The Lion's Courtship: An Anna Kronberg Mystery (7 page)

‘What’s up?’ a low voice inquires over the singing and brawling produced by semi-drunk clientele.

‘Hello, Garret.’ She slips the message into her sleeve and turns towards him.

‘You look…sad?’

‘Hmm…’ she says, eyeing her food.

‘If you want me to leave you alone… Erm… Do you want me to leave?’

She looks up at him, crinkles her brow, and shakes her head. ‘Want an ale?’

‘Sure.’ He slumps down next to her. ‘What are you doing here, anyway?’

‘Eat. Drink.’ She indicates the yet-to-be-eaten meat pie and the almost-finished glass of brandy. Carefully, she picks at the pie, its inside steaming hot, and puts a piece into her mouth. She sees Garret’s eyes dart to her plate, then tearing himself away from it. ‘Two more,’ she shouts at the landlord and points to her food. ‘And an ale.’
 

Soon, the requested items are placed in front of her, baked pork aroma wafting from it.
 

She pushes the new arrivals to Garret. ‘I don’t like to eat alone.’
With someone drooling on my sleeve
, she adds silently.

‘Thanks.’ Garret stuffs half a pie into his mouth. ‘Oufff!’ he hisses, then sucks in air to cool his scorched tongue. He swallows and says, ‘You got a secret message. What does it say?’

‘If I would tell you, it wouldn’t be secret, would it?’

‘It would be a secret between you and me.’

‘I don’t share secrets with you.’

‘Hrm,’ answers Garret and puts more pie into his mouth. She watches him chew on his food and her rejection.
 

He shrugs. ‘Just thought you might need help from an accomplished cracksman.’

‘What’s a cracksman?’

‘A burglar.’

‘Is that your speciality?’

‘Best in the neighbourhood.’ He slaps his chest, blushes, and returns to eating.

Anna wonders whether he might indeed be able to help. ‘Finish your food,’ she says and puts money on the counter, nods at the landlord, and rises to her feet.

Big-eyed, Garret grabs the last pie, tips the entire ale down his throat, and follows her outside.

The door of the “Dog and Rat” slams shut and the two walk until they find a quiet place. ‘If you wanted to find a man, how would you go about it?’

Surprised, he cocks his head and squints down at her.
 

Her cheeks grow hot. ‘God, no, Garret!’ she cries and slaps her forehead.
 

‘What man?’

‘I don’t know his name.’

‘What do you want from him?’

‘Ah,’ she begins, her eyes searching the pavement for the proper words. ‘He’s hurt a girl. Cut her face open with a knife. The girl disappeared. The man will probably not come back. I want to know what happened to her and whether he somehow…made her disappear.’

‘Oh, that fella,’ grumbles Garret, and Anna’s heart hollers a wild
thump thump
.

‘You know who he is?’ she asks.

‘Of course not. Never seen his face. But I heard things.’

‘What things?’

‘Well-to-do fella who likes to run his knife over bare skin. Likes to leave marks. Nothing serious. Just…scratches.’ Garret stuffs his hands in his trouser pockets and looks at his shoes.

‘What else?’

‘People say that…that he likes it when women are bleeding. The monthly…thing.’

‘Menstruation,’ she supplies, trying not to slap her head again.

‘Yeah, that.’

‘Does he fuck them or is he only using his knife?’

Her words shake off Garret’s timidity. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Can you find out?’
 

He takes a step towards her. ‘You will not get near this fella.’

‘Why not?’ She crosses her arms over her chest.

‘How naive are you?’ he almost shouts.

‘Quite naive,’ she answers. ‘Do you know who he is? Or how I can find him?’

‘What’s on that message you hid in your sleeve when I entered the pub?’

‘Nothing of interest,’ she says.

‘Very well, then. If you don’t tell me, I won’t help you.’

She smoothes the front of her skirt, nods, and walks away.

‘Dammit!’ she hears Garret growl. Footfalls approach and he is at her side again.

‘What happened to your sister?’ she asks to distract him.

He stops and gapes at her, then opens his arms wide in puzzlement. ‘She…died.’

That worked well
, Anna scolds herself when Garret turns and walks away. She increases her speed and touches his arm. ‘I am sorry.’

He pulls up his broad shoulders, then lets them slump. ‘She had consumption. Mother still had years ’til she died. But my sister…’ He sighs and comes to a halt. ‘Ena was only four. It was quick.’
 

His brow in crinkles, he nods decisively, then sets one foot in front of the other again.
 

Anna touches his elbow. ‘Thank you for offering your help.’

‘Yeah,’ he answers and trots on. He stops at the front door to her home, takes her hand and squeezes it, then says, ‘You will not find the girl, Anna.’

‘Why do you believe that?’

‘What do you think happens to a whore who’s of no use to the madam?’ he asks softly, as though the truth, if spoken harshly, could knock her out.

‘She’s still a virgin,’ she protests. ‘She has perfect teeth. Only that scar—’

‘Listen to yourself!’ Garret barks. ‘Whores pay rent for the room they live in, fuck in, and wash their customers’ juices from their quims! If she cannot take a man, she cannot pay rent. She’ll be thrown out. That girl’s face is a mess! Everyone knows she didn’t want a cock in her mouth. She isn’t worth a farthing!’

At his last word, Anna slaps him hard in the face.

‘Dammit! That’s
not
how I meant it!’ he growls, holding his stinging cheek.

‘How did you mean it, then?’ she snarls back at him.

‘To the madam, she has no value. That girl didn’t leave. She got kicked out, and another girl will take her place tonight. Probably already has.’

They stare at each other. Anna knows he’s correct. She pictures herself showing up at the Bow Street Police Station and telling the bobbies a prostitute has disappeared. They’ll laugh, clap her shoulder, and tell her that this happens every day. Whores move to another madam, go back home to their mothers, or to a workhouse. Who cares? The police would probably tell her it was the girl’s own fault that a customer lost control when she wouldn’t satisfy him.

Anna sighs. ‘I know. And yet…’

‘And yet,’ he agrees. ‘You wish you could use your head to bang a hole through the wall.’

She graces him with a smile, softly places her hand on his reddened cheek, then disappears through the door.

The stairs up to her room seem unusually steep tonight.
 
She locks her room and gazes through the window until Garret’s back disappears. Then she spreads the crumpled note on the kitchen counter.

‘Useless,’ she mutters, wishing she could return to Clark’s Mews and shake all required information out of the woman.

Herbs

S
omewhere far away, church bells are banging. Respectable people get themselves a set of painful knees each while praying in church pews someplace other than St Giles. Here in the slums, morals have left long ago, or never actually arrived in the first place. Hence, this is no place for God-fearing folk. Or so the God-fearing folk believe.

Crossing the street and not even thinking of wasting her time with prayer, Anna bumps into Garret.

‘Oy, Anna! Where’re you heading?’ He eyes her rucksack.

‘Outing,’ she provides through a bit of apple in her mouth.

‘Did you hear that Maclean tried to kill the queen?’ Garret begins in the hope she’ll stay a little.

‘That was in March.’ She stops, swallows, and looks up at him in puzzlement. ‘Three years ago.’

‘I know.’ He pulls his eyebrows together. ‘I was just trying to chat you up.’

His honesty and drooping shoulders make her laugh. ‘I took a holiday. I want to collect medical herbs.’

‘What? Where?’ His face lights up from the unusually large amount of personal information she provides.

She smiles — more to herself than to anyone else and walks ahead.
 

Feeling oddly invited, he trots along.
 

‘I’ll take the train from Victoria Station down to Purley. It’ll be a nice day in the countryside.’
 

As though it needed checking, Garret looks up into the pale blue sky and nods, then sets eyes and nose at the potato man selling his wares out of his basement window. ‘Did you have breakfast?’ he enquires.

‘Yes,’ she says, and waits while he haggles for a particularly large and steamy specimen, which he begins to devour at once.

As they commence their stroll, Anna observes the man next to her and her reactions to him. Her fear of him has long disappeared. The curious mix of hard-boiled wisdom and child-like naivety, his heart at the tip of his tongue whenever they meet, make her feel safe. She feels respected despite his urge to protect her. He often appears out of nowhere, obviously keeping an eye on her, but all he has ever tried in terms of approach was to hold her hand. Whenever she withdraws it, he usually doesn’t pick it up for the remainder of the day. Not once has he attempted a kiss, a hug, or a touch anywhere other than her hand. ‘Thank you,’ she says softly.

‘Huh?’ he grunts through baked potato stuffed between his teeth.

‘For your company.’

His food lands in shrapnels on the pavement as he blurts out, ‘Fo Furley, foo?’
 

‘Would you like to come?’ She knows exactly that he does, but she wants to make him talk with a full mouth once more.
 

He nods. ‘Offcorffe!’

She tugs him along, tilting her face away from him to hide a smile.

The train is full and the two remain standing close to the door. At their feet is a stack of three small cages, four chickens squeezed into each one of them. Garret sticks out of the crowd because of his height, and Anna because of her hair. He tugs at a curl. ‘Why did you cut it so short?’

‘Because I wanted to,’ she says, and myriad memories roll over her. She looks up at Garret, and for the first time she feels a little sorry that she cannot tell him who she is. ‘Garret?’ she whispers and he lowers his head to hear her better over the rattling of wheels, chatter of passengers, and clucking of hens. She leans into him and sees his pupils dilate, his gaze travelling down to her lips. ‘There is a lot I cannot tell you about me.’

His urgent need to kiss her evaporates. He straightens up and looks out the window, sees London fly by, and curls his arm around the woman he suddenly fears to lose, although he’d never had her to begin with.

Surprised, she notices that his arm feels warm and pleasant where it rests. Her brain begins to scold her, lists the reasons why she shouldn’t let him get so near. Her heart, however, beats quicker and lets her know that she’s a human made of brain and heart and flesh and soul — wouldn’t it be a waste to nourish only part of oneself?
 

She lets the two sides argue and decides to form an opinion some other time.

Unspeaking, Garret and Anna walk out of Purley Station and through the small town out onto the meadows. He lies down in the grass and gazes up at the clouds while she picks yarrow and ribwort. Gradually, she drifts towards him and soon joins him in the shade of a lime tree. He watches her slender figure stretching up to pick blossoms from the tree. Finally, he dares to ask the question that has kept him silent for the past hour. ‘How often did you lie to me?’

‘Often.’ A matter-of-fact voice, directed not at him but at the tree — mute, safe for the buzzing of hundreds of bees.

He observes her calm moves, her set chin, and knows she won’t budge.

‘Why am I here?’ he asks.
 

She feels a stab in her chest, one that expels all air from the lungs and makes her realise that what she is choosing now will one day destroy their friendship, should they ever have one. Do they have one, already? Perhaps they do.

She drops her linen bags in the grass and sits down next to him. ‘When we met for the first time, you were but a stranger. Why would I reveal my secrets to a stranger?’