Naomi was looking a mite better, with the colour back in her cheeks, and Rose busied herself stirring the broth and then setting the table. It was only his da who would be able to get through to Adam and with Wilbur thinking the sun shone out of his eldest son’s backside, she might have known he’d do nothing to upset him.
Should she have a word with Jake on the quiet?
And then she answered herself with an immediate no. Whether she was right or wrong, Jake getting involved would be like the spark to a powder keg. No, the best she could hope for was that she was wrong. Failing that, that Adam would come to his senses by himself. But would he? Please, God, make him see sense.
She sliced the two loaves of stottie cake she had baked to go with the broth into big chunks, praying as she worked.
Chapter 21
No one looked twice at the two shabbily dressed individuals who had just climbed down from the harrier’s cart at the back of the Bishopwearmouth cemetery. Even if they had, no one would have recognised the smaller of the two.The years had not been kind to Silas Fletcher. His indulgence in most of the vices known to man had stripped him of his good looks, and with the passage of time his face had taken on a sour yellowness as his thin wiry body had seemed to shrivel. Only his eyes remained the same, the permanently bloodshot whites emphasising the bullet-hard quality of the black orbs. His companion, a long lean individual with a permanent stoop, was equally unprepossessing.
It was this man who now said, ‘You sure we’re doing the right thing, Len?’
‘Aye, I’m sure.’ He had called himself Leonard Craggs when he had arrived down south and no one, not even Sid who had been a crony for over twenty-five years, knew any different. ‘I told you, it’s got too hot for me in London, I need to give it a bit of time to cool down with Dave Kane breathing down my neck. One warning to make meself scarce was enough.’ He glanced down at his right hand and his bandaged fingers.
‘Still hurt?’ Sid said sympathetically.
‘If you’d had your fingers broken one by one in a vice operated by one of Kane’s gorillas, would it hurt?’
‘You shouldn’t have squealed to the law the last time you got caught. You were lucky it was just one hand. I’ve known Dave Kane put a man in a wheelchair for life for less than what you did. Kenneth Gray—’
‘All right, all right. I don’t want to hear about Kenneth Gray.’ Silas swore under his breath. ‘Look, I told you, I’ve got family round these parts I can perhaps tap for a bob or two. Folk who’d rather forget I exist.’
‘How do you know they’re still alive?’
‘I don’t. That’s what we’ve come to find out, remember?’ said Silas with heavy sarcasm. ‘But the main thing is we’re far enough away to satisfy Kane and I know this area like the back of my hand, the old part of the town at least. Especially the East End where the action is. Stick with me an’ you’ll be all right.’
Sid glanced at Silas’s bandaged hand. He looked doubtful.
Delving into his coat pocket, Silas counted the money he was carrying in a smart black leather wallet. ‘We’ve a few days’ board and lodging with nice grub courtesy of that gentleman’s generosity back at Euston. Not that he knew he was being generous of course.’ Silas smiled, showing stubs of blackened teeth. ‘Not bad, considering I usually use my right hand.’
‘You’re a marvel, Len.’
They had begun walking as they talked and now Silas glanced up and down Chester Road.The day was bitter, the cutting edge of ice in the rain but he wasn’t downcast. Like he’d said to Sid, he’d make a few inquiries about Rose and his brothers and sisters but he wasn’t expecting anything from it. If Rose or any of them were alive, ten to one they’d be living hand to mouth and he wasn’t about to advertise his return for a few measly pennies. His main reason for coming back to the north-east rather than going elsewhere was that he knew all the old haunts and dens, it was familiar ter-ritory which would give him an edge. Two or three months here, six at the most, and he could return south. Maybe not London though. His broken fingers were throbbing. And he’d keep his head down for a while when he left here. If Kane had wanted to put the wind up him, he’d succeeded.
He glanced at Sid trudging along at the side of him. He had tried to make out to Kane it was Sid who had ratted on him when they had both got caught peddling the drugs, but Kane hadn’t had any of it. He was no fool, Dave Kane. He’d best remember that in the future.
By the time they had crossed over town and reached the East End, the weather had set in and they were soaked through. Silas was pleased to see that the East End was much as he remembered and once they had found a room in a squalid little house in a street close to the old barracks, he sent Sid out for some hot pies and chitterlings and bottles of beer. The landlady had lit a fire in the small fireplace when he had coughed up an extra bob or two, bringing up a full scuttleful with a big smile.
She might well smile, Silas thought, standing with his back to the fireplace, the palms of his hands pressed against his thin buttocks and his damp trousers steaming from the heat of the flames. Well over the odds, he’d paid. Tomorrow he’d make sure Sid got a sack of coal from somewhere.
He glanced round the dirty little room, at the three-quarter size iron bed with its grey sheets and thin eiderdown and the rickety wardrobe with a broken door. A small table with a wobbly leg and two hard-backed chairs made up the sum total of furniture and the walls were damp and likely bug infested. But this would suit his purposes for the present, no one asked questions in this part of the East End.
He had learnt a lot since he’d left these parts. Funny he had returned for the same reason he’d left, because things had got a mite too hot for comfort. Full circle if you came to think about it. But the bad boys in these parts were nothing compared to the London hard cases and, like he said, he’d learnt plenty. He’d wipe the floor with them here.
Silas’s amazing belief in his own ability which had carried him through some sticky situations in the past was reasserting itself after the fright he’d had when Dave Kane had had him picked up the week before. As he swayed back and forth on his heels,what passed for a smile stretched his lips in the midst of his bewhiskered face. He’d make a killing here, he could feel it in his water.
‘So what’s the interest in this Fletcher bloke?’
Silas turned his head and looked at Sid. They were sitting in a corner of the bar in the Friendly Tavern in Southwick Road and Silas, as he termed it to himself, had struck gold. He had long since discovered that you could learn more in the confines of a public house than anywhere else if you played your cards right. Drink loosened men’s tongues and they’d tell you things they’d never dream of revealing when stone cold sober. Not that this particular thing was any sort of secret. No, it was common knowledge that Jake Fletcher had won the jackpot by ingratiating himself with some farmer who had a nice little spread near the old quarries Hylton way apparently. And Rose had married again. Well, well, well. The pints of beer he’d bought that neighbour of Rose’s had been money well spent.
Shrugging, he said briefly, ‘He might be good for a bob or two, that’s all.’
‘You know the family then?’
‘Used to, before I moved south.’
It was dismissive and said in the way Silas had, which warned Sid to lay off. For once, though, Sid was having none of it. ‘Look, Len, I come up north with you, I didn’t have to. The least you can do is fill me in with what’s doing.You didn’t pour the beer down that bloke’s throat for nothing.’
‘Perhaps I felt sorry for him.’
Silas hadn’t meant Sid to take him seriously and now the other man laughed shortly. ‘And pigs fly.’
Silas glanced about him to make sure no one was listening.The bar was full of shabbily dressed men sitting over their half pints which they made last all night. Their talk was intermittent and most of the faces were dead looking. He had noticed one or two bring out small tin boxes containing Woodbine ends which they had obviously picke
d up here and there. None of them was like the strong, aggressive, loud talkers he remembered from his days down the mine. He felt no pity for them, merely a mild kind of contempt. Deciding Sid would probably click on anyway, he said quietly, ‘Fletcher’s my kid, all right? I was married once.’
‘But . . .’ Sid’s brow wrinkled. ‘Your name’s not Fletcher. And didn’t that bloke say Fletcher’s father had copped it years ago? Pulled out of the dock, wasn’t he?’
‘I left in a hurry. Likely someone put two and two together and made ten with me going and some bloke’s body being fished out of the water. I don’t know and I don’t care. It suited me to disappear.’ Silas took a long pull at his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before he continued.‘And now it appears me son’s set up and respectable. Wonder what he’d pay for me to remain dead? Likely he wouldn’t want me resurrected, what with his mam having married again and with another family.The way they are round here they’d tear her apart gossiping over their backyards. Her a bigamist with umpteen bastards to her name. Aye, if he thinks anything at all of his mam, this could be a nice little earner for us while we’re in these parts.’
The cogs were still slowly turning in Sid’s brain. ‘So your name ain’t Craggs then?’
Silas finished his pint. ‘Craggs’ll do,’ he said shortly. He looked hard at Sid.
‘All right, Len. All right.’ Sid nodded. ‘So do I take it we’re going to pay Fletcher a visit?’
‘Oh aye. Tomorrow’ll do, it being Christmas Day. Little Christmas present, eh?’ Silas grinned.
‘What if he don’t believe you, him being a baby when you cleared off?’
‘He’ll believe me.’ It was said with quiet certainty. ‘And you keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking. Better still, I’ll go on me own and see him but I’ll let him know there’s someone clocking my return. Bit of insurance in case he don’t take too kindly to what’s said.’
‘Whatever you say, Len. Whatever you say.’
‘Go and get another couple of pints in.’ Silas slid some coins across the table. ‘And two double whiskies to go with ’em. I’ve just come into money.’
Sid stood up but before doing as Silas said, he leant forward. ‘What about her, your wife? You going to see her an’ all?’
Silas shook his head. ‘She’s just the lever that works the cash till. If Fletcher’s cooperative, this can remain just between the three of us.’ He had no wish to open a can of worms. He hadn’t had anything to do with that fella’s murder years ago but it might not look like that with the rabbit’s foot being found on the body. Likely his son had little knowledge of the means by which they had identified the body, him being a wee bairn at the time. He’d play it by ear when he made contact with him, but even if the lad didn’t care over much about his mam, likely he wouldn’t want the scandal, him being a well-to-do farmer and respectable member of the community.
Silas’s lip curled as he watched Sid make his way over to the bar. Folk placed great store by respectability and his wife had been more fervent than most in that regard, probably because of the way her pious mam and da had brought her up. It had been the tool in his hands which had made her dance to his tune, and he dare bet she would have brought the bairn up the same way she’d been reared. Well, he’d soon see.
He drew a packet of Woodbines out of his pocket and lit one, taking a deep drag and blowing out the smoke slowly, relishing the number of envious glances from the thin, drawn faces around him. When Sid returned with the drinks, Silas smiled at him. ‘By the time we leave these parts we’re going to look like a couple of gents, Sid.You mark my words.’ He drank his whisky straight down, smacking his lips and settling back in his chair. ‘Aye, I could do with some new togs, and that flea-bitten hovel we’re in is fit for neither man nor beast.A nice hotel room, I think.The Grand, maybe. Fancy that?’
When Sid just stared at him, Silas’s smile widened. ‘You have to think big if you want to be a step ahead of the crowd, Sid. And I do that, I think big. It’s what’s always set me apart from the scum. I’ve told you, you stick with me an’ you’ll be all right.’
Chapter 22
Jake stood in the cow shed, gazing broodingly over the ruminating creatures but without seeing them. The lamp-lit serenity of his surroundings, the gentle puffing of the contented cattle with their turnip-sweet breath misting the cold air was lost on him. He was in turmoil.
Grinding his teeth, he sighed with a low groan, causing the nearest bovine to glance his way. He couldn’t go on like this, not for another twelve months. He’d come to the end of his tether. She’d thanked him so prettily for the fur-trimmed coat and gloves he had bought her for Christmas, reaching up and touching his cheek with her lips before giving him his present of a fine leather tobacco pouch and pipe. All day his face had burnt from the contact. He could feel it still.
He was going to have to do something. But what? If he told her how he felt, ten to one she would pack her bags and disappear. But the alternative, that of further months, perhaps years, acting the big brother was beyond him. He was thirty-three years old, damn it. He wanted a woman in his bed at night, he wanted the ragings of his flesh catered for. No, not a woman, any woman. He wanted Hannah. Hell, how he wanted Hannah.
Turning, he walked over to the open door, standing with his back to the cattle as he gazed out over the snowy darkness, his breath white in the frosty air as he sighed again. He was in a cleft stick. If he said something he’d lose her for good. If he held his tongue he’d go stark staring mad.The last two years had been bitter-sweet, knowing he featured highly in her life and that she held him in affection, even love, but of the sisterly kind. She trusted him, that was the thing, and after her uncle and then Adam letting her down so badly, he didn’t want to be the third man in her life to betray her trust. And how could he ask her to love him as a woman loves a man? He only had to look in the mirror to see it was impossible.
Suddenly impatient with himself, he retraced his footsteps and picked up the lamp, but as he reached the barn door again, one of the farm dogs began barking. It was probably nothing more than the scent of a fox skulking around that had set it off, but since the trouble with the poachers he’d instructed everyone at the farm to take nothing for granted. As he came round the corner of the barn, he was just in time to see a shadow pressed against the wall kick out at the dog which was lying almost flat on the ground, hackles raised, still growling and barking.
‘I’d advise you to keep quite still if you want to keep your leg in one piece.’ Clicking his fingers at the dog, Jake continued, ‘Guard, Flossie,’ whereupon the dog stopped barking but remained in the crouching position with her eyes fixed on the intruder.
‘I weren’t doing nothing.’The voice from the shadows was low, wary. ‘I watched you come out of the house earlier and I thought you might be Jake Fletcher. I want a quiet word with him.’
‘Oh aye?’ Jake found himself staring at a shabby, insignificant-looking man, from what he could make out in the darkness. ‘And what would that be about?’
‘You him? Are you Jake Fletcher?’
Jake held the lamp higher so the light fell full on the man’s face. It was thin, the chin covered with grey stubble but it was the eyes that held his attention. They were dark, seemingly black, and they glittered in the light like pinpoints of granite. He was reminded of a rat held at bay. ‘Aye, I’m Jake Fletcher,’ he said quietly.
‘Don’t recognise me, do you? Mind, there’s no reason you should. You were nowt but a babbie when I left.’
Jake had moved a step closer to the man in order to see him clearly when he’d held the lamp to his face, and now he became aware of the stranger’s body odour. It was distasteful, mustily sweet and frowsty, not so much an unwashed smell but something peculiar to the individual in front of him. He didn’t think he had ever smelt anything quite like it before. Swallowing hard, Jake said, ‘You’re trepassing on my land.’
‘I know it’s your land, lad. Done right go
od for yourself, haven’t you? But then it’s in the blood, aint it? The Fletchers have always known how to look after themselves. ’ Glancing down at the dog, he added, ‘Call it off. I’m no threat to anyone, lad.’
He wasn’t so sure about that. ‘What do you want?’
‘A quiet word, like I said. That’s why I didn’t knock on the door and announce meself to all an’ sundry.’
Jake waited. He wasn’t sure if the instant dislike he’d felt for this man was because of the circumstances in which he’d met him or whether he would have felt it anyway, but there was something about the fellow that made his flesh creep.
‘Well, see here, it’s like this. This might come as a bit of a shock because as far as you know your da died when you was a babbie. That right?’
Jake neither nodded nor replied but remained staring at the man as something in his stomach curdled.
‘But they got it wrong, them that said he’d died. It was a mistake, right? Whoever the poor blighter was they pulled out of the dock, it weren’t me. I’d skedaddled down south.There were good reasons for me going,’ Silas’s tongue moved over his lower lip, ‘but best I don’t go into that. Suffice to say I had to disappear. But I’m your da, lad, that’s what I’m saying. Silas Fletcher.’
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