‘It’s not too late to change your mind.’
The sergeant smiled and shook his head. ‘That’s very kind of you, sir, but I’m going. No fuss, though. Walk out of here and that’s it.’
‘It’s your decision. But you’ll have a job with us when it’s all over.’
‘I don’t think it will be as soon as most people imagine,’ Fowler said.
‘Maybe not,’ Harper told him, ‘but the offer will always be there.’
Reed walked home slowly from the meeting. It had been an uncomfortable affair, sitting down with Mrs Lyth and Miss Tebbit from the Catholic group that brought the Leeds Workhouse girls to live in Whitby. He’d explained about the fires, that he’d seen young Charlotte Bush running off from one she’d just set. They knew about her past, her troubles at the workhouse, the things she’d done.
Then, finally, the sisters had come in together, sitting primly and quietly on the hard wooden chairs.
‘Did you set the fires, Charlotte?’ Mrs Lyth asked. The girl nodded, looking down at the floor. ‘But why?’
‘She missed me.’ It was Catherine who spoke. ‘She felt left out. She had no one to play with. The other girls don’t like her.’
As simple as that, or perhaps as complicated. He didn’t know.
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to go back to Leeds,’ Miss Tebbit told her. ‘We can’t keep anyone here who does things like that.’
A silence hung in the room.
‘Please miss,’ Catherine said finally, ‘I’ll go back with her. She’s my sister. She needs someone to look after her.’
‘But you’re doing well here,’ Mrs Lyth said.
The girl had already made up her mind. ‘Charlotte needs me.’
Now he had to tell Elizabeth. She’d be upset. But nothing was going to change Catherine’s decision. He sat and watched the sisters leave the room, hand in hand. The girl loved Whitby, but she’d give that all up in a moment for Charlotte. More than he and Charlie had ever managed for each other. Another weight of guilt to sit like lead in his heart.
Everything was arranged. On Friday, Miss Tebbit would take the girls back to Leeds Workhouse. He’d travel with them, escort and guard.
A key in the lock and he was inside the small house on Silver Street. Elizabeth bustled through from the kitchen.
‘What happened, Billy love? What did they say?’
He folded her in his arms. Sometimes, simply doing his job was the hardest thing in the world.
Harper unlocked his desk and took out the folder. Pain filled his chest. Why? He’d hardly done a thing, he hadn’t strained himself. Just two easy moves to put John Smith on the floor. He sat for two minutes until it became a dull ache, a background, then waved Ash into his office.
The inspector closed the door and sat down.
‘The chief knows what we’ve been doing.’
‘I—’
‘He has a couple of pet clerks in the Town Hall. He wanted me to be aware, that’s all.’ Harper drummed his fingers on the file. ‘We didn’t manage to find the connection.’
‘No,’ Ash agreed, ‘and barring a miracle, we’re never going to find it, sir. John Smith will still be silent when they put the noose on him.’
‘Is he mad, do you think?’
Ash shrugged. ‘Probably. Cunning, yes. Definitely not right in the head.’
‘Tell me honestly: do you believe May and Howe were the ones behind the Smiths?’
A long pause. Ash’s moustache twitched. ‘Yes, sir, I do. We’ve looked and looked and there’s no one else likely. If we could just get past that lawyer, we’d know for certain.’
‘You’ve seen it for yourself. That won’t ever happen. They don’t even feel guilty.’
‘It’s them, sir, and they’re laughing their socks off because we’ll never be able to prove it.’
Harper sighed. ‘I just needed to hear someone else say it. Go home, spend some time with Nancy. She must have forgotten what you look like.’
‘Only if she’s lucky, sir. Shall I tell the others?’
‘Yes. We all deserve an early night. You know, I was beginning to wonder if we’d ever catch them.’
‘All done now, sir.’
No, he thought as he heard the men leave, it wasn’t all done yet. He took a piece of paper, dipped his nib in the ink and began to write.
The clouds had been looming all afternoon, growing off to the west and moving slowly towards Leeds. As he stepped down from the tram in Sheepscar, thunder boomed across the sky. He hurried across the road, ducking through the door of the Victoria as the first raindrops fell.
By the time he’d climbed the stairs it was tipping down, bouncing loudly off the roof and the windows. Annabelle had a mug of tea cupped in her hands as she stared out at the downpour. A jumble of papers lay on the table where she’d been writing. He came up behind her, putting his arms around her waist.
‘I suppose we need the rain.’ Her voice was dull. Today she’d had a meeting with the Temperance man from the Board of Guardians.
‘How was it?’ he asked, although he sensed what her answer would be. ‘What did he have to say to your ideas?’
She didn’t move, face staring at the heavy rivulets of water pouring down the glass. Another roll of thunder boomed and a crack of lightning tore the sky open.
‘Nothing,’ she answered. ‘Told me straight off the bat that he wouldn’t have anything to do with a woman whose money came from men drinking themselves poor.’
‘I’m sorry.’ What more could he say?
‘Now it all depends on the meeting tomorrow. I’ve spent the afternoon trying to write my speech.’ She was silent for a long moment. ‘We’re elected to help people. That’s all I’m trying to do, to stop another Annie and Ada dying. And these men are all playing silly beggars, just because a woman suggests something. And tomorrow I have to try and convince the lot of them.’
‘It’s wrong.’
‘Yes.’ She nodded and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘Do you know what that man called me today? Hysterical. I came this close to lamping him one and proving him right. It’s like a weight pressing down. I’m sick of it.’
He held her close and put his lips against her ear.
‘Don’t give up,’ he whispered.
‘Don’t you worry,’ she said. ‘I’ll be coming out fighting tomorrow.’
The chop house on Boar Lane was busy, men dining with colleagues or friends, lingering over luncheon with a glass of brandy. Harper sat by the window, gazing down at the street. The storm had passed, leaving Leeds washed clean. Even the pall of smoke had vanished for a few hours, letting the sunlight pour through, leaving the air clean and fresh for once.
He sat back, one elbow resting on the folder, extending a hand as a man sat down across from him.
‘I’m glad you could come, Mr Russell.’
‘I’m never going to turn down an invitation from a police superintendent.’ He was in his late twenties, with a cocky, appealing grin, wild red hair and a thin moustache. For the last five years he’d been a reporter on the Leeds Mercury, covering the police beat. A Liverpool accent still rang through when he spoke. ‘Especially after a big case.’
‘I’m going to disappoint you, then. All this is off the record.’
Russell’s face fell a little, then brightened. ‘As long as you’re paying, Mr Harper.’
‘One way or another, coppers always do.’
‘It’s awful news about McRae. But I’m told Pickford’s going to recover.’
‘In time. Quite a few months.’
‘What did you make of John Smith, Superintendent? I only saw him in court.’
Harper gave him a soft smile. ‘I’m not here to talk about that.’
‘Oh?’
The waiter brought their plates.
‘Eat. Enjoy it, knowing you don’t have to put your hand in your pocket for the meal.’
Russell laughed. ‘You don’t have to tell me twice.’
‘What do you think of our esteemed local councillors?’
‘A professional opinion, or an honest one?’
‘I’ll leave that up to you.’
‘Venal, corrupt, and they all think they’re untouchable.’ A quick smile. ‘That’s the professional speaking.’
‘Which ones are the worst, would you say?’
‘May and Howe.’ He didn’t hesitate. ‘If you don’t already know that, Superintendent, you shouldn’t be doing your job.’
‘What do you know about the case with the Smiths?’
‘I thought we weren’t going to discuss that.’
‘Humour me,’ Harper told him.
‘What your lot have told us, and a bit of digging on my own. They owned plenty of properties through a company.’
‘Which was owned by another company. We can’t discover who has that. The attorney is standing on his legal rights and refusing to tell us.’
‘Go on.’
Harper knew he had the reporter’s full attention.
‘Someone put up the capital for the Smiths to buy all those places. Several thousand pounds. Every one of them was close to where applications had gone in to build new houses. Each of those applications was approved.’
‘And this is where I put two and two together and remember which two councillors happen to be on the planning committee.’
‘That’s completely up to you, Mr Russell.’ He took out his pocket watch, signalled for the waiter and paid the bill. ‘I need to go. I hope you’ve enjoyed the free meal.’
‘Nothing’s ever free, is it? Don’t forget your file.’
‘What file is that? I never had one. Good day to you.’
The following day Harper picked up the telephone as it rang, the bell loud and jangling.
‘You might want to be outside the Town Hall at four.’ The line went dead. It didn’t matter. The Liverpool accent was unmistakable.
The journalist was waiting near the Town Hall steps. Harper stood twenty yards way, leaning against a lamp post. The haze had returned overnight; all the soot and stink made Leeds feel curiously normal again.
His thoughts drifted. They’d seen Fowler off the evening before, a few quiet drinks at the Victoria. Millgarth would be different without him. At least Sissons seemed like a fine replacement.
Harper straightened, a twinge of pain from his ribs, as the council members came out from their meeting and down the steps and into the crowd. May was chattering away to Howe, not even noticing the red-haired reporter until he was in front of them.
He was too far away to hear, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t need to know the words. He saw the fury on May’s face as it grew darker and darker, and the way Howe stared in horror was enough. Russell had done his homework.
As the councillors tried to walk, the reporter dogged them. More questions and no answers, until May lifted his stick and swatted at Russell. The blow missed, and the men climbed into Howe’s coach and drove off.
Harper strolled over to the reporter. ‘I hope you have a good article ready.’
‘In tomorrow morning’s paper.’ He was grinning with joy. ‘It’ll be enough to make them resign and face an inquiry, I can guarantee you that.’
‘My heart bleeds for them.’
‘One other thing that might interest you, Superintendent. Lawyers’ clerks like bribes. I discovered who’s the real owner of those properties.’
‘Who?’ Harper asked.
Russell laughed. ‘You’ll have to buy the Mercury in the morning to find out.’
The train pulled into the station with a thick hiss of steam. Reed pulled down the suitcase from the overhead rack. It felt too light to hold the contents of two lives. Miss Tebbit shepherded Catherine and Charlotte Bush through the concourse and out to a hackney.
They hadn’t spoken on the journey. What could any of them have said? He watched the streets pass, knowing every one of them by name, still able to feel the flagstones under his boots. At the entrance to the workhouse, Miss Tebbit smiled at him.
‘Thank you for the escort, Inspector.’
The girls hadn’t lifted their heads. As they began to walk away, he said: ‘Catherine, I have something for you.’ She looked up, curious as he took a small envelope from his jacket. ‘Mrs Reed wants you to have it. Your wages. A full week.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ She gave a small curtsey and turned away.
Much good it would do her in a place like this.
He walked back towards town. He could go over to Armley, stand by the cell and look John Smith in the eye. He could try to understand the man responsible for Charlie and Hester’s death. Then he could go and beg a bed at the Victoria with Tom and Annabelle.
But what was the point? None of it would change anything. Maybe it was time to let it pass. Every last link with Leeds had been severed with his brother’s death. He was the only one still holding on. Perhaps it was time for a clean break, to let go of all the guilt and the sadness. There was a train going back to Whitby in an hour. He could be home tonight, in his own bed with Elizabeth beside him.
THIRTY
Tom Harper was sitting and reading the newspaper and smiling with satisfaction when he heard her footsteps on the stair. She’d had the board meeting today, putting her proposals to change everything. He stood as she came in.
Annabelle unpinned her hat and tossed it on to the table. Her face was like iron.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I fought for all I was worth but I couldn’t convince them. They voted down every idea.’ She began to pace around the room, then stopped and stared at him. ‘Every single one. Tom. It’s as if the deaths of those two little girls had been for nothing at all.’
‘You’re not giving up, are you?’ Harper asked. He knew that look on her face. She was determined not to cry, not to show the pain of defeat.
She took a breath. ‘Don’t be so daft. I lost this time. There’ll be others I’ll win. I’ll make absolutely sure of it, Tom.’
She needed a change of scene, he knew that. She’d been subdued for a week, ever since the meeting. And Harper craved a day away from Leeds, somewhere that wasn’t all sooty red brick. Somewhere he could breathe clean air.
A little after nine on Sunday morning, he helped her into the railway carriage, then waited as Mary jumped up the steps. A blast of the whistle and they were on their way.
‘What’s in Ilkley, Da?’ Mary asked. ‘I’ve never heard of it.’
‘You’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?’
She kept her face close to the window, staring out at the fields as they passed along Wharfedale. Stops at Burley and Otley and other small stations, then the engine gathered steam for the run, juddering over the points.
‘Ilkley!’ the guard yelled. ‘All out for Ilkley!’
Only a few of them left the train. Mary stared around, curious about everything. And outside the station, an old man waited on his farm cart, a sway-backed brown horse munching slowly from its nose bag.
‘How much up to the rocks?’ Harper asked.
The man looked, calculating his wealth from his clothes. ‘Threepence’ll take you both ways,’ he said.
Better than walking, he decided when they climbed down. It was a long, steep slope up from the town.
‘I’ll be back here in three hours,’ the carter promised and pointed towards a small wooden shack. ‘Cafe in there if you’re hungry.’
The heather was at its best, brilliant purple and shimmering green on the hillsides. Mary scampered ahead, running along the tracks that generations of feet had made. Annabelle kept tight hold of his arm, button boots slipping once or twice on the pebbles.
‘How are your ribs today? Up to this?’
‘Mending.’ Each day the ache faded a little. It would still be a while before he was back to full fitness, but things were improving. He could walk more easily. St
ill careful, though. One slip and he’d be back where he started. Just like life.
At least he had his satisfaction. Russell hadn’t let him down. The story had covered three pages in the Mercury, the follow-ups still running days later. A dramatic headline, and the story underneath giving everything, showing May and Howe’s corruption in minute detail. By evening the councillors had resigned. Russell had even named them as the men who owned the North Leeds Company, the ones behind the Smiths, and he’d challenged them to disprove it. So far, neither the councillors nor Dryden the lawyer had responded. But all the records of the North Leeds Company had been subpoenaed and charges were being prepared. The prison doors were already opening for them.
Justice. In the end, though, it gave him little satisfaction. He hadn’t managed to do it himself. That would always rankle. But perhaps it was a lesson; sometimes you needed to rely on others to make things happen. May and Howe would pay. Time to let it go.
‘What are all those big stones?’ Mary took the thoughts from his head as she dashed back. ‘Why are they like that?’
‘They’re called the Cow and Calf Rocks. You see them there, the large one and the little one?’ Harper pointed them out to her. ‘They say that long ago they used to be joined together, but a giant was running along here—’
‘Giant?’ Her eyes widened, and he was grateful she wasn’t too grown-up for stories.
‘Yes. Some people claim his wife was chasing him. When he stamped his foot down, he split the calf from the cow.’
‘Can we go up there, Da? Up on the top?’
‘As long as you’re careful.’
She ran a few paces and stopped. ‘Why was his wife chasing him?’
‘He’d probably been cheeky.’
They followed the path as it wound through the heather. Harper stood, Annabelle beside him, looking down at the town in the valley. The sun was soft and pleasant on his skin, a few fluffy clouds in the sky, and the air smelled fresh. No smoke, no smuts.
‘Like looking down on the world, isn’t it?’ Annabelle said.
‘On a bit of it, at least.’
‘Do you know what it makes me think? How small we are.’
The Leaden Heart Page 25
