by Carol Rivers
‘And Richard Ryde?’ Lizzie interrupted, feeling sick at the thought of what Savage was capable of. ‘Did you mean to kill him?’
‘That little hiccup was unfortunate.’
‘How can you be so heartless?’ Lizzie said, appalled. ‘Richard was a young man in his prime, with a family to support, and now Ethel is a widow!’
Savage stared at her contemptuously. ‘I’m sure her recovery will be swift. I’m acquainted with Mrs Ryde’s little intrigue of the heart, confirming my opinion yet again that human nature is both devious and fickle.’
Lizzie was speechless. He knew about Cal and Ethel! He knew about everything, just as he had said he did. They had all been dancing to his tune, ever since Duncan King’s body had been found.
‘You can’t kill us all,’ Lizzie croaked. ‘Not even you could get away with that.’
‘You would be very surprised at what I can do,’ he snarled, walking slowly towards her. ‘First, I want the deeds to the land on Morley’s Wharf and a contract of sale signed and sealed. And on that, your futures depend.’
Lizzie lifted her chin. ‘Danny will never sell.’
‘In that case, you will persuade him for me.’ He reached out and lifted the hair from her shoulders, putting his face close to hers. ‘Think about what you love most in life, and imagine it being taken away. So that you will never see it – or hold it – again, and then you’ll know exactly what you are capable of.’
Lizzie closed her eyes. Tears pushed themselves from under her lids. She knew he was talking about Polly.
Chapter Sixty-Three
‘Please no!’ Frank screamed again, wriggling back against Bert, groaning and yelping.
‘You stinking bastards,’ Bert cursed, looking into their faces. ‘Murderers, the lot of you.’
The click of metal on metal gave Bert his reply. He waited for the bullet to reach him, plunge into his brain or his heart, rip at the delicate organs that had served him so well in his short lifespan. He wondered if the pain would be unbearable, his body racked by the spasms of death. And not a flicker of compassion in their killers’ eyes, but perhaps another shot to confirm the kill. His only hope was that someone would find their bodies. That justice would be done in some shape or form.
But neither the pain nor the blackness arrived. Instead the lantern swung violently and in its precarious light he saw another figure. The glint of a blade slipped silently across the night and two bodies sank slowly to the ground. Bert stared at the heap. The gun that had been pointed towards him lay on the ground.
‘What’s happening? Who are you?’ Bert strained his eyes to see. He tensed, ready for a delayed shot, something he had failed to identify.
The figure came closer. Bert saw the brief flash of white teeth in the lamplight. Features lean as a whippet’s, dark eyes shrewd and keen.
‘Who are you?’ Bert repeated as the ropes at his hands and feet were loosened.
‘I’m the answer to your prayer, Mr Allen,’ said the man in a rich, throaty accent.
‘How do you know my name?’ Bert asked, his eyes fixed on the quick-moving stranger.
‘I’m a friend of your brother’s.’
In the light of the lamp, Danny took the hip flask from the man he recognized as Murphy.
‘Drink up, my friend,’ Murphy told him as he held the lamp aloft. ‘I think you’re in need of sustenance.’
Danny gulped hard and the pain at his ribs soon eased. Savage had never intended to bargain. He’d hardly stepped inside the hostelry before he was downed, bound hand and foot and given a solid booting. But as he eased himself into an upright position, Danny smiled. ‘Thanks,’ he said gratefully and he spat the blood from his mouth.
‘Would you look at that now,’ Murphy said with a wry smile. ‘Didn’t I warn you that you might be out of your depth?’
Danny spat again, glancing up at the Irishman. ‘You were right, Murphy. I’ll give you that. Now get me up.’
It was Bert who took his arm. ‘You all right, Danny?’
‘I’ll do. Are you?’
‘A moment later and we’d have been dead ducks.’ Frank brushed the straw from his clothes. ‘But this geezer—’
‘His name is Murphy,’ Danny said, staring the Irishman in the eye. ‘And I owe him a favour.’
‘I’ll call it in one day,’ Murphy acknowledged.
Danny frowned, staring curiously at the man who had just freed them. ‘How did you know we were here in Aldgate tonight?’
Murphy shrugged easily. ‘My soldiers never leave me, Danny boy. Not even for a woman.’
Danny suddenly understood. ‘Fowler? He’s still your man?’
‘Indeed.’
‘ Our Fowler – he’s one of your men?’ Bert said in alarm.
‘Sure, you can’t trust a soul these days, can you?’ Murphy laughed, his eyes dancing in the glow of the light.
‘And Lizzie?’ Danny said anxiously, his heart racing at the thought of what might be happening to her.
‘She’s inside the hostel, my friend, safe enough for the moment,’ Murphy replied calmly. ‘And the Australian—’
‘Cal?’ Danny feared the worst. ‘Is he alive?’
To his relief, Murphy nodded. ‘But he’s in no shape to join us. I’ve had my men take him across the road to my people where he’ll be cared for.’
‘Your people?’ Bert repeated. ‘But there’s only a brothel.’
‘That’s right,’ Murphy agreed. ‘And a fine one it is too.’
‘But me and Lizzie thought—’
‘That the two in the street were conducting business?’ Murphy twisted his lips in a mirthless smile. ‘They were in a sense, my friend. My business, lookouts posted to watch the scum who stole this inn from me.’
‘This was yours?’ Danny said in startled surprise.
‘It was,’ Murphy replied, drawing in a slow breath. ‘I’d not a penny in my pocket when I left Ireland, but I shed honest sweat to make this a fine and upstanding business. Then one day, Savage paid me a visit, as he did to you. Of course I refused him – as you did.’
‘What happened?’ Frank said in a whisper.
‘He did with me as he did to your friend. And to others, I suspect, who opposed him. I was thrown into the well.’
‘Christ,’ said Bert, taking a sharp breath. ‘He tried to drown you.’
Murphy nodded. ‘But I paddled on the surface, like a drowning dog. I went under several times, but his face appeared to me. The thought of revenge kept me alive. My lungs were bursting, my knuckles bruised and bloody from clinging to the sides. Nothing has ever felt so good as the touch of the bucket to my fingers. I clung to it and the rope that was my lifeline. By morning I was near my last breath. But I saw daylight again and survived.’ Murphy heaved in a sigh and glanced at Danny. ‘Since then, I’ve learned patience and how to keep what is mine, by the strength of my wit and good and true soldiers about me.’
Frank leaned into the light and broke the silence. ‘So you must know a way we can get out of here?’
For a moment Murphy was silent, then threw back his head and laughed. ‘And here’s me thinking you’d want to save your lady first!’
Frank looked embarrassed. ‘I only meant—’
‘Ah, sure, I know what you meant.’ Murphy turned to Danny. ‘How many did you count when they took you?’
‘Two handfuls of men, maybe more.’ Danny paused. ‘How many do you have?’
‘Enough,’ was all Murphy answered.
‘He has Lizzie, remember. There can’t be any shooting—’ Danny began but Murphy was already shaking his head.
‘We’ve other ways, quieter ways,’ he said softly, his hand slipping to the knife in his belt. ‘There will be no shooting match, no chance of her being harmed.’
‘You could be outnumbered,’ Danny warned, thinking but not saying that knives were no match for guns.
‘I’ve people I can trust,’ Murphy assured him. ‘Strong men, as you yourself know.’
‘But they’ll see us coming,’ said Frank apprehensively. ‘They’ve guards at the back and front.’
A hush filled the stable. Murphy passed the lamp to Danny. ‘Hold this, my friend, while I show you.’ Murphy found a spade and began to clear the straw. He scooped away the fetid earth and paused. It was then Danny saw the boards beneath.
A trapdoor.
Chapter Sixty-Four
‘Bring the Daimler round,’ Savage told one of his men. ‘Mrs Flowers and I are leaving.’
‘Where are we going?’ Lizzie tried to pull away but he held her fast.
‘Somewhere a little more comfortable. Time to get to know one another.’
‘Let me go.’ Lizzie pulled her arm again but, with her hands tied, she knew resistance was useless. Where was he going to take her?
Lizzie knew there was no escape. She stumbled as he pushed her towards the door. It was opened by one of his men carrying a gun. ‘You know what you have to do,’ Savage instructed. ‘Flowers will cooperate when he knows we have her – and should it be necessary, his boy. Then, when he’s signed – tidy up.’ Savage pushed Lizzie into the warm, dark night.
She looked along the street for help. It was deserted. The van stood to one side, but it was empty. If she screamed would the people in the brothel hear her?
But before she could think what to do, a limousine she recognized as Savage’s drew up. The driver, wearing a peaked cap, got out and opened the back door. Savage roughly thrust her in. She stayed still, trying to get her breath, looking out of the window, wondering, if she yelled out, would anyone come to help her?
Savage climbed in beside her. He waved to the driver. ‘Carry on.’
Lizzie closed her eyes. When she opened them the car was going smoothly along the lane. She glared at Savage with hatred in her eyes.
He laughed aloud, shaking his head. ‘My dear, if you could see your face!’
‘What are you going to do to Danny and the others?’
‘Do you really want to know?’ he spluttered, sliding his hat from his bald head and balancing it on his knee. ‘Why, of course you do. Curiosity gets the cat, and women are feline, are they not?’ He laughed again at his own joke. ‘Sadly, there isn’t much to tell. They will be dispatched – I have a system, a rather clever one. Tried and tested many times. Crude, cold and wet. But very effective.’
‘What do you mean?’ Lizzie whispered, her breath caught in her throat.
Savage’s smile left his face. ‘Just remember, my dear, I’ve warned you. And if you and your Polly want to survive, then behave!’ He placed his fingers over her thigh.
‘Such beauty. You would do well to try to preserve it.’ He pulled her face round to him, squeezing hard. ‘Mrs Flowers.’
Just then, the car swerved. Flowers let go of her and leaned forward. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ he yelled at the driver.
There was no reply as the driver brought the Daimler to a sharp halt. Lizzie heard Leonard Savage’s growl of anger as the back door was thrust open.
‘Why have you stopped, you idiot?’ he demanded, staring up.
‘Because this is the end of your journey,’ replied a voice in a throaty drawl. Lizzie watched in breathless silence as the driver doffed his hat and made a low sweep of his arm. ‘This way – sir.’
‘Who are you?’ Savage said, a thread of fear in his voice.
‘Why now, would you believe it? Such wit in this fellow,’ laughed the Irishman. ‘A grand man like yourself should recognize the stench of his own turf. The same place as not a few minutes ago you were describing to the lady beside you.’
Savage recoiled. ‘Murphy!’
‘As ever was.’
‘But you’re dead!’
‘And truly resurrected,’ Murphy said, reaching in and grasping Savage by the throat. ‘Did you think this day would never come?’ Murphy spat into Savage’s face. ‘Well, here I am to haunt you. And to see you surely on your way to hell.’
Lizzie heard Savage scream as Murphy dragged him from the car and Danny stepped forward to help.
‘I’ll give you everything, every penny I have,’ pleaded Savage on his knees.
In the light of the many Tilleys now lit in the stable yard, held aloft by Murphy’s men, Lizzie could see the Irishman clearly. He was younger than she had first thought and slim, with a proud bearing, his features chiselled and lean. His brown hair was razored at the sides and his leather waistcoat hung loosely across his bare chest. His soldiers, as he called them, stood watching silently.
‘There’s nothing you can give me,’ Murphy said, ‘that wasn’t mine already.’
‘Don’t kill me,’ Savage begged, squirming on his knees towards Danny, Bert and Frank. ‘Tell him to give me another chance. I promise you’ll never see me again. You’ll have your land—’
‘I already have it,’ Danny said coldly. ‘You’ve nothing to bargain with. As I had nothing. Your time’s up in the East End.’
‘No!’ Savage shrieked as Murphy signalled to two of his men. ‘Take him to the well.’
‘What?’ Savage bleated as they pulled him to his feet. ‘You’re putting me down there? But you can’t!’ Savage stared around him, sweat pouring from his bald head. He looked at Lizzie. ‘Don’t let him do it! Please, I beg you!’
‘Is there no other way?’ Lizzie asked Murphy.
‘So the dog can bite again?’ Murphy smiled. ‘What’s more important to you? This man or your family?’
‘I wouldn’t harm anyone, I promise,’ Savage screamed. ‘I’ll change. Just give me the chance—’
‘I’m giving you a chance,’ Murphy said, his voice thick with emotion. ‘The same chance as you gave me and the friend of this man, who fell foul of you.’ He narrowed his eyes, pushing his face into Savage’s. ‘But I warn you, fight hard to stay afloat down there in the dark. Grasp at the wet stone until your knuckles bleed and your heart is bursting out from your ribs. Fight, or else you’ll be sucked down, into the bowels of the Thames. Keep that in mind as the freezing water fills your mouth and enters your lungs.’
At the sound of Savage’s screams, Lizzie turned away. She had heard and seen enough of violence and madness. Leonard Savage didn’t deserve a chance. But Murphy was giving him one; a chance in a million perhaps, but it was more than Richard had had.
More than Savage would have given any of them, if he had won the day.
Chapter Sixty-Five
One month later
It was six o’clock on an unseasonably hot September morning and Lizzie was trying to fight off the effects of the dramatic arrival of her brother-in-law on her doorstep, just over an hour before. She’d been making breakfast for Polly and Bert when they’d heard a car screech to a halt outside. Next, there had been an almighty banging on the shop window. They’d rushed downstairs to find Syd outside, tearing his fingers through his uncombed hair.
‘You’ve got to come with me,’ he’d implored when Lizzie had unlocked the door. ‘Flo’s had pains all night. She won’t let me drive her to hospital.’
‘You mean the baby’s on its way?’ Lizzie had asked.
‘Dunno.’ Syd had looked desperate. ‘You’ve got to come and see.’
It had taken Lizzie only a few moments to gather her things and leave Polly in the care of her uncle before Syd drove them wildly to Langley Street.
But when they’d arrived at the house and rushed upstairs to the bedroom, they’d found Flo fast asleep in bed. Just where Syd had left her.
Now Lizzie gazed at her sister, who had woken at the disturbance. ‘What’s going on?’ she demanded sleepily, surprised to see Lizzie. ‘Syd, I told you it was a false alarm.’
‘What do I know about having babies?’ Syd groaned, glancing sheepishly at Lizzie and collapsing in the chair.
Flo struggled to sit up, pushing her damp fringe from her forehead. ‘Whatever it was has stopped now.’
Lizzie sat down on the bed and smiled. ‘Are you sure?’
&
nbsp; Flo nodded and pointed to her bump. ‘I reckon he was having a lark inside there.’ She grinned at Syd. ‘Trust a man to panic’
Red-faced, Syd stood up and wrung out the flannel in the enamel bowl. ‘What else was I to do? Stand around twiddling me fingers?’
Flo chuckled. ‘He was hopping around in the early hours trying to find his trousers. I couldn’t help seeing the funny side.’
‘Trust me, there’s nothing funny about seeing your wife in agony,’ Syd protested, thrusting his hands in his pockets.
‘I had a few pains yesterday, but they weren’t very strong.’
‘You didn’t tell me,’ Syd replied shortly.
‘No, because you would have fussed. And me waters ain’t broke yet and there’s almost three weeks to go.’
‘Syd did right,’ Lizzie said as she looked at her downcast brother-in-law. ‘Dr Shaw said because of your near miscarriage he wanted you back the minute you started labour. By rights you should be in the hospital by now.’
‘Not likely!’ Flo exclaimed. ‘You won’t ever catch me near that place again.’
‘What?’ Lizzie said in surprise, staring at Flo.
‘Precisely my point,’ Syd interrupted. ‘You’d better tell your sister what you told me.’
Flo shrugged, looking guilty. ‘I want you to deliver the baby, Lizzie.’
‘Me?’ Lizzie half laughed. ‘Flo, don’t joke at a time like this.’
‘I’m not. You helped to bring Polly into the world. She came out all right, didn’t she?’
‘I had no choice,’ Lizzie protested. ‘Babs was in a terrible state and there wasn’t anyone to help, just you and me. If Frank hadn’t gone to get Dr Tapper, I dread to think what would have happened.’
Lizzie still had nightmares about the day Polly was born. Babs had been in a terrible state, sick and undernourished and very distressed. Frank, who was thought to be the father, had been drinking heavily with Vinnie, their brother. Lizzie would never forgive Vinnie for running off and leaving them. At least Frank had eventually gone for help.
‘Babs had a breech birth,’ Flo reminded her calmly, ‘but this baby is coming out the normal way. And I guarantee you I won’t need no hospital.’
