little sounds inside. I must have come by my talent naturally, for there was a certain sort of instinct in me, a feeling I had as I felt and listened to those tiny changes in pressure and sound.
Uncle Mick had eventually taught me how it all worked and urged me to use a paper and pen to chart out the differences on the dial. Then one day the lock gave way and the safe opened beneath my hand.
“It seems the trade runs in your blood, Ellie girl,” Uncle Mick had said with a gleam in his eye. I’d never felt prouder.
I think I knew, even as a child, that my uncle wasn’t exactly what you’d call a paragon of virtue. There’d been hints, conversations almost spoken in some sort of code between him and my cousins, Colm and Toby, that they were involved in something that they didn’t want others to know about.
But it wasn’t until I was perhaps twelve or thirteen that Uncle Mick had let me know the full scope of their activities. I hadn’t been shocked, as one might expect a proper young lady to be. Indeed, it was almost as though I had known all along, and I had been eager to join them in their work.
I supposed, if examined objectively, it might not be considered the ideal environment for a young, impressionable girl. But most orphans never had a better family nor a better home life. Despite the unconventionality of it all, I had never lacked for material things or for love and support.
It could be argued that Uncle Mick might have protected me from all of this, set me upon the straight and narrow. Nacy had suggested often enough that I should be sent to boarding school to learn to be a lady rather than following in their criminal footsteps. But Uncle Mick had always shook his head and said that he’d taken me in with the intention of making me as much a part of the family as his own children were. And safecracking was what this family did.
I smiled at the memories as I walked to the safe in the back corner. It was a Chubb safe from the Victorian era, black iron with brass trimmings. I ran my hand across the smooth top with as much affection as one might pet a favorite dog.
“Hello, Mr. Chubbs,” I said. From the first, I had taken to calling the safe by the name on the manufacturer’s plate on its door, and now I would never dream of greeting him with less respect than he deserved.
Then I sat down on the floor and began to work.
There is an art to safecracking, as there is to most things that are a mixture of talent and practiced skill, and I needed to fine-tune it before I went to work. Granted, this safe was familiar to me and not the most perplexing of a challenge, but I suppose a pianist might practice just as well on a pub instrument as on a Steinway. It’s the practice that enhances the skill, not the quality of the instrument.
And so Mr. Chubbs and I played our little tune again and again. It was nearly dusk by the time Nacy found me in the workshop.
“Scheming again, are you?” she asked, looking down at where I sat before the safe, an expression on her face that I recognized from when she’d caught the boys and me doing something we oughtn’t.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
She clicked her tongue. “Don’t try that innocent face with me. I know when something’s afoot. And it’s been a good while since you’ve been out here, spending time with your Mr. Chubbs.”
“But, Nacy…”
She held up a hand. “I won’t ask you what it is, Ellie. You know that I’ve never meddled in your uncle’s business. And you’re a grown woman now. If you choose that way of life, I’ll not try to stop you. But…” She paused, and I was surprised at the tears that glimmered suddenly in her eyes. As caring as she was, she had never been a woman given to emotion, and I could count on one hand the times I’d seen her cry.
“But please be careful,” she said at last. “I … I couldn’t bear to lose you all.”
“Oh, Nacy…” I stood up and reached out to embrace her. She held me tight, and for just a moment, enveloped in the scent of talc, rose water, and, faintly, baked goods, I felt that