Lovers and Liars (23 page)

The moment Harriet had gone, Leatherhead hurried downstairs to the office where the auctioneer was worriedly pacing the floor. When the door opened, Tilbrook immediately vented his anger on the older man. ‘I could lose everything if this ever came out!’ he expostulated. ‘My job, and my good name!’

‘There’s no danger of that.’ Releasing the catches on his Gladstone bag, the solicitor removed a bottle of best whisky. He seized two tumblers from the shelf and poured them both a stiff drink. ‘It all came out well in the end, with nobody any the wiser.’ Handing the other man a glass, he urged, ‘Come on, Tilbrook, drink up. Before number sixteen rushes in here, wanting his prize.’

Swallowing his drink, Tilbrook gasped as the liquid went down. ‘In all the years I’ve worked at this game, I’ve never been known to end a sale before the bidding was finished.’ He looked at the older man with stricken eyes. ‘Maybe we should have called her bluff.’

Leatherhead shook his head. ‘Nay. Harriet Witherington is no fool.’

‘Why didn’t she show her hand before now?’

The solicitor had wondered the same.

‘I can’t work it out myself, and she’s never confided in me on that score,’ he answered. ‘All I know is, after years of living a modest life right under our noses – and I’m quite sure she must have known that her Aunt Amy had left her that land – she came to me with proof of her identity. All her papers were in order, and she knew what had been left to her, better than I did. That were two months ago. She wanted us to sell the job-lot by auction, so she could put the money away for an easy old age. Next thing I know, she’s back in my office, saying we’ve got to let that young pup Hanley acquire the land for a mere forty-one guineas when it’s worth so much more. How could I refuse? She’d known all along that we’d been plundering her inheritance, selling off the contents of that cottage a bit at a time, and she’ll not shrink from exposing us both if we should so much as hint to that young man that she’s had any part in this.’ Leatherhead lifted his glass and drank down the rest of his whisky.

‘She’s a sharp one, I know that,’ Tilbrook agreed. ‘Sitting tight while we dug ourselves into a deeper hole, and then coming forward just when we thought we were safe.’ The auctioneer shivered. ‘I’m telling you, all this is beginning to shatter my nerves.’

‘Pull yourself together, man!’ The solicitor poured them both another drink.

His colleague appeared not to be listening. Instead he was thinking of every way she might get at them even now. ‘How can we be certain she still won’t come after us? There were some fine paintings and pieces of Regency silver in storage from that cottage – and we both got a good few quid out of that.’

‘Because when she insisted that I make certain the property was knocked down to that young man, she promised to look the other way over our misdemeanours.’

‘Is it watertight, that’s what I want to know?’

Leatherhead gave a sly little grin. ‘We’re both in the clear, that’s all you need to know. And now I’d better be off. Here are the signed documents you’ll need from Miss Witherington.’ With a triumphant flourish, the solicitor withdrew the sheafs of paper from his pocket and threw them on the desk. ‘Signed, sealed and delivered. And now I really must go. A very good day to you, Bertram. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you!’

The fat man’s laughter had only just died away when John knocked on the door. Feeling more confident after skimreading the documents, the auctioneer sat up straight, put on his best smile, and called John inside.

‘I’m here for the deeds to my property.’ John placed his wad of notes and coins nervously on the desk. ‘You’ll find it all there, every penny.’

Archie stood directly beside him, grinning from ear to ear. ‘You did well, son,’ he kept saying. ‘You did real well.’

As for John, he was still dazed at the speed of events, and the subsequent outcome. The site was his! He could hardly believe it, even now. It was his future; his wildest dream come true.

Yet the glory of the day was deeply marred by Emily’s absence. He needed her like he had never needed her before. He wanted her so much to be by his side, to share in this day, and all the days to come.

But she was content with her new man. She had no more need of John Hanley. It was a stark and lonely realisation.

‘John!’ Archie dug him in the ribs. ‘The gentleman’s waiting for your signature.’

Emerging from his deep thoughts of Emily, John apologised.

‘Sorry. I was miles away.’ Leaning forward, John took the gold fountain pen from Tilbrook’s outstretched hand.

‘It’s not surprising that you are feeling somewhat bemused,’ the other man remarked condescendingly. ‘You’ve got yourself a valuable commodity there, at a very good price. In fact, you could probably sell it on the open market right now, for a deuced good profit.’

John signed his name and returned the pen. ‘Not me,’ he replied decidedly. ‘It’s not a quick profit I’m looking for, but somewhere to build a business that I can be proud of.’

‘What kind of business would that be, if you don’t mind me asking?’

Here, John saw his chance. ‘You might put the word out,’ he suggested. ‘I’m a skilled carpenter and joiner. I repair and build wagons, carts and barges. I can bend a piece of wood to any shape or form, so whatever the customer wants, I’ll provide.’

The auctioneer was not impressed. ‘Not my line of interest,’ he said curtly. ‘But I wish you well.’ In fact, he couldn’t care one way or the other whether John sank or swam. ‘That’s our business concluded.’ He handed John the deeds, and held out his hand for a farewell shake. ‘Good day to you.’

John swiftly reminded him of the receipt, which Tilbrook scribbled out and shoved across the desk to him.

A few moments later, with receipt and deeds safely in his possession, John led Archie out of the building. ‘Another surly stuck-up bugger!’ Archie thrust his hands into his pockets and began to sulk.

Smiling, John waved the deeds under his nose. ‘To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t care if he was the most miserable fellow on God’s earth,’ he joked. ‘Look at me, Archie! One minute I’m standing on the site, wishing and hoping, and the next minute, I’m holding the deeds in my hot little hand.’

Archie gave him a slap on the back. ‘You’re right, matey! It’s time to celebrate!’

John agreed, but, ‘First we must make our way back to the lodgings and tell Harriet the good news. Then I’ll ask if she’d like to come out and celebrate with us. She can advise me as to where I might safely deposit the deeds.’

Archie had his own ideas about that. ‘Go to one o’ them banks that turned you down and shove the deeds under their noses, lad. I dare say this time they’ll fall over themselves to help you.’

John didn’t care much for that idea and said so. ‘Once I’ve tidied the site and made at least one building good enough to work in, I intend starting the business and making money hand over fist. Why should I put my hard-earned profits in a bank that wouldn’t give me the time o’ day when I needed help?’

Archie could see the reasoning behind it. ‘I never thought o’ that.’

John quickened his steps. ‘Harriet will advise me, I’m sure,’ he said hopefully. ‘After all, she’s a businesswoman in her own merit.’

‘So she is,’ Archie agreed loyally. ‘So she is.’ In fact, the more he thought about it, the more Harriet went up in his estimation.

They were entering the alley when Archie sent up a cry. ‘Look there!’ Calling John’s attention to the ragged figure bent over the midden, he declared angrily, ‘Filthy devil! What’s he up to?’

As they approached, they saw how the man was discarding the contents of the midden, obviously looking for food because now, he snatched at a chunk of what looked like bread and rammed it in his mouth. Intent on filling his belly, the tramp didn’t see how John approached him, while Archie stayed back.

‘Don’t eat that filth,’ John said quietly. ‘Go and buy yourself a decent meal.’ Laying a handful of coins on the ground, he stepped away when the man stopped and stared, his mouth stuffed with blackened bread, and his eyes bulbous with fear.

‘It’s all right,’ John assured him gently. ‘I don’t mean to frighten you.’

Now, as the man backed away, John held out his arms in frustration. ‘I only want to help you.’

The tramp continued to study him, his face smudged with dirt and his eyes still open wide, fearful and curious – and deep in the scrutiny there flickered a glimmer of recognition.

Seeing that flicker, which he took to be fear, John said: ‘Have you no work?’

Suddenly, the tramp snatched up the coins and continued to back off, inching his way down the alley, minute by minute widening the distance between himself and John.

Watching him retreat, John was curious; in that moment when the tramp stared into his face, there was a reciprocal stirring of recognition; a deep-down feeling that he knew this man from somewhere. It was unnerving.

There was something about the tramp that made John want to talk with him, to find out more about him.

Now, as the man clumsily stumbled from the alley, John called after him, ‘I can give you work if you want it. Do you know the derelict site by the canal? You’ll find me there most days from now on.’ His voice echoed off the narrow walls. ‘Don’t forget to come and see us. My name is Hanley.
Hanley!
’

‘He’s gone.’ Archie came up beside him.

‘Do you think he heard me?’ John asked worriedly.

Archie shrugged. ‘Who knows? And even if he did, who can say whether he’s prepared to work? Some o’ these vagabonds are too damned lazy to do anything but scrounge.’

‘Did you see how he stared at me?’ John was still disturbed by it.

Archie had seen, but wasn’t unduly concerned. ‘I expect the poor devil’s mad as a hatter. Most of ’em are.’

The chance encounter played on John’s mind all the way back to Harriet’s lodging-house. ‘I can’t help feeling I know him from somewhere.’

Archie had the explanation. ‘Well, o’ course you do!’ he said. ‘He’s the same fella who spoke to us the other day at the Sailor’s Rest Hotel.’

When John frowned, he went on: ‘We were minding our own business, having a conversation about me not being able to do my work on board ship, when he butted in, said as how the sailors would likely throw me over the side if I didn’t feed ’em.’ He gave a cursory glance up the alley. ‘Cheeky bugger. What’s it got to do with him anyway?’

John lapsed into deep thought.

‘Hey!’ Archie gave him a nudge. ‘Have you gone deaf or what?’

John was still thinking about the tramp. ‘I can’t help feeling I’ve met him before, not at the inn, but somewhere else.’

Shrugging, Archie pointed ahead. ‘We’re back,’ he said, ‘and you can put that fella outta your mind, ’cause you don’t know him from Adam. What’s more, you wouldn’t want to neither.’

On seeing Harriet at the door waiting to greet them, John brought the conversation to an end. ‘Happen I’ll have it out with him when he turns up at the site,’ he remarked hopefully.

Archie laughed out loud. ‘I’ll bet a pound to a penny you’ll not clap eyes on that one again – unless it’s to see him rummaging about in middens and such. If you want my advice, you’ll steer well clear. He looks a bad lot to me, straight outta prison I shouldn’t wonder – else why would he be tramping the streets, when he looks fit enough to be earning a wage, tell me that, eh?’

Harriet called to them. ‘Get a move on! Lord knows, I’ve been waiting long enough for you to get back! What happened at the sale? Is it good news or bad?’ She opened her tin of snuff and applied a pinch to each nostril, to help hide her emotion. She knew well enough what the news was, but they didn’t know that, and they never would, if she had her way.

So, when John broke the thrilling news to her, she feigned great excitement. And neither he nor Archie were any the wiser.

Not too far away, in the Sun public-house, Emily’s estranged father was also imparting news, but of a different nature. ‘I’ve just seen a ghost,’ he told those who would listen. ‘Fair shook me up, it has.’ Fumbling in his pocket for one of John’s coins, he handed it to the landlord.

‘I’m not surprised,’ the landlord replied with a wink at his other customer. ‘If you will keep roaming the streets at twilight, you’ll see all manner o’ ghosts. That’s when they come looking for your kind.’

‘That’s right enough!’ the other customer remarked. ‘You wouldn’t catch
me
out after midnight, I don’t mind telling you. That’s when the witches and werewolves go on the prowl. I’ve heard tell how some of your kind get snatched off the streets, never to be seen again.’ His voice dropped to a whisper and his eyes grew wider with every word. ‘Vampires, too. They’re never far away, or so I’m told.’

For a minute the tramp wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not; until he saw the smile and a wink pass between him and the landlord. He grinned at them through his unkempt beard. ‘Go on with you! I’m not that easily taken in.’

‘It’s your own fault,’ the landlord laughed. ‘You left yourself wide open for a joshing, with your talk of seeing ghosts and such!’

Throwing another coin on the counter, the tramp ordered a refill of ale. ‘I didn’t mean that kind of ghost,’ he explained. ‘I meant a ghost from the past … some man I recognised.’ Taking the ale, he swigged it back. Seeing John had given him a real turn.

The landlord saw how shaken up he was and said as much. ‘From the way you’re trembling, I’d say it was somebody you owe money to.’

Michael glared at him. ‘Well, you’d be wrong!’ he said, growing more confident with every gulp of the potent brew. ‘If you must know, it was a young man who lived not far from my farm.’

Seeing the other men look from one to the other with disbelieving expressions, he told them. ‘Oh, aye! There’s more to me than what you see in front of you.’

‘If you’ve got a farm, what the blazes are you doing wandering the streets round the docks?’ That was another customer, a slight fellow with a drooping moustache.

‘Because I choose to, that’s why!’ When the memories came flooding back – of his father, and of Aggie and Emily, he saw again what he had lost. ‘I couldn’t stay, d’yer see?’ he muttered as though to himself. ‘I weren’t strong enough.’