Finally Jack’s last day had come. Jack had stuck to his part of the bargain, remaining out of sight and unheard, and the week had passed without incident, but still his presence had felt like an infection, slowly spreading its disease into Sam’s life. He had stopped asking Sam to bring him alcohol but had continued to drop hints and insinuations about his father’s childhood. Prior to his arrival Sam had heard nothing of his father’s life in Whitechapel. Now, that shady period of Mr Toop’s history occupied Sam’s thoughts. His dreams were infiltrated by scenes of Jack and Charlie Toop, running through the streets of London, pilfering, snatching and laughing. Always laughing.
On Jack’s final morning Sam cooked sausages and eggs.
‘A hearty breakfast to see your old uncle on his way, eh?’ Jack said.
Yes, thought Sam, a hearty breakfast to give you the energy to run as far from here as possible.
‘I trust you have decided where you will go, Jack,’ said Mr Toop.
‘You don’t want to worry yourself about my whereabouts,’ said Jack. ‘I wouldn’t want you feeling you had to lie to any law man who came looking for me.’
‘Harbouring you here this past week is enough of a lie,’ said Mr Toop. ‘I asked whether you have decided, not the whereabouts of where you’ll be. You’re well placed here to get down into Kent or travel to the coast.’
‘I went to the coast once,’ replied Jack. ‘I wanted to see all that water in one place, but it wasn’t up to much if you ask me. And the cold air that came off it interfered somethin’ nasty with my chest. London air’s good enough for me.’ He skewered a sausage with a fork and brought it to his mouth.
‘You can’t go back now, Jack,’ said Mr Toop. ‘You’re a wanted man.’
‘Careful now, Charlie. You’ll get me thinkin’ you actually care.’
‘No matter what has happened between us, I’d not see you hang.’
‘Remember, according to your stipulation, we ain’t brothers once I walk out that door. I’m just a man, and one who’s murdered and all. You tellin’ me you’d not see a murdering man swing by the neck?’
‘You may have no regard for the sanctity of life, but I do,’ snapped Mr Toop.
The kettle started to whistle.
‘And what about you, Sam?’ asked Jack. ‘If they catch me, will you come and watch your old uncle swing for ’is crimes?’
Sam stood up from the table to take the whistling kettle off the hob, leaving Jack’s question unanswered.
‘Wherever you’re heading, I believe it’s time you left,’ said Mr Toop.
‘You’d hurl me out in daylight?’ exclaimed Jack.
‘You have had your week,’ said Mr Toop. ‘If you’d wanted to leave in the dark you could have left last night.’
‘I’ll leave at nightfall,’ asserted Jack.
‘No. Now.’
‘Please, Charlie. Have mercy.’
The two brothers glared at each other across the breakfast table. Jack’s gaze was unrelenting, despite the desperation in his voice.
‘Perhaps it would be better for Jack to leave this evening,’ said Sam. ‘In daylight there is too much danger that a neighbour might spot him. If he was caught, the question would come up of where he’s been hiding this past week.’
‘Exactly,’ said Jack, smiling. ‘Listen to your boy, Charlie.’
‘At nightfall, then,’ conceded Mr Toop. ‘But as soon as the sun goes, I want you gone too, Jack.’