The Man in Black by Lynn Shepherd

Author:Lynn Shepherd
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hera
Published: 2022-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

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Feeling more than a little foolish, he offers his arm to Sarah and bows to the couple. The man shakes the girl’s hand in farewell; more, it seems, as a discreet means of passing her a coin than for reasons of politeness. As he and Sarah walk back towards Park Lane, Charles sees the young woman standing watching them for some minutes, before her companion touches her gently on the arm and they turn away.

“Gawd, did you ever see the like?” says Sarah gaily, biting the sovereign then rubbing it against her bare thigh. “Fell on me feet there, eh?” Charles frowns; it’s not so very different from what he himself is thinking, but putting it into such coarse words seems something akin to a profanity.

“She was very kind to you,” he says tersely.

“’Course she was. Makes no difference to ’er.”

“Do you want to go back to McCarthy’s? Or to that other place she mentioned?”

“Cripplegate—Christ no! ’Ave you seen the place? Tried it out when I first came to Lunnon. Terrible bloody dump. But I ain’t goin’ back to McCarthy’s neither. Some ’orrible old tooler wanted some for free, and then kicked off when I told ’im he could pay up or ’ook it. And then I was just settin’ meself up for the night on that bench when some bastard nicked me coat. Christ, it was cold!”

Charles looks sideways at her, but his sympathy stalls when he realises the young woman’s handkerchief is tucked into the neck of the girl’s shirt. And, more to the point, there’s a small grubby hand digging round in the pocket of the coat he has—perhaps unwisely—left wrapped around her. He hauls her round to face him and drags the coat, none too gently, from her shoulders and puts it back on.

Sarah laughs. “Don’t worry, mister—I ain’t robbed yer! And I didn’t rob ’er, neither,” she adds quickly, seeing his face. “She gave this to me, cross me ’eart.” She holds out the handkerchief in one hand and sets it fluttering in the breeze. “Nice bit a cloth, though—I know a few fogle-hunters’d give me a good few bob for this.”

Charles tries to snatch it from her but she’s too quick—suspiciously quick, in fact, and he catches hold of her wrist with one hand, and checks through his pockets again with the other. Only then does he let her go, and they continue, rather less comfortably, on their way.

“You don’t ’ave to come wiv me,” says the girl sulkily. “I’m all right on me own.”

“I said I would, so I will. Where do you want to go?”

Sarah shrugs. “I’ll find somewheres. Always ’ave before.”

Charles sighs. “I think I know somewhere you can stay for a day or so. If”—this with a glance at her shoes—“you’re capable of walking a mile or so.”

For a few shillings he can probably persuade Lizzie to put her up, and for a few shillings more ask her to keep an eye out for the girl for a while.

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