Except the Dying

THE CARRIAGE LURCHED and Alice almost fell forward into the lap of the man seated opposite her.

“Oops. What’d we do, run over a dead dog?”

“Just a lump of ice.”

He pushed her back into her own seat. The sailor had brought her to this man but she didn’t fancy him at all. He was as twitchy as a schoolboy, refused to tell her his name, and had barely said a word the entire ride.

She straightened up and sat back, fanning herself. “It’s bloody roasting in here.”

She started to unbutton her jacket.

“No sense being uncomfortable, is there?” She giggled wildly, then hiccoughed. “What’d you put in that drink? I can’t feel my nose.”

The man sipped at the silver flask he was holding. “It’s just first-quality scotch. Perhaps you’re not used to it.”

Even well on her way to total drunkenness as she was, Alice picked up the contempt in his voice. She scowled.

“I’ve had good grog before. Lots of times. Just as good as your Turkey muck.”

She was sweating in earnest now.

“Can we open the bleeding window? I’m going to melt, else.”

She went to pull up the blind on the window closest to her but the man caught her arm.

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I value my privacy.”

“Nobody’s going to see you out here except the ducks.”

She had lifted the blind enough to see that they were close to the lake, trotting slowly along a narrow spit.

The man leaned over and lowered the wick on the porcelain lamp that hung from a bracket above the door. The carriage darkened, the shadows so deep she could hardly see his face.

“That’s much cozier, wouldn’t you say?”

She shrugged. “I suppose so.”

She’d had all sorts; some liked daylight, some didn’t. She could tell he was one of the play-acting kind. They always wanted you to make out you was enjoying yourself. Ooh and aah and wriggle. When all you could think about was the chops you’d cook for your tea and how long was he going to take to finish the jig. That kind of cully always left red-faced with a couple of dollars on the pillow. “Buy yourself a little present.” Sod the fools. She giggled to herself.

Good thing they weren’t mind readers.

“Can you share the joke, Alice?”

She yawned. She suddenly felt so tired she thought she could fall asleep right there.

“Wasn’t anything. But I’m bloody whacked. Can we go back now?”

“I thought you were enjoying the ride.”

Alice sighed. “’S bloody marvellous.”

He leaned forward. He was sweating and there was an unpleasant smell coming from him. Maybe she was his first wagtail. The Johnny Raws were always scared out of their nobby drawers.

“I understand you have information about that girl who froze to death…”

“Did Jack tell you that? It was supposed to be a secret.”

“He tells me everything. Are you going to go to the police and claim your reward?”

“I might, ’cept Ettie’s all miffy. She doesn’t want me to say anything because she thinks it’ll get us into trouble.”

“I don’t see how giving information to the police could get you into trouble. You’re doing your civic duty.”

“Don’t I always.”

“What was it you saw? Perhaps I can tell you if it is worth bothering the police about.”

Alice struggled to make sense of what he was saying. He seemed to be going a long way off.

“Stop mumbling,” she said. “Course it is. They’d love to know. She got into a carriage, didn’t she?”