Free Antidote To Murder by Felicity Young Page A

hemless rag that might once have been a tea towel, and placed it over her shoulder to protect her fine cotton blouse. She lifted the listless baby from the drawer and settled herself on the only kitchen chair. “Has she been feeding?”
    “Me milk’s just about gorn, miss. I’ve been trying ’er with this.” Mrs. Kent nodded towards a small milk jug sitting on the table next to the water bucket. “But she ain’t interested.”
    Dody sniffed at the milk, amazed to find it still fresh. Taking a clean rag from the table, she twisted it into a wick and dipped it into the jug. With her little finger she prised open the baby’s mouth and gently inserted the wick.
    “Have you given her anything else?” Dody asked as she tickled the baby’s throat, enticing her to swallow. “Anything from the chemist or apothecary?”
    “We can’t afford no fancy medicines,” Mrs. Kent said, popping the cork from the ginger beer and taking a long swallow.
    “I ask because lead was found in the stomach of your child Billy, probably from the tablets the police found here hidden in a matchbox.”
    Dody indicated an unopened blue envelope on the kitchen table. “I see you have received your summons—I’d open it soon if I were you; it will tell you where and when you need to appear in court. But listen carefully to me, Mrs. Kent. If you tell me now who gave or sold you the lead tablets, the enquiry will be a lot easier for you. Perhaps you purchased the tablets for yourself to prevent pregnancy and the child found and swallowed them. If that can be proved, Billy’s death will be ruled as misadventure.”
    Mrs. Kent put the bottle down. “I don’t know nuffink about lead pills,” she mumbled, her eyes fixed on the baby.
    “If you and your husband are found guilty of infanticide, you will go to prison. Or worse.”
    The rag-wick moved, the baby swallowed, and Dody felt her spirits rise. This child might at least have a chance at life. She handed the rag back to Mrs. Kent for a redipping. The woman’s hands shook so she could barely get the wick into the milk. “Can’t you tell me who gave you the tablets, Mrs. Kent?” Dody asked. “It really will be better for you.”
    “Who’ll look after the little ones if we’re both put away?” Mrs. Kent looked down at the baby, sucking now with more strength. A smile ghosted her reddened face. This was not the face of a bad woman, Dody realised, just an uneducated, deprived woman, one who might well have started life off in a bureau drawer herself.
    “There’s a bloke down the pub,” Mrs. Kent began. “’E’s a—” A hurled bottle cut the words from her mouth, crashing to the floor next to the table in an explosion of glass. Dody sprang to her feet and clutched the child tightly to her chest. The infant started up a feeble wail. “Mr. Kent, how dare you?” she cried, her heart galloping as she shielded the baby’s head with her hand.
    “And ’ow dare you come into my ’ouse and accuse me missus an’ me of doin’ our young’un in!”
    “I saw the lead tablets in Billy’s stomach myself,” Dody said, willing the tremble from her voice.
    “Well, we didn’t put ’em there. The lad was always in the street, there’s all types down there, anyone could’ve given ’im them as sweets.”
    “Then give the court the chance to prove it.”
    “Yeah, the court, maybe—but we don’t need you messing about in our business, accusin’ an’ all. ’Er an’ me didn’t kill our kid and we don’t ’ave the foggiest ’oo did. Now get out of ’ere while you still can. There’s plenty other bottles under this bed, or do ya want the shit can?” He reached under the bed and slid out a brimming metal bucket. Dody backed towards the door, clutching the baby to her.
    “I’m taking the baby to the London Hospital,” she said to Mrs. Kent. “I’ll give the staff there your details. Go and visit her tomorrow.”
    * * *
    “ L ady Harriet is not at home, Miss McCleland,