Avon Street

by Paul Emanuelli

  ‘Aye it does that, but what would you be a wanting with the kitchen.’

  ‘No offence intended,’ Mrs Hawker replied, ‘but seeing as how you answers your own door and noticing that your hallway hasn’t seen a duster or a broom for a while, I’m guessing that there’s no Mrs Maggs, and no one else who does for you. So I’m going to make us all a nice pot of tea whilst you entertain your guests.’

  ‘You’re right in everything you say, missus, but you’re a guest. Would you be so kind as to tell me your name?’

  ‘My name is Mrs Hawker,’ she replied, ‘and I go by no other. But I make very good tea, so you get on with your entertaining and I’ll get on with the tea making.’

  ‘She’s a spirited woman, that one,’ Charlie said, when she was out of sight and earshot. ‘I’ve seen her afore at your house, but we’ve never been introduced. What would her first name be?’

  ‘My mother called her Angela,’ James said, as they climbed the stairs, ‘but it’s been a long time since anyone has addressed her as anything other than Mrs Hawker.’

  ‘I wouldn’t presume to call her anything else, without her agreeing to it,’ Charlie said. ‘But I can see why she’s called after the angels,’ he added. ‘Now come into the drawing room and rest.’

  James, like John, stopped and looked in awe around a drawing room crammed with furniture and ornaments and paintings and clocks, to an extent that little vacant space remained on floors or walls. Pieces of bronze and pottery and glass fought for space on tables and plinths, mantelpiece and hearth. With so much in the room it was almost an achievement for so few items to actually match each other, James reflected. Furniture when it was of the same period was in different styles, or un-matched woods, or from different countries of origin. Pseudo-Egyptian figurines stood on ornamental Greek plinths, whilst on the mantlepiece china dogs snapped at the heels of brass sphinxes and bronze elephants and everything was covered by a film of dust, broken only by occasional smudges of soot from the fireplace.

  ‘What do you think of my abode?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘It’s very tasteful, and yet manly,’ James said. John nodded in agreement and looked around as though in admiration.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  When Mrs Hawker kicked the drawing room door, Charlie Maggs duly opened it. She bustled in, brushing past Charlie with a tea tray. ‘I understand we may be staying here a while, so I bolted the front door.’

  James shuffled nervously. ‘That depends on Mr Maggs’ hospitality and I have not asked him yet.’ He hesitated, looking deep into Charlie’s eyes, suddenly aware of how little he knew the man. ‘Before I ask you, Charlie, you need to know what has brought us here and the dangers involved and Mrs Hawker deserves a fuller explanation of what has happened.’

  James told them how he had lost all his money in a night’s gambling, how he had been set upon when he was drunk and acknowledged John Doyle’s bravery in coming to his assistance. He explained how he had stabbed one of his attackers and that the man had later died. His eyes were busy throughout, studying the reactions of Mrs Hawker and Charlie. With Mrs Hawker all he saw was sadness and pain. Charlie seemed almost suspicious, with a growing unease in his expression. His eyes seemed somehow more callous and scheming; perhaps he was already preparing his excuses, or worse still, rehearsing his betrayal. Were the eyes really windows on the soul, or only mirrors, reflecting his insecurity, James wondered.

  When he spoke about Nathaniel Caine and the Cockroad gang he saw Charlie’s expression change again, as though all the warmth had drained from his body. His eyes became sharper and James noticed his still-powerful hands clenching and unclenching, pulling the skin white-tight on his knuckles. He paused, waiting for the man to say something, but Charlie put no words to whatever he was thinking. As James told him what he had pieced together of the attempt on his life and built towards asking for sanctuary, Charlie interrupted.

  ‘I need no asking,’ he said. ‘You are welcome to stay and this gentleman too, if he wishes,’ he said, nodding towards John Doyle, ‘and of course Mrs Hawker.’

  ‘I don’t know if John should stay,’ James said, his mind in a quandary, welcoming a potential ally, but fearing another betrayer, and one who already knew their hiding place. ‘It might be better if you were to leave Bath, John,’ he said. ‘Though you are of course free to do as you please.’

  ‘I have no need to be elsewhere,’ John said, ‘and I will not run.’

  Charlie looked John up and down as though he were trying to read his character. ‘Brave words, if I might say so.’ John gave him a cold look, but said nothing.

  ‘Then we will stay,’ James said, trying to ease the tension between the two men. Telling the story had brought the pieces together in James’ mind. The losses at cards, the attack by the Cockroad gang, and the attempt on his life, were all, he finally admitted to himself, linked with Frank Harcourt. It was Frank who had won at cards, he who had guided him drunk into Avon Street and then left him. Frank had arranged to meet him by the County Club and it was there that the assassin had been waiting. Yet still he found it difficult to accept that he had been betrayed by someone who he had thought of as a close friend. He buried his face in his good hand and the weariness swept over him, washing away what little strength remained in his body.

  Mrs Hawker rose to her feet and said; ‘I think we’ve had enough talking for one night. Perhaps you can give the gentlemen a brandy, Mr Maggs.’

  ‘There’s whisky in the decanter there, gentlemen, and you can help yourself, but I generally abstains from the stuff.’

  Then you can show me the rooms and where you keep your spare bedding,’ Mrs Hawker said, ‘and I’ll make up the beds for everyone. You’ll pardon me for saying so, but your home lacks a woman’s touch, Mr Maggs, and that’s what I intend to give it tomorrow. But for now we all need our rest.’

  ‘I’ll give you a hand, Missus,’ Charlie said.

  Chapter 19

  When she woke, Belle had little comprehension of when she had drifted into sleep, nor for how long she had slept. She sat up in bed and looked immediately towards Jenny and Molly. ‘You should have woken me,’ she said.

  ‘You were exhausted,’ Jenny replied.

  ‘And so must you be … How is Molly?’

  ‘Little changed, but at least she seems no worse.’

  ‘Let me take her for a while,’ Belle said, getting off the bed and walking towards them.

  ‘I would be grateful.’ Jenny kissed Molly’s forehead before passing her to Belle. She rubbed the arm in which she had been holding her daughter and then her shoulder. ‘I think I have caught a chill in my bones from the open window.’

  ‘Do you think the cool night air has helped Molly?’

  ‘I can’t say. But she has slept well. Whenever she’s started coughing I’ve woken her and given her a few sips of water.’

  ‘I think she is breathing a little easier,’ Belle lied. The girl sounded much the same, but Jenny smiled in response. ‘Lay down for a while, and I will tell you all that happened today.’ It was obvious that Jenny needed little persuasion and as Belle began the story, she collapsed onto the bed. Belle spoke quietly, describing first her walk to Queen Square in immense and slow detail. When she looked up she could see that it had had the desired effect, Jenny was already asleep. Belle stopped talking and waited awhile for a response, but none came.

  She bent close to Molly then and continued her story, whispering softly. ‘I helped a gentleman today, who came to my rescue once, when no one else would help. He is more handsome than I remembered him.’ She paused, smiling for a moment at Molly, checking that she was still fast asleep. ‘He was very much afraid today, although he tried not to show it, and in his fear he was still concerned for the others around him.’ She smiled to herself, gently caressing Molly’s cheek and forehead. ‘I know he would care very much if he were to see you like this, Molly. I would like to help him, as I would like to help you, but yet I feel powerless to help either of you.’


  Molly coughed, but did not stir. Belle looked over towards Jenny, but she was still sleeping soundly. She manoeuvred Molly gently into the crook of the opposite arm and kissed her forehead.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  James woke early that morning, uncertain whether it was the pain or some bad dream that had awoken him. As he struggled to dress himself, the reality of his situation swept through his mind in ice-cold waves. Piece by piece, he understood his circumstances in all their starkness. He had ended the life of another human being. He now had powerful, ruthless enemies who wished him dead, and who had already tried twice to kill him. They had driven him from his home, from his friends, from his possessions, from his livelihood, and from his place in society. He was now running for his life, unsure of where was safe, whom he could trust, and who might betray him. His debtors too were pursuing him but he had no money, and without his employment, he had no means of making any. The estates in Ireland were failing, and his brother was desperate for help which he was unable to provide.

  With each thought, everything he had once accepted as real seemed to crumble around him. There were only two courses of action open to him now. He could give in, or he could fight, but to give in, to despair, he knew would achieve nothing. It was far better now to take responsibility for his life and fight, no matter how uneven the odds; besides there were others to think of: Mrs Hawker, and his brother, and Sean, and now John and Charlie. In truth there could be only one choice. He would try to make amends for what he had done, and for letting down those that were closest to him, and he would somehow take on Nathaniel Caine, no matter how the odds were stacked against him. After all, he had nothing more now to lose, except his life.

  When he went out into the hallway, the house in The Paragon was full of the smell of polish and black lead. Mrs Hawker had been true to her word. It was obvious to James that she had risen early that morning and begun her assault on the drawing room. He found himself suddenly smiling when he saw the three places set at the long, polished oak table in the dining room.

  A few minutes later Mrs Hawker came in with John and Charlie, both carrying trays. ‘You’ll have to make do with ham, eggs and toast. There’s very little in the kitchen, and I will need some money if I am to go shopping,’ she said.

  ‘I have no money,’ James replied. ‘And it might be better if you stayed in the house. You might be recognised and followed and we cannot afford to be discovered so soon.’

  ‘But none of these scoundrels knows me.’

  ‘Don’t you go worrying yourself, Mrs Hawker,’ Charlie said, as he put his tray in the centre of the table. ‘You tell me what you need, and I’ll go and fetch it all after breakfast.’

  ‘I’ll make some sense of that kitchen then,’ Mrs Hawker replied. ‘I’ll need some more cleaning things as well as food.’ She turned to James as she was leaving. ‘Just ask John if you need some help cutting your food up.’

  James smiled, and waited for her to close the door before turning to the others. ‘I’ve been thinking, gentlemen, and I’ll be frank with you. My first inclination was to get far away from Bath, but I know that Caine will not let this rest. If he cannot kill me, he will hurt those close to me. If I run, I would always be afraid that some day he would track me down. I am determined not to let my fear rule me, and since I will not run, and I cannot hide for ever, so I must fight him. I may not be able to defeat Caine, but perhaps I can make his life troublesome for a while and hopefully distract him from more vulnerable targets.’

  ‘That’s the second fine speech I’ve heard in as many days,’ Charlie interrupted. ‘But I know Nathaniel Caine and the Cockroad gang. He will do things to achieve his ends as even I wouldn’t contemplate doing, let alone a fine gentleman like yourself.’

  James grinned. ‘Don’t defeat me before I begin. I know all too well that Caine is strong, and that I am not, but I would rather not accept defeat quite so readily, as though I stand no chance.’

  ‘You said I, not we,’ Charlie replied. ‘Why do you assume as you’re on your own? You’ve helped me in the past, so it seems only fair that I try to help you now. Why do you think I took you in?’

  ‘You’ve helped enough already, Charlie,’ James replied.

  ‘I’ll be the judge of that, young ‘un,’ Charlie barked back.

  James was lost for words and the room fell silent for a moment. Then John cleared his throat noisily, as though needing to fill the silence, and spoke. ‘We do have something in our favour. While we remain hidden, we have power. We know who our enemy is, and where they are. They’ve no idea, for the moment, where we are, or even whether you’re still alive, James. They’ll find it difficult fighting an enemy they can’t see.’

  ‘I thought you would be leaving,’ James said. ‘I will not see either of you risking yourselves for me.’

  John laughed. ‘What and miss a good fight? No, I’m staying. I think you probably need a couple of friends right now. I know my way about, and Charlie obviously has skills that can be put to use. If we lack strength in numbers, that’s how it is. There are always those who’ll fight for the right price.’

  ‘You don’t know how Caine fights,’ Charlie said, ‘and those who sell their fists will like as not change sides for a better price. You can’t trust them.’

  ‘I know more than you think,’ John replied. ‘And I know very well that we are outnumbered.’

  James’ mind spun in a frenzy as if a new sense of purpose had begun to displace the fear that he had been battling. ‘I still have some friends and perhaps connections that I can call upon. There may be a way we can address the imbalance of power, but we would need money and I have none.’

  ‘I don’t have very much,’ Charlie replied, stroking his chin. ‘But as you know, I has certain skills that can make us money. Seeing you with your arm bound up puts me in mind of something we can try, but it’ll need some preparing.’

  ‘I know that I cannot take the Cockroad gang on alone, James said. ‘But I cannot ask you to risk your lives.’ He hesitated, trying to work out the implications, and when he spoke again it was almost as though he was talking to himself. ‘We would need to trust each other, as we have never trusted before’

  ‘You are not alone. There are three of us,’ Charlie said. Then he smiled, ‘And we have Mrs Hawker on our side. Just rest now and build your strength for what’s coming.’

  James looked at the other two. At least for a while he was not alone. How long they would help him, how far he could trust them, he could not tell, but it did not seem to matter now. They had already given him more than he had any right to expect, and he felt stronger for it. Patience and strategy were what mattered.

  ‘If we confronted him now,’ James said, ‘Caine would wipe us out without giving it a thought, but if we dictate the terms of engagement, we can give him a contest. We have to play the long game; take no risks. We can’t meet him head on; so we light a fire over here to distract him, and while he tends to that, we go around the other way and catch him unawares. We’ll play him like a game of chess, Charlie, always planning at least one move ahead.’

  Chapter 20

  Belle watched as Jenny stirred and then woke. It was mid-morning. Jenny immediately rose from the bed and rushed over to the window where Belle was sitting with Molly in her arms. ‘How is she now?’ she asked.

  Belle stood slowly, aware of an ache deep in her back, and offered Molly to her mother. Jenny took her into her arms but Molly showed no signs of stirring. ‘Her face feels so cold,’ Jenny said, the anxiety all too plain in her voice as she sat by the still-open window.

  Belle leant forward and felt Molly’s forehead. ‘She does feel cold,’ she said, ‘but it’s only to be expected and there’s no perspiration.’ She moved her hand slowly under Molly’s nose, fearing the worst for a moment and then smiled. ‘Her breathing is stronger,’ she said. This time it was not a lie. Molly’s breathing was stronger.

  Belle stretched, shrugging off her exhaustion, and looked
around the room. Jenny’s faceless drawings, pinned about the wall, danced in and out of the corners of her gaze, as though they had come to life. Belle tried to focus weary eyes and looked down at the two of them sitting by the window, watching in delight as Molly opened her eyes and freed a hand from the blanket, then reached out and touched Jenny’s nose with her fingers. ‘Molly cold,’ she said. ‘Drink please.’

  Jenny laughed and covered Molly’s face with kisses. ‘I’ll fetch a drink now,’ she said, standing and handing her back to Belle. The girl was still pale and her body felt weak, yet Belle could see there was a change in Molly. She hugged the little girl to her and spun around in celebration. ‘Slowly now, Belle,’ Jenny said, fussing around them with a broad grin on her face, ‘you don’t want to make her sick again.’

  ‘I feel suddenly hungry,’ Belle said.

  ‘Shall I make us some breakfast?’ Jenny asked.

  ‘No, I’ll do it, and I’ll fetch a drink first for Molly,’ Belle said, knowing that it was what Jenny had wanted her to say. ‘You spend some time with Molly. She is still very weak.’ Belle felt her own strength draining away. In the course of two days she had seen two people close to the point of death. Most of the night she had been preparing herself for Molly’s passing, rehearsing how she would console Jenny, practising being strong for the two of them. But she knew she wasn’t that strong, and now all she wanted to do was to cry with happiness and let the pain out.

  In the kitchen she let her tears flow, great sobs wracking her body, but when she could cry no more she was conscious of a new strength. The happiness of the moment washed over her like a warm summer shower. She felt strong; stronger than any of those who might wish to crush her spirit.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  ‘What do I do, now that I am a prisoner?’ James asked. ‘There’s a limit to the time I can spend resting. How do I occupy my mind?’

  Charlie looked up from across the room, his face confused. ‘Should we have a game of chess?’ he asked. ‘I have newspapers, a copy of the Bible, somewhere, young’un, but no other books as I remember.’