Mulberry Lane Babies (The Mulberry Lane Series) by Rosie Clarke

Author:Rosie Clarke [Clarke, Rosie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781786693006
Publisher: Head of Zeus
Published: 2018-05-31T22:00:00+00:00

*

It was Friday night and Tom had been paid. Mr Jackson had given him his wage packet himself, and put an extra half a crown in it for him.

‘You’re a decent lad, Tom,’ he’d said. ‘I’m very p-pleased with you and I w-want to m-make sure you’re s-satisfied workin’ ’ere.’

‘I love it, sir,’ Tom said respectfully. ‘It’s even better than I thought it would be. I’m glad you’re satisfied with me.’

‘More than,’ Mr Jackson said. ‘Y-You can go at half-past six t-tonight if you like.’

‘I’ve got some jobs in the stockroom, sir. I want to stack everythin’ so I use it in date. I’ll go at seven as usual, but perhaps another Friday if I want to go somewhere special, I’ll leave at half-six.’

‘All right,’ Mr Jackson said and his eyes gleamed. ‘It’s a p-pity a f-few more aren’t like you, T-Tom. There would be less p-poverty about if they were all willin’ ter work like y-you.’

Tom glowed with pride. He tucked his wage packet into his inner jacket pocket and then thought better of it. It was a week since Knocker had grabbed him and threatened him and he didn’t want to lose the money he’d just been paid. He slipped it into his apron pocket and hung it up in the shop. If his assailant roughed him up, there was a chance he’d take whatever Tom was carrying.

He worked until just after seven. The job in the stockroom could have waited, but he wanted to go home at the same time as he had the previous week, because if their trap was to work, Knocker had to walk into it.

He walked across the road whistling, just as he had a week earlier, trying not to listen for sounds behind him or to glance back. A large hand went over his mouth as he entered the passageway between his house and the next, and a strong arm pressed against his throat, cutting off his air.

‘Have yer got what I asked fer?’ a voice growled in his ear. Smelling the beer on his breath and the odour of stale sweat, he knew it was Knocker who had grabbed him. Tom shook his head and his assailant turned him round, keeping an arm pressed hard across his chest and shoulder as he glared down at him. ‘You’d better have it somewhere or you’ll be sorry… I warned yer about what I’d do if yer tried ter cheat me.’

Tom could feel pain in his injured shoulder; it hurt like hell, but he didn’t cry out.

‘You should know – it isn’t in the house. You tore the place apart – ruined my mother’s things,’ Tom said, looking at him accusingly. ‘What did yer want to do that for?’

‘It’s the least I’ll do if yer don’t come up with what I want…’

‘I ain’t got it…’

‘You little runt! I’ll thrash yer until yer beg fer mercy.’

‘I can’t give yer what I ain’t got – they weren’t yours or Sam’s…’ Tom gasped in horror as he let the information slip.

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