The Last Days of Newgate - Andrew Pepper [90]
On the other side of the river, he stopped a woman and asked whether this was Sandy Row. ‘Depends on who’s askin’,’ she said, with ill-concealed suspicion. Pyke enquired whether she knew which one the Magennis house was, but she ignored the question and disappeared into her front room. Others were similarly obstructive. It was only when the dog befriended a young girl that his luck turned. While the girl patted the dog’s head, and the dog wagged its little tail, she said, ‘Second house on the right, before the road takes youse up to Grimshaw’s mill.’ Pyke thanked her and handed her a shilling coin.
The house the young girl had identified was typically bleak. It was a small edifice with soiled walls. Its windows were sealed up with paper. The door was open and Pyke stepped into the hallway. ‘Hello?’ He dug into his pocket and felt the reassuring touch of the pistol. It took him a few moments to readjust to the darkness. In front of him, the staircase rose precariously to the upper floor; all the balustrades had been used for firewood. He entered the front room. There, a barefooted old woman tended to a young baby. In the back room, Pyke heard the clink of pots, and a voice shout, ‘Who is it?’ A younger woman, wearing a dirty cotton dress, joined them at the front door. She formed a protective barrier in front of the baby.
‘I was looking for Davy.’
‘An’ who are ye?’ the old woman said, staring at him through grizzled eyes. Her white hair was tied up in a bonnet. In her arms, the baby was crying.
‘A friend,’ he said, without conviction.
‘Oh aye, sure ye are.’
Finding her voice, the young woman said, ‘Aye, the big man’s gone, mister.’ She was a small woman with pale, freckled skin and curly red hair.
‘Ann,’ the older woman snapped.
‘Wha’? We don’t know where he’s away to, Mam.’
‘But he was here?’
‘Aye,’ the older woman said, still suspicious. ‘Left about a week ago, so he did.’
‘Why did he leave?’
The old woman studied him carefully. ‘Ask a lot of questions, don’t ye?’
‘I think he might be in danger.’
The young woman shrugged. ‘Big man just said something about the grim reaper comin’ for him.’ She looked across at her mother. ‘Mind, he’d been in an odd way, the whole time he was stayin’ here. Wouldn’t sleep inside. Said he was happy with the yard out back. He didn’t show much interest in food and no interest in going to work, even though da fixed him up with a job in the mill. See, my da and his are brothers. Didn’t know what Davy did with his days until one of the lasses followed him to the church on Fisherwick Place.’
‘A church? What was he doing in a church?’ Pyke asked, certain now the women were telling the truth.
‘Prayin’,’ the older woman said, staring at him. ‘What else do ye do in a church?’ When Pyke didn’t answer, she continued, ‘Davy done something wrong, then?’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘You’re not here to shake him by the hand, are ye?’
‘Davy say anything about his time in London?’
This time it was the older woman’s turn to frown. ‘The big man was in London?’
‘He went there to find his brother, Stephen.’
Briefly the two women exchanged looks but neither of them said a word.
As he watched their reactions, he thought about the two brothers, Stephen and Davy, and the nature of their relationship. Was it possible that Davy could have killed his own brother? And how, if at all, did that profit Tilling, and therefore Peel?
Pyke felt he had overlooked something that might bring the whole affair into focus.
‘We’re just poor workin’ folk, mister, but we’re honest and God-fearing, so we are. The men are out there marchin’ ’cos we’re proud to be Protestant but none of us care much for violence, and that’s the truth. It ain’t our fault