Dodger Page 0,7
could also be a furnace if there was a lot of gold to melt)?
But the girl was beautiful under her injuries, and he watched her as he turned the damp pack of stupid grubby cards over and over in his hands, staring at the girl whose face was a mass of bruises. The swines had really done her up good and proper, using her like a punchbag. He had given them some handy smacks with his crowbar, but that was not enough – by God, it was not enough! He would find them, he surely would, and see the bastards in lavender . . .
Dodger woke up on the floor in a semi-gloom illuminated by just one flickering candle, totally disorientated until he recognized his surroundings, which included Mrs Sharples in her chair, still snoring like a man trying to saw a pig in half. But more importantly there was the sound of a very small and trembling voice, saying, ‘May I have some water, if you please?’
This caused in Dodger a near panic, but there was a jug of water on the basin and he filled a glass. The girl took it from him very carefully, and motioned for a refill. Dodger glanced at Mrs Sharples, refilled the glass, handed it to her and whispered, ‘Please tell me your name.’
The girl croaked, rather than spoke, but it was a ladylike croak, such as might be made by a frog princess, and she said, ‘I must not tell anybody my name, but you are most kind, sir.’
Dodger was aflame. ‘Why were those coves beating you up, miss? Can you tell me their names?’
Once again there was the sorry voice. ‘I should not.’
‘Then may I hold your hand, miss, on this chilly night?’ It was, he thought, a Christian thing to do – or so he had heard. Slightly to his amazement, the girl did indeed reach out and take his hand. He clasped it and very carefully looked at the ring on her finger, and thought: a lot of gold here, and a crest; oh my word, a boy can get into trouble with a crest. A crest with eagles on it and foreign lingo. A ring that meant something, Charlie had said; a ring that somebody most certainly wouldn’t want to lose. And somehow those eagles looked rather vicious.
She noticed his interest. ‘He said he loved me . . . my husband. Then he let them beat me. But my mother always said that if anyone got to England, they would be free. Do not let them take me back, sir – I do not want to go.’
He leaned over and whispered, ‘Miss, I ain’t no sir, I’m Dodger.’
Sleepily, the girl said in what Dodger figured was a German accent, ‘Dodger? One who dodges, which is to say, moves about a lot? Thank you, Dodger. You are kind, and I am tired.’
Dodger just managed to catch the glass as she slumped back into the pillows.
1 Contrary to what he had said to Charlie, Dodger could read, having had some tuition from Solomon the watchmaker, his landlord, and the Jewish Chronicle – but it was never in anyone’s interest to tell anybody anything that they didn’t need to know.
CHAPTER 2
In which Dodger meets a dying man and a dying man meets his Lady; and Dodger becomes king of the toshers
AS THE BELLS tolled five o’clock, Mrs Sharples woke up, making a noise that could best be expressed as Blort! Her eyes filled with venom when they alighted on Dodger and subsequently scoured the room for indications of malfeasance.
‘All right, you young castle, you have had your nice warm sleep in a Christian bedroom, as promised – and, as I suspect, for the first time. Now just you get out of here, and mind! I shall be watching you like a fork until you’re out of the back door, you mark my words.’
Nasty and ungrateful oh those words were, and she was as good as them, marching him down the grubby back stairs and into the kitchen, where she flung open the door with such force that it bounced on its hinges and slammed itself shut again, much to the amusement of the cook, who had been watching the pantomime.
As the door hung there reproachfully, Dodger said, ‘You heard Mister Charlie, missus, he is a very important man, and he gave me a mission, and I have a mission so I reckon, and a missionary gets a bite of breakfast before