The Lost Jewels - Kirsty Manning Page 0,45

plant in their own barren plot.

The twins skipped ahead, swinging off lamp-posts and weaving between men in long coats wheeling barrows loaded with salt blocks. They pressed their foreheads against the lolly shop window and gaped at jars full of coloured sweets and toffees and the long plaits of liquorice that dangled from string near the ceiling. Essie wished she had a penny to buy her sisters a bag of aniseed balls or lemon sherbets.

‘One day I’ll buy you a bagful of each. You’ll have so much toffee you’ll be sick of it,’ said Gertie.

‘Not likely,’ scoffed Maggie.

‘Never!’ said Flora.

Essie’s heart sank. Perhaps she could stretch to an extra loaf this afternoon. The girls had walked without a word of complaint, despite splitting yesterday’s crusts before they set off. There was nothing else to offer them. Not even eggs.

As they moved up the street, the twins took turns counting down the house numbers.

‘Eleven.’

‘Nine.’

‘Seven,’ squealed Maggie as she hopped up and down pointing at the blue door, almost tripping over her boots.

Essie studied the name stencilled in neat letters above the front door:

G.F. Lawrence

Antiquarian

Underneath, swinging in the wind, was the strangest sight: a small Egyptian statue.

Gertie stared, transfixed.

Essie pulled her shawl tight about her shoulders and put her hand on Freddie’s arm to stop him from entering.

‘I thought you said his name was Stony Jack and that he was a pawnbroker?’

‘He is!’ said Freddie. ‘The lads at the Golden Fleece say he’s always good for a pint—’

‘—even if what we find in the muck is worth nothin’,’ said Danny.

‘We’ll see, won’t we?’ said Freddie, patting his coat pocket. ‘I reckon he’ll pay a pretty penny for what I have ’ere.’

Essie thought of the foreman whose green eyes matched the green gemstones in the hard clay ball. Edward Hepplestone. He’d called to the men to halt their work and keep the discovery in the air where he could see it, but by the time he’d climbed into the cellar, most of the navvies would have thrust their hands into the clay and debris and pulled a handful into their pockets, quickly secreting it in their drawers or boots as soon as they were able—just as Freddie had.

Danny and Freddie had somehow managed to hide a lump of dry clay the size of a football onsite, and they’d brought it home after work. Not straight home, of course. There’d been several rounds at the Golden Fleece on Thursday night. Freddie was careful with the drink … but who could blame him for having a beef and Guinness pie washed down with a couple of pints with his friends every now and again? It beat coming home to stale bread and a draughty bedroom.

She paused. Freddie and Danny would most likely lose their jobs—or go to gaol even—if anyone found out that they had pilfered some of the jewels. Essie had seen the notices in the papers about stealing from worksites around London. She’d unpeeled one from their kippers just days ago:

In the event of any goods or precious materials being retained by the finder, or sold or handed over to any other person or company, instead of being given to the police or London authorities, the person finding the same will render himself liable to prosecution.

Then again, Freddie said there were so many, who would miss just a few …

She thought of the necklaces so fine they looked like flowers threaded with gold. Coloured gemstones in green, blue and red pressed into the dirt when the treasure was discovered at Cheapside. Essie felt like she was squeezed into a too-tight coat she couldn’t undo. She didn’t like the idea of Freddie and Danny taking something that clearly didn’t belong to them. But she thought of Flora and Maggie coughing away. Flora’s hollow chest rubbed with camphor oil and wrapped in brown paper. Their pokey kitchen lined with dirt, broken crockery and rats that pounced from the fireplace. She thought of the unopened letters from Miss Barnes that Ma refused to read.

Then she thought of what she could do if only she had more money. Three meals a day. They might be able to move somewhere with a little more room—perhaps even with an indoor flushing lav. Ma could stop her spinning and her hands would heal. (And if Ma felt better, surely she’d give away the drink?) The girls could finish school. She glanced at Gertie, walking along with her notebook tucked under her arm. She didn’t go anywhere without it. She could