Flora’s stomach lurched as she watched him go, recalling the shabby sitting room of his uncle’s house he called home. She chose not to dwell on his possession of the blackjack.
Following, Maddox placed one foot on the short flight of steps, then checked himself. ‘Oh, Harrington. You’ll never guess who the boss of this villainous gang is.’ Without waiting for a response, he stomped up the wooden steps and disappeared through the hatch.
Bunny frowned. ‘What did he mean by that?’
‘Our Salvation Army imposter, Lieutenant Brodie, is in fact Claude Martell,’ Flora said proudly. ‘Whom I sincerely hope is in shackles by now.’
‘Martell?’ Bunny’s frown deepened. ‘The effeminate little Frenchman who owns the tea room?’
‘There was nothing lady-ish about him earlier when he realized I had ruined his plans.’
‘Oh dear.’ Bunny wrapped an arm round her shoulders and drew her closer. ‘You’ll have to get your cakes from somewhere else now, I imagine.’
‘Not funny.’ Flora nudged him with an elbow.
‘Sir,’ a policeman stuck his head through the hatch. ‘We’re back at the pier now if you and the lady wish to disembark.’
‘Indeed we do, thank you officer.’ Bunny finally released Flora, and together they made their way up to the deck.
The incoming tide had lifted the river almost level with the pier, cutting off the route to the Horsleydown steps and the beach they had walked on less than an hour ago that was now in full darkness, the quayside just a blurred grey outline.
The river lapped at the quayside, on which two police vans and a hackney were parked. Several shadowy figures moved between them, the small orange flames of lanterns that swung from their hands gave an eerie but reassuring atmosphere to the dark riverside.
The Bermondsey Boxer had been tied securely to the pier, a police launch moored alongside, from which Claude Martell and a burly man in a shabby black overcoat were being marched off onto the jetty. A shadow detached from the fog and bounded along the jetty towards them.
Abel Cain leapt onto the boat in one stride. ‘The Inspector said Sally was here!’ His eager expression dissolved. ‘Sorry, Miss Flora. I didn’t think. Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine, Abel, thank you for asking.’ She couldn’t help smiling as he shifted from foot to foot. ‘Go on. Sally’s down below.’
Beaming, he sidled past them and clattered down the steps into the cabin.
‘I should be angry with him for leaving you at the hospital,’ Bunny said as he disappeared through the hatch. ‘But he wasn’t to know you would come rushing down here.’
‘You cannot blame Abel. Besides, all he was thinking about was finding Sally. I want to stay and see her brought out. She’s been heavily drugged and I need to know she’ll be all right.’
‘Are you sure? I would be happier staying here with you.’
‘No need. She nodded to where the boy sat with his feet dangling over the edge of the barge, the flaps of his boots turned outwards. ‘Take Albert to the quay. I don’t suppose they have found Alice and Lydia yet? They took the other children to hide from the gang.’
‘I’ll see what I can find out and see you on the quay later.’ He approached Albert, urging him to his feet. ‘Come on, old chap.’
Flora retrieved a lit lantern that had been left on the deck, its small flame comforting as she waited for Abel to reappear. The temperature had dropped in the last half-hour, and shivering, she stamped her feet to get her circulation going.
‘Have we got them all?’ Inspector Maddox spoke to one of his men from the deck of the police barge that had moored alongside the Bermondsey Boxer.
‘I’m afraid not, sir,’ a disembodied voice answered. ‘Swifty Ellis pushed an officer into the drink and made a run for it. He must still be on the dock somewhere. I’ve sent a couple of men to look for him.’
Flora’s stomach lurched. They couldn’t let him get away.
Chapter 29
Flora’s gaze remained on Maddox’s retreating back as he stomped along the pier towards the quayside, her thoughts squarely on Swifty. She was sure he had returned to the barge, but how had he managed to elude the police when they reached the pier? Distracted, she didn’t register the figure which approached out of the gloom until her features solidified into a familiar, and welcome face.
‘Alice!’ She released a relieved breath. ‘I’m so glad you’re all right. And the children?’
‘They’re fine. We heard the whistles as the police launch arrived, so we felt it was safe to bring the children out of the stairs and onto the quayside. They’ve become quite excitable after their adventure. Which might have to do with the fact I promised them cocoa and biscuits when we get to the hospital.’
‘I had to make sure you were unhurt.’ Her eyes glittered as if she was near to tears, but it might have been a trick of the light as the pier was filled with policemen carrying lanterns.
‘Lydia volunteered to go to the hospital, but she said to tell you that she’ll call on you tomorrow at Eaton Place after we have all had a good night’s sleep.’ She crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed her upper arms. ‘It’s getting quite cold now. Are you sure you’re not injured? Young Albert said you had had an altercation with Ruth Lazarus.’
‘Oh, that.’ Flora doubted that was precisely the word Albert had used. ‘It was something and nothing.’ She decided not to mention being punched, or the needle, which Maddox had removed from the barge. ‘It was when the engines started up and we took off down river when things became frightening. I’m so relieved Maddox managed to talk the Marine Police into helping.’
‘From what I heard, it was more Bunny’s threat to go to the newspapers with the story if they didn’t act.’ She took a step closer, her face thrown into sharp relief by the lantern in Flora’s hand. ‘Is it true what I heard one of the policemen say? That Swifty is still out there?’
‘I’m afraid so.’ Flora turned towards the river as it flowed steadily upstream, the surface black and almost oily beneath a pall of yellowish-grey fog. ‘The place is crawling with officers now, so he won’t get far,’ she said with more confidence than she felt.
‘Don’t underestimate him, Flora. He could just as easily disappear into the London underworld, never to be seen again.’
Flora shuddered, though not from the cold.
The sound of footsteps drew their attention to where Abel emerged from the open hatch with Sally draped over one shoulder, her dark hair hanging down his broad back. Despite her diminutive size, the manoeuvre must have proved awkward in the narrow space beneath the low roof.
‘Goodness, is that your maid?’ Alice crept closer. ‘Is she all right? She’s very pale.’
‘I thought she was going to wake up a minute ago, but she drifted off again,’ Abel said, his voice gruff with worry.
‘We must get her to St Phil’s to be examined by a doctor.’ Alice placed one foot on the deck, the other still on the jetty, and extended a hand to help guide him off.
Abel raised a foot about to leap the narrow gap between the two, when Alice glanced past Flora’s shoulder. She froze. Her eyes widened and she screamed ‘Fleur!’
The seconds stretched as Flora processed what Alice had said, but immediately dismissed it as having misheard. A violent shove to her shoulder knocked her sideways, her hip glancing off the corner of the cabin as she fell. A sharp pain seared through her side as she hit the deck with both knees, her breath expelled from her lungs in a rush at the same time she heard a loud splash and a female cry.
The lantern slipped from her hand and shattered on the deck with a tinkling crash, the sharp smell of paraffin irritated her nostrils, followed by a whoosh as the flame drank up the pool of spilled oil on the wood. Instinctively she scrambled away from the flame, which bloomed briefly, but quickly guttered out.
She lay where she had landed on deck, her hands flat against the boards as she tried to inhale, but her muscles wouldn’t work benea
th the confines of her corset, leaving her gasping for breath.
Finally, she gasped in a lungful of sulphur-laden air – also soot laden and smoky but it was air. She exhaled in relief and taking another shallow breath, then one more as she eased upright, wincing at the pain which stabbed through her left side.
Abel had fallen onto one knee, Sally still draped over his shoulder. He started to rise when the figure raised his boot and brought it down on the back of the bigger man’s knee. Sally slipped from his hold and dropped like a rag doll onto the deck, her top half hanging over the side.
There was no sign of Alice, until a movement on the water brought Flora’s gaze to where, arms flailing, Alice’s head broke the surface a dozen yards away from the pier.
Flora’s pulse raced as she tried to decide who needed her most; Alice, in her heavy uniform dress and coat being dragged beneath the Thames, or Sally, who slipped further towards the water with each dip and heave of the barge.
‘Flora!’ Bunny’s heavy footsteps pounded along the jetty towards her.
‘Never mind me,’ she screamed, a shaking finger pointed to where Alice struggled in the dark water. ‘Get Alice!’
Bunny did not hesitate. He kicked off his shoes and shrugged out of his overcoat, flinging it over a nearby mooring post that stuck up from the pier. He raised his arms and dived into the river, surfaced within seconds and struck out, arm over arm towards the figure in the water.
Flora crawled, painfully and slowly towards Sally, who lay face down, one leg bent beneath her and her arms draped over the side of the boat, one hand trailing in the oily water.
Abel staggered to his feet, one hand held against his head as he gazed round, confused.
‘It’s Swifty!’ Flora cried. ‘He’s trying to start up the engines!’ When he hesitated, she shouted, ‘go on. I’ll help Sally.’
With a final, worried glance at Sally, Abel nodded, and took off after him.
Flora stared round in search of Inspector Maddox, who couldn’t be far away, when a shape materialized out of the gloom. Swifty must have caught him unawares as he lay, face down and motionless on the pier. She debated what to do, when he stirred, raised a hand to his temple and eased into a sitting position. Obviously groggy, he climbed to his feet, his gaze searching the pier until he settled on Flora. ‘You all right, Mrs Harrington?’
‘I’m fine. Swifty’s trying to start the engines. Abel’s trying to stop him.’ One look at his swaying form told her he was in no state to fight anyone. ‘You’ll need more men. They probably can’t see what’s happening in this fog.’
He nodded, turned and took off along the pier in a rolling, unsteady gait while calling for reinforcements.
By this time, Swifty had reached the engine housing and was fumbling with the catch in an effort to get the door open when Abel lurched forward and slammed a hand down on the box, almost trapping his fingers. With a yell, Swifty ducked smartly to one side, plucked a pole from a line of cleats attached to the bulkhead and swung it to one side at knee-height, his lips drawn back from his teeth in a malicious snarl.
Abel saw it coming and swivelled his upper body so the pole whooshed past him, gouging a five-inch slice into the deck before rolling away.
Cursing, Swifty lunged for the pole, scrambled upright and hefted it again, but the blow must have been weak and ill thought out, for Abel caught it in mid-flight, tugged it from the smaller man’s grasp, and threw it overboard.
Swifty put his head down and with a furious roar, charged Abel’s midsection, bringing him crashing onto the deck inches from where Sally lay.
The fast-running tide heaved the barge on their right upwards, the mooring ropes pulled taut, then loosened again, bringing the two hulls together with a screech of metal on metal. The barge tilted alarmingly, halting Flora in her painful crawl towards Sally, who slid a few inches further over the side. Flora froze until the boat levelled out, one foot braced against the lip of the deck, a hand extended as far as she could reach, but Sally was still too far away. She gritted her teeth against the pain in her hip and crept closer, hooked her fingers into the waistband of Sally’s skirt and hauled backwards with all her strength. Her efforts were useless, as without leverage, Sally was a dead weight and wouldn’t budge. If the barge tilted again, Sally would go into the Thames and with darkness closing in they might never find her.
From the corner of her eye, Swifty aimed a blow at Abel which he sidestepped, hooked his arm round the smaller man’s neck and leaned backwards, pulling them onto the deck again where Swifty resisted with a frantic thrashing of legs and arms.
She prayed Bunny had reached Alice and had managed to get her out of the cold and unforgiving water, trying not to think of an article she had read once, that people rescued from the Thames often died from infections at a later date.
The two grappling figures of Abel and Swifty had worked their way to the bow end of the barge, both little more than blurred shadows in the fog, indistinguishable apart from their contrasting size. The smaller man lunged again, throwing both arms round Abel’s thighs, and dragged him to the deck where the fight continued, interspersed with grunts and shouts of pain as blows landed.
Swifty twisted free from Abel’s grasp and bounced on his toes in a boxer’s stance, aiming shadow punches into the air.
Abel squared up to him, and with impressive skill, aimed a right-hand jab at Swifty that caught him full in the face. His arms dropped to his sides and he stiffened, but made no sound, simply tumbled backwards over the edge as the barge swung to one side and crashed against the hull of the one that lay alongside.
*
A deathly silence fell over the riverside, broken only by the slap of the water against the hulls as the barges bumped together, lifted slightly before they bounced apart again.
‘I’m coming, Flora! Hang on!’ Bunny yelled as he ran along the jetty towards her, leaving wet footprints on the wood. ‘Don’t let go of her!’
‘That’s easy for you to say, you’re not wearing the corset!’ she uttered through gritted teeth. Her arms felt pulled from their sockets as she strained backwards, terrified the material hooked round her cramped fingers would tear and Sally tumble over the side, but she held on, her ribs screaming with pain.
Bunny sank to his knees on the edge of the barge, leaned down and grabbed Sally around her waist and eased her onto the deck. Water dripped from his clothes and his hair was plastered to his head. His glasses were gone and he gave off a silty smell. In a series of slides and awkward lifts, together, they eased Sally onto the deck.
She had begun to wake and, disoriented, struggled feebly against the hands that lifted her onto the jetty. Her skin felt clammy, but she was warm to the touch, and shivering.
‘That’s good isn’t it?’ Flora asked. ‘That she’s shivering?’
Before he could answer, Abel staggered towards them, manoeuvred Bunny out of the way and dropped to one knee. ‘Sally, Sally wake up. It’s me.’ He wrapped one arm around her and brushed her damp hair away from her face with the other, murmuring apologies for having left her.
‘Her breathing is better and she’s starting to come round. But, Abel, you’re injured.’ Flora indicated a dark trickle of blood that worked its way down the side of his face. ‘You should have a doctor look at you.’
‘Never mind me. I’ve had worse.’ Abel waved her away, his attention on Sally as her eyes snapped open. She stared around for a few seconds, then moaned and scrambled into a sitting position, knees splayed beneath her skirt, and hands pressed against her forehead.
‘How do you feel, Sally?’ Flora asked.
‘Got one corker of an ’eadache,’ she slurred her words as if her lips wouldn’t work properly. ‘Where the ’ell are we? I’m freezing!’
‘Take her to the hackney, Abel,’ Bunny gestured vaguely towards the quay. ‘She needs to be kept warm and they have blankets over there.’
Nodding, Abel scooped Sally into his arms and carried her along the pier as if she we
ighed nothing.
‘You’re soaking wet!’ Flora said, grimacing at Bunny, who shook his head like a dog, spraying her with dirty water.
‘It’s not as if I could have had a bath in between rescues.’ His voice was sharp, but the look he slanted at her was amused.
‘Sorry, it was merely an observation.’ She flexed her wrists to restore the circulation and rolled each shoulder in turn. ‘And I wouldn’t want you to catch cold. Is Alice all right?’
‘Wet, cold and furious. The tide is in so I had to swim with her all the way back to the quay, which took me longer than I thought. Once we were on the quayside, she ordered me back here to check on you.’ He caught Flora’s sideways look and added, ‘not that she need to of course. I left her bundled up in blankets in the hackney cab over there. Reluctantly, I might add.’
‘Thank goodness.’ Flora sighed. ‘I was so frightened when I saw her go into the river. Are the police here yet?’ She pushed herself to her feet, but her sore hip protested and she buckled.
‘Careful.’ His arms came round her waist in a firm, reassuring hold and he hauled her back upright. ‘A Black Maria pulled up a moment ago with the hackney.’
‘And Raymond Buchanan? Where’s he?’
‘What’s with all these questions?’ he gave her another oblique look, ‘the superintendent wanted to get his story down from the beginning, so he’s still at the police station. But never mind all that, we can talk about it later. I’m more worried about you. Are you in pain?’
‘Aching and sore, but I doubt it’s permanent. And I could ask the same of you.’ She smoothed his wet hair from his brow. ‘You’re wet through and your teeth are chattering. And you’ve lost your glasses.’
‘Not lost, I hope. I shoved them into my coat pocket at the last second before I jumped in. I found my shoes but I don’t suppose you can see my coat anywhere?’ He tucked his arm through hers, and in a series of hops and staggers, they made their way slowly along the jetty.
The Forgotten Children Page 31