Silver (16 page)

“
Oh sir, yes sir,” she breathed huskily. These words, whispered so, were her stock and trade. It was what Avery wanted. Was this was what he wanted from Kate? With Sarah before him, he found he was fighting an urge to sink his teeth into her neck, he wanted to be inside her, stirring her, on top of her, making her cry out in delight.

       
He noticed one of her hands slipped away from his neck and grab his buttocks. She pulled him at the neck and his thighs, closer to her. His groin was grinding against her behind and she could feel something hard prodding her. Instinctively, he grabbed at her wrists and this time spun her to face him. He held her face with the other hand and he forced his mouth onto hers. This time the taste was only sweet. Despite her poor health and marked skin, her lips were soft and, as they parted, her tongue was silky. He had never experienced anything like it. Their mouths entwined, he again felt a surging between his legs and he stumbled forwards until he felt the edge of the bed behind them. When he opened his eyes, he was instantly perturbed not to see Kate’s face and his head swam with indecision with what he was about to do.

“
Get on your knees,” he said quietly.

“
I don’t take it up the arse, Sir,” she stated moodily, her expression clouding over again.

       
The spell was almost broken but the situation was already so intoxicating, she could have spoken of her mother’s prayer mat and Avery would still have pushed her on to the bed. As she slumped forward on to her hands and knees, he lifted her skirt throwing it over her head covering her face so he could unbutton himself. In haste he gripped his member and, following, Connie’s instructions, he eased himself gently inside the young girl knelt before him and began to rock slowly. As he varied the length of his stroke, he leant forwards and slid his fingers to the source of the girl’s pleasure. Connie had shown him how to please her and she had promised it would be no different with Sarah and, as his fingers slid over the little mound he recognised the moan. After a few minutes they had found a rhythm together and he found himself transported once more to his dreams. Distant at first, a wave of intense pleasure began to grow in his own groin as the straps rubbed across his own sex, bringing him to an unexpected climax. The shock and pleasure was too much and he slumped against Sarah bringing them both to a heap upon the bed.

       
After a few moments, Avery raised his head from her back and brought himself back to the reality of Connie’s room. He was full of a euphoric feeling of pride but also embarrassment. The girls face was turned to the wall and a shadow obscured her features but he could see that her eyes were closed. He was spared further embarrassment as he withdrew himself from between her legs. He swung himself off the side of the bed and hurriedly stooped to compose himself and arrange his clothes. The fronts of his trousers were crumpled and damp and he pushed the wet shaft of his cock back into his pants where it rested warm and heavy. He brushed at his lap, moving in to the candlelight to see better. Behind him he heard the rustle of skirts as Sarah put her own attire in order. Bound by an unexpected intimacy, he felt softer towards her but uncomfortable with himself so exposed. He longed to know if he was adequate, if his performance was believable. If he passed. After a moment, he turned to face her. She was staring at him curiously.

             
“Con did tell me,” she said bluntly. Where before her face was pale, the exertions had put a glow about her and a little warmth in her eyes.  “That was your first time weren’t it?”

       
He felt naked beneath her gaze and he nodded

             
“Well it weren’t mine,” she added, “with a woman I mean.”

Avery’s
jaw tightened as the unintended insult of her words washed over him like a poisonous draught of air.

             
“Believe me, I’ve ‘ad plenty of this, that and the other,” she added misinterpreting his withdrawal for shame.

       
She stood at last and busied herself with her laces, tying up the bodice under her ample cleavage.

             
“When Con told me to come over. She said you was a Tom. A good one mind but a Tom. So there I am expecting a bit of this,” she mimed with her little finger, “and you give me some of the other.” She groped at the front of his trousers and clutched at the hard rubber cock.

             
“When you first stuck it in me, I thought I’ll kill that Constance Mayweather. She’s lied to me but it weren’t until I felt it with me hands that I knew you was a Tom and even then I would only have known cos Con told me. I knew a fella once whose cock was so hard and white it was like a bone.” She continued laughing and pinning her hair and talking about a good number of men she had ‘had’ and their cocks.

       
For her, it was a few throwaway comments, but for Avery it was as if he had just been christened.

~o~

“Your ears must have been burning, Silver.”

       
Bateman’s broad grin was becoming a familiar and welcoming sight as Avery swung himself in beside his two friends in the cab. As the door latched behind him, the cab lurched off from their regular rendezvous point at the corner of Flood Street.

             
“So why is life so dull for the two of you to make me a centre piece of your conversation?”

       
Avery leaned forward off his coat tails and took the hip flask which Goodwin now proffered him in the gloom of the cab.

             
“Ha! Of course you are right Silver. If we had more interesting news we would accept your chide but, sir, we have heard some tales about you that would make your hair stand on end.”

       
Avery was swigging heartily from the flask but the words choked him and he spluttered into his gloved hands. Bateman, seated beside him took the flask away and beat him on the back.

             
“Steady man! We can’t be wasting good drink now, can we.” Bateman did not find Avery’s reaction unusual and continued without breaking stride. Goodwin’s eyes however settled on Avery’s and there they remained as Bateman spoke again.

             
“So, do you remember that whore we met up with a while back? You might not remember but if my memory serves me correct you got on rather famously. I was surprised Goodwin remembered at all, he was two sheets to the wind that night!” Bateman nudged Avery and winked at him, jeering at Goodwin as he spoke. “That young blonde I had, you had your eye on as well.”

             
“Sarah,” Avery whispered.

             
“That’s right!” Bateman acknowledged. “I knew you’d remember her.”

       
The cheer which had accompanied Avery from leaving the house that afternoon immediately dissipated.

             
“Well, I was ...er....at a loose end last night. Old Goodwin here had to stay in with mummy.” Bateman pulled a face at his friend. “And I found myself around the seven dials with some spare cash and I don’t mind if I do, but this girl comes over to me and at first I don’t recognise her. She spins me the line that she’s seen me before and, believe me Silver, I was sold without any of the extra talk. Why I didn’t notice it that night but she has a finer figure than Connie.”

“Get on with it!”
Goodwin urged. Avery noticed that Goodwin was still staring at him hard, his expression a little strange. His stomach was knotted tight around a ball of fear inside him.

             
“Alright, alright. So anyway, I was sore tempted even without a few jars to have a quickie in the alley but she said she had a room so I followed her. It wasn’t the Halcyon by any standards but I was hardly paying first class rates. Anyway, anyway,” he continued noticing Goodwin’s impatient face. “She tried talking to me again but frankly by this stage, I was damned near to bursting and I had her on the floor. Twice,” he added leveling a frank stare at the both of his friends.

       
Avery had a vivid picture of the route which Bateman had taken to Sarah’s room having become a regular visitor himself. He could imagine the way Sarah’s hips swayed as she preceded him up the narrow staircase to her room and he could sympathise with the limited staying power Bateman had possessed once the door had closed behind them. He could even see now how she would have been positioned on the floor, her skirt thrown over her head as Bateman worked his, now stiff cock, in between the lips of her cunny, pushing his way hard inside her. She would have let out a muffled cry which she had worked on. Connie had shared with Avery how noises often helped the girls bring men on more quickly to their climax. Within a few strokes, her own juices would have started to flow and, well greased, Bateman would have spent his load quite quickly. Whether he had managed to achieve this twice was doubtful but Avery was not concerned with his friends’ stamina. What he was interested in was why Goodwin was looking at him so keenly and what Sarah might have told Bateman.

             
“As I was getting dressed, I noticed she was watching me. Can’t blame the woman of course! She said she knew me again and then brought up that night. Said she knew a friend of mine. I thought she was talking about Goodwin of course and I apologised on his behalf. Unfortunately, not all men were created equal.”

       
Goodwin rolled his eyes and aimed a cuff at his friend from across the cab before leaning back, a blush on his cheeks but all the while watching Avery still. There followed a silence as now both men watched Avery for his reaction to this story so far.

             
“And?” Avery finally spoke.

             
“As if you didn’t know!” Bateman exclaimed. “So the truth is out and he still claims ignorance.” Bateman threw his hands in to the air in mock exasperation before leaning in conspiratorially. “So it seems our young Silver has made himself a new friend and do you know what your friend told me.”

        Avery’s hand was grippe
d tightly around the door handle of the cab, one eye was on the door as they slowed at a junction and one eye on Bateman and Goodwin who now loomed at him from the half-light.

             
“Turns out you are a dark horse indeed sir.” Bateman nudged him hard. “Miss Sarah tells me that you are the ‘
biggest
’ customer she has ever had!”

       
With that, he cracked his own leg hard with his palm and began to laugh. ‘Don’t look so surprised Silver, why she told me that you nearly poked the back of her throat when you took her on the same rug I did!’ Bateman slapped Avery on the back again and congratulated him. ‘You old dog!’

       
Avery was confused, in between the relief and shock, he felt his face form into a smile and he heard his own chest rumbling with laughter but his eyes remained impassive as he tried to take in his narrow escape. He owed Sarah a sharp rebuke and a reward in equal measure, certainly the admiration which Bateman now bestowed upon him seemed worthy of a few extra coins but on the other hand, Goodwin continued to regard Silver oddly and Avery wondered why she had mentioned him in the first place.

       
As the bravado of the three men reached a crescendo, the cab pulled up at last to their destination in Cleveland Street. The three of them stepped out of the cab, dressed smartly in evening wear all of a similar height and broad slim build.

             
“Gentlemen! Enough talk of the cheap seats, tonight we are hunting a more exquisite prize. I will wager that by the end of the week, I will have finally persuaded Miss Greenwood to have her wicked way with me.”

       
Goodwin snorted loudly and threw his eyes into the air. Avery knew he would take Bateman’s money and Bateman would be no closer to securing the object of his attention for the fourth week running.

             
“You will never manage it,” Goodwin rebuked. “She sounds completely out of your league.”

       
The three men swaggered up the steps to the building in front of them and within a few moments, the door had opened and the three of them had been swallowed inside an orange glow.

In the following weeks, John was proved to be wrong about a lot of things but in one thing he was absolutely correct. By the evening following my father’s death, most of the newspapers had run some story about him. True to his word, John had managed to keep the details from permeating most of the headlines but all of them carried the story in some form. When John met with the undertaker the following day, I managed to read one of the less lurid reports.

January 5th 1911, London Evening Argos

SILVER REVEALS A CLOUD IN LINING

Dead man, Silver found to be a woman. ‘Daughter’ unaware of Fathers’ deceit.

Avery Silver of
Hamble Gardens, Parsons Green, magistrate, father, widower and reputable gentleman was reported dead by his housekeeper in the early hours of yesterday morning.  An unremarkable man whose demise, whilst sad, would hardly seem noteworthy were it not for the news which followed this bland announcement.

When called upon to verify the death, Doctor William Stevens of Hatton Hill found that Avery Silver had been hiding more than a tidy inheritance for his daughter to discover. It transpired that Mr. Silver was in fact a woman and had been living undetected as a man for many years. This extraordinary news has been met with disbelief and shock by all that knew this otherwise unexceptional man. The writer has learnt that Avery Silver ‘married’ a woman and the two had a daughter together who is now in her thirties. Avery Silver survived his ‘wife’ of 30 years by
eight years. Of the two, Silver’s neighbour, Mrs. Victoria Phelps, had this to say:

‘They were always such great company to have at a dinner though she (
Mrs. Silver) was a fiery one. She had a quick temper and was always very defensive of Avery but they were both such fun. I hadn’t seen much of him for a while. He has suffered her death more than most. Died of a broken heart, I expect. Avery, a woman, they say? I don’t believe it. Not for one minute.’

So complete was
Mr. Silver’s deceit that there has been a similar response at every enquiry made by the writer to get to the bottom of the matter. Of the deceased, Mr. Arnold Quick, proprietor of local book shop ‘Mayfair Books’ was full of praise:

‘He was a gentleman. I don’t know who stands to gain by the vicious lies but I’ll be damned if I’ll let anyone repeat it in my earshot, and that’s what they are. Lies. Oh yes
, Avery Silver was a regular client in here. He paid his accounts in a timely fashion and could always be relied upon for a decent conversation. He wasn’t a tattler or a gossip. He always had something decent to remark upon matters of importance. It’ll be a pack of lies. All of this will be to sell papers.’

D
octor Stevens was unwilling to officially comment on the case until such time as he has provided his report and full statement to the Coroner but was able to say:

‘This case is most extraordinary. There is no precedent of required protocol. I am afraid I am unable to comment any further.’

Avery’s daughter, one Mrs. Imogen Bancroft, married to John Bancroft of Worcs., Chairman of Brindlecome Estates, has been informed and reportedly was unaware of her ‘father’s’ secret. Mr. Bancroft himself was also unavailable for comment this afternoon but it is supposed that he too, was ignorant of this deception. The coroner, along with the local magistrate’s office, has launched a full enquiry to determine the legalities of this singularly strange revelation.

As I read the words, two truths seemed to leap about the page. My father was dead. My father was a woman. At the time I suppose, I must still have been in denial as I remember now very clearly that the newspaper report, rather than upsetting me, seemed only to make the situation all the more absurd. Of course, the words were sensible enough but the meaning of them still did not seem to penetrate my mind.

       
When I woke in the morning following my appearance at the Coroner’s Enquiry, I was insensible to how I had got home. I recalled with shame the Coroner’s words and how they had, in one fell swoop, stripped me of a father and a mother. The sense of falling returned to me and I assumed I must have fainted in the Coroner’s Court. Given the fuggy headedness I was feeling, I assumed John had called Doctor Jonas to administer a sleeping draught. John had already left the house some time ago. He had left word with Stokes that he would be busy at his office in town and that meals should be served without him. Evidently, he was inclined to keep me at an arm’s length and I had preferred it that way. Being alone felt preferable to being treated like the enemy. With the boys at their grandparents and the staff appearing to avoid me, the house was uncommonly quiet. John had started organising God only knew what that needed organising and, though I was sorry not to be a part of the process, I was also thankful not to be dealing with all of the people. The reporters had mercifully left us alone, directing their attention instead to the Coroner or to John’s office. Instead of the press hounding us, there had been an almost constant stream of visitors or calls to enquire after both John and myself. I had not thought myself so well acquainted but word, it seems had begun to spread amongst our inner circle. I had admitted only one such caller and immediately had wished that I had not. A woman, Martha Doone, the wife of one of John’s business partners, whom I had always got along reasonably well with had called by with the sole intention of dropping a social ultimatum; either I distance myself from the whole situation or I could say goodbye to bridge club. Though I preferred to distance myself, I was not about to be given such a directive by Mrs. Doone, so was careful to ensure she did not mistake my meaning when I offered to show her the door.

       
After her visit, I was glad of the cool of the glass pane against my forehead as I watched her carriage lurch away from our door. The window afforded a good view of the square to the front of our house. In the winter time, the low slung branches of the maples and beech trees turned to skeletal fingers and one could just make out the houses across the square. I watched as the world beyond the chill glass went on as normal, as if my own had not been destroyed. Birds still flew, one or two carriages drew past as sedately as before and people seemed to mill about on their usual errands. A large woman dressed in a dour brown dress, cloaked against the bitter winter air pushed an infant’s carriage across the gardens; a pair of gentlemen in hats and woollen coats walked across the gardens deep in conversation and a cab, pulled by a sturdy bay horse, rounded the corner of Upper Terrace. It was at once both reassuring and alarming to see the world an unmoved place, but I watched with growing ease, as I imagined that my life could once again return to some level of normality. All of the figures within my view were breathing out miniature clouds as their warm breath crystallised in the cold air and seemed to converge above them to form the dense white sky that hovered above them; it shrouded all of London with its damp breath. The sound of the bay horse’s hooves on the street outside grew louder as the cab drew alongside my window and stopped. My heart froze as I realised that the cab was delivering someone else to our house. The driver hopped from his seat and opened the door and folded down the steps before assisting a woman from the cab’s interior. Her face was obscured by a hat as she concentrated on stepping out of the cab. She had accepted the drivers’ assistance with a gloved hand. Her clothes were very elegant but not modern and the additional support she required from the driver suggested that she was a woman of some years. I glanced across the square where both the two gentlemen and the nanny had stopped in their tracks to note the arrival at my house. The two men were now gesturing to the house and talking rather animatedly; the nanny had frozen in her tracks making an effort to conceal her stares by fussing over the blanket in the pram. My heart sank as I realised that my world returning to normal had been subterfuge for a square full of busy bodies desperate to catch a piece of gossip. My attention returned to the woman who ascended the steps to my front door. Her face became visible and I did not recognise it. As I cast my mind back to all of my husband’s extended family gatherings and social functions, I found I could not place her. No doubt, she was the wife of one of John’s business partners.

              “Mrs. Bancroft?”

              “Yes Stokes.”

“T
here is a Mrs. Evesham here to see you. Shall I show her in?”

Evesham
? The name brought me fresh confusion and I looked to the sombre butler for some assistance.

“
Mrs. Evesham?”

“
I do not recognise the name I am afraid, Mrs. Bancroft. Do you wish me to show her in?”

       
I frowned, suddenly struck by the thought that this woman could be a journalist or a gossip-monger come for some sport.

“
Ma’am?”

“
Yes,” I replied. “Show her in.”

       
The butler turned from his post.

“
But don’t stray too far Stokes, she may not be welcome.”

       
Stokes nodded with grim authority and returned after a few moments followed by the woman from the cab. The woman stood on the threshold of the door, evidently undecided about her errand and she looked at me with a mixture of apology and fear.

“
Mrs. Evesham, Madam.”

       
Stokes’ voice seemed to bring action to the woman and she stepped forward to allow for the door to be closed behind us, Stokes inclining his head to me as he did so.

“
I would ask you to sit down?” I gestured to the chairs, walking around the small table “But I am afraid you have caught me at rather a bad time.”

       
I looked at the woman’s face, waiting for an answer to this statement, some explanation of her unannounced arrival.

“
Thank you,” she said, simply and walked to the chair I had indicated and settled herself in it avoiding my eyes as she did so.

       
I supposed she must have misunderstood my gesture and was about to ask her directly who she was, when a knock came at the door announcing the arrival of the tea tray I had ordered when Mrs. Doone had shown up.

“
I was just about to take some tea, would you care to join me?”

“Thank you. That is very kind.”

        Mrs. Evesham watched in silence as Maud carefully placed the tea tray down and I took the opportunity to examine this woman a little more closely. As I had noted from the window, she was dressed in an elegant dress of dark grey satin and her blonde hair was shot with white. Her face was well made up and showed very little sign of her obviously advanced years. Her hands now removed from their gloves were lined and speckled with dark spots..

“
Will there be anything else Madam?”

“
Thank you Maud. That will be all.”

       
I waited until we were alone before stepping forwards and taking a seat opposite this mysterious stranger and began pouring the tea. There followed an uncomfortable silence and it was obvious that Mrs. Evesham was waiting for Maud to leave us before she would begin. The click of the door in its latch prompted us both from our silence.

“I must
apologise…” she started.

“
Mrs. Evesham...” I began, our voices colliding in an effort to break the silence. I looked at her and indicated she should finish.

“
I must apologise for my coming unannounced. I didn’t know if I should come at all.” She added almost as an aside to herself.

“
Forgive my bluntness Mrs. Evesham, but how should I know you?”

       
She gazed at me. I felt uncomfortable and not a little annoyed.

“
Have we perhaps met before?” I volunteered, trying to assist this woman to some recollection of her business with me

       
I watched as she scanned my face seemingly searching for some recognition. There was something familiar about her which I could not place. Her eyes took me in, watering a little without blinking, a slight smile creeping in to the edges of her lips.

“
Yes.” She nodded, still keeping me under her scrutiny. “We have met before…..Imogen.”

       
The familiar use of my name seemed improper under the circumstances and I blushed.

       
She leaned forward and continued to stare deep into my eyes, willing me perhaps to remember her.

“
I…I’m afraid I don’t recollect our meeting Mrs. Evesham?”

       
I began to grow a little flustered that I had forgotten who this woman was and she seemed to sense this and looked away. Her attention now on the tea tray, she began lifting sugar cubes into her cup.

“
I suppose, I didn’t think that you would. You were so very young.”

       
I continued to stare at this woman, confused by her intrusion and a little miffed at her vagueness.

“
Mrs. Evesham, I am afraid that this is rather a difficult time….”

“
Of course,” she nodded, her hands, which had been resting awkwardly in her lap began to fidget with the material of her skirt. “I must apologise again for my intrusion….it’s just I….”