The Killing Hand (2 page)

   No sooner than Francis had left there was a knock at the door. Cursing my inability to secure a single moment to myself, I opened it to a woman of slender frame who I barely recognised as my own sister. She had visibly matured in my twelve mont
h absence and I was stunned at the sudden reunion, unsure of what to say to a sister who I had abandoned for so long in a time when I should have been there for her.

   "Brother! James told me you had returned
, but I barely believed him!" she cried as she ran at me, embracing me. "Are you back? Back for good?"

   I did not lie to her. How could I? "I have returned, although I cannot believe
the events that have transpired in my absence. Are you all right?"

   "Yes, yes I am fine. I was not here
when the attack happened. Oh, Brother! I cannot believe such a thing could happen."

   With this, she burst into tears, clasping onto me as if she never wished to let me go. I could not imagine what grief she had been through over the previous months. Having lost our
Father and not having any family to whom she could turn to, the thought of it broke me. For the first time I felt guilty for my time in Europe, for not being there when Lilly needed me most. But this fact was set now and the only choice I had was to start making it up to her.

   "They have not yet been able to find who did it," she sobbed as I led her to the living room, dusting off the old furniture and allowing her to sit. "James has had officers out for months now, but they have found nothing."

   Could I lie to her and tell her it would be alright? That they would find the culprit? Even I knew this was unlikely – so long had passed, the perpetrator could have since gone anywhere since. I could not look her in the eyes and say it, so I merely nodded, acknowledging it. I responded in the only way that felt correct. "I am sorry for not being here for you Lilly."

   Despite her tear dampened face, the smile still shone through. "You
are
here for me, Eric, you came back. I prayed for you whilst you were gone. I prayed for your safety. I had lost so much; I did not wish to lose you too. I am so glad that you returned."

   I gave her a smile
– perhaps the first one since my arrival. Although I had returned to find my Father gone, my family was still here and I had a duty to ensure that it would not fall apart. I made a promise there and then that I would not fail her. That I would not leave her in the dark in her time of need.

   Lilly spent several minutes drying her t
ears before she managed to compose herself to speak once more. "The house... it is so lonely and cold now. It does not feel at all like it used to."

   "I will soon change that. I do not wish to keep this place as a crime scene anymore. The first thing I w
ill do is turn it back into a home."

   "And what will you do then? Where will you go?"

   I had not thought this far ahead. In the shock of such a loss, I had fully forgotten of my plans to set out back to Europe again. Those plans seemed so distant now. "I will stay."

   As much as I wanted that statement to be true, I knew deep inside that I could never crush the longing in me to escape once again, to find myself free. But, sitting there with the last remaining member of my family, I was unsure that I co
uld ever leave her again. No matter how great the urge was.

After a sleepless night I gave myself time to survey my situation. I had returned to London to seek the economic sanctity of my family, but with my father gone I had to admit that my financial situation would soon be dire without any sort of income. It was with that thought that I decided to visit his business, the office of which was located within London.

   Lilly visited again in the morning after my arrival
. She explained that she had not been able to visit the house since the incident due to it giving her the worst case of grief. Now, with my return, she felt as though she could finally return. Seeing our childhood home in such a state must have been unbearable. With my assistance she began to clean the house. Although we were not quite able to return our home to its former glory, at the very least we were able to make it feel less like a scene of violence and more like a home. My sister's presence made it manageable. She would tell me of the news I had missed, of which her marriage was the most unexpected and pleasant news I could have hoped to hear. I still felt a surge of remorse, knowing that I had missed my own sister maturing into a woman.

   "How was y
our journey back from Europe?" she asked once she had finished telling me of her activities.

   "Long. The days simply blurred into one. Those long days at sea did nothing for my mental state; I was fatigued from the constant travel and lack of stimulation
."

   "Being on a boat for so long could never do a man good." Lilly opened the cupboard beneath the stairs, dusting away the cobwebs and dust before letting out a short gasp and reached out for something. "Oh look! Eric, it is Fathers' old chest!"

   I walked up beside her, glancing into the dark cupboard to see a great oak chest. It was a family heirloom, passed down from generation to generation. A great thing it was, with a thick and heavy lid of oak. As a child I used to believe it was full of treasure, my mind no doubt corrupted by the stories of the Penny Dreadfuls of the time. Whenever I used to ask my Father if there were any treasures in it, he would merely respond, "Do not be so foolish, for such things do not exist."

   Lilly pulled the lid open,
revealing a cache of letters and diaries. My Father was always one for keeping his papers in order, whether they were personal reminders or logs of his finances. Lilly brushed off the topmost book and opened it. A smile spread across her face, but appeared to slowly fade as she held it up.

   The absence of our Father was painful enough to deal with without the reminder that he had once lived there, slept there and worked there without ever givin
g the passing semblance that the days may have been his last. I lifted the diary from her hands and placed it back in the chest, closing the lid. "I do not think we are ready for such things just yet."

   Lilly gave a melancholy nod and stood to turn out o
f the cupboard, but as she did so she let out another gasp and reached out for something else. It was an old business coat, which she brushed off and draped over my shoulders. "Here, it was Fathers. Seen as you are stepping into his shoes I think it is only right."

   The coat was too large for me, but Lilly seemed pleased with it so I kept it on. "I am not so sure that I can fill
Father's shoes at all Lilly, you know how I am with such business."

   The twinkle in her eye shone brighter than the sun seeing
me in that coat, as if the spirit of our Father was continued on by myself. "Try Eric, if not for him, then for me? You need a way to sustain yourself in London. This is all you have right now. Anyway - you would do best to set off now. Do you remember where it is?"

   "It is not something so easily forgotten."

   She flashed me a charming smile and opened the front door for me. I wished her a good day and set out into the busy streets.

   Stepping out I immediately realised how alien the whole place had b
ecome to me. So strict and so cold compared to the casual lifestyle that I had grown accustomed to over the past year of my life. I had barely been back a week and I already missed the freedom of travelling. Returning to London felt more like a sentence, a formality that I had to carry out, but not one that was meant to last. My sentence, it seemed, had been extended and I was forced stay against my own will. The only hope I had was that by biding my time and gaining enough money I may be able to escape London. Hopefully forever, as I felt there was little there for me.

   Nobles and businessmen walked and rode through the streets to their place of work as I began down the street. S
ome of them smiled at me. Others nodded, perhaps presuming me as of the same cloth as them. Others ignored me as they shuffled to their work, never searching for anything more, content and ignorant to what they could have if they only tried.

   The feeling
of alienation only grew as I made my way further into the commercialised high street. A mass of human beings moving, existing, suffering together, without order nor goal they moved in undisciplined unison, driving headlong through the streets; barely acknowledging one another. I hastened to my destination, hoping to escape the insufferable banality of it all. The features of the city were without detail – cold, uncaring stone walls stretching up the sides of buildings, where windowed offices stretched further into the sky than any man should have ever dared to build. The angled rooftops and prickly chimneys dotted the city horizon, the jagged landscape under the smog laden sky like a wasteland of human construction.

 
  There was some consolable relief that the great terraced building of my Father’s company imbued within me when I saw it nestled between the other establishments of the high street. I had not warmed to the business, but a gentle wave of familiarity overcame me as I slowly approached. It was just as I remembered it and the implication of sanctity drew me in closer. I felt the calming presence of one on whom I could depend. The building, at least, had remained the same over the course of a year.

 
  I peered through the windows expecting to see my Father working until I was reminded of the state of things. Instead of this memory repeating I could see a content Gilbert scribbling away with the same quill once used by my Father. He was a short, round man who bore no similarity to the greatness of my own Father.

 
  The bell above the door tinkled brightly as I walked in. Without looking up Gilbert simply called out, "What is it you want?"

 
  I had no response to the question, so did not offer him one. I made my way over to my Father's desk, now occupied by the short, stubby, bespectacled man who envisioned himself to be great enough to sit at it. As I drew nearer he peered up with neither surprise nor joy.

 
  "I could not shake the feeling you had not died out there," he said plainly, almost as if he were disappointed.

 
  "That did not prevent you from jumping in my grave."

 
  "Your grave, child? If you are referring to this company I think you will find that it was always a joint partnership between your Father than I. You never came into the deal. In your absence I had to preserve my investments and continue as I had. The loss of your Father was a terrible shame to me, but your behaviour was not going to impact my business and goals."

 
  "I think you will find that it only stayed in your name whilst I was gone. One half of this company belongs to me." I made this bold statement purely out of bitterness. I only assumed this to be the case, having no intimate knowledge of these situations. My Father must have intended to leave his estate and company to me, as there was no reason for him to have left the entire company to Gilbert. I continued, "It would appear that my return has a negative impact on your managerial role."

 
  Apparently I struck a nerve, for Gilbert rose from his seat with athleticism unbeknownst to me, pointing at the walls about him and proclaiming, more to the world than to himself, "I made this company!"

 
  "My Father made it."

 
  "-And I have sat here, listening to your Father talk for years. Well, it is my turn to talk now and you are going to listen. I was the partner of your Fathers. You contributed
nothing
. Do you honestly believe you can replace him? I am better off working alone. You were never an asset to this company." Gilbert snorted as he pointed at the books of contracts on his desk as if they meant anything at all to anyone other than him. "You descend from on high after a year and just expect to pick this up, for nothing? We broke our backs for this."

   "If only it broke you, Gilbert. All you have done is stood on the shoulders
of my Father’s greatness."

   "And where were you when
he needed you? Wasting your time out in the depths of some barren country, drunk no doubt! How does it feel knowing that he died thinking you had abandoned him? That poor man spent his final days pouring all his money into finding you. And to what purpose? I daresay a miserable wretch such as yourself was ill worth the effort. More like he was blessed to have lost you!"

 
  A surge of hate ran through my body, every part of me tingling with the urge to burst with anger and lash out at that rounded smug face of his. A year apart had done little to reconcile our stormy relationship. I let the anger wash over me and I regained my composure. Arguing would do little for either of us. "I did not come here to steal your job."

 
  "I thank you for the blessing," he retorted with a sarcastic snarl. "I do not need your permission – I already own half of this company. Although I do not agree with your inheritance of such a great work, that is the agreement your Father had and I must adhere to it."

   At the thought of our joint ownership I became inconsolable that my
Father would have ever willingly shared his mantle with such a lesser man. A lesser man who now sat here gloating about his empire and the fact that I would have to share what was rightfully mine with a man such as himself. I felt bereft of compassion.

 
  Gilbert slid back into his chair, surveying me with cold eyes. "You have not changed at all, Eric. You do know why he sent you out there in the first place, to Europe, do you not? The reason was your idleness. The son that his wife died for turned out to be a lazy, unambitious cad."

   "Do not speak of my
Mother."

   But Gilbert continued. "He would rather have been caug
ht dead than to admit that you were a bad son. So you were sent out in hope that you would learn a decent work ethic and sense of self-worth. And what did you do? You ran away. He spent his time trying to figure out if you just wandered into the unknown and gotten yourself killed. I knew the truth, but he would not accept it from me. His final months were spent in vain looking for someone who wished not to be found."

 
  I became dazed by the realisation that within the few days previous everything I had held close to me was glamour. A means to secure my preferred lifestyle had slipped from my hands.

   Slamming his fist into the books before him he bellowed out in rage. "When you disappeared
I
was all he had to keep him grounded.
I
was the one who helped him in his final months. No, I did not agree with him spending so much time to salvage a whelp such as yourself, but your Father asked and I obeyed. I will leave the decision to return to this company in your hands. If you wish to join me in preserving this company you may. If, however you wish to remain the degenerate you have apparently always strived to become, you may feel free do so. But know this; I will not pamper you as your Father did."

   I fou
nd myself unable to continue listening to his vitriolic berating. A defeated snarl resonated from the back of my throat and I left the room, heading back out into the open street and charging through hordes of businessmen as I headed for the sanctity of my own home.

   Furious thoughts raged in my mind as I stormed from the building that my
Father had made. How dare such a vile man as Gilbert sit on my Father's throne and proclaim it as his own? How dare he consider himself worthy to stand in his shoes? If my Father could see this, would he have removed him as his business partner in some way? Could he? Perhaps it was too late. Perhaps this is something Gilbert had been planning all along, waiting for my Father's demise so that he could gain everything from him. His entire legacy. Snatching it from the rightful place of my family. I found myself consumed in such angry thoughts that I barely heard my name being called from the crowd.

   "Eric? Eric Godwin? It is you, is it not?"

   A hand clasped upon my shoulder and, in such an irritable mood, I swung around ready to confront whoever was wasting my time. In doing so I found myself face to face with Lucius, an old acquaintance with whom I had attended university with a little over a year previous. I must have had a horrid expression as I turned, for he looked at me queerly as if he had got the wrong person. I reassured myself that the man before me bore me no ill and all the anger seeped from me, albeit slowly.

   Although Lucius was not a man I would refer to a
s a friend, he was a decent enough sort in passing and anything to draw my mind away from the events that had just transpired was a welcome occurrence in my mind. I entertained him. "Lucius? My God man, is that really you?"