‘I’ll go, Mattie.’
‘No, you won’t,’ she whispered, gripping the front of his shirt and pushing him behind her. ‘If they’re after you I’ll tell them you’re not here and you can slip away after they’ve gone.’
‘But Mattie—’
‘You said yourself the only way you’ll ever be able to clear your name is to pursue your investigation into Stebbins’s business.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Well, tell me, how are you going to do that if you’re bound in shackles and on a slow boat back to Australia?’
‘Oh my God, Mattie. Be careful, sweetheart,’ he said, trying to ignore the deep sense of foreboding settling in the pit of his stomach.
Mattie kissed him. ‘Don’t fret yourself. I’ve been dealing with the local coppers since I was a nipper.’
Maguire’s yard didn’t hold much truck with the local peelers. Occasionally a constable would drop by asking if any of the delivery men had seen a local jack-the-lad they were after and, for the most part, Mattie could truthfully answer no. If she couldn’t she kept schtum.
The leading officer marched over, his studded boots scrunching over the coal chips, and halted within an arm’s reach. The other two officers followed and stood ramrod straight just behind him, their eyes darting around the yard.
‘Mrs Maguire?’
‘How can I help you, officer?’
‘I’m Sergeant Makepeace from Wapping Police Office and these are Constables Milton and Waverly,’ he nodded behind him. ‘We’re making some inquiries about one of your drivers.’
‘Which one?’ Mattie managed to force out.
‘Jack Archer. Is he here?’ Makepeace asked, watching her closely.
Get a grip on yourself, Mattie Maguire,’ she told herself. ‘No! Not at the moment,’ she replied in what could have passed for her normal voice. ‘He . . . he stowed his cart an hour ago and went off somewhere. Why?’
Makepeace rested his left hand lightly on the hilt of his cutlass. ‘I have good reason to believe that the man you know as Jack Archer is in fact Nathaniel Tate, a convicted embezzler who . . .’
Somehow, Mattie managed to feign shock as she listened to the sergeant recount the story, pretty much as Nathaniel had done himself.
‘. . . we understand he’s been working here for five months and for the last two of those he has lodged with you,’ Makepeace concluded.
Mattie swallowed and just managed to maintain her calm manner as her mouth lost all moisture.
Makepeace nodded to the constables behind him. ‘You don’t mind if we take a look do you?’ he asked as his men marched off to search the yard.
‘Er . . . no,’ Mattie replied, her heart thundering in her chest. ‘But I’ve already told you he’s not here.’
The officers looked behind the carts and kicked the pile of brown sacks waiting to be filled for tomorrow’s rounds. They were just about to return to where she and the sergeant stood when Buster trotted in from his evening sniff around the streets. He stopped and cocked his head and barked at the newcomers. If Buster went to the stable they would find Nathaniel immediately.
‘Buster!’ The dog’s ears pricked up. ‘Go see Brian,’ Mattie told him.
His tail whipped through the air as he scampered towards the garden gate. He scratched at it a couple of times, then nosed it open and disappeared. Mattie’s heart slowed a fraction until she spotted one of the constables at the stable door.
‘Don’t you go unsettling my horses, constable,’ she shouted, praying Nathaniel would hear.
The officer drew his cutlass and continued forward. Mattie held her breath expecting to see him reappear at any moment with the tip of his blade in the small of Nathaniel’s back. After what seemed like forever he reappeared and shook his head.
‘Right, let’s take a look in here,’ Makepeace said striding towards the house. Gathering her skirts, Mattie dashed after him.
Annie was reading at the table and her jaw dropped when the three men crowded into the kitchen, scraping their hats on the low ceiling as they tried to stand upright.
‘It’s alright, Annie,’ Mattie said, pushing between them.
‘Brian was yawning so I put him to bed for you, Auntie Mattie,’ Annie said, her eyes like two enormous saucers.
‘You can head off home now and tell your mam I’ll be around as usual,’ Mattie said, smiling reassuringly.
Annie gathered her school books and as she walked past Makepeace his hairy hand clamped over her shoulder. ‘Have you seen Jack Archer?’
‘No. I ain’t,’ she replied.
He stared down at her for a long moment then relinquished his grip. ‘Off you go now, young lady, and don’t talk to strangers.’
Annie shot out of the door.
Makepeace strode towards the hall door. ‘Tate’s room’s through here, isn’t it?’ He marched into the hall closely followed by the two constables and Mattie.
As the officers searched through Nathaniel’s room, Mattie dashed upstairs and stationed herself by Brian’s open door. He was asleep with Buster lying at the foot of the bed.
Having finished downstairs the officers, led by their sergeant, clumped upstairs and started crashing through the bedrooms.
‘There’s only my son up here,’ Mattie said, as Makepeace peered over her shoulder into Brian’s room. Buster growled and he stood back.
‘Anything?’ asked Makepeace as his officers reappeared.
‘No, Sergeant.’
Makepeace turned and marched them downstairs and Mattie followed. As Mattie reached the last step the sergeant rounded on her.
‘When are you expecting him back?’
She shrugged. ‘He has a key to the front door so he comes and goes as he pleases. I’m usually in bed when he returns.’
‘You mean he don’t rouse you when he gets in?’ Waverley asked.
Milton snorted, and the sergeant’s moustache curled up at the edges.
‘How dare you?’ Mattie demanded. ‘I am a respectable widow, I’ll have you know.’
Makepeace loomed over her. ‘Respectable widow are you, Mrs Maguire? My informant—’
Informant?
‘—tells me that Nathaniel Tate does a great deal more than deliver coal for you, a whole lot more and that you’ve been sheltering him from Her Majesty’s justice.’
‘That is a lie,’ Mattie replied calmly, wondering how many Hail Marys Father Mahoney would demand for such a mortal sin.
Makepeace chewed his abundant moustache. ‘You know the penalty for harbouring a fugitive from the law, don’t you, Mrs Maguire?’
She nodded.
Makepeace stared back at her for a long moment and fear tightened Mattie’s stomach.
‘Waverly! Make yourself comfortable in the front parlour there and keep an eye on the door.’ He turned to Mattie. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’
‘Of course not,’ she replied, hoping only she could hear the panic in her voice
‘You come with me,’ the sergeant commanded the remaining constable as he strode through the kitchen door and into the yard.
As much as she needed to hold him close just one last precious time before he had to leave, Mattie prayed that Nathaniel had taken the opportunity to slip away while the house was searched.
When the two officers reached the front gate the sergeant turned and touched the rim of his top hat.
‘Does this gate only open from the inside?’
Mattie nodded.
‘Then bolt it after me and I’ll put a man to watch the front door.’ A devious smile spread across his florid face. ‘And when Tate returns tonight we’ll have him.’
As Nathaniel heard the sound of metal scraping on metal, he scrambled out of the hay and touched his right cheek. It felt sticky. Another inch to the left and the officer’s blade cutting through the fodder would have pricked his eye out. He pulled the spiky stalks from his hair and clothes and peered around the open stable door. The street lamp at the corner of Cann
on Street Road glowed and in its dim light he saw Mattie secure the top bolt across the double gates. He cursed himself for not leaving weeks ago but it served no purpose to dwell on his foolishness.
She entered the cool darkness of the stable and Nathaniel stepped out from behind the hay hopper. A watery light filtered through the gaps in the walls and bathed Mattie in a silvery sheen. Love and guilt mingled together in Nathaniel’s mind as he gazed at her.
‘Mattie, I’m sorry—’
‘Ssss,’ she whispered and then she noticed his face. ‘What happened?’ She touched his cheek and set it smarting again.
‘It’s nothing. I have to go before they come back.’
Mattie pushed him into the shadows. ‘You have to stay until it’s safe for you to leave without them finding out you’ve been here all along.’ She glanced into the yard. ‘One of the peelers is sitting in my front room and he’ll wonder what’s keeping me. Stay here until I’ve dealt with him.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
Waverly was still making himself at home in the unused parlour when Mattie returned. She struck a Lucifer and lit two lamps taking one of them with her to check on Brian. He was still asleep in his usual position – on his back with one arm outstretched and the other across his chest. Holding the light high she gazed down on her sleeping son. If anything should happen to him!
When she went back downstairs she found Constable Waverly had dragged an old upholstered chair near to the door and had settled himself. Comfortably, he sat slouched in the chair with his arms along the high armrests and his knees struck up at a sharp angle in front. He’d snuffed out his bulls-eye lamp and had set it on the floor but still had his collar buttoned under the rolls of his chin. His cutlass rested across his lap and a muffled, whistling snore betrayed his lack of vigilance. Mattie popped her head around the corner.
‘Is everything alright, officer?’
Waverly jumped, and blinked rapidly. He gave her a severe look. ‘You should be careful, Missus. It can be very dangerous to startle a member of Her Majesty’s constabulary,’ he said, struggling to sit upright within the softly padded chair. ‘We are trained to respond in an instant.’
‘I’m sorry, Constable, it’s just that I wondered if you would like a hot cup of cocoa.’
‘That’s very kind of you, Missus, but I’m not allowed to take refreshments while on duty,’ he replied in a regretful tone.
Mattie winked. ‘I won’t tell Sergeant Makepeace if you don’t.’ Indecision ran back and forth across his face. ‘There’s a slice of cake too.’
‘Well, a man has to keep body and soul together,’ he said, patting the shiny belt straining around his considerable girth.
‘You set yourself at ease, and I’ll be but a moment.’ Mattie shot back to the kitchen, pulled the kettle onto the heat and collected her largest mug and then the tin of cocoa. She poured a splash of milk into the saucepan and while it heated she spooned the powered cocoa and heap of sugar into the mug. Catching the milk as it rose in the pan, she poured it into the cup, stirred it vigorously and then topped it up with boiling water. She held the cup for a second and sniffed the rich, sweet milky aroma of the drink then reached for Queenie’s bottle of laudanum on the windowsill.
Nathaniel put one eye to a crack in the stable wall. The moon was high and bathed the yard, the wagons and the house in a jaundiced light. The fog from the river had swirled up and sat in wispy patches, obscuring the carts one moment then floating over the coal heaps like clouds around a mountain. Behind him the rhythmic crunch of the horses working their way through their suppers and the scurrying of mice were the only disturbance in the night. He pressed his forehead to the wooden plank and manoeuvred himself so he could see the back door to the house. Still nothing. Nathaniel forced himself to remain calm and focused. His freedom and, more importantly, Mattie’s safety, depended on him keeping a clear head.
As he paced back and forth across the straw-covered floor he wondered why, after all this time, had the police suddenly come looking for him in Maguire’s yard? The answer was simple; because someone had told them where he was. Nathaniel had a pretty good idea who that someone might be.
St George’s clock chimed the half hour.
Three hours! For the love of God, where was she.
Had more police arrived? Were they trying to extract information from her? Perhaps he should just give himself up. But then what?
Finally, he heard Mattie’s delicate tip-toe outside. Nathaniel hid himself again in case she had the police with her.
‘Nathaniel?’ Mattie whispered.
He stepped out from behind the byre and enfolded her in his arms. ‘Thank God.’
‘I would have been back sooner,’ she said, checking the cut on his cheek again, ‘but I had to make sure the officer was asleep before I could.’
‘Asleep? What if he hears something and stirs,’ Nathaniel asked. ‘Mattie, it’s too risky. Go back in the house and I’ll take my chances. If they catch me I’ll tell them you didn’t know I was hiding.’
‘He won’t wake.’
‘But, Mattie—’
‘I added a little of Queenie’s laudanum to his chocolate.’
‘You drugged him?’ She nodded. ‘For mercy’s sake, how much did you give him?’
‘Just a drop. He’s grand and snoring away fit to wake the dead.’ She shoved his kit bag at him. ‘Now come on. I’ve packed a couple of your shirts and your jacket and trousers. There’s two shillings tucked in the pocket—’
‘I can’t take your money.’
She brushed his objections away with her hand. ‘It must be almost five now so you can slip out the gates and mingle with the men on their way to the sugar refinery. Nobody will take any notice of you in the fog. And, Nathaniel, there’s something else . . . Makepeace let slip that he had an informer.’
‘It must be Stebbins. It can’t be anyone else’
Mattie urged him towards the door but he pulled her close. ‘You must go.’
He lowered his lips to hers and seared the feel of her into his mind. After tonight, there was no telling how long it would be until he could hold her again. He stepped back and held her chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger and studied her face, to remember every little detail. ‘Let’s go.’
Upstairs in the house, Brian turned and reached for Buster but found his spot empty. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, then scrambled off the bed and jigged on the bare floorboards as his bladder stirred. He pulled his china gazunder from under the bed and when he was done, looked out of the window. The first pink streaks were only just cutting through the cloudy sky so he knew it wasn’t time to get up. He went to his door.
‘Buster!’ he whispered as loudly as he dared.
Nothing stirred. Picking up one of his soldiers to protect him from any monsters lurking in the shadows, Brian trotted along the landing. He poked his head around Mammy’s door and he studied the empty bed draped with its unruffled patchwork counterpane. Brian’s small hand clutched his wooden toy tighter. Where was everyone?
A loud snore echoed up the stairwell – Jack must be here.
Since Jack had moved into the front room the feel of the house had changed. It was as if a cosy towel, like the one Mammy warmed on the front of the range for his weekly bath, was wrapped around them all.
At the bottom of the stairs he noticed that the door to the room opposite Jack’s was open. He tiptoed down the stairs and peered around the door frame then clamped his hand over his mouth to hold in a rush of giggles. Wedged in the old chair was the largest policeman he had ever seen. His arms dangled to the floor and his head had fallen back, leaving his mouth gaping as wide as one of the painted heads you threw a ball into at the Bow Fair. The officer’s top hat lay upturned on the floor behind him, and as he dragged in each breath the edges of his moustache followed briefly before being blown upward again. Mammy’s best mug lay tipped on its side next to the chair.
Brian bit his bottom lip. Everyone knew that y
ou had to answer nicely when a policeman spoke to you and not use bad words like feck or shite. But Brian wasn’t sure what you were supposed to do with a sleeping one so he turned towards the kitchen, where Buster was curled up tightly in front of the hearth.
‘Where’s Mammy?’ he asked the dog.
Buster gave a little whine and then trotted out of the kitchen. Brian collected his boots from beside the fire, slipped them on and clopped out of the kitchen after his dog.
Mattie gathered up her skirts and, crouching low, scurried across the open space from the stable to the wagons with Nathaniel close behind. Although it was impossible to walk silently across the jagged fragments of coal, thankfully the fog had practically obscured the main gates on the other side of the yard and muffled the sound.
It only took a moment for her to unlock the bolts but it felt as if time had suddenly slowed.
Nathaniel turned to her. ‘I love you, Mattie Maguire, and as God is my witness, I won’t rest until we are wed.’
‘I know,’ she whispered and untangled herself from his embrace.
Suddenly, the garden gate creaked. Surely Waverley hadn’t woken up! But what if he had? She felt Nathaniel tense and step in front of her. Mattie grabbed his arm and stared into the fog wide-eyed with terror.
‘Mammy,’ shouted Brian, clomping towards them with Buster close behind.
Mattie met him half way across the yard, scooped him up and held him close to her. ‘Shhhh. You’ll wake everyone,’ she whispered to him, praying he wouldn’t shout again.
‘The policeman?’ he asked, pointing at the house.
‘Yes, the policeman. We mustn’t wake him.’
Brian nodded and put his finger on his lips. Mattie settled him on her hip then turned to Nathaniel. He had his hand on Buster’s collar and the dog’s tail swiped back and forth across the ground and his tongue lolled out on one side as he panted.
‘Bolt the gate as soon as I’ve gone and don’t open it again. No matter what,’ Nathaniel told her.
‘Is Jack going?’ Brian asked.
She and Nathaniel exchanged an apprehensive look. Mattie jigged her son on her hip.
Perhaps Tomorrow Page 24