Jacob instructed the cab driver to wait and walked towards a gap between two houses. “We check this one last yard today,” said Jacob, “and we leave the rope works itself until tomorrow. Agreed?”
Kate reluctantly nodded her agreement and followed Jacob through the gap, under a wooden sign which read ‘Pindars Coconut Products’ and into a small yard which stretched thirty yards in front of her before turning away and disappearing behind more terraced houses. Coconut husks were piled high on the left, barely held back by rotting wooden fencing. To their right, a wall of husks curved round following the yard and almost hiding a small wooden hut. Kate looked towards the hut and saw two men almost identically dressed in long sleeved shirts with the arms rolled up to the elbows, waistcoats and flat caps. They were loading husks into a large wicker basket when one of them saw the newcomers and stopped. Jacob walked over to the man and showed him the two photographs.
“Do you know either of these two men?”
The man looked at the first photograph and turned away without saying a word, he ran behind the husks and into the small wooden shack. Raised voices could be heard and moments later a man in a brown tweed waistcoat and trousers stormed out of the hut. Kate stiffened as she saw the burn mark on the man’s cheek as he almost ran toward them.
“What’s your game then? Comin’ round here trying to frighten people,” said the man, his eyes were wide and glassy and his pupils like pin pricks.
“We’re not trying to frighten anyone,” said Jacob. “We’re trying to find out who this man is.” Jacob showed the man the photograph.
“Never seen him before,” replied the man, spitting a lump of brown sludge onto the floor just in front of Jacob’s feet.
“It got a reaction from your friend over there,” said Jacob pointing to the first man they had encountered.
“Poor Bert. He’s easily scared, even a photograph of a dead ‘un will get him running. As for him,” the man nodded toward the photo, “I’m the gaffer here and I know everyone that works in this place. I’ve never seen him before,” he said as he moved menacingly toward Jacob. “Now I suggest you and this pretty lady of yours leaves before there’s an accident.”
Kate looked around to see a number of men and women had joined them in the yard and were all watching the proceedings. She put her hand on Jacob’s arm.
“Jacob, I think we should go.”
“I’ll go when I get an answer.”
“You’ll go now,” said the man who promptly swung his fist around towards Jacob’s chin. Jacob took a step towards the man and turned to his side, easily blocking the punch and grabbing the man’s wrist in one movement as he did so. In a second movement, Jacob’s left elbow swung down and landed firmly in the man’s solar plexus. As the man exhaled in pain Jacob gripped his assailant’s arm with both hands and twisted it away from him. The man grunted in pain as his arm joints reached their natural limit and his upper body followed his arm in a subconscious attempt to stop the pain. He landed with an unceremonious thud in the dirt of the yard.
Jacob had kept hold of the man’s arm and was kneeling over him when a heavy blow landed above his left eye. He was momentarily stunned and then felt a stinging in his eyes, both eyes, not just the one which had been punched. Confusion spread through Jacob’s mind. He’d only been punched the once. Why did both eyes sting? Why had the attack stopped? Jacob then heard someone screaming they were blind. The screaming was promptly drowned out by a very loud, shrill whistle.
A constable.
Jacob suddenly realised he had let go of his assailant and tried to open his eyes in case of another attack. The pain was intense and he screwed his eyes shut as tightly as he could. He became aware of mucous oozing out of his nose and the fact he was drooling. Jacob pulled away as he felt someone take hold of his arm.
“It’s okay, it’s only me,” he heard Kate say and relaxed slightly. “The effects will wear off in a couple of minutes, you’ll be fine.”
“What the hell happened?”
“I managed to spray the man who punched you with Pava.”
“Sprayed him with what?”
Kate tried to think of a simple explanation, “It’s like a liquid pepper, you spray it into a person’s eyes and it incapacitates them for a short while. Unfortunately, some of it caught you too. The effects will wear off over the next hour.”
Jacob pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped his face, “Did I hear a police whistle?”
“Yes. There was a constable walking along the street as we went in. He must have followed us into the yard. When the fight started he blew his whistle and everyone ran. I don’t think they fancied a night in the cells.”
“I think we’d better call it a day and go back home,” said Jacob as he got to his feet. “It would be rude to be late, Solomon’s expecting us for dinner,” Kate took hold of his arm and held his hand as she guided him back to the cab.
“Where did you learn to fight like that?” asked Kate as she guided Jacob to his seat in the cab.
“I grew up in Brooklyn, it can be a tough neighbourhood sometimes.”
“That wasn’t street fighting, you learned that somewhere.”
“How long did you say the effects last?”
Kate had realised very quickly when Jacob wasn’t going to give her an answer. “About an hour or so,” she said looking at his red face as she sat next to him. “Your face is still a mess, let me clean you up,” she took the handkerchief from Jacob and gently started to wipe the blood from his face. “That’s a nasty cut you’ve got over your eye, you should have that seen to. It might need gluing.”
“I’ll take a look in the mirror when we get back.”
“At least, it’s stopped bleeding.”
Jacob winced as Kate dabbed the cut.
“I’m sorry, are you alright?”
“Yes honestly I’m fine,” he said, moving her hand away and guiding it down to the seat. “What do mean gluing?” Jacob said, “you mean stitching surely.”
“No, there’s such a thing as skin glue. As long as the cut is a clean one and it’s not bleeding you can glue the skin back together and then it dissolves.”
Jacob smiled, “Another fantastic invention from your time?” Kate smiled back and they both looked down. The smile vanished from Jacob’s face as he realised his hands were still cupped around Kate’s hands and the handkerchief. He pulled away, abashed at his own absent-mindedness.
“I’m sorry, forgive me I…”
“Don’t worry, it's fine,” said Kate realising she hadn’t pulled her own hands away either. Then deciding a change of direction was needed she added, “But you really do need to get that seen to.”
Jacob nodded and pushing the change of conversation further he said, “Did you see the tattoo on his hand?”
“No.”
“A tattoo of a wasp on the webbing between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand.”
“I didn’t see it but it doesn’t matter,” said Kate as she looked up to see two officers walking back with the man in the brown suit and bundle him into the back of a Black Maria. “We don’t need it to identify him, the constables said his name is Harry Finch. They said they were taking him to Limehouse Police Station.”
Jacob shook his head, “It is an identifying mark, but not for the police,” he said. “Underneath the wasp were the numbers 70-76. A lot of men who serve in the R.A.F. have the name of their ship and the dates served tattooed in this manner when they leave the service.”
“Since when do you have ships in the Royal Air Force?”
“Royal Air Force?” said Jacob, “That’s a good name, but I doubt it will catch on. That man was in the Royal Aerial Fleet and served on the H.M.A. Wasp between 1870 and 1876.”
“H.M.A.?”
“Her Majesties Airship.”
“Didn’t you say the name of the airship that crashed in Battersea Park was called the Wasp?”
“That’s right. He may well have been one of the
crew,” Jacob dabbed the cut. “Did you see his eyes?”
Kate nodded, “Yes, drugs of some kind. I couldn’t smell alcohol.”
“It was the tobacco,” said Jacob. “They drench it in laudanum and chew it. They go into a mild state of euphoria.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. It has a very distinctive sickly sweet smell. I got close enough to him. I’m sure. What do you make of his reaction? A little suspicious wouldn’t you say?”
“He certainly wasn’t happy to see us was he? And it’s not the first time I’ve seen him.”
“You know him?”
“No, but when I was on Battersea Bridge the day before yesterday I stumbled and someone helped me up. It was him. I remember the burn mark. And there was something else. Did you notice his footwear?”
“Jacob slowly shook his head.
He was wearing Dr Martens boots.”
“Who’s Doctor Marten?”
“No, it’s just a brand name, but I think I might know who they belong to.”
Kate leaned back into her seat and they spent the rest of the journey to St. Giles Square in silence looking out of their respective windows.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The ride back to Jacob’s house had been a quiet and distinctly awkward one. Despite Kate’s kind words Jacob had been mortified as to his behaviour. He was a reputable doctor with nothing but the most honourable intentions toward his new acquaintance. And even though that was completely true, Jacob couldn’t help thinking about how warm her hands had been even in this bitter cold. He hoped he had not ruined the trust they had built between them but he feared the worst when he saw Kate move around, slightly closer to the window of the cab.
Kate had spent the journey looking intently out of the cab's window. She wished she could have thought of something that would have eased Jacobs mind. He was her only friend in this world and, after all, it was only her hand. She smiled to herself at his reaction to such an innocent encounter and then she realised she had started to blush. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had blushed and all because Jacob had touched her hand. Kate shifted slightly in her seat and moved her head a little closer to the window.
***
When they arrived back at the house Laura had informed Jacob that Grace was still in bed as per his instructions, but now seemed to be well on the way to recovery. He had gone straight upstairs to see her. Kate had gone into the sitting room where she stood trying to warm herself in front of a crackling fire. She heard a knock on the front door as Jacob walked into the room.
“How is she?” asked Kate
“She’s still running a slight temperature but she’s clearly recovering better that I could have hoped for. Still, I’ve asked Miss Wheaton to keep a close eye on her.”
“That won’t be necessary. I will look after the girl.”
Kate looked around to see the woman who had completely ignored her the previous day walk imperiously into the sitting room.
“Naomi, how wonderful to see you,” said Jacob, not entirely convincingly thought Kate, “but you really don’t have to. Miss Wheaton is upstairs with her and is more than capable.”
“I’m sure she is, Jacob, but I insist. I won’t hear another word. You may give the governess the evening off”
“Well, that’s very good of you Naomi. I shall let Miss Wheaton know. In fact, she will be able to help Miss Lockwood choose something suitable to wear.”
“Oh?” said Naomi turning her head to finally look at the third person in the room. “And what is wrong with…what she is wearing?”
Kate looked down at the dress she had borrowed from Laura. It was torn and dirty from the fight in the yard and she wondered if there was a lingering smell from the morgue the previous day. Jacob saw the anger flash across Kate’s face and thought he saw her fist clench. He momentarily wondered if she had any of that liquid pepper she had used earlier left. He stepped forward between the two and turned to Naomi.
“We’re going to dinner tonight at Solomon’s. He invited us this morning. Miss Lockwood’s luggage has been lost during her travels and Miss Wheaton has kindly agreed to lend her something more suitable.”
This time, it was Naomi’s face that changed.
Feeling suddenly off-guard, Jacob led Kate into the hallway and called for Miss Wheaton, explaining when she had got only halfway downstairs that Kate would require another change of clothes. Kate and Laura exchanged glances knowing that Kate already had several of Laura’s dresses, but not wanting to put Jacob in an awkward position, Kate followed Laura upstairs. Walking back into the sitting room, Jacob was met by Naomi’s hard stare
“Naomi, Miss Lockwood is a client and our relationship is purely professional.”
“A client who you are taking to dinner, whilst she is staying as a guest in your home. I wonder if you are seeing this matter clearly, Jacob.”
“I see the matter quite clearly thank you,” said Jacob a little more sharply than he had intended. “Now if you will excuse me I must get ready.”
As Jacob walked up the stairs to his room he wondered if perhaps Naomi was right.
***
Jacob slid the gold chain along his thumb and pulled the watch out of his waistcoat pocket. Quarter to eight. He walked to the front door to make sure the brougham was still waiting outside when a noise at the top of the stairs suggested that his companion for the evening might finally be ready.
Miss Wheaton came down the stairs, “She’s coming now Doctor,” she said with a slight smile on her face.
Jacob looked up and watched Kate walk downstairs. She was dressed in an emerald green gown and matching bodice which was buttoned up the front to a square neck and a small cameo on a choker around her throat. Her hair was swept up in ringlets at the back with a curl hanging down either side. Jacob watched transfixed as Kate walked downstairs, not realising she still had her police work boots on. As she reached the last step Jacob automatically offered his hand and Kate took hold, smiling as she reached the hallway.
“Doctor McKinley, your brougham’s waiting,” said Miss Wheaton.
“Yes. Yes of course,” said Jacob who, realising he had been staring, turned and opened the front door. As Kate walked through he turned back to Miss Wheaton and said “Keep a close eye on Grace. If she takes a turn for the worse send a message and I’ll come immediately. We won’t be late.”
***
It had taken the brougham less than fifteen minutes to get to its destination. Tredgold Crescent in Belgravia was a long crescent with an area of parkland on one side and a row of impressive five-storey town-houses on the other. A maid had answered the door and shown them into a sitting room that made Jacob’s sitting room, as nice as it was, look impoverished by comparison.
They sat in silence for a short while, Jacob wondering what to say to his friend about the young woman sat opposite him, or if he should say anything at all. Kate, on the other hand, was desperate to talk to him. She needed to find out if he knew of a way home.
Eventually, Solomon Polperro made his entrance and welcomed his guests warmly. He apologised for his wife being absent as she had travelled to Brighton to be with her sick mother and beckoned them both into the dining room.
Dinner was spread over five courses and was, fortunately, not as bland as the conversation. It was clear that Jacob and Polperro had known each other since shortly after Jacob had come to England nearly ten years previously. They asked after each other’s family, Jacob mentioning how Grace was unwell, but no mention of Naomi. The only other point in the conversation that made Kate sit up and take notice was when it became clear that Solomon Polperro was a senior benefactor of Bethlam Hospital at St. Georges Field in Lambeth. Kate noticed the two men exchanged a brief glance when she asked if she could see the hospital. Polperro stated he could see no reason why not and, as Jacob had no objections, he would sort out the details. Kate decided not to mention that she knew full well the history of Bedlam hospital or, that in her time,
the hospital had moved to Beckenham and the St. Georges Field site was now the Imperial War Museum.
When dinner was finished, Polperro suggested they retire to the drawing room. He poured himself and Kate a drink as Jacob excused himself, leaving the pair alone. Kate wasted no time. She took out her phone and showed Polperro the photograph of her and Dan standing in front of Tower Bridge.
“Where did you come across the expression ‘binge drinking’?” she asked. “That’s not from 1882. Neither is this. Do you recognise the bridge?”
Polperro looked at the photograph and then regarded Kate for several seconds.
“Of course, I recognise it. That’s Tower Bridge. Though I must say mobile phones seem to have changed quite a bit.”
Polperro handed the phone back to Kate, who switched it off.
“I’m not from 1882,” said Polperro far more candidly than Kate was expecting, “and neither are you. Not only did I hear about your escapade on Battersea Bridge the other day, I also saw some of it. I recognised the uniform of course and later that morning I went to Walton Street Police Station to talk to the constables who detained you. Having a position of note at a hospital like Bedlam gives you certain advantages. I fell back here, much the same way you did I suspect, eighteen years ago in 1864.”
“Is there a way back?”
Polperro looked down at his brandy glass before replying, “I haven’t found one yet, but doors usually swing two ways. I have a very talented person working on a solution. Tell me, what happened?”
“I’m not sure exactly. I was in the tunnel at half past eleven on Saturday night, the next thing I know I’m here,” Kate watched as Polperro considered her answer.
“Do you know where you came through?”
“Yes, Jacob showed me. It was the West of London and Westminster Cemetery”
Out of Time: . (Steamside Chroncles Book 1) Page 16