William Monk 16 - Execution Dock

tried to let his mind follow what Claudine would have thought. According to what Hester had from Ruby, Claudine was going to look for shops that sold pornographic photographs of little boys. He let out a howl of anguish at the idiocy of such a thing, but fortunately the driver did not hear him, or took no notice. A man could die in here, and no one would care, he thought aggrievedly And yet if the driver had stopped and come to inquire if he was all right, he would have been even angrier.
    On arriving he alighted, paid the cabby the fare, and gave him a tuppence tip, then started walking along the dockside to the nearest alley leading inland. The alleys were narrow, stifling in the heat as the sun rose towards midday. He had not been here in some time, and he had forgotten how disgusting they smelled.
    He knew where the brothels were, and the shops that sold pornography of all sorts. He began asking, casually at first. He wanted to know if anyone had seen a match seller answering Claudine's description. It was tedious. Many people were disinclined to reply with any degree of honesty.
    He had been working at it for two or three hours before he was mimicked, very disrespectfully, by a couple of urchins, and he realized with a shiver of horror how polite he had become. It was appalling. He had changed beyond all recognition from the man he used to be. He sounded like some daft old stranger.
    He lunged after one of the boys and caught him by the scruff of the neck. He lifted him right off the ground, feet dangling, and held him in the air.
    “Treat yer elders wi’ respect, yer piece o’ vermin,” he hissed at the child. “Or I'll teach yer the ‘ard way, an’ yer'll wish yer ‘adn't been born. Now I'll ask yer nice, one more time, because I don’ like twistin’ children's ‘eads off. Makes me tired, most especial it does on a summer day. Where did the match woman go as was ‘ere two days ago? Tell me no lies, ‘cause if yer do, I'll come lookin’ fer yer, in the middle o’ the night, when no one'll see wot I do ter yer. Got it?”
    The boy squealed, his eyes bulging with the savagery of the grip around his collar.
    Squeaky dropped him on the ground, and he howled.
    “Answer me, or yer'll be sorry,” Squeaky whispered, bending down till his face was close to the boy's. “She's a friend o’ mine, an’ I don't want nothin’ bad to ‘appen to ‘er, got it?”
    The boy whispered out a reply. Squeaky thanked him and walked away, leaving him to scramble to his feet and make for the nearest alley.
    Squeaky set out in the direction suggested, feeling guilty and a little self-conscious. What on earth was happening to him? He used to behave like that all the time. He had not actually hurt the child at all. In the past he might well have cuffed him round the ear until his head had buzzed. Was this what working for Hester Monk had done for him, made him soft? He would not be able to go back to the streets even if he wanted to. He was ruined!
    That wasn't the worst of it. He loped along the narrow footpath at alarming speed, always deeper into the warren of alleys, dead ends, and tunnels bending back on themselves towards the river again. But worse than actually becoming respectable was the secret knowledge he would admit to no one: he rather liked it.
    He asked more people: peddlers, shopkeepers, pawnbrokers, beggars. Some he threatened, some he bribed—which was really very painful indeed, because it was his own money.
    He traced her as far as the tobacconist and bookseller, where she had apparently collapsed and knocked into a man buying postcards, sending them all on to the floor. What on earth was the stupid woman playing at? But through his anger, which was really fear, he knew exactly what she was doing.
    With a little more threat, bribing, and invention he heard about her sudden hysterical flight, but no one knew where she had gone after two or three twists. Mad woman, they said. Who could explain anything she did? Drunk, most like. He wanted to knock them over for that. Claudine would never be drunk! Might be happier if she were, now and then.
    It was getting dark, and the clammy air of the day was cooling off Where the devil in hell was the woman? Anything could have happenedto her in these miserable alleys. At the very least she would be frightened, possibly worse than that. Another night was coming on. He began to lose his temper with people more genuinely. Perhaps the old Squeaky wasn't so