Anne Perry's Christmas Vigil Read Online Free Page A

the same set, yet it was all excellent, the most delicate Gracie had ever seen, hand-painted and rimmed in gold. No two saucepans were the same either, or had lids that fitted, but all were handsome enough, even if there was little to put in them besides potatoes, onions, and cabbage, and perhaps a few bones for flavor.
    In the far corner stood a magnificent mangle, with odd rollers, one white, one gray; a collection of flatirons, most of them broken; and severallanterns missing either sides or handles. Perhaps the bits and pieces might make two usable ones between them?
    Mrs. Quick was standing expectantly by the stove, on which a copper kettle was gleaming in the gaslight, steam whistling out of the spout. She was an ample woman wearing a blue dress patched in a dozen places without thought for matching anything, and she wore a marvelous old velvet cape around her shoulders. It was vivid red, and apart from a burn on one side, appeared as good as new.
    â€œAh! So you’re Bert Mudway’s girl,” she said to Minnie Maude with satisfaction, then turned to Gracie. “An’ ’oo are you, then? In’t seen yer before.”
    â€œGracie Phipps, ma’am,” Gracie replied.
    â€œNever ’eard of yer. Still an’ all, I ’spec yer’d like a cup o’ tea. That daft Jimmy kept yer standin’ out there in the cold. Goin’ ter snow, like as not, before the day’s out.”
    â€œThey come about Alf,” Jimmy explained.
    â€œCourse they ’ave.” She took the kettle off the hob, warmed an enormous white and wine-colored teapot with half a handle, then made the tea, spooning the leaves from a caddy with an Indian woman painted on the front. “Got no milk,” she apologized. “Yer’ll ’ave ter ’ave it straight. Give yer ’alf a spoon of ’oney?”
    â€œThank you,” Gracie accepted, and took the same for Minnie Maude.
    When they were sitting on a random collection of chairs, Mrs. Quick expressed her approval of Uncle Alf, and her sympathy for Minnie Maude, and then for Bertha. “Too bad for ’er,” she said, shaking her head. “That bruvver of ’ers is more trouble than ’e’s worth. Pity it weren’t ’im as got done in.”
    â€œWouldn’t ’ave ’appened to ’im,” Jimmy said miserably.
    â€œI reckon as it were that golden tin, or wotever it were,” she said, giving Jimmy a sharp look, andshaking her head again. “ ’E said as ’e thought they never meant ter put it out.”
    Minnie Maude sat up sharply, nearly spilling her tea. “Wot were that, then?” she asked eagerly.
    Jimmy glanced at his wife. “Don’t go puttin’ ideas inter ’er ’ead. We never saw no gold tin. It were jus’ Tommy Cob ramblin’ on.” He turned to Minnie Maude. “It ain’t nothin’. Folk put out all kinds o’ things. Never know why, an’ it don’t do ter ask.”
    â€œA golden box?” Minnie Maude said in amazement. “ ’Oo’d put out summink like that?”
    â€œNobody,” Jimmy agreed. “It were jus’ Tommy talkin’ like a fool. Prob’ly an old piece o’ brass, like as not, or even painted wood, or summink.”
    â€œMebbe that’s why they killed Uncle Alf an’ took the cart?” Minnie Maude was sitting clutching her porcelain teacup, her eyes wide with fear. “An’ Charlie.”
    â€œDon’ be daft!” Jimmy said wearily. “If they put out summink by mistake, then they’d jus’ go an’ask fer it back. Mebbe give ’im a couple o’ bob fer it, not go off killin’ people.”
    â€œBut they did kill ’im,” Minnie Maude pointed out, sniffing and letting out her breath in a long sigh. “ ’E’s dead.”
    â€œI know,” Jimmy admitted. “An’ I’m real sorry