D_Whitby's Darkest Secret

by Chris Turnbull

  As I continued down Church Street I did begin to feel a little overdressed, most people in the street were working, and the ladies I passed all wore pinafores. I was the only lady dressed up smartly. I gathered that I stood out quite a bit.

  I briskly continued up the street where I eventually made it to the bottom of the 199 steps. I stopped to admire them, so steep, yet so magnificent looking as they ascended up the cliff side as though they had always been there. Heading around to the left of the stairs was the small street Tom had mentioned; it was even narrower and quieter than Church Street – in fact I was the only person walking the little cobbled road. The houses that lined this street were also smaller: tiny cottages with even smaller front doors all lined the street, no front gardens only the smallest of pavements between them and the narrow road. On the first house was a plaque that named the road, Henrietta Street. I found myself rather amused by the tiny doorways. Albert would have had to bend down to get inside, and even I would have struggled not to bang my head against the top.

  Finally I emerged at the end of the street, and I had a perfect view of the harbour entrance leading out to open sea. As promised a small bench was situated in the perfect position to watch the boats pass by below. The road was indeed a dead end; the pavement continued down towards the pier, but it was quite a steep slope down, and I was higher than expected, so I decided against going any further.

  Taking a seat I admired the view before me and took a deep breath of air, the taste of salt lingering in my mouth, yet it did not bother me. In fact I would go as far to say that I liked it; it was a lot more welcome than the clammy London air I was so used to.

  The book I had been carrying soon drew my attention, and before long I was whisked away into the make-believe world of The Rise of Silas Lapham by William Dean Howells, occasionally looking up and admiring the view again.

  Suddenly I was engulfed by a shadow; I was unsure how this was even possible as it was such a cloudy day to begin with. I looked up from my book, but before I knew it a hand appeared in front of my face and quickly covered my mouth, the leather glove warm against my face.

  ‘Do not scream,’ the husky voice whispered against my ear. I could feel his breath against my neck. Scared as I was I nodded in acknowledgment of his command. He moved around the bench, still holding onto me, and that is when I saw his face. His dark eyes penetrating my own again looked grey against his pale skin; a tired looking top hat hid the mess of hair poking from the sides, and the suit that he wore looked as though he had been wearing it for weeks on end.

  ‘We need to have a serious little talk, you and I.’ He spoke softly to me, yet his voice was deep and threatening. ‘But not here; if you promise me not to scream I will let you go.’ With my eyes bulging wide I again nodded in agreement. He removed his hand slowly, and as promised I refrained from making a sound, yet inside I was crying. My hands began to shake and my throat dried as I tried to speak.

  ‘What do you want with me?’ I finally broke my silence.

  ‘Not here,’ he said, and taking me by the hand he began to lead me away.

  At that moment something inside me burst and I began to shriek. Tears fell down my face and I could no longer stop myself from making a sound. He turned to look at me, angered by my sudden outburst. He raised a threatening hand to me, but this only made my shrieking worse, and I let out a small scream.

  Suddenly his hand came crashing down towards my face and he hit me across the cheek with the back of his gloved hand. I landed with a thud on the cobbled road, banging my head against the hard surface; and when I awoke, I was no longer in the middle of the street.

  Chapter 24

  D.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw Her sitting on a bench reading. What had brought Her to this corner of the town? There was nothing here. As my eyes focused upon her I knew this was possibly my best opportunity. It was the perfect time to claim her for my own.

  Maybe this is why she had come, in hope that I would find her and we could be alone.

  I crept up behind her and stood there for a moment in silence, watching her as she glanced between her book and the sea view before her. I was hesitant as to how to break the silence, unsure how to start a conversation with her, I couldn’t charge in and declare my love to her straight away. She had not realised I was standing behind her, so to avoid any unnecessary screaming I decided it was best to hold her mouth until she had got used to my being there. She was certainly shocked by my sudden arrival, but I promised to let her go if she did not scream.

  ‘What do you want with me?’ she asked.

  ‘Not here,’ I replied. I didn’t like the idea of talking about us in broad daylight. It is not wise for a married woman to be seen talking to another man without the presence of her husband; I knew we were best speaking somewhere more private.

  I took her by her hand, a small dainty hand that fit perfectly within my own, and began to lead her away. We did not get far however before she began having a panic attack. Her breathing became more rapid and her entire body became rigid as though her feet were stuck to the ground. I had heard about these before, but had never witnessed somebody having one. I was certain that the trick was to shock them out of it. I did not want to hit her, so I threatened to slap her first in hope that would calm her. However this seemed to make things worse and she began to scream. Hesitant of wanting to harm her, I took a deep breath and slapped her hard across the face. My heart sank the moment my hand impacted upon her face. She stumbled backwards and landed hard on the ground, her head slamming against the cobbled bricks and knocking her unconscious.

  ‘No!’ I hollered, and threw myself upon her. ‘I am sorry my love, please forgive me.’ I threw my arms around her and pulled her motionless body into me. I could still hear her breathing gently, and her heart was racing hard when I placed my hand against her chest. It was then I noticed the necklace around her beautiful neck, instantly recognisable as Whitby Jet; a gift from her husband no doubt.

  I lifted her chin and looked at her. She was so radiant. She could have almost been mistaken for sleeping within my arms she looked so peaceful. I kissed her gently upon the forehead before trying to move her. I knew it was not safe to keep her on the ground; she needed to be somewhere safe. I took her into my arms before carrying her away. She will be safe with me; I will make sure of that.

  Chapter 25

  Tom

  I was headed into the inn to speak with Mr Walker, and in the doorway bumped into Mrs Summers. She was always so cheerful and seemed pleased to speak to me for a moment.

  ‘Good morning Tom, how are you today?’ Her voice was very posh, and her clothes always looked perfect.

  ‘Very well thank ya Mrs Summers, you going anywhere nice?’ I asked her, it was rare she went anywhere without Mr Summers.

  ‘I thought I would take a walk and find a quiet spot to read my book’ was her reply; I quickly suggested a bench which overlooked the piers, to which she seemed pleased, before wishing me a good day and departing.

  I entered the inn. Mr Walker was in his office as he often was, I knocked on the door and a soft ‘come in’ could be heard coming from the other side.

  ‘Mr Walker I have just come to…’

  ‘Ahh Tom,’ he interrupted me. ‘I am pleased you popped in as I have a few errands for you once you’ve finished your duties, if you don’t mind.’ He wasn’t really asking, more telling, but Mr Walker was always perfectly polite with me.

  ‘That’s what I was comin’ to tell ya Mr Walker. I’ve just finished.’

  ‘Perfect,’ he said, shuffling a stack of papers littering his desk. ‘Martha, the barmaid is unwell today so I am unable to leave. Could you possibly take this money down to Mrs Taylor at the corner shop, I told her I would pay her today. Also I need this telegram sending off, I will give you some money for that too. Finally a letter has arrived for Mrs Summers; would you run upstairs and hand it to her for me.’

  ‘Mrs Summers left a couple of minut
es ago, Sir, I saw her headed down the street.’

  Mr Walker looked confused by this, but did not question me.

  ‘If you like Sir I could try to catch her. She couldn’t have gotten very far, and I think I know where she was headed.’

  Mr Walker smiled at me and handed over the items. He didn’t speak again but waved his hand gesturing for me to leave his office. I dashed out of the inn at full speed and raced up the street in the direction I knew she had taken.

  By the time I had reached Henrietta Street I was exhausted and my running turned into a slow walk. My heart was pounding from my chest and my mouth dry. As I neared the end of the street I could hear voices. One was instantly recognisable as Mrs Summers’ but I could not make out the other.

  I pressed myself against the row of houses and peered around the corner to see who was there. My eyes quickly fixed upon two people standing beside the bench: Mrs Summers and a man who I did not know, but was not her husband. Mrs Summers was clearly distressed as she let out a small panicked scream. I hesitated, and suddenly the man’s hand came crashing down, hitting her hard across the face. She fell to the ground with a crash and immediately I retreated back behind the house out of sight. I tried to hear what was going on, but the man’s voice was low and I could not make out his words.

  I slowly began backing up the road, I did not want him to hear my footsteps but I knew I needed to get help fast, before it was too late.

  Chapter 26

  Detective Matthews

  After the events of Monday, I had spent a considerable amount of my Tuesday questioning people who knew the young girl who had been found in the ally. I had also returned to speak to the fishmonger who had found her body. Yet despite all these extra efforts I was still no further into finding anything.

  By lunchtime myself and Constable Taylor, who had been taking down notes, found ourselves wandering the streets. I could barely focus on Taylor’s voice as he relayed to me his scribbled handwriting. My mind was still racing round and round with the hurtful insults the parents of the murdered girl had thrown at me. I started to feel personally responsible for her murder. It has been over six weeks since the first girl was found dead and here I was walking the cobbled streets still none the wiser of who was responsible.

  ‘Detective Matthews!’ a small voice called out from behind me, stopping my thoughts dead and bringing me back to the present. It was a young boy running up the street towards me, waving with all his might to ensure he caught my attention.

  ‘Detective Matthews, wait!’ he shouted again, as he approached me breathless. I was certain I recognised him and it took me a couple of seconds to place him as the young lad who worked at the White Horse and Griffin.

  ‘Can I help you young man?’

  He tried to speak while catching his breath. ‘It’s Mrs Summers… the lady from London who’s stayin’ at the inn… Sir.’

  ‘What about her, boy?’

  ‘I think she is in trouble, I think she needs your help!’ he shouted with rage and fear in his voice.

  ‘Speak clearly boy. What exactly did you see?’

  ‘A man, talkin’ to her. He was angry and hit her.’ I had heard more than enough.

  ‘Lead the way, now.’

  He grabbed me by the arm and led me back the way he had come, turning me onto Church Street we sprinted along the road at full speed.

  ‘Can you describe what you saw?’ I asked the young boy, and at that point I suddenly remembered his name. ‘Tom, isn’t it?’ I queried. ‘Talk me through what you saw Tom?’ Constable Taylor sprinted to keep up, his notepad raised as he scribbled away frantically.

  ‘She was talking to a strange man…she seemed upset…he hit her.’ His words were only just understandable as he tried to talk and run at the same time, his breathing gradually thickening and becoming more prominent. He guided us along Henrietta Street in the direction of the East Pier. At the end of the street Tom ground to a sudden stop, and we were faced with nothing but a bench, and a view out towards the piers.

  ‘Well?’ I said, waiting for him to say something.

  ‘They were right here.’ He spoke with worry in his voice, his eyes searching down towards the deserted pier in the hope of seeing her. My own mind froze, if Tom was indeed telling the truth then where could they have gone, and worse what was he going to do to her.

  ‘Let us head back to the inn Tom. I need to speak to Mr Summers, and we need to find Mrs Summers as soon as possible. Is there anything else you can remember, what was said, or perhaps what this man looked like?’ I held the young boy by the shoulders and lowered my face so it was adjacent to his. Tom’s face looked lost as he tried to think hard.

  ‘He spoke so quiet. I heard Mrs Summers scream, and then he hit her. I remember seeing him in a top hat and coat, but nothing more I can recall.’ Tears began to form in Tom’s eyes, he was clearly upset that he had not been able to help further.

  ‘Listen to me Tom, I need you to go back to the inn and stay safe; myself and Constable Taylor will take things from here. However I do not want to cause panic within the town, so you need to promise me, Tom, that you will go straight back without telling anybody about this, alright?’ I could not believe I was asking a child to keep such a promise; his eyes looked as though they could cry at any moment as he nodded silently in response to my question.

  We briskly walked back along Henrietta Street, Tom did not speak the entire way, and as we reached the White Horse and Griffin he paused, clearly unsure what to do with himself.

  ‘I need to speak to Mr Summers, Tom; you are more than welcome to run along if you wish.’ I did not want him to feel he had to stay; he had already been through enough already.

  ‘I want to help find Mrs Summers,’ he said, his voice slightly more normal than before, though an air of nervousness was still apparent. ‘I will take a walk and let you know if I see anything.’ With that he left, walking back along the street in a brisk manner. I couldn’t help but smile at his determination to help, people much older would have been happy to be left out of something like this.

  I turned and entered the inn, immediately greeted by the landlord.

  ‘Good afternoon Detective, and what can I do for you?’ He barely ever smiled.

  ‘I was hoping to speak to Mr Summers; do you happen to know where he is?’ Mr Walker lifted a hand in gesture that I should wait before he turned back into his office, returning moments later with a piece of torn paper.

  ‘Mr Summers is in a meeting at this address, he gave me this as Tom will be picking him up later this evening.’ I looked at the address in my hand; I knew exactly where it was and flew out of the door clutching the paper tightly, thanking Mr Walker as I dashed out the door. Constable Taylor had stayed behind at the inn.

  Nearly ten minutes later I finally reached the address on the West side of town, and I was exhausted after running the entire way.

  I banged on the door repeatedly until it was finally opened by an elderly woman, her face startled at the sight of me gasping for air on the door step.

  ‘I am Detective Matthews. I am looking for Mr Albert Summers. Do you know if he is here?’ The woman did not speak but bowed her head in acknowledgment before turning back into the hallway, leaving the door slightly ajar. I stood waiting on the doorstep, anxious that they were to hurry. Finally Mr Summers appeared at the door.

  ‘Is everything alright here Detective?’ His voice filled with a mild anger as though unimpressed at my interruption of his meeting.

  ‘Mr Summers, I need you to come with me. It concerns your wife.’

  ‘Victoria?’ His eyes widened and his face fell at the sheer thought of there being something wrong.

  ‘What’s happened?’ he demanded.

  ‘Please Mr Summers, if you would come with me, I will explain everything I know on the way.’

  Chapter 27

  Victoria

  I woke to the smell of burning, but not the kind attached to a fire, more of an incense being burnt
to cause an aroma. My head was pounding and my eyes took a long time to adjust to the dim light of the single candle that lit the room I was in. Next to it was the burning stick that was scenting the room, the smoke of which danced around the candle flame in a blue smoke before rising higher and disappearing up into the darkness.

  I looked down at myself to find I was laid in what looked like a bed, yet it was so narrow and short I barely fit. I was covered in what felt like silk bed sheets, soft and smooth to the touch as though never been used. As I admired the sheets I realised that the attractive aroma filling the room was lavender. Floral and sweet with a strange relaxing feel to it. I still had on my long dress and shoes, despite almost being tucked in.

  I strained my eyes around the gloomy room, trying my hardest to make out anything else. A single chair was positioned next to the small round table upon which the candle sat. I scanned the room but could not see any further beyond the candle as the room continued into darkness; I looked for a door that would let me escape.

  I launched myself to get out of the bed, intending to pick up the candle in the aim to use it to guide me. Walking from the bed, I had overestimated how far away the candle was, and was starting to realise just how vast the room was. As I approached the table I was overcome with the smoky scents coming from the burning stick and began to cough violently. I went to grab the metal candle holder, but it was stuck hard to the table. I tried to force it but the holder did not move, and the table it sat upon also did not budge under my efforts. Why would anybody stick a candle to the table? And what’s worse, why would they stick the table to the floor?

  I began to scan the room once more, still hoping that a way out would become apparent. Nothing. How had I got here?