Silver (8 page)

“
I’ve not been fooled by a tom before,” she slurred at him. “Well, it’s my lucky night ain’t it? Double pay and no mess for the bother.”

       
A shout from down the alley made both of them look up in alarm.

“
Fine fillies, eh Silver?”

       
It was Bateman. His voice was hoarse as if he was trying hard not to breathe. The gaslight from the distant street threw down long and strange shadows and Avery could discern one to be that of Bateman thrusting himself against the wall. “Not a patch on the French, eh?”

       
Avery paused, imagining the girl Bateman was pushing himself into, the resemblance of Kate drawn into his mind, before calling out in response “Easy Bateman!” He turned back to the woman before him, aroused by the turn the night had taken and feeling emboldened by his successful disguise.

“
Make this convincing and you can take the rest of the night off.”

       
There was not a moment’s hesitation from the woman and Avery’s lip curled in satisfaction as the whore pressed him down on to the windowsill so he was sitting. In the gloom of the alley she made a play of fumbling at the front of his trousers. She didn’t take her eyes from his as she lifted up her skirt and petticoats and stood astride him. As she lowered herself onto his lap she fumbled around under her skirts as if to guide him into her. In the intimacy of the light she winked at him and then rolled her eyes as he ‘entered’ and threw her head back, her chin pointing to the darkened skyline. Avery followed her gaze and watched the moonlit grey sky, streaked with sooty swirls of fireside smoke furling in the air above. The dense curls from fireside hearths, their respective occupants oblivious to the whore and her client who stared up at the product of their domestic bliss. Avery’s hands, at first loose by his side clutched the woman by the hips and, as she drew herself up, he could feel the muscles in her thigh tense. As she collided with his lap on her downward bounce Avery was all too aware of his missing member but felt his arousal swell just the same. His eyes focused on the bare skin at her chest. Her dress was cut low and her ample breasts were bursting from beneath her thin bodice. As she rode him to a hard canter, he imagined his phantom cock standing erect from his trousers and how it would be wet with the juices of this bawdy tart. He was alert with his own state of arousal and his own hips thrust underneath the woman so that they met with a force. His grip was tight on her and it was his own urgent rhythm which set the pace and he was suddenly aware of her little whimpers as she cried out, feigning his rough sex penetrating her hard. She clutched at his head and leaned into him, whispering in a matter of fact way.

“
You’d better spend soon. You aint no guardsman you know.”

       
He was hardly aware of how it happened but before he knew it, the whore had clutched him to her breast and begun to moan, all the while she was shaking and grinding herself into his crotch. He found it hard to breathe as he was filled with the musky scent of her cleavage, all the while his own desire was ardent. He realised she was finishing off her performance and he was left feeling unfulfilled. He groaned loudly.

“
Better make it an extra sixpence. You took longer than I thought, Sir,” she said loudly.

       
As she un-straddled him arranging her skirts, Avery too made a play of putting himself away before they both emerged from the alley where Bateman and Goodwin were already waiting. Bateman had a smile on his face but Goodwin was looking a little worse for wear.

“
Vomited before he could get his spoon out,” Bateman clapped his friend about the shoulder and between him and Avery they supported him back to the main thoroughfare. As they approached the brighter lights, Avery glanced behind them but all three women had been swallowed into the dark. He stood for a moment trying to discern the alley from which they had just emerged but it too had been eaten up by the night. As he caught up with his companions, there was an elegant carriage drawn up beside a well-lit public house. As they approached, a smart jacketed young man hopped down from the seat and stood at attention beside the now open cab door. The man eyed Bateman with suspicion but immediately and, with a well-trained hand, guided the staggering Goodwin into the plush seat.

“
Will he be alright?” Silver asked Bateman.

“
Who cares!” Bateman declared loudly with a wolfish grin.

       
Silver stepped forwards and addressed the young man.

“You will take him home?”

“Yes sir.”

“
You are Goodwin’s man?”

       
The young man’s eyes flicked over Silver’s face.

“Of course, Sir.”

“Good. Well, look after him.”

“I always do sir.”

        The young man closed the door after his master and, acknowledging Bateman very briefly, climbed up beside the driver.

“
Good old Heston!” Bateman exclaimed. “Goodwin would be lost without him. Right Silver, shall we try somewhere else for a night cap?”

       
The carriage rattled off but Silver was perturbed to note the young servant turn in his seat and eye him suspiciously. Luck had been on his side already this evening and the dalliance in the alley had left him rattled.

“Another time Bateman.”

             
It was difficult to set eyes for long on any one individual, such was the bustle on the steps of the coroner’s court. The building loomed out of the surrounding smog, half of its roof obscured by a dense grey cloud of smoke. In London, there has always been an industry which thrives on death and I was not surprised to see so many people. Anyone would be forgiven for thinking the cacophony had all been stirred up by the death of my father but life continues to go on and all manner of business was conducted there, including many other deaths being investigated. There was a stream of visitors entering the building seeking answers and just as many leaving; either satisfied or not. As we got closer, there was a throng of people assembled at the foot of the steps leading to the grand doors. They ranged on a spectrum of patient to impatient; from those leaning nonchalantly against the railings, to those extracting a pocket watch every couple of minutes and crossly tapping their feet.

       
In the light of the cold winters day, I saw Geoffrey amongst the faces, looking even older than the day before. His white hair caught the light of the low winter sun and he had an ethereal glow.  He shivered in the cold and I was struck by how frail he seemed. I thought of my father and his heart. Why hadn’t he told me about that?

“
Leech, thank goodness you are here.” John extended a hand to the old man.

       
He tipped his head to me, his face clouded in concern. His distress at my being present at the proceeding was evident. I must have given the impression of being in shock, having not registered Leech’s presence; instead, I merely chewed on my bottom lip and looked into the distance.  “Might I have a word with you,” he indicated to John. When they were at sufficient distance from me, Leech continued.

“
I have no wish to repeat what I said to you last night but as you know, I have known Imogen for many years and her nature is impulsive and strong. I am as fond of her as I am my own daughter and I would not wish her to witness the scene inside this court.”

       
Johns face was as dispassionate as it was the previous night when Leech had advised against both him and me attending the enquiry. Leech was waiting expectantly and, seeing John’s stubborn jaw, he lost his temper a little.

“
So help me John, I am just trying to look after her. You would be well advised to do the same.”

       
He had delivered this a little too loudly and I started from my reverie as if only just aware of his presence. The two of them stepped away from one another. I smiled at Leech gratefully and jerked towards him like a marionette suddenly pulled up by my strings.

“
Geoffrey,” I walked to greet him warmly. “Have they spoken to you yet?” My voice was tainted with edgy concern as though it may rise in a panic at any moment. I was tense and nervous and Geoffrey looked tenderly at me when he replied. “You know that there is nothing you can do. This is not a criminal court or a civil hearing.”

       
I nodded as he spoke, agreeing again that I knew all of this. He continued to repeat what he told me the previous evening.

“
But Geoffrey,” I managed to interrupt at last “they have called me to be a witness.”

       
Evidently this was quite a surprise, as he spun around to question John who looked worn and tired. On the other hand, I was not surprised when an official from the coroner’s court called early that morning requesting my presence as a witness. John rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“
Let’s get this over with, shall we?” he indicated for Leech to lead the way up the steps to the Coroner’s Office.

       
Leech sighed, his shoulders sloping to accentuate his age depleted frame yet further. We followed him at an easy pace through the doors, which were too tall by half and across the marbled floor to a normal sized door marked ‘
Private’
. A few heads turned in our direction and acknowledged Leech with a raised hat or a cheery salutation, for his was a familiar face.  As we reached the clerk’s desk however, he was met with the stony face of bureaucracy.

“Name?”

        It was clear that the clerk knew full well who Geoffrey Leech was and I could hazard that he probably knew why he was here.

“Leech. Geoffrey Leech.”

“Deceased’s name”

       
Leech licked his lips to lubricate his dry mouth before the words could slip out.

“
Silver,” he intoned quietly. “Avery Silver.”

       
The clerk did not miss a single beat but merely consulted his lists and replied in a steady voice.

“
You will be in room number five Mr. Leech. The body was brought in at ten o’clock. Mr. Schofield has already convened the jurors for the first inspection.”

       
The clerk had not looked up at all but his clear voice had alerted a few curious passersby to our arrival.

“
Geoffrey!” An amiable looking man some twenty years Leech’s junior strode across the room. As he approached, the younger man proffered his hand and rounded a welcoming arm across Leech’s back, guiding him away from the officious desk of the clerk and from John and myself. “What a surprise to see you here? I thought you were enjoying your retirement on some god forsaken estate in Wales! Something tasty tempted you back to the office eh, Geoffrey?” The man narrowed his eyes conspiratorially. I did not recognise the man but it was evident from the charged atmosphere that there was no love to be lost in this conversation and I was not surprised by Leech’s cool response.

“
It is something of a family matter, Mr. Taylor and I am afraid you have rather caught me at an inopportune moment. Will you excuse me?” he removed himself expertly from the younger man’s grip who was left watching the retreating back of Leech, a sneer already formed on his lips.

       
Leech rejoined us with an apologetic face. I tried to smile but was all too aware of the mask into which my face had formed. John and I followed Leech through a side door and along a wide corridor off which there were several doors, all marked with numbers in great brass Roman numerals. There was a strange smell as we walked down the hallway, it was an unfamiliar smell for such a building. I suppose I had expected the dusty odour of books and paper; of learning and justice instead there was the sour smell of too many bodies in one place, of chlorine and bleach and the metallic smell of blood. The numbers descended from
X
and I found myself considering the scenes playing out behind each of these. The door to room
VII
stood open and as John and Mr. Leech hurried past, I paused for a moment, lingering on the threshold to see inside. The room beyond was large and perfectly square. In the centre of the room, there was a table and to one side, a large desk opposite which there were a collection of twenty or so chairs The room would have been perfectly innocuous were it not for the body which lay upon the table in the centre. Before I could even determine the poor soul’s age, the door had closed shut again and I had to walk on quickly to catch up with Leech. Behind each door I passed, I could only think of the room beyond, the table upon which a body lay and the collection of men turning it over to determine how each had come to meet their end. As Geoffrey and my husband drew level with Room
V
, I found my legs unwilling to continue and I had to lean on the wall for support as all about me began to swim.

“
Imogen,” John hurried to my side and took my weight. His breath was warm on my face as he hissed to Leech. “What are they thinking, calling her to witness such absurdity? Look at her!”

       
Geoffrey remained motionless; his mouth opened and closed in a comic expression as words tried to form on his dry lips.

“I’m taking you home.”

        John started to turn me to return the way we had already walked.

“
No,” I tried to shake him off but his grip was strong. “John. I want to stay.”

“
I have no doubt you do Imogen but Leech and I will manage.”

“
Geoffrey,” I implored the old man. “I am absolutely fine. I assure you.” I managed to extricate my arm from John’s grip just as a door further down the corridor opened and a clerk appeared, investigating the commotion. He watched for a moment as John continued to press me into leaving before disappearing back inside his courtroom.

“
Mr. Bancroft, if the Coroner has requested Imogen’s presence, it really would be most helpful if she remained.”

       
John opened his mouth.

“
That is, if she is feeling up to it.” Leech finished before John could reply

       
John was about to retort when the door to room number five opened again and an official looking man stepped out and called us in. Torn between duty and his eagerness to escape the scandal, John lingered for a moment before gesturing me in through the open door before him.

       
The room was similar to Room
VII
but arranged around the table were a dozen or so men obscuring our view of the table and the body over which they were deliberating. There were two men who were seated beyond the mob at the table, looking nauseous and holding their heads in their hands. They had not noticed our entrance and Leech lingered on the periphery of the scene awaiting his leave from the Coroner. The clerk, having closed the door behind us, ushered us to seats on the far side of the room. He talked as he walked, not to Leech but to himself.

“
Rather straight forward if you ask me. Should be quite quick.”

“
Gentlemen,” the raised voice was immediately identifiable with the tall figure of a man who was jacketless before the centre table, the Coroner. “If you would kindly please re-take your seats.”

       
There was a small amount of commotion as the assembled throng redistributed themselves amongst the seats directly opposite the Coroner’s desks. One or two of the men lingered a little longer at the table, staring hard at the body that was laid upon it. It was a few moments before I could focus on the form and understand that the body was that of my father’s.

“Oh for pity’s sake!”

        John stood and tried to shield my gaze, as he did so I was sensible only to a great shift inside my heart, a cold numbness.

“Imogen, don’t look.”

        Geoffrey too had stood, he was flustered and evidently he also had not expected my father’s body to be on show when we were called. As both men flapped around trying to prevent me from seeing my father’s corpse lain before me, I was granted instead a flickering view like the pages of a children’s book thumbed at the edges. But instead of stick figures, I watched, unblinkingly, at the two young men who were entranced by the body of my father.  Their faces were a paragon of astonishment and concentration. They seemed to be willing themselves to see my father as a man and to believe it but they did not yet trust what they saw. I followed their gaze to the face of my father, still recognisable from the previous day but decomposition and whatever had been undertaken during the post mortem had given  his skin a much dingier and waxen complexion. A sheet, no doubt for preserving what modesty and dignity he could still claim, had been drawn down to his legs revealing his naked form.

“What is going on over there?”

        The voice of the man stood at the head of the room, whom I assumed to be the Coroner, had noticed the commotion between the clerk and John as they tried to obscure my view of the body on display. I ignored him and continued to stare at my father. Between the curves of my husband’s arm, I noticed first the misshapen chest that was at odds with the rest of his body. In the stark electric light, I could see then that his chest could pass as either male or female in form; there were two small breasts flattened and aged lying tight against the chest cavity. Evidently a lifetime of binding these tightly had rendered them paler than any of the surrounding skin tissue and it looked as though he was still wearing those grey bandages across his chest. The more I stared, the more I was inclined to disagree with the clerk and concur that the matter of determining my father’s gender was not as simple as it would first appear, and I again allowed myself to hope that this would all be some mistake.

“C
an’t you cover him...I mean her. God damn it man, just cover it up!”

       
John crossed in front of me, his voice rising to a shrill pitch, but I could not focus on his words. I could see now why the two gentlemen sitting down were coloured so I saw the fresh post mortem cuts made between my father’s legs. An incision had been made at the top of my father’s pubic bone and circumferentially across his hips. Another single incision had been made, exposing the shaft of his sex which protruded like a miniature erection. Despite the urge to turn my face away, I found I could not. As the clerk rushed to recover the cloth and to shroud my father, I found I needed to witness this last invasion to prove to myself beyond any doubt of the truth. It is the erect sex which the two men who had lingered were staring at and I could immediately see why. The shape of the organ released from its surrounding skin must have been familiar to them and I blushed harder myself when I recognised it. In form it was a miniature version of a phallus. To them and to me, the cut and dry of this case was no longer straight forward as we each considered the form of the sex between my father’s legs and I shuddered.