It was mid-afternoon when Jack emerged from Bessie’s room. A few more bouts like that and he might change his mind about marriage. He skipped down the stairs – he hadn’t felt as well since before the attack. The clock in the hall lethargically struck three. He patted his pocket – there was just enough coin to place on the fight. It had been Southby’s idea. There was a cockfight in the stable of The Bull & Crown. Jack was to meet Southby in the tavern after three. ‘Stick to my advice,’ Southby had said, ‘and you’ll make a pretty profit. I have an eye for the birds,’ he added confidentially. An afternoon’s sport was just what Jack needed to help his financial rehabilitation, and it would give him a few precious hours to recover his strength for some more rounds with Bessie later on. Not that Jack was required to do overmuch. Bessie was becoming as imaginative and commanding as Mrs Trump.
As Jack adjusted his cravat, Hilda walked by with a scuttle of coals. Her surly mouth creased into a grin. Jack’s hand sped to his head. He was still wearing the “major” wig Bessie insisted he wore each time they went to bed.
The streets heaved with sad-faced people under grey skies and thick wreaths of clawing smoke pumped out by hundreds of chimneys. One day, Jack promised himself, he would venture to Italy, where he had heard that the sky was always blue, the people smiled and there were legions of beautiful girls with passionate natures. That is what Digges had told him; not that Digges had ever been further than Ireland. Jack pushed on towards the quayside. At the Guildhall, he turned left and jostled his way along the quayside wall. Despite the throng, he had an uneasy feeling he was being followed. The occasional, darting glance behind revealed no one in particular. Once out through the town gate, he was in Sandgate, the most populated and poorest part of the town. Here lived the uncompromising keelmen, who loaded the coal for the London market onto the colliers. The area’s ramshackle houses had been thrown up close to the town walls as though desperate for protection, though from the point of view of the more well-to-do, the walls effectively kept Sandgate’s downtrodden inhabitants at arm’s length; they had their uses as long as they were out of sight. Gin-soaked whores were busy angling for business from the drunken sailors and keelmen. Jack shook off one persistent girl – she couldn’t have been more than twelve – from whom he had innocently asked directions to The Bull & Crown. The explicit entreaties from one so young shocked him, and he hurried on up the alleyway straight into the arms of a massive man who smelt of fish.
Jack’s way was blocked and the man showed no inclination to move. He grinned. ‘There’s someone who wants to see you, young’un.’ Jack’s heart sank. He didn’t even contemplate running, for there was bound to be someone behind him. His instincts had been right – he had been shadowed. He couldn’t face another beating so he meekly followed the lumbering figure up the bank. Where they went he couldn’t tell. Truth be known, he didn’t care. Suddenly, he wanted the end to come quickly. All the fight and vigour were drained from him; he was empty of feeling. Digges, Bessie, Bowser, Catherine, Courtney, Axwell – all had tossed him around like a rag dollie. Even his greatest motivation – fear – couldn’t come to his aid. He marvelled at how easy it was for him to accept death. It wasn’t as though he was taking solace in the afterlife; the release was enough in itself. All he prayed for was that it wouldn’t be painful. Surely Courtney would grant him that.
‘In there,’ said the big man, and Jack was unceremoniously shoved through a doorway. The door was closed behind him. The man stood guard. Jack stood motionless, head bowed, eyes closed, awaiting his demise with what he thought was a commendable degree of equanimity. A last prayer was even forming in his mind.
‘You are a damnably difficult fellow to get hold of.’ Jack’s head jerked up as he recognised the voice. There, sitting by a fire, smoking his long-stemmed clay pipe was Thirsk.
‘You!’ spluttered Jack. ‘So it is you!’
Thirsk appeared puzzled. ‘You seen surprised, Mr Flyford.’
‘Of course I am. I thought it was… never mind. Well, I suggest you get it over and done with quickly. However, if I can make one last request, please do not harm Bessie Acorn. Everything that was done was instigated by myself. She is innocent of my investigations.’ Thirsk cradled his pipe in his lap and was about to speak. ‘Oh yes,’ Jack continued rapidly, ‘I have one other final request. Please do not put me through another savage beating; my body cannot take further punishment. All I ask is that it is done swiftly and that I suffer as little pain as possible. Ah, one further last request. Could you let my sister know of my death? Say it was accidental. Spare her the sordid details. She can be contacted through the cathedral at Worcester. I think that is all. I am resigned to my fate.’
Thirsk examined him for a moment. ‘Do you really think, sir, that I would have you done away with for the sum of thirty guineas? I will do many things to recover a debt – murder is not one of them. Yet.’
‘Bringing me here like this, I presumed that you must be the same person who masterminded the attack which resulted in my visit to the Infirmary.’
‘Whoever was responsible for that, I do not know. It was certainly not I, nor Hodsock,’ said Thirsk with a flourish of his pipe in the direction of the big man guarding the door. ‘It must be said that if Hodsock had attacked you, you would have had no need of the Infirmary.’ A quick glance at Hodsock confirmed it.
‘No, I have had to ask Hodsock to accompany you here, for at each visit I made to Acorn’s house I was repulsed by your equally effective guard, the forthright Miss Acorn. A woman of some character I hear, though I am sure you are well aware of that.’ What was he implying? Thirsk drew on his pipe. ‘I wonder if she was the reason you failed to join my company.’
‘I have to admit that it was a major consideration. I was all set to join your company, Mr Thirsk. I told her straight – my future lies at the Moot Hall. It was then that she broke down in tears and begged me on bended knee to stay faithful to the memory of her father. How could I refuse such an impassioned plea?’
‘You paint a moving picture. I almost believe you. Almost. But I have no doubt that other influences were at work also. Did Bowser offer you more than I did?’
‘Less, actually,’ Jack blurted out.
Thirsk’s busy eyebrows unknitted to some extent as his face creased into a grim smile. ‘At least it restores my faith in human greed.’
‘It should not,’ said Jack, recovering quickly, ‘I joined the company that offered me the least financial incentive.’ Jack remembered how Bowser’s implied threat had more than outweighed the monetary shortfall.
‘Not really. You seem to have pocketed both.’
It was time to bluster again. ‘That is not true.’
‘Well, what else can I make of it?’ Thirsk tapped his coat pocket. ‘I appear to be thirty guineas the poorer.’ He wasn’t smiling now.
‘You underestimate me, sir. I was bringing you back your money – and with a full explanation as to my actions – when I was set upon by ruffians. They stripped me of all your cash. I had not touched a penny, upon God’s honour.’ Jack hoped God would appreciate the necessity of calling his name in vain.
‘Most unfortunate.’ There wasn’t a trace of sympathy in Thirsk’s voice. He knocked the bowl of his pipe against the heel of his shoe, and a sprinkling of ash dispersed around his chair. He then sat back and pointed the stem towards Jack. ‘Mr Flyford, I believe you to be a resourceful man. I am sure it is not beyond the bounds of possibility for you to lay your hands on another thirty guineas.’
‘Honestly, Mr Thirsk, I cannot raise such a sum. I told you it was stolen along with Bowser’s money. Here,’ Jack fumbled in his pocket, ‘this is all I have in the world.’ He held out a two guinea coin, seven shillings and three farthings. ‘I was hoping to use this to win at the cockfighting this afternoon.’
Thirsk leant over and took the two guinea coin. ‘For the sake of argument, let us say that this is interest on my investment. I am in no hurry for the rest. I will expect payment of the thirty guineas in two days.’
‘Please, Mr Thirsk, be reasonable. I cannot find such a sum in two days,’ Jack whined hopelessly.
‘That, sir, is your problem. Ask your friend Bowser for a loan. It is your own fault that you are in this predicament because you have put me in a difficult position. I promised my backers both you and Miss Balmore. Neither of you came. At least she refused the money. I will send Hodsock round to Miss Acorn’s house at noon on Saturday. I have empowered him to use any method he deems fit to secure what is mine. I do find violence distasteful. However, in these increasingly difficult times, one must employ every means at one’s disposal. I hope I make myself plain.’
‘I think I get the gist.’
‘Good. Do not let me delay you a moment further, Mr Flyford.’
At least he was leaving the room alive, which was more than he had bargained for when he went in. On reflection, death was probably the better option. Now he had yet one more worry to add to his growing list – and worries didn’t come bigger than Hodsock.
Out in the street, Jack thought he saw a man watching him from a doorway. When he looked again, the man was gone. He had an uneasy feeling that it had been Sergeant Axwell.