Murder

by Sarah Pinborough

  16

  Lloyds Weekly Newspaper April 10, 1896

  THE READING BABY FARM

  * * *

  SIX BODIES IN THE THAMES

  * * *

  STARTLING REVELATIONS YESTERDAY

  Within the last few days the bodies of five babies have been found in the Thames at Reading, and the discovery of a sixth dead infant yesterday has caused such a sensation as the district has not known for many years. Last week the body of a child about 18 months old was found, and the evidence went to show that the infant had been strangled – a piece of tape being tied round its neck – and then wrapped in some material. A verdict of “Wilful murder against some person or persons” was returned at the inquest. Last Wednesday a second body was discovered, the police having engaged men to drag the river, believing other children had been similarly disposed of. At the inquest held on Friday morning the jury returned an open verdict, the doctor being unable to say what was the cause of death, the body being so decomposed. A third body was brought to land the same day. In each case a piece of tape was found tightly tied round the neck, and death was evidently due to strangulation. The bodies were enveloped in linen and other materials; a brick was placed in each parcel. On Friday night, when dragging the Clappers Pool, the police hitched on a carpet bag, which was proved to contain the bodies of a girl and an exceptionally pretty boy. Two bricks were also placed in the bag. Yesterday information was given to the Reading Borough coroner that a sixth child had been found in the river Kennet, in Reading, which had every appearance of having been killed in the same manner as the five infants already mentioned.

  Two arrests have been made. A woman named Mrs. Annie Dyer went to live at Caversham a few weeks ago, and in her lodgings was found tape, &c., corresponding with that found on one child and in the parcel, while a piece of paper, with an address, found with the body, referred to the woman’s address.

  The Times of London

  Wednesday, June 9, 1897

  INQUESTS

  Yesterday evening at the Coroner’s-court, Mortlake, Mr A. Braxton Hicks held an inquest on the body of a male child, of unknown parentage, which was found enclosed in a box in the Thames on the 2nd inst. George Spansfield, a labourer working on a coal wharf at the Queen’s Head, Mortlake, said the tide was ebbing when he found the box on the foreshore. It was not there on the previous day. The box was produced by Sergeant Oliver, the summoning officer, and the coroner said it was evidently made for the purpose to which it had been devoted. Dr. James Adams, the divisional surgeon, who was called to examine the body, said it was that of a well-developed child. Curiously enough, a post-mortem examination had already been made, and all organs had been examined, no doubt by a fully-qualified medical man. The child had certainly been dead two months, but he was unable to say that it had unquestionably lived. He was unable to ascribe death to any particular cause …

  … The coroner said it was one of the most extraordinary cases he had ever investigated. All the London coroners had been asked whether they had held an inquest on a child during the past two months whose burial might not have been accounted for and he could only think that some midwife or undertaker had disposed of the body in this way. It was a scandalous state of affairs.

  17

  London. June, 1897

  Dr Bond

  ‘But it’s so awful,’ Juliana said, fanning herself and squinting slightly in the bright sunshine. ‘Who would do that to their child?’

  ‘Funerals cost money,’ Charles said. ‘Something the poor, by their very nature, have very little of.’

  ‘But to put the little thing in the river where you could not even visit the grave? That’s so heartless.’

  ‘You can never understand what is going on in others’ hearts, my dear. It is often better not to wonder on it.’

  It was a warm day, and the air was thickening, the damp from the nearby river weighing it down and making me itch under my shirt collar. Tiny flies hovered just over our heads, a portent of the rainclouds that would likely gather later in the day, and every minute or so, they would drop and buzz around my head, enjoying my muttered irritation, before darting just beyond reach of my swatting hand.

  Hebbert had no idea of the irony of his words. I watched him as he poured more lemonade from the jug. In my daily life I had done my best to purge suspicion from my mind, but it reigned in my dreams where the past came to haunt me. Last night I had nightmares of the two of us in his study, and an awful look of despair that filled his eyes as he spoke of terrible dreams of his own and the wickedness in the city. In the version with which my subconscious chose to fill my sleeping hours, the terrible creature I had seen attached to Harrington’s back hung in every shadowy corner of the room above us.

  Needless to say, I had not awakened in the best of moods, but I had hoped that a day at Juliana’s would restore me to some form of good cheer. It was not to be, however, and I wished we could at least go inside, away from the stifling warmth and the stench of the river that appeared to bother no one but me. There were also more visitors than I had expected.

  Edward Kane – who, it was becoming quite clear to me, was indeed a rival for Juliana’s affections – had been here all morning apparently and had taken little James out for a few hours for a birthday surprise. As well as Charles Hebbert, Walter Andrews was also present. I had dined with him two or three times since returning the club’s registers, and on more than one occasion I had seen curiosity in his sharp eyes and I had been tempted to share my thoughts with him – but I could not. I did not know where such suspicions would take him. He would either laugh at me or investigate and neither of those was an appealing thought.

  ‘I am very much looking forward to the Jubilee celebrations. If the weather is fine it will be quite a day.’

  I sipped the lemonade, though it was a touch tart for my taste, and looked over at the man politely trying to shift the direction of the conversation to something more pleasant. When I had arrived, Juliana had told me she had invited Barker and his wife, and I am quite sure my mouth dropped open in shock. James Barker – Harrington’s secretary at the wharves; the last time I had seen him was that fateful moment when we had bumped into each other in the street and he had told me about the amount of time Harrington was spending in the small warehouse. He had also told me he had left Harrington’s employment; it appeared that once his employer had died, he had been sought out and re-hired. More of the past was coming into my present to haunt me.

  ‘Yes it shall,’ I said. I had no desire to speak to him but at the same time I had no desire for the topic to veer towards anything that might cause me trouble. I could not relax with him here – what if he mentioned something to Edward Kane about Harrington’s strange activities? I was sure I could provide some explanation, and I would once again blame his fevers – but Kane might then mention the letters to Barker, and where would that lead? It was as if I was standing in the centre of a net and the slightest movement would cause it to close up around me. Regardless of Harrington’s deeds, I too had committed a terrible crime, and each day I felt more and more as if the world was conspiring to never allow me to be completely free of it.

  Juliana joined in, talking of her plans to take little James to watch the spectacle, and as her words washed over me, I realised sadly that if I were not careful, she would slip away from me. When I had asked her why she had invited Barker, she told me that Kane had been encouraging her to take a more active role in the business – it was James’ inheritance, after all. Her eyes and smile had been all light, and there was an air of excitement about her that I had not seen in years. She had always wanted to be more involved in James’ business – and when she said she thought that her late husband, God rest his soul, would be proud of her, it was the first time I had seen her mention him without sorrow tightening her expression. I had always hoped I would be the one to make that change in her, but apparently it was not to be.

  She told me that Kane had been trying to persuade her to get
a private tutor for James, and then, if she found she was happy with that arrangement, perhaps it would be time to find a good school for him – and that in turn would give her more time to spend learning more about the import and export business. Kane would help her, she said, by introducing her to some of his contacts.

  I had felt impotent listening to her, and I could not help my jealousy escaping in a small barbed comment about Kane making her decisions for her, that I had thought her stronger than that. Juliana had looked shocked – as had Andrews – but Charles Hebbert had laughed merrily and told me not to be so dour. ‘I think Edward Kane is a fine young man,’ he said. ‘He’s a good influence on Juliana. The young bring out the life in each other.’

  He had slapped me on the shoulder and gone out into the garden, where we all now sat so politely waiting for Kane and little James to return.

  His message was clear: Kane was far more suitable a husband for Juliana than I. His words stung most because I could not help but agree: Edward Kane was younger, wealthier and certainly more full of life than I – but I could not believe he loved her more. It was I who had been with her through all her dark times; he had not arrived until the butterfly was emerging from the chrysalis.

  I must admit that it hurt to think that she might prefer him to me. I was an old fool, perhaps, but an old fool in love for the first time in so many years.

  ‘Thomas?’ She was looking in my direction. ‘Are you all right? Mr Barker was asking if you were going to the parade.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I smiled. ‘This infernal heat is making me drowsy – and the river is more pungent than usual today.’

  ‘All I can smell is honeysuckle,’ Andrews said, ‘but it is indeed warm.’

  The mention of the river caused a small crease to momentarily furrow her brow, but then she shrugged it away. I wished I found it so easy. My dreams had left me with a trace of my old madness, and in this tense atmosphere and stifling heat I found it hard not to think of the Thames without remembering the priest and his struggle with the Upir, and particularly the splash of the water on that grim night of Harrington’s death.

  ‘But perhaps we should go inside,’ Charles said. ‘It is rather sticky, and no doubt Edward and James will be back soon from their mystery adventure.’

  ‘Oh, no mystery there,’ Barker said gaily. ‘They looked as if they were having a very jolly time when we arrived.’

  ‘You saw them?’ Juliana said. ‘Where?’

  ‘They were fishing – in a little rowboat in the river. I’m sure it was them at any rate. It certainly looked like Mr Kane.’

  The poor man could have had no idea what he’d said, but before he had even finished his sentence, Juliana had leapt to her feet and was running inside. Hebbert and I immediately followed, all politeness forgotten, and by the time we had caught up with her she was through the house, the front door was wide open and she was halfway across the road.

  ‘James!’ she shouted, her hands gripping the thick stone wall. ‘James!’ She turned to run down the damp steps to the bank, but Charles grabbed her.

  ‘Juliana, stop it!’

  She called her son’s name again and struggled against her father. ‘Let go of me! I want him away from the water! James!’

  ‘You’ll scare him!’

  Charles was right: the little rowing boat was not far from the bank and tethered to a sturdy post with a thick rope to stop it drifting as the man and boy sat and dangled rods over the side. I imagined that before we had arrived it had been a picture of serenity, but James, hearing his mother shouting his name in such alarm, had stood up in the boat and spun round. Edward Kane, surprised, had twisted too, and the boat rocked with the precipitous movement. As the boat tilted, James, unused to being on the water, started to lose his balance. With his focus on his mother’s anxiety rather than where he was, he took a step forward, and his shoe caught on his fishing pole and he tripped. Kane grabbed for him, but James had leant too far forward and Kane’s shifting weight sent him tumbling over the side and into the water.

  Hebbert thrust his daughter into my arms and ran down the slick stone steps. I held her tight, expecting her to start screaming hysterically, but all I felt was a dead weight. She had not fainted, but all the life had drained out of her in the single instant.

  Edward Kane had wasted no time; he had stripped off his jacket and shoes and now plunged from the rowing boat into the murky water to where James had briefly splashed before sinking below the dark surface. The boy had never learned to swim, and even though it was a warm day I had no doubt that the water was cold enough to shock him.

  Andrews and the Barkers had joined us, but I barely noticed them. My heart raced and I knew I was muttering some words of calm to Juliana, though I have no memory of what I said. Below us Charles Hebbert was standing at the water’s edge, one hand gripping the post to which the small boat was moored, calling both for Kane and James. A dark head broke the surface for the briefest moment and then Kane was gone again, searching the depths. Although they were close to the bank, the river’s currents were not gentle and the bed was full of weeds to snarl a boy’s legs in.

  As we waited with baited breath, I could not help but think of the fantastical Upir, thrown back into the river after Harrington’s death. It did not exist. It did not – and yet I felt a shiver of dread that left me trembling almost as much as Juliana was.

  ‘He has him!’ Hebbert shouted up from below. ‘He has him.’

  Juliana broke free of my arms and ran down to the bank, Andrews right behind her. Kane was swimming towards Hebbert, dragging the boy on his back behind him. He staggered onto the filthy mud and lay the boy down and Hebbert and Andrews were on their knees instantly, pumping at his chest and blowing into his small mouth.

  I did not move. I knew I should. I was a medical doctor – I had served on battlefields. It should have been me there in Andrews’ place, fighting alongside Hebbert to get the stinking water from the boy’s lungs, but I could not bring myself to go to the river’s edge.

  Even from where I stood I could see that James was deathly pale. Strands of green slime coloured his blond hair and I could not help but wonder how far he had sunk into those murky depths. The idea of placing my mouth over his revolted me. The river had been inside him. What else had reached for him as he sank? I could not help myself: I thought of an ancient creature with red eyes and sharp teeth waiting on the riverbed for a new host.

  James finally retched and coughed and a blast of water ejected itself from his lungs. As he opened his eyes he looked dazed, struggling to remember where and with whom he was. His mother fell to her knees and smothered him with hugs and kisses, her tears washing away the stench.

  Beside me, the Barkers gasped with relief and clutched at each other. I alone remained unmoved.

  Kane, drenched and filthy, scooped the boy up and brought him up the stairs as Andrews pulled the boat to the bank and retrieved the American’s coat. It was only now, as the group hurried back inside the house, that I was able to shake off my stupor and join them, trying to ignore my overwhelming disgust and fear.

  *

  The Barkers departed shortly after that, having ascertained little James was alive and would be well. They were not part of the family like the rest of us, Kane included these days, and they let us get on with looking after James. The housekeeper started boiling water for a hot bath as Juliana and Hebbert stripped the shivering child of his sodden clothes and within an hour he was tucked up in bed and trying to eat the beef broth his mother was forcefully feeding him. I loitered in the doorway and watched for a moment before heading downstairs. Was it my imagination, or had red blotches begun to appear on his pale cheeks? Or was it simply my tiredness playing tricks on me? I had never liked the boy, but I could not help that, for I knew what his father had become, and that his birth had been so difficult as to be almost unnatural. It had always been hard for me to put those things to one side in my mind.

  ‘He will be just fine,’ Hebbert
said, handing Kane a brandy. The American was wrapped in a blanket himself and sitting by a hastily lit fire. ‘Children are hardy. His mother thinks he is fragile, but I’ve seen children with far more serious complaints than his occasional coughs and colds. His father had a weak chest and I don’t doubt he’s inherited it, but more fresh air will no doubt sort that out.’

  I poured myself a brandy and saw my hand was shaking slightly. What else had the boy inherited from his father? Could it be Fate that had forced him into the water? Had something been waiting for him under there? My jaw tightened and I cursed my dreams and my memories. There were no monsters. I would not believe it.

  ‘What happened to you?’ Andrews said quietly. ‘You didn’t so much as move an inch.’

  ‘I’m afraid I do not know,’ I said. ‘My reactions are not what they were when I was a young man – perhaps it was shock?’

  My friend did not look convinced, and I am certain I saw more than a little disappointment in his eyes. What could I say? That I was terrified of the river on some deep subconscious level, of what might be in it? That the thought of pressing my mouth to the boy’s and tasting the river filled me with dread? For even if there was no Upir, the memory of my own madness had been thrown into that river and I was becoming more and more fearful of its resurrection. Everywhere I turned, pieces of the past were gathering around me.

  ‘I feel some shame at my inaction, Walter. I truly do, but James will be fine.’

  ‘Thankfully.’

  ‘He should not have been out on the water anyway,’ I said, suddenly feeling the need to defend myself. ‘Juliana would not have allowed it.’ I spoke louder than I had intended and Kane looked up, guilt filling his dark eyes.