Murder

by Sarah Pinborough

  I would not kill innocents. I was not a monster.

  At first I had considered burying the woman in the garden. It was the most convenient option by far – but it would not be holding up my end of this terrible partnership. The Upir needed the river fed, and I would happily do so if it meant there was the possibility one day that the creature would take sanctuary in the Thames and leave me to live my life in peace. Only her head would go in that soft earth – I could not risk any chance of identification – and the rest would take to the water. But I would learn from Harrington’s mistakes. I felt no urge to taunt the police by leaving part of her where it could be easily discovered (and on reflection, now that I suffered his condition, I wondered if the torso left in the Scotland Yard vault was more Harrington’s doing than the Upir’s; his unconscious desire to get caught making itself manifest perhaps). I trusted my medical ability to ensure that the woman was unidentifiable, but I had no desire for her body to wash up on the riverbank. I wanted her to simply disappear, so I could forget my unwelcome needs, at least until the next fever struck me and I would have to act again. My plan would require accomplices, but I knew just the man to go to.

  And so here I was.

  When the small boat finally came ashore on the shingle of a quiet bank, Jimmy – although I was not convinced that was his real name – secured it amongst the other small craft.

  I expected my cold joints and bad back to scream at me as I stood upright after an hour or more in the freezing cold, but instead I rose easily, and I could not deny the pleasure that my renewed energy gave me, even though I knew that I should find it abhorrent.

  ‘You won’t be needing any more dogs, then?’ George asked quietly as we moved like hollow ghosts towards the steps and the streets to take us back to our lives.

  ‘No,’ I answered. ‘No more dogs.’

  40

  London. April, 1898

  Dr Bond

  The weather cleared for the wedding and warm sunshine bathed the small church in Barnes that Juliana had chosen. I had to admit, as much as it hurt my heart, she looked radiantly happy as they said their vows. The sight of Edward Kane still made my stomach knot with a fury I didn’t entirely understand, but I could not deny they made a fine couple. Standing beside Walter Andrews, I felt suddenly old and tired. The rage I felt towards Kane was, I was certain, driven in part by the Upir, but the exhaustion and sadness was all my own.

  Juliana had written to me and begged me to remain her friend, even though she would understand if I felt I could not. Once I had dealt with my more pressing situation in the cellar, I had realised that without Juliana, in whatever capacity she would allow, my life was empty of real goodness, true decency. Still, it had not been easy for me to adjust to my new role in her life, not least because I could not shake the feeling that I had behaved like a fool, an old fool, and that was worse than if I had simply loved her and never declared myself.

  Little James took my hand as we followed the couple out with our paper cones of rice and I smiled and clapped with him and the rest of the guests as we showered his mother. We were a small gathering: Walter Andrews, James Barker and his wife, James’ tutor William Chard Williams and his wife, and one or two others I did not know but I presumed were business connections of either Juliana or Edward. James Barker had walked Juliana down the aisle in her father’s absence. I was sure that in her heart she wished me to have done that but thought it inappropriate to ask, and that made me feel even older. To admit to myself that on some level she had always seen me as a surrogate father figure, that her very real affection for me was nothing more than that, crushed me. I would not love again, of that I was certain, but I could not cure myself of the love I had for her.

  We went back to the house in Barnes, where an informal wedding breakfast had been set up so that we could enjoy the sunshine. Watching their ease with one another, I realised that Juliana and Kane had probably been man and wife in all senses of the words for some time now, and I could not stop my teeth from gritting as I looked at the rich, handsome young American.

  Andrews handed me a fresh glass of champagne from a passing tray as a jovial-looking man said, ‘You must be Dr Bond. It is a great pleasure to meet you. James mentions you often in our lessons – allow me to introduce myself: William Chard Williams, James’ tutor. I hear you will be looking after the young man while the happy couple are in France?’

  ‘Yes, I shall,’ I replied. The man’s open expression made me think he knew nothing of Juliana’s rejection of me and for the first time that day I relaxed slightly. I looked over to where the boy was playing with a ball and hoop in the far corner of the lawn and he glanced back, but did not smile. ‘Although I fear that at my age this might prove more exhausting than anything I have done before.’

  ‘Hear, hear,’ Andrews cut in. ‘Quite a challenge for you.’ He was being overly pleasant to me and I could not help but think it pity.

  ‘He’s a well-behaved boy,’ Chard Williams continued. ‘A credit to his mother.’

  ‘Do you have children of your own?’ I asked, and the man shook his head.

  ‘I married late in life, I’m afraid. But my wife is young and she does love looking after babies for others, so perhaps one day …’ He gestured towards a tall, thin woman, still in her twenties, who was talking to Juliana. She did not have Juliana’s beauty, but the difference in the Chard Williams’ ages was not dissimilar to that between Juliana and I, and once again I felt a failure and wished for this interminable day to end. I was tired of being sensible, ever-reliable Dr Thomas Bond. I was a man too, and I felt as deeply as any other.

  As soon as Chard Williams had left us to rejoin his wife, little James came back over and lingered at my side.

  ‘He’s very fond of you, isn’t he?’ Andrews said, looking down at the boy. ‘I think two weeks in his charge might be good for both of you. Will you come here, or take him to Westminster?’

  ‘I bring my things over tomorrow,’ I said. ‘He has his classes and Juliana has arranged a nanny to look after him until I return home if I have to work late.’ James hadn’t reacted to my words; he was watching his mother talking to his tutors. I still could not warm to the boy, but I did feel an empathy with him. He had been Juliana’s entire world for such a long time – she wouldn’t leave him for an hour, let alone two weeks – but now he, like I, had been abandoned, at least partially. His love was no longer enough for her. She wanted instead to bask in the bright sun of Edward Kane. Young James and I, we were inextricably linked to the past, to Harrington and to all the darkness and grief of that time. Perhaps he felt some of the loss that I suffered, although the affection Juliana felt for him would never recede into simple fondness, as it had for me. She would always love him, for he was a constant reminder of the good man she had once loved. To me, however, he was a constant reminder of a monster I had killed.

  ‘Go and play, James,’ I said, suddenly wishing him away from my side. ‘Enjoy the sunshine while it lasts.’ He did as he was told without a word, leaving me alone with Andrews. He appeared to be as reluctant to mingle as I was, and the reason, after another glass of champagne and a little small talk about his retirement, soon became clear.

  ‘Thomas, I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while. I called on you two evenings in a row, after Kane told me of his engagement, but you were not home.’

  So Edward Kane had told Andrews rather than speak to me himself – had the American wormed his way into Andrews’ close circle of friends too? Was I to have nothing left?

  ‘I just wanted to say – well, how truly sorry I am.’

  ‘Sorry?’ I asked. On some level I wanted him to feel uncomfortable; after all, he had encouraged me to press my suit with Juliana. If it had not been for him, my pain would be private.

  ‘For – well, I know how you feel about her. This cannot be easy for you.’

  ‘Oh, come, come, Walter. She is a beautiful young woman – anyone can see that Edward Kane is a better suitor for her tha
n I could ever have been. In part at least, my proposal was because she was still fragile, prone to illness, and I was very worried about her. However, she is clearly flourishing and I could not be happier for her.’ I was overdoing it, I knew that, but I could not stop myself. ‘I can now enjoy my impending retirement without worrying about domestic duties.’

  ‘I know that you are a true gentleman,’ Andrews started, studying me, ‘but there is no shame in admitting hurt feelings. I too feel bad, for I know I was eager for you to propose to her, and I know she was not clear in her responses.’

  My hand tightened slightly around the delicate glass stem of my glass. It appeared that Kane and Andrews had had quite the heart-to-heart about me. Heat burned my cheeks. Was I to be left with no dignity?

  ‘I did feel hurt, I will admit that,’ I conceded. Andrews had a sharp eye and I did not want him worrying about me, or paying me undue attention, not in my current situation. ‘But I have had time to adjust to the idea.’ I looked over to where Kane stood, strong and handsome and laughing in the bright sunshine, not a care in the world. ‘And you and I, Walter, we are no longer young men. I think perhaps love is best suited for the young, don’t you?’

  Finally he smiled, his face filled with relief. ‘I am glad you see it that way too, Thomas. I do think he will be very good for her. She has certainly changed since she has known him, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, forcing a smile. ‘Yes, I do believe she has.’ So even my old friend was relieved that Juliana had escaped a future with me. I drank my champagne too quickly, the fizz of bubbles racing to my head. I knew I was being unreasonable; of course Andrews was right – indeed, more than he could ever possibly know. I would not have been the best match for Juliana, even before my terrible affliction, but she had been my one hope of a happy future. But I realised I had hoped that Walter Andrews might at least have seen some positives in my steady, if unexciting, love. Apparently not. And now all I saw in my future was a ceaseless struggle against an evil that should never even have been part of my life.

  ‘We should have dinner soon,’ Andrews said, relaxed now our awkward moment was over. ‘We used to do so regularly, and of late we have not – we must rectify that.’

  ‘We shall,’ I said, ‘once my temporary parenting duties are over.’ In that moment, I could happily never have laid eyes on Walter Andrews again, for all he had been an old and true friend to me for so many years.

  *

  It was strange to be alone with James without his mother there, but we quickly settled into a quiet, comfortable routine. For the most part we did not see each other that often; I would spend the day in the city and then return in the evening and we would eat a quiet supper together. I would ask him about his studies, and then it would be time for him to go to bed. Our relationship was stilted – I had never been quite sure how one was supposed to engage with children – but I did my best. When I asked him if he missed his mother he shrugged and said a little, but he would not be drawn on the subject. One night, when I had a very early inquest to attend, he stayed at the Chard Williams’ house – for which I paid them a generous fee – and although he did not complain, he was quieter after that. I found myself feeling bad that I had been so happy to spend a night in my own home with no company. The boy had, after all, lost his father, and now his beloved mother had remarried; the world must have seemed a very different place for him. Many boys of his age were more independent but it was not his fault he was not like them. His mother had kept him tied to her apron strings. I made a promise to myself that I would try to engage with him more, and after that I attempted to play games of his choosing rather than merely dryly discussing the events of the day. The weather was still warm so we took to the garden, and I was pleased to discover the fresh air did as much to raise my spirits as his. I had had no new fever and I could almost imagine that my life was normal again, especially away from the presence of my cellar and the knowledge of the deeds committed there.

  His screams woke me first at the start of the second week. I sat up in bed, my heart pounding, staring wildly around me, disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. I pushed back the covers and ran in only my nightshirt along the corridor and burst into James’ room.

  ‘What? What is it? What has happened?’

  I looked around in the gloom for a sign of some intruder, but there was nothing, just the boy, sitting bolt-upright in his bed, his eyes wide and staring at some remnant of his disappearing dream. I sat on his bed, and in the dawn light I could see his face was covered in sweat, darkening his blond hair at the hairline. For a moment it made me think of blood.

  ‘It was just a bad dream,’ I said, as slowly his focus came back to me. ‘Everything is fine – there is nothing to worry about.’ I eased him back down and tucked his sheet around him. ‘Now, go back to sleep.’ He didn’t speak a word and I wondered if he had really woken at all. His eyes closed, and after a moment his breathing steadied and I went back to my own bed where I lay awake until breakfast, my imagination forcing images of Juliana and Edward Kane into my head that I had no desire to see.

  The nightmares came the next night, and the night after, and on the third, by which time I was exhausted as much by my broken sleep as by the expectation of being woken. This time I lit the lamp in his room and shook him gently until he was fully awake. Once again his skin was clammy and his nightshirt damp.

  ‘What is it, James?’ I asked. ‘What is bothering you? What do you dream?’ My own skin had started to burn slightly in the night and I knew that soon I would feel the first touch of the fever that came with my peculiar infection. I needed my strength, and for that I needed a decent night’s sleep. ‘Your mother will be home in a few days. There is nothing to worry about.’

  He stared at me for a moment. ‘I was in the river,’ he said, eventually. ‘All tied up.’

  My heart froze and I pulled my hand away from his. Suddenly I saw every echo of his father in his young face. ‘It was just a dream,’ I repeated. ‘You are safe in bed, James, in your own home.’

  ‘I … I …’ he started to say, his bottom lip trembling, ‘I saw something.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ My mouth had dried. What was this? What could he possibly have seen? ‘It was just a dream.’ I stood up, no longer wanting to be near him, as if he were the Upir itself detached from me and taken human form.

  ‘But I—’

  I tried to calm myself. I was being ridiculous. There could be nothing sinister in young James’ dreams; this was simply a memory playing out in a dream.

  ‘You fell into the river, not so long ago,’ I said, ‘you remember? When you tumbled from the rowing boat? I imagine that is what this nightmare is about.’ My heart rate was returning to normal; of course that was what this was about. I had to stop seeing suspicion everywhere. What could young James know about my deeds, after all? Nothing. I might not be able to bring myself to love him as I should, but that did not mean he somehow knew of my secret life. And yet still I trembled. It was the words he had used: I saw something. It had made me think of Kosminski and his strange visions.

  He shook his head, as if trying to clear it. ‘I saw something,’ he repeated plaintively, almost as if he knew how much the phrase disturbed me, although of course he could not possibly know that.

  ‘Go to sleep,’ I said, firmly, turning the light out. ‘You are too old for this kind of childish fear.’ Cowed by the sharp tone in my voice he curled back up under the covers, but his face was still full of woe.

  ‘Dead girls in the river.’

  He spoke so quietly that I almost missed his words, but they drifted across the room and snared my attention. Dead girls? Was that some kind of threat? Had he seen me in his dream? I stared at him from the dark doorway. ‘Go to sleep,’ I snapped, barely able to draw breath.

  I closed the door and then almost fell against the wall. I clutched the doorjamb and let out a juddering sigh before summoning the strength to get back to my room. The house felt c
laustrophobic and I craved the sanctuary of my own home, even with all its dark secrets.

  I stared into the mirror, my reflection shades of blue and black in the gloom. Patches had appeared on my cheeks and my skin was hot. Fear made the Upir hungry, and if I was to make some attempt to save my soul I could not leave it much longer before I found a villainess for the part.

  The next night when he screamed himself awake I pretended not to hear. I remained in my room and stared at the ceiling until the sobbing finally stopped.

  *

  It was a relief when Juliana and Kane returned two days later. They were flushed with happiness and health and breezed into the house full of energy and vitality and clearly entirely in love with each other. It was a sharp contrast to the depressing atmosphere that had hung over the house since James’ nightmares had started, but they appeared not to notice. James ran to his mother, then Kane swung him up onto his shoulders and for the first time in two weeks the boy laughed aloud.

  ‘Has all been well?’ Juliana asked as she kissed me chastely on the cheek and thanked me for all I had done. Her eyes were kind, but I saw pity in them, I was certain. How could she even respect me after the apparent ease with which I had accepted her marriage to another?

  ‘Yes, of course,’ I said. ‘We have got along fine, haven’t we, young man? But now I really must get back to my own home and leave you to unpack and settle back in.’