Fair Fight by Anna Freeman

Author:Anna Freeman [Freeman, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Orion Publishing Group
Published: 2014-06-15T23:00:00+00:00

Mr Dryer left the next day, or perhaps that same night, before Tom and I laid eyes on him to see how his revels had left him. We’d a few days peace then; Tom and I thought him ashamed to show his mug and laughed over it. As the days went on and became a week and then two, we kept laughing, but I knew Tom was feared Mr Dryer never would come back. I knew the old goat would be back at the convent, for when had he ever stayed away? I expected him well enough. What I didn’t expect was what came.

Tom and I were coming up from the cellar, he with his hand – fairly well healed up – under my elbow, though I was near mended again myself. When we crossed the last step Tom gave a huff of surprise. Jacky stood pressed against the wall like a clammy grey serpent, as though he meant to leap out at us. His hair was as tangled as a beggar-boy’s.

‘Oh my days,’ I said, ‘look at this creeping thing.’

I always did say something like that when I came across Jacky. I liked him to know that I saw him and he only made himself a fool.

‘I came to find you,’ Jacky said.

It was always queer to hear him speak because he did it so rarely. His voice was quite usual, just like any other boy’s; you’d have expected him to hiss.

‘You found us,’ I said. ‘What prize do you get by it?’

‘There’s a man outside on a cart says to fetch Tom,’ Jacky said, as though he was telling a juicy piece of gossip.

‘Right then,’ Tom said. ‘Let’s go and see a man, shall we?’

There was a dogcart upon the street, just a one-horse rattler of the kind you might see anywhere. The sight that had brought Jacky out to gawp wasn’t the cart, but the man driving the thing, all done up in livery with shiny buttons and a silver wig. This was novelty indeed; we had plenty of nobby footmen call, but they came as cullies and would leave off their livery so as their employers wouldn’t discover where they took their leisure hours.

‘Look at the shine on that coat,’ the new lad said, seeing me come to the door. He moved aside so that I could stand next to him.

‘We’ll have you dressed up like that, if Tom makes enough wins,’ I said.

‘I’d not throw it back at you,’ he replied.

Tom went out there bold as anything, as though liveried footmen called for him every day. I stayed in the doorway, next to the new lad, feeling as much of a creeping sly-boots as Jacky. Jacky stood behind me and peeked out through the gap left between me and the bully.

The footman looked devilish queer up there in his shiny coat, on the dusty seat. I could see he fancied himself pious as a saint. Tom greeted the cull as friendly as he did everyone,

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