Brightling by Rebecca Lisle Page B

and onions?’ Gloriana said, watching Scaramouch. ‘Fussy, is he?’
    â€˜Just very tired, I think,’ said Sparrow.
    â€˜Don’t you look so worried,’ said Gloriana, waving a chunk of pie at her then biting into it. ‘Think of it as sharing, sharing with Mr Bert. Can’t have you starve, can we?’
    The girl was older than Sparrow had first imagined, about seventeen, she guessed. Although she was so slight and not very tall, her face showed some strain and lines that only come with time.
    â€˜Amazing cat, that,’ said Gloriana. ‘Is it friendly, then?’
    â€˜He is.’ Sparrow stroked Scaramouch’s head, smoothing the tiny hairs on the bridge of his nose and gently running her fingers over his head, between his ears. He did purr, but only faintly, which was unusual. ‘He’s my best friend. His name is Scaramouch.’
    â€˜What’s a
Skarra-moosh
, then? Or is it like what he does, scares the mouses, eh? He’s a Scare-a-mouse?’ She gingerly scratched Scaramouch under one ear. ‘Big, in’t he?’
    Sparrow grinned. ‘Someone told me his name meant acrobat, and he
can
do all sorts of tricks. You should see him climbing trees and walking along a rope even – it’s amazing!’
    â€˜Well, well. And where are you going, you and the Scare-a-mouse cat?’ Gloriana asked her.
    â€˜Here, to Stollenback.’
    â€˜So you’ve somewhere to stay then? Friends?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜You’ve got some money though, for lodgings?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜I see.’ Gloriana stuck her hands into the pockets of her voluminous trousers and made a face. ‘I see.’
    Silence fell. They finished eating the pies and watched the people milling around. Sparrow went on stroking Scaramouch and waited to hear his purr grow stronger and waited to hear what the other girl might suggest. She was sure she would suggest something; she could almost hear the cogs and wheels working in Gloriana’s brain.
    â€˜I live in Sto’back – that’s what we call it – and I can take you home with me if you like,’ Gloriana said at last, as if she’d come to a difficult decision. ‘A kind woman I know, a lady she is, she keeps a sort of hostel here, a hostel for young girls like you who might be lost and in need of help. She don’t charge nothing, neither.’
    â€˜Oh. I see.’ Sparrow was immediately suspicious. ‘No thanks.’
    Gloriana laughed and gave Sparrow a friendly nudge. ‘I in’t going to kidnap you, if that’s your worry.’
    Sparrow tried to smile too, but Betty Nash had seemed kind enough to begin with. It wasn’t easy being an orphan; it wasn’t easy having nothing more in your life than a cat, a shawl and the name of a shop  …  Why would this hostel keeper, this lady, not charge for rent unless she wanted something in return?
    â€˜Some ladies are just kind ’cos they’re kind,’ Gloriana said, reading her thoughts. ‘You’re angry, in’t you? I can see that, but you don’t need to be worried about Miss Minter.’ She licked her little tongue over her teeth again, probing into a molar, and wincing. ‘What would you rather do? Stay out on the streets and get caught by the codgers or by
real
kidnappers, or come back with me safe and sound where you can at least sleep the night in a proper bed, eh? It’s tough out here, you know – times is hard in Sto’back.’
    â€˜I don’t know  … ’
    â€˜They call me Glori,’ the girl added. ‘Gloriana’s a right mouthful.’
    â€˜I’m Sparrow,’ Sparrow said.
    â€˜Well, Sparrow, little bird, let’s get going, shall we?’
    Glori knew every back street and turning. She never hesitated as she went down Cottage Road, Meanwood Lane, Spittle Street, even There And Back Again Lane, which was