D_Revenge Hits London

by Chris Turnbull

  ‘Just over three months you say,’ he whispered, still staring into my eyes as he caressed my belly. ‘Even if I had taken advantage that night, there is no proof it would be mine, your precious Albert is surely your only potential father? Why then would you find out you are expectant and think firstly of me before your husband, it does not make any sense? Unless, you do have feelings for me that you try to deny yourself; or is it your husband is not fulfilling his marital duties?’ He smirked as he said it, and I tried to push him away from me, horrified by what he was trying to imply.

  ‘My marital bedroom activities are none of your business.’

  ‘You protest quite strongly. To presume a man that is not your husband to be the father of your child is a serious allegation. So now tell me why I should believe any of your story?’

  ‘Because it is the truth.’ I felt the tears falling down my face, yet his expression towards my distress did not alter.

  ‘And Albert?’

  ‘I'm sorry?’ I choked.

  ‘Is he aware that you are questioning the child might not be his?’ I hung my head in shame, I had no proof that D even touched me in that way, how could I tell Albert something like that had crossed my mind. ‘I will take your silence as a resounding no. I am still on the fence however regarding your honesty about being pregnant.’

  ‘I speak the truth when I tell you I am.’ He returned his large cold hand to my stomach. His warm breath on my face made me feel uneasy and I couldn’t tell by his vacant expression if he believed me or not. He moved his hand from my belly and moved it around my body until it was cradling the base of my back, pulling me in towards him he rested his chin onto my shoulder, his cold cheek pressed up against my own. The awkwardness of how he held himself meant that it was a couple of second before I realised this was supposed to be some form of embrace. It lasted a little longer than necessary, and I was unsure whether pulling away would stir his anger again. As he held me he seemed much more relaxed, his grip on me was lighter and his panting was now a gentle breath. My own breath however mirrored my heartbeat, fast and nervous and wishing this torment to be over. D remained in the embrace but began lifting the pistol that was still in his hand, I watched as his arm rose towards my face and he rested the muzzle against the side of my head.

  ‘Tell me why I shouldn’t end us both, right now, together?’

  I could not speak as the cold pistol balanced against my temple. My breathing turned into more of a pant as I began to panic. I stuttered as I tried to find something to say, anything. ‘I am due to give birth in early November.’ Tears were again falling down my face, his own cheek dampened by them. He lowered the pistol and backed away a little, wiping my tears from his face. He began to stroke my stomach gently as though it was a cat. His obsession with touching my stomach was annoying me, and I wanted to shout at him to leave it alone. He lowered his hand without me speaking but continued staring at me, I could not tell what was going through his mind but I certainly felt as though I was being analysed.

  ‘Do you intend telling Albert?’ he said, his words surprising me after what seemed like the longest time in silence.

  ‘Tell Albert what exactly?’

  ‘That the child is mine of course?’

  ‘As you said, there is no guarantee it is certainly yours, but I wouldn’t tell him.’

  ‘He is probably dead by now anyway, so no matter. I had intended you to die this evening, but knowing you are with my child changes everything. We must leave immediately; go somewhere safe where we can raise our child together.’

  ‘Never.’ I pushed him back, but his strong frame barely moved in my efforts.

  ‘You will come with me, or die.’

  ‘I would rather die.’ I screamed in his face, surprising myself.

  I lashed out at him, kicking and punching him with all my remaining effort. He was clearly stronger than me, however the surprise attack caught him off-guard and I managed to kick the pistol out of his hand. The heavy pistol bounced back towards the base of the monument. He turned to retrieve it but I grabbed his arm and tried to stop him, hitting and kicking him as hard as I could. He gave up on the pistol and turned back to me, pushing me backwards I landed hard on the tiny wall.

  ‘Is this just a game to you? I bet you are not even pregnant. I bet this has all be a lie in order to spare your life. Well I’m sorry to say that Lucy and Albert are dead, and you will soon be joining them.’

  He leaned over me and placed both his hands around my throat. I began to gasp for air and tried with all my might to fight him off. He was too strong and I knew it. Exhausted and defeated I lay there chocking, struggling to push him back and wishing for the pain to end.

  Watching me struggle he smiled at my discomfort before leaning in and kissing me on the mouth; I was still gasping for air and could feel the oxygen leaving my lungs. In the corner of my eye I saw movement towards the monument; I could not tell who it was but saw them rushing down the stone steps onto the jetty and kneeling down to where the pistol had been. My vision was blurring and all I could hear was the river lapping up against the stone jetty beside me and the subtle muttering from D as he continued to grin in pleasure.

  A loud explosion echoed through my ears and D suddenly loosened his grip of my neck. I inhaled the air as quickly as I could and as my vision began to clear I saw that D was now the one gasping for air. I rubbed my hazed eyes and sat up on the stone wall, D was standing over me with his hand on his chest as he struggled to breathe. I was shocked to see Tom standing at the bottom of the stone steps gripping onto the pistol.

  I pushed D back so I had room to pass, he moved with surprising ease and he instead flopped onto the wall beside me faced down. His heavy panting the only indication he was still alive. It was then I could see the blood pouring from the bullet wound between his shoulder blades, the back of his long coat quickly darkening as the blood absorbed into the fabric. Detective Matthews appeared at the top of the steps and as I tried to stand I saw D beginning to slip over the side of the wall and into the racing Thames below. The Detective catapulted down the steps and tried to grab him before he was lost to the water. But he was too late, and the three of us watched as his motionless body swept away with the dark rushing tide.

  I began crying uncontrollably in the Detectives arms, I was thrilled to hear that Albert was going to be okay, but devastated about my sister. I wasn’t even sure if D was dead or simply injured. Detective Matthews left me with Tom at the monument whilst he got us a cab to take us to the hospital Albert was at.

  ‘Don’t cry,’ said Tom, placing his arms around me to reassure me, ‘you’re goin’ to be alright now.’ I hugged him back, squeezing him tight. He was such a good boy. ‘It’s over mother.’

  Epilogue

  Friday 16th November 1900

  Tom returned home from the Mews that day wet and full of cold. It had been a stormy day outside and winter was certainly back with force. Upon reaching Vincent Square, he saw a delivery boy cycle past him and stopped right outside his house. He managed to catch up and speak to the boy before he knocked on the door.

  ‘Oh, hello Tom. Sorry I didn’t see you there.’ The delivery boy handed over a single envelope and rode on through the rain. Inside the house was lovely and warm and Mrs Summers was in the sitting room.

  ‘Good evening Tom, you’re home early.’

  ‘Ay, we got em all done so were able to go a little earlier. There was a delivery boy at the door, this letter arrived for ya.’

  Tom handed over the letter and excused himself. He headed straight upstairs to change into some clean dry clothes. Victoria opened the letter.

  Dear Mrs Summers,

  Firstly let me congratulate you and your husband on the arrival of your son. You must be both very proud.

  I promised I would update you with any further investigations regarding D, and it is only now that I have any information that you may find interesting.

  As you know a body was never found after that night by
the Thames, however no murders fitting his trademark have been reported throughout the whole of England and nobody has reported to have seen him. Although I personally believe him to be dead we cannot close the case too early and so the nationwide search continues. The main reason for my letter is to tell you that we have managed to unearth details of his past.

  I have been working closely with Scotland Yard and managed to find somebody in London who recognised his picture, he was somebody they once worked with in London. The small amount of details this man gave were enough for us to open up our investigation, and after months of work we have been able to trace his history. We now know that he was abandoned at a workhouse in Brighton as a young boy, before being sent to London where he worked as an apprentice. Why, you may be asking yourself am I telling you all of this? Well we uncovered that his biological mother, who is now dead, moved up North (somewhere near Newcastle) shortly after abandoning him in order to flee those who she was indebted to. Whilst in the North, where she spent the remainder of her life, she again fell pregnant. Unfortunately she died in child birth and the new-born was sent to an orphanage by the coast. This young boy turns out to be your very own Tom. Which means that he is the biological half-brother of D. Personally I do not think telling Tom will achieve anything but heartache for the boy, but as his guardian I felt it my duty to inform you of our findings.

  The police patrol route through Vincent Square will remain a permanent feature of the local walk about thanks for Mr Sanders at Scotland Yard. I do however hope and pray that this nightmare is behind us all.

  I hope to see you return to Whitby sometime in the future for a more pleasant trip. It is a beautiful place in the summer months.

  Yours; Detective Matthews.

  Victoria sat and read the letter a second time, taking in every word the detective had put. She couldn’t quite believe what was written in front of her.

  ‘Ms Lowney says that dinner will be served in five minutes,’ Tom said, poking his head back through the door.

  ‘Thank you Tom, I will be through in a moment.’

  Victoria threw the letter into the fire. She then turned her attention to the large rocking crib that was perched under the window and watched her sleeping baby curled up warm in the blanket she had managed to make herself. Albert walked into the living room, she had heard him coming as his cane made a clinking noise with every step. She turned and kissed him, he had grown a short beard in the last two months and Victoria still found it odd when he kissed her.

  ‘Are you coming through for dinner?’ he asked her.

  ‘In a minute, I just want to feed him first.’ Albert kissed me on the cheek and gave a gentle stoke to the baby’s head. He then walked back out of the sitting room and Victoria watched his every step. The limp he now had and the cane he relied on was a painful reminder of the horrors they had been through, yet she couldn’t help but smile. Despite his leg injury she was just pleased to have him alive. Despite his injuries though his workload had increased, being elected Lord Mayor of London in September he was busier than ever.

  ‘Now then William Albert Summers, it is time for your feed. Wake up little one.’ She lifted out the two week old baby and cradled him in her arms. ‘You certainly look like Albert, there is no mistaking that nose.’ The End

  A Detective Matthews Story

  Crime novel set in Whitby

  Coming soon

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  BEHIND THE DARKNESS

  Writing a sequel Whitby’s Darkest Secret was always my intention. I can up with the general idea for Revenge Hits London quite early into writing the first. I knew though that to do it justice I couldn’t rush it out, and so gave myself a year gap between the two. Hopefully it was worth the wait.

  I wanted to bring the second installment to London for a couple of reasons. Firstly, it was the home of our heroin Victoria. Secondly as the first book was inspired by the book Dracula, and my first book saw us in the Dracula location of Whitby, I wanted to bring us to London where another large portion of Dracula is set.

  Like with all my books I enjoy researching into how life was in the time I am writing. I often learn things I never knew, and discover things I would never have considered in my wildest dreams.

  One of the big surprises for me was when I discovered a photograph of a carriage being pulled by zebra. Looking up photographs of times that are now over 100 years ago is fascinating.

  Writing scenes in London is a delight, as it is a city with so much history that I almost needed to be careful not to write a ‘Historical guide of London.’ Although many of the buildings are still there from 1900, there is also many that are not.

  The Union Club at Trafalgar Square, although this building is still there, the name has since been changed and is currently known as Canada House.

  Also, the three pubs on the junction (one of which Lucy is a regular visitor) are in fact real places that existed in 1900, but sadly no longer stand.

  The Victorian city of London was a city of startling contrasts. New building and affluent development went hand in hand with horribly overcrowded slums where people lived in the worst conditions imaginable. The population surged during the 19th century, from about 1 million in 1800 to over 6 million a century later. This growth far exceeded London's ability to look after the basic needs of its citizens.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Chris Turnbull was born in Bradford, West Yorkshire, before moving to Leeds with his family. Growing up with a younger brother, Chris was always surrounded by pets, from dogs, cats, rabbits and birds…the list goes on.

  In 2012 Chris married with his long term partner, since then Chris has relocated to the outskirts of York where he and his partner bought and renovated their first home together.

  Chris now enjoys his full time employment at the University of York and spends his free time writing, walking his Jack Russell, Olly, and travelling as much as possible.

  For more information about Chris and any future releases you can visit:

  www.chris-turnbullauthor.com

  facebook.com/christurnbullauthor

  Twitter: @ChrisTurnbull20

  Instagram.com/chris.turnbull20

  Acknowledgements

  I would firstly like to thank my long suffering husband, who as always reads book so many times during the editing process.

  Secondly I would like to thank Joseph Hunt for doing such a brilliant job at the three D covers, and for making the insides look pretty too.

  I would also like to thank Dawn and Pete from Follow This Publishing, without your continued support I would never have published in the first place, and I truly thank you for all you have done and will continue to do.

  Lastly I would like to thank everybody who has read my books – your reviews on Amazon and Goodreads are very much appreciated, and seeing them all and the love you have shown towards me and my books is overwhelming. For that reason you encourage me to keep writing, and publishing.

  Thank You!

  THE PREQUEL

  In 2016 I published a short prequel to Whitby’s Darkest Secret on Kindle & Paperback, as a thank you to the fans for their support as well as a little gift for them having to wait a whole 2 years for the sequel.

  D: Darkest beginnings

  What makes a young boy turn to the darkness?

  What turns an honest man into a monster?

  In this prequel to Whitby's Darkest Secret, journey back and learn about the life of the boy, who grew up to become known simply as 'D'

  Buy Now:

  AMAZON UK: https://goo.gl/lmV7Qg

  AMAZON US: https://goo.gl/nfML4O

  Recommended By Chris

  The crowman

  by katie john

  Grace Waters lost a baby and now stands amidst the ruins of her marriage. Trapped within the loneliness of grief, her perfect and beautiful life as a GP’s wife begins to quickly unravel aroun
d her. With her husband increasingly concerned about her state of mind, she begins to doubt her own sanity – especially when she begins to see the terrifying figure of The Crow Man.

  Referred to psychiatrist, Doctor Daniel Rose, Grace dares to hope for healing and recovery, but what she finds is an unending nightmare in which those pretending to be the voice of reason are the most dangerously insane of them all.

  A terrifying Frankenstein of the psychological age. An exploration into the dark recesses of the human mind and the terrifying psychological experimentations of the 1950s.

  For more info visit the official website at

  www.katiemjohn.com

  facebook.com/KatieMJohn

  Buy Now:

  AMAZON UK: https://goo.gl/F6gew1

  AMAZON US: https://goo.gl/nnFQgU