He stretched his arm for her to take it and they began walking east along Whitechapel Road in the general directions of Bow and Victoria Park. They walked and talked and turned along Cambridge Heath Road to head to the western end of Victoria Park. It was still quite a way to walk so they paused not far along the road at an omnibus stop. They continued effortlessly chatting as they waited but it was not long before the bus came along. They boarded with Robert eagerly paying the fare for the two of them and they sat themselves on the open top deck as the sun was out and the air was fresh and sweet, as fresh and sweet as it could be for the busy, clogged streets of the East End. In fact as they headed north and gradually further east the nature of the streets and the property that passed significantly improved, especially once they reached the wealthy environs of Hackney and Bow.
The omnibus turned right from Cambridge Heath Road and made its way along Victoria Park Road. ‘Vicky Park,’ as it was and still is known, stretches from the edge of Hackney east to the outskirts of Bow, nearing the borders with Stratford. A distance of just over a mile. As a result the buses made several stops along their way past the park stopping at the various points of activity or interest ranging from the boating lake to the tea rooms and bandstand or just by some of the quiet rolling areas of grassland or small copses of trees.
Robert and Mary alighted by the boating lake and then walked arm in arm through the ornate wrought iron gates forming just part of the Victorian railings surrounding the entire park. Being the weekend and a day blessed with fine weather the area around the lake and it’s various facilities was crowded with much of the East End’s populace more finely dressed on the whole enjoying a day out in stead of work, but Robert noticed the crowd was punctuated with some very wealthy types from outside the locality who were obviously enjoying the parks country atmosphere too. He noted the odd rogue around too who had made no attempt to alter their normal working appearance and eyed the people around them cautiously, looking possibly for victims or being wary of the police who also took time to stroll the grounds for their normal patrolling purposes. Robert found it sad that even in this haven people still had to be on their guard.
He noted that Mary’s appearance turned many a man’s head not only due to her exceptionally fashionable turned out appearance but also too because of her stunning natural beauty. What was she doing involved in such a deplorable trade in the East End? He was determined if some kind of relationship blossomed that he would take her away from this as soon as he could.
They strolled up to the queue for the boating lake chatting comfortably and enjoying a day out like the rest of the world around them and in a short while they were at the head of the line at the ticket desk with Robert handing over the money for their session on the lake. The ticket entitled them to a row boat for two finished in a somewhat weathered royal blue colour which quite coincidentally off set the shades of blue in Mary’s outfit and Robert’s suit bizarrely well.
They climbed aboard with the tatty little rowing boat listing characteristically from side to side as they did so, Robert got aboard first and confidently stood offering Mary his hand to help her on. She took it with her parasol swinging off of her forearm as her free hand pulled up her skirt slightly to avoid it snagging on the rough sides of the boat or skimming across the water’s surface. They both sat down facing each other with Mary more to the aft of the boat looking forwards and Robert facing backwards more towards the stern comfortably next to the oars.
He confidently took an oar in each hand and the boat keeper cast off their rope securing them to the shore it landing with a thump in the area behind Mary in the boat. With a bias with one oar Robert got them facing to the centre of the lake and he then rowed with languid strokes to not wear himself out to get as far away from any of the banks as possible. He pulled the oars in securing them along the boat’s sides and then moved to sit next to Mary.
“So, Miss Kelly, how are you enjoying your day?”
“Very relaxing thank you, Constable Ford.”
“Who’d have thought that the East End could look so tranquil and have somewhere that allows you to feel completely at ease and away from it all.”
“Reminds me of Ireland, calm inland waters, lush grasslands and swaying trees in colourful blossom. I shall go back there one day, settle and never leave.”
“Sounds wonderful, is that alone or do you see a man in your life?” Mary considered her reply carefully. She was very fond of Robert, feeling totally at ease with his company. He would be the kind she pictured this settled life with but was concerned not to scare him off, avoiding a sense of coming on too strongly. She could at least be assured that he was fairly unmoved by her profession or else she doubted he would be here now. “Of course with someone, don’t want to be some old maid in Limerick, all talked about behind me back.”
“What about Joe?”
“Oh, he’s really more of a house-mate than anything else, can’t see him being me man to be in Ireland. Anyway, what about you, Robert, what do you want from your future?”
“Well if I’m to marry whilst in the force, I need to move my wife out to the leafy suburbs to live so I can still get to work, but we can raise some kids in a decent environment.”
“All on a constable’s wage then, eh?”
“Well, if can make sergeant then we could do it at a struggle, but if I make inspector then it’s a real ambition.”
“I do like a man who plans a future, there’s more to you than a pretty face and a nice arse, Robert Ford,” she giggled in a suggestive way. All Robert could do was blush and start to laugh too.
“It would be un-gentlemanly to say what I like about you, Mary Kelly.” They continued giggling.
They stared into each others eyes as their laughter gradually subsided. After what seemed like an eternity of staring into the emerald pools which were Mary’s beautiful eyes Robert moved towards her and gave her gentle kiss on the lips. Mary responded simultaneously with equal pressure against him, he must know that she was developing strong feelings for him. He pulled back following that initial contact to look into her eyes again to gauge her response. She was looking longingly at him so he immediately took her in a passionate embrace in his arms and they began kissing with real intention as lovers do, tongues clashing and wrapping against each other heatedly, each signalling their desire to the other as a result.
After several minutes of this passionate activity Mary pulled away her mouth from his remaining in his arms and whispered “Robert, take me to your lodgings. Now.”
***
That day during the morning the inquest into Mary Nichols murder was opened presided over by the colourful forty-four year old coroner Wynne Baxter. Abberline and Godley were in attendance at the Whitechapel Working Lads Club and at their request the matter was reconvened for Monday, but ultimately it would not be until later in the month that the police had any real evidence to present.
“Certainly, Inspector Abberline, I shall adjourn matters for it does seem only prudent that we set the ball rolling today and hopefully wrap things up by the end of the month,” was Baxter’s gambit.
“Thank you, sir, and I hope that we won’t end up with several running concurrent.”
“What do you mean, Inspector?”
“Well, sir, this is the second prostitute in four weeks, I’m hoping that there’s not a pattern as they’ve been victims of bloody knife attacks.”
“Well, I’m sure it’s just coincidence, Inspector.”
“So do I, sir,” said Abberline closing the conversation but feeling that with his drafting into the case maybe things were set to escalate. He hoped it was an unfounded concern.
***
About 5.p.m Ralph was walking along Whitechapel High Street with Bruiser on a homemade makeshift rope lead enjoying the rest of the day off from selling papers. He was dressed in his usual scruffy clothes but had no need of his heavy coat on the bright and pleasant day so it lay on the floor of his lodgings at Millers Court along w
ith his prized blankets and his probably comatose mother. They trotted along quite happily watching the world go by as they passed the many stalls making up the Saturday market. They were all winding down and clearing up due to the time but some still had produce and certainly all were flush with their day’s takings. Ralph saw coming towards him a furtive figure dressed in what he thought was a vicar’s suit, the shape and movement of this person closely resembled that of the man he’d seen dart away on sight of the police a few days previously in Red Lion Court.
Michael Ostrog saw the boy and took little notice of him as he would have little or no ready cash on him. He cast his eyes around the stall holders to try to spy which one might have the most profit for him. He saw a quite short stocky ruddy faced fifty year old man clearing up his poultry stall. These stall holders usually made good money from brisk business throughout the day and if Ostrog caught him unaware he could use a weapon from the stall if necessary, although the keeper didn’t look as if he could give him much resistance. Ostrog’s only short coming in his plan was that he had not counted on the fact that the boy had casually walked on but had then stopped and was watching him from the shelter of a doorway, curious as to what this shady looking character was up to. Ralph knew he would at least get some information for Constable Ford on this new face to the area.
As were most of the stall holders the poultry man was going about his own business of clearing up with only a little stock left on his display when Ostrog approached the stall. Ostrog had certainly been careful to observe that there were no police around as he passed through a gap and got behind the stall raising his fist in anticipation of his victim turning round. He saw that the stall holder wore a waist pouch which would be holding the day’s takings and fastened around his back with only a tied bow to secure it. He grabbed one of the free ends of the bow and pulled it firmly making it untie instantly and it fell to the ground with a clatter from the coins within it. The stall holder spun around clutching the void where once his pouch had hung. Ostrog let fly instantly with a devastating punch with his raised right fist connecting with familiar accuracy onto the nose of the stunned stall holder shattering bone and spraying blood across his face and down the front of his off white cotton apron. He reeled backwards against his butchers block as Ostrog made a darting move to grab the pouch of money lying between them on the cobbled market floor.
Dropping his sight from his victim to look at the pouch, a momentary lapse in Ostrog’s usually predatory efficiency, he was oblivious to his victim’s reaction of grabbing a ten inch steak boning knife from the block. As Ostrog looked back towards his quarry he saw the knife heading towards the top of his head accompanied by the cry of “You fucking foreign bastard, I’ll teach you!” Ostrog threw himself as much from harms way as he could, but his evasive action was not enough. The knife buried itself deep into the muscle of his left shoulder, so much so that as he continued his avoidance move the stall holder was forced to let go of its handle. Ostrog screamed out in agony “Niet! Damned whore’s son, may the devil curse you!” Still having hold of his prize but now laying on the floor he swung his legs around violently in a sweeping action catching the stall holder’s shins and pitching him forward onto the floor. He landed heavily on his face doing further damage to his jaw and leaving him clutching his face and screaming in pain.
Unable to retaliate any further, Ostrog scrambled to his feet and with head down and moving fast he surged his way through the gathering crowd with the money in his right hand and his left arm hanging limp with the knife embedded in his scrawny shoulder muscle. He ran off along the High Street towards the junction with New Road with Ralph and Bruiser following in pursuit to keep tabs on his escape. Behind him Ralph could hear the varying cries from the gathered and now mobilising crowd in the market ranging from ‘Find the Old Bill!’ to ‘Lets lynch the bastard ourselves, fucking foreigner!’
Ralph watched Ostrog make his way south in New Road and then heard the sound of police whistles coming from the opposite direction of the High Street, he stopped to wave the constables the right way. They approached Ralph and Bruiser now barking with excitement. One of them breathlessly spoke to him.
“What’s going on, boy?”
“That bloke going off down there, he’s just robbed the poultry man. There’s a bloody knife sticking out of his arm too.” Ostrog looked round just at the point when Ralph was relaying the information to the police and pointing in his direction.
Like a wounded animal he couldn’t stop and risk succumbing to his pursuers and was forced to carrying on running towards Commercial Road knowing in his mind that he would silence that newspaper boy and his geriatric dog. The whistles carried on blowing from behind him as he neared the junction ahead and he was then stunned by the sight of two more police rounding it and now closing him down from the opposite direction. He stopped dead in his tracks with only a second or two to spare to consider his options. He had only one good arm to fight with and he was now being almost surrounded by four policemen but with one line of escape along Nelson Street. He was forced to drop the money so he could defend himself. Then he braced himself with his legs locked firmly out as he stood upright and clutched the handle of the steak knife with his right hand.
The four approaching policemen stopped watching stunned all about fifteen feet from him as they observed the unfolding terrifying display of pain control. Ostrog with a look of defiance had veins standing out prominently in his neck and in the sides of his forehead as he absorbed the pain. He pulled the knife inch by inch out of his shoulder until the whole six inches by which it had been buried were free and now being held up in front of him dripping with blood. He surveyed the aghast faces of his potential captors with the endorphins generated within him from the chase dulling all sensations of pain. He knew that as with the poultry man he would have to make a pre-emptive strike to gain the upper hand and give himself a chance of taking revenge on that boy.
He lunged at the nearest constable with a hard stabbing movement managing to land the knife deep into his right thigh, the officer then dropping instantly to the floor screaming in pain. He made a slashing movement at the next nearest one who stood back to avoid a contact with the third and the fourth now with their truncheons drawn. Having distracted them with his attack he then ran as fast as he could into Nelson Street with two of them still chasing whilst the third tended to his fallen comrade.
The adrenaline carried him swiftly and gave him a good start on the constables. He ducked into the nearest doorway which led him into the maze of one of the tenement blocks. They followed only seconds later but he had already disappeared, melting into the East End slum with the rest of the lost souls scattered around the corridors and stairwells of what was ironically ‘Russia House’. Ostrog found himself a bolt-hole beneath some stairs behind piles of festering rubbish which he was prepared to tolerate for long enough to guarantee that his searchers had given up. As he heard footsteps passing above him on the stairwells with the house now swarming with the accursed police, Ostrog’s adrenaline levels began to drop and the throbbing pain of his shoulder began to thump louder and more intensely. He would have to go and seek medical attention when the area was safe again. For now he had to suffer in silence.
Back in the High Street Ralph observed intently the constables taking details from the poultry man as Bruiser sat patiently against his leg; the rest of the gathered crowd began to disperse and go about their usual business. As was common place, few had come forward to the officers to give witness accounts so the young boy waited patiently to give his account of events. Whilst he waited he listened to two of the constables who had been the first on scene chatting about the afternoon’s excitement.
“Well, that bloody madman has got to be Michael Ostrog from what I’ve seen of him and what the punters have described him like,” said a thin, drawn looking Commercial Street constable.
“Look what he did to Wilf’s leg, cut to bloody ribbons it was, take him weeks to walk again,” repl
ied his chubbier colleague.
“Mind you, it being a poultry knife it’s used to cutting through more meat that what’s in his leg!” They both laughed darkly together, a way of surviving the stress of it all for them.
Eventually the furiously scribbling constable who had been taking details from the poultry man turned to Ralph and bent down to speak to him eye to eye, but immediately turned his initial attention to Bruiser.
“Well, my fine furry friend, what did you see then, eh? With them sharp sheep dog eyes of yours?”
“’E saw lots, but ‘e can’t tell you nothing, ‘e’s smart but he can’t talk, mister.” Bruiser gave the constable his paw and looked around him in a rather bored fashion.
“No, of course not, son, but what did you see, you work around here don’tcha.”
“Yeah, and you’re PC Jonas Mizen, I know you, you’ve nicked my mum when she’s pissed.”
“Sorry, lad, its only work you know. Anyway, how do you know my name?”
“’Cos I’ve seen you in court to give your evidence, ain’t I.”
“All right enough of that, what did you see then?”
Ralph gave a full account of the violent events in the market with an intricate description of Ostrog. Jonas Mizen was forced to get a second note book from one of the other constables as a result of the sheer volume of the details he had taken from the boy regarding the violent robbery. Once finished they each went their separate ways with Ralph apprehensively considering a return to Millers Court and his drunken, whoring mother.
***
Robert’s lodgings were empty but for the ever present Bosun. Now awake he greeted the familiar inhabitant and the lovely Mary warmly and after a few minutes of fussing from the pair of them he retreated to his basket and grubby blankets.
“Which way is your parlour then, Robert?” Mary said mischievously.
“The only way is up,” he said pointing to the stairs “And keep going to the last room at the top, I have the attic lodgings, with a view,” he said mocking society gentlemen. Mary giggled in a devilish fashion sending a wave of excitement through young Ford.
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