Avon Street

by Paul Emanuelli

  ‘I don’t know,’ Richard said, but his expression made his anxiety all too clear. ‘Who shot him?’

  ‘I didn’t see who did it,’ John replied. He looked at Richard and saw the suspicion in his eyes. ‘Why would I have brought him to you if I had shot him?’

  ‘A man on horseback fired from the road outside the Queen Square gardens, some distance away from him,’ Belle interrupted. ‘He called out his name and then shot him with a pistol.’

  ‘Let us hope then that the lead ball is not too deep,’ Richard said. ‘His coat and jacket were thick and should have protected him a little, and the distance of the shot is in his favour.’

  John turned to Belle. ‘It seems somewhat of a coincidence that you were nearby at the time?’

  She bristled, her annoyance clear. ‘Why should I not be there, my home is only a short distance away.’

  John thought she seemed uneasy and wondered if she was telling the truth. ‘Did you recognise the one who shot him?’ he asked.

  ‘He had a scarf pulled up across his mouth and I couldn’t see who it was.’

  ‘Now is not the time for investigation,’ Richard interrupted, obviously uneasy. ‘I need your help Mr … ?’

  ‘My name is John.’

  ‘Hold him down for me, John. Will you hold the tray of instruments for me, Miss Bennett? Take a clean towel from the pile and mop the blood from the wound whenever it begins to build. John, you keep hold of him.’

  John watched, mesmerised, as Richard took a long-bladed scalpel and opened the wound a fraction. At first James fought to get free and then he passed out. Richard began probing inside the wound with a finger. John could tell from his face when he had finally located the lead ball. Once found, it took Richard only seconds to extract it with a pair of tweezers, but then the blood began flowing freer. James came to for a moment and moaned incoherently for a few seconds, the pain contorting his face, before he passed out again.

  John had seen plenty of blood at sea. There were times when he had even been called on to assist the ship’s surgeon. Richard’s voice dragged him back from his memories. ‘John, while he is unconscious turn up the gas mantles and light that lamp and bring it over here. I need more light. You need to hold the lamp with its beam pointing into the wound, but be careful, it is very hot.’ John held the lamp, staring into the bloody mess of the wound.

  ‘The main blood vessels seem to be intact and the blood loss is slowing,’ Richard said. ‘I think his clavicle, his shoulder bone, is fractured but it has prevented a deeper wound and the open tissue appears relatively clean.’ He looked up, obviously annoyed. ‘Hold the lamp nearer, John. I cannot see what I am doing. And hold it steady.’

  John tried to steady the lamp, transfixed, as he watched Richard picking out the fragments of clothing with long surgical tweezers from the gash that his knife had left, before cleaning inside the wound.

  ‘Thread that needle with silk, Miss Bennett, while I clean the surface of my cut,’ Richard said. ‘Then hold the two edges of the wound together.’

  He sewed the skin closed with the curved needle that looked like a fishing hook and then took hold of James’ wrist. ‘His heart is still racing; we should let him rest now. I’ll check there is no one in the kitchen. If it is safe I will fetch you and you can wash yourselves while I watch James.’

  John looked up as Richard opened the surgery door. Outside he saw one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. ‘Charlotte!’ he heard Richard exclaim, as he tried to close the door behind him. ‘You should not go in.’ The woman pushed past him and entered the surgery before slamming the door closed behind her.

  ‘What has happened to James and who is that woman?’ she asked. ‘Why is a woman like that in my house?’

  John looked at Belle. If the insult had hurt her, she did not let it show in her expression.

  ‘She is an acquaintance of James,’ Richard replied. ‘She helped me to treat his wound. James is badly injured.’

  ‘I ask again, what happened to him? Was it this woman?’

  ‘He has been shot, but not as far as I know by Miss Bennett.’

  ‘Why must he bring his lowlife into our home?’ Charlotte said. ‘He mixes in God knows what sort of circles and now he has brought these people into our lives.’ She broke off, sobbing, and wiped her eyes with a delicate white lace handkerchief. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, talking to her husband as though they were alone in the room. ‘I know James is your friend and I do care what happens to him, but I don’t care for the life he leads and I worry that he will draw you in. What if your daughter had seen this? If he has put her in danger I will not forgive him. That woman is part of a world she should know nothing about.’

  John watched Belle again and still she showed no emotion, as though she were oblivious to Charlotte’s insults.

  ‘Miss Bennett is very distressed and her frock is covered with blood, would you have me send her away?’ Richard asked.

  ‘What if one of your clients should see her here, with her face made up, and those clothes?’ Charlotte said. ‘What sort of doctor would they think you were? She is dressed for the evening in the middle of the day!’

  ‘I’m sorry; I have been a little too pre-occupied with keeping James alive to pay much attention to Miss Bennett’s appearance,’ Richard said.

  His answer seemed only to inflame Charlotte’s anger more. ‘I doubt you saw much beyond her neckline.’

  ‘That is enough,’ Belle said. ‘I understand I am not your invited guest, but I will not be spoken of in this way. I do not need to apologise to you for how I choose to dress, or deport myself, and nor will I.’

  ‘I will not continue this conversation while James’ life is in danger, Charlotte,’ Richard said. ‘And you have been unfair to Miss Bennett.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Charlotte sobbed. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her lace handkerchief. ‘You must of course tend to James, but it is disturbing to see my home transformed to a battlefield-hospital.’ She gestured to Belle. ‘Come with me, Miss Bennett.’

  John watched as Charlotte stepped into the hallway. He noticed her looking into the mirror for a moment, dabbing away the last of her tears before tidying her perfectly coiffured blonde hair. Belle joined her and the two women stood still for long staring seconds, as though each was rehearsing what to say, each wondering who should speak first. Then Charlotte smiled, as if suddenly conscious that everyone was watching her. She reached out as though to take Belle’s hand and shuddered. ‘You have blood on your hands!’ Turning away, she beckoned for Belle to follow. ‘Come with me, my dear, and we’ll put your dress to soak and you shall choose one of mine to wear home. You can wash as well, and tidy your hair.’

  ‘But I should stay,’ Belle said.

  ‘You will be more help to James when you are changed and refreshed. Richard will call us if his condition changes. Come to my room and pick a dress. You can return it at your convenience and I will have it cleaned.’ Charlotte smiled seemingly at no one in particular and closed the surgery door behind her.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  John stood by the window and pulled the curtains slightly back, to look out on the street. The road was growing dark and the street-lights had not yet been lit, but he was still able to see the two men under the tree opposite James’ house. He closed the curtain with a jerk of his right hand. ‘I feared as much,’ he said. ‘They’ve tracked us down.’

  James mumbled something incoherently as if he had half-heard what was being said, but it was obvious that he was still unconscious. Richard put his hand to James’ forehead. ‘Are they watching this house?’

  ‘No,’ John said. ‘I don’t think so. There’s no reason as yet for them to connect us with you, but they might start putting two and two together unless I can persuade them otherwise. Is there a way of getting into his house without them seeing me?’

  ‘Go into the garden at the back,’ Richard said. ‘There are several walls between the two houses, but it is dark
enough for you not to be noticed if you stay to the bottoms of the gardens. I’ll get James’ back door key from Mrs Hawker upstairs, and let her know what has happened.’

  When Richard returned John took the key from him and Richard led him into the back garden. The walls were easy climbing and John got to the back door of James’ house with little difficulty, and, as far as he could tell, unseen. He went downstairs and lit the gas mantle in the kitchen on a low flame; checked the door was securely locked and pulled across the heavy bolt. Then he went to the drawing room, pulling the curtains closed in the darkness, but making sure he left a sufficient gap for any light to show through before he lit two candles.

  In James’ room, as he was drawing the curtains, one of the men outside looked up and pointed. John drew back behind the wall. When he looked again, he could see only one man outside. He lit the longest candles he could find and began searching the room. There was a holdall in the cupboard and he packed it with as many clothes as he could fit in, grabbing from the linen press the first things that came to hand until the bag was bulging. He recovered his own canvas bag from the hallway, which seemed heavier than he recalled it being. Then he locked the garden door behind him.

  The journey back to the doctor’s house took much longer as he had to manoeuvre the baggage without making a noise and alerting the owners of the gardens he was passing through. Staying as far as possible to the bottoms of the gardens, he moved stealthily, but methodically, and breathed a sigh of relief as he entered through the back door of Richard’s house. There was no apparent sign of his trespass having raised the alarm in any of the households he had crossed.

  Richard greeted him with a weak smile when he returned. ‘What have you done?’

  John threw the bags down in the hall. ‘Suffice it to say that our watchers will believe that James is in his own house, at least for a while … How is he?’

  ‘He is recovering. His fever has gone, his breathing is strengthening, there is very little bleeding from the wound and the colour is returning to his face.’

  ‘That’s good news.’ John said. ‘I heard your wife earlier, saying she did not want your daughter put at risk and she is right to be concerned. There’s no immediate danger now they believe him to be at home, and either dead or dying. There’s no reason for them to be searching elsewhere, but we only have a little time to consider our next move.’

  ‘What will you do?’

  ‘We can’t stay here, it is too dangerous,’ John said, all too aware of the truth of his words.

  ‘Where will you go?’

  ‘That I don’t know … Do you have any ideas? You know the city better than me.’

  ‘Give me time to think,’ Richard answered.

  Chapter 17

  Frank Harcourt knocked on the front door of the house in Hucklebridge’s Court and found himself admitted by a scowling Jeb. He could see the hatred in the man’s normally lifeless eyes. Frank knew Jeb despised him for his manners and intelligence, resented his closeness to Caine. He tried to retain a smile, but found Jeb’s expression eating away at his confidence and as he felt his own smile receding he watched the sneer grow stronger on Jeb’s face. He knew he had made a devoted enemy and not one to be taken lightly.

  Frank said nothing as he made his way down to the kitchen, knowing that he would need to watch his back in future. Perhaps it was time, he thought, to try and make life a little less secure for Jeb.

  He could sense the jocularity in the room below, immediately he entered. Harry Wood walked over to him and shook his hand. Frank smiled, ‘I told Daunton to wait outside the County Club. Did you get a good shot at him?’

  ‘He didn’t budge from the centre of the gardens,’ Harry replied. ‘But I guessed he wasn’t going to move and I had a clear shot, so I dropped him where he stood. Is he dead?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Frank replied. ‘I delivered him as we agreed, but I had no intention of getting caught up in his murder.’ Harry’s smile disappeared. He was looking at him as if to say – you haven’t the guts to do the job properly.

  ‘You should have stayed, that’s what we agreed,’ Caine said. ‘It’s just like last time. You only did half the job.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ Frank asked. ‘I played my part last time.’

  ‘You were supposed to deliver Daunton incapable and alone,’ Caine spat, ‘and you told us nothing about him carrying a sword stick.’

  ‘He was drugged,’ Frank said, ‘I doctored his drink half-way through the game and I knew nothing of the swordstick, or the other man.’

  ‘Well what’s done is done,’ Caine replied. ‘We got him this time and we’ll soon know where he is, if he’s still alive. I’ve sent two men to watch his house and another two around the hospitals.’

  ‘He has a friend,’ Frank said. ‘A doctor called Wetherby who lives down the road in number ten. I should have told you. He may have been taken there.’

  ‘Fool!’ Caine snapped. ‘We should have been watching his place.’

  ‘Did anyone recognise you, Harry?’ Frank asked, hoping to deflect them.

  ‘Not as far as I know,’ he replied, smiling again. ‘I had a gentleman’s coat and I was sat on a gentleman’s horse. I pulled up my scarf before I shot and I was away before anyone took notice of me. Then I set the horse free by Crescent fields and changed into the clothes I stashed away this morning. As far as the world knows, Daunton was shot by a gentleman, and there are plenty of gentlemen that Daunton owes money to, from what you said. There’s nothing to bring the peelers to this house.’

  ‘Let’s hope he’s dead,’ Caine said. ‘And perhaps it’ll stop the priest from meddling when he realises we’ll make others suffer for his interference.’

  ‘I’ve been true to my word, Nat,’ Frank said. ‘I’ve delivered him to you twice now.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Caine said. ‘But if he’d taken his beating like a man the first time we wouldn’t have been put to this. He killed Tommy, and no one kills one of my lads without paying for it. Tommy was a good lad.’

  Frank smiled. This was how it should be. Caine was in his debt again. Things had worked out for the best, he thought. Daunton had been useful in the beginning. He’d introduced him to the right people, given him a place in society. His naivety had been helpful then, but he had become tedious, and besides, without his money he was becoming a liability. Everyone knew he was in debt and no one wants to know a debtor.

  ‘The way’s clear now then, Nat,’ Frank said, ‘once we’ve stifled the priest we can get on with business.’

  ‘He can’t start his lending now,’ Caine said. ‘He’s no money and he’ll soon understand that it was him that caused Daunton’s death. We’ll hear nothing more from him.’

  ‘Now there are no distractions,’ Frank said, ‘perhaps it’s time for one or two selective burglaries. I’ve some houses in mind that would pay well.’

  ‘We’ll be ready whenever you tip us the nod,’ Caine replied.

  Frank took Caine to one side as the rest of the men devoted themselves to more serious drinking. ‘I thought you might have dispensed with Jeb by now. He’s a dangerous man, and not to be trusted.’

  ‘It suits me to have him about for now,’ Caine said. ‘I want him earning his way back into my favour and I don’t want the path too clear for Harry, especially now he’s got the taste of blood. Jeb worries people and that suits me fine, as long as I know that I worry him.’

  ‘You know I’m with you, Nat.’ Frank smiled. ‘They both know I’d never help anyone but you.’

  ‘Don’t get any ideas,’ Caine said. ‘I run this gang. I value your help and I pay you well for it, but don’t think you’re more important than you are. The lads would never follow you, if you was to try and take over. If I left it to Jeb you’d already be dead meat. He reckons you know too much. If you ever cross me … ’ Caine paused as the door flew open. ‘What news, Lem?’ he asked.

  ‘It started to get dark and we saw candles being lit in Dau
nton’s house and the curtains being drawn,’ Lem said. ‘He’s in there all right, but whether he’s dead or not, I don’t know.’

  ‘Did anyone else go in?’ Frank asked.

  ‘Not as I saw,’ the man replied.

  ‘Well get back up there,’ Caine said, ‘and watch for anyone going in or leaving. And keep an eye on the doctor’s down the road … ’

  ‘He’s called Wetherby,’ Frank interrupted, ‘Doctor Richard Wetherby.’

  Lem nodded in reply and reached for the bottle on the table. ‘Put it down,’ Caine said, ‘and do as you’re told when I tell you.’ He laughed as Lem slammed the bottle back on the table and ran from the room.

  ‘While we’re about it, Nat,’ Frank said, ‘there’s someone else who’s begun meddling in my affairs and would benefit from a small lesson in doing what they are told.’

  ‘Who’s that?’ Caine asked.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  James was still lying on the table in the surgery when he came to. He looked around the room. Richard and John were talking, but approached as soon as they saw him stir. Richard tried to restrain him at first but he would not be restrained. He could not rest now.

  They helped him down from the table and supported him as he made his way to the couch under the window. He knew they were speaking to him, but he could get no sense at first from their words, as though they were talking in a foreign language. His mind would not focus as he struggled to piece together where he was and how he had got there. Richard held out a spoon of something, he was saying it was for the pain.

  ‘This will help,’ he said, ‘but it will make you drowsy.’

  James swallowed it. ‘This feels unreal.’ His awareness was slowly increasing as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with his left hand. ‘I keep telling myself to wake up. No one’s ever wished me dead afore.’ The pain was intense. It picked at his consciousness, heightening his awareness.

  ‘Rest now,’ Richard said, ‘you are still not recovered.’