Anne Perry's Christmas Vigil by Anne Perry Page B

questions.
    Minnie Maude was waiting for her, standing huddled in the shadows, her shawl wrapped around her head and shoulders, skirts flapping damply in the gusty wind, boots soaked. But her face lit with happiness when she saw Gracie, and she darted out of the shelter of the wall and fell in step beside her without giving her time to hesitate or say anything more than “ ’Ello.”
    â€œÂ â€™E’ll be ’ome now,” Minnie Maude said, skipping a step to match her stride with Gracie’s. “ ’Avin’ ’is tea. We’ll ask ’im.”
    They walked in silence, their feet echoing on the cobbles. The snow had almost stopped, and it was beginning to freeze hard in the few places where it lay. It was wise to watch for icy patches, so as not to slip. Most of the lamps were lit, and there was a yellow warmth to them, like lighted windows to some palace of the mind. There was a slight fog rising, muffling the sound of distant wheels, and every now and then the mournful bellow of a foghorn sounded somewhere down on the river.
    There wasn’t much to show that Christmas was only a couple of days away, just the occasional wreath of leaves on a door, some with bright berries; or someone passing by singing a snatch of a song, happy and lilting, not the usual bawdy version of the latest from the music halls. In daylight, of course, there might have been a barrel organ, but this was far too late.
    They reached Jimmy Quick’s gate and made their way across the yard carefully to avoid theclutter, not wanting either to knock anything over or to bash their shins on a crate or old chair.
    Jimmy was not pleased to see them. He stood in the doorway, looking immense, with the kitchen candles wavering in the draft behind him and making his shadow loom and bend.
    â€œWhat d’yer want now, Minnie Maude? Yer gettin’ ter be a nuisance,” he said angrily. “I can’t tell yer nothin’, ’ceptin’ I’m sorry Alf’s dead. I dunno wot ’appened ter ’im. I only know it in’t my fault, an’ yer can come as many times as yer like, it still in’t. I don’t owe yer a bleeding thing!”
    â€œCourse,” Minnie Maude said generously. Standing behind her, Gracie could see that she was shaking, but she kept 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.”
    â€œWot 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.
    â€œÂ â€™Ow d’yer get there?” Gracie asked him.
    â€œYer ’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,