Arrowood

He nodded and sat on a stool.

‘What’s the job?’ he asked.

‘We have a parcel for your friend, Thierry,’ said the guvnor softly, leaning across the table. ‘Only we can’t find him.’

Harry stood.

‘You said a job. That ain’t no job far as I can see.’

‘We’ll pay you for the information.’

He looked back and forth between us for a moment, chewing his lip.

‘No.’

He was turning to leave when I grasped his arm.

‘Let go,’ he demanded, his bristly face pinched. Under the thick wool of his coat, I could feel the bones of his arm: he was thin as a workhouse pensioner. His skin was grey, the rims of his eyes red. The bones of his jaw were sharp like a skull.

It was no trouble to shove him back down on the stool. He was a good few inches taller than me but weak as a sparrow.

The undertaker quickly rose, shoved the remains of his whelks into his pocket, and made his exit. Mrs Willows brought over the coffee, her face calm like nothing was happening.

‘You be nice, Mr Barnett,’ she murmured.

‘We intend to be very nice to the gentleman, Rena,’ said the guvnor.

‘I don’t know nothing,’ said the man. ‘Honest. I can’t help you. He’s gone. Went off a few days ago now. Probably gone back to France. That’s all I can think.’ He glanced up at me. ‘That’s all I can say, sirs.’

‘You’re a thin man for a cook,’ the guvnor observed.

‘Cook’s helper. I do the peelings mostly. Pull the bones out the fishes. I ain’t no big cook.’

The guvnor leaned over the table suddenly and shoved his hand in the man’s coat pocket. Before Harry could respond, he pulled out a greasy packet and dropped it on the table.

‘It’s a pudding,’ said Harry, his tone defensive. ‘Half a pudding.’

‘What’s in there?’ asked the guvnor, indicating the other pocket.

‘Couple of spuds. Bit of a ham bone. They was going to throw it.’

‘I doubt that,’ I said, having a bit of a look in his pocket. ‘Ain’t nothing wrong with that food. Even if it was on the turn, they’d sell it in the Skirt or outside to those as sleep in the alley.’

‘Don’t tell him, mister. Please. I’ll take it all back. Last thing I need right now is to be out of a job.’

‘No need for that, sir,’ said the guvnor. ‘We’re not on friendly terms with your employer.’

‘Why are you so thin?’ I asked. ‘Are you sick?’

‘If six children be called a sickness. And one of them only two this month.’

‘But you’ve a regular job,’ said the guvnor. ‘Is your wife alive?’

The man nodded, his eyes twitching towards the window where a hansom trotted past.

‘Doesn’t she feed you?’

The knuckle in Harry’s gullet rose as he swallowed.

‘I can’t help you,’ he said.

‘We do mean to give you a shilling, Harry,’ said the guvnor, his voice gentle. ‘We’re investigative agents, working for Mr Thierry’s family. They say he’s gone missing. They’re worried.’

Harry continued to stare out the window, unsure whether to trust us.

‘We couldn’t come to the Beef because Mr Cream has a particular dislike for us,’ continued the guvnor. ‘That’s why we sent the boy.’

For another minute, Harry considered it. Then he rose.

‘I can’t help you. Thierry just left. I ain’t heard from him since, and even if I did know something I don’t know as I’d tell you. I don’t want to be mixed up in what ain’t got nothing to do with me.’

Yet he didn’t leave. The guvnor looked at him in silence, his face puckered in thought.

‘We were there when Martha was stabbed, Harry,’ he said at last. ‘She was waiting to meet us. I held her until the constable arrived.’

The cook froze. His eyes filled with brine. I put my hand on his shoulder, and he let me support him as he sat back down.

‘We think that had something to do with Thierry going missing,’ the guvnor went on. ‘We’re going to find out who killed her. But we need information.’

‘You were there?’

‘She asked us to meet her. She wanted to tell us something.’

All of a sudden Harry began to talk quick. He leaned across the table, his voice low as if not wishing Mrs Willows to hear. ‘Something was happening at the Beef,’ he said. ‘Not the usual. Something bigger. I don’t know what for sure, but there was a gang of them in and out of there. Mr Cream asked Terry to go and get a delivery for him last week. I told him not to go but you never can say no to Mr Cream. Not if you want to work there, you can’t. One day they come in, two of them, up to Mr Cream’s office and start wrecking it. We could hear it from the kitchen. Not a one of Mr Cream’s men went up to stop them. Not Mr Piser, not Long Lenny, not Boots. They all stands down next to the front bar, quiet as mice.’

‘Who were they?’

Harry shook his head.

‘Were they American?’

‘And Irish, but that’s all I know. It was secret. They come in and go straight upstairs, never a word to anybody, like they was in charge.’

‘Come, Harry,’ said the guvnor. ‘Think. You must have heard something about them.’

‘There was some talk of them being burglars. You know Mr Cream’s a fence, I suppose? Somebody reckoned they was doing the big houses up in Bloomsbury and so on. The big houses around Hyde Park as well, the ministers’ houses, the embassies too. Jewellery and silver. You know, things easy to move on. That’s where Mr Cream comes in. That’s the whisper I heard. Didn’t hear any names.’

‘Why did they turn over his office?’