Cruel and Unusual - serialised novel EXCLUSIVE to Steemit Part 22

Exclusive for Steemit - serialisation of Cruel and Unusual – my second novel

Episodes:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

Pictures from Google Images and Pixabay

Jack was more than relieved when he at last recognised his street.

“You can stop now. Wait a moment,” he said and fished in his pockets. He drew out a florin, a sixpence and three pennies. “Will that do?” he asked.

“Do for what? I don’t want your money. I didn’t ‘elp you for money.”

“What did you help me for then?” He stood looking at her, his hand still outstretched to her with the coins in his fingers.

“Listen doctor,” her voice had lost the squawkiness of earlier and was now altogether more pleasant on his ears. “You ‘elped my ‘ole mum when she was in that work’ouse hospital. She died all the same but you ‘elped ‘er before she went.”

“That’s my job, but why did you not say so when you first saw me?”

“I weren’t sure it was you. And ‘sides, it weren’t safe to announce that you are a doctor. What on earth you were doing down that part of town, I don’t know, but you’re not safe, dressed like a toff an’ all, there. Someone’ll skin ya, soon as look at ya even if all the money you have on ya is a florin and nine pence. Go on; get off home before your neighbours see you talkin’ to the likes o’ me.”

He grabbed her wrist and forced the money into her hand. “It really is all that I have on me, but thank you. I have been silly and reckless this evening.”

“Yeah, you ‘ave,” she said as she disappeared back into the shadow lands that she inhabited.

“That was lucky, doctor,” a nightmarish growl of a voice came from the shadows that the woman had disappeared into moments before.

“Oh good God!” Jack said and sprinted for his front door. Mocking laughter followed him as he fumbled with his key.

He locked the door and ran into the kitchen to ensure that it was also locked. Then he stumbled to his dining room and made straight for the brandy to calm his nerves. He eventually fell into a fitful and disturbed sleep in his chair. More nightmarish figures assaulted him in his dreams and when he finally awoke, his head was thick with a hangover and his stomach was heaving.

He had awoken with a start and in his dazed and hung-over state, thought that he was late for work until he remembered that he was recuperating until after the weekend. Hearing bustling about in the kitchen, he called out for the maid. “Lizzie!”

“Ooh, yes sir. I was thinking that you must have gone to work already. Oh sir, you do look awful, can I get you anything?”

“Yes Lizzie, please could you get me a pitcher of water; I am quite unwell and cannot bear the thought of food at this time.”

“I shall get it right away sir,” she bobbed her head and left him.

“Now, can I get you anything else sir?” Lizzie said as she placed the pitcher of cold water on the table close to him.

“Not just now, Lizzie, I shall go back to bed I think.”

He didn’t catch the look of disdain that his maid gave to his retreating back. She was thinking, “I think ‘go back to bed,’ you’ve not even been to bed yet and you smell like a brewery. No wonder you don’t want to go to work. It’s the start of ruin if you ask me.” She shook her head as she went back to her chores, thinking that though her family were poor as church mice, none of them drank too much of an evening - well not so that it stopped them getting up and going out to the work that they were lucky enough to have.

Jack was very ill and slept through the day and on into the evening. Lizzie did knock on his door as she was about to leave, telling him that his lunch had been prepared but not completed, giving his state of health she doubted that he would be able to eat. He muttered in his sleep which she took as an answer and she left.

As the window began to grow darker and his room was enveloped by the growing dusk, Jack improved. He had consumed nothing but water all day and his head was beginning to clear. He decided that it had been the whisky that had made him so ill, it had definitely not been ‘the good stuff’ and was probably distilled around the back of the pub which he had been drinking at.

A trip over to his club would set him to rights. He would have to make a good show of his recovery to Sir Matthew on the morning and he determined to curb his drinking so as not to get into the same state as he had been that morning. He washed and shaved then took a Hackney Cab to the Gentleman’s club where he dined on a regular basis.

The next day, as he got to the hospital, Sir Matthew was waiting for his arrival. Jack was perturbed at the sight of him but could not think that he had anything to worry about, the older gentleman was probably curious as to his health from the scare he had given them at the theatre.

Sir Matthew did ask after Jack’s well-being but that was not the reason for his reception as Jack arrived at work. He had disturbing news.

“The young woman that you were autopsying on Thursday, what did you do with the body?”

“What did I do with it?” Jack repeated the question in puzzlement. “Why, Gregory took over from me as I went home early that evening, to get ready for the theatre. Sir Matthew, what is wrong?”

“It is disturbing news, I am afraid. Gregory has not been seen since Thursday and to all appearances, he has made off with a cadaver.”

Jack thought that he had somehow misheard the other. “Gregory is missing and so is the corpse?”

“Gone, and so is the autopsy report that you made. I take it that you wrote everything in the ledger?”

Jack nodded and said “Yes, I did everything as I usually do. I wrote as I worked.” They were walking towards the pathology labs as they discussed the puzzling episode and as they inspected the ledger, Jack realised that the autopsy report that had been recorded by him had been removed from the large book with expert skill, using a sharp blade so that the sheets that pertained to that one particular autopsy would not be seen to be missing unless they were searched for.

Sir Matthew was at a loss.

“What should we do? I have never known anything like this before, a surgeon stealing a body and going missing? Whatever next?” Jack said, half to himself.

Sir Matthew was in much the same state of bewilderment and he assured Jack that it would be dealt with and not to worry, especially after the health-scare that he had gone through over the weekend. So Jack left it all to Sir Matthew but wondered about the corpse, he recognised the wounds and realised that he had felt the same wounds in his dream. To disguise his shock at that memory, Jack turned away and went right to work.