‘Stay for dinner!’ Kane exclaimed. ‘There’s no need to rush off.’ He grinned, the easy smile of the victor, and I gritted my teeth as I returned it but shook my head. ‘Sadly I cannot,’ I said. ‘I really do have work waiting for me.’
‘Then you must come for dinner soon,’ Juliana said. ‘You really are the kindest friend I have, Thomas. There is no one else I would have trusted with James.’ She looked at her son. ‘James, come and say thank you and goodbye to Uncle Thomas. He has to go home.’
The boy dutifully came over and I crouched and let him hug me. He squeezed me tightly – almost too tightly. Was there menace in it? What did he know? What had he seen?
‘Goodbye, James,’ I said, breaking free and forcing myself to ruffle his blond hair. ‘I shall see you again soon.’
‘Good bye, Uncle Thomas.’ His voice was soft and he half-smiled at me, as if we shared a secret. Suddenly those blue eyes no longer looked so innocent, and even though the house was warm, I shivered. Harrington had been infected when James was conceived; it was not unreasonable to think that perhaps something of the Upir had transferred to his unborn child. Had James been threatening me, or was it that he could somehow see in his dreams the dark deeds I had been forced to do? Did he even understand what he was seeing? Or – a dreadful thought! – was there another Upir, an awful procreation of the one attached to me, growing inside him? Would he become a monster too?
Whichever was the truth, I could not stand to be around him.
And now I could really feel my fever growing.
41
London. May, 1898
Dr Bond
It was nearly midnight when the heavy knock at the front door disturbed my preparations. The packages had been wrapped and were now in the kitchen, packed into the two small valises I had bought especially to carry them. Even though it was well into the night, the heat of the day lingered in the house and I was sweating from my exertions, carrying the parcels up from the cellar. I was not tired – I could still feel the immediate invigoration that came after feeding the Upir – but I was looking forward to getting the last of it – of her – despatched into the river. Once George’s man had taken me out onto the river for the second night all traces of her would be gone from the house, and until the next time I could padlock the cellar door and pretend nothing had ever happened.
My heart raced as the knocker went again, loud and insistent. I hesitated in the hallway, not knowing what to do. Whoever it was, he was keen to see me – but I needed to leave shortly if I was to make my rendezvous with George on the riverbank. But if I were to leave and whoever it was knocking so insistently was still waiting outside, that would look highly suspicious – how ever would I explain the valises, let alone my sudden need to leave my house so late at night. I had no choice. I had to let whoever it was in.
‘Thomas,’ Walter Andrews said as he stepped in to the hall. ‘You are still up. I thought you must be asleep.’
‘I am not long in from a dinner engagement.’ I did not move too far back, keeping him close to the door, not wanting to encourage him to linger. I itched to be rid of him – of all people, I did not want a retired detective in my house. I knew only too well how keen an observer of people and detail Walter Andrews was. ‘But what brings you here so late?’
‘We have all sent messages to you.’ He was agitated, almost irritated, and that in turn irritated me.
I glanced at the table by the door and saw three envelopes on the plate there, which came as a surprise to me. When had they arrived? Now that I no longer had Mrs Parks in my service I must have put them there. I must have picked them up from the floor when I got home and placed them on the salver – but I had no recollection of it.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘I have been busy – what on earth is the matter?’
‘It’s young James – he has a terrible fever. The local physician has seen him, but Juliana is insisting on your care.’ His brow furrowed. ‘We are all being very positive, but I must be honest with you, my friend, he does not look at all well.’
A fever. My stomach churned. A fever like mine, perhaps? ‘Has the physician seen him this evening?’
‘Yes, and he has given him something to help the lad sleep, but he is almost continually coughing, and his skin is burning very badly. Juliana is beside herself.’
‘I shall go first thing in the morning,’ I said. From the corner of my eye I could see a thumbprint of red on one of the envelopes I had chosen to ignore, either whilst in the grip of the parasite, or in the midst of the awful task in the cellar, or in the laudanum and brandy haze afterwards. I moved slightly and leaned against the table, blocking it from view. ‘There is little point in going now: the boy should be sleeping and so should Juliana. But I will be there by breakfast time.’
Andrews nodded, and I could see his disappointment – but what exactly did he expect me to do? Drop everything and run to the side of the woman who had chosen another over me? Juliana was Edward Kane’s responsibility now.
My bitterness surprised me. I had thought myself a better man than that. What the Upir made me do was one thing – I did not consider that any part of who I was. I was a good man, one who had always held reason and dignity over emotion. But it would appear that over the years I had forgotten the power that love had to twist into something dark inside.
‘I am sure she will be grateful to see you whenever you can get there,’ Andrews said, a snip of reproach in his voice. ‘You are the only one she trusts, Thomas.’
I felt a pang of something close to guilt at that. I should leave immediately and go to the boy, but I could not, for I had dark deeds to finish. There were men waiting for me, and they would not be happy if I missed our meeting.
‘First thing,’ I said. ‘I promise, the boy will be fine until then, Walter. Waking him at this hour will likely do more harm than good.’
We said our awkward farewells and then I ushered him out of the house. I turned the lights down to create the impression I was going straight to bed, in case he was studying my house from the street, and then I waited. After a while I went to my study window and looked down at the pavement outside, but even though I could see no sign of him, still, I left it as long as possible before I dragged my laden valises out into the night and headed once more for the river, trying to think of anything except the butchered contents.
She had been a wicked woman, of that I had no doubt. I had studied her for nights, watching her steal and lie and beat another unfortunate woman until she had handed over her meagre earnings. I was no monster. I did not consider the life of an unfortunate, someone who had fallen into despair, to be in itself a crime, and I did not believe that any woman would choose that life for herself if it were not out of dire necessity. And I would not feed the Upir from those whom life had forced into such lowness – I would not become like Harrington or Hebbert. I did what I must to protect the innocent from the creature on my back that drove the bloodlust, and I considered the easy prey of prostitutes to be as innocent as any other. I had vowed to kill only the criminal, and I would be firm on that front. Still, I did not like to think how the aftertaste of my activities, that metallic tang on my tongue that no longer made me retch, or that perhaps I crammed the soft parts into my mouth with occasional relish. That was not me. That was it. I refused to believe otherwise.
I thought of James and his fever. I thought of his father and what he had done. The idea that the Upir might have left its seed with Harrington’s inside Juliana plagued me. Her pregnancy had been terrible and the labour had almost killed her. Could that have been because of the unnatural monstrosity growing inside her?
The river had never felt more filled with secrets than it did that night.
42
London. May, 1898
Edward Kane
He hated seeing Juliana like this. Neither of them had slept properly for days, and when at last she did drift off from exhaustion he would hear her crying in her sleep, calling out for James. Someti
mes the James she shouted for was her dead husband, and sometimes her terribly sick child. No doubt memories of the former were haunting her because of her fear of death of the latter. Edward was not jealous; he knew that whatever love she had had for her first husband was nothing compared to what she felt for him – but he felt so damned helpless. There was nothing he could do to ease her suffering. He would not insult her with platitudes, not when it was so clear the boy was gravely ill. Although it hurt him to see it – he had grown genuinely fond of the child – he knew the worry he felt was nothing compared with what his wife was suffering.
Despite the beautiful spring weather outside, a pall hung over the house in Barnes. Although he had never considered himself a superstitious man, Edward Kane could not stop thinking of it as a visitation of death, as if the Grim Reaper himself had come to call but was not yet sure if he was staying. Even with the windows open wide to allow a healthy warm breeze, the air was greasy with the foreboding of death.
Dr Bond had been a godsend. Over the past week he had barely left the boy’s side, and Edward knew that although it did nothing to ease Juliana’s terror at the thought she might lose her child, at least she knew he was in the safest of hands. Bond had promised her he would not leave until the boy was well again. Edward had nothing but the utmost respect for the doctor; for his own part, he wasn’t sure he would have been so generous of spirit in defeat.
‘It is very kind of you to call on us.’ Juliana looked strained, but Edward was glad that they had visitors. It was good for her to see others cared, and the Chard Williams had clearly become fond of James during his lessons there, for this was not their first visit since he had taken ill. ‘I am sure that when James is well enough, he will enjoy your cakes a great deal.’
‘I know he likes them,’ Ada Chard Williams said. Her face was almost as tight with worry as Juliana’s. ‘It was the least I could do. Is there any improvement?’
‘It’s hard to tell,’ Juliana said, carefully sipping her tea, ‘but Dr Bond seems confident he will recover.’ Her voice was hollow and Edward knew she wasn’t convinced. He couldn’t blame her for that. Neither was he.
‘Let’s hope the fever breaks soon,’ he said.
‘I’m sure he will soon be running around and tiring you both out as boys do,’ Chard Williams said.
‘It’s his dreams I cannot stand,’ Juliana admitted. She glanced up at Edward, who stood behind her with one hand on her slim shoulder. At least she had not shut him out in her grief; they were still able to take comfort in each other. ‘He talks of such horrible things – “dead girls in the river”, he keeps saying, though why, I cannot begin to understand.’
Ada Chard Williams’ eyes widened and she visibly shuddered. ‘Children do have such imaginations, don’t they? Maybe I could speak to him? I’m very good with the young ’uns.’
‘That is kind of you,’ said Juliana, ‘but I could not bear for anyone else to catch his sickness. And he is barely conscious most of the time.’
‘Dr Bond says it is most likely his memory playing tricks on him from his fall in the water,’ Edward cut in. ‘For that, I will never forgive myself.’
‘He keeps saying he doesn’t want us to throw him in the river,’ Juliana was speaking as much to herself as their awkward guests. ‘Why does he think I would do that?’
The Chard Williams exchanged a glance and Edward gave them a small, sympathetic smile. Even Walter Andrews was uncomfortable when he visited now. Edward knew that he felt like he was intruding on someone else’s pain, however well-meaning his intent.
‘We should probably get back,’ Ada Chard Williams said. ‘We have taken up too much of your time already. Mrs Kane, you really should get out in the fresh air for a walk while he’s sleeping – you must take care of yourself, you know. You will need to stay healthy for when he gets better.’
Juliana smiled gratefully. ‘Yes, yes of course you’re right. Perhaps I shall.’
Edward knew she wouldn’t; she had no intention of leaving the house, not while her child’s life hung in the balance.
When the Chard Williams had left, Edward made fresh coffee and took the pot and one of the small cakes the tutor’s wife had brought up to Thomas Bond. The doctor was half-asleep in a chair beside the bed where the boy was lying, sweating and shivering. James had always been small for his age, but he seemed to have shrunk over the past few days. His arms were stick-thin and the dark hollows around his eyes amplified the pale, waxy sheen on his skin. Edward’s heart sank yet again. If Dr Bond was one side of the bed trying to save the boy, then Death was surely on the other, trying to drag him down to the depths.
‘How is he?’ Edward asked as Bond took the coffee and cake and placed them on the table. He didn’t touch either.
‘Not good,’ Bond said. He was obviously exhausted. ‘I am trying everything I know, but the fever refuses to let him go; indeed, I fear it is getting worse.’ He rubbed his unshaven chin, but appeared oblivious to the two days’ growth of stubble. ‘His pain is increasing. He can keep down neither food nor water, and that has made him very dehydrated. He is still delirious, but he no longer vocalises his dreams.’
‘I’m glad about that at least,’ Edward said. ‘I fear his ramblings remind Juliana of Harrington’s death. They’re strange dreams for a child, don’t you think? I haven’t said anything to his mother, but I wondered if perhaps his grandfather told him stories of some of the cases you two worked on? The Whitehall case, and those like it? Or maybe he overhead Charles talking – children always listen when they shouldn’t, after all.’
‘It’s entirely possible,’ Bond said, looking down at the floor, ‘but if he did so, it was not in my company.’
‘I hope you don’t think I was suggesting—’ Edward started, but Bond immediately started shaking his head and held up a hand to stop him.
‘I know you meant no accusation. I’m sorry – I think we are all feeling the strain. Perhaps we should get James to a hospital? I truly don’t think there is very more I can do here …’
Edward leaned over the child and stroked his damp head tenderly. ‘Juliana trusts you, Thomas, and so do I. No one has been more of a father to him over the years than you.’ His throat tightened with emotion. How could James have come to this state? And gone downhill so fast in the past week? None of it felt real – but real it was. The wheezing, uneven breaths counted out the seconds as James struggled to hold onto his life. His eyes moved behind his closed lids as his dreams continued silently.
‘Should I prepare her for the worst?’ he said quietly.
For a long moment, Bond said nothing. He looked old and tired, as if he carried all the worries of the world on his back. Whatever the outcome, he and Juliana owed many debts of gratitude to this fine man.
‘I shall try one more medicine,’ Bond said softly, ‘but if there is no improvement after that, then yes, I think we should all expect the worst.’
*
Little James died at just before noon the next day. It was not a peaceful death. From the hours just before dawn until he took his final breath he was racked with stomach pain, his frail body doubled over and his limbs tensed so tight that Edward could not believe they did not snap. His weak screams were worse than if his cries had torn through the house. Though he was lost in his delirium, nevertheless he called out for his mother to make it stop, and every time she squeezed his hand and told him through her tears that she was with him, he called for her again, for he was so confused in his terror and pain that he didn’t know she was there. Juliana could not comfort her baby in his last moments, and the tragedy of that, for both the boy and his mother, broke Edward’s heart.
The hours seemed endless. Walter Andrews arrived at some point. Kane could not remember when, or who let him in, but he joined the gathering around the soaking bed where James lay writhing and Edward watched the horror that they were all feeling settle onto the ex-policeman’s face. The boy’s agony and suffering were so unbearable to see that when the m
oment finally came, Edward could not fight the wave of relief that came over him. It was done. It was over.
Then Juliana filled the house with her grief. She screamed her pain: every animal that had ever lost its young, every mother who had ever lost her child. She was broken, and there was nothing Edward Kane could do but hold her.
43
London. June, 1898
Dr Bond
Rain fell as we stood round the small grave, the drops pattering steadily against the leaves of the overhanging trees. The humid air was still and overhead the sky was an endless grey. The priest committed James to the ground and Kane steadied Juliana, who let out a small sob of anguish that rippled out across the graveyard and almost made the trees shiver. I could not see her eyes behind her heavy veil, but I knew they would be red and sore, as they had been ever since James had fallen ill. I tried to feel something – there should have been myriad emotions raging inside me – but I could not. There was nothing but a pleasant emptiness. I had taken too much laudanum and smoked too much of the poppy over the past few days, trying to free myself of the boy’s agonised shouts for his mother, but I heard them still, over and over in my head as I lay in bed, so often that I had almost convinced myself that his spirit had returned home with me, that he was haunting me. Perhaps he was.
‘She is selling the business,’ Walter Andrews said softly as we watched Juliana take a handful of earth and throw it onto the coffin. ‘Kane tells me they are going to go to America.’
‘Perhaps that is wise,’ I said. I searched my heart for some pain at the news. I had fought so hard to have her, to keep her in my life, and now, after everything, I would be losing her anyway. She would be gone. There was only numbness. ‘She has had too much tragedy in London. Kane has a good life there, I imagine. It will be easier for her to heal.’
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