A Christmas Promise by Anne Perry Page A

her eyes on Jimmy’s. “I jus’ wanted ter ask yer wot way yer goes, so I can find the place ’e died, exact like.”
    “Wot for?” he said with amazement. “’e’s dead, girl. Goin’ starin’ at a place in’t gonna change nothin’.”
    Minnie Maude took a deep breath. “I know that. But I wanter put a flower there. ’e should a bin with us for Christmas,” she added.
    Jimmy Quick swore under his breath. “Yer don’t never let go, do yer? I already told yer where ’e were found. Yer got ’oles in yer ’ead, yer don’t remember? ’e were in Richard Street, like I said.”
    Minnie Maude was temporarily speechless.
    Jimmy stepped back to close the door.
    “’ow d’yer get there?” Gracie asked him.
    “Yer ’ere an’ all?” He peered at her as if, in the shadows, he had not seen her. “Why d’yer care?”
    Gracie decided to attack. “Look at ’er!” she told him angrily. “Size of ’er. She’d make a twopenny rabbit look good. Can’t go an’ leave ’er ter do it on ’er own, can I? She in’t got no ma, ’er aunt Bertha don’t wanna know—she’s got ’er own griefs—an’ Stan wouldn’t throw a bucket o’ water on ’er if she were on fire, let alone take ’er ter Richard Street. Alf were all she ’ad. Wot’s the matter wif yer?Can’t yer jus’ tell ’er which way ter go?” She scowled as if she found him highly suspicious. “Summink wrong wif it, then?”
    “Course there in’t, yer daft little girl,” he said sharply, then he rattled off a list of streets, and she closed her eyes, concentrating on remembering them, before she looked back at him and thanked him. Then she grabbed Minnie Maude by the hand and retreated into the darkness and the jumble of the yard, pulling Minnie Maude with her. She was not ready to speak yet. She needed to concentrate on memorizing the streets, before they went out of her head. She wished she could write, then they could be kept safe longer. She could bring them back anytime she wanted—days from now, weeks even. One day she would learn, then she’d be able to keep every idea that mattered, forever. That would be like owning the whole world! You could always have people talking to you, telling you their dreams, their ideas. She would do it, absolutely definitely—one day.
    She repeated the street names one more time, then turned to Minnie Maude.
    “We’ll go termorrer,” she told her. “You say the streets over an’ over, too, case I forget.”
    “I got ’em.” Minnie Maude nodded. “When termorrer?”
    Gracie started to walk briskly back toward their own streets, Minnie Maude’s first, then hers. They were facing the wind now, and it was colder. “Termorrer,” she said.

I n the morning, shreds of the fog still lingered. The air was as still as the dead, a rime of ice covered the stones so that they were slick underfoot, and all the gutters were frozen over.
    Gracie found Minnie Maude in the usual place, her shawl hugged around her, hands hidden under it. Every few moments the girl banged her feet on the ground to jar them into life. The instantshe saw Gracie, she came forward and the two girls fell into step, walking quickly to begin their detection.
    Gracie recited the streets over in her mind, trying to make a pattern out of them, so she wouldn’t forget.
    “I’m gonna learn ter read,” she muttered to herself as they trudged along.
    “Me, too,” Minnie Maude added.
    Cannon Street was busy with lots of carts and drays, and a sweeper to keep the manure off the main crossings at the corners. He was working hard now, his arms swinging the broom with considerable force as he got rid of the last droppings left only a few minutes before. It was difficult to tell how old he was. He was less than five feet tall, but his narrow shoulders looked strong. His trousers were too long for him, and frayed at the bottoms over his boots. His coat came past his knees, and his cap rested on his ears. When he smiled at them, they