Read Online Let Loose the Dogs by Maureen Jennings - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Maureen Jennings
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lightly on the cheek. “By the way, James, you are looking most fearful. I’ve told you many times, you must never show fear. Never.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.” James summoned up his characteristic, sunny smile.
“That’s better. You must take a lesson from what happened to that poor sod, Harry Murdoch. He was his own worst enemy.”
“I didn’t know you felt sorry for him, Papa.”
Craig shrugged. “Of course I do. Not a lot but somewhat. Now off to bed with you. In the morning we’ll go out and have another look around. He just may have left something behind, although I doubt it. This man is experienced.”
James kissed him good night and left. Craig didn’t move but stood and chafed his cold hands again. He knew he wouldn’t sleep yet; his blood was still racing. He needed a bit of soothing, a release. He made his way up the rear stairs, past the second-floor landing to the third. There were two chambers up here. One was used as a storage room; the other was where his sister-in-law slept. He opened the door to this room and went inside. “Carmel,” he whispered. “Carmel, wake up, dear, it’s me.”
Jessica didn’t want to go back to bed just yet. Walter was not a heavy sleeper, and it seemed that the smallest movement on her part woke him. She’d half expected him to be waiting at the door. She knew it came from love, but his solicitude was oppressing her, ultimately futile. He could not help her, could not offer any relief from her torment.
She didn’t risk raking the coals even though she was chilled to the bone. Her boots were worn thin at the soles, and her stockings were damp from the snow that had leaked through. In her crib, Sally turned and cried out, “Mama, Mama.” Jessica went over to her, but she was fast asleep. She looked flushed, and in a rush of alarm Jessica touched her forehead. She was warm but not overly so, and Jessica pulled back the coverlet to cool her. Then, wrapping her hands in the ends of her shawl, she began to pace around the room. A large Bible was on its special stand by the window and she halted in front of it, touching the soft leather cover as if it were a live creature. She opened it at the back page where her mother had written down the family tree as she remembered it.
Evangeline Plain had married Josiah Watkins. They had seven children of whom four had lived to adulthood, Phoebe, Thomas, David, and the youngest, Jessica.
She moved her finger along the careful handwriting. Jessica had married Walter Lacey. Her mother had given her the Bible as a wedding present, and Jessica remembered how proudly and carefully she had entered the name of her firstborn, Sarah, called Sally, born October 30, 1891. There was another line underneath ready for the next entry, and Walter had written Sylvanus. The foetus had not been viable, but according to the church he had lived long enough inside her to have a soul and his christening and burial had been simultaneous. Jessica pressed her own breasts. If the infant had gone full term, he would have been suckling now.
She stood for a moment and touched the Bible reverentially. She had witnessed her mother many times gain solace from what she insisted was the word of God made manifest, and Jessica desperately needed guidance. She opened the book at Proverbs and without looking ran her finger down the page, continuing as prayerfully as she could until she felt the impulse to stop. She looked down. She had halted at chapter 30, verses 15–16.
The horseleach hath two daughters, crying Give, give. There are three things that are never satisfied, yea, four things say, It is not enough:
The grave; and the barren womb; the earth that is not filled with water; and the fire that saith not, It is enough.
The words became shards of glass in her throat.
Chapter Twelve
T HE D ON J AIL , an imposing grey stone building, was set back from the street on a slight rise so that it was visible to the neighbourhood. A broad gravel
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.” James summoned up his characteristic, sunny smile.
“That’s better. You must take a lesson from what happened to that poor sod, Harry Murdoch. He was his own worst enemy.”
“I didn’t know you felt sorry for him, Papa.”
Craig shrugged. “Of course I do. Not a lot but somewhat. Now off to bed with you. In the morning we’ll go out and have another look around. He just may have left something behind, although I doubt it. This man is experienced.”
James kissed him good night and left. Craig didn’t move but stood and chafed his cold hands again. He knew he wouldn’t sleep yet; his blood was still racing. He needed a bit of soothing, a release. He made his way up the rear stairs, past the second-floor landing to the third. There were two chambers up here. One was used as a storage room; the other was where his sister-in-law slept. He opened the door to this room and went inside. “Carmel,” he whispered. “Carmel, wake up, dear, it’s me.”
Jessica didn’t want to go back to bed just yet. Walter was not a heavy sleeper, and it seemed that the smallest movement on her part woke him. She’d half expected him to be waiting at the door. She knew it came from love, but his solicitude was oppressing her, ultimately futile. He could not help her, could not offer any relief from her torment.
She didn’t risk raking the coals even though she was chilled to the bone. Her boots were worn thin at the soles, and her stockings were damp from the snow that had leaked through. In her crib, Sally turned and cried out, “Mama, Mama.” Jessica went over to her, but she was fast asleep. She looked flushed, and in a rush of alarm Jessica touched her forehead. She was warm but not overly so, and Jessica pulled back the coverlet to cool her. Then, wrapping her hands in the ends of her shawl, she began to pace around the room. A large Bible was on its special stand by the window and she halted in front of it, touching the soft leather cover as if it were a live creature. She opened it at the back page where her mother had written down the family tree as she remembered it.
Evangeline Plain had married Josiah Watkins. They had seven children of whom four had lived to adulthood, Phoebe, Thomas, David, and the youngest, Jessica.
She moved her finger along the careful handwriting. Jessica had married Walter Lacey. Her mother had given her the Bible as a wedding present, and Jessica remembered how proudly and carefully she had entered the name of her firstborn, Sarah, called Sally, born October 30, 1891. There was another line underneath ready for the next entry, and Walter had written Sylvanus. The foetus had not been viable, but according to the church he had lived long enough inside her to have a soul and his christening and burial had been simultaneous. Jessica pressed her own breasts. If the infant had gone full term, he would have been suckling now.
She stood for a moment and touched the Bible reverentially. She had witnessed her mother many times gain solace from what she insisted was the word of God made manifest, and Jessica desperately needed guidance. She opened the book at Proverbs and without looking ran her finger down the page, continuing as prayerfully as she could until she felt the impulse to stop. She looked down. She had halted at chapter 30, verses 15–16.
The horseleach hath two daughters, crying Give, give. There are three things that are never satisfied, yea, four things say, It is not enough:
The grave; and the barren womb; the earth that is not filled with water; and the fire that saith not, It is enough.
The words became shards of glass in her throat.
Chapter Twelve
T HE D ON J AIL , an imposing grey stone building, was set back from the street on a slight rise so that it was visible to the neighbourhood. A broad gravel
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