Chapter Sixteen
MURDOCH CALLED ON SEVEN other applicants on his list, all of them “approved.” Only one of these, a man with a broken leg, whined that Howard had not given him as much help as he needed and he was worried that the pastor’s death might slow down his ongoing application for relief. There were few comments from the others, who all had learned to be wary of policemen asking questions. Self-interest was uppermost and they were all concerned about who would take over now that Howard was dead. “He treated me like I were a real person, not a number on a list, the way most of them do,” said one woman who was close to her confinement and no husband in sight. By eight o’clock, Murdoch was tired and ravenous. He decided to start fresh in the morning and finish for the day.
As he got to his lodgings, he could see there was a party going on. The curtains were not yet drawn in the front parlour and light was spilling out onto the street. All the movable furniture had been pushed back to the walls. Amy was standing on a chair with her hands cupped in a whistling position and Seymour and Katie were executing an energetic, if constricted two step in the tiny space in the centre of the room. Murdoch could hear Seymour’s whoops and Katie’s laughter. He stepped up to the window and, leaning in close, rapped hard. Seymour waved, twirled his partner wildly, and they both dropped breathlessly onto the couch. Amy stopped whistling, jumped off the chair, and beckoned to Murdoch to come in. She was wearing the smock and pantaloons that she favoured for home.
Perversely, he felt a pang at the scene as if he were an outsider, the hungry boy at the butcher’s shop window. He let himself into the hall, hung up his hat and coat, and opened the door to the parlour. Seymour greeted him with more exuberance than Murdoch had ever seen him express before.
“Will, come in. Katie and I just did a Scottish reel, would you believe? At least I think it was a reel. I know there was a lot of leaping about on the part of my partner and I just tried to imitate her as best I could.”
Katie, who usually looked pale and worried, was flushed with the exertion, her hair dishevelled and her eyes shining. Murdoch saw how pretty she could be when she wasn’t weighed down with the care of her children.
“Miss Slade is as good as an entire military band,” she laughed. “And I was not leaping about, as you put it, Charlie. You have to do pirouettes.”
“It certainly looked energetic at least,” said Murdoch. “The entire street was enjoying the show.”
“Oh dear, I’d better draw the curtains,” said Katie and she hurried to do so.
“Why don’t you have a go, Will,” said Seymour. “Katie can manage another dance, I’m sure.”
Murdoch backed away. “Not tonight, thanks. I’d be worse than a sack of potatoes.”
They all sensed the change of mood he’d brought into the room but mistook the reason for it.
“You look famished,” said Katie. “Come into the kitchen and I’ll get you your supper. I made a pork hash tonight and I know you like that.”
Murdoch glanced around the room. “Where are the boys?”
“In my room,” answered Amy. “They’re sleeping soundly.”
“Not for long, I’m afraid,” said Katie. “They’re teething and it’s making them mardy. I hope we won’t disturb you tonight.”
“I think I’ll sleep like a log, don’t worry.”
A wailing from the other room corroborated Katie’s statement and she laughed. “I’ll tend to them and be with you in a minute, Mr. Murdoch.”
“I can handle it myself, Katie, don’t worry.”
“I’ll keep you company,” said Seymour. “Are you coming too, Amy?”
She shook her head. “I have to prepare my lessons for tomorrow.”
Murdoch felt a pang of disappointment, which he quickly suppressed. “What are you going to do with the little arabs?”
“I was going to teach some Canadian literature for a change, but the inspector will be dropping in this week so I had better impress him.” Amy had strong views about the school system and had got into hot water a couple of times for criticizing the curriculum. “I’ll have to find yet another poem about the lovely birds and woods of England.” She clasped her hands together, blew through her laced fingers, and made a few birdlike trills.
Murdoch and Seymour applauded her, then reluctantly Murdoch followed his friend to the kitchen, which was fragrant with the smell of fried onions.
He took the plate from the oven. His dinner was strips of pork from the previous night’s roast, cooked with fried onions and served with generous helpings of boiled cabbage and potatoes. He sat down at the place prepared for him. Seymour took the chair across from him.
“Any progress?”
“None at all, I regret to say. As far as I can tell he didn’t have an enemy in the world. He was a saint walking the earth.”
“A surprise attack, then? A burglar?”
Katie came into the room. “They’ve quieted down. Oh you got your dinner already.”
“I did and it smells wonderful, thank you.”
“We have a currant pudding for the sweet, so leave a bit of room for that.”
“Katie says it’s called half-pay pudding because it’s cheap to make but it’s delicious,” said Seymour. He smiled so fondly that Murdoch blinked. Good Lord, was the bachelor sergeant falling in love with the young widow? Enid Jones had warned him months ago about affection engendered by proximity not being the same as true love, but he could see why it might happen. Welcome a man home after a long shift of duty, feed him hot tasty food, do his laundry for him, which he knew Katie did, be glad to see him, and before you knew it, romance blossomed.
“I’d better get back,” said Katie. Murdoch noticed how Seymour followed her with his eyes as she left.
The two men talked more about the case while Murdoch ate, then they lingered for an hour to smoke a pipe. Murdoch had been intending to resist the temptation, but the sight and smell of the tobacco was too much and he joined Seymour. Katie did not return and Amy Slade remained in her room. Finally Seymour stood up.
“I’m on duty tomorrow, so I’d better climb the wooden hill. You should too, by the look of you.”
“I will. I’m just digesting my dinner a bit longer.”
“Good night then.”
They shook hands and Seymour left. He didn’t call out a goodnight to Amy, so Murdoch assumed she had extinguished her lamps and gone to bed. He hoped the inspector’s visit would go well. He knew she was an excellent teacher, he’d observed her once or twice before, but she was so radical in her methods that more than once she had upset the school trustees. One of them had heard her whistling to the children and told her dourly, “‘A whistling woman and a crowing hen, is no good to God or men.’”
Amy had laughed at that, but Murdoch knew she’d had to be more careful with what she did in the classroom. And her clothes. Rational Dress, she called it and she was right it was very sensible and rational for an active woman, but she’d told him that more than once she’d been shouted at by men as she walked home. Murdoch’s thoughts jumped to Liza. His fiancée had been radical in many ways too but conservative in others. He suddenly wished he had her photograph in front of him. Her face was becoming less vivid in his mind. It had been more than two years since she had died suddenly from typhoid fever and the feeling of loss came and went in its intensity. Tonight it was acute and he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was seeing what was happening to Seymour. Did Katie return his affections? She was considerably younger, but Murdoch thought she did have that soft glow about her these days that women get when they are falling in love and are loved in return.
He banged his pipe on the side of the stove to knock out the ashes and went his own way up the wooden hill.
Katie had been right when she warned him about the twins being in the throws of teething. Their intermittent crying had kept him awake most of the night. Finally, at four o’clock he put on his shirt and trousers and went downstairs. As he approached the parlour that was now Katie’s room, both boys were in pained and lusty voice. He had to tap on the door twice before it opened a crack and Katie’s haggard face peered out.
“Mr. Murdoch, I’m so sorry you’ve been wakened as well. I can’t quiet them no how.”
“I thought another pair of hands might help matters.”
Katie was holding one of the twins and Murdoch took a quick glance at the baby’s clenched fist as he waved it ferociously in the air. James had a small birthmark on his wrist. This was Jacob.
“Why don’t I give him a walk around the premises. A change of scene might help.”
“Well, I … oh thank you.” She was too tired to argue. Murdoch put his candlestick on the hall table and accepted the transfer of the tightly wrapped baby.
“I’ll tend to James,” she said and retreated into her room where the other twin was wailing.
Whether from surprise at this new person, or whether he was just too exhausted to carry on, Jacob stopped crying. Gently, Murdoch straightened the baby’s bonnet that had slipped down his forehead and wiped away some of the tears and drool with his cuff. Jacob grabbed his hand and immediately tried to stuff the knuckles into his mouth. Murdoch could feel the bumpy edge of the gums as the baby chomped down. Murdoch started to walk down the hall, jiggling the boy as he did so.
“Teeth are good things on the whole, little fellow. You can get to bite into all sorts of things like apples and pears. The best kind are the ones you can pick right off the tree, even better if the farmer is an old coot who doesn’t want you to. Those taste real good.” He paused and looked into Jacob’s wide eyes. “No, forget I said that. I don’t want you starting into a life of crime. Let’s see, what else? You can eat crusts of bread that are still warm from the oven with fresh butter and a piece of cheese on the top. And sometimes the best thing in the world is a thick pork chop slathered with onions. Hmm, you need teeth to do all that. So this bit of suffering now is going to be worth it.”
He didn’t think this was the time to warn Jacob that later in life teeth could be a big problem if they decayed, as he knew only too well. The baby sniffled a little and looked as if he was going to howl again. Murdoch balanced him in one arm and loosened up the tight blanket.
“How’s that? You seem hot to me.”
Jacob looked into his face with the into-the-soul stare that infants have, but he didn’t cry. By the time they’d made the third trip down the hall, he even seemed to be on the verge of nodding off. With a groan at his aching muscles, Murdoch shifted him to the other arm, just as the door to Amy’s room opened and she emerged, in the red quilted house gown he’d seen her in yesterday.
“William, I didn’t expect to see you up at this hour.”
“Jacob and I are having a little constitutional. I’ve been telling him about the value of teeth.”
She smiled. “It sounds as if you need to give the same talk to his brother.” James was still yelling.
She tapped at Katie’s door and went in. Murdoch heard murmured voices, then the baby stopped crying and a few minutes later, Katie emerged.
“Miss Slade has ordered me to go to bed. I’m going to get a little nap in her room. Please wake me in half an hour, Mr. Murdoch. And thank you so much.”
She didn’t even check her child, the lure of a short sleep propelling her away. She went into Amy’s room and closed the door. The house was suddenly quiet. Jacob was asleep, making little snuffling noises and Murdoch withdrew his knuckle, wiping it on his shirt. His arms and back were aching and he suddenly felt desperately tired. He didn’t dare go back to Katie’s room, where it sounded as if Amy had calmed the other twin, in case they both woke up again. He walked to the hall stand and sat down on the chair next to it. He leaned his head against the wall, wedged the baby in the crook of his arm, and closed his eyes.
He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep, but he woke with a start. The light in the hall was the grey of dawn and he saw that his candle had burned down. He was no longer holding Jacob. Somebody had removed the boy from his arms. He sat up straight and almost yelped at the stab of pain from the crick in his neck. The hall was chilly, but there was a cover around his legs and bare feet. He yawned and heard the clock in the kitchen chime the hour. It was six o’clock. Katie’s door opened and Amy came out. She was dressed and had even pinned up her hair. He couldn’t believe how fresh she looked considering she too had had a broken night.
“Good morning, William,” she said, speaking in a low voice. “Everybody’s asleep, but I thought I might as well light the stove ready for breakfast.”
He rubbed his neck. “You took Jacob, I assume.”
“Yes, you were both dead to the world. The twins are still sleeping, bless them, and Katie hasn’t moved in the last two hours.”
“What about you? Did you get back to sleep?”
“Not really. When I’m up, I’m up. Why don’t you come down to the kitchen and I’ll make us some tea.”
Stiffly, Murdoch got to his feet. He couldn’t turn his head.
“You look as if you’ve got a crick in your neck,” she said. “Let me get the fire going then I’ll give it a rub. I used to do that for my brothers and I warn you I have fingers of steel.”
“I’ll accept any pain if you can restore my neck to flesh.”
He followed her into the kitchen. In spite of his fatigue and soreness, he was suddenly very happy.