William Monk 14 - The Shifting Tide

her.
    He leaned against the wooden tub, his legs suddenly weak as well. His face had lost all its color except a sickly yellow in the candlelight, and slowly he slid down until he was sitting on the floor.
    “Gawd ’elp us!” he breathed out. “Well, fer a start, we in’t tellin’ nobody, nobody at all! Then we in’t lettin’ nobody out o’ ’ere. It spreads like”—he smiled bitterly, his voice catching in his throat—“like the plague!”
    The tears ran down her face, and she took several seconds to control them and to stop her breath from coming in gasps and choking her. He was going to help. He had said
we
, not
you
. She nodded. “I want to give her a decent burial, but I can’t afford to let anyone see her body. Nothing else causes dark swellings like that. Anyone would know.”
    He rubbed the heel of his hand across his cheek. “We gotter stop that at any price at all,” he said hoarsely. “If folks know, there’d be some as’d mob this place, others as’d put a torch ter it, burn yer down, ’ouse an’ everyone in it! It’d be terrible.”
    “It would be better than having the plague spread throughout London,” she pointed out.
    “Miss ’Ester . . .”
    “I know! I’ve no intention of being burned alive! But how can we keep everyone here? How do I stop Claudine from going home if she wants to, or Flo from leaving, or anyone who gets better . . . if they do?” Her voice was wavering again. “How do I get food in, or water, or coal . . . or anything?”
    He said nothing for several seconds.
    Hester waited. The laundry was strangely silent. It smelled of fat and potash and the steam that filled it during the day. The one candle with its yellow circle of light made the darkness seem endless.
    “We gotta make certain no one leaves,” Sutton said finally. “I got friends as’ll ’elp, but it won’t be nice.” He looked at her intently. “We gotta do it fer real, Miss ’Ester. No one gotta leave, no matter wot. In’t no room fer ’sorry’ in this. If yer right, an’ that’s wot she ’ad, then better some dead ’ere fer tryin’ ter leave than ’alf o’ Europe dead ’cos we let ’em.”
    “What can we do?” she asked.
    “I got friends wi’ dogs, not nice little ratters like Snoot ’ere, but pit bulls as’d tear yer throat out. I’ll ask ’em ter patrol ’round the place, front an’ back. They’ll make sure fer certain as no one leaves. An’ I’ll get fellers as’ll bring food an’ water an’ coal, o’ course. An’ we’ll spread the word as the clinic is full, so yer can’t take nobody else in, no matter wot’s ’appened to ’em.”
    “We can’t pay them,” she pointed out. “And we can’t tell them why!”
    “They’ll do it ’cos I ask ’em,” he answered. “Yer doin’ enough for folks ’round ’ere. An’ I’ll tell ’em it’s cholera. That’ll do.”
    She nodded. “Would . . . would we really set the dogs on anyone? I mean . . . I don’t think I . . .”
    “Yer won’t ’ave ter,” he answered her. “I’ll do it.”
    “Would you?” she whispered, her throat tight.
    “We gotter,” he answered. “One death, quick. In’t that better than lettin’ it get out?”
    She tried to say yes, but her mouth was so dry the word was a croak.
    There was a sound outside the door and a moment later it opened. Mercy Louvain stood in the entrance, a candlestick in her hand.
    “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said a little awkwardly. “But do you need Claudine to stay tonight?”
    Hester glanced at Sutton, then back at Mercy. “Yes,” she said hoarsely. She swallowed. “Sorry, I’m so tired my voice is going. Yes, please. Don’t let her go home.”
    “She won’t mind, I don’t think,” Mercy answered. “Are you all right? Do we have a lot of rats?”
    “Not bad,” Sutton replied, climbing to his feet. “But we’ll get rid of ’em, don’t worry. I just need ter go an’ get a few more things done, see a couple o’ friends, like, then I’ll be back. Yer jus’ get yerselves a cup o’ tea, or summink. Don’t do nothin’ till I come back.” That was said firmly, like an order.
    “No, of course not,” Hester agreed. “We’ll just . . . get everybody supper. Thank you.”
    Sutton left, and Hester did as she had said she would, measuring out the food carefully; now it was even more precious than before. She was conscious that Claudine and Mercy were both watching her with surprise and a shadow of anxiety. She