D_Revenge Hits London

by Chris Turnbull

  ***

  It was nearly Eleven when Lucy finally returned home. She wasn’t exactly quiet trying to get through the front door. I had waited up for her, and as soon as I heard her I went out into the hallway to greet her. I could smell alcohol on her breath as soon as she walked through the door.

  ‘Did you have an enjoyable walk?’ She jumped with fright at the sound of my voice.

  ‘Oh Vic I didn’t see you there. I thought you would be in bed by now.’

  ‘I wanted to speak with you. I wanted you to hear it from me.’ Her eyes narrowed.

  ‘Hear what?’

  ‘This morning I went back to the doctor to get my results.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He informed me that I was pregnant.’

  ‘Oh…I see.’ Her face dropped at the news.

  ‘Albert and I are very excited about it.’

  ‘Well of course you are. How delightful that your husband is still alive and able to give you a child to dwell over.’

  ‘Lucy, you do not mean what you say; I think it is time for bed.’

  ‘I’m surprised he hasn’t gotten you pregnant sooner. The family were beginning to think you were barren, and you know how rumours can start.’ Lucy hung her coat and hat and retreated upstairs, stomping her feet like a spoilt child the entire way. I knew she would not be saying all this was it not for the alcohol, yet her words still hurt.

  As she disappeared upstairs I realised that she had not fully closed the front door. I opened it ever so slightly with the intention of giving it a good hard push, but something on the doorstep caught my attention and stopped me in my tracks. I eased the door open and there on the top step was a small suitcase. I stepped out to inspect it further. The small case I was certain I recognised, and upon seeing a small brown tag tied to the top with my own handwriting on, I gasped in shock. The small tag which read:

  Mr & Mrs Summers

  12 Vincent Square

  London

  My heartbeat began to race. This was the suitcase that had fallen off of the carriage when we left Whitby is a hurry. My eyes began to scan the street, but there was nobody around. I grabbed hold of the case and brought it into the house, locking the door as soon as I could with my shaking hands. I leaned against the door trying to calm my fast breathing and even faster heartbeat. I held my chest as my heart felt as though it was going to burst from my ribcage. After a minute I began to calm and knelt down to inspect the case. It had not been opened since I had sealed it, and when I opened it all my personal items lay inside untouched. So if it was lost in Whitby, how did it end up on the doorstep?

  Chapter 6

  D

  The moment I saw Lucy walk through the door of The Dick Inn my eyes lit up with excitement. I hadn’t expected to see her in this area today, and so I was a little surprised. I offered to buy her a drink and we started to talk, by that I mean she talked and I listened. She sometimes tried to get me to tell her more about myself, but I had soon come to learn that I could easily turn the conversation and she would be talking about herself again soon enough. I had been in London for little over a month now, and had met with Lucy on numerous occasions. She had no idea the connection I had with her sister, and as she complained about her it angered me.

  I often thought about that final night in Whitby. The Detective trying to play the heroic, and Victoria pretending to be some kind of innocent victim. It was me who was the victim of her bogus love and deceitful betrayal. The Dracula book I had carried every day since Mary’s death was now gone and sitting at the bottom of the North Sea. Victoria would pay for what she had done. For the entire journey to London I carried the small case that had come loose from the carriage, her carriage. It read her name and address and I was resolute that I would knock on her door and shout at her for the pain she had caused me.

  It took me a while to find Vincent Square, it was raining again and I was within the gates of the green taking shelter from the storm under one of the many trees until it stopped. I wasn’t there long when the front door opened. I stayed in the shadow of the trees and watched from across the road. An umbrella opened in the doorway, blocking my view of the person exiting. As the giant umbrella was lifted I saw that there were in fact two people taking shelter from the rain, one of which was Victoria, the other a lady with golden blonde hair, a long black gown, and a face equally as radiant as Victoria’s. They began to head my way, so I hid myself behind the large tree trunk. I strained to listen as they walked passed on the opposite side of the railing.

  ‘Victoria do you not think this can wait until it has stopped raining?’ the blonde woman said.

  ‘Lucy, you are my sister and I love you but if you really are going to be staying longer with us then I cannot keep loaning you all my clothes and toiletries. We need to get you some items of your own to tie you over until you return home.’

  After that I couldn’t hear what was being said, but I had heard everything I needed to know. Victoria had a sister, and what was more interesting was that she was called Lucy. To most people that piece of information wouldn’t mean anything, but to me it meant everything. My beloved book now stranded out to sea, I could still memorise every single word of it. Dracula was a strong man who knew what he wanted and didn’t let people stand in his way. Lucy was the name of his first victim, a beautiful blonde woman, just like Victoria’s sister.

  I visited the house many times over the course of the week, never once knocking on the door as originally planned, and I kept the suitcase with me for the time being. On the Friday evening I watched as Lucy left the house alone, she walked across the square and got a cab on the main road. I was able to follow quite easily, the busy London roads didn’t allow the horses to go very fast, with trams cutting up their path and pedestrians passing by every couple of minutes. I followed her to an area of London I was most familiar with; known to the locals as the "old" part of London. I was surprised to see her go into a local church, surely one closer to her sister’s house would be adequate, I thought? I waited around the entrance, too nervous to follow her inside and be spotted, yet upon her exiting she almost ran straight into me.

  ‘Oh I beg your pardon,’ she said her face flushed with embarrassment.

  ‘No harm done.’ I said, stepping back for her to get by. She took only two steps before turning back to me.

  ‘Excuse me, but are you from this area?’

  ‘I know it quite well.’

  ‘I would relish a glass of wine, could you suggest a safe place; I wouldn’t want to walk into somewhere unsavoury.’ I gave her a smile and gestured along the street.

  ‘Just on the corner here you will find three Inns. I think either of these two will be suitable for you.’ I pointed at The Dick Inn and The Hand and Shear, both of which I had been in during my apprentice days. She headed inside The Dick Inn and I decided to follow her. On this first visit she did not stay long, drinking only the one glass of wine before heading home alone.

  It was a couple of nights later that I was surprised to see her back in the pub, and this time she stayed much later, drinking quite a lot and re-telling stories to me about her and Victoria, as well as telling me about her dead husband. It wasn’t just me she spoke with either, most of the customers were men, and Lucy being an attractive lady had the attention of them all. It was clear that she relished in the attention and this is why I think she visited on numerous occasions.

  I still continued to go down to the house, but not every day. Lucy became quite a regular to The Dick Inn, even making visits when I was not there.

  On this very night when Lucy came into the pub she again stayed out a long time. She got steadily drunker as the evening drew on, more so than I had seen her before. She told me that she had informed her sister over dinner that she would be returning south to stay with their mother; and her plan was to leave on Monday. Today was Thursday. I knew she didn’t think of me as any more than somebody who spoke to her in the pub, and the more I spoke with her the more I realised
she was nothing like Victoria.

  ‘It’s getting late, I need to go home.’ She stumbled as she rose to her feet. I caught her arm and tried to steady her before she fell. ‘Get off of me.’ She shrieked, causing the entire pub to stop and stare. I was horrified by her outburst but did not retaliate simply in the hope that the eyes in the pub would stop looking over.

  ‘I was only trying to help,’ I said in a hushed tone. She didn’t say anything in response to my comment, but was quick to order me about.

  ‘You can help me stop a cab at the end of the road.’ With that she took off out the door and began to march up the street, I had to almost sprint to keep up with her. A cab was easy to call, and I even convinced Lucy to share it with me, my lie that I was going the same way.

  The late hour meant for quieter streets, which in turn made the ride back a much quicker journey than normal. Lucy didn’t speak the entire way and when she exited the cab on the corner of Vincent Square she didn’t even say goodbye to me.

  I followed her along the pavement as we walked the perimeter of the square, keeping my distance so as not to startle her. I watched as she walked through the front door, with me standing at the bottom of the stoop. I could hear her talking inside, and it was then I noticed the door wasn’t completely shut. I decided that I had had enough of carrying the small case around with me, and so I placed it upon the top step. I tried to hear what was being said but Lucy’s tone was slurred. I retreated back away from the house in fear of being spotted and perched back against a tree out of sight. Just then Victoria emerged in the doorway, the case in her hand as she scanned up and down the street.

  ***

  It was well after midnight, and I was walking through Whitechapel. The brothels here were the best in the city, and I would often visit. I hadn’t killed since being in Whitby, and seeing the street walkers in the alleys only heightened my desire for the taste of blood. I stopped in a doorway that was often occupied by a black woman beckoning in men. It was late, the sun would be rising again soon.

  ‘Excuse me sir.’ The voice of a young boy surprised me.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I was told to give you this.’ He handed me a large rusty key. A piece of red ribbon attached.

  ‘Who told you to give me this?’

  ‘Er…him.’ The child pointed just in time to see the silhouette of a man walking around the corner. I pushed the kid aside and took after him. But when I reached the corner, he was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Mister, wait up.’ The young boy raced to catch me up. ‘I needed to give you this too.’ He handed me an envelope, with nothing written on it. As the boy ran off I walked over to a small lamp and ripped it open. The handwriting was almost ineligible.

  Have you ever been to the pub on Wapping Wall called the ‘Prospect of Whitby’? I imagine it would make you feel right at home.

  I find it a little crowded in there myself.

  Come to my place and let me buy you a real drink. Look for the dome by the river, the entrance to the new Greenwich foot tunnel. Come after midnight. Bring the key.

  J.

  Chapter 7

  Friday 1st June 1900

  Victoria

  I barely slept at all that night. The image of the case on my doorstep played over and over in my paranoid mind, and questions flooded my thoughts preventing me from a peaceful sleep. Lucy had only just walked through the door, had a person followed her, or had they been watching the house for some time? The thought of it being D himself worried the life out of me, but how could it be him? Constable Taylor was right there on Church Street, and surely Detective Matthews wasn’t far behind? I did wonder why we had never heard from the detective. I thought he would have wanted to thank me for my bravery, after all being bait for such a murderer as D is certainly no walk in the park.

  I opened the curtains to our bedroom with hesitation, scanning up and down the street as well as into the green. Nothing; was I simply being irrational?

  I helped in the kitchen to make breakfast and get the table set. I couldn’t get used to having Miss Baily and Ms Lowney doing all the work, it’s something I had always enjoyed and found it difficult to just sit and watch them both run after us all. This morning it also helped me try to focus on something else, I couldn’t just sit at the table alone waiting for Albert and Tom to come downstairs.

  ‘Now, now, Mrs Summers,’ Ms Lowney protested, ‘please take a seat and don’t fuss, in your condition you need to rest as much as possible.’

  When Albert came downstairs he was in one of his finest suits, he always looked immaculate, and every morning he would open his briefcase on the table and check through to ensure he had everything for the day. Occasionally, he would run back upstairs to his office to search for missing paper work. This morning he didn’t open the briefcase at all and placed it on the floor as he took the seat next to me, as appose to his usual spot opposite, and took my hand before speaking.

  ‘Darling I am still so excited about our news. May I tell people at work?’ This is what I liked most about Albert, he wasn’t like most gentlemen. A man wouldn’t consult his wife on her feelings about anything like this.

  ‘Of course. I will send a telegram to Mother today too, would you like me to write one to your parents, or do you wish to do that yourself?’

  ‘If you had the time that would be splendid. I can already picture my mother’s face; she will be delighted at the prospect of becoming a grandmother again.’

  Ms Lowney walked in with a pot of hot tea and two cups and saucers on a tray. She heard what Albert had said and smiled with delight. ‘Porridge?’ She asked whilst pouring the tea. We both said yes and she disappeared back into the kitchen.

  ‘Albert, I was just wondering if we ever got a letter from Detective Matthews. It just occurred to me that we never heard from him since leaving Whitby, do you think we ought to write to him?’

  ‘No dear, but I imagine he is a very busy man who knows that we want to put the whole thing behind us. No point getting yourself upset about it now, so let’s look forward to the future and forget about that horrendous week.’

  Tom walked in.

  ‘Morning ma’am, sir.’ He took the seat opposite me and Ms Lowney came through again, this time with three bowls for porridge and a glass of milk for Tom.

  ‘Beg pardon miss, but do you know if Miss Lucy will be joining you for breakfast this morning?’

  ‘Ms Lowney my sister came in quite late last night, so I don’t expect her to be joining us. However once she makes her appearance I will ask her if she would like anything and let you know.’

  ‘Thank you Ma’am.’ And with that she disappeared back into the kitchen, peering through the circular window of the door every five minutes to see if she was needed.

  Tom ate his porridge much quicker than myself and Albert and was always the first to leave the house in a morning. He was particularly perkier this morning, talking about it being his final day at his job down by the docks.

  ‘I’ll make sure to tell ‘em first thing that it’ll be mi last day. John’ll be so envious of where I’ll be working come next week.’ John was a work friend he had made, but I could never keep up with all the names he talked about. Moments later he was leaving the table and headed off to work, I always liked to walk him to the door, where I gave him a kiss on the cheek and waved him off before returning to finish my breakfast.

  ‘I was thinking about names.’ Albert said as I retook my seat, ‘what about naming him Ernest after my father?’ My facial expression must have been more obvious than I thought. ‘Or…we could choose William, after my Grandfather.’

  ‘I prefer William. But Albert what if the baby is a girl?’

  ‘Ah yes, that could be much trickier. I don’t think we should call her after my mother, Winifred is not at all appealing. Your mother’s name is a little better, Edna, but still I am not sure.’

  ‘I like Lillian, we could call her Lily for short.’

  ‘Lillian…Lily? That’s
a good name. Lily Summers. Yes I like that.’ He put down his empty cup of tea and faced me, placing one of his hands onto my belly. ‘Well then William or Lily, I hope you approve of those names.’ He kissed me on the cheek and rose to his feet. ‘That seemed easier than I imagined it to be. The hard part is on its way no doubt.’ He chuckled as he picked up the briefcase from the floor and headed for the front door; I followed and once he had buttoned up his long black coat he again kissed me before leaving. I watched him walk along the street from the doorway, my hands holding my still flat belly as I watched. Knowing a little person was growing inside me was a strange feeling, but humbling nonetheless.

  ***

  It was nearly nine before Lucy made an appearance. I had helped clear away the breakfast dishes and written both letters to our parents on the small folding writing desk in the corner of the sitting room. I was headed back towards the kitchen when I heard her coming down the stairs.

  ‘Good morning Lucy, would you like to me ask Ms Lowney to make you some breakfast?’ I asked as soon as I caught a glimpse of her. I tried not smirking upon realising I had made her jump.

  ‘No thank you, just a cup of tea.’ She took herself into the sitting room and sat in the armchair next to the window. She looked quite rough this morning. After speaking to Ms Lowney I joined her, with a pot of tea for us both to share.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ I enquired; she was never normally this quiet.

  ‘Vic, I am scared of going back home. All the memories I have are in that house and my husband is supposed to be there, but he isn’t. I know I will be staying with Mother for a while whist I go through his belongings, but still I wish it was something I could avoid. I feel as though my life has come to some kind of stop, my husband is dead, and here you are getting pregnant and continuing to be happily married.’