The Cockney Sparrow Read Online Free Page B

‘How do I look now? Be honest.’
    Jack swallowed hard and his lips moved soundlessly. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to answer.
    ‘Beautiful, Clemmie. You look so fine. Please don’t do nothing rash.’
    She hooked up her shawl and did a twirl. ‘I’m going out to conquer the world, Jack. And I’ll make Hardiman pay for what he’s done to you and Ma. You see if I don’t.’
    The fire was burning brightly in the hearth, and Jack had enough food in his belly to keep him going for the rest of the day. Clemency left him sitting close to the comforting blaze, having extracted a promise from him that he would not attempt to go out into the snow. In return, she gave him her word that she would not do anything foolish. However, once outside in the bitter cold of a January day, with the future looking equally bleak, Clemency knew that this was one pledge to her beloved brother that she might not be able to keep. With little idea or plan in mind, she made her way to Cheapside, where she sauntered along the pavements looking for a likely victim who might have a full purse or a gold watch. But the weather was her worstenemy, and there were few people out of doors braving the slippery pavements and winter chill. Those who did venture abroad were huddled beneath greatcoats, striding along with their hands in their pockets. The ladies travelled in hackney cabs, and were assisted across the treacherous pavements to the door of their destination by burly cabbies, men who could spot a dipper at a hundred yards or more.
    Clemency was getting desperate. Her clothes were decent, but without a bonnet or cape she was poorly dressed for such inclement weather, and this made her stand out in the crowd. She stopped for a moment inside the doorway of a jeweller’s shop, stamping her feet and wrapping her arms about her chest in an effort to get warm. If she did not pick a pocket soon, there would be no supper tonight and she would go home to a helpless cripple, and a drunken mother who had spent her immoral earnings on jigger gin. She would leave herself open to Hardiman and his evil intentions.
    Then she saw him – a well-dressed young man wearing a city suit beneath a topcoat that was left casually undone, as if he was impervious to the cold. On his head he wore a bowler hat, tipped at a rakish angle, and he carried a silver-headed cane. He was studying something that had caught his eye in the jeweller’s window. She sidled out of the doorway and stood beside him.He did not appear to have noticed her and she slid her hand into his jacket pocket. Her fingers caressed a leather pouch, bulging with coins, and her heart began to race. With her gaze fixed on his absorbed profile, she curled her fingers around the pouch and began to lift it slowly from its warm resting place. Suddenly, and without even turning his head, he caught her by the wrist. She tried to break free but he held her in an iron grip.
    ‘Let me go, mister. I was just trying to get me hand warm. A girl could freeze to death out here.’
    He looked at her for the first time and his eyes gleamed like blue diamonds. ‘Amateur,’ he said in a cultured drawl.
    Panic clutched Clemency’s heart in an icy fist. ‘No, honest, guv. I weren’t up to no good. I tells you I was cold and you look like a …’
    ‘Nice, kind man? Believe me, young woman, I am not.’ He dragged her hand from his pocket. ‘And you are not an accomplished thief.’
    ‘I am so.’ She could not let that remark pass unchallenged. ‘Why, I’ve been on the dip since I were a nipper of seven.’ She stopped, clamping her free hand to her lips. She had done it now – condemned herself out of her own mouth.
    ‘Have you now? I suppose you might suit my purpose, with a bit of training.’ He looked her up, with a glimmer of interest lighting his eyes.‘Yes, you might be exactly what I’m looking for.’
    Clemency raised her chin defiantly, even though she was inwardly quaking. ‘I dunno what