Mayhem by Sarah Pinborough

were still alive.’
    Sadness flickered in his eyes, but he covered it with a small smile. I remembered him now, from that same afternoon on the steps after the Rainham inquest. He had been thinner and paler, then, and no wonder.
    ‘Unfortunately,’ I said, ‘it is perhaps in all our natures that we take the living for granted until they are no longer with us.’
    ‘Not so easy for you and Father to do, I imagine,’ Juliana said.
    ‘True. Although your father’s natural good cheer does rather keep us both in fine spirits, even at times like these.’
    ‘Well, I shall certainly not be taking James for granted,’ she declared. ‘I’m going to help with the company bookkeeping and whatever else he needs me to do. I’m sure I’m far better with figures than some of the men he has working for him.’
    ‘Sometimes, my dear,’ Charles said, his pride obvious, ‘I do wonder whether you should have been born a boy.’
    ‘I have to say,’ Harrington replied, ‘that I for one am very glad she was not.’
    We all laughed at that, and watching the couple I envied them their youth and excitement for life and each other. In the face of so much energy, it was hard not to feel old and tired, both of which I was. In fact, listening to the chatter around the table, I felt envious of the warmth with which Charles was surrounded. I doubted there were many sleepless nights in this house.
    Despite my eagerness to get to the opium dens and find the stranger in the black coat, as the main course arrived, a very fine cut of beef, I realised how much I had been neglecting my appetite of late, surviving as I was on plates of cheese, bread and cold meats. My stomach growled loudly, twice, which caused further laughter, given the informal nature of our dining, and I finished everything on my plate with an enthusiasm that made Mary ply me with more.
    I had hoped to get away quite soon after coffee, but Charles insisted I join him in his study for some brandy. We left the ladies to say their goodnights to young Harrington and closed the door behind us. Charles wasted no time in pouring two large measures and we sat on either side of the small fire gazing quietly into the flames for a few minutes. Just as the silence was reaching a palpably awkward stage, Charles shifted in his chair and leaned forward.
    ‘London is not herself this year, wouldn’t you say, Thomas?’ He didn’t look at me, his eyes still on the grate. His tone was quiet.
    I watched as he took a long swallow of his drink before I took a sip of my own. ‘I think that could be considered a fair assumption,’ I said.
    ‘Sometimes I look at Juliana and my heart is gripped with fear for her.’ The leather creaked as he leaned forward in his seat to re-fill his glass from the decanter. ‘There is so much wickedness at work in the city I feel as if I can almost touch it. We’re surrounded by it.’
    ‘Perhaps we are, my friend, but I think your Juliana is safe.’ Was this the cause of his sudden melancholy? I had envied my friend his family, but perhaps I had not considered the worries that came with that. But the women in Charles’ life were surely safe from the human monsters currently hunting on London’s streets.
    ‘She’s not …’ I struggled to find the appropriate words, ‘she’s not in a position to cause alarm. She has her young man and her family to make sure she’s not in any place of danger.’ The idea of Juliana wandering the streets of Whitechapel was one that I could not entertain. She moved in different circles; she had a different sort of life. ‘She’s also a bright girl,’ I added. ‘She has never been childish in her thinking. Life might throw the unexpected at us at any time, this is true, but as for the London we have seen so much of this year? It won’t touch her. You can be sure of that, my friend.’
    He smiled slightly, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and as he turned to me I realised that Charles was quite drunk.I had been so