, but his heart was in the right place. Widow Roberts – you found her proud, Mr Hawkins? Aloof? But then she
had suffered a great loss. And the stain of the poor captain’s suicide… one had to admire her for holding her head high. Joseph Cross was unruly and coarse, yes – but that was the drink. If he were ever sober he might be a different man altogether; who could say? And of course Gilbert Hand was as slippery as an eel but what energy! what industry! As for Acton, well, there was no denying the man was a bully, and could be vicious, yes – truly vicious. A short pause. A large swig of beer. But… another pause. Well, they say Bambridge up at the Fleet gaol is worse still.
‘You’re a generous man, Trim,’ I said, helping myself to a sugar cake. ‘And what of Mary Acton? Is she… cheerful company?’
‘She’s…’ Trim thought for a moment. ‘Spirited.’
I licked the sugar from my fingers. ‘Indeed.’
‘Her father was a prisoner here some years back. On the Common Side.’
‘Yes, Mr Fleet told me.’
Trim’s shoulders stiffened. He pushed away his plate. ‘Mr Fleet… Yes.’
I waited, the silence hanging in the air. When Trim didn’t elaborate I leaned forward. ‘I’ve heard a great deal of my cell mate.’ None of it good. ‘What sort of a man is he, Trim? Can I trust him?’
Trim picked up his knife and cleared his throat. ‘Mr Fleet is a fine gentleman,’ he said loudly, while jabbing his knife towards the floor in a pointed fashion. ‘Most agreeable.’ And then, under his breath, ‘With excellent hearing.’
Of course. I had forgotten Trim’s room was directly above my own. And the floorboards were rotten.
Supper over, we scraped our chairs back from the table. Trim patted his stomach with a contented air. ‘Not bad for Mrs Mack,’ he conceded, and burped behind his hand. ‘Good preparation for a night’s drinking.’
‘Will my six shillings cover the whole ward?’ There were twenty men at least in my building, and the garnish was meant to buy a drink for every one of them.
‘It will add nicely to the pot,’ he smiled.
‘And if I refuse to pay?’
Trim rose and stretched. ‘Then I’m afraid we let the black dog walk.’
‘The black dog…?’
‘Old gaol tradition. Your ward mates grab hold of you, pin you to the ground, tear all your clothes off and, well…’ He grinned. ‘Then you pay your garnish.’
‘Ah.’
‘Funniest one I ever saw was your new chum, Mr Fleet,’ he added.
‘He refused to pay?’
Trim shook his head. ‘Refused to call it garnish. Stood in the middle of the Tap Room, stripped himself naked then strode up to the bar and ordered two guineas’ worth of drinks for the whole room.’ He paused. ‘I must say, for a man of his years, he’s kept himself in good order.’
