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Authors: Lee Jackson
A Metropolitan Murder
M
ETROPOLITAN
M
URDER
by
L
ee
J
ackson
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Version 1.0
Epub ISBN 9781407088983
Published by Arrow Books in 2004
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Copyright © Lee Jackson 2004
Lee Jackson has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988 to be identified as the author of this work
Detail from 1862 map of London reprinted by permission of Motco
This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser
First published in the United Kingdom in 2004 by William Heinemann
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ISBN 0 09 944022 4
Typeset by Palimpsest Book Production Limited, Polmont, Stirlingshire Printed and bound in the United Kingdom by Bookmarque Ltd, Croydon, Surrey
A Metropolitan Murder
Lee Jackson lives in London with his partner Joanne. His first book,
London Dust
, was nominated for the Ellis Peters Historical Dagger Award. He is fascinated by the social history of Victorian London and spends much of his time on the ongoing development of his website
www.victorianlondon.org
Praise for
A Metropolitan Murder
âOnce again Mr Jackson has succeeded in creating the atmosphere of nineteenth-century London'
Sunday Telegraph
â[Lee Jackson] demonstrates quite brilliantly what the genre can do. This is a rare and succulent piece of work. It's a sure thing that he'll go on to do better.'
Literary Review
âThe smoky, foggy, horse-dung laden atmosphere of the London streets steams off the page'
Spectator
â
A Metropolitan Murder
is stuffed full of authentic details of London in the mid-nineteenth century, with special reference to the criminal underworld. The numerous sights, sounds and smells all help to recreate an atmospheric snapshot of Victorian life. Lee Jackson then skillfully blends these minutiae into his racy and pacy plot.'
Historical Novels Review
Praise for
London Dust
âFull of power and substance,
London Dust
is an assured debut . . . a compelling and evocative novel that brings the past, and its dead, to life again'
Guardian
âThis is a novel to read and savour.
London Dust
is a remarkable achievement and, for a first novel, a quite staggering one'
Birmingham Post
âVictorian London is vividly brought to life in this short novel . . . for an atmospheric picture of the period it's hard to beat'
Sunday Telegraph
Also by Lee Jackson
London Dust
ART ONE
HAPTER ONE
T
HE
M
ETROPOLITAN THUNDERS
headlong through the tunnel, spewing smoke and churning up dust. Roaring towards King's Cross, it passes a series of peculiar alcoves lit by solitary yellow lamps, the haunt of subterranean railwaymen who loiter in their manmade hollows. They are waiting for the last train, these slouching shadows with flashing white eyes, waiting until they can begin their nightly work upon the tracks.
âAlmost on time, Bill?' remarks one to another.
âI reckon,' says his comrade, dourly.
The Metropolitan hurtles onwards, station to station, burrowing beneath the New Road, undermining the trade of the humble hackney carriage and omnibus, quite oblivious to the slow and weary tread of pedestrians who tramp the street above. For some of them, the price of a return ticket is simply unattainable; for others, the Underground Railway retains a daemonic aspect, and many swear that they would rather brave the worst of London's winter than descend into a man-made pit. No matter, says the railwayman at work below their feet. He
never pays no heed
to such ignorance from the surface-dwellers, though he readily admits the train goes like the devil, vomiting smoke from the throat of its funnel, spewing
burning ash that rises like bile and sparks against smoke-blackened bricks. At least, he says, the Railway pays good wages, and it keeps you warm and dry, and goes double-quick to where it must go
.
In point of fact, he says, the Metropolitan goes as fast as a man may safely travel without endangering his health. True, he finds that no-one nowadays is much impressed by the facts or figures, and new lines are being planned to here, there and everywhere. But this line will remain the oldest and, therefore, the most famous by far. This is the Metropolitan Line. And this is the last train of the day.
Who takes the last train? Let us take a look at the rear compartment, designated
second class
. Scattered upon cloth-covered benches (a thin, uncompromising layer of cloth, mind you) sit half a dozen private persons, whose means or inclination do not encourage them to pay a sixpence for the well-padded privileges of
first
. In one corner there is a young girl, a pretty but rather shabby creature, with red hair tied up clumsily with a single ribbon; she lies slumped asleep, her head against the wall. In truth she is rather too shabby, her shawl too threadbare and frayed, even for
second
. All the same, some of her fellow passengers quite envy her. At the very least, she need not affect to read the advertisements that have been pasted to the walls of the carriage, whereas, for most railway travellers, there is a positive obligation to cultivate such distractions.
