Daughter Dalloway by Daughter Dalloway (epub)

Author:Daughter Dalloway (epub)
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-02-15T21:31:56+00:00

Chapter 19

Octavia

The redheaded boy spoke first.

“What’s she doing here?” he asked, pointing at Octavia. It was Tom, one of the boys she’d seen when she’d first met Redvers, when she’d tripped on his rag ball. The one Redvers said was his best friend but talked to like an enemy.

Octavia stood behind the Purvises’ home with Red and George and watched as Tom and two other boys approached. She thought they looked a bit dodgy in a group like that. Like a pack of dogs she’d seen in Stroud, all homeless but healthy, plump, eating well because they’d decided to band together. To scavenge as a cluster.

Night had fallen, but all the Westminster homes around them were lit like Christmas trees, each window a bulb of golden light. Octavia eyed the lawn next door; she hoped that cranky gardener, Mr. Garrick, didn’t reemerge from the house. How suspicious he was. Was it the way she looked? That must be it. She was so out of place in this wealthy London neighborhood. So out of place. And now it was dark; she felt her chances of finding Septimus diminishing by the second.

Redvers leaned close to Octavia, whispered in her ear, “Just follow my lead.”

“What do you mean, follow your—”

“You ever seen a rozzer suspect a girl?” Redvers asked Tom. Tom didn’t respond; he just stood there sizing up Octavia. He looked bested.

“Guess I haven’t seen a bird in cuffs, come to think of it.”

“That’s what I thought,” Redvers said. “We’ll back slang it, and she’ll keep an eye on the front.”

Tom continued his close study of Octavia; she could feel his eyes on every part of her. “You ever done this before?” he asked. He motioned toward the Purvises’ home. “How’s your whistlin’? Better if it sounds like a real bird, you know. Like this.” Tom pursed his lips and started to blow. The noise that came out didn’t sound like a bird. It didn’t even sound like a whistle. More like air escaping a tire.

“You call that a whistle?” Red asked.

“Why d’you think I’m the screws man?” Tom gave up on the whistling. He looked back to Octavia. “Go on, then. Let’s hear it. Your best bird whistle.”

“Why on earth do you want me to whistle?” Octavia asked. “And besides, I’m not very good at it anyway.”

“Red, you meater!” Tom threw his hands in the air. “You weren’t even man enough to tell her?”

“Never mind that, she’s workin’ for me, so bugger off,” Red said. “She’ll get part of my cut, not yours. And you sure we got the right place?”

Working for Red?

She wasn’t sure exactly what was happening, but she knew enough to know it wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all. And it was happening much too fast. One of the other boys, a short one with several unfortunate moles on his nose, stepped forward and dug in his pocket. He pulled out a folded paper and held it up for Red to see. He pounded a stubby finger at a block of text.

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