‘And Lizzie?’ Flora unwound her legs and adjusted her skirt from where it had bundled round her hips as she fell. ‘What about her?’
‘She should have kept out of it. I had no idea she worked at the Corks, which was against hospital rules.’ Her lips curled into a sneer, twisting her unremarkable features into near ugliness.
‘It was you she argued with that night at The Antigillican? You threatened her.’
‘When she saw us dressed in our Sally Army uniforms and knew something wasn’t right. I warned her then not to breathe a word or she’d regret it, but she couldn’t wait to run back to Matron Finch with her story.’
But you got to her first. ‘Did Lizzie know you were blackmailing Mr Buchanan?’
‘Don’t know, don’t care,’ Ruth snorted, triumphant. ‘Worked though, didn’t it? Buchanan would have done anything to stop me showing that dirty picture to his Board of Governors. Thought he was such a gentleman, and all the time—’
‘He was, I mean he is. For you to involve him in kidnapping children was despicable.’ She doubted an appeal to Ruth’s better nature would work, but couldn’t help herself.
‘How could I not, more like?’ Ruth snorted. ‘Beats spending my life cleaning up after a bunch of whiney, snotty kids.’
A thump of feet came from above, followed by Swifty’s voice ordering they cast off. Seconds later by the sound of the engine that roared into life, growing louder before settling into a low thrum that reverberated through the floor.
They were leaving! Swifty must have given up, or worse, he had found the children.
Flora listened carefully, but no lighter footsteps or children’s voices followed. The hatch remained shut.
‘About time,’ Ruth snarled, scrutinizing the cabin ceiling. ‘We’ll be in Tilbury before you know it.’ Her look reflected relief as well as triumph. ‘Not that it makes much difference to you.’ She reached beneath her and slid back a door in the side of the bench, from which she brought a black box about eight inches long and half as wide, placing it on the seat beside her.
‘Don’t you move.’ She levelled the sap below Flora’s chin, and using her free hand, flipped open the lid to reveal a metal and glass syringe half filled with an opaque pale orange liquid.
‘Wh-what are you doing?’ Flora scooted further along the bench, her pulse racing. She reached the end and scrambled to her feet, but there was nowhere to go in the small space.
‘Exactly what I was told.’ Ruth’s thin lips twisted into a parody of a smile. ‘It’s something to make you sleep. Permanently,’ she rolled the word on her tongue.
‘I thought Swifty had other plans?’ What was she saying? Life in a brothel was better than death? Maybe not. Her stomach lurched as an image of Bunny reaching the quayside, only to watch helplessly as the barge disappeared downstream.
Would he ever be able to find her in the stews Swifty frequented? Would he want to? No, she daren’t not think like that.
‘Best to follow Claude’s orders. He’s the boss.’ Ruth tucked the sap into a pocket of her gown, removed the glass syringe and held it up to her eye, slowly pushing the plunger which released a drop of liquid onto the point of the needle.
‘You don’t want to do this, Ruth.’ Flora’s voice shook. She was about to add it would get her the rope, but what difference would that make when she had already killed Lizzie?
‘You’d be surprised at what I want to do.’ Ruth raised an eyebrow as if the idea appealed.
Flora’s whirling thoughts clarified into one overriding emotion; the will to survive. Her son needed her. Bunny needed her. Pleading with Ruth was not an option; she had already showed she had no heart, but then nor was allowing herself to be killed. The seconds stretched interminably, when suddenly, the barge lurched to one side as the vessel changed course and went into a sharp turn with a grinding of engines.
Flora tensed, then in an impulse born of sheer desperation, threw her full weight at Ruth, slamming her back against the bulkhead.
Ruth issued an angry cry and swung the needle in a sweeping arc which missed Flora’s eye by a fraction. Flora caught her hand in both of hers on the backwards swing, but doubled over as Ruth jabbed her other hand into Flora’s ribs. Pain, sudden and excruciating made her gasp. One hand went instinctively to her midriff but she had the presence of mind to hang on with the other, keeping the syringe aloft and away from her skin.
Flora twisted her hand on Ruth’s wrist as hard as she could until the tendons stood out with the effort to release herself. With a frustrated grunt, Ruth raked her fingernails of her free hand down Flora’s face. At the last instant, Flora saw what was coming and jerked her chin back so that the blow ended uselessly in mid-air.
Flora’s triumph was short lived when Ruth stamped hard on Flora’s instep. Flora bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, the coppery tang on her tongue reminding her she had to gain the upper hand – and quickly as Ruth didn’t appear to be tiring. She had shifted her grip on the glass phial, holding it like a knife that she brought down towards Flora’s neck.
Flora grabbed her hand in mid-air and pulled sideways as hard as she could, bringing them crashing onto the cabin floor in a tangle of arms and legs with Flora uppermost; the sap in Ruth’s pocket swinging against Flora’s thigh hard enough to cause a bruise.
Ruth was taller, but her delicate, sparse frame was no match for Flora’s slender strength, helped by the fact there was no space for Ruth to gain any purchase for her to wriggle out from beneath her.
Ruth cursed and issued dire threats through gritted teeth, her feet drumming the floor while refusing to release her grip on the syringe.
Flora realized that if she did manage to wrestle the object from Ruth’s fingers, and the contents were as deadly as she had implied, using it against her was not an option. Flora had no wish to become a murderess. Self-defence or not.
An idea occurred to her and she shifted her knee on the elbow of Ruth’s free arm while she tried to locate the pocket where Ruth had put the sap. Ruth squirmed, grunting, and after two useless attempts, Flora’s fingers closed around the end of the compact weapon.
Gritting her teeth, she tugged, only for the ball end to snag in the heavy material. Her fingers on Ruth’s hand were slick with sweat but she hung on, gave a final, panicked yank with her other hand which pulled the object free, tearing the taffeta.
Ruth bucked upwards, partly throwing Flora off her, just as she brought the weapon down hard above Ruth’s left ear.
She collapsed without a sound. The syringe dropped from her limp fingers, rolled across the stained lino and came to rest against the bulwark.
During the brief, but frantic struggle, Flora became vaguely aware of a rhythmic thumping and stared fearfully up at the ceiling. Had the men above heard the commotion and on their way down to see what was happening? She scrambled over Ruth’s limp form and pushed up onto her knees, just as the door to the inner cabin opened outwards and Albert burst through, both fists raised and his feet splayed like a pint-sized prize-fighter.
‘Blimey!’ He straightened, dropped both his arms as his gaze went from Flora to Ruth. ’Wot ’appened?’
‘She wasn’t being particularly congenial.’ Flora slumped back on the floor, her breath coming in short, shallow breaths as she fought for calm. ‘I distinctly recall instructing you to stay in there, whatever happened.’
‘I thought you was being killed what with all the racket. Then the door stuck and I couldn’t get out. What’s that?’ He reached for the glass tube that lay on the floor close to his foot.
‘Don’t touch it, Albert!’ Flora swept the object from beneath his reaching fingers. Carefully avoiding the point of the needle, she returned it to the black box and twisted the clasp, closed her eyes with a sigh.
‘Is she dead?’ The boy’s dark eyes probed hers before sliding to Ruth.
‘I doubt it.’ Flora inhaled a ragged breath, followed by another. ‘Would you help me find something we could use to restrain her
?’
‘Rest-what?’
‘Tie her up.’ She gave the cabin a sweeping glance but the small space was frustratingly empty, even the tiny cupboard the box had been kept in.
‘Well why didn’t ya say so?’ He slumped onto the linoleum and started to tug at a pair of stout, if badly worn and scuffed boots. ‘I’ve got these!’
‘Shoelaces.’ Flora smiled. ‘Good boy. Help me tie her hands.’
Albert removed the narrow strips of leather from his shoe flaps, while Flora turned Ruth over, grunting with the effort. In repose, Ruth’s face had lost all its cruelty, although she would never be pretty, and by the look of her misshapen nose, she had broken it when she hit the floor, face first.
‘Pity we don’t have anything to gag her with.’ Flora tied the final knot, rejecting the idea of tearing up her perfectly good petticoat.
‘If she wakes up and yells for that Swifty, you won’t ’alf cop it!’ Albert said, exhibiting an unnerving talent for stating the obvious.
‘If she does, you show her this.’ Flora pressed the sap into his hand. Small but surprisingly heavy, she decided it must have a central core of some sort of metal wrapped in thick black leather.
‘Can I ’it her wiv it?’ His eyes widened.
‘Just show it to her. She’ll get the message.’ Leaving them, Flora climbed the steps to the hatch and tugged the handle, but it wouldn’t budge.
‘They’ve locked us in!’ She punched the wooden cover with a fist as frustration built, aware they were mid-river by now so there was no way to get off the barge without swimming. Defeated, she returned to the bench, pulled back one of the shutters and peered out.
‘Where do yer think we’re going?’ Albert asked. ‘To that ship the Frenchie told us about?’
‘I imagine so.’ She tried to keep the dread from her voice. ‘In which case, we must hope the police get here, and soon.’
‘’Cept we won’t be here, will we. We’ll be at bloody Tilbury!’ He lifted both arms in frustration, revealing his braces beneath a jacket that was too tight across his shoulders.
‘I cannot argue with that.’ Flora sighed, twisted round on the bench and slumped against the bulkhead. ‘We’ll simply have to hope and pray. Is Sally awake?’ she asked to distract him.
‘She was moaning before, but she’s still sleeping.’
‘I’ll take a look at her.’ Flora rose, and patted his head on her way to the rear cabin, but a distant shout from the river sent her scrambling back to the window. Out on the water a dark shape moved through the fog some twenty feet off the stern of the barge. No figures were visible in the mist, but someone must have been on deck as yellow glows bobbed from several lanterns reflected on the water.
Her breath caught in her throat as hope flared. Could it be the police at last?
‘Heave to starboard!’ the same voice shouted, this time from much closer. ‘This is the Thames Marine Police,’ the loudhailer spoke again. ‘We’re about to board your vessel. Heave to, or we open fire.’
Rapid, heavy footsteps came from above, followed by blows and shouts of both authority and protest. The engines spluttered and died abruptly, the hull vibrating as the barge fought against the tide. Light thumps which could have been ropes landing on deck were followed by shouted instructions. A tattoo of footsteps tramped across the deck above their heads.
Flora wrapped a protective arm around Albert as the hatch slid open slowly and Bunny descended the steps. He paused halfway down, his hands braced on the opening above his head as his gaze took in Ruth, then flicked to Albert before coming to rest on Flora.
‘Flora?’ His eyes widened in horror. ‘What are you doing here?’ He gaped.
Releasing Albert, Flora leapt to her feet and threw herself at him with a relieved sob. Taking his face in her hands, she planted a slow, resounding kiss on his lips that were soft, pliant and familiar. His arms closed round her and a sob rose to her throat beneath his mouth.
Finally, she pulled back, her hands clamped on either side of his face. ‘You came after me. And in a boat! How romantic.’
His jacket was damp and scratched the skin of her cheek, the scent of his sandalwood cologne overlaid by coal smoke. He had smuts on his face and hair, and his glasses were askew, but nothing mattered other than he was there.
‘I would have anyway, had I known you were on board.’ He rubbed her back and shoulders in strong, comforting circles. ‘We were coming after Brodie and the other two, but the last thing I expected was you to be on this barge.’ He held her away from him by her upper arms, and stared into her eyes. ‘What on earth are you doing here? I called you at the hospital and told you that under no circumstances were you to come to the river, but you hung up on me.’
‘Hung up?’ She shrugged, sheepish. ‘Really? The line went dead, so I didn’t hear.’
‘Hmmm.’ His eyes roved her face for long seconds, then he released a relieved groan and wrapped her in a suffocating embrace. ‘You’re not hurt are you?’ he asked, his lips against her hair.
‘I’ll have quite a bruise on my chin tomorrow, and in various other places, but no, not really.’ Though she couldn’t stop shaking. Now she was safe, the full implication of what might have happened hit her with full force. Her tightly wound knot of curls had loosened, lying heavily on her neck, though the six-inch hat pin had done its job well, and though askew, her hat remained firmly in place.
‘And who’s this?’ Bunny cocked his chin at Albert, whose brow was creased in a critical frown.
‘Bert Fletcher.’ He sniffed and swiped a hand beneath his nose. ‘Are you ’er ’usband?’
‘I am indeed.’ Bunny grinned and hugged Flora closer.
‘Just as well.’ He folded his arms across his chest, the sap still held firmly in on hand.
Flora stepped smartly away from Bunny as memory returned. ‘Sally’s in the next door cabin. She’s been drugged at some point.’ A thought struck her and she lifted her chin and searched his face. ‘Please tell me you didn’t come alone? That is the police up there?’ She scrutinized the ceiling, from where came a series of thumps and shouts.
He nodded. ‘Between Buchanan and myself, we managed to convince the river police to help with the rounding up, though they were reluctant to go near the SS Lancett again. There are only four men on the launch, but more will meet us at St Saviour’s dock with Black Marias and possibly hackneys, if they can find any in this weather.’
‘I had this awful feeling you might get there and find we had already gone.’ Flora shuddered. ‘I’ve no idea where Abel Cain went either. We didn’t see him when we left the hospital.’
‘He’ll be at the dock by now,’ Bunny said. ‘He turned up at the police station determined to help. Had he known you three were going to wade in like you did, I feel sure he would have stayed.’
‘We could have done with him actually, but never mind. He’ll be glad to know Sally is all right.’
Shouts from above steadily increased in volume, followed by a bump, which Flora assumed must be the police launch tying up alongside. Footsteps pounded across the roof and Inspector Maddox stuck his head through the hatch. ‘Are you there, Harrington?’
‘All safe and unhurt, Inspector,’ Bunny replied without taking his eyes from Flora’s face.
Maddox descended into the cabin, one brow lifted at Ruth, who had come to and pushed herself into a sitting position, her legs splayed out in front of her beneath her skirt. She didn’t speak, but simply regarded them with rebellious eyes. Her bun had loosened in the struggle and she was intermittently blowing stray strands off her face with angry puffs through her lips.
‘Nice work, Mrs Harrington.’ Maddox tipped the edge of his hat in salute. ‘I’m delighted to know you’re safe, despite the fact you ignored all my advice to leave this matter to the professionals.’ The look he exchanged with Bunny told her they had discussed this before.
‘Thank you, Inspector, but I wasn’t alone,’ Flora assured him. ‘Miss Finch and Miss Gre
y were with me. They took the other children to the Horselydown Stairs to await your arrival. Have you located them?’
‘Not yet. Which Stairs did you mean? Old or New?’
‘There are more than one set?’ Flora frowned. ‘The ones just past the curve in quayside.’
‘New.’ Maddox gave a curt nod. ‘We’ll send someone to find them. Now, did I hear you say Miss Pond was down here as well?’
‘In there.’ Flora pointed to the door that swung lopsided on its hinges after Albert’s assault. ‘She’s still suffering the effects of the laudanum and is in no state to be questioned.’
He accepted this with a nod, shoved his hands in his pockets and called up through the open hatch. ‘Constable! Get a couple of men down here and fetch Miss Lazarus out would you? And bring the shackles.’
‘I didn’t know you were acquainted with Ruth Lazarus, Inspector,’ Flora said.
At the sound of her name, Ruth’s eyes darkened as she squirmed furiously against the bindings on her wrists but did not utter a word.
‘I interviewed her at the hospital over the Nurse Prentice case.’ Maddox sniffed, regarding Ruth as if she were a specimen in a zoo. ‘Callous sort of woman. Didn’t think much of her at the time. Dead eyes.’ His hand came down gently on Albert’s shoulder. ‘Now, my lad. We’d best get you back to the shore.’
Albert remained where he was seated on the end of the bench, eying Maddox with suspicion.
‘I don’t talk to coppers.’
‘Indeed?’ Maddox sighed, making Flora wonder how many times he had heard that before. ‘How would you like to go on a police launch?’
‘Can I sound the 'orn?’ The hostility drained from his face and he looked just like any small boy offered a treat.
‘I suppose so.’ Maddox cocked his chin towards the steps.
‘Goodbye, Albert. Maybe we’ll meet again one day?’ Flora bent closer and whispered in his ear. ‘Where’s the sap?’
‘In me pocket. And it’s not a sap, it’s a blackjack.’ He winked, ducked his head and sidled past her. ‘Take care of Sal.’
The Forgotten Children Page 30