Murder by Sarah Pinborough Page B

you?’ Andrews said quietly. ‘You didn’t so much as move an inch.’
    ‘I’m afraid I do not know,’ I said. ‘My reactions are not what they were when I was a young man – perhaps it was shock?’
    My friend did not look convinced, and I am certain I saw more than a little disappointment in his eyes. What could I say? That I was terrified of the river on some deep subconscious level, of what might be in it? That the thought of pressing my mouth to the boy’s and
tasting
the river filled me with dread? For even if there was no
Upir
, the memory of my own madness had been thrown into that river and I was becoming more and more fearful of its resurrection. Everywhere I turned, pieces of the past were gathering around me.
    ‘I feel some shame at my inaction, Walter. I truly do, but James will be fine.’
    ‘Thankfully.’
    ‘He should not have been out on the water anyway,’ I said, suddenly feeling the need to defend myself. ‘Juliana would not have allowed it.’ I spoke louder than I had intended and Kane looked up, guilt filling his dark eyes.
    ‘He wanted to go fishing. I thought it would be harmless.’
    ‘Come, come, Thomas,’ Hebbert interjected, ‘we swam in worse when we were boys, surely? I know I certainly did. And the boat was securely fastened and close to the bank. Let’s not make too big a fuss of all this, eh? Edward’s company has been good for the boy; none of us can doubt that.’
    Outside the sunshine was fading and heavy grey storm clouds had gathered, hanging low and pressing against the glass as if to watch us all growling at each other.
    ‘You’re very calm about what could have been a terrible accident,’ I said. ‘Your grandson could have died. Perhaps you are more
laissez faire
about death than I.’ The words came out in drops of acid.
    ‘Thomas!’ Andrews exclaimed, as Hebbert’s eyes widened. ‘What a thing to say! At least he ran to help.’
    ‘Yes – where were you?’ Hebbert bit back. ‘It’s obvious you care little for the boy, but to stand at a distance and watch? That is colder than I imagined even you were capable of.’
    And so the gloves were off. We glared at each other, Charles Hebbert and I. In the history of our friendship we had never had a single angry exchange – but perhaps I had never really known the man at all. He was, after all, a man who had had terrible dreams of blood as Jack murdered on our streets, and a man whose whereabouts could not be accounted for during those times.
    Or perhaps it was I who was sinking back into madness after my paranoid delusions of years before.
    Either way, I felt the heat rise in my stomach. ‘Whatever you believe of my feelings towards the boy, I would not have taken the child out onto the river, not without his mother’s permission. And neither will I excuse or laugh off such anaction. James is Juliana’s son and it is her place and her place alone to decide these things.’
    My suspicion of Hebbert and my jealousy of Kane were rolling into one mass of emotion, and I was too tired to watch my tongue. But still I asked myself,
What is happening to us?
Ever since Kane’s arrival my world had started changing again, and pleasant as he might be, I was beginning to hate him for that. I wanted to get home to my laudanum and brandy and the quiet of my study and forget for a while that the normality I had worked so hard to rebuild was crumbling.
    ‘He’s right,’ Kane said quietly. ‘He’s absolutely right. I didn’t think – but James was so keen, and I took such care with the boat … I thought maybe if I presented it as a done deal she’d realise he would be safe.’
    ‘He’s not your child,’ I reiterated, all the while squirming inside at the sanctimonious tenor of my voice. ‘His father is dead.’ The image rose up unbidden of Harrington’s face as I slashed at him with the broken glass. ‘Whatever your feelings for Juliana, do not confuse them with having rights that are solely