Cat's Cradle

Cat's Cradle by Julia Golding

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Authors: Julia Golding
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said brusquely, taking Bridgit’s arm, ‘so you’ve no need to worry about them. Let’s call it a night, boys, and all go get some sleep.’
    But the O’Riley brothers were having none of it.
    â€˜Bridgit, you come here now or feel the back of my hand!’ threatened the big one.
    Mr Fletcher appeared on the doorstep, a cleaver in his fist. ‘Miss O’Riley is a guest in my ’ouse,’ he growled. ‘She only leaves if she wants to.’
    But Bridgit twirled round, pulling her arm free with evident regret. ‘If it please you, sir, I’ll be going now. Thanks for letting me rest awhile. I’m most obliged to you. I’m coming, Corny.’
    â€˜You don’t need to go, darlin’ – not if you don’t want to,’ added Syd. ‘We can ’andle those brothers of yours.’
    Bridgit shook her head regretfully. ‘That’s very kind of you to offer, but no.’ 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 O’Riley he’d 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 didn’t trust the O’Rileys to be kind to their little sister. They seemed to regard her staying under a Londoner’s roof as a kind of betrayal.
    â€˜â€™Ow did she invite ’erself in?’ 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€˜Easy now, Kitten – retract those claws. I wasn’t criticizing you or ’er. I think you’ve done ’er no favours, though. The O’Rileys ’ave set themselves against everyone in the market. They won’t let ’er ’ave no friends ’ere.’
    It was as I feared. I’d dropped her into a quagmire so I’d 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 didn’t tell the Fletchers exactly where I was going – too much information would not be good for Syd’s peace of mind – 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 couldn’t 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 – just not this bad.
    The sight of a dark-haired labourer carrying a hod of bricks jolted me from my melancholythoughts. I hadn’t come here to wallow in my sense of loss. I scanned the site: here and there among the other Irishmen I spotted the O’Rileys. No sign of Bridgit. But then there wouldn’t be – 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 – many steps above the doorways where I had once slept.
    Trying not to attract the attention of any of the O’Riley 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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