I? Personally wreck him. What is it? Did I witness some other murder?’
‘Joe …’
‘Jesus, did I see him kill Jem?’ Joe whispered.
‘No.’ She was holding her hands out, conciliatory. ‘Listen; listen. I know this is all infuriating, but first things first. I need you to tell me what happened to Fred Hathaway. What did Missouri do exactly?’
Joe told her, as measuredly as he could. Afterwards, though, he found that he was trembling, and not with anger. It was something else, and he couldn’t tell because he couldn’t feel it; his body wasn’t connected properly to his mind. From nowhere, he saw that imaginary memory of Lily going under the engine again, the flat crunch, and all at once black stars started to crowded in on his vision.
Agatha caught his elbow. ‘You’re all right. This is just shock, it’s normal if you’ve never seen someone die before.’ She steered him into a chair. ‘I’m so sorry this is happening to you,’ she said quietly. ‘But I think you’re tough. You must be, if you were a slave. No?’
Joe shook his head. ‘No, I’m useless. Ask my wife. Agatha, you have to do something about Kite. He can’t just go around murdering children. I don’t care what the reason is.’
‘I know, I know. I’ll go and see him soon, but I’d like to see your heart rate come down first. Can you hear it?’ She was holding his wrist. She smiled like he’d never seen her smile before. It lit her up and gave away her age. He didn’t feel nervous to be this near to her now. ‘You could have been sprinting.’
Joe swallowed hard. His tonsils might as well have been gravel. ‘He’s a frightening man, your brother.’
She nodded, full of apology. ‘I know. I’m sorry. I made him that way. It seemed like a good idea at the time.’
24
Cadiz, 1777
The Missouri had gone down in a storm and taken their mother with it. When her second husband Pedro died five years later, there had been some problem with his navy pension, so they had nothing left to live on.
Agatha was sixteen, and because she was clever in more of a bookish than a common-sense way, she had written to Lord Lawrence. He was her uncle, and until she turned twenty-five, he was in charge of the money she had inherited from her father (her real father, her English one, not Pedro). She had met him once or twice, years ago when she’d been at school in England, and he had always seemed kind.
While she waited for the reply, with every hope that it would be favourable, she taught Missouri English. He didn’t approve, but he was a polite child and he learned anyway, although she did overhear him telling his friends that his sister was making him learn a made-up language that sounded like spitting. She couldn’t help wondering how it was that somebody who was only five could go round having opinions like a real person.
When the letter came from England, it was a hot day, and they were doing the laundry on their doorstep, beneath the waving lines of other people’s washing. Their tenement was in the shadow of the church. The letter arrived exactly on the hour, she remembered that clearly, because the bell had just rung three deafening peals, and like always, she had to dive protectively over the laundry tub as the tower parakeets shot along the alley.
The letter was short.
Lord Lawrence was not bringing them to England.
Lord Lawrence was very sorry, but he didn’t see what a carpenter’s son was to do with him. Agatha was free to come, of course, because she was real family, and he would see that she had a proper education for an English gentlewoman, but she was not to bring Missouri, who would embarrass the Lawrence name. As she would know, she could get her inheritance from her father’s estate when she turned twenty-five, whereupon she was free to do as she pleased, with however many undesirable relatives in tow, but until then, it was his responsibility to safeguard the family’s reputation. He regretted it deeply, but he was sure she would understand.
‘Oh, fuck you,’ she said aloud.
‘Mrs Perez says ladies shouldn’t swear,’ Missouri told her solemnly. He was wringing out the things she had washed, observed by upstairs’s cat. Sometimes it put its paw in the soapy water, plainly trying to see why he liked it so much. It didn’t look impressed.