Page 77 of The Shifting Tide (William Monk 14)

“I’m all right!” Bessie yelled at her. “Stop that stupid cow from runnin’ off! Get ’er! Go ’elp Miss ’Ester, fer Gawd’s sake.”

Flo stopped with a jolt as Hester started down the stairs. Martha was already halfway down and Squeaky Robinson was on the way up, holding on to the railings at both sides.

> “Stop her!” Hester shouted. “Martha! Stop! You can’t leave!”

But Martha was beyond listening to anyone or anything. She charged Squeaky and carried him right off his feet, knocking him backwards down the stairs, his legs in the air. She tried to avoid him and tripped, pitching headlong after him, landing heavily, almost smothering him. He screeched furiously, then started howling with pain.

Hester clung to the banister and went down as fast as she could without risking breaking her legs.

Martha was still clambering to her feet when Hester reached the bottom. Squeaky was clutching his right leg and cursing vigorously.

“You can’t leave, Martha!” Hester said loudly and very clearly. “You know that! You’ll spread the plague all over London! Come back upstairs and let us look after you. Come on!”

Squeaky was still swearing.

“Shut up!” she said to him furiously. “Get up and hold on to Martha!”

Squeaky tried to do as he was told, grabbing a handful of Martha’s nightgown skirts to haul himself up. She lashed out at him and sent him sprawling backwards to land with a thud against the wall. Whether she thought he was molesting her, or she simply was not going to let anyone prevent her escape, was irrelevant.

Squeaky lay where he fell.

Martha blundered away, gathering speed, and Hester ran after her. Martha knew her way and was heading for the kitchen and the back door. Hester called out, desperation making her voice high and shrill. She was not even sure if she was trying to stop Martha or to warn Sutton and call for help. Would she have the nerve to order the dogs set on her? Even with the plague, could she cause the death of someone in such a terrible way?

Martha was in the kitchen. Claudine was sitting half asleep in the chair. She woke up with a start as Martha almost banged into her. She lunged forward, realizing instantly what Martha was trying to do. Her weight carried Martha forward, and they fell together against the kitchen table. Claudine went down first, Martha on top of her.

There was a high-pitched, ear-splitting series of barks. Snoot shot out of the door from the laundry as it opened and Sutton appeared.

“Wot the ’ell is. .” he started.

Martha was the first to her feet. “Let me go!” she shrieked. “I gotta get out of ’ere! Let me. .” And again she plunged towards the back door.

Hester tried to shout, but she could not draw her breath.

“Don’t!” Sutton yelled. “Don’t do it!”

But Martha was beyond reach; in her own mind she must escape or die. The plague was here in this house, and beyond in the night was freedom and life. She ran barefoot out into the yard.

Hester propped herself up onto her hands and knees.

Sutton gritted his teeth and closed his eyes for a second, then he opened them again. “Get ’er!” he shouted.

Martha was floundering across the cobbles of the yard. Out of the shadows from two different directions shot two pit bull terriers. They leapt just as she shrieked, and their weight carried her down hard and heavily. As instinct and training taught them, they went for her throat.

Hester screamed. “No! No! Oh, God no!” She lurched to her feet.

Claudine was standing as well, one hand across her mouth, the other clenched over her stomach where she had fallen against the table corner.

Sutton stumbled to the door and out into the darkness. The men were calling their dogs off. Martha lay motionless, her white nightgown stained with widening blotches of crimson.

Sutton reached her and bent down. He touched her gently, feeling for a pulse. The two dog owners stood by, hands on their animals, reassuring them they had not done wrong, but their voices trembled and Hester knew they were talking as much to themselves as to their animals.

Sutton looked up at them from where he knelt.

“Thanks, Joe, Arnie. That can’t be easy ter do, but yer did right. Please ’eaven yer won’t ’ave ter do it no more, but if yer do, then yer must.” He turned to Hester, who was now outside in the light rain almost beside him. “She in’t dead, but she’s bleedin’ summink ’orrible. Still, I s’pose yer seen that before, yer bein’ in the army an’ all. We’d best get ’er inside an’ see if yer can stitch ’er up, poor little cow. I dunno wot for. This’d be an easier way to go, Gawd ’elp us.”

Claudine was outside now as well. She was gasping for breath, trying to control the hysteria rising in her.

“You murderer!” She choked out the words, staring transfixed with horror at Sutton.

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