on it. “Do I look like I have any money?” She gestures to her nightgown, with her favorite apron tied on top. The boy reddens up and looks away.
“Well, I can’t go back empty handed,” he mumbled. “Gotta have some story at least for why I lost all the veg. Can’t just admit I knocked it in the river, can I? Cook will kill me if the master doesn’t beat her to it.” He looks quite miserable. Even his feet quit their incessant dancing and he holds still morosely, staring at the river to his left as though willing his missing vegetables to bob to the dirty surface. It must be the River Thames and it looks like nothing so much as slow moving sludge, as thick as cake batter and dark as chocolate in places.
“Cook, eh?” Prue narrows her black eyes. “A good cook, is she?”
It’s the boy’s turn to snort. “Who? Gertie? She’s real good, mum, real good if you like the taste of coal!” He bursts out laughing and slaps his knee at his own joke.
“And why doesn’t your employer hire someone better for his meals then, eh?” She pressures. Ah, I’m beginning to comprehend her wheeling and dealing now.
“Like who?” The boy looks suspicious. This small talk was not solving his problem and his feet begin hopping again.
“Like this poor woman you ran down and accosted,” I cut in, adopting a strong British accent without even thinking. I join him in the feet dance in order to get my blood flowing and stay warm.
The boy widens his eyes. “You must be joking, miss. I can’t just bring her back to the house!”
“Why not? You practically injured this poor old woman and now you’re refusing her care and attention? Why, it’s the least you can do! I witnessed the whole thing and I’m sure there’s a policeman nearby who would be quite interested in the story. In fact, I’d wager that missing vegetables is the least of your criminal worries, young sir.” I feel a little bad for him, but the lies drip easily off my tongue and I am freezing and not going to let a chance of sitting by a fire somewhere pass by me without a fight.
The boy swallows visibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, as he weighs his options. “Right then, mum. Miss,” he bows my way. He even offers his arm gallantly to Prue.
“Oh, I don’t think so, young man,” I continue my stern voice. “I will personally accompany you, along with my father, to assure this unfortunate woman meets no other calamity at your hand.” I hold my head high and wish I had a long skirt to swish majestically or a parasol to rap him on the head with. It is difficult to assume the identity of a snobbish gentlewoman with bare feet and all the wrong clothes. My manner seems to have the desired effect however; the boy sighs but nods and we begin to walk together. Youth is no match for arrogant patronization no matter how confident the youth in question.
“Israel?” I whisper to Dad as we walk.
“Always go back to the beginning,” he replies. A Lost rule if there ever was one: if you get separated after traveling, continue checking in at the spot where you woke up. I picture Israel wandering the streets of London in his pajamas and have to stifle a giggle. Dad’s sleeping outfit is nondescript and doesn’t seem too out of place wherever we go: a goal that most Lost women try to emulate with their white nightgowns. His dark pants and white button down shirt are surprisingly timeless; although very unfinished they could seem as though he was simply interrupted while dressing and didn’t get to finish, thereby neglecting a coat, shoes, and hat. I groan when I think of my soiled and tattered nightgown back home…I have been in this century before and surely had coins and money of value sewn into the hem. What a comfort they would be to me now and the things they could buy: hot bread and butter, lodging, shoes.
As we walk, the sun continues to rise, the river continues to give off that cabbage-y smell I noticed before, and the city comes to life. People begin to emerge from their homes and businesses fling open their doors. I feel conspicuous in my cold feet and silly clothing, but other than a few odd looks, reminiscent of the corseted lady from earlier, I