‘The interview room is in use,’ he said. ‘Will you wait?’
‘No. I shall see Mr Hawkins in his cell.’
‘Are you sure, Sir?’
‘Enjoy your job do you…?’ James studied his uniform, ‘officer one-seventy?’ He noted the number. ‘Happy for the income?’
‘It’s cell eight.’ The guard was as rattled as the keys he carried as he led James to the door. ‘I won’t lock you in.’
Yesterday, James had nearly been sick when he saw Silas, today he expected the same rush of despair, but, to his surprise, he found himself collected and focused. The weight of failure hung above him rather than pressed down, and by concentrating on the ball he was currently juggling and not Archer’s pursuit, he was able to square his shoulders and enter the cell with confidence.
Silas stood facing the wall at the back of the dank, dimly lit cell with his hands on his head.
‘Visitor,’ the guard barked and slammed the door with more than the necessary force.
‘It’s me.’ James put his bag on the floor.
Silas’ arms dropped, and he turned. A bandage across one side of his head, clean and neatly tied, suggested Doctor Markland had visited. The visible eye and the faint smile showed he was not as crushed as he had been, and when James hugged him, he returned the gesture.
‘I’m alone,’ James said. ‘How are you?’
‘Been worse, been better. Definitely better, but not as bad now you’re here. Where’s Archie?’
James let him go. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Still don’t know, but we’re working on it.’ He had to keep it vague and not allow Archer’s juggling-ball to come into play for fear of dropping both.
He glanced around the cell, appalled.
‘Has that not been emptied?’ he said, pointing to the half-full slop-pot. ‘And do you have water?’
Silas answered no to both.
‘Right!’ James not only wore the viscount’s clothes, but he also adopted his attitude.
Marching to the door and throwing it open, he shouted, ‘Officer one-seventy!’ and brought the man hurrying.
As the guard arrived, he was confronted with the slop-pot and drew back.
‘Quite,’ James said with disdain. ‘Empty and clean that, and return immediately with fresh water and a bowl.’ He shut the door against the man’s bewilderment and turned to Silas, grinning. ‘I could get used to this.’
Silas slumped on the bench that served as his bed, and James flew to sit beside him and take his hand.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t think. This is not a game, mate. I shouldn’t treat it as one.
‘It’s all a game, Jimmy,’ Silas sighed. ‘I just want to know who’s playing it.’
‘Quill. But we are working on that.’
‘How?’
James sidestepped his mistake. ‘By persuading you to tell the truth.’
‘No.’
‘Even if you confess, Creswell can do something.’
‘Yeah, and I can do two years hard labour.’
‘Not necessarily.’ James knew he could also do much worse.
‘If that’s all you came for,’ Silas said, moving away. ‘You might as well fuck off.’
‘I ain’t fucking off anywhere,’ James retaliated with as much force. ‘I’m going to do anything and everything to get you out.’ He slid along the boards until their shoulders were touching. ‘I know I can’t persuade you, and I don’t want to, but I have to tell Creswell that I at least tried. He’s upstairs working on your case, and he says he needs Archer, so I’ll be working on that later.’
‘Archer, why?’
‘As a character witness,’ James explained. ‘Better would be as your alibi.’
‘He won’t lie under oath. Feck it, he won’t lie full stop. It’s better he ain’t here.’
James changed the subject. ‘So,’ he said, shaking Silas’ knee. ‘How was Doctor Markland?’
‘Same as always. Confused about who he wants to shag, disgusted at what’s going on, offering to do everything he could, generally being nice. He patched me up, shouted at the guard, said he would put in a complaint, blah blah. Decent bloke.’
The guard returned, banging his keys on the metal doorplate before entering. He thrust the slop-pot towards Silas, who had automatically stood to face the wall, but James took it.
‘Put the water over there,’ he said as he examined the pot. It wasn’t as well attended to as Thomas would have expected, but they were hardly in the same situation.
The guard placed a water jug and bowl on the shelf that served as a table and asked, with more than a hint of sarcasm, ‘Will there be anything else, My Lord?’
‘Only a little courtesy to a man whose taxes pay your wages. Out!’
The guard growled his way from the cell, but closed the door cautiously as James brought his bag to the shelf and unpacked.
‘Mrs Norwood made you these,’ he said, producing a cake, pies and sandwiches. ‘Some fruit… I brought you a clean pair of underwear, a shirt, socks… Scarf.’ He placed the items on the bench. ‘Oh, a couple of Archer’s novels and this new thing. It’s called National Geographic, only came out a couple of months ago. Thought you might need the distraction. And then this…’ He took out Silas’ shaving kit.
‘Oh, come on, Jimmy!’ Silas said. ‘What you doing?’
‘Over here.’ James dragged the only chair to the shelf. ‘Sit, Sir.’
‘Give over.’
‘Mr Hawkins, may I remind you that I am still your footman and your valet. It is after eleven in the morning, and you are unshaven.’
As Silas rolled his eyes, he gave away a faint smile and did as he was told while James dug for a towel and a small mirror. Having poured water into the bowl, and noticing it was warm, he balanced the mirror on the jug and aligned it so he could see Silas’ reflection. He placed the towel around his master’s neck and tilted his head to the correct angle. Silas’ flesh was creeping purple from under the bandage. James would have to work carefully.
‘Sorry I told you to fuck off, Jimmy.’
‘Quite understandable, Sir.’
‘You’re the only mate I’ve got.’
‘Not exactly true, Mr Hawkins. I just happen to be the only one available.’
‘What’s Archer doing? Where is he?’
‘I intend to find out. Now then, how was your night’s sleep, Sir?’ James asked, the way he did every morning, hoping the routine would bring Silas some security.
‘Had better. Yours?’
‘Acceptable. You will be pleased to hear the weather is clearing.’ He’d hardly noticed the weather, but now he thought of it, it wasn’t as cold and there had been brighter sunlight.
‘Any news, James?’
‘None that you don’t already know, Sir.’ James lathered his face. ‘Tell me if this is uncomfortable.’
‘It’s alright.’ Silas huffed. ‘Oh, I got a new friend. Met him last night. A rat. I called him Charlie after Mr Tripp. Woke up to find him sitting on my chest. At least he was comfortable.’
‘Good to know you’re making friends, Sir.’ James winked in the mirror. ‘We all need them.’
The soap applied, he opened his cut-throat, realigned Silas’ head, and peered over his shoulder to the mirror, their cheeks touching.
‘I reckon I’ve got the best, though’, James whispered. ‘Better than Charlie.’ The razor slid deftly and accurately across the skin. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘I can’t help wondering what I wouldn’t do for my best mate. I’d like to think I had the courage to stay silent or go down, even if it was me up there tomorrow in front of Galloways. Except my heart isn’t as big as… Oi!’
Silas had swung out of the chair away from the blade. He stood facing Ja
mes, one half of his face a bandage, the other a mess of white foam.
‘In front of who?’
‘Judge Galloways,’ James said, closing the razor. ‘Apparently not very nice. Actually, Creswell said…’
‘Galloways?’
‘Yes. Why?’ There was no reply, merely a blank stare. ‘Silas?’
Silas flicked the towel from his shoulders and swept up the foam. ‘Fuck ’em,’ he spat. ‘Fuck ’em all.’
‘Silas? Mate, what is it?’ James stepped to him and took his arm, shaking it to get his attention.
‘I’ve seen him,’ Silas said. ‘Galloways.’
‘Yes, and?’
‘Oh, fecking… Jesus, Mary and…’ Screwing up his fists, a growl rose in his throat and manifested itself as, ‘Shitten-prick, gobshite, arsehole, fecking…’ and a worse word disguised by the sound of the chair flying across the room. He pulled at his hair and crashed onto the bench.
James was at his side in a second. ‘You’ve got to talk to me. How do you know Galloways? Where have you seen him?’
Silas raised his head and fixed James with his good eye. It was hard to tell if he was happy or exasperated.
‘Cleaver Street molly house,’ he said. ‘We’re all fucked.’
Sixteen
The bag was repacked, Silas had been shaved, and James was ready to leave. His mind was racing along a track like a runaway locomotive, and there was a set of points coming up fast. The destinations were unknown, around him was darkness and smoke, ideas throbbed like pistons in his head, his eyes were watering, unable to see the way through a tunnel, and all he knew was that he was running out of time. A decision had to be made.
‘Tell me it again,’ he said, flipping open his book to check his notes. ‘Without the swear words. Only the important facts.’
On the bench, Silas rested against the damp wall with the meagre prison blanket over his knees.
‘If you think it will help, Jimmy,’ he sighed. ‘The night we found Roxton drugged at Cleaver Street…’
‘December the second.’
‘If you say so. I was hiding in a cupboard ’cos someone was coming up the stairs, and Danvers called him Your Honour, like you’d call a judge. “Go right up, Your Honour. He’s waiting”, is what he said. Thought nothing of it, well not much, my mind was on other things.’
‘It was definitely Danvers who said it?’
‘Yeah. Later, after you’d raised the false alarm and sent the place into a panic…’
‘Just the details we need, mate.’
‘Right. I was helping Roxton down the stairs. The renters had scarpered except for one, don’t know his name. As I got Roxton to the bottom of the stairs, he was shoving this half-dressed, flabby-arsed old git through them nancy back curtains…’
‘Was assisting an elderly gentleman to flee,’ James read from his notes. ‘And you hung back so as not to be seen.’
‘You want me to do this?’
‘Go on.’
‘I watched from behind the bannister. As the molly was shoving him through the curtains, I clearly heard him say, “Down the stairs and through the kitchen, Your Honour,” and the flabby-arsed old git said, as clear as I’m saying now, “No titles, imbecile,” and slapped him. I looked then, and the molly-boy said, “Sorry, Mr Galloways.”’
‘And you saw Galloways’ face.’
‘Half a face, it was quick, but I’d recognise him.’
James stared at his book, fighting his rage at the hypocrisy of the man and wondering what he could do with the information.
Silas asked him the same question, and he had to admit he had no idea. He could inform Creswell but doubted he would be prepared to act. Thinking as objectively as he could, he imagined the barrister giving a similar reply as that made by the Home Secretary, “And?”
Judge Galloways was not the man on trial.
‘It’s so bloody unfair,’ he said through gritted teeth.
‘You noticed.’
James was out of his depth. Much as he wanted to stay with Silas, he couldn’t think in that cell. Claustrophobia was closing in, and if he remained there much longer, he would lose focus. Silas’ story hadn’t helped. It made no difference, and all it was doing was cluttering his mind with anger when he should have been thinking of a solution.
‘Here.’ Silas was suddenly in front of him. ‘Just come here a minute, Jimmy.’ He spoke quietly, with sympathy and took James’ arm.
He led him to the bench and sat him down, dragging the chair to sit facing him, he leant in and took James’ hands.
‘Listen, mate,’ he said. ‘That thing I said yesterday, about how you shouldn’t have been with Tommy, and I shouldn’t have been with Archer? Well, forget that. I was in a bad place.’
‘It’s okay,’ James said. He hadn’t exactly forgotten the strange remark, but it had become lost among everything else.
‘I didn’t say things right,’ Silas said. ‘I was only trying to tell you what I think of you and how, if the world had been different, you and I might have met and… You know? We’re closer on the scale than me and a viscount, let’s face it. It would’ve been easy to…’
‘Look, mate,’ James interrupted. ‘You’re intriguing and good looking, you’re funny and daft, and yeah, if I’d met you before I met Tom, who knows? But I can’t think of things like that right now. My head’s full of all this shit, and how we’re going to get you freed.’
‘Yeah, sorry.’ Silas squeezed his hands. ‘It don’t matter if I get done tomorrow. I know you and Tommy will be there when I get out.’
There was a lump in James’ throat. ‘Of course we will,’ he croaked. He screwed up his eyes to dispel an image of a coffin being taken away on a cart. ‘And Archer. But you ain’t going down. The hearing’s at ten. You’ll be out in time for lunch at The Grapevine.’
Silas smiled and nodded, but it was just a cover. ‘He won’t be there,’ he said. ‘And in a funny way, I’m glad.’
‘How could you possibly be glad?’
‘If he was here now, he’d be persuading me to tell them what I know. Where we were that night. He’d expect me to be honest and wouldn’t care that I’d drag him into the Ripper murders. I’m not having that.’
‘Sacrificing yourself to save your lover,’ James whispered. ‘Very Nobel, Silas. Very stupid too.’
‘Yeah, well, I ain’t got a choice. I got too much love for Archie, let alone for the rest of you. But we ain’t going over that again.’ He sat back and let James go. ‘You’ve got stuff to do,’ he said. ‘I got my magazine to read. I feel ten times better ’cos of you, Jimmy, and I got to say, you look bloody sexy in Archer’s House suit.’
‘His what?’
‘It’s what he wears when he goes to debates in the House of Lords. Right little toff you’ve turned into. And you’re as fuckable as he is when he wears it.’
‘Inappropriate discussion, Sir,’ James warned.
‘Yeah. I’m sorry about that snogging thing the other day.’
‘I’m not.’
Silas’ face, until then feigning cheerfulness, displayed honest shock.
‘As you’re clearly not going to let this subject drop, I might as well tell you,’ James said with a shrug. ‘I wanted to do that since I first saw you. No, I am not falling in love with you, and no, I can’t imagine being with anyone other than Tom, but this feels like the time to be honest and… Fuck it. You’re so bloody desirable.’
James was well aware he was blushing to match the colour of Silas’ bruising, but he couldn’t help thinking that this could be his last chance to say these things.
‘Even looking like this?’ Silas asked, grinning.
‘There’s more to you than a pretty face, Mr Hawkins.’
‘
Like an average cock, but a better than average arse, you mean, you dirty fecker.’ He laughed.
‘I reckon we’re on equal terms there,’ James said, raising a smile.
‘I wouldn’t know. And this ain’t the most salubrious place to find out. Besides, right now, I wouldn’t be able to get my mouth round anything bigger than Mrs Flintwich’s cheesy fingers.’
‘I wish you hadn’t put that image in my head.’ The smile was broadening.
‘Dirty cat,’ Silas smirked. ‘But what you just said. I want you to know…’ He was serious again. ‘I appreciate what you’re doing for me, Jimmy, and I don’t just mean the hard-on.’
Incredulous, James jerked back. ‘I’m not, am I?’ His eyes immediately flashed to the front of Silas’ trousers, but the blanket covered the evidence.
‘Sorry, no you’re not,’ Silas grinned. ‘I’m winding you up. You know, as Tommy ain’t here, you’ll have to do.’
‘You’re an arsehole, Mr Hawkins,’ James said with affected affront.
‘I always try to please, Sir. Oh, feck it…’
Silas threw off the blanket, dragged James to his feet and wrapped him in his arms.
‘I ain’t bothered, Jimmy. About tomorrow, I mean. Let them do what the feck they want with me as long as Archer and you, Fecks and Tommy… As long as you lot ain’t dragged into this, that flabby-git Galloways can send me down for two years. Can’t be any harder than four on the streets of Greychurch. Let them say what they want. Archie won’t be here to hear it, there won’t be any shame for him, and Dan Stony, or what the feck he’s called, can have his moment in court. Soon as I’m away, some other bugger will get picked on, and the reason will be the same. Hatred. Spell it any way you want…’
James pulled away.
‘Dan Stony?’ he said. ‘Is that the reverend’s full name?’
‘Don’t know, but it’s who made up the charges,’ Silas replied. ‘What’s up now?’
James was already collecting his bag. ‘Reverend Dan Stony. You’re sure?’
‘Yeah. What have I said?’
Fallen Splendour Page 18
