The Last Confession of Thomas Hawkins - [58]

My head whirled. Howard was mad enough to shoot her and powerful enough to get away with it. The risk was too high. I lowered the blade and Howard’s chairman snatched it from my hand. He pushed Henry out of the way and wrapped an arm about my throat.

‘Now then, Kitty,’ Howard said. Her name on his foul lips. I couldn’t bear it. ‘Put down the bottle.’

She hesitated.

He cocked the pistol.

Kitty dashed the bottle to the ground, the glass smashing into a dozen sharp pieces.

Howard began to unbutton his breeches, one-handed. ‘Are you fucking my wife, Hawkins?’ He glanced at me. ‘Well, sir?’

I shook my head.

‘Liar. Why else would you fight for her?’

My heart was burning in my chest. What could I say to him? How could I talk of honour to such a man? He planned to rape Kitty in front of me, in front of his son. I would not let that happen. I must not.

Howard put a hand in Kitty’s hair and pulled sharply. He called out to Henry. ‘D’you see now, boy? This is how you train the wild ones. Let them play. Let them think they’re strong. And then you-’

Kitty flung herself back at him, tumbling them both to the ground. As they fell she turned and drew her knee up, forcing it hard between his legs. Howard screamed and dropped the pistol; it span away beneath the bench as he curled into a tight ball, rolling in agony in the broken glass. It spiked his skin, bloodstains blooming on his white shirt. ‘I’ll kill you,’ he whimpered. ‘I will kill you.’

Kitty stood up, swaying as the boat rode over a wave. Then she raised her heel and stamped down upon on his free hand, grinding it against a thick shard of glass. He screamed, still clutching himself with the other hand. Screamed until there was no breath left.

The chairman ran to help his master. I grabbed my blade, snatched Kitty’s hand and we lurched from the cabin out on to the deck. The Thames rolled black and deep, the moon shining on its surface. The oarsmen had brought us close to Somerset House on the north side of the river, but we were still a good twenty yards from shore.

The cabin door crashed open and Howard raged on to the deck, bent double in agony, his pistol raised in his bloody fist.

There was no time to think. I jumped from the boat, still holding Kitty’s hand.

I heard the crack of the pistol and then the river closed over my head, filthy and ice cold. I flailed to the surface, gasping in shock as the freezing water knifed my skin. A couple of watermen waiting for custom at the steps stood up in their boat and began to shout in alarm. I could hear Kitty floundering a few feet away, her gown dragging her down. I swam over to her, battling the pull of the water. As I grabbed her arm, a wave knocked me back and I slipped under, still holding her close.

I surfaced, spitting out a mouthful of rank river water – and saw the barge looming towards us. Howard stood at the prow, screaming at the oarsmen to row faster, his face twisted with fury. In a few moments, the boat would smash straight into us. I swam desperately towards the watermen, calling out for help as I held on to Kitty’s waist. The water was weighing us both down now, turning our clothes to lead. The watermen rowed out to meet us and we clung to the side in terror as they turned back to shore. When we reached the steps I dragged Kitty out to safety.

‘You there!’ Howard shouted at the watermen from the river. ‘Hold them both for me. I’ll pay you!’

Our rescuers discussed the offer as I pulled myself on to the steps, coughing up the foul-tasting water. I reached into my sodden clothes and threw a shower of coins at their feet. ‘Please,’ I said, crawling up the steps on my hands and knees.

One of the men held up a lantern, squinted at the barge. ‘Is that Charles Howard?’

‘Gah!’ The other one spat into the water. ‘I fucking hate that nob.’ He pulled me to my feet. ‘G’on with you. Run.’

I couldn’t run. I could barely walk. My skull was pounding from the blow to my head, and I was shaking from the cold. But somehow I staggered up the Somerset steps and found Kitty, collapsed at the top and shivering. She looked half dead. The sight of her brought me back to my senses. With my last strength I gathered her up and half-dragged, half-carried her away, heading back towards Covent Garden in a desperate, lurching run. I would have picked her up and slung her over my shoulder, but I had lost my strength that morning, chained to Gonson’s wall. Somehow, I must find a way to press on. I could still hear Howard shouting furiously as he reached the steps. We were not free of him yet.

I stumbled forward, trying not to panic. It was very late now, the streets dark and quiet. We could not go home, that much was certain. Howard was in such a state of fury I was afraid he would break down the door and murder us all.

I looked over my shoulder and spied him in the distance with one of his chairmen. I hurried on to Russell Street.

‘Home,’ Kitty mumbled, tottering against me. She felt bone cold.

‘We can’t go home,’ I whispered.

She slumped, knees sagging, senseless. And somehow, with the last of my strength, I picked her up and slid her over my shoulder. My muscles screamed, but I felt them only dimly through the fear and urgency. I lumbered on to Drury Lane, winning curious looks from the few street whores still out searching for business. I could hear Howard cursing my name as he followed, narrowing the gap between us. I turned left on to St Giles.