daughterâs hair off her forehead and gave her a fond, indulgent look. âLittle pet,â she crooned. âYou can have whatever makes you happy.â
Sparrow could not take her eyes off them. That could have been me, she was thinking. That could have been me with a mother and a cake and  â¦Â
Now the little girl was biting into the bun, smearing chocolate icing round her mouth. She was laughing. Her mother was laughing. It was extraordinary.
Maybe, Sparrow thought, maybe that woman there was
her
mother and if Sparrow spoke to her now, sheâd immediately recognise her and explain what had gone wrong. But as Sparrow looked longingly at the woman and girl, she realised that they were staring back at her, and not in a friendly way, either.
The child was eyeing Sparrowâs clothes and a look of distaste spoiled her pretty face.
âWhyâs that girl so dirty?â she asked her mother.
âHush dear. You, there, orphanage beggar â donât stare at us!â she snapped at Sparrow. âIâll call the guards if you keep staring!â She held her bag protectively against her chest as if Sparrow was going to snatch it from her.
â
Sorree!
â Sparrow said, as rudely as she could. The womanâs words had cut her to the core. âThereâs no law to say I canât stare at you â a cat can look at a king!â
She forced herself to grin as she picked Scaramouch up and rubbed her face against his. âCanât we, Scaramouch, dear? We can look at anyone and anything, canât we?â
She stalked off, letting Scaramouch settle into her arms with a contented sigh.
âYou poor thing, youâre tired,â Sparrow said. âAll that walking, you poor dear,â and she rubbed his swollen pads. âYour feet must hurt. You have a rest, donât mind me,â she added as he closed his eyes.
A young lady with a happy face smiled at them. âAre you lost, dear? Looking for somewhere particular?â
Sparrow shook her head; but of course she
was
looking for somewhere particular â
Sampsonâs
. At the same time she dreaded finding it; dreaded finding out something that she didnât want to discover at all.
She wandered round and round the market square. Sheâd never seen so much stuff: there were stalls selling clothes, books, food and pots, pans and knives. She wished Mary were with her, sheâd love it â she loved
things
.
Sparrow was getting very hungry. She stopped beside Bertâs Pie Counter, where a pyramid of hot, golden-crusted pies and pastries steamed. A warm, oven smell oozed from the freshly-baked crusts, making her mouth water. She stood there for so long that the man behind the counter finally shooed her away. A notice on the wall behind him said BEGGING IS FORBIDDEN.
Sparrow leaned against the wall and watched the pies from there.
After a while she got a tickling, prickling feeling in her neck and, looking about, saw that another girl, older than her, was staring at her fixedly. She had a mass of long, scraggly hair and wore a short blue jacket. When Sparrow stared back she immediately looked away and pretended to be preoccupied, pulling at her sleeves and digging in her pockets as if looking for money. Sparrow didnât like being watched. She tossed her hair and moved on, searching for any scraps of food that might have fallen, but there was nothing apart from cabbage leaves, rotten fruit and a sleeping dog. She went back to the pie counter and walked round it three times, breathing in the delicious aromas. Next time she looked up, the same girl in the blue jacket was still watching her intently. Now what? Sparrow stared back. The other girl was just as untidy as she was, so it wasnât her clothes she was staring at. She wouldnât let this girl bully her.
The girl came over. âAll right, love?â she said.
She was taller than Sparrow. Her dark hair fell in tight rolls
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