The Betrayal of Thomas True by A. J. West

Author:A. J. West
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Orenda Books
Published: 2024-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

‘I worry for you, Thomas,’ said Abigail. ‘These mysterious friends of yours, they seem rather dangerous.’

It had been barely two hours since his adventure at the cathedral, yet here Thomas was, dipping candles in the shop.

‘London is a dangerous place, Cousin,’ he said. ‘You told me so yourself when I arrived. I merely slipped, that’s all. But what a thing to say. How many men can claim to have swung their feet so high above the ground? I must be the closest thing London has to an angel.’

Abigail smiled. ‘You are an angel, you have made us all so happy. Not like those common brutes tearing our home to bits.’ She looked over at the gap where the wall used to be, for now there was nothing between the room and the outside world but a few timber scantlings. The smaller of the two men, Mister Sylva, was on his leather swing, his powerful arms controlling the rope. Abigail watched him closely. ‘They spend every day dangling against our home like monkeys. Look at that one now.’ She glanced up to make sure the workman could hear her then turned her back to him with a huff. ‘I don’t know where the ugly one is; he hardly ever seems to do any work. I heard them arguing about it, you know. Like a pair of little boys they were.’

Thomas bit his tongue. He knew exactly where Mister Griffin was at that very moment: still searching the perimeter of the cathedral to find traces of the Rat. It had been a wrench for Thomas to leave his new friend, for his every nerve tingled for more adventure, yet Mister Griffin had ordered him away with such a ferocious look, he had done as he was told. What a pity, he had rather enjoyed their time together. He turned back to the donkey and tilted a row of candles carefully into the molten wax. I would gladly fall off that gallery a hundred times, he thought to himself with a smile, if Mister Griffin would put his arms around me again.

Abigail caught his eye and giggled. ‘What are you making doe eyes at now, sweet Cousin? You’re as bad as Father, treating those candles better than me.’

Thomas gave her a shy smile and fetched three boxes of ‘citrus spring’ pillar candles decorated with daisies. They required careful embellishment, Thomas and Abigail working in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Once they were decorated with birds and flowers, Thomas ran them down to the shop, where he was immediately pounced upon by a gang of baying customers.

He returned covered in scratches, his peruke on the side of his head. ‘Your father demands more,’ he said, hanging a rack of freshly dipped candles from hooks on the ceiling. Abigail did not respond.

‘Cousin, did you hear me?’

He sat beside her at the table and waited for her to speak. Eventually, she put her sculpting needle down and met his eye, wiping away tears. ‘I would never survive if I lost you,’ she said.

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