The Body at the Tower by Y. S. Lee Read Free Book Online Page B

nodded. In a well-run household, spent tea leaves were either used to clean carpets, or sold to a rag-and-bone man. Here, however, the nearby Thames served as sink, sewer, bathtub and well, all in one.
    When she returned, Jenkins was sniffing cautiously at the chipped milk jug. “Go halves?”
    Mary shook her head. It was probably out of character to decline free food of any sort, but there were little curds of solid milk clinging to the edges of the pitcher, and the fluid itself was a funny bluish grey. She just couldn’t bring herself to drink it.
    He knocked that back, too, then pulled a face. “Phew. Bit past it, that.”
    Mary grinned. She could remember a time when she’d have choked back the milk, too. “I’ll put all this away. Then what?”
    “Back to work, if you’s such a goody-goody.”
    “And if I’m not?”
    “’Up to you, isn’t it?”

Six

    “B it slippy out here,” said the coachman as he unfolded the carriage steps. He held out his arm, much as he would to a lady.
    The boots that swung out of the carriage were distinctly male, as was the hand that waved him away. “I’m perfectly able to descend three steps unassisted, Barker.” To prove it, he climbed down quickly and slammed the carriage door himself. He was far from old – his hair was dark, unmixed with grey, and his face was unlined – but he didn’t move like a young man. There was something stiff about his gait.
    Barker was unperturbed. “Very good, sir.”
    The gentleman scanned the building site, a deep frown drawing his brows together. The Palace, still unfinished after all these years, loomed over the workers like an ungainly child squatting over an anthill. “You may go; I’ll get a cab when I’m done.”
    “If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’ll wait. It may be difficult to find a cab in these parts.”
    Difficult to find a taxi, in front of the blasted Houses of Parliament? His head swivelled sharply towards the coachman. “George told you to wait?”
    Barker didn’t even have the grace to look sheepish. “Yes, sir.”
    He sighed. There was no point in making a scene now. But once he got hold of his infernal, domineering, bleating nanny of a brother, he would create such a stinking row that no one would doubt he was entirely recovered. “I’ll be no more than half an hour.”
    “Very good, sir.”
    The young-old man stood on the pavement, taking in the scene. It was strange to be back on an English building site. In the smoggy London daylight the workmen looked pale and drawn, their tools dull. It was a chalky light, a light that greyed everything it touched. For a moment, despite all that had happened in India, he found himself longing for the hectic tropical sunshine that polished objects to brilliance and made colours glow. He hadn’t fully understood the meaning of “illumination” until he’d gone east.
    He shivered automatically, then glanced over his shoulder to see if Barker had noticed. As well as being grey and sooty, London was damp. Although he would never admit it to George, he was perpetually cold these days, even in his winter suits. Never mind. He straightened, walked through the site gate with a firm, even step, and rapped twice on the door-frame of the flimsy office shed.
    “Young James Easton! My dear fellow!” Philip Harkness sprang from his chair and shook his hand enthusiastically. “How absolutely delightful to see you once more. How long has it been?” He was talking very loudly, in the way people often do to the elderly.
    James knew he was rather altered since he’d last seen Harkness, but the man’s look of pity was still disheartening. “Hello, Harkness. I believe it’s been a little more than two years.”
    “Yes, yes – I believe you were engaged in an Oriental venture until quite recently!”
    This was disingenuous; the man knew very well what had taken him abroad, and why he was back in England. It was probably why Harkness had asked him to call; everyone wanted to