said brusquely, taking Bridgitâs arm, âso youâve no need to worry about them. Letâs call it a night, boys, and all go get some sleep.â
But the OâRiley brothers were having none of it.
âBridgit, you come here now or feel the back of my hand!â threatened the big one.
Mr Fletcher appeared on the doorstep, a cleaver in his fist. âMiss OâRiley is a guest in my âouse,â he growled. âShe only leaves if she wants to.â
But Bridgit twirled round, pulling her arm free with evident regret. âIf it please you, sir, Iâll be going now. Thanks for letting me rest awhile. Iâm most obliged to you. Iâm coming, Corny.â
âYou donât need to go, darlinâ â not if you donât want to,â added Syd. âWe can âandle those brothers of yours.â
Bridgit shook her head regretfully. âThatâs very kind of you to offer, but no.â Touching me brieflyon my arm, she stepped forward. Syd fell back to let her pass, sparing a bemused but appreciative look for the first non-punching OâRiley heâd met. The big brother, Corny, hooked her roughly by the elbow and dragged her off in the middle of a press of brothers. I almost called her back; I didnât trust the OâRileys to be kind to their little sister. They seemed to regard her staying under a Londonerâs roof as a kind of betrayal.
ââOw did she invite âerself in?â asked Syd, yawning as the events of the night took their toll.
â
I
invited her, Syd, after finding her alone in the middle of a punch-up!â
âEasy now, Kitten â retract those claws. I wasnât criticizing you or âer. I think youâve done âer no favours, though. The OâRileys âave set themselves against everyone in the market. They wonât let âer âave no friends âere.â
It was as I feared. Iâd dropped her into a quagmire so Iâd just have to make sure she got out.
The next day, Syd and his dad were busy out back with a fresh delivery of livestock. Making myexcuses to Mrs Fletcher, I set off to check on the fate of my new friend. I didnât tell the Fletchers exactly where I was going â too much information would not be good for Sydâs peace of mind â but it was not unnatural of me to wish to see my old home, was it? I mean, Reader, what was more likely than for Cat Royal to stroll around the corner and inspect progress on the new Drury Lane? It was not as if I went looking for trouble. Honest.
My pace faltered as I turned into Russell Street. The theatre had gone. The soaring walls, columns and arched windows all flattened into a featureless quarry. Men scurried over the site with barrows of rubble. New foundations were being dug, enveloping the outline of the old building like a whale swallowing a fish whole. I couldnât feel excited about the signs that the theatre was indeed rising from the dust once again; all I could feel was devastation.
I knew it would be bad â just not this bad.
The sight of a dark-haired labourer carrying a hod of bricks jolted me from my melancholythoughts. I hadnât come here to wallow in my sense of loss. I scanned the site: here and there among the other Irishmen I spotted the OâRileys. No sign of Bridgit. But then there wouldnât be â not among the men. I wondered if the builders employed any females. From a quick look round, it seemed not. It was then I remembered that she said they lived in one of the temporary huts built to accommodate the workers. They were in plain sight, over where the carpentry store used to be. Better quality than I expected, they made decent enough homes â many steps above the doorways where I had once slept.
Trying not to attract the attention of any of the OâRiley brothers, I skirted the site and dodged into the alley between the huts. I could see a few other women going
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