suitcase again, as the ringing continued. If it was her pulling the rope, he knew she would never hit him, except by fluke, as the chapel was at least two hundred yards away. He opened the door and swallowed hard, as he walked onto the sidewalk. His hand flexed over his gun. His heart thudded as he stepped onto the street.He started walking. The bell continued to toll, even as his hand closed around the grip. He picked up the suitcase and carried on walking, knowing in his heart of hearts that something was terribly wrong, but unable for the life of him to put his finger on it.Then a shot came from nowhere. The bullet hit the clasp of the case and bits of metal and fabric flew off. With the shot came the cry of birds and the tolling stopped abruptly.The case flipped open, and although he’d half expected it, his heart still sank when not a single jewel or bank note fell out. It wasn’t empty though. There was a roll of paper. As he stooped to pick it up, he wondered how had she managed to ring the bell and prove such outstanding marksmanship from so great a distance.The mystery was solved when a man stepped out from behind the waiting room, pointing a Remington. He was vaguely familiar, as was his voice. �śClever dame,” he said. �śKnows character at a glance.”Quint laughed, though his grin froze as another voice to his side said, �śYes, and a very careful one too.”Quint glanced in the direction of the barber’s, to see her pointing her gun from the hip, while her hair flowed in the wind. � ***� She was just as shocked as Quint by this stranger’s sudden appearance, but said to Quint, as she stepped off the sidewalk, �śYou could have had half the money for helping me, like the gallant gentleman I thought you were.”He had been looking at the open case, dejectedly, but when he looked up, she could see the question burning in his eyes.He had to know. �śIt’s all in a safe,” she told him. �śEvery last penny. A long, long way from here, where you’ll never get it.”Sam dissolved into more laughter, while Quint threw the case down and kicked a nearby rock. It bounced off the side the Acme Guns and Saddlery wagon. His right hand moved towards his gun, while his left squeezed the roll of paper.There was a click as Lil cocked her gun. His hand moved away, fingers twitching. �śUnroll it and read,” she told him. �śAloud, if you please.”He hesitated, squeezing the paper even harder. She pointed her gun straight at his head. He let go of all but the top, which he held between finger and thumb, and it unfurled like a university diploma. His eyes widened, as he gazed at a fair likeness of himself.Then he began to read, his voice faltering and tight with both anger and humiliation. �śWanted by the White Star Line�Ś for the theft from persons aboard RMS Titanic�Ś”His teeth were gritted and he closed his eyes against the sting of sweat. �śAnd your name,” she told him. �śYour real name.”Their eyes met over the top of the poster and it seemed an age before he said, �śMy real name is not printed here.”She took a step back. �śIt says Quinton Jack,” she protested. �śA corruption of Jackson Quint, to throw would-be investigators off the scent.” �śThat’s as may be, but there’s only one man who knows my real name.” He turned towards Sam for the first time, as he dropped the poster. It fluttered away in the wind.Puzzlement spread across Sam’s face, though he noticed that Quint’s eyes had fixed on his gun. Then horror rolled through him, as he realised what he was seeing. Chromed steel. Ebony grip. One of only three ever made. His voice was a strangled whisper. �śMy God! You’re Ross McKenna.”He suddenly felt giddy, thinking he was looking at a ghost. The man with many names lift his shirt. There was a white pit several inches from his navel. �śBut how�Ś?” Sam whispered, his eyes bugging as he looked at the scar. �śNuns saved me. Took me to a mission in Albuquerque. Dug the slug out. Put some stuff in the hole. Sewed it up. Prayed over me. Brought me back from the brink�Ś just. Thank God for God, eh? Far as you were concerned, I was dead.” He laughed with irony. �śBut now, as you see, I’m here. I’m hale. I want my cut, and�Ś” His grin faded. �śI want your life.” Sam swallowed hard, aware for the first time that he wasn’t getting any younger. Lil watched as Quint’s eyes were tormenting him as a cat would a mouse.It was on her to shoot the swine dead.Nobody would ever know, but did she want her boy to see, and could she square it with all she had taught him, particularly having saved Bob from the noose, when she could so easily have let him die.She remembered reminding Robert of the sixth commandment, when he had accidentally killed the landlord�ŚAt last, she said tiredly, �śJust keep on walking Quint, McKenna�Ś whoever you are�Ś unless you want to die a second time!” Quint dithered, as his hand floated over his gun once more. He was quick, as many had found to their cost�Ś but there were two of them and she had proved her dexterity. He lowered his twitchy hand. �śBest do as she says,” Sam told him, trying to hide his relief, �śBut lay your piece on the ground first�Ś” Quint’s teeth were gritted with fury now. He drew his gun with finger and thumb, acutely aware of the fact they needed only the slightest excuse to kill him and carefully laid it in the dust. Then, shaking with rage, he started walking.Sam picked up his gun and tucked it into his belt.They both watched until he had disappeared behind the chapel, before walking towards the railroad.It wouldn’t take them long to flag down a passing train. What she didn’t expect, and nor did Sam, was the gunshot that echoed down the street seconds later. They turned to see Quint clasping his hand to his upper belly and dropping another revolver; clearly a spare he’d had concealed on his person the whole time. Quint’s face was a mad grimace of pain, surprise too, as blood flowered quickly across his shirt. He tottered from side to side, before crashing to his knees. Then, just as he grabbed his gun, and aimed wildly to his side, another shot rang out, and a pink spurt came out the other side of his head.As he toppled face first into the dust, dead, Billy Tweed stepped out from what was once the saloon.Sam knew he must have pulled the emergency cord on the train.He muttered, �śSweet Jesus,” and grinned, as he imagined how furious the other passengers must have been for it to happen a second time. �śKnow him?” Lil asked. �śYeah, I know him.” Billy was grinning as he neared them, and Sam could see the gun he carried was the one he had kept under the counter in the shop, in case of trouble. It had never been fired until now. �śFew lessons to learn yourself,” Billy said, throwing the piece away. �śLike never turning your back when you think you’re safe.” �śI guess so,” Sam told him. They embraced for a long time, and Sam felt a tear wind its way down his cheek. After he had introduced Billy to Lil, he said, looking in Quint’s direction, �śI guess we oughta bury him.” �śIt’s only right,” said a fresh voice.They turned to see Robert. �śMy son,” Lil explained, thinking once more about her husband, who presumably still languished in Pentonville Prison, smashing up rocks.They were not so very different, she supposed, him and Quint, as she cuddled the boy. It was just that one had a gun and the other hadn’t.She looked down into Quint’s half-open eyes and wondered if she could see a spark of goodness there. The same way she had often tried to find that spark in Bob’s eyes.She glanced up, hearing loud cawing. Two carrion crows were already circling above. Good or bad, they didn’t care. �śThere might be a proper yard behind the chapel,” Lil said. �śThe ground should be consecrated.” �śWhat does that mean?” Billy asked. �śBlessed,” she said. �śNo man is so wayward he should be denied it.”She fashioned a crude cross, while Billy, Sam and Robert dug a grave with shovels they had found. After they had laid him to rest, they prayed, before filling it.Sam whacked the cross into the ground with his shovel, the clangs probably the only human made sounds for fifty miles or more. Unable to find paint for an inscription and still uncertain of his real name, Lil finally said, �śLet his details remain a mystery. He will be judged by God anyway, come the Day of Reckoning. As will we.” They remained by the grave until the crows had flown away, and as she looked down at Robert, Lil’s mind turned once more to home.She yearned for it as much as he did.They climbed aboard a train shortly after, ignoring the looks of the curious as they sat, and with a hoot of steam, the train cranked away once more.� EpiloguePrinciple’s Study, Sycamore House Orphanage, New York, October 1918The Principle pulled up her chair gazing down at an inkblot on the induction form before her and cursed quietly. She hated waste. She crunched the sheet of paper up and dropped it in the waste paper bin, before taking another from a small pile.The woman sitting the other side of the desk had an east London accent.Two children stood either side of the woman, two boys and two girls; aged between eight and twelve. �śOnly way to save ’em,” the woman said, fighting back the tears, �śbringin’ ’em to you, I mean. Lots of uvver places are full up, cos of all the soldiers dyin’.” She played nervously with a tatty hat on her lap. �śBut these children don’t appear to be orphaned, Mrs�Ś?” �śRichards. They’re not mine. I got eight o’ me own. Can’t take on four more. These are me sister’s. She’d dead. Flu.” �śI’m very sorry to hear it.” �śIt were my ’enry’s fault.”The Principle looked at her questioningly, as she polished the spectacles she had taken to wearing for the past year. �śMe ’usband,” the woman explained bitterly. �ŚConnie,’ ’ee said, �Śwe’ll go to America,’ ’ee said, ’er kids an’ all. �ŚGet outa this shit ’ole,’ ’ee said, �Śthere’s no work an’ the war’s made the country stony broke, an’ the flu’s killin’ everyone.’” �śThe flu is all over the world, Mrs Richards, just like the war. People are dying here in their thousands too.”Mrs Richards grinned slyly. �śYeah, but it weren’t just that. ’Ee didn’t wanna get called up, you know, into the army. ’Ee’s a yeller as a lemon, but ’ee were scared o’ getting some white fevvers too.”Mrs Richards looked at her for a few seconds, before asking, �śYou English?” �śYes.” �śFought so. ’spect you went to fancy school to work in a fancy place like this.” �śNone that I didn’t take on board myself. All of us can move mountains, Mrs Richards.” She looked at the boys and girls pointedly, smiled and added, �śAll of us. In any case, I own this place.” �śOwn it?” Shocked, the woman looked around herself and the children did too. It wasn’t just the quality of the furniture that astounded them, as the cleanliness. There was no smell either. �śEvery brick,” the Principle told them. �śI bought the place lock, stock and barrel, five years ago. I run it the way I deem fit, and if your children do their daily chores and pray that the Good Lord delivers them, they should make out very well.” She continued filling the form and when she had finished, Mrs Richards said embarrassed, as she looked at the wooden plinth with the Principle’s name on it, �śI ain’t too good at this readin’ lark. Ain’t done much learnin’, wot wiv kids an’ all. What’s yer name, so’s I can come an’ visit ’em?” �śMrs Smith,” the Principle said, standing and smiling. �śMrs Lillian Smith.”� � Reading Group GuideAuthor BioAlan Watts lives in Kent, where he works for a local pharmacy. Touched by Angels is his first published novel.� Discussion Questions1. Why do think the title of the novel is �ŚTouched by Angels’?2. Do you feel Lil’s decision to allow her husband to be incarcerated for life for a crime he didn’t ultimately commit was justified?3. What would have been the consequences of Lil’s choice to give up the money and the struggle for the contents of the safe?4. All �Śgood’ characters in the novel have a mix of bad in them. What do you think is the author’s intention in relation to this?5. Is Lil a good mother? 6. Does the novel reflect the desperate aspirations of the time?Questions and Answers with the AuthorQ1: What prompted you to write Touched by Angels?A1: � The basic premise behind Touched by Angels was to allow a beautiful bird and her chick to escape a grubby cage.� The more I wrote though, the more I saw that even if they get out, they are still inside the hostile room that holds the cage,� and even if they escape that, they are still in the grubby street, and then the grubby city, where hungry cats are everywhere.� I discovered the further they went, the more cats there were, with less and less barriers to protect them from harm.� Paradoxically, the cage wasn't so bad after all.� My want was to see justice done, but seemingly against my will, ever more cats appeared, so in a sense, the writing� process was a battle between me championing the protagonists and an unseen, merciless force driving my pen, and therefore the antagonists.Q2: The descriptions of pre-WWI London are extremely authentic. On what did you base your research on?A2: � An instinctive feeling for the period mostly; an abiding fascination with the Edwardian era and the Great War. Why?� Because it was a time, more than any other period in history, of such rapid social and technological change; and of course, each one propelled the other.� Through writing, I want to put myself, and by extension, you, there, via a virtual time machine, so we can see it, smell it, warts and all; and talk to the people, both good and bad, and see what makes them tick.� People had a vastly different mind-set then and I try to tap into it.� Yes, the physical facts, dates and details are vitally important, but so too is the feeling of total immersion.� Without it, a novel becomes, in my view, a lengthy essay.Q3: Lil is an extraordinary woman in every sense of the word. Do you have a feminine figure in your life you have based your� character on?A3: There is not one single feminine figure I have based Lil on. She was created organically, almost by herself.� She largely tended to write her own dialogue, and fight her demons in her own inimitable way.� She detests injustice of any sort, as I do.� Even without the Suffragette Movement, she was campaigning for women’s rights without ever spearheading marches and� rallies, by her innate intelligence and energies that were directed to hers and Robert's every day survival.� If she had joined the Suffragettes, the vote for women would have come long before 1918.Q4: How do you think readers will react to Bob Smith's life sentence for a crime he didn't commit?A4: � Bob Smith, aka �ŚFighting Bob’, is a cowardly, pig-ignorant, foul-mouthed, idle, filthy, drunken slob of a man. He is a wife-� and child-beater too.� It cannot even be said that he is a likeable rogue.� In one scene, he even stoops so low as to kick a blind ex-soldier outside a Mission and steal a pile of farthings he had� obtained by begging. One might cry, "Oh, for Heaven's sake! How could a bright, attractive woman like Lil have been so stupid as to get tied� up with a man like that?!" But we all know women, and indeed men, who, barely out of their blissfully ignorant teens,� have walked up the aisle with totally opposite spouses.� By the time Bob stands in the dock for a murder he didn't commit, it is hopefully a testament to Lil's character that even� after all she has been through, she is still determined he will not hang.� She breathes a sigh of palpable relief, when instead, he gets a life sentence, and hopefully, the reader will feel the same.� Or maybe not. Q5: What are you currently working on?A5:� A good tag line for my current project would be,� "Even amidst the horrors of war, your dreams can still come true."� Set in July 1916, on the eve of the Battle of the Somme, it is provisionally entitled Parallel Lives.� Just like Touched by Angels, it is a highly graphic tale, but unlike it, Parallel Lives is set in two completely diffewrent arenas that eventually converge.� Table of ContentsEpilogue