She had felt from the moment they had opened the shop door that this was the right place. Any doubts she had regarding their venture had died with the first step across the threshold. She wrote in the dust of the shop counter ‘We will succeed’, as though the words were a magic spell she was casting on the fabric of the building. When she turned again, Jenny was standing by the shop window, her smile filling her whole being.
‘It’s all so perfect,’ she said, ‘we need do nothing with the rooms or the decorations, but we will need furniture and curtains and so many other things. Are you sure you want to proceed?’
‘No,’ Belle replied, frowning. She wiped the words from the counter and watched the dismay on Jenny’s face for a few seconds, but that was all she could bear. Then she laughed. ‘Of course I’m sure. This will be our new home and the first of our shops. Are you certain it is large enough?’
‘I’m certain,’ Jenny replied. ‘There is space for a window display and a seating area.’ She pointed to the rear of the shop. ‘Where the stock rooms are now, we shall have two fitting rooms.’ Then she whirled around like a ballerina. ‘On that wall we will have shelves with materials and drawers full of decorative finishes.’
‘And the location,’ Belle asked. ‘Is Green Street suitable?’
‘It’s perfect,’ Jenny replied. ‘It’s close enough to Milsom Street to attract the customers we need, but not so expensive.’
‘We will have to budget carefully,’ Belle said. ‘We have enough for six months’ rent and a few alterations and the materials you will need. With what is left and what I will be able to send from London we should be able to pay wages for the staff for the first few months, but the shop will need to start bringing in income quickly.’
‘Have no fear,’ Jenny said. ‘When they see the quality of our clothes and our fine gowns, the customers will come.’
‘Have you spoken to the women that you intend to employ?’ Belle asked.
‘Yes,’ Jenny smiled, ‘the girls are all eager to begin, but you will need to help me selecting staff for the shop.’
‘We will find a manageress and she will select her staff. You need to sketch out the alterations you will require and we will select a carpenter as soon as the lease is signed.’
‘I can’t believe that this is real,’ Jenny said. ‘It still seems like a dream.’
‘It won’t be easy,’ Belle replied, ‘but it is real. I’m sure we shall encounter set-backs, but for the time being everything is good.’ She hesitated. ‘Before I leave I shall speak to James and Dr Wetherby and ensure that they are available to advise you on business matters if you need help.’
‘Do you have to leave Bath?’ Jenny asked.
‘I must,’ Belle replied. She was certain now. She had heard nothing from James in weeks and it was for the best that she sought out a new life.
‘If you have decided then you must go,’ Jenny said. ‘Molly and I will miss you, but you must go.’
‘As you must pursue your dream,’ Belle said, throwing her arms around her.
❖ ❖ ❖
James found John Doyle sitting alone in front of the fire in the dining room that afternoon. John did not look up when he entered the room, but sat poking the coals listlessly, watching the sparks taking to the air and burning out in flight. James paced around the room for a while, neither of the men speaking or even particularly acknowledging each other’s presence.
‘I have had some news,’ James said, sitting opposite John and trying to engage his attention.
‘What news?’ John asked.
‘Jeb is dead,’ James said.
‘Was it the Irish lads that killed him?’ John asked.
‘Sean thinks not,’ James said. ‘He called an hour ago. Jeb’s body was found in the river this morning. Billy’s watch, the one you gave him, was tied around his wrist.’
John plunged the poker into the fire, his face full of anger and hatred. ‘I wasn’t even sure it was Caine’s men who had killed Billy. I feel guilty for it now, but I thought he might have just talked his way into a fight. I should’ve guessed it was Jeb,’ John said, thrusting the poker over and over into the fire. ‘He was evil and deserved to die, whoever did it.’
‘I’d put my money on Caine,’ James said. ‘He followed you that night when you’d been talking with Jeb. Caine must have seen you together. God knows if he’s worked out who you are.’
‘What do we do?’ John asked.
‘We have to proceed on the basis that Caine suspects nothing,’ James said. ‘Sean’s having the letter delivered for me to the chief constable, with all the information you gleaned on the intended robbery. Diarmuid and Tom will come and stay here for the next few nights, and Brendan and Patrick will stay with Sean at all times.’
‘Do you think Sean’s in danger?’ John asked.
‘I think we all are,’ James replied. ‘The sooner this is over, the better. I feel more wary of Caine now than I did at the beginning.’
‘Because you now know what he’s capable of,’ John said. ‘I’ve never doubted it and neither has Charlie.’
‘Sean gave me a list of the Irish lads who volunteered to follow us against Caine after Billy’s funeral. There are almost forty names on it.’
‘We could wipe the Cockroad gang from the face of the earth with that number,’ John grimaced, ‘that’s if we need to.’
‘For the first time I believe it’s possible,’ James said. ‘But we must not act hastily. We might defeat Caine in an open battle, but how many would die? I want no more widows on my conscience.’
‘I just meant that for the first time we could more than match Caine in strength,’ John said.
‘I know, John, and we will,’ James said. ‘If the constabulary don’t catch Caine in the robbery, we’ll finish him at Lansdown Fair, but I have promised Sean that no one else will be hurt and I intend to keep my word. I have been through the plan with him and he knows exactly what to do and when, but I would be happier if you were by his side.’
‘I’m sorry,’ John smiled. ‘It’s just the thought of Jeb killing Billy. I won’t do anything hasty, but before I can help Sean I’ll need to know what you have planned.’
‘It may not be needed if the peelers take him, but we will be ready if they do not. First I need to write to Belle and Richard,’ James said, halting momentarily to gather his thoughts. ‘I’ll give you letters to take to them. Wait for their response and when you return we will sit with Charlie and go through the whole plan, until we are certain it is as near flawless as possible. In the meantime let’s pray that the constabulary catch Caine without the need for any confrontation.’
Chapter 37
Nat Caine had been anxious all day and Harcourt’s arrival in the early evening had done little to reassure him. Harcourt was too sure of himself, Caine thought. Normally his certainty seemed to breed confidence, but this time it made him nervous.
Caine watched him as Harcourt laid out the plans of Etheridge’s house on the kitchen table. ‘I’ll get the two men we’re taking with us tonight,’ Caine said, walking to the stairwell and bellowing out their names. He returned to the table and sat facing Harcourt, resenting the smug smile fixed on his face.
‘Why so quiet?’ Harcourt asked.
‘I’ve got a bad gut, and I still think it’s too soon after the last one,’ Caine said. ‘The peelers are like wasps about the place, as though we’d just stoned their nest.’
‘They won’t expect us to do anything then,’ Harcourt replied. He paused, raising a quizzical eyebrow. ‘I understand Jeb’s no longer with us? Took his own life I hear.’ He laughed and looked towards Caine as though he expected him to share the joke. ‘I never took him for a man with an over-active conscience.’
‘It ain’t funny,’ Caine said, ‘Jeb had been with me for years afore I met you and he never used to be trouble. I’m only glad I told him nothing about tonight, he’d developed too loose a tongue.’
‘Well, may the devil find rest fo
r his tongue and his soul,’ Harcourt said, laughing again, ‘because God won’t have much time for him.’
‘Shut yer mouth and get on with it,’ Caine said, as the two other men walked into the room. They gathered around the table and began examining the plans Harcourt had drawn of the ground floor of the house in question.
‘You’ll be pleased with this one,’ Harcourt said. ‘Etheridge is a bit of a miser, though he’d never admit it. He has no manservant, only two maids and a cook, and he’s a weedy character, and not in the best of health.’
‘What about the safe?’
‘The safe is in his study and that’s where his miserliness suits us well. It’s old, and more like a tin box than a safe. If you can’t pick its lock, we can turn it and cut through the back. Failing that we get him out of his bed and make him open it. He’ll not put up much of a fight.’
‘I still don’t like it. How do you know so much about the place?’
Mr Etheridge is not as righteous a man as he would have the world believe. I befriended him, and did a favour for him a while back; or rather you did, on my behalf – a competitor of his who you persuaded to shut up shop. Etheridge must not see me if we have to wake him.’
Caine insisted that they went through their preparations time and time again; planning the entry, escape routes, what was to be taken, the layout of the rooms and who was to do what. Then it was just a matter of waiting.
❖ ❖ ❖
Belle read the letter from James a third time as Jenny hovered around her, giggling. ‘Is it a love letter?’ Jenny asked when she could no longer restrain her curiosity.
‘Would that it was,’ Belle replied, ‘but no, James has simply asked if I will do him a further favour regarding Caine.’
‘Is it dangerous?’ Jenny asked, the concern clear in her voice. ‘Please say it isn’t. Not now; not when everything is going so well for us.’
Belle folded the letter as though she were finished with its contents. ‘No it’s not dangerous,’ she lied. ‘It was an idea … my idea. I thought he’d dismissed it, but obviously not.’
‘What do you have to do?’ Jenny asked.
‘He simply needs my help with a little charade. Don’t worry yourself.’
Jenny went back to her drawing and Belle unfolded the letter again. It was plain from James’ words that he too understood very clearly the risk entailed in what he was asking. She read the last sentence over and over. ‘I do not ask this lightly and will understand if you do not feel able to help this time, but please accept my assurance that I would willingly sacrifice my own life to preserve yours.’ He had signed it, ‘With all my love, James.’
The prospect of what lay ahead frightened her but there was no choice and she had already sent her answer. She would do it for him and then it would be done. She looked at his signature one last time before carefully folding the letter and placing it in her trunk.
❖ ❖ ❖
It was half an hour after midnight that Caine announced they should make their move. Frank was glad. He’d never seen Caine look apprehensive about anything before, yet the longer the evening had gone on, the more nervous Caine seemed to become and it was clear that his nervousness was affecting the others.
All Frank wanted now was to put the night behind him and to get as far away from Caine as was possible. He wondered what had affected the man like this. Perhaps it was because the last job had gone wrong, or because it was the third robbery in under a month; more likely he thought it was because he no longer had Harry Wood and Jeb to rely on. Caine had grown soft, too old, too used to giving orders. He’d forgotten what it was like to take the risks himself. Frank could see it in his face. Caine the hardened criminal, feared by half of Bath, was scared at the thought of a simple burglary. Perhaps he should stay in Bath, he thought; make a bid for the gang himself, now that Jeb and Harry Wood were out of the way. He knew he could do it. Even on the last job when things had gone wrong, he hadn’t panicked. The escape had been better than the break-in. All those hard men had gone to pieces, but he had stayed cool as a cucumber and led them out of the house.
As they walked up to Queen Square, Frank had to keep stopping to let Caine catch up. They’d split into two parties so as not to draw attention to themselves, Caine’s men carrying the tools in case they were stopped, but Caine seemed reluctant to stay with him. ‘It’s very quiet,’ Caine said when he finally caught up.
‘That’s good,’ Frank replied. ‘And better than that, there’s no peelers about.’
They looked up at the front of the house. It was all in darkness and Caine signalled to the men to make their way to the lane at the back of Queen Square. There, at the back of the house was a stable yard and a number of outhouses. Frank took the lead and tried tentatively to open the tall gate leading into the yard, but it was bolted. He motioned to one of the men who crouched beneath the wall, interlinking his fingers ready to take his weight. Frank placed one foot in the stirruped hands and scrabbled to the top of the wall. There were no lights at the back of the house and all was quiet. He let himself back to the ground. ‘Are we ready then?’ he asked, smiling.
‘You go in,’ Caine said. ‘I’ll check the front again. Leave the gate open for me.’
‘That’s not what we planned,’ Frank said.
‘I just want to be sure.’ Caine said. ‘Don’t waste time jabbering. Get on with it.’ He turned and walked away.
Frank cursed Caine under his breath before clambering over the wall and letting the others through the gate. At least Caine had chosen men who knew their jobs well and they needed no instruction. The first opened the window catch with his knife and eased the window open wide, while the second slipped the small jack between the middle two bars of the window. A couple of minutes of careful cranking and the bars bent apart as gently and silently as though they were made of wax.
Frank quickly realised he was the only one slender enough to slip between the bars, but he got in easily enough. The moment he set foot inside the dark hallway he slipped back the bolts on the back door and turned the key in the lock. Caine’s men entered silently and shut the door behind them.
The second it was shut, the other two doors leading into the hallway flew open. Uniformed bodies filled the room. Frank knew instantly that there was no escape. He offered little resistance, grinning in the faces of his captors and holding out his hands to show he had no weapon. In their lamp lights he could see at least a half dozen if not more of them. Two of the peelers grabbed his arms, one on each side of him and began leading him into the stable yard. He watched over his shoulder as the others wrestled Caine’s men to the floor. Still he did nothing as they pushed him out of the back door into the yard. He knew Caine would be outside and he knew that he would be ready.
❖ ❖ ❖
Caine had walked slowly back to the front of the house, trying to calm his mind, to dispel the nagging feelings inside him. His throat burnt as though he had drunk a pint of vinegar, and the cramps were sweeping through his stomach again in great wrenching waves of pain. He had felt the ache growing all through the day. His body would not be stilled now, reacting to a fear that seemed to increase by the minute, as though this were the first job he had ever done. Every instinct in his mind shrieked warnings. Something was wrong and his whole body sensed it.
He looked around him. There was always a peeler patrolling around Queen Square at this time of the morning – why not now and why did it seem so quiet? He stood in front of the house and closed his eyes, letting them adjust to the blackness. When he opened them again he saw it. He thought he had imagined it at first, but he could see it plainly now. There was a small glow in an inner room of the house, like a single shielded candle, or a lamp set very low. Then the light became brighter.
His first instinct was to run back and warn them, but if he was right, then it was probably too late. He began running, but he could already hear the shouting from the rear of the house. He stopped outside the back wall and stood in the shadows
of the yard gate that had swung open into the lane.
The two peelers on either side of Harcourt were chattering to each other as they led him out of the house. Frank looked directly at him, as though he had been expecting him. Caine watched them. Neither of the peelers had seen him yet. Harcourt was staring at him, as he cocked and aimed the pistol. He began trying to shake his arms free from the peelers, still staring towards Caine, his face pleading. Despite his efforts Harcourt could not shake himself free and instead he shouted, ‘Shoot; what are you waiting for?’
The pistol sounded like a cannon in the stillness of the night. For a fraction of a second, Caine watched as Harcourt’s body slumped lifeless between the two peelers. Then he slammed the gate closed and propped a rock at its base before running down Princes Street. By the time he heard the pursuing footsteps drawing near he was already approaching the maze of Avon Street alleyways, and soon the footsteps faded into the distance.
Only when he was sitting alone, back in the house, did the thought of what he had done truly hit home. The calm and control he had felt when he pulled the trigger were gone now, but he had no regrets. His men could be relied on not to talk – but Harcourt? Harcourt would have told them everything in exchange for his freedom, or a lighter sentence. The man had no honour. Caine knew he couldn’t take the chance.
Yet he kept seeing Frank’s face in the shadows of the room; hearing his voice like a muffled cry in every creak and groan of its timbers. He grabbed the bottle of brandy from the table and spitting out the cork, drank half its contents, swallow after swallow.
❖ ❖ ❖
Sean brought the news of the robbery to the house in Walcot Parade on the afternoon of the following day. James felt strangely emotionless when he heard of Harcourt’s death. His revenge could not be more complete, and yet for a while he could remember none of the wrong the man had done, but only the times they had laughed together. He looked at Charlie and John, strangely silent, perhaps because they understood his mixed emotions, or perhaps they simply respected his need to come to his own understanding of what had happened.
Avon Street Page 37