Sweet Thames

by Matthew Kneale

  ‘That’s the last time you shove me, yer half dead, ancient ole bastard.’

  ‘Spill beer on me, would’yer, yer shrivelled up bugger. You’ll have yerself inside yer coffin ahead of time, yer will.’

  The crowd had gathered about in a circle to watch, chanting their support – for ‘New Boots’ or ‘Green Shirt’ – with rising enthusiasm as the combat progressed – if rather woodenly – and the two aged fighters grew marked with sweat and blood. Jem and Sal were as keen spectators as any, Jem much annoyed that his lack of size prevented his obtaining a clear view. Though I felt little excitement at the spectacle – indeed, the sight depressed my spirits – I took my place beside them, and I was still there when I observed the prim fellow. He must have asked which I was, as he strode towards me with intention.

  ‘Are you the one who broke the handle from the pump in Boot Lane?’

  The man could hardly have looked more out of place in such a spot; his clothes were those of an office clerk, carefully attired for a day of inky scribbling, while his face seemed to match. Nor was I the only one to regard him with curiosity; several of the crowd cast winking glances at one another. He himself seemed oblivious to his visibility, regarding me with the air of one of no little power.

  I guessed his purpose. Something of this kind had been bound to happen. ‘What of it?’

  A neat smile. ‘You are required to visit the offices of the Westminster and Thames Water Company, tomorrow morning, to pay the full sum needed to have the device repaired. If you do not, then legal action will be taken against you for your destruction.’

  Had I been less tired I would have been angrier. As it was, I merely shook my head. ‘I have already written to The Times, and the Metropolitan Committee for Sewers, urging them to take legal action against your water company. I had every reason to break the pump, seeing as it was your pipe that caused the Cholera here.’

  One only had to look at the fellow’s face to see he was no man to see reason. Nor did he. Instead he embarked on all manner of self-righteous utterings – how his company’s water was pure as could be, and had never caused harm to anyone – then returning to the cheerful theme of legal threats, now for my slandering their good name.

  The consequence was perhaps inevitable. Especially with the example of the fight so near to hand. The tattooed giant – who had earlier slapped my back in congratulation and sent me reeling – and another, hardly smaller, showed a lively interest in knocking the clerk down. I tried to dissuade them, but the notion proved too attractive for them to let it go. The prim fellow was still uttering monotone threats when he and his neat office clothes found themselves rolling upon the muddy ground.

  A spirited type in his clerkish way, he showed no flusterment, jumping up sharply. ‘I’ll be back. And with officers of the law.’

  The two giants only laughed. I watched him go with less satisfaction. He was a ludicrous sight, true enough, but his words seemed to tell of struggles to come; struggles to change minds, dislodge ideas thoroughly welded in place. Such battles would not be easy.

  ‘Sal’s fallen asleep,’ Jem observed. Nor was he exaggerating; she was quite drooped upon his shoulder, her mouth open and emitting something like a faint snoring. ‘P’raps we’d better go back.’

  A relief. ‘Certainly.’

  Movement caused Sal to be jolted into wakefulness, and she closed her mouth. ‘We not gone yet?’

  I gave Jem a hand marching her away, and we left the crush of the crowd.

  ‘Still lookin’ for that gal o’ yours, is yer?’

  Perhaps I should not have been surprised. The cry of ‘Free Beer’ had, after all, brought quite an invasion of fellows, including – as with the shore workers – many who did not even belong to the district, but had merely been passing near by. Though it was hard in the dim light to see exactly how many were gathered, it felt as if half the vagrants and thieves and sellers-of-nothings of London were present.

  ‘Is yer?’

  It was a moment before I recognized the lad. He looked quite different without a King Charles spaniel beneath each arm. Indeed, he seemed restless without such burdens, his hands twitching about his pockets as if in search of something to do with themselves.

  ‘What if I am?’

  I will not easily forget the strange gleam in the fellow’s eyes. ‘I jest seen her, in’t I.’

  ‘This going to take long, is it?’ Jem, in a drunkenly contrary mood, and confused by our chatter, now wanted to be home without delay. ‘Sal wants to get ’er kip.’

  ‘It might,’ I admitted, unwilling to let go so fine a chance. ‘I could follow you later.’ I glanced at Sal. ‘Can you manage her alone?’

  He nodded. ‘Of course. I’ll see yer then.’

  After the fraudulent advice of the Cafe Castelnau waiter, that had sent me upon such a long path to nowhere, I was more than a little suspicious of this second peddler of information. ‘Can you prove it was her?’ I demanded. ‘What was she like?’

  The dog seller, unflustered, answered only by reaching to the back of his muddy neck. ‘Got a mole, in’t she. Jest there.’

  It was not a reply I had expected. Indeed, it caused me much unsettlement. I had myself only seen the mark on a few occasions, as it was usually concealed beneath her hair. ‘How did you learn that?’

  He gave a kind of secretive leer. ‘What’s it matter? I proved it was her, in’t I.’ His look grew more calculating. ‘Now, what money you got?’

  Money. Indeed, this was something of a difficulty. I felt in my pocket; little now remained of the shillings I had gained for the sewer spoon. ‘One and six. It’s all I have.’

  ‘You must be joking.’ He uttered the words with some disgust. ‘One an’ six, after all the trouble I’d be goin ter.’

  I felt a kind of breathlessness; I could not let this opportunity slip. ‘Now wait. There must be some way…’ Of all the worldly goods left to me . . . ‘I have a telescope that’s worth two guineas at least. It’s in my lodgings, close by here.’

  He regarded me suspiciously. ‘This ain’t some trick o’ yours, is it?’

  ‘What trick could it be? I cannot force you to show her to me.’

  A wary nod. ‘Aw’right. Though don’t you think of tryin’ no clevernesses.’

  To climb those stairs, that led to my old lodgings – so familiar, yet already seeming so remote – was strange to me. Also difficult, as they were unlit at this late hour. I felt my way ahead with outstretched fingers. My main concern was that, my room having been abandoned these past days, the telescope would have vanished. Consequently it was with some relief that, stepping within – the chamber dimly illuminated by the light of the moon – I saw the metal glinting. On the floor near by stood the bucket, still containing the water that had so occupied my thoughts during my night of sickness.

  ‘Here it is.’ The dog seller inspected the thing. ‘You’re sure I’ll catch meself two guineas fer this?’

  ‘Sure as can be. You might get more.’ I took it from him. ‘Now where is she?’

  That leer again. ‘I’ll show you. It’s near enough.’

  His words were no more reassuring than his look. We were in the heart of one of the worst slums in all London, so how could she be near by… ? Unless… Was it here that she had been, of all places? So close to where I had myself been lodging? ‘Tell me where.’

  He looked now a touch uneasy. ‘What’s yer hurry? I’ll show you right enough.’ He gave me a furtive look. ‘It don’t matter where she is, so long as I find her for yer, eh? I still get that d’vice o’ yours, dunn I?’

  A discouraging question, but I saw no objection I might well make. ‘Very well.’

  ‘Jest follow us.’

  During those moments when I feel there might indeed be a deity watching over us – rare now, after my conversion to disbelief – I like to believe I might, that evening, have been the beneficiary of a minor instance of divine intervention. That I was judged deserving of a nudge of help. Becaus
e, finally, my notions had completed their changings. After all those months of anger, jealousy and vague notions of revenge, quite a different motive now drove me in search of Isobella. I feared for her.

  Nor was my concern diminished as the lad began to lead the way. Rather than take the route that would take us most quickly from the slum, he strode towards its centre.

  ‘It was recently that you saw her?’ I asked.

  ‘A few hours ago.’ Again that unpleasant smile. ‘But do’n worry yerself. She’ll be there aw’right. She won’t ’ave gone nowheres.’

  We soon reached the Seven Dials; an uneasy confluence of such a number of lanes, from which, at any one time, it was impossible to gain a clear line of vision along more than one or two of the roadways, though footsteps and murmurs seemed to faintly echo from all directions.

  ‘Lookin’ fer company, boys?’

  Even at this late hour a few tarts were still at their posts, voices curling out of the darkness.

  ‘Want warmin’ up some this rainy night?’

  ‘Where’s yer off ter in such a rush?’

  The suggestions were directed mainly towards the dog seller, as, sad to tell, he was the less dismally dressed of the two of us. He gave the women not so much as a glance, his thoughts well fixed upon his reward.

  On we strode, past three urchins playing a ragged late night game of kicking a brick. Past a cart loaded with carrots lodged by the roadside, a drunken man lying upon them, singing to the heavens. Past a huge fellow strewn in the gutter, dead to the world – whether from gin or violence – two women crouched upon him, lightening his pockets.

  And whence then? To nowhere other than the street – the very building – where Katie had her lodgings. The dog seller stopped before the entrance.

  Here, of all places? It seemed hardly possible. ‘You’re sure this is right?’

  That smile. ‘Certainly I is.’

  Now I hoped for a mistake, hoped that – unlikely though it was – my guide might, like the smooth-faced waiter of the Cafe Castelnau, have merely seen a stranger who resembled the portrait of Isobella. Into the building I followed, telescope in hand. Up the stairs, to the first floor, and higher, to the very level where Katie had her lodgings. Indeed, we hurried by her door. And on, to that beyond.

  ‘Here?’

  ‘That’s right.’ Though he said no more, the dog seller had in his eye a look of stifled amusement. And so, with something like a spreading sickness within, I realized how he must have come to discover my wife.

  Isobella, who had been always so prudish. Who had never let me so much as touch her. Nor even that fool Gideon Lewis… With this grimy child, smelling of dogs and street filth. And with goodness knew who else… It seemed beyond comprehension.

  I stood for a moment, reeling.

  My guide, grinning mildly to himself, gave the wood a sharp knock. But there was silence. He frowned. ‘She’s in there aw’right.’ He knocked again. ‘Must be.’

  Still nothing.

  He pushed open the door. Following him I saw, from the faint glow through the window, that the room was much like Katie’s; peeling walls, a ruffled bed, a stench of damp. And other odours.

  It was quite empty.

  The dog seller stared about him, mystified. ‘I dun geddit.’ He peered beneath the bed, as if she might be hiding there. ‘She was ’ere before. You believe me about that, now, do’n yer?’

  I did not trouble to answer. Isobella in such a place… In this room… Only a few hours before.

  ‘She’ll come back, for certin.’ The other was concerned for his reward. ‘Not my fault she’s gone off somewheres. I took yer where she should’ve bin, din’t I.’ He shook his head, annoyed. ‘We can wait if you likes.’

  Then a thought occurred to me; one that caused me a sudden whirl of anger. If she had been here… Telescope in hand, I stepped back on to the landing, and to the door beyond. It was shut, but light shone out from beneath, while I could hear a rustling from within. I turned the handle.

  An untimely entrance. Katie was in the very midst of her work, all but vanished – thin limbs outstretched, as some crushed starfish – beneath a huge blubbery sort with a reddened face.

  ‘What the fooch…?’ He sounded drunk.

  ‘Out of here.’

  He blinked, uncertain as to what dangerous ruse might be being played out against him. Wide-eyed, and murmuring inaudible abuse, he slipped off Katie and struggled to hop into his trousers.

  ‘How dare you come a marchin’ in here.’ Katie had wrapped a sheet about herself, giving her the look of a dishevelled Romaness.

  ‘How dare you...’ My anger outmatched her own. ‘The woman I sought, here in this building all this time – in the very next room to yours – and you never told me.’

  The customer, boots unlaced and shirt hanging loose like a smock, but otherwise dressed, made his escape. In his place the dog seller took the chance to perch himself in a corner, that he might watch his interests.

  ‘What of it?’ Katie was cowed rather than repentant. ‘What law says I has ter tell you anything?’

  ‘How long has she been here?’

  She shrugged. ‘Jest a week or so.’

  A week. A whole week. And through all that time Isobella had been lodged only a few hundred yards away from where I had been sleeping. ‘You knew it was important.’

  Her voice rose in sudden defiance. ‘What of it? Yer shouldn’ave tol’ me them lies, Aldwych. All that stuff ’bout buildin’ them rileways an’ that You shouldn’ave led a poor gal on.’

  So that was it. A form of lunatic revenge for an invented slight. ‘Where is she now?’

  ‘How should I know?’

  I detected a wavering in her voice, suggesting she knew more than she cared to admit. ‘Where?’

  She shrugged, uneasy. ‘A geezer turned up earlier lookin’ for her. Very pale, he was, like he’d never been outdoors. She went off with him.’

  ‘A pale bloke?’ The dog seller showed interest. ‘Why that sounds jest like the one came round Haymarket askin’ if I’d seen her.’

  ‘But where did they go?’

  ‘I dunno, do I.’ Katie adjusted her sheet, without great concern. ‘I heard him out on the landing. Making a proper rumpus he was, as she wouldn’t open the door and he had to shout through it. Kept seyin’ she should come back with him someplace, and see someone – din’t say who.’ She glanced behind her, as if curious at some detail of the grimy wall. ‘For a bit he didn’t sound as if he was gettin’ nowhere. But then, next time I looked out, there she was walkin’ off with him. Quiet, too, like she knew him.’

  As if she knew him? ‘Did she say when she might return?’

  ‘Naaah.’

  That she had left with this mysterious fellow – who had been searching for her almost as long as I – made her disappearance all the more worrying. I could not be blocked again now, surely, when I had reached so close? When I truly had to find her. ‘Did she never mention places she liked to visit? Or people?’

  ‘Di’n speak ter ’er much, did I.’ Katie’s expression took on the look of one unjustly snubbed; it seemed I had struck a sore point.

  I stared about the room, caught between abhorrence and a kind of awful curiosity. ‘And me…’ I faltered over the question. Yet it had to be asked. ‘She was… as you are?’

  ‘A tart, you mean?’ Katie snapped back the words. ‘What else d’you think she was doing in hare? Having herself some piana lessons?’

  A smirking look passed across the dog seller’s face.

  Still it seemed as a madness to me. How could she…? ‘Where’d she been before?’

  Katie shrugged. ‘Whitechapel I think she said it was. Somewhere round there, anyways. Though I think she’d bin through a few places. Kept moving on.’

  I recalled, of all things, the strange message, calling out from among the listed vegetables and fruits. WHY CAN HE NOT LEAVE ME ALONE? A kind of ghastly picture was beginning to form in my mind. Isobella
, a fugitive. Seeking sanctuary – I knew not whom from – in a life that could hardly have been more unendurable to her.

  ‘She didn’t have much to say to the likes of us gals,’ Katie resumed, complaintively. ‘Too good fer us, she was, with her little princess voice, and that look of hers, peerin’ down her nose like we was beneath her. Never sink ’erself so low as ter join us fer a brandy or that, would she.’ She tightened the towel about herself, petulantly. ‘Like that to her geezers, too, she was.’ A look akin to relish appeared on her face. ‘Not surprisin’ she got ’erself beat up.’

  ‘Beaten up?’

  ‘Yeah. Right royal. Nice shiner she picked up a coupl’a nights back, from some poor bloke she gave an ’ard time, tellin ’im ’ow ’e wasn’t ter do this, wasn’t ter touch ’er there. Askin’ fer it she was. Almost like she wanted ter’ get ’erself knocked about.’

  Even here, in this terrible place, she had been the same. But why have ventured near? Why not return to me? I found myself recalling the words of the dog seller, from all those months back.

  ‘...Like she wanted someone to clout her one…’

  But why?

  Katie warmed to her subject. ‘Got ’erself slapped about thorough. First day here she got knocked right in the gob, so her lips was swelled up like plums. An’ soon after, with another bloke…’

  I could not listen to more. ‘That’s enough.’

  Katie regarded me with something like malicious pleasure. ‘Don’t yer want to hear such things? Nasty, is they? They’s happened to me often enough, I can tell you. And every one of the gals round ’ere, too. But yer not interested in that, is yer, Aldwych? Yer just interested in this stupid snoot bitch o’ yers, in’t yer?’

  I left her there.

  The dog seller was close behind. ‘Where you going? What about me reward? Not my fault she’s gone orff.’