The Cockney Sparrow Read Online Free Page A

not the time for explanations – they would come later. ‘I’m going to get a fire going, and then I’ll fetch water from the pump and make you a nice cup of tea. You rest there, ducks.’
    It took her some time to drag the sack of coal from the snow-filled area into the room and to get a fire going in the small grate. It took even longer to negotiate the slippery streets to get to the communal pump to fetch water. By the time she had made a pot of tea, cut slices from the loaf and spread them with dripping, making sure that Jack had most of the nourishing brown jelly at the bottom of the pot, he had recovered enough to tell her what had happened.
    ‘He come bursting in,’ he said, in between sips of hot, sweet tea, ‘without a by your leave, saying that Hardiman had sent him.’ He paused, shaking angry tears from his eyes. ‘And all I could do was sit here and try to fend the bugger off with me bare hands.’
    With anger and hatred for Hardiman raging in her breast, Clemency bit into a chunk of bread,allowing Jack time to compose himself. If only she were a man, she would show Hardiman and his bully boys what was what.
    Jack wiped his eyes on his sleeve and took a shuddering breath. ‘It were a warning, Clemmie. He never meant to kill me; it were a threat of what was to come if I didn’t do what he wanted.’
    ‘But what did he want?’
    ‘Hardiman is dangerous, Clemmie. He sees you taking Ma’s place in his dirty dealings, and he wants me to persuade you to go with him. You got to get away from here, girl. You ain’t safe and I’m only half a man. I can’t protect you.’
    ‘I won’t have it.’ Clemency jumped to her feet, dropping her bread on the floor and ignoring the rat that popped out of a hole in the wall to scurry across the floor, seize the food and carry it off in the blink of an eye. ‘I’d rather die than sell me body to dirty, stinking men like Hardiman. I’m going to get us all out of this hell-hole if it’s the last thing I do.’ She retrieved the bundle of clothes that she had dropped near the doorway and began stripping off her ragged garments.
    ‘Clemmie, for God’s sake, what are you going to do?’ Jack’s voice rose in alarm.
    Used as she was to living in the confines of one cramped room, Clemency was not shy about undressing in front of her brother. Shivering in her thin cotton shift, she reached for the white blouse and put it on, fastening the tiny buttonswith trembling fingers. ‘I don’t know yet, but I’m going to put a stop to Hardiman’s game.’ She stepped into the skirt and wrapped it around her slim waist. ‘How do I look?’
    ‘Fine. Promise me you won’t do nothing stupid, Clemmie.’
    ‘I wish I had a mirror,’ Clemency said, peering into the glass windowpanes in an attempt to view her reflection. ‘I got to do something with my hair.’ She went down on her hands and knees, feeling under the thin flock mattress that was Edith’s sleeping place. ‘I seen her hiding her bits and pieces somewhere.’ Her fingers closed around a cotton pouch. ‘Found it.’ She sat back on her haunches and tipped the contents into her lap. In the dim light of the tallow candle, she went through the items one by one. Her mother’s treasured possessions were pathetically few: a string of glass beads, a black velvet ribbon and three tortoiseshell combs. ‘I can remember her wearing these. She was so pretty in them days.’ There was a lump in Clemency’s throat as she remembered her mother before drink and prostitution had left her with a broken spirit and faded beauty.
    ‘Clemmie, please.’ Jack’s voice cracked with emotion. ‘Don’t go that way.’
    A hoarse laugh ripped from her throat. ‘I’ll go me own way, not that of bloody Hardiman. I’ll see the bugger burn in hell fire afore I do what hewants.’ She twisted her long, flame-red tresses into a knot on top of her head, fixing them in place with the combs. Getting to her feet, Clemency turned to Jack.