Anne Perry's Christmas Vigil by Anne Perry Page A

Gracie said sharply. “We’ll just know where ’e might a picked up the casket … an’ o’ course where ’e couldn’t’ve, since ’e in’t bin there yet.”
    Minnie Maude looked hopeful. “We’ll go and see Jimmy Quick.” She squinted up at the sky. “We could get there now, but ’e won’t be ’ome yet.”
    Gracie was more concerned with thinking of a good reason to go back to ask Jimmy Quick about the route he took, so they could explain why they asked.
    â€œWot’s the matter?” Minnie Maude demanded, the fear back in her voice.
    â€œNuffink,” Gracie said immediately, wondering why she was suddenly putting off telling the truth. “Jus’ planning wot ter say, cos why we want ter know? Jimmy Quick in’t silly. ’E’s gonna ask. We gotta ’ave summink ter say as could be true.”
    â€œWe wanna know w’ere me Uncle Alf died,” Minnie Maude said, watching Gracie carefully. “I’m gonna put a flower there.”
    â€œÂ â€™Ave yer got one?” Gracie said reasonably. “I got twopence. We could buy some … if yer like?”
    Minnie Maude nodded. “Thank yer. That’s …” She searched for a word for the complicated emotion. “Good,” she finished, unsatisfied.
    Gracie smiled at her, and suddenly Minnie Maude beamed back, her whole face lit with gratitude. They had a plan.
    â€œWe’ll go ter see Jimmy Quick this evening,” Gracie said decisively. “If we wait till termorrer,’e’ll mebbe take us, an’ we don’t want ’im ter, cos we need ter ask questions it’s better as ’e don’t know.”
    Minnie Maude nodded vigorously.
    â€œI’ll meet yer ’ere, at ’alf past lights on,” Gracie went on. She looked up at the lamppost just above where they stood. “Watch for the lamplighter. ’E’s usually reg’lar. Yer wait, if I in’t ’ere right away.”
    Minnie Maude nodded again.

    G racie continued with her duties for the day, missing some out and working double speed at others. She tried not to think of the wild promises she had made to Minnie Maude Mudway. She must have lost all the sense she’d ever had! Now she was scrubbing the kitchen bench, lye stinging her hands, fingers wet and cold. The sleet outside was turning to snow, everyone else was thinking of Christmas, and she was planning to go and ask arag and bone man what his route was, so she could look for the people who had murdered Alf Mudway for a casket! Oh—and the real purpose of the whole thing was to find a donkey, who was probably as right as rain somewhere else, and not sparing them a thought in its head. If donkeys had thoughts.
    Then on the other hand, he might be wandering around alone, lost, scared stiff, knowing his master was dead, because he had seen it happen. He could be shivering, wet and frightened, not knowing what to do about it—and hungry. She imagined him, standing in the dark and the rain, ears down, tail down, slowly getting wetter and wetter. She really didn’t have any choice.
    Added to which, if she didn’t help, then Minnie Maude would go off and do it on her own. Gracie knew that without doubt, because Minnie Maude was only eight, and had no idea what she was doing. And Aunt Bertha didn’t care. Somebody had to look after Minnie Maude, just like Minnie Maude had to look after Charlie. Some thingscouldn’t be helped, no matter how daft they were, and how much you knew better.
    Which is why she kept running out at the back to see if the lamplighter had been yet, and when she saw the light in the distance, she lied to her gran that she had promised old Mrs. Dampier to run an errand for her. Mrs. Dampier never remembered anything, so she wouldn’t know. Gracie slipped out of the kitchen into the rain before she could answer the inevitable