Avon Street

by Paul Emanuelli

  ‘But I’d take only the best women,’ Jenny said, as though she were justifying a good heart. ‘And we’d teach apprentices properly, not just take their money and treat them like dogsbodies.’

  Belle said nothing, but simply watched the transformation. Jenny’s excitement was obvious now, as though in her mind the shop was already there; the fitting rooms occupied, the workroom busy and productive, bolts of material being delivered. ‘I take it you are in favour of the idea?’ Belle eventually said.

  ‘What if I make a mess of it?’ Jenny asked. ‘I’m no businesswoman.’

  ‘You could estimate the price of any dress on sale in Milsom Street without reading it first, and you know what to pay for any piece of material, and how to cut it to produce the most, and how to use every last remnant.’ Belle said, but she still felt Jenny’s nagging uncertainty and self-doubt. ‘Besides,’ she went on, ‘what would I lose if it failed; six month’s rental of premises, the cost of the materials and the cost of a few months’ wages. I have that now, and if you succeed, which you will, we would both stand to make a great deal more. I’d rather risk my money on you than on investments that I do not understand, and that go towards making someone else rich.’

  Jenny had that faraway look again, planning and thinking and dreaming; any thoughts of failure were dispersing in a flurry of excitement. When she eventually spoke it was as much to herself as to Belle. ‘We would not be a first-rate house, not at the beginning,’ she said. ‘Court dresses and outfits for the very rich means having them looking down on you, and buying expensive materials, and having more girls in the shop than we have making the dresses. But neither would we be third- or fourth-rate common shops. Our dresses will be silk, not cotton and they will be finished as finely as any court dress. We will buy in the skirts; making them takes little skill and yet a great deal of time – but we will make the bodices and sleeves and do all the fitting and alterations ourselves. We shall sell to the doctors’ and lawyers’ wives and the daughters of wealthy shopkeepers and factory owners; and our dresses will be so fine that the rich women will come begging us to serve them.’

  ‘I take it your answer is yes?’ Belle said, aware that she was interrupting Jenny’s reverie.

  ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ Jenny said.

  ‘Then you stop taking in work from today,’ Belle said. ‘You must make contact with the girls you plan to employ, and plan your designs, and then we need to start looking for a shop. We will buy outfits suitable for ladies of business, and they will be the last dresses we ever buy from anyone but ourselves.’

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  Drawn by the insistent sound of knocking on the front door, James ran to the drawing room window. John was expected back at any time, but looking down he saw that it was Sean Brennan that Mrs Hawker was admitting. James smiled as he ran to the stairs.

  He felt in an optimistic mood and seeing Sean made his spirits rise further. Monday’s paper had contained letters from Lady Nayland and Mr Mayhew complaining that the city was no longer safe for women. Both blamed the attitude of the constabulary and both hinted at corruption in the force in Avon Street. James had penned his anonymous letter to the chief constable, listing the names of the constables in Caine’s pay earlier that morning, and Charlie had already had it delivered.

  By the time Sean had removed his coat James had run down the stairs to join him. ‘Come into the dining room,’ he said, trying to hide the pleasure he felt at the prospect of presenting Sean with the money.

  Sean’s face was serious and he barely glanced at the money on the table. ‘I had a visit yesterday from Harry Wood,’ he said.

  ‘Were you attacked?’ James asked.

  ‘No, he came into the confessional, as if he was a parishioner. He made no threats, not at first. He claimed he was acting alone, without Caine’s knowledge.’

  ‘I presume he had not come to confess his sins,’ James said, his stomach tensing.

  ‘He said that he knew I was your friend and that since you were in Bath, I would know where you were hiding. He asked me to deliver a message to you. But how did he know you were in Bath?’

  ‘I made a stupid error of judgement,’ James said, ‘but never mind that now. I’m worried for you, Sean. You must be alert. If Wood can get to you, then so could Caine, now that he knows I am in Bath.’

  ‘Caine has always known how to get to me. I don’t hide from him. But he knows me well enough to understand that I would never reveal your whereabouts. Besides we’re two different problems to him. You, he wants to kill. Me, he only wants to intimidate.’ He laughed, but there was no humour in the sound. ‘At least for the moment, he’s scared to take my life because it might start a war. I just hope he doesn’t know that I’m as afraid of causing a war as he is. Bad people always seem to think that everyone else thinks as they do.’

  ‘You know your enemy well, but take care,’ James said. ‘What was the message Wood left?’

  ‘He said he would meet you on the path beneath Pulteney Bridge at dusk, in three days time. He wants to meet you face to face, to fight a duel with you.’

  ‘It might be a ruse,’ James said, ‘a way of tracking us down.’

  ‘That’s why I left it for a day,’ Sean said. ‘I know I was not followed here; I’ve been around Avon Street long enough to know if I am being followed. I believe he wants this kept between you and him. He’s not interested in the others.’

  ‘We should have moved,’ James said. ‘I knew it, yet I did nothing. Caine will track us down eventually and I cannot let Mrs Hawker and Charlie suffer for my stupidity.’

  ‘Will you leave Bath?’ Sean asked.

  ‘No,’ James replied. ‘We will leave this house though. We have been here too long and there have been too many comings and goings. But Wood will have his duel.’

  ‘He said you should bring duelling swords, so that he should end your life in the same way as you ended his brother’s, and that you should bring a second with you, as witness, and no one else.’

  The challenge felt inevitable to James, as though he had always sensed its coming. There was only one way in which his fight with Wood could end. ‘Your visit was fortuitous, Sean,’ he said, crossing to the dining table. ‘This money is for you. At least some good can come from all of this.’ He smiled as he watched Sean’s bewildered gaze.

  ‘I could buy half of Avon Street with this,’ Sean said. ‘Where does it come from?’

  ‘We robbed Frank Harcourt. It was he who betrayed me to Caine,’ James replied. ‘Charlie and John and I want you to accept half of what we took from him, so that you can do some good with it. It’s dirty money. Harcourt’s been in league with Caine for some time now. The other smaller pile on the table is my share from the robbery and I want you to get it to my brother. He can use it to make good the tenants’ debts and invest in the estate.’

  ‘So you are a robber now?’ Sean said, smiling. ‘I won’t pretend that the money isn’t welcome, because it is.’

  ‘It’s all blood money, but hopefully you can wash it clean. I have tried not to act like Caine in fighting him, but it is difficult.’

  ‘You should go to Ireland, James,’ Sean said. ‘Take the money to your brother and stay there for a while. I can loosen Caine’s grip on Avon Street with this, but I don’t want to see you die for it. Go while you still have your life.’

  ‘What time did he specify we meet?’ James asked.

  ‘He said at dusk, but I wish now I had never told you.’

  ‘What else did he say?’

  ‘The rest was just ranting; threats and name calling.’

  ‘Did he threaten you?’

  ‘No,’ Sean said.

  His response was too quick. ‘You never could lie to me.’

  ‘I can look after myself.’

  ‘I know,’ James said. ‘And I will do the same. I’ll not run and leave this mess for everyone else to clear up. It was you who reminded me of who I used to be. I’ve found a sense of honour again, and I do not intend
to lose it.’

  ‘God might not approve of this type of honour. Turn the other cheek, James.’

  ‘Wood won’t let me turn the other cheek, and if he can’t get to me, he will take it out on others.’ James did not wait for a reply for fear that Sean would counter. ‘Do you think Caine is involved in this?’

  ‘I can’t be sure, but I believe Wood is acting on his own behalf.’

  ‘Fetch your coat,’ James said, ‘I’ll bundle this money for you to take, and I’ll write the address we are to move to. Take care of Mrs Hawker, if you do not find me there after my meeting with Wood.’

  ‘I’ll pray for you, James.’

  ‘Just make sure you’re not robbed going through town and get this money safely into a bank and be watchful.’

  ‘Please thank the others,’ Sean said. ‘This is more money than I ever thought I might have. It will be put to good use. Do not doubt it. And please think again of going to Ireland. You do not have to do this. It is wrong.’

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  It was some time before John arrived back at the house, later than James had expected. Charlie joined them in the drawing room and James was glad of the company, hoping they might free him from his thoughts, though he knew they would not like what he had to tell them. He relayed quickly what had happened and asked John if he would act as his second. John agreed as he knew he would.

  ‘You can get out of this, if you wait,’ John said. ‘Caine’s got some housebreakings planned with Harcourt. It’s likely that Wood or Caine himself will lead them, and Jeb is willing to rat on them. All we need do is inform the peelers.’

  James laughed. ‘If only it had happened sooner,’ he said. ‘I never thought we could get to Caine as easily as this.’

  ‘We shouldn’t trust Jeb,’ Charlie said.

  ‘We can in this,’ John replied. ‘Jeb wants to be free of Caine and Harry Wood and he hates Harcourt. This is his way of getting rid of them and taking over the gang.’

  ‘I don’t much like it,’ Charlie said. ‘I’ve never ratted on anyone to the peelers.’

  ‘Caine had no honour when he left your apprentice to the hangman,’ John said. ‘Or in the way he’s treated others.’

  ‘I suppose not,’ Charlie relented, ‘and if it gets James out of having to fight Harry Wood then it’s worth it.’

  ‘No, Charlie,’ James said. ‘It’s worth doing it if it puts Caine behind bars, because he deserves justice, but I’ll not put off the duel in the hope that Harry Wood is caught. It’s a coward’s way out; another way of running. I caused all that has happened and I will finish it.’

  ‘Caine rarely does his own dirty work these days,’ Charlie said. ‘He’ll not go out on the job.’

  ‘If he doesn’t have Harry Wood, then he might have to,’ James said, ‘and if Wood wins, then you must continue the fight against him without me.’

  ‘We will,’ Charlie conceded. ‘We’ll tell the peelers, but let’s have no talk of you dying young ‘un.’

  ‘There is something else we need to do.’ James paused, cursing his own stupidity, knowing that what he was about to suggest would hurt Charlie. ‘We need to move from here, before the duel.’

  ‘You told me you’d put the other night behind you,’ Charlie said. ‘I promised you would never see me drunk again. I swore it, and I meant it.’

  ‘It’s not because of you, Charlie,’ James smiled. ‘That incident is forgotten and I would prefer it to remain so. The truth, as you can see, is that Caine knows now that I am in Bath, and it’s through my own stupid arrogance that he knows it. I asked John to leave my visiting card at Harcourt’s house.’

  ‘But we weren’t to know that Harcourt was in league with Caine,’ John interrupted.

  ‘Nevertheless there is only one day before I meet Wood,’ James said. ‘For your sake, Charlie, I will not risk Caine finding me here on that day.’

  ‘What’s a day matter?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘We should have left straight after robbing Harcourt,’ James replied. ‘What if Caine should link your name with the robbery, Charlie? And if I survive, then won’t Caine double his efforts to find me and link our names in his search? It would be best that we were away from here. I will not put you in danger, Charlie, for my stupid error.’

  ‘I should have thought of it myself,’ Charlie said, ‘when we realised as Harcourt was in it with Caine. You’re right; Caine will think of me.’ The realisation was clear in his face, but whether his reaction was fear or anger was hard to tell. ‘But Caine knows I don’t work anymore,’ Charlie resumed. ‘You’re worrying for nothing.’

  ‘Perhaps so,’ James replied. ‘But if we leave I will feel safer for us all.’

  ‘I’ll not be pushed out of my home by Caine,’ Charlie said.

  ‘I half expected you might say as much, Charlie,’ James replied. ‘The decision must be yours. I would like you to come with us, but if you don’t, at least you will be safer with us gone. There will be nothing to link you to me or to the robbery. If I survive the duel then we will still go on to fight Caine together, but not from here.’ James paused, trying to assess his reaction, but the man’s expression gave little away other than his determination. ‘Mrs Hawker and I will move tonight. We will take provisions with us and we will not leave the new house until I attend the duel. In that way Mrs Hawker will be safe and so will you, Charlie.’

  ‘Where will you go?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘Richard’s taken a house for us in Walcot Parade. It’s not as prominent as The Paragon and new tenants will raise little interest in such a busy street. Will you both come with us?’ James asked.

  ‘Of course,’ John replied, ‘I’m your second. We’ll need to prepare for your meeting with Harry Wood.’

  They both looked at Charlie. ‘It doesn’t sit easy with me,’ Charlie said, ‘none of it. I’ll not move from my own house. I can see why you’re doing it, but I don’t care for the idea at all.’

  ‘Think it over, Charlie,’ James said. ‘Tom’s coming for us with a cab in about two hour’s time.’

  Chapter 32

  James slept badly that night, his dreams full of death. Faceless bodies mocked him from every nightmare, contemptuous laughter ringing in his ears as he ran, or tried to run; his legs always weak, his feet sucked down in a quagmire from which he could not escape. He kicked out and punched in his sleep, but his every movement was slow and drained of energy. The sheets and blankets wrapped themselves around his limbs in dream knots and shrouds. Each time he woke, he was glad to leave the dreams behind him, and yet each time he dozed it was only to relive his death again.

  In the end he gave up and dressed and went downstairs. The house in Walcot Parade was comfortable enough, though not expensively furnished. He sat in a chair in the drawing room between bouts of pacing. The room was freshly decorated and the smell of fresh paint still hung listlessly in the air.

  John joined him an hour or so later. He smiled and looked around the room. ‘This will do us for a while,’ he said, stretching out on the chaise longue.

  ‘Assuming I’m still here,’ James said.

  ‘Of course you’ll still be here,’ John replied.

  James rose and crossed to the window. He found himself thinking of Belle and that he might never see her again. She had looked hurt when they last parted, when he told her not to return. Yet he could not ask her to risk her life for him. He pictured her face, smiling and comforting, and he wished that things were different, that he could somehow re-shape the past, but what was done could not be undone.

  Then despite himself, he thought of them together; Belle and Harcourt. He did not want to, but the thought kept returning and each time it came back, it hurt a little more. He wanted to write to her, to tell her how he felt, but each sentence he composed in his mind led to others that he knew would only cause her sadness. It was best left like this. He wandered out of the room without a word to John and went down to the kitchen.

  Downstairs a smiling Mrs Hawker gr
eeted him, by now used to seeing him there, though he had rarely visited the kitchen in his own home. He had told John and Charlie that she should know nothing of the pending duel. James walked over and hugged her large frame.

  ‘What’s all this about?’ Mrs Hawker asked, smiling whilst freeing a hand to pinch James on his arm. He knew then that she suspected nothing.

  ‘You’ve been a better mother to me than I could ever have hoped for,’ James said.

  ‘And will continue to be so for a good time yet, God willing,’ she replied. Small diamond tears glistened at the corners of her eyes. She turned away and dabbed at them with her apron. ‘Now stop this silly talk and sit yourself down and I’ll make you breakfast. It’s lonely in the kitchen without Charlie. I miss the old fool.’

  ‘I tried to persuade him to come with us,’ James said.

  ‘I know it,’ Mrs Hawker replied. ‘He’s a stubborn old fool and set in his ways, but I still miss him, for all that.’

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  James went back to his room and took out the letters; the last of the three bundles that John had taken from Harcourt’s safe, the only ones he had not returned. It was too late now to deal with them properly. If he survived then he would deliver them; if not then they should be destroyed.

  He decided that he would leave them for John to deal with and bound them in a sheet of paper, writing on the front, ‘To John – I apologise for leaving this task to you, but on your honour I ask that you burn these letters unopened, should I not return.’ He sipped his coffee with a momentary sense of relief and then took the silver chain from around his neck. He lowered it slowly into his palm like a gentle waterfall of quicksilver, feeling the links cascading together. Letting it slide into the package he added a postscript to the note. ‘Please deliver the enclosed chain to Miss Bennett and tell her that I hope it brings her good fortune and that she will think of me from time to time.’ Outside he heard footsteps approaching. He placed the package inside the desk and closed it quickly.