The Cockney Sparrow (28 page)

A red mist danced in front of Clemency’s eyes. She balled her hand into a fist and smacked it into Hardiman’s face. She felt the soft squidge of warm flesh beneath her knuckles and heard the crack of breaking bone. She stared down at her bruised hand, flexing her fingers – the pain was worth it. Hardiman had had that coming to him
for a very long time. She watched him slide to the ground, covering his bleeding nose with his hands.

‘Remind me not to get into a fight with you, Miss Skinner.’ Jared chuckled as he hoisted her unceremoniously into the waiting cab. ‘We’d best get away from here before someone calls a constable. Finsbury Circus, cabby.’ He climbed in last, and everyone squashed together as the cab lurched forward, overloaded and swaying from side to side.

‘Me chair,’ Jack said, peering anxiously out of the window. ‘We’ve left it behind, and I can’t get about without it.’

‘No matter. We’ll get you another one.’ Jared leaned back against the squabs, and his tone gentled. ‘What is it that affects your legs, Jack?’

Clemency caught her breath. She opened her mouth to tell Jared to mind his own business, but Jack astonished her by answering for himself. What was more astounding, he did not even seem to resent the direct question. ‘I weren’t always like this. I could walk when I was a nipper, but then I got sick with a fever. It left me as you see – a cripple.’

‘Leave him alone, mister,’ Fancy cried, clutching Jack’s hand. ‘There ain’t no need to rub it in. He can’t walk and there’s an end to it.’

‘It’s all right,’ Jack said, keeping his gaze fixed on Jared’s face. ‘Let him have his say.’

‘In my profession, I meet quite a few physicians and surgeons. I might be able to get you some proper medical attention.’

Jack frowned. ‘I don’t want no favours from you, Stone.’

Fancy nudged him in the ribs. ‘Hear him out, love.’

‘I’m with Jack,’ Clemency said, staring suspiciously at Jared. She couldn’t make him out at all. One moment he was making threats, and the next minute he was acting like their best friend. ‘Why would you put yourself out for us?’

‘I’m acquainted with the senior medical officer at the City Orthopaedic Hospital in Hatton Garden. Chance is a good fellow and I think he might be able to do something for Jack.’ A hint of a smile flickered across his face as he countered her hostile glance. ‘I do occasionally do things out of the goodness of my heart.’

She knew he was teasing her, and she turned her head to stare out of the window. They had escaped from Hardiman for the time being, although she did not think he would give up so easily, but they were now dependent on a man about whom she knew almost nothing. What lay ahead for them was unclear – a puzzle yet to be resolved. The hackney carriage sped on, leaving the bright lights of the Strand behind them. They passed Temple Bar, and entered the bustling activity of Fleet Street where the morning
editions of the newspapers were being run off the presses. It had begun to rain, a soft, steady drizzle that turned into a fine mist in the flickering beams of the gaslights. Everyone had fallen silent, lost in their own thoughts in the swaying carriage; hypnotised by the drumming of the horse’s hooves and the rhythmic motion of the wheels skimming over cobblestones. The dome of St Paul’s Cathedral stood out like a black silhouette against the indigo sky, and the familiar streets of Cheapside gave way to the sleeping financial heart of the City. Clemency closed her eyes, wondering what lay ahead.

The cab drew to a halt and, half asleep, they tumbled out onto the pavement. The rain had ceased and Clemency could smell the scent of damp earth and spring flowers. Augustus and Ronnie stood outside the mansion, staring upwards, their faces a study in amazement. Fancy tugged at Ronnie’s sleeve. ‘Jack,’ she reminded him. ‘He’s still in the cab.’

Ronnie hastened to lift him out as Jared paid the cabby. Clemency squeezed Jack’s hand. ‘This is a new beginning for us, Jack.’

He gave her a searching look. ‘Yes, Clemmie. But at what price?’

Jared strode up the front steps and unlocked the door. ‘Come inside. Mrs Spriggs will show you your rooms.’ He disappeared into the house.

After a moment’s hesitation, Clemency led the
way up the steps into their new home. The others followed her slowly, seemingly stunned by the grandeur of their surroundings. Ronnie carried Jack into the hall and they huddled together in a small group, staring around them in silence. Jared was nowhere to be seen and Clemency wondered if he was going to leave them stranded here all night, but then she heard footsteps and Nancy came bustling towards them. ‘Well,’ she said, staring at each of them in turn. ‘You’re a sorry-looking lot, I must say. Come down to the kitchen and have something to eat. Then we’ll sort out sleeping arrangements. I hope you don’t expect luxury, because I can assure you, you won’t get none of that here.’ She headed off without waiting to see if anyone was following her.

‘Come on,’ Clemency said, making an effort to sound positive. ‘It can’t be worse than sleeping in the old church.’

Nancy led them through a maze of long passages to the baize door, which opened onto a flight of steps leading down to the basement kitchen. ‘He told me you was coming, so I laid out a cold supper. But don’t think I’m going to wait on you lot hand and foot. Tomorrow you’ll start work and earn your keep.’ Nancy paced up and down, eyeing them critically as they took their places at the table. ‘You all look half starved. I never seen such a raggedy-arsed
collection of people in all me life. I was hoping he’d taken on proper servants to help me, but none of you look up to much.’

‘Madam.’ Augustus clicked his heels together with a slight inclination of his head. ‘I am Augustus Throop, musical director and manager of this young lady, Miss Skinner, who has achieved notable success on the stage of the Strand Theatre. We may have fallen on hard times, but we are professional entertainers, honest folk who are prepared to earn their keep. You won’t find us lacking in honesty, morals or willingness to work.’ He sat down, mopping his brow with his hanky.

‘Fine words butter no parsnips,’ Nancy said, sniffing. ‘But I daresay we’ll all get along, providing you do what I tells you. I’m used to handling all sorts, as Miss Clemency saw when she visited my previous place in Hog Yard. Now get on with your meal because I want to get to me bed.’

Clemency picked up her knife and fork, gazing at the spread laid out on the table. Ronnie had already helped himself to a large slice of pork pie and was heaping pickled onions on his plate. Fancy was carving slices off a baked ham with a glistening sugar crust studded with cloves. Augustus reached for an earthenware pitcher. He gave an exclamation of pleasure as he poured the deep red liquid into his glass. ‘The water has
turned into wine. Heavens above, it’s a miracle.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ Nancy said, easing her ample frame into a chair by the range. ‘It’s no bleeding miracle. Mr Stone said you was to be treated like gentry with a slap up meal, for tonight at least. Tomorrow you’ll be eating tripe and onions or faggots and peas like the rest of us.’

Clemency paused with a slice of ham halfway to her lips. ‘How many servants are there, Mrs Spriggs?’

Nancy chuckled. ‘There’s you lot and me, and a couple of chambermaids – silly little mares what come from the workhouse, but they work for next to nothing and don’t eat much. It ain’t what you’d call a large staff.’ She put her hand in her pocket and pulled out a silver snuffbox, opening it with a delicate flick of her pork-sausage finger. Taking a pinch, she inhaled deeply through one nostril, and then the other.

Chomping on a mouthful of pork pie, Augustus caught Clemency’s eye and nodded his head in Nancy’s direction. ‘I’ll wager that’s made of silver, not tin. It’s the genuine article, if you ask me,’ he whispered.

Clemency turned her head just in time to see Nancy put the snuffbox back in her pocket. She nodded her head, saying nothing. It was none of her business how a mere housekeeper could come by such an expensive article. Jared had obviously told her the truth when he had spoken
about relieving rich people of their trinkets. Perhaps he had given the snuffbox to Nancy in lieu of her wages. She would worry about that tomorrow, but for now she had her eye on the chocolate cake that she had tasted earlier. Its rich darkness was calling to her and making her mouth water. Maybe going back to a life of crime was worth it after all.

When everyone had eaten and drunk as much as they could, the atmosphere lightened and Clemency sensed a spirit of optimism amongst them that was not entirely due to the wine. No one said much, they all seemed to be too in awe of Nancy, or maybe they were simply tired. Clemency was half asleep, lulled into a comfortable state by good food and a couple of glasses of wine. She was having difficulty in keeping her eyes open, and she could see that Jack was already nodding off.

Nancy heaved herself out of the chair. ‘You can clear this lot up in the morning. You’ll rise at six and get the fire going in the range. I don’t care which one of you does it, that’s up to you. Right now it’s bedtime, so follow me and pick up a candle each on the way. You with the moustache, you’d best get one for the lame boy.’ She lumbered across the room, stopping to pick up a candle from the dresser and lighting it with a vesta.

‘Clemmie, wait.’ Jack caught her by the hand as she was about to walk past him.

‘Yes, Jack?’

‘What is it he wants you to do?’ His fingers dug into her flesh, making her wince. ‘Tell me, Clemmie. Why is he taking us in? What’s in it for Stone?’

She couldn’t bear to admit that Jared wanted her to return to a life of crime. Jack had suffered enough, in the knowledge that he was unable to protect and provide for her and Ma. She managed a smile. ‘He wants me to be a companion to Miss Isobel. He’s sorry that he caused us to be thrown out of our lodgings in Flower and Dean Street, and he said he didn’t know that Hardiman was a thoroughly bad lot.’

Jack frowned. ‘That might explain why he took you on. But why would he bother with all of us?’

‘I said I wouldn’t come without you. And he expects everyone to do their bit and earn their keep. It ain’t a free bus ride, Jack.’

Jack released her hand, but he did not look convinced. ‘I’d sooner live in the gutter than have you do anything against your will.’

‘You mustn’t worry, dear. We’ll soon get back on our feet and then we’ll find work in another theatre. You’ve got time to practise your flute. One day you’ll be a fine musician, earning lots of money, and keeping us all in style.’ She leaned over and kissed his cheek. ‘Night night, Jack.’

‘Are you coming, miss? Or do you want to sleep in the kitchen?’ Nancy called across the
room. ‘Hurry up. I want to get to me own bed.’

Ronnie had collected his candle and he returned to give Jack a piggyback to the sleeping quarters. They trooped after Nancy as she stomped off along a narrow passageway. She tapped on the closed doors as she marched past them. ‘In there’s the boot room. That’s the flower room, the butler’s pantry, the silver store, the linen cupboard, the broom cupboard and the dry goods store. Most of them are empty, so don’t get no ideas about pilfering.’ She opened a door at the far end of the passage. ‘This is the old servants’ hall. You fellows can sleep in here. It’ll be easier for the crippled boy.’ She gave her candle to Clemency to hold while she lit the gas mantle.

The room was large, cold, and felt damp. It smelled of mildew, and fungus grew on the walls, but Clemency could see that it was reasonably clean, and there were three truckle beds laid out with fresh linen, pillows and blankets. It was sparsely furnished with a simple pine washstand, a tallboy and a couple of bentwood chairs on either side of a large fireplace.

‘You can light a fire if you got the energy,’ Nancy said, taking the candle from Clemency. ‘There’s a coalhole out in the area and kindling in the scullery. Just make sure you locks up after you. We don’t want no vagrants or thieves walking in on us in the middle of the night.’

‘What about me?’ Fancy asked, as Nancy led them out into the passage, closing the door behind her.

‘Are we to share a room?’ Clemency had to quicken her pace in order to keep up with Nancy.

‘We’re probably in the blooming broom cupboard,’ Fancy whispered, giggling.

‘I’ll lock you in there if you give me cheek, young woman.’ Nancy hurried on, leading them back into the kitchen and up the stairs, through the baize door and into the hall. She paused at the foot of the main staircase, holding her side and panting. ‘These stairs will be the death of me. I’ll take you up this once, but you’ll have to find your own way round this rabbit warren of a place in future.’ She mounted the stairs, breathing heavily and grumbling all the way up to the first floor landing.

Clemency saw a chink of light beneath the double doors that led into the drawing room. She wondered if Isobel was in there with her brother, and what explanation he would give her as to why he had taken a bunch of out-of-work entertainers into his house. But that was his problem. Another flight of stairs rose into eerie darkness, but to Clemency’s relief Nancy took them further down the corridor. It felt chilly in this part of the house and their footsteps echoed in spite of the thick carpet. Nancy opened a door at the far end of the passage. ‘This is your room.’ She ushered
them into a large bedroom with two tall windows overlooking the gardens in the centre of the Circus. Pale shards of light from the streetlamps made patterns on the walls, and in the grate a coal fire burned, snapping and crackling, giving the room a friendly feeling of warmth. Clemency looked about in awe. This room was big enough to sleep a dozen people and still leave room for a few more. The four-poster bed could have slept six, without having to lie top to tail. It was too dark to make out the exact colour of the curtains and swags, or the chintz-covered chairs on either side of the fireplace, but they seemed to be pale blue and there was definitely a hint of pink in the flower-patterned carpet.

‘It’s like something out of one of them ladies’ magazines,’ Fancy said in awed tones. ‘I ain’t never seen nothing like it.’ She went over to the fireplace, bending down to feel the softness of the hearthrug. ‘This is lovely and soft. I’ll sleep well here.’