by Joan Lock
‘Mind you do,’ she said. ‘Bring that lady friend of yours as well, and’ – she finished hopefully – ‘your wee ones as they arrive.’
‘I will, I will,’ he promised, equally hopefully.
‘Children catch infectious diseases,’ said Helen, gripping the arms of her chair. ‘You know that.’
Best did, only too well. His young sister Katie had died of measles and his little brother Harry had almost succumbed to diphtheria.
‘But he wouldn’t have got it if you hadn’t sent him away!’ he raged. Joseph had caught scarlet fever from little Edward, his best friend. Edward had survived.
‘You proposed to keep Joseph away from other children indefinitely?’
‘He was weak after the accident and still pining for his mother.’
‘All the more reason he should go to Matilda’s. He was happy there,’ she insisted. ‘He was getting better every day just being with those other children. You should have seen him last time … ’
Best brushed her words away with a violent gesture. ‘I never will now, will I?’ he exclaimed. ‘I never will!’
He knew he was being unreasonable, holding her responsible for life’s injustices. But he couldn’t help himself.
She sat impassively for a moment, then said quietly, ‘He was very fond of you but you weren’t here.’
There was a tap on the door.
‘Come in, my dear,’ said Helen.
A girl entered, carrying a tea tray. A young girl about five months pregnant. ‘Hello, Mr Best!’ she exclaimed, enjoying his astonishment.
‘Hello Jessie,’ he replied, pulling himself together sufficiently to smile at her. ‘This is a nice surprise!’
She grinned, pleased with herself. She put the tray down carefully, then began to serve them with great concentration but much rattling of cups and saucers. She already looked so much happier and healthier. The bruises were fading and the lips almost healed.
‘Mrs Briggs will be retiring soon and Jessie is taking her place,’ said Helen when Jessie had gone.
Best cleared his throat. ‘And what about her baby?’
‘Oh, she’ll keep it here,’ said Helen nonchalantly. ‘It was the least I could do.’
So this child could stay but Joseph couldn’t and had died as a result.
‘She’s a bright girl,’ Helen continued unknowingly. ‘I’m going to teach her to read and write – and maybe even to paint.’ Best said nothing, but thought, well at least she’s softened that much. But it was no good, it wasn’t enough.
‘Another thing,’ said Helen, smiling slightly, her head coquettishly on one side. ‘I think it’s time we got married, don’t you? Jessie is young enough to help with any children and—’
‘Go to h—’ Best stopped himself and got to his feet. She was frowning now and gazing up at him quizzically. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said, looking her straight in the eye before adding quietly, ‘it’s too late.’
He turned and walked out.
When he reached the pavement outside, he noticed with a sort of pleasure how the low, wintry sun was glancing cheerfully off the windows opposite – and he felt the pronounced nip in the air. He should have worn his overcoat. Never mind. He smiled to himself. He was going back to work with his colleagues but at a higher rank, which meant new responsibilities an d challenges. It was time to start anew in other ways. His old optimism was returning. Life was going to get better. He was free and it felt good.
When he reached the corner he tried to resist looking back at the house, but couldn’t help himself. She had always stood at the window to wave him off, but this time she wasn’t there.
POSTSCRIPT
On 14 November 1878, the Coroner’s Jury at the inquest on the collision between the Princess Alice and the Bywell Castle, found that William Beachey, a stockbroker’s clerk, aged 46 years, and others, had died of drowning after the collision – which had not been wilful. His being the first body to be recovered, he represented the 640 ‘others’ now believed lost, although the final figure was never established. Four bodies had been found naked, in an advanced state of putrefaction and in mysterious circumstances. Theirs was a mystery which was never solved.
As for who was to blame for the accident – opinions differed. The inquest jury thought the Bywell Castle largely responsible for not easing, stopping and reversing her engines in time but felt that the Princess Alice contributed by not going astern and stopping. She also carried more passengers than was prudent.
The Board of Trade Enquiry and Court of Admiralty both put the blame on the Princess Alice who should have ported her helm on seeing the other vessel. Further, she had been navigated in a careless and reckless manner but, they felt, the numbers she carried were not excessive for such a craft.
All agreed, however, on the inadequacy of the life-saving equipment on board the pleasure craft but found that, despite accusations to the contrary, the boat was not too lightly constructed for her purpose. Indeed, one expert declared that even the Great Eastern, the heaviest iron merchant ship then in existence, could not have withstood the impact.
Attention was also drawn to the lack of navigational discipline among Thames traffic, the disgusting state of the water at the impact site, and the fact that loss of life would have been less had the boat not sank so quickly and more passengers been able to swim.
Three days after the last of these findings came the death of the woman after whom the ill-fated pleasure steamer had been named. Princess Alice was Queen Victoria’s second daughter and wife of the Grand Duke of Hesse-Darmstadt. All of her six children had caught diphtheria and one of them, Princess Mary, had died in consequence.
Fearing the loss of her only son, Ernest, the princess kissed and comforted him – and contracted the disease herself. She succumbed on 14 December – the same date that her father, Prince Albert, had passed away seventeen years earlier. The other children survived. One of these, Princess Victoria, named her daughter Alice. She was to become the mother of Prince Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh.
Queen Victoria was devastated by Princess Alice’s death but thought it ‘almost incredible and most mysterious’ that the loving daughter had been ‘called back’ on that particular day to the father she had tended on his deathbed.
By the same author
Non-Fiction
Lady Policeman
Reluctant Nightingale
The British Policewoman: Her Story
Marlborough Street: The Story of a London Court
Tales from Bow Street
Blue Murder? Policemen Under Suspicion
Dreadful Deeds and Awful Murders: Scotland Yard’s First Detectives 1829–1878
Scotland Yard Casebook: The Making of the CID 1865–1935
Fiction
Dead Image
Death in Perspective
Dead Letters
Dead End
Dead Fall
Dead Loss
Dead Centre
Copyright
First published by Robert Hale 2001
The History Press
The Mill, Brimscombe Port
Stroud, Gloucestershire, GL5 2QG
www.thehistorypress.co.uk
This ebook edition first published by The Mystery Press in 2013
All rights reserved
© Joan Lock 2001, 2013
The right of Joan Lock to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
EPUB IS
BN 978 0 7524 8932 2
MOBI ISBN 978 0 7524 8931 5
Original typesetting by The History Press
Ebook compilation by RefineCatch Limited, Bungay, Suffolk
