"I promise. Something like it happened to me. I was in the hospital. Somebody was there for me. Pulled me through. You'll do the same for Joe. I know you will."
Fiona nodded. Sid saw that she looked very tired. He moved over in the big bed, and patted the pillow. Fiona took off her boots and rested next to him, curling her feet underneath her. The bed creaked as she settled.
"Watch out, the bed's going to break!" Seamie teased.
"Very funny," Fiona said, scowling.
"How is the baby?" Sid asked.
"Kicking up a storm," she said, then she winced.
"You all right?"
She nodded. "Thumped me good, just then."
"I've been thumped from the outside often enough," he said. "But I can't imagine what it feels like from the inside."
Fiona took his hand and placed it on her belly. He felt nothing for a few seconds, then his hand jumped as the baby gave a hard, sharp kick.
"Blimey!" he said. "He's not half strong. Going to be a rugby player with legs like those."
"Hey, look at this!" Seamie suddenly exclaimed.
"Is it something about Charlie?" Fiona asked.
"No, about me," Seamie said. "Well, sort of. It's about the Antarctica expedition. They've just received a donation of ten thousand pounds from Prince Edward. Listen to this..."
Sid smiled as he listened to his brother read, watching his face grow animated, hearing the excitement in his voice. He knew he was due to leave for Greenland in a week's time and he was happy for him. Happy that he had a shot at making his dream come true. He knew Fiona wasn't, however. Seamie had told him about the row they'd had over his decision to leave school. He knew Seamie had been so angry at their sister that he'd left her house and had gone to stay with friends. He'd go to Antartica, though, whether Fiona liked it or not. Nothing could stop him. Sid could see that.
He had loved getting to know him again in these past few days. And Fiona. This was all he would ever have of them. These precious hours. They were together now, but would soon be separated again. Forever. Fiona would stay here. Seamie would go exploring, but return home between trips. And he himself? He was never coming back.
When Seamie finished reading, Fiona said, "I don't know why you have to go so far away. To such a dangerous place."
"Oh, he was bound to go exploring, Fee," Sid said. "He could never stay still. Don't you remember? He was always wandering off. Eager to see what was round the next bend. Do you remember the time we went to the riverside? The three of us? After Da died. To the Old Stairs by Oliver's to watch the boats. You and I sat on the steps. Seamie played by the water. I told him to stay put, but he wouldn't. Turned my back on him for a second and he was halfway to Limehouse. You won't keep him in one place."
"Or you either," she said.
"I can't stay, Fee. You know that."
"Why not? You don't have to go. When Joe wakes up, he'll tell the police it wasn't you who shot him," Fiona said.
"Aye, he will. But Gemma Dean won't. Because she isn't going to wake up. Ever. I have to leave the country. It's my only chance. I'm not going back to prison."
"But how? How can you leave? You can't step outside the door for fear of being arrested."
Seamie, still combing through the newspapers, said, "Here we go... listen to this! �Murder suspect disappears after shootout.' " He read the rest of the article aloud. The reporter had interviewed Alvin Donaldson, who'd told him he was certain Sid Malone had been wounded in the Richmond ambush that he--Donaldson--had set for him.
"I pulled the trigger myself," Donaldson said. "And I know it found
its mark. In addition, Malone was injured from a fall he'd taken dur-
ing the escape. That, combined with the fact that there is no sanctu-
ary for him in all of London, leads me to believe that he may have
died and that it will be only a matter of time before the body is found
in some foul lodging house or riverside den. We will not stop hunting
for Malone until we do find him. Dead or alive."
"And this... this is from Lytton," Seamie continued.
"We hope to take Malone alive, but if we find him dead, then at least
Joseph Bristow will know--and in heaven Gemma Dean will
know--that justice has been served. Not the justice of England's
courts, but the final justice meted out by our Creator."
"Looks like Freddie's already begun his campaign," Fiona said bitterly.
"Do you see what I mean, Fee?" Sid said. "They won't stop until they have me. Or my dead body."
Seamie was quiet for a few seconds, then he said, "Let's give it to them then."
"Give them what?" Fiona said.
"Sid Malone's dead body."
"Steady on, mate," Sid said.
"I'm serious. We could do it. If they got a body, if they thought you were dead, it would make it a lot easier for you to get out of London."
"Fine, Seamie. But how?"
"You have to ask me? You did it back in 'eighty-nine. If it worked then, it'll work now."
"You're saying I should kill someone who looks like me, throw him in the Thames, and hope the body gets found? That's a great idea. Then I'll be wanted for another murder. One I did commit."
"No, I'm saying throw someone in who's already dead."
"This is madness!" Fiona said angrily. "What are you doing to do? Rob a grave? And even if you did get a body, the police won't fall for the same trick twice."
"But the last time he did it was twelve years ago," Seamie said. "No one will ever make the connection. The police fish bodies out of the river all the time."
"It's wrong. And it's dangerous," Fiona said.
"But it might just work."
"For God's sake, Seamie, this isn't some Boys' Own adventure story!"
"Listen, Fee, just listen, will you? If a body washes up with something of Sid's on it, the police won't have a reason to search anymore. He can leave. Head to the Continent, America, wherever. He'll be free. The only hard part is getting a body."
"Maybe not so hard," Sid said. "A friend...a doctor friend... told me where they're kept at a medical school. I've seen the place. It'd be a doddle to break in and take one."
"What a wonderful idea, Charlie!" Fiona said. "Then you can add body-snatcher to your list of accomplishments. And maybe you can get Seamie arrested into the bargain."
She was worried, fearful, close to tears. He didn't want to upset her any further.
"You're right, Fee, it's a daft idea," he said. "We won't do any such thing. I'll sit tight here for as long as I need to. Until it's safe."
Fiona expressed her relief. Sid told her she looked tired, and that she should go to bed and get some rest. "For Joe," he said. "And Katie and the baby."
She nodded, kissed both of her brothers, and left.
As soon as the door closed, Seamie turned to him. "When?" he said.
"Tomorrow night."
Chapter 72
"Katie has four more teeth and she's talking a blue streak. She misses you terribly and wants you to come home. I told her you would do. Soon. Very, very soon. She sent you this." Fiona paused and pulled a small plush rabbit out of her bag. "It's Walter. Remember him? Your mother gave it to her last Easter. It's her favorite toy. She asked me to bring it to you in case you get lonely." Fiona's voice caught. She squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds, fighting tears, then placed the rabbit on Joe's pillow. "And she told me to tell you that she loves you very much." She smoothed Joe's hair, straightened his pajama top, and brushed some imaginary dust off the hospital bed. She took his hand in hers, kissed it, and pressed it to her cheek. "Wake up, love. Please wake up," she said.
There was a knock on the door and then a young woman was standing in the room. "Mrs. Bristow?" she said. "I'm sorry to intrude. Am I disturbing you?"
Fiona smiled at her. "No, not at all, Dr. Jones. Come in, won't you?"
"I stop by as often as I can to visi
t your husband. I was here once while you were. But I don't think... well, I don't think you were in any condition then to recognize me."
"I doubt I was."
"How are you doing now? How's the baby?"
"The baby's very well, I think. Very busy doing whatever it is babies do before they're born."
"And you, Mrs. Bristow?"
"Not so well, I'm afraid."
India took a seat in a chair on the other side of Joe's bed. "He's in wonderful hands, you know. Dr. Harris is extraordinary."
"Yes, he is," Fiona said.
India held Joe's wrist and took his pulse. "Has he responded at all?" she asked.
Fiona shook her head. "I try to get him to. I talk to him all the time. I believe he can hear me. Perhaps it's mad, but I feel it."
"It's not mad at all. Many coma patients wake up able to repeat things that were said to them while they were unconscious. Keep talking to him,"
India said. She raised Joe's eyelids and examined his eyes. She gently pinched the fiesh of his palms, the soles of his feet.
"How is the clinic progressing, Dr. Jones?" Fiona asked. "I meant to visit it, but it will be a while before I'm able to now."
"It's coming along very well and will be open in another week's time. Dr. Hatcher, as you may know, will head our children's ward. Ella Moskowitz will be our matron. And a teacher of mine from the London School of Medicine for Women, Professor Fenwick, will be our chief administrator."
"And you? What is your role there?"
"I'm afraid I haven't one. Not anymore."
"Why not?" Fiona asked, perplexed.
"I'm leaving London."
"I'm so sorry to hear that. May I ask why?"
India hesitated, then said, "A person, someone dear to me, is in difficulties right now. He needs my help, and so I'm going to be away for a while."
"But you'll be coming back."
"I'm not sure."
"That must be hard for you. I know how committed you were to that clinic."
"It is very hard."
Fiona could see the pain in India's eyes. She tried to lighten the tone a little, to make her smile. "This person ...he's not your brother by any chance, is he? I have two of them. And they're always in difficulties."
India laughed. "No. I have no brothers. Only a sister."
"Count yourself lucky, then."
As India turned back to Joe, Fiona thought that she might joke about her brothers, but she was actually very worried about one of them. Charlie's fever was down, but he was still weak. She hadn't summoned her family doctor, Dr. Fraser, because it was too risky. If he recognized Charlie, he might go to the police. But Dr. Jones was different. Fiona felt instinctively that she could trust her. Perhaps she would help her. Perhaps she would look at Charlie.
"Dr. Jones, could I ask you something?"
"Yes, anything, Mrs. Bristow. Anything at all."
"Could you..."
It was asking too much. Involving her with a fugitive would be dangerous and wrong, and no way to repay the good woman who'd saved her husband's life.
"Could you continue to visit my husband? For as long as you're here? You've brought him this far. Maybe you can pull him out of this."
"Of course I will. I'll do everything I can for him. Listen, why don't you go and get yourself a cup of tea while I'm here? And something to eat? It might be good for you to take a short walk. Good for the baby. I'll talk to Mr. Bristow while you're gone."
"Thank you, Dr. Jones, I will. And thank you for everything you've done for us. For saving my husband's life." She reached for India's hand and held it for a few seconds, then let go, surprised at the sadness she felt. She might see her again at Joe's bedside before she left, but she might not. She thought of how remarkable she was, how good and strong and kind, and she realized she would have liked to have known her better.
On her way out of the hospital, to a small tuck shop she'd seen on the way in, Fiona thought of what she'd almost done, and was relieved she hadn't gone through with it. Charlie would have been furious at her for bringing a stranger to see him. And she could only imagine Dr. Jones's dismay at aiding a man wanted for murder.
As she ordered herself some tea, she commended herself on finally learning restraint, on acting from the head instead of the heart.
"And not before time," she told herself. "But better late than never. For once, Fiona, you've done the right thing."
Chapter 73
Sid's sixth sense told him that someone was watching him.
That wasn't good. Now was not the moment to attract attention. He raised his arms, as if stretching, and turned his head slightly, relieved to find that it was only a barmaid and that her eyes were on his empty pint glass, not his face. He signaled for another drink, knowing that's what a working man in a boozer at midday would do. He paid her when she brought it, and thanked her, but she was so busy she barely glanced at him. He pulled his cap low over his brow and continued to gaze out of the pub's window. Just another bloke grabbing a dinnertime pint.
The pub was directly across the street from the Albion Bank. The street was crowded with traffic, the pavements were full of clerks and typists bustling about during their dinner hour. Sid's eyes darted back and forth between the people, looking for Seamie. He'd certainly made him easy to spot, dressing him in a mustard tweed jacket. The lad would stand out like a whore in a nunnery in this sea of black skirts and frock coats.
Sid's eyes darted to the clock over the bank's doors. It was almost twelve thirty. Seamie was due to be on the steps of the bank at exactly half noon and out by a quarter to one. If things went right, Sid would shortly be in the possession of a great deal of money. And if they didn't, he'd probably be in jail.
He hadn't seen Seamie for more than an hour. Where the hell was he?
Sid took a sip of porter to calm his jangling nerves. The last twenty-four hours had been tense. As soon as Fiona left the house for the hospital yesterday morning, Seamie left it, too. He went to the London School of Medicine for Women and walked all around it, noting the placement of doors and windows and trees and the height of its back wall. Then he walked the nearby streets, looking for a carter's establishment or a rag-and-bone man. Lastly he went shopping--buying a bottle of hair dye, work clothes, gloves, a pistol and bullets, rope, canvas, candles and matches, an awl, and a packet of hairpins. He returned home ahead of Fiona and hid his purchases under Sid's bed, and then they'd waited. All day long and into the night. Until Fiona had returned home and they'd all eaten supper together in Sid's room. Until nearly midnight, when the entire household was finally asleep. Then they sneaked out and headed for the London School of Medicine for Women.
Seamie had rented a horse and cart earlier in the day from a rag-and-bone man whose yard was two streets away from the school, paying him double what he'd demanded in order to keep him from asking too many questions. It was waiting for them inside the man's stables, hitched and ready, when they arrived.
The school and its yards were enclosed by walls on three sides. They drove the cart all the way around the back to where Seamie had seen a large oak tree. They climbed the tree and dropped down inside the courtyard. Then they found a basement door with a rickety deadbolt, which Sid had open in no time.
He shuddered now as he recalled what had happened next. Taking care to keep themselves concealed, they'd crept about in the deserted building until they'd found the mortuary. It had been dark in there, close, and chock-a-block with rotting corpses. They'd sorted through them by candlelight to find a red-haired one. Sid thought he'd struck it lucky when the second body he looked at had auburn hair, but when Seamie pointed out that it also had breasts, they'd had to start again. They'd finally found a redheaded man. He was heavier than Sid and his hair was more carroty than auburn, but they couldn't find a closer match, so they took him, bundling him up in a length of canvas, then hoisting him over the wall and into the cart.
It had been a long ride to Limehouse. Seamie had wanted to throw
him off Tower Bridge, he smelled so bad, but Sid had insisted on a more private venue--a landing a few yards past the Grapes, a pub he'd been known to frequent.
"Sorry, lad," he'd said as they drew up to the landing. "Here comes the hard part."
He'd tied a kingsman around his nose and mouth and unwrapped the body. Then he took the pistol Seamie had bought for him earlier and fired a bullet into the corpse's left shoulder. It passed through the fiesh. The bullet that Donaldson had fired at him hadn't done so, but the rozzers wouldn't know that. Then he took the bloodstained clothes he'd worn to Arden Street, clothes he'd had the foresight to save, and put them on the corpse. Seamie tried to help, but couldn't. He was too busy retching. When Sid had finished dressing the body, he put his wallet, which was monogrammed, into the corpse's trousers and put a gold watch inscribed with his name into its jacket pocket, taking care to button it.
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