The Last Confession of Thomas Hawkins Read Online Free Page B

open-mouthed. Was this the first time his son had defied him? And in such a public fashion, too. He drew back his arm and gave the boy a vicious blow across the back of his head. ‘Impudent puppy! Tell them! ’
    I winced, but the blow only made Stephen more defiant. ‘There was no thief,’ he declared. He gave his father a sly, sidelong glance. ‘Are you sure I should tell them what I saw, Father? What I truly saw last night?’
    I was sure Burden would beat Stephen again for his insolence, but he seemed frozen, of a sudden.
    ‘Mr Burden,’ Gonson prompted, ‘have you wasted my time, sir?’
    Burden found his voice at last. ‘I . . . Forgive me, sir. A misunderstanding.’
    ‘Well,’ I said cheerfully. ‘Thank you, gentlemen, for your visit. If you wish to purchase a book, I could recommend—’
    ‘Damn you!’ Burden snarled. ‘Damn your foul books.’ He reached for the nearest shelf and dashed the contents to the floor, tearing the pages from one and crumpling them with his fist.
    Gonson grabbed his arm and muttered in his ear. Burden’s shoulders slumped. He threw the pages to the ground and stormed out, dragging his son with him.
    Kitty dropped to the floor, gathering books and ripped pages into her apron.
    Gonson picked up his cane. ‘You’re amused by this, sir?’
    ‘No, indeed.’
    ‘It is a game to you – to set a son against his father. To provoke a decent citizen to violence. A neighbour.’ He prodded at a book, broken-spined on the floor. ‘I’m told you are an educated man, sir. A student of Divinity. Peddling filth. Corrupting the ignorant. Do you have no sense of shame? No sense of Christian duty? Those disgusting books and pamphlets you sell – fie, fie, sir – do not deny it! The men who pass through my court – the men I send to the gallows – these are your customers, Hawkins. You help set them upon that path . Can you not see the harm and suffering you cause? Do you not want your city to be free from crime? To end the squalor and the misery ?’
    He halted, the zealous fire dying in his eyes. He could see I was unmoved. I was a parson’s son – the first skill I’d learned was how to ignore sermons. I was unsermonisable. He scowled, black brows knotted tight. ‘Perhaps you are worse than I dared imagine,’ he mused. ‘Perhaps it is not this shop that pollutes the neighbourhood. Perhaps it is you , Mr Hawkins. Perhaps you lie at the heart of all this corruption and vice. A black spider in a filthy web.’
    I laughed, incredulous. Was I to be blamed for all the vice in London? I was almost flattered – until I caught the quiet fury in his expression.‘Mr Gonson . . .’
    ‘I’ve heard dark stories about you, sir. Dark and terrible. I’ve heard rumours that you killed a man, down in the Borough.’
    Behind him, Kitty faltered for a moment, reaching for a book.
    ‘I paid them no heed,’ Gonson continued softly, almost to himself. ‘I fear I was wrong. I shall look into the matter.’ He fixed his hat and left.
    Kitty sank to the nearest chair and lifted her eyes to mine. She looked terrified. We both knew the rumours were false. But if Gonson investigated the events of last autumn . . . If he talked to the wrong people down in the Marshalsea gaol . . . He just might discover the truth. ‘Oh, Tom . . .’ she breathed, and began to shake.
    ‘He has no proof, Kitty. No witnesses.’
    ‘No. But he will dig and dig until he finds something .’ She set her shoulders, resolute. ‘I won’t let him take you from me, Tom. I’d rather die.’
     

Chapter Three
     
    Sam was not on an errand. Kitty had lied to spare him Gonson’s interrogation. But where was the boy? He was not in his room at the top of the house, nor in the narrow storeroom where he sometimes lurked, tucking himself into impossibly cramped spaces to read uninterrupted. I wouldn’t mind, but the books weren’t even contraband. There was something disturbing about a boy his age choosing