take me home, then I’ll just keep coming back.’
She stared into his face earnestly. ‘Can’t you see, Dad? I love it here. I’m happy here. And best of all, everyone benefits by it. Especially me mum. She might want me home now, but she won’t when we’re back in the docks, will she?’
Paddy knew when he was defeated, but at least he could tell Molly and Eileen the truth now. That he’d come to get her and she’d refused. A little while later, as he made his way home in the cab paid for by Briony, he realised something. For all the trouble he was having with Eileen, he’d rather that than have her thinking like his Briony, and that was a turn up because Briony was their golden goose. Yet Eileen, it seemed to him, was more of a decent girl than ever, for all she’d been through with that scumbag. Whereas Briony, who’d taken to it like a duck to water, had broken his heart.
Chapter Four
It was thick snow and Briony had had to brave the freezing weather to get a cab. Even in her thick coat and dress, fur hat and muff, she was still frozen. Her face was stinging with the cold and as the horse moved slowly through the icy streets she waggled her toes in her boots to stop them from going numb. It was her second Christmas at Henry Dumas’ house and she was a different girl altogether to the one who had arrived there fourteen months earlier. At eleven, she had grown. Her breasts were forming and the good food had put flesh on her bones. Her face had rounded, giving her a look of a young woman already. Her hair was still a fiery red, only now she wore it in a neat chignon pinned to her head with expert precision by Mrs Horlock.
Briony had also changed inside herself. She wasn’t as happy-go-lucky as she had been, and she was sensing a change in Henry Dumas as her body developed. She bit on her lip and watched the traffic in the streets, mainly pedestrians, a few ragamuffins running around offering to hold horses’ bridles or carry people’s shopping for a halfpenny. The majority of the people wore sacking over their clothes to try and keep the snow from freezing their bodies entirely.
As they approached Barking Broadway, the horse’s pace slowed even more. Briony pushed down the window of the cab and stared out. Then she saw him.
He was a tall boy of about thirteen, dressed in ragged trousers and jacket though his heavy boots were obviously new. Brand new, not second hand new. Briony was struck by his appearance because he had the thickest, blackest hair and eyebrows she had ever seen in her life. As she watched him from the cab she saw him stumble into a well-dressed man and apologise profusely before walking on. Briony smiled. He was dipping. She watched as another boy stepped by him and was given the wallet. It was all over in a split second and now the first boy ambled on again, safe in the knowledge that if he was stopped, he had no evidence on his person. Briony was fascinated by it all, and from her vantage point kept a close eye on him.
His next victim was to be a young docker, the worse for drink and also stumbling. She noticed the way that the pickpocket kept his cap pulled down low over his face; his clothes, well-pressed though old, were obviously new to him. He couldn’t quite carry himself in them properly. More used to being ragged arsed. Briony watched the boy bump into the docker, and then it all went wrong. The young man grabbed the boy’s hand like a vice. Briony saw them start struggling and banged on the wooden side of the cab for it to stop. Getting out, she ran over to where the two men were arguing, attracting the attention of more than a few people. She pushed her way through and, without giving it a second’s thought, dragged the dark boy free.
All the people there took in her clothes and assumed she was from the upper classes. She looked it, from her well-shod feet to her fur hat and muff. She looked into the dark boy’s face and in her best imitation of Henry Dumas’ voice,
She stared into his face earnestly. ‘Can’t you see, Dad? I love it here. I’m happy here. And best of all, everyone benefits by it. Especially me mum. She might want me home now, but she won’t when we’re back in the docks, will she?’
Paddy knew when he was defeated, but at least he could tell Molly and Eileen the truth now. That he’d come to get her and she’d refused. A little while later, as he made his way home in the cab paid for by Briony, he realised something. For all the trouble he was having with Eileen, he’d rather that than have her thinking like his Briony, and that was a turn up because Briony was their golden goose. Yet Eileen, it seemed to him, was more of a decent girl than ever, for all she’d been through with that scumbag. Whereas Briony, who’d taken to it like a duck to water, had broken his heart.
Chapter Four
It was thick snow and Briony had had to brave the freezing weather to get a cab. Even in her thick coat and dress, fur hat and muff, she was still frozen. Her face was stinging with the cold and as the horse moved slowly through the icy streets she waggled her toes in her boots to stop them from going numb. It was her second Christmas at Henry Dumas’ house and she was a different girl altogether to the one who had arrived there fourteen months earlier. At eleven, she had grown. Her breasts were forming and the good food had put flesh on her bones. Her face had rounded, giving her a look of a young woman already. Her hair was still a fiery red, only now she wore it in a neat chignon pinned to her head with expert precision by Mrs Horlock.
Briony had also changed inside herself. She wasn’t as happy-go-lucky as she had been, and she was sensing a change in Henry Dumas as her body developed. She bit on her lip and watched the traffic in the streets, mainly pedestrians, a few ragamuffins running around offering to hold horses’ bridles or carry people’s shopping for a halfpenny. The majority of the people wore sacking over their clothes to try and keep the snow from freezing their bodies entirely.
As they approached Barking Broadway, the horse’s pace slowed even more. Briony pushed down the window of the cab and stared out. Then she saw him.
He was a tall boy of about thirteen, dressed in ragged trousers and jacket though his heavy boots were obviously new. Brand new, not second hand new. Briony was struck by his appearance because he had the thickest, blackest hair and eyebrows she had ever seen in her life. As she watched him from the cab she saw him stumble into a well-dressed man and apologise profusely before walking on. Briony smiled. He was dipping. She watched as another boy stepped by him and was given the wallet. It was all over in a split second and now the first boy ambled on again, safe in the knowledge that if he was stopped, he had no evidence on his person. Briony was fascinated by it all, and from her vantage point kept a close eye on him.
His next victim was to be a young docker, the worse for drink and also stumbling. She noticed the way that the pickpocket kept his cap pulled down low over his face; his clothes, well-pressed though old, were obviously new to him. He couldn’t quite carry himself in them properly. More used to being ragged arsed. Briony watched the boy bump into the docker, and then it all went wrong. The young man grabbed the boy’s hand like a vice. Briony saw them start struggling and banged on the wooden side of the cab for it to stop. Getting out, she ran over to where the two men were arguing, attracting the attention of more than a few people. She pushed her way through and, without giving it a second’s thought, dragged the dark boy free.
All the people there took in her clothes and assumed she was from the upper classes. She looked it, from her well-shod feet to her fur hat and muff. She looked into the dark boy’s face and in her best imitation of Henry Dumas’ voice,
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