The Silent Cry Page 0,79

angry to walk slowly to keep pace with her, and too cold, but he did not know where he was, or where he was going. He was forced against his will to wait for her.

The next house they went to was a trifle warmer. They came out of the now freezing fog into a room where a pot-bellied stove smelled of stale soot, but gave off quite a comforting heat. Maggie Arkwright was plump and comfortable, black-haired, ruddy-skinned. It was easy to understand that she might do very well at her part-time profession.

There was a good humour about her, even a look of health which was attractive. Glancing around at the room with two soft chairs, a table with all four of its original legs, a stool, and a wooden chest with three folded blankets, Monk wondered if they were bought with the proceeds of her trade.

Then he remembered that Vida had said her husband was a petty thief, and realised that may be the source of their relative prosperity. The man came in a moment after them. His face was genial, eyes lost in wrinkles of general goodwill, but his head was close shaved in what Monk knew was a 'terrier crop', a prison haircut. He had probably been out no more than a week or ten days. Presumably she kept the household going when he was accepting Her Majesty's hospitality in Millwall, or the Coldbath Fields.

There was a burst of laughter from the next room, an old woman's high cackle, and the giggling of children. It was a sound of hilarity, unguarded and carefree.

"Wot yer want?" Maggie asked civilly, but with eyes wary on Monk's face. Vida she knew, but he had an air of authority about him she did not trust.

Vida explained, and bit by bit Monk drew from Maggie the story of the attack upon her. It was one of the earliest, and seemed to be far less vicious than those more recently. The account was colourful, and he thought very possibly embellished a trifle for his benefit. It was of no practical value, except that it told him of yet another victim, one Vida had not known of. She told him where to find her, but tomorrow, not today. Today she would be drunk, and no use to him at all. She laughed as she said it, a sound rich with mocking pleasure, but little unkindness.

When Monk found the woman, she was at her stall selling all kinds of household goods, pots, dishes, pails, the occasional picture or ornament, candlesticks, here and there a jug or ewer. Some of them were of moderate value. She was not young, maybe in her late thirties or early forties, it was hard to tell. Her bones were good, as if she had been handsome in her youth, but her skin was clouded by too much gin, too little clean air or water, and a lifetime's ingrained grime.

She looked at Monk as a prospective customer, mildly interested, never giving up hope. To lose interest was to lose money, and to lose money was death.

"Are you Sarah Blaine?" he asked, although she fitted Maggie's description, and she was in the right place. It was rarely a person allowed their place to be taken, even for a day. "Oo wants ter know?" she said carefully. Then her eyes widened and filled with unmistakable loathing, a deep and bitter remembrance. She drew in her breath and let it out in a hiss between her teeth. "Geez! "Oped I'd never see yer again, yer bastard! Thought yer was dead! "Eard yer was, in fifty-six. Went out an' shouted the 'ole o' the "Grinnin' Rat" tera free drink on it. Danced an' sang songs, we did. Danced on yer grave, Monk, only yer wasn't in it! Wot 'appened? Devil din't want yer? Too much, even fer 'is belly, was yer?"

Monk was stunned. She knew him. It was impossible to deny. And why not? He had not changed. He still had the same lean body, the same hard, steady eyes, the high, smooth bones in his face, the same beautiful precise voice.

He had no idea who she was, or what their relationship had been, except what was obvious, which was that she hated him, more than simply because he was police, but from some individual or personal cause.

"I was injured," he replied with the literal truth. "Not killed."

"Yeah? Wot a shame," she said laconically. "Never mind, better luck next time!" The brilliance of her eyes