Andrew Pepper - Kill-Devil and Water

Pyke took a step towards her, but saw her face and stopped. ‘I’m clumsy. Sometimes I say the wrong things.’

‘Yesterday at Godfrey’s apartment, you made Copper feel more welcome than me.’

‘I’ve missed you.’

‘And that’s supposed to make everything right? You’ve missed me.’ She pulled a strand of hair behind her ear and shook her head.

Pyke tried again. ‘I wanted to take you in my arms but I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of Godfrey and Felix.’

Jo stood there, hands on her hips. ‘I’m not Emily, Pyke. I’m nothing like her. No one could be. I’m also not Felix’s mother. I’m just a plain red-headed girl. I’m a servant, Pyke. You pay my wages. That’s how it should be.’

‘I’m no better than you or anyone else.’

‘But why me? Why not a woman who’s wealthier, better looking, and more intelligent than I am?’

‘You don’t see your good qualities, that’s all.’ He wanted to say more but couldn’t find the right words.

‘You don’t even know me, Pyke. That’s my point. You don’t know a thing about me.’

‘I don’t know you? Don’t be absurd. We’ve lived under the same roof for almost ten years.’

‘As your servant, Pyke,’ Jo said, exasperated. ‘Where was I born? What are my parents’ names?’ She must have seen his expression because she added, quickly, ‘You didn’t even know they were still alive, did you?’

‘So I don’t know their names. I’ll learn. I’ll make a special trip to your birthplace. But what will that really change? I know you. That’s all that counts.’

But Jo wasn’t mollified. ‘I’m your servant, Pyke, not your mistress. For ten years you’ve hardly noticed me. I’m not trying to chastise you. I’m just being truthful. So what’s changed all of a sudden? Why now? I’m not stupid, Pyke. I have a good rapport with your son and you’re just nostalgic for the way things used to be when Emily was alive.’

Pyke didn’t answer her because he didn’t want to concede that she might, in part, be right. But his silence seemed to make her even more angry. ‘I remember what Godfrey said about you going to Jamaica. He reckoned you were chasing after a ghost — that if you found justice for this woman you would somehow find justice for Emily.’

Pyke stood there, simultaneously wanting to embrace Jo and slap her around the face. ‘You think I don’t know Emily’s dead?’

Jo ignored him. ‘Even if you do find this woman’s killer…’ Her face turned the colour of beetroot. ‘What then?’

‘It’s just a job. It’s what I do, Jo. What I feel for you has nothing to do with Mary Edgar or indeed Emily.’ But as he said it, Pyke could hear how unconvincing his voice sounded.

‘And what do you feel for me?’ Jo stared at him. There were tears in her eyes. ‘Do you love me?’

There were so many ways he could have answered this question but in the end they all sounded hollow, so he said nothing.

‘I think I understand my position better now.’ Jo gathered up her petticoat and ran up two flights of stairs to her room.

*

Pyke wasn’t ready to let Jo have the final word on the matter and after supper, once he’d put Felix to bed, he knocked on her door. When she didn’t answer, he pushed it open and stepped into the small room. She was lying on her bed, facing the wall. A candle flickered in its holder on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. Not saying anything, Pyke crossed the room and sat on the edge of her bed. She didn’t move. Gently he reached out and touched the back of her neck. When she finally turned over to face him, Pyke saw she had been crying.

‘What do you want?’ she said, staring up at him. She sounded weary but also hopeful.

‘When you asked me just now whether I loved you…’ Pyke hesitated, trying to find the right words. ‘I don’t know how to explain it. All I can say is that when Emily died, something inside me died as well. I can’t let myself be hurt like that again.’

Pyke was going to say more but she coiled her hand around his neck and gently pulled him down towards her. That first kiss seemed to have settled any doubts Jo might have been having but then, without warning, she pulled away from him.

‘I can’t. Not again.’ She bit her lips and looked up at Pyke, her eyes glistening in the candlelight. ‘Not until I know what you think, what you feel…’

Pyke stared at her without speaking. Perhaps she was right; perhaps he had used her and was continuing to do so. But he couldn’t say the words she wanted to hear.

‘I’ve thought a lot about what happened between us, the night before you left for the West Indies…’

Pyke nodded, vaguely aware that he hadn’t thought about her very much while he was away.

‘I’ve used the time that you’ve been away to think about my life, what I’ve been doing, what I want to be in the future.’

Pyke watched her, trying to reconcile his very immediate urge to kiss her again with the sense that he was using her in some way. ‘And what have you decided?’

‘I didn’t arrive at any decision. I couldn’t.’ She still wouldn’t look at him. ‘Not until you came back and looked straight through me

…’

‘I’m sorry,’ Pyke said, frowning. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you. I did think about you while I was away, about the night we spent together. I missed you, too.’

‘Like you missed Godfrey?’

‘If you’ll forgive me for saying, I don’t find my uncle quite as attractive…’

That made her smile.

An awkward silence settled between them. ‘We can talk about this again tomorrow, Pyke. For now, I’d like to be left alone.’

The Bluefield lodging house was as dismal as Pyke remembered. The last time he had visited, the day had been cool and cloudy, but this time the heat was almost suffocating and the air in the sunless court was choked with dust. He had been told that it hadn’t rained for a month and the ground underfoot seemed to confirm this. In the depths of winter, when the city shivered under a blanket of freezing fog, he would dream of summer days when the air would feel soft against his skin, but when these days finally arrived and brought with them dust clouds, plagues of horseflies and a pungent stink exacerbated by the searing heat, it made him long for the cool days of autumn once more. This was one of those days. Pyke’s back was drenched with sweat before he’d even entered the lodging house.

Thrale recognised him immediately. They met in the kitchen and the landlord adopted a pose of exaggerated servility. ‘It certainly is a hot ’un,’ he said, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. ‘How about stepping outside for some air?’

In the yard, where it was a little cooler, Pyke said, ‘I need to find a blind man called Filthy. I think he was known to Mary Edgar and Arthur Sobers.’ The notion that Filthy might in fact be Phillip Malvern had stayed with him ever since he’d talked to Mary’s mother, Bertha, in Accompong.

‘You told me that already and I’ll say what I said back then. I don’t know him. I’d tell you if I did.’

The former bare-knuckle fighter could certainly take care of himself in a fight and Pyke didn’t want to antagonise him needlessly. ‘Do you mind if I question your guests, see if anyone else knew him?’

‘Long as you don’t upset anyone.’

‘I take it you haven’t seen or heard anything more about Arthur Sobers.’

That drew a frown. ‘I thought you’d have heard about him.’

‘Heard about what?’ Pyke felt his heartbeat quicken. ‘I’ve been out of the country.’

Thrale shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot. ‘Peelers got him. Last I heard he was waiting to be tried.’