Brightling by Rebecca Lisle Page A

down her back and in complicated plaits and bows, interwoven with brightly-coloured scarves on top of her head. She had a flat brown face with very dark brown eyes and small, crooked teeth that she licked now and then with the tip of her tongue, as if checking they were still there.
    â€˜All right?’ she said again, nodding at Scaramouch as well.
    â€˜Yes. We’re fine,’ Sparrow said. She realised suddenly that she was on the verge of falling down in a faint. ‘Why? What do you care? It’s a free country, isn’t it?’ she snapped, and was furious to hear that her voice cracked.
    â€˜You look like you’re from out of town, you do. Where’ve you come from?’
    â€˜Knip and Pynch Home for Waifs and Strays.’ Sparrow hadn’t the strength to lie.
    â€˜Oh, my!
That
place! I see now  …  Over the swamp? Well, I thought you looked like a stray, and you are – both of yous,’ she added, pointing at Scaramouch. ‘He’s a big one, in’t he? Cheer up, my dear. Gloriana’ll help you.’
    Sparrow felt immediately better, then cautioned herself to be careful. Remember Mrs Nash, she thought.
    â€˜Now, you just ask the nice pie man something,’ said Gloriana. ‘Keep him busy for a moment. Go on, and I’ll get us some nosh.’ She pushed Sparrow back towards the pie stall.
    â€˜Excuse me, Mister Bert,’ Sparrow said when she got there. ‘Have you got any spare, please? A broken bit, a little scrap for the cat and me? We’re very hungry. We’ve walked all day.’
    â€˜So you’re back again, are you?’ Bert pointed to the notice about beggars. ‘Can’t you read?’
    Sparrow glanced at the notice. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gloriana near the pyramid of pies.
    â€˜I can’t read!’ Sparrow cried earnestly. ‘No, I never learned how. I’m just an orphan, up from the country,’ she said. ‘It’s not my fault I’m all alone,’ she went on. ‘And I’ve got to feed my cat, he’s not very well. Please mister, please!’
    â€˜I don’t hold with beggars,’ Bert said, ‘but your cat does look sick. Here, take this one and get on with you. The guards’ll be after you if you don’t watch out! Best get off the streets.’
    He thrust a squashed and mangled pie into a bag and gave it to her. Then he turned suddenly, with a shout to Gloriana: ‘Hey! You! What are you up to, missy?’
    Gloriana held out her grubby, empty hands to him. ‘Nothing, sir,’ she said sweetly. ‘Just looking.’ And she turned away and wandered off as if she and Sparrow were in no way connected.
    Sparrow went in the other direction and sat down on the first bit of low wall she came to. She’d only invented the story of Scaramouch being sick to get sympathy, but now she wondered if perhaps he really was ill. He had been very quiet since they’d arrived in Stollenback. She smoothed his fur and tried to interest him in the food.
    A few minutes later Gloriana joined her. ‘You’re a natural,’ Gloriana said, patting Sparrow’s knee. She grinned. ‘I never even needed my thieving fingers, did I?’ And she brought out a steaming, undamaged meat pie from a pocket in her voluminous trousers and placed it beside Sparrow on the wall.
    â€˜You didn’t need to steal. The pie man gave me this,’ Sparrow said.
    â€˜You always have to steal,’ said Gloriana. ‘Because if you don’t, they will. There’s them that takes and them that gives, and you have to be one or the other. I’ve got nothing to give so I have to take. It’s fair, I reckon.’
    â€˜I suppose.’ Scaramouch ate a little piece of pie but didn’t seem very interested in it. It was a shame Little Jean and Mary weren’t here to share the food; they were always hungry.
    â€˜Don’t he like steak