Alice Rackham by F.R. Jameson

Author:F.R. Jameson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: F.R. Jameson
Published: 2018-09-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

With great show and precision, as if all his life he’d been frustrated in the police force and instead wanted to be a stage magician like Alice’s uncle, Wedgewood held the briefcase up and undid both clasps simultaneously with his thumbs.

“Wedgewood!” Sir Harold cried. “What on earth are you doing?”

He grinned crookedly at his former employer, and pushed his tongue into his left cheek like he was hunting a lost humbug. His expression made clear that he’d long hoped the day would come when he could make this great knight eat stinking turds. For such a huge, bulky and unattractive man, there was a delicacy to Wedgewood’s movements. A strange, slow gentleness. He licked his lips as he pushed two empty champagne flutes out of the way and then undid the final top clasp of the case. Pausing before the big reveal.

All the time, Sir Harold was speaking to him. His voice becoming faster and faster, betraying his anxiety.

“Please, Mr Wedgewood, I implore you. Whatever you’re going to do, please don’t. Think of all the trust and comradeship which has built up between us over the last few years. I’ve taken care of you, looked after you, paid your bills. I’ve been there for you as you’ve been there for me. I’ve helped you just as you’ve helped me. Please don’t throw all that away now. Don’t toss it in the rubbish as if it was all nothing. Be kind, not cruel.”

He must have known by this point that Wedgewood was unstoppable, but still he tried.

“I’m sure we can come to some arrangement, Mr Wedgewood. I’m sure, if I put my mind to it, I could increase your salary and give you more than my dear wife would even contemplate. And wouldn’t you like to be on the right side, Mr Wedgewood? Wouldn’t you like to be on the side of love and truth, and not spite?” He spat that last word out, barely able now to hold back his fury.

Alice’s fingers seemed to have got colder, but they stayed tight around mine. I glanced at each lady in turn. Enid was puffed full of smugness now, Alice was a study in grey worry.

“Harold! What is this?” Alice demanded. “What on earth has the man got?”

“Oh, it’s just the incontrovertible proof that you’re a lying tart,” Enid told her in her upper-class drawl. “It’s proof and – hilariously – Harold is the one who actually went about collecting it.”

A peal of thunder burst right above us. Inside the bar, the chandeliers shook and the lights flickered for just an instant. Even if we suffered a direct strike, though, nothing was going to stop this happening.

Sweat was pouring down Sir Harold’s brow; Alice’s English rose complexion had become seasick green. Her hand slipped out of mine. I was happy to let it go.

Wedgewood gave a slurp as he opened the case, a revolting sound which gurgled on his lips as if it was giving him pleasure.

Then he pulled out a sheaf of papers and spread them with his big calloused hand across the table in front of him.

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