Dodger (38 page)

‘Told you I'd change into something more feminine,' she said with a cackle.

We ignored her, picked up our clothes and threw them into the trunk. We still had plenty of money upon us to get lodgings elsewhere, but I hoped that Evershed had not made an inventory of what we had been given in Australia as he was not likely to get much back. Before leaving I asked Greta if she had heard about what fate had befallen Jem.

‘He ain't been tried yet if that's what you're asking,' she said as she led us back down the steps towards the door. ‘But he'll swing, I'm sure of that. I tell you, I never liked the boy – he used to hit Ruby and was a murdering bastard – but still I would not wish the rope on any poor creature.'

‘Me neither,' I said before we stepped out into the chilly air. ‘If only he had not got took. But there was nothing that could have been done.' I sighed and put on my hat before taking another look around this dark house where Bill had killed Nancy. It was now full of the sounds of women talking and I could hear some laughter from a room above. ‘This place has a sad history,' I said to her before I left it forever. ‘I hope that's all done with.'

‘It will be –' Greta nodded all proud – ‘now I'm in charge. There won't be no Bills or Jems worming their way back in here no more.' Then she stood in front of the door, blocking our path, and touched Warrigal's nose as if they was sweethearts. ‘You can
come by whenever you care to though, my handsome. Say you will or I ain't letting you out.'

And only after he promised not to be a stranger did she finally stand aside and let us go about our business.

*

‘Fog!' I said as I rapped on a red door what was marked with three painted Chinese letters. It was late the next day and we was just off Limehouse Reach. The stone steps was thick with mud from the banks and gulls flew above from the nearby docks. The smells of rich spices all around was a treat for the nostrils and as nighttime drew in these lanes was getting even busier with sailors and dockers out looking for fun.

‘Fog what?' came the sharp reply from within.

‘Fog everywhere!' I answered, having been told these watchwords by Georgie. Some chains could be heard rattling on the other side and the door was opened by a young Chinaman what I took to be one of the sons of Wu. ‘Your name is Ling, if I recall,' I said to the pigtailed boy who was a few years younger than myself and dressed in a silk robe with a black skullcap. ‘I'm Artful and I used to play cards with your father. He about?' The boy shook his head but I told him this did not matter as our business was with another man anyway. I flashed him some gold coins and asked if we could come inside. ‘Looking for Eddie Inderwick,' I said to him. ‘I'm told this is his home of sorts.' After pocketing them the boy admitted myself and Warrigal into the den and before the door was even shut after us we was breathing in the sweet fumes of opium. The boy pointed down a long corridor of doorless rooms what was overhung with many-coloured silk curtains and lit with Chinese lanterns. He told us to go behind the loose purple one hanging at the far end and, as we walked towards it, this heavy smoke puffed out from behind the other rooms. Behind
most of them we could hear bubbling sounds and make out the figures of people lighting their oil lamps through the fine materials and lying back to smoke in the strong-smelling vapours.

I pulled back the purple drapes and stepped into the small room beyond, which contained three male bodies lain out on long wooden shelves but who was all difficult to identify on account of the heavy fug. I coughed loud to see if any of them would stir but none did and so I approached and leant in close to see which was Eddie. The first man was a grey-haired Lascar and the next was also far too old to be our man but the third, what was half-covered in a dirty blanket and muttering to himself in his sleep, was just about recognisable as the once-respected prefect of Saffron Hill. His thin pillow was damp from his sweat and he was wearing brown corduroy trousers with no belt and an open thick grey shirt what was missing buttons. I was much taken aback by how awful and aged he now appeared. This was the older boy what I used to admire so much and who I remembered as having the healthy glow of a sportsman. Now he was thin-skinned and sunken-eyed and his fitful sleep seemed most distressed as he gibbered something unintelligible. He held the opium pipe against his chest with one hand and the lamp it was attached to was all used up. I pitied him then as I crouched close beside and I wished there was some way to bring peace to his much-troubled mind.

‘Eddie,' I said instead, and prodded him in the face. ‘Wake yourself.' His eyes snapped awake and he glared at me in horror.

‘Murder!' he cried, sitting straight up and trying to protect himself with the blanket. ‘There's a murderer here!'

‘Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,' I tried to shush him in a soothing way, ‘I ain't a murderer. I'm Jack Dawkins, one of Fagin's boys what came after you. Remember?' Eddie's scared panting continued as he looked at me and then around the rest of the room as if reminding
himself as to where he was. ‘I don't mean you no harm,' I promised him. ‘I'm a friend.'

‘Jack Dawkins,' he whispered at last, saying the name slow as if testing it.

‘That's it. The Artful Dodger, you knew me as.' I nodded again and smiled at him. He leaned his wet brow close to mine as if about to tell me an awful secret.

‘Am I seeing things?' he asked.

‘No. I'm back from Australia and grown tall.'

‘Not you,' he shivered and pointed a bony finger towards Warrigal. ‘
That!
'

‘Warrigal ain't a vision, Eddie,' I assured him as he shrunk from my companion. ‘He's an interested party. We're here to give you some money in return for some questions answered. Are you fit to talk or should I slap you gentle first? It might help concentrate your mind.'

Eddie's face became as pained as an abandoned baby. ‘Water,' he demanded. I saw a bottle by the sleeping Lascar, handed it to Eddie and watched as he poured it down his throat. Once it was empty he wiped his lips with his shirtsleeve and looked at the empty shelf opposite his in horrid fascination. ‘There was a murderer,' he told me. ‘Lying there. A man who was planning to murder.'

‘Well, don't you worry, Eddie,' I told him. ‘He ain't here to bother you now. And if he does come back then we'll chase him off together, eh, you and me. Now, I want to ask you if you've ever seen anything like this?' I reached into my pocket and pulled out the two halves of my doll. But Eddie's eyes was still on where this murderer had been lying.

‘Told me everything, he did, as he sucked on his murderer's pipe.' His eyes was unblinking and he spoke slow. ‘Who he was going to kill, why, how … the whole plot.'

‘It's a doll what Fagin gave me,' I continued, ignoring this, ‘and I'm hoping he may have given you one just like it.' I waved the Indian prince's face in his. He blinked and looked from the doll to me. ‘Ring any bells? Fagin ever give you one like it?'

‘Fagin!' said Eddie, his whole self brightening at the name. ‘Good old Fagin.' His eyes shut and a broad smile spread across his face.

‘Good old Fagin,' I agreed. ‘You was always his favourite, was you not?'

‘Heh,' he nodded. ‘I was. He used to tell me that often.'

‘Did he ever give you anything to prove it?' I went on, still holding the doll up. ‘Like one of these?' Eddie looked to Warrigal again and then at the door.

‘Is he here?' he asked. ‘Has he come to take me back to his house?'

‘No,' I sighed. ‘Fagin ain't here.'

‘Have you come to take me back there? Are we going home?'

‘No. Eddie, Fagin's dead.'

Eddie looked stricken at this. He turned back to the empty shelf. ‘Murdered?'

‘In a way, yeah. They hung him.'

He groaned aloud and looked up to the ceiling. ‘It was the nephew,' he cried. ‘The nephew!'

‘What nephew?'

Eddie pointed his shaky finger back to where this murderer had lain. ‘That's where he's going now. To kill the nephew. Where's my pipe?'

‘Your pipe is here,' I said, pointing to the thing what was coiled up on the bed like a sleeping snake, ‘but your lamp is empty. Tell me about this doll and I'll give you some coins to pay for more. Did Fagin ever give a doll like this to you?' Eddie picked up the
pipe and tried sucking from it. When he realised there was nothing coming through he slumped over and rested his hands in his face. ‘You hear what I said, Eddie?' I continued, losing patience with his drugged state. ‘About Fagin?'

‘I don't know about Fagin,' he whimpered. ‘Ask him yourself, why don't you?'

‘I'm asking you!' I snapped, and then hit him hard across the face. ‘Have you seen this or ain't you? Don't mess me about, Eddie. I ain't in the humour for it.' The Lascar and the older man both woke up at this and saw Eddie crying in a crumpled state against the clay wall. ‘Go back to sleep,' I told them. ‘This don't concern you.'

I had not meant to be so violent with him but I had been overcome with a sudden fury at what a wretch he had turned out to be. Charley had said that I would find the great pickpocket living in squalor and I was vexed that Eddie had proved him right. I grabbed his ragged shirt and started shaking him. ‘You was our hero, Eddie,' I shouted at him. ‘You was the one Fagin wanted us to grow up to be most like. You let us all down!'

He was snivelling now and his hands was up to shield himself from another strike what I was fixing myself to give him. Then a hand rested on my shoulder.

‘Shh,' Warrigal told me. Then he nodded towards the curtain, where the Chinese boy was peering through to see what the fuss was. ‘Too much noise from you.'

I breathed in and turned back to Eddie. ‘Look,' I said with the doll still held out to him and in a softer but still firm voice, ‘you've either seen one of these before or no.' Eddie looked at the toy and shook his head as if in horror. ‘Very well,' I said, and got to my feet. I took some pennies from out of a coin-purse and chucked them on the floor near where he lay. He began scrambling around
on all fours trying to pick them up. It was a disgusting sight. ‘Have a pleasant evening, Inderwick,' I said with scorn and pushed the curtain aside as I stormed out. Warrigal followed as I strode through the heady fumes of the corridor and into the fog-filled night.

*

‘Shameful!' I ranted as the hackney cab we had hailed in Limehouse neared Saffron Hill. ‘Shameful and pathetic, that's what I call it.' Throughout the whole journey I had been venting my frustration and Warrigal had sat opposite listening in silence. ‘To think of all the talent and education he was given! He was destined for greatness. I'm glad Fagin never lived to see the sorry sight he's become.'

That Eddie could not help me find the Jakkapoor stone was of course a terrible, if not unexpected, blow. But it was not just this what was getting me so emotional on that dark cab ride to the Three Cripples. I was raging about all of Fagin's boys, these lads what I had so missed while away in Australia and with whom I had longed to be reunited. I had spent years holding them up as the finest collection of companions a cove could have and yet ever since my return I had met with nothing but shabby failures and disappointments. Alan Mullins was in Newgate after getting himself locked inside a shop he was trying to burgle, Reggie the Dipper was living on the streets and Joe Scoggins had been killed in a knife fight what he himself had started. Jem and Georgie was clowns what had made such a mess of a simple burglary that they had brought the full force of the police thundering into the rookeries, while Mouse Flynn was just a weakling hiding behind a woman's skirt. The only one of my childhood friends who had amounted to much was Charley and he had done this by fleeing London to work as an honest flat. They had all lost the steel they had shown in their youth and was now a broken collection of
drifters, cowards and opium fiends and I wondered how I had ever considered any of them my equal.

Warrigal's face spoke of nothing as I ranted; he just sat opposite me and let me get it all out. And it occurred to me then that perhaps here was the only person what I could hope to call a friend. He had tried to kill me, this was an undeniable truth, and perhaps he still would if Evershed ordered it. But in the time I had spent with him he had shown himself to be capable and talented, smart and brave. It was a shocking realisation to discover that I thought more of him now than I did of any of Fagin's boys and I wondered what he made of me. If he did have to kill me, I wondered for the first time as the cab drew up outside the Cripples, would he be sorry or glad about it?

The smoke of Fagin's favourite night haunt was as thick with tobacco as Wu's had been with opium and, as I pushed open both doors at once in order to make as dramatic an entrance as was possible, the potent whiff of gin and beer hit me just as hard. I had wanted the patrons of the establishment to notice myself and my remarkable companion as we cut straight through to the bar, as I had been hoping that someone might have heard about my hunt for a doll and would have it there waiting for me. The Cripples was not busy on this particular night, there being just a few knots of rough characters about the place, all eyeing our fine tailorings with suspicion, and some prostitutes what took an immediate interest and began their approach. But I brushed them aside and addressed the landlord, what stood behind the bar pouring some whisky into a glass for me before I had even asked for it. ‘So, Barney,' I said after I had took the glass from him and knocked it back, ‘any news?'

I had visited the Cripples earlier that day with Warrigal and had asked Barney what he remembered about this Oliver Twist
character what had been the ruin of Fagin. He said that he remembered the boy well and was surprised that I did not. He did not know what became of the lad after the trial, but there was a crooked lawyer of his acquaintance what was familiar with the case and he said he could ask him for more details. I paid him good money to do this and now, less than eight hours later, I was back and hoping for some joy at last.