The Memory of Midnight (43 page)

How odd to think that she would never hear it again. Nell’s mind kept fastening onto trivial details like that. She had tried to imagine life in the New World, but the idea was too huge,
too unknown. She could only think about small things, like a creaking board, or whether anyone would remember to pot up the butter she had churned that day.

Nell worried about how the maids would fare once she had gone. Eliza and Mary were long married, but she had new servants in their place. Her dread was that Ralph would use them as he had used
her, but Tom had quashed her idea of taking them with her as well. They had families to protect them, he had pointed out. ‘You can’t tell anyone, Nell. You must save your daughter, and
yourself.’

So it was just the two of them creeping towards the front door.

Ralph was fast asleep, thanks to the draught she gave him in his wine. That had been Janet’s idea. She would go to the wise woman on the common, she whispered. Just a concoction to help
him sleep while you get away. Nell could hardly believe it when he had drunk it down unsuspecting. Even then he slumped in his closet. She had stood and listened to him snore before she went to
wake Meg.

It was now or never.

If Nell had any doubts that she was doing the right thing, they were routed by the way Meg’s face had lit up when Nell had roused her and told her that they were leaving. They had helped
each other to dress warmly, fumbling with nerves, and Nell checked the purse hanging from her belt, which she had filled with as much money as she dared. Drawing out the garnet ring, on an impulse
she slipped it back onto her finger where it belonged. The jewellery Ralph had showered on her she left in a box on the table. She wanted none of it.

The house slumbered, silent but for the familiar sound of old timber shifting and settling, and snoring from the servants’ chambers. In the distance, a dog barked. Holding their skirts
high, Nell and Meg made it to the bottom of the stairs. It was pitch-dark, but they knew the house so well there was no need of a candle.

They crept down the passage and paused by the door. Taking her bottom lip between her teeth, Nell turned the great key in the lock as carefully as she could. It fell into place with a clunk, and
they both froze, but there was no shout of alarm. Shakily, Nell let out a breath. Now there was just the latch to lift, and the door to open. She mustn’t hurry, or she would make it
worse.

Only when they stepped out into the yard did she let herself breathe easily again. Now there was just the gate at the end of the passage to negotiate. Another clunk of the key, and this time the
latch clattered under her hand. Immediately George Watson’s dog next door set up such a barking that Nell’s heart stopped.

‘Quickly!’ she muttered under her breath to Meg, and they walked as fast as they could along the mid part of the street. Nell had never been out in the streets this late before. Dark
clouds had swallowed up the moon that shone earlier, but that was all to the good, she told herself. It was not far. Just down to the bottom of Stonegate and past St Helen’s churchyard, where
little Hugh was buried. Then along Coney Street and Ousegate and down to the staithe, and Tom would be there.

With an oddly detached part of her mind, she marvelled that this was really happening. They really were leaving. That was the last time she would ever walk down the stairs in the house, the last
time she would hear that cursed dog bark. This was the last time she would walk down Stonegate. She would never pass John Harper’s stall again, never feel his eyes pulling the laces free of
her bodice, or sliding the sleeves down her shoulders.

She would be free.

The city was silent and yet not at the same time. There was a deadening quality to the darkness, but Nell’s senses were so attuned she could hear the snorts and mumbles of her sleeping
neighbours. A cough, a sigh, the grunts of bed work. The thin wail of a babe, quickly shushed. A drunken mumble and a sharp retort.

A breeze puffed down the street and set the shop signs swinging and creaking. All the better. They needed a wind to fill their sails. It was cold, though. Meg shivered and drew her cloak around
her.

The sounds of the night were like no other. Nell could feel the streets breathing around her. It was a different city in the dark. It belonged to the cats slinking along the gutters, to the rats
scuttling in the sewers.

To the evil spirits that slipped through the walls and danced in the dark.

Meg gasped and shrank away, and Nell grasped her arm, her blood hammering with fear. ‘What is it?’

‘I trod on something.’ Meg’s voice trembled. ‘Something that moved.’

‘Do not think of it,’ said Nell in an urgent whisper. ‘We are nearly there. Think about Tom waiting for us.’

They were not the only ones breaking the curfew. They passed a vagrant slumped in the entrance to a passageway, barely more than a bundle of rags. Two drunken sots reeled from one side of the
street to the other, but Nell and Meg shrank into the deeper darkness of a doorway until they could slip past unnoticed.

Cautiously, they turned into Coney Street. The street was well paved and they could hurry, but another dog bayed as they passed. It woke another and another until it seemed every house had a dog
barking out a warning that Nell and Meg were escaping, that they mustn’t get away. Nell took Meg’s hand and they started to run. Along Coney Street, dogs were sleepily cursed, but no
one rose and unbolted their door. No one peered from their casements.

Still, Nell’s heart was pounding as she practically dragged Meg down the slippery cobbles to the staithe. She was too desperate now to care about making a noise. All she wanted was to get
on that boat and sail away.

She could smell the river, fresh and sour, and hear it lapping against the staithe. Where was Tom? Where was the boat? She peered through the blackness. The water was the faintest of gleams.

‘Mistress!’ The whisper made Nell whirl round, her hand to her throat.

‘Oh . . . Janet!’ She could barely make out the other woman’s shape in the darkness. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I thought I’d best come and make sure everything went to plan.’

Nell swallowed. ‘Where’s Tom?’

‘He’s waiting out of sight in the master’s warehouse.’

That was like Tom, Nell thought, laughing a little shakily. Only he would be reckless enough to hide in Ralph’s own property.

‘Come, I’ll take you to him,’ Janet murmured.

‘Can’t we wait on the boat?’

‘Tom has agreed a password with the mariner. Best you go with him.’

‘I suppose so.’ Nell’s pulse was still thumping from their run through the streets. She wished they could just get on the boat and be done, but she let Janet lead her into the
warehouse. The heavy door clunked shut behind them.

At first Nell could see nothing. A candle was burning inside, its flame so bright in contrast to the darkness beyond the door that she had to screw up her eyes. Blinking against the candlelight,
she could make out a figure over by the bales of white cloth.

‘Tom?’

Beside her, Meg stiffened. Nell looked at her daughter, seeing an expression of such horror on her face that her own blood ran to ice and she clutched at her bodice. ‘What? What is
it?’

But already she was turning to follow Meg’s gaze over to the bales, and although her eyes had adjusted fully to the light, she couldn’t comprehend what she saw at first.

She didn’t want to comprehend.

Tom was lying on the bales, staring up at the rafters. Why was he lying there? Nell wondered. Why didn’t he leap up and greet them?

‘Tom?’ she said again, or maybe she didn’t. Her mouth was moving, but no sound was coming out. Her body seemed to belong to someone else. Jerkily, it moved over to the
bales.

The dark blue eyes were open as Tom looked up at her, but he didn’t smile.

His ruff was red, his shirt too.

His head was tilted at an odd angle to his body.
It must be uncomfortable like that
, Nell thought.

It must be uncomfortable with that great slash under his chin.

There was a roaring in Nell’s ears, and a dreadful keening filled the warehouse. Where was that terrible noise coming from, she wondered with that still detached part of her mind.
Didn’t they know they had to be quiet?

She turned to Meg who had moved stiffly beside her. She meant to shush her, but she couldn’t speak, and it was only then that Nell realized the noise was coming from her own throat.

Vanessa took a step back as the howl erupted from Tess. ‘Tess, for heaven’s sake!’ she said, but she looked shaken. ‘Luke, what’s the matter with
her?’

‘Tess.’ Luke’s voice was very gentle as he laid a hand on Tess’s arm. ‘Tess, can you hear me?’

Tess stared at him, her pupils dilated with horror. ‘Tom,’ she stuttered. ‘Tom’s dead . . . Tom’s dead!’

‘Oh my God!’ Vanessa covered her mouth with her hands. ‘Did she just say
dead
? Who’s Tom? What’s she talking about? Luke, what’s going on?’

Luke didn’t answer. He was too busy trying to deal with Tess who was bent over and sobbing, great retching, wrenching sobs that ripped up from deep in her belly. She flailed in distress as
he gathered her to him as best he could. ‘Shh,’ he said. ‘You’re all right. It’s all right.’

‘It’s not all right!’ Vanessa’s voice rose shrilly. ‘Look at the state of her!’

‘Tess, listen to me.’ Luke took Tess’s chin in one hand and made her look at him. ‘Look at me. You’re safe, okay? You’re here.’

Her eyes were dazed still, but she was beginning to focus. ‘Here,’ she repeated.

‘You have to focus now, Tess. You have to think about Oscar.’

‘Oscar?’ Horror stirred anew in her eyes. ‘I’m going to be sick,’ she said, and turned away to throw up in Vanessa’s freshly weeded rose bed.

Revolted, Vanessa turned away. ‘Oh, for God’s sake . . .’

‘Vanessa, call the police,’ snapped Luke.

‘What?’ Vanessa grimaced as Tess continued to heave over the roses. ‘The
police
? Why?’

‘Tell them Martin has taken Oscar against his mother’s wishes.’

‘I can’t do that! Martin is Oscar’s father. He hasn’t done anything wrong.’

‘Tess didn’t want him to be alone with Oscar. You knew that.’

Vanessa flushed guiltily. ‘Tess is overreacting – as usual. And you’re encouraging her,’ she added with a spiteful look. ‘Tess was fine until she got involved with
you again.’

‘Oscar.’ Tess wasn’t even listening. She straightened on trembling legs and wiped her face with her hands. The thought of her son steadied her more than anything else could,
and she forced the ghastly image of Tom’s half-severed head from her mind. ‘I have to find him.’

She had dropped her handbag on the ground when she had turned away to be sick. It started to buzz as she reached for it, and all three of them paused as if transfixed.

‘My phone!’

Tess scrabbled inside for it. Unknown caller. She pressed answer anyway. ‘Hello?’

‘
There
you are.’

‘Martin!’ She threw a frantic glance at Luke who spun his hand to indicate that she should keep talking as they hurried to his car, leaving Vanessa looking at them in outrage.

‘What about this mess?’ she called after them, eyeing the roses in disgust.

Tess ignored her.

‘Where are you?’ she asked Martin as she scrambled into the passenger seat and Luke ran round to the driver’s side of the car.

‘In your flat, of course.’ Martin sounded surprised. ‘I’m packing for you.’ He chuckled. ‘Seems like I have to do everything around here nowadays!’

As if they had never confronted each other in the middle of Stonegate. As if everything was normal. As if he had stepped gently over into insanity.

Trying not to think about Oscar alone with him, Tess covered the phone with her hand. ‘Vanessa was right,’ she told Luke. ‘He’s at my flat.’

‘Call the police!’ Luke yelled to Vanessa over the roof of the car. ‘Tell them Martin is in Stonegate with Oscar.
Do it
, Vanessa!’ he shouted when Vanessa
started to object.

‘Packing?’ Tess said into the phone, trying desperately to control the tremble in her voice as she hauled the seat belt across her and snapped it into place one-handed.

‘You won’t want to take much with you.’ She could hear him opening and closing drawers. ‘Where are all the pretty bras I bought you? Everything else in here might as well
go straight in the bin. You know I hate you wearing these awful T-shirts and things,’ Martin clicked his tongue in distaste, and Tess pictured him grimacing as he held her tops out at
arm’s length.

Swallowing her disgust at the idea of his hands on her clothes, she took a breath and levelled the reediness from her voice.

‘Is . . . is Oscar there?’

Luke had shoved the car into gear and the tyres were screaming on the tarmac as they shot down the road to where the traffic was flowing out of the city in a seemingly unstoppable stream.
Swearing, Luke slammed on the brakes, jolting Tess forward against her seat belt before shoving her back into her seat.

‘Rush hour,’ Luke muttered, edging out as far as he dared and ignoring the blaring of horns and irritable flashing of headlights. ‘That’s all we need.’

‘Can’t you think of anything but Oscar?’ Martin sounded petulant. ‘It’s only ever Oscar, Oscar, Oscar with you.’

‘I need to know if he’s all right, Martin.’

There was an exaggerated sigh. ‘Of course he’s all right. For now,’ he added almost as an afterthought.

Tess went cold. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, I think it’s time for you to make a decision, don’t you?’

‘Decision?’ she echoed numbly.

‘I’ve been very patient, but things can’t go on like this, I’m sure you’ll agree?’

‘Yes . . . yes, I do.’
Keep him talking
, that was all Tess could think.

‘So it’s time to put things right,’ said Martin. ‘Isn’t that right, Oscar?’ he added and Tess flinched as she made out a whimpered agreement in the
background.

Oscar. Oscar who had been running around so happily earlier would be shrunk into himself, confused and scared, and she gestured frantically to Luke to get going. He put his hand on the horn and
shoved the car out across the traffic, making a van swerve and blast its horn in return. Tess was flung around in her seat and the phone slipped out of her grasp, but she managed to grab it between
her knees and put it back to her ear.