by Alex Reeve
Audrey had been so pleased. She was reopening the brothel under her own management, once again aiming for an elegant style, after Elizabeth Brafton had chosen to retire. The new proprietress had asked what she could do to repay me, cocking her hip in that way she had, and seemed genuinely shocked when I told her what I wanted. She’d spread the word to other girls from all over London, and now Alfie had been fixing teeth for a fortnight solid, and was selling them face creams, powders and all sorts of other ladies’ things besides, and hoping Constance wouldn’t notice the looks their neighbours were giving them.
In truth, she was too busy to notice anything, as the proud owner of a new tabby kitten with sharp teeth and a pleasing way of chasing cotton reels around the floor. She’d named it Colly after the Coleoptera beetles that cured … whatever it was. Something that wasn’t ulcers.
Alfie was so grateful he’d offered me room and board at no charge, at least for now, while business was good and I was recovering. But I would soon be able to pay him rent again, with any luck. I’d received a reply to one of my letters that morning from a Mr Sweeting, the clerk to the bursar at St Thomas’s Hospital, who would be delighted to interview me for the post of junior porter. Greatorex had even agreed to write me a reference, though he’d insisted on coming round to check my injury for himself, just to be sure. Alfie and I had persuaded him to share a glass of ale with us before he traipsed back to work.
Alfie went back inside to tend to his next customer, and Rosie shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
‘You’re … you’re welcome to come over to the shop and talk to me when you’re properly recovered, you know. I’d like some company once in a while. You’ll have to pay for the pie, mind.’
She looked away when I didn’t immediately reply, and I could see her neck blushing pink. It would have been lovely to say yes, of course, and spend the afternoon with her at her pie shop, chatting about this and that while she kneaded pastry and sliced apples. But I could not. It would be a betrayal.
‘That’s very kind, but … I’m not certain I’ll be able to come and see you. I’m so tired. I’m sorry.’
She stood, seemingly on the verge of saying something but then changing her mind about what it would be. ‘All right then, suit yourself. I can’t sit around here wasting time. Pies don’t cook themselves, you know.’
‘Rosie … maybe one day I will visit you. When I’m ready. Just not yet.’
She nodded, and gave me a tense little smile as she left. I watched her bonnet bobbing among the other pedestrians until she was lost from sight at the corner. I had decided not to tell her the truth: that it was her who had killed Maria. What would be gained by her knowing? Better she lived happily in ignorance than had to bear that burden.
Ripley had arrested Nancy Gainsford for Maria’s murder. It seemed fitting somehow; she and Hugo were both guilty, just not of the crimes they would hang for. It was imperfect justice, but then, as Ripley himself had once said, it was an imperfect world.
I closed my eyes again, enjoying the warmth of the sun on my face.
The previous day I had taken a cab to the cemetery to visit Maria’s grave. The church bells had been tolling, growing quieter as I headed out of the city, and then the next set had grown louder, until I passed those also, and then the next ones had taken over, and then the next, and the next, and so I was accompanied all the way by music.
I sat beside her for an hour, not saying anything, just listening to the birds in the trees and the sound of her voice, and the thump, thump, thump of her heels against the frame of the bed.
Acknowledgements
I owe so many people for so many things, and I apologise with all my heart to anyone who feels they should have been acknowledged here, but isn’t. I promise to include you in the next one, subject to my exhaustive terms and conditions.
My immense and eternal thanks to Carrie Plitt, the best agent ever, for her support, encouragement and expert guidance, and for her belief in Leo and his story.
My huge gratitude to Alison Hennessey, chief of the ravens at Bloomsbury, for making it into what it is. Alison also acted as Leo’s therapist, such that I had the question ‘and how does he feel about that?’ stuck on my wall to save time. All the team at Raven Books are simply amazing, and my massive thanks also go to Marigold Atkey, Sarah-Jane Forder, Callum Kenny and Francesca Sturiale for their professionalism, commitment and general brilliance. You couldn’t find a group of people more enthusiastic about books.
Thank you to Greg Heinemann for designing the fabulous cover.
I’m immensely grateful to Dr Jane Hamlin at the Beaumont Society for her excellent feedback, insight and patience. The Beaumont Society does important work supporting the transgender community and advising on transgender issues. You can find them at www.beaumontsociety.org.uk.
Big thanks to Cath Harries for taking a photo that both looks human and is of me; a remarkable achievement.
Also Jo Unwin, who gave me such generous support and advice.
It seems redundant, even clichéd, to thank one’s mother, but she always said I should write a novel one day, and then I did, so thanks Mum. Also for, you know, creating me and all that.
My two sons, Seth and Caleb, were full of splendid ideas. Unfortunately, the zombie versus alien sub-plot didn’t make the final draft this time, but I promise to consider the option of Leo becoming an android for the next one.
And finally, Michelle. No words can satisfactorily acknowledge her contribution to this novel or anything else in my life, so a squeeze of the hand and a brief nod will have to suffice, and then we’ll get on with the laundry.
A Note on the Author
Alex Reeve lives in Buckinghamshire and is a university lecturer, working on a PhD. The House on Half Moon Street is his debut, and the first in a series of books featuring Leo Stanhope.
@storyjoy
First published in Great Britain 2018
This electronic edition published in 2018 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
Copyright © Alex Reeve, 2018
Map © Martin Lubikowski, ML Design, 2018
Alex Reeve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as author of this work
The moral right of the author has been asserted
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ISBN 978 1 4088 9270 1
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