The Lost Jewels - Kirsty Manning Page 0,52

The children were quieter on the return journey, tired and sunburned.

‘What a coincidence to see your friend at the Observatory,’ Miss Barnes remarked.

‘He’s not my friend,’ Essie replied. ‘He’s the foreman on the site where my brother works. They’re demolishing buildings over Cheapside way.’

‘Well, he seemed happy enough to see you today,’ the teacher teased as she gave Essie a nudge with her shoulder.

As the ferry dipped with the tide, and the dome of the Observatory glinted in the late sun, Essie tipped her head back and enjoyed the last rays. For the first time, she felt excited about what the next week might hold.

Chapter 16

Essie spent the following weeks moving between the factory and home with a lightness she’d never felt before. Mr Lawrence had made good on his word and delivered the boys some money at the Golden Fleece.

Unfortunately, Freddie hadn’t been able to stop Danny from shouting the bar three rounds before he escaped with his share. He came home and sheepishly presented Essie with the remainder. She had gone straight to Mr Morton and paid the outstanding amount for the girls’ school, before visiting the fishmonger and Mr Jones at the general store to settle their debts. She had just enough left over for food for the next few months, if she was careful and hid the money from Ma.

Freddie told Essie he’d been asked to do another job with Danny and the lads outside London, and he had not been home since Friday last. Father McGuire delighted in telling her that he’d heard a handful of navvies had gone to Gravesend for a lark. Essie tried to ignore the flush she could feel spreading to her cheeks. She knew the priest lumped Freddie in with other ne’er-do-well navvies in their neighbourhood and assumed he was a drunkard like their ma. Essie couldn’t deny Freddie enjoyed the odd knock-off with the lads, but he always handed over most of his salary every week to Essie to run the household. If there was a little extra missing sometimes, it was carelessness. Or a wishful punt. There was not a mean bone in Freddie’s skinny body.

The priest had made a point of speaking with Essie after his weekly home visit with her ma. Over the top of his glasses, Father McGuire snapped, ‘I wondered where those funds might have come from. I did hear, Miss Murphy, that all your family’s debts at the school have been paid.’ His eyes had lingered a little too long at her breasts as he spoke, as if to imply that the source of their windfall might perhaps lie there. ‘My confession box is always open in the afternoons …’

Essie was furious, but of course she couldn’t tell him where the money had actually come from. She endured Father McGuire’s hints in silence; she had nothing to confess to him—though she promised herself this would be the week she confessed to Ma that she’d been stepping out with Edward—as he now insisted she call him.

For the last few weeks she had not been working an extra shift in the factory, as she’d claimed. Instead, she and Edward visited the moving pictures, where they saw The French Spy and she permitted Edward to hold her hand. They spent afternoons lounging on striped deckchairs in Hyde Park eating ice creams or warm muffins that broke apart and spilled runny fruit into her lap.

Occasionally, Edward would tip his hat at an acquaintance in the street, or usher her past an elegant couple in furs he’d exchanged greetings with outside a teahouse. These were the kind of women in French heels that marched at the Monument—perhaps she and Gertie could join them. It was just a matter of time before Edward introduced her to his circle, his family, but every time she thought to ask, the words stuck in her throat.

They roamed the Victoria & Albert Museum, and took tea and scones in the darkest corner of the grand hall filled with chandeliers. Essie wished she could smuggle some treats home for the girls in her handkerchief. Once, they’d visited the Natural History Museum and Edward had walked her past giant roughs of sapphires, emeralds and diamonds, peering closely at each one without saying a word. She thought of the football of dirt, studded with jewels, that Danny had held above his head. So many had made their way to Stony Jack. Had others also held on to a keepsake of this magic?

She wondered who was missing