Shadows Gray (24 page)

“Oh, my girls, come in, come in,” she whispers like a small child trying not to get caught.  “Shut the door.  How are you?  How are things out there?”

“Chilly and damp and too far away from you,” I say.

“Wonderful and glorious and so England-y!”  says Emme.  I roll my eyes at her exuberance.

I sit down on the bed and squeeze Prue’s hands.  “How are you?  Is Sir Halloway buying anything you’re selling, you old liar?”

Prue bats away the notion that anything less would be possible the same way I’ve seen her bat away flies from her food cart.  “Just a matter of time, girl.  I slipped something special into Gertie’s breakfast that she served the mister this morning so now I’m just waiting for it to take effect.”

“You poisoned Sir Halloway?” I can’t help myself; I gasp.

Prue glares at me.  “I ain’t stooping to murder.  I just made him a little sick is all.  ‘Sides, that woman’s cooking is awful enough on its own.  Probably kill him herself if I gave her enough time.  I’m just hurrying her termination along faster.”

“You’ve always had the imagination in this family, Prue,” Emme winks.  “That’s why you and I get along just fine.”

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to see you again, that’s for sure.  I suppose it’s nice that I am.  Seeing you, I mean.”  As far as emotional displays of vulnerability, that’s about as mushy as I’ve seen Prue in recent memory.

“Do you want me to braid your hair?” Emme asks and picks up the brush on the table by the bed.

“That’d be nice.  Sonnet, you can rub my feet, that’s a good girl.”  She settles herself comfortably and stretches out her feet.

“How do I always get stuck with the feet?” I complain.

“Because we’ve seen your hair styles,” Emme points out.  “Right now you look like a flock of eagles made a nest in your hair.”

“Hey, I just got here!  It’s not like I own a hairbrush at the moment, much less shampoo or a fancy little bonnet like yours.”  Emme’s bonnet is pink to match her dress and pinned at a flirty, saucy angle on her strawberry waves. “Besides, eagles don’t flock.”

“I haven’t been here any longer than you and I managed to make do and not look like I just crawled out of a grave.  Don’t glare at me; I’ll brush yours out next.”

“Oh, will you please?” I mutter. “Prue, I can’t massage properly if you keep being so ticklish!”

Like a group of giggling girls at a slumber party, the three of us pass away an hour or two, listening for steps on the landing – me, prepared to jump under the bed at a moment’s notice if Sir Halloway walks in on us – and when Emme and I take our leave, Prue’s hair is plaited around her head the way she likes it, mine is brushed into submission and pinned up like a proper Victorian lady’s would be, and my hands smell like feet.

********************

“Home again, home again?” asks Emme, cheerily as we wander back the way we came.

It has begun to drizzle rain again, causing humidity and curly hair once more and I bemoan my poor, smooth hairstyle which barely got a chance to live and thrive in this weather before it died an untimely and sudden death. 

“Home, street home,” I agree, and we pick up our pace.

********************

“I need to talk to you,” I tell Israel once we finally get back to our dingy little alley way.  He has brought us all two dried apple pies and for a while there is nothing but the sound of munching and happy bellies growling.  I report to everyone that Prue is well and fine.  Dad has been successful enough at a day of pick-pocketing to have a pocket full of shillings and a couple pound notes that he oddly enough, turns over to me.  Is this a step to temperance, I wonder? More likely; he just doesn’t want to be caught red handed.

The last thing I want to do after mine and Emme’s long walk is take another walk, but I want to talk to Is alone.  The shock of traveling has worn off for the most part and I need to let my mind go back to America and what happened the night before we left.  I need to know just how he knew where to find me and also if anyone had bothered to ask Luke where I might have gone.  Luke knew about the old house; he should have known that’s where I was.  Why wasn’t I found sooner?

Once we’re away from the others, I ask these questions.  Israel’s face is as guarded and unreadable as ever and he pauses before answering me.

“We did go to Luke’s shop that first day, but it was closed down.  I couldn’t find him; tried the coffee shop and Prue mentioned places she had seen him before but no luck.  Tried the next day and he was there but he said he hadn’t seen you.  He said you’d been trying to find Rose and he started suggesting places to look, but we’d searched them all.  We tried the soup kitchen, tried Penny, even went to her house, went and found Harry and Matthias.  At one point, he and I separated and he went driving like a bat out of hell.  Met up later at the house and that’s when he mentioned the abandoned house you two had went to on your date.”

“It wasn’t a date.  I don’t think.”  I object.

“Whatever,” he answers shortly.  “He was upset he hadn’t thought of it before and he was mad at himself.  He had walked all the way from his house to tell us because he said his truck had died.  I borrowed Gladys’ car and found the old house.  It was pretty easy to know which one since my car was sitting in front of it.  No one was there obviously; I checked the whole place, so I left and kept driving.  Eventually I saw you leaning against that tree like a ghost.”

“You were mad,” I interjected. “You were like an avenging angel or something.  I was hoping for hugs and you threw me in the car like a sack of potatoes.”

“I was mad? Of course I was mad!” Israel looked at me and glared and it was that night all over again.  “You keep running off searching for someone we don’t know is really there and you refuse to ask for help.  We slept all that first night without you, not even knowing you weren’t in your room.  We could have traveled without you and never even knew what happened.  Do you think your dad could handle that again, after Rose?”

“I know,” I say miserably. “I’m sorry.  I wasn’t thinking.  I just knew she was out there and I kept missing her and it was making me crazy.  I thought if I could just catch up to her and make her see…make her want to be with us…I didn’t know I’d get locked in that awful place.  I stayed awake so long, hoping you would do the same for me.”

“Well, we did.  Anyway, when we got back, you probably didn’t see him, but Dawes was there.  He didn’t say anything; just watched to make sure you were alright and then walked back into the night.”

“He must have felt bad for not thinking of the house sooner.  I wish I could have talked to him before we left,” I stop walking and sit down on the cobblestones to give my feet a rest.  The stolen boots are rubbing raw blisters on my heels and they sting.  I pull them off and wiggle my toes in relief. “Did you see the book?”

“What book?”

“On the old couch in that house.  And that line drawn in the dust, like someone had been there?” 

“No, I was a little busy looking for you or your dead body, whichever I found first,” he answers drily.

“Well, it was creepy.  I may have been wrong about Rose being there, but someone definitely was.”

“Someone who locked you in?”

“Yes. And then let me out. Which was even stranger.”

“You were deliriously tired,” Israel points out, but he doesn’t sound as though he believes what he’s suggesting anymore than I do.  “Maybe it was never locked?”

“It was locked,” I say firmly, standing again.  “And then it wasn’t.  And I was too upset and hurting to try to find the person.  I just wanted out of that house.  I didn’t realize I was walking the wrong way until later.  Then I just gave up.  I was almost asleep when you found me.”

“Well, we’ll most likely never know what happened.”

“I suppose you’re right.  And my chance to find my sister may be lost forever,” I am glum and my voice reflects that.  “Let’s change the subject.  What did you do today?  Have you any ideas for lodging?”

“Yes, but you aren’t going to like it.”  Israel starts walking again, back the way we came, towards our makeshift family.  I step back into my boots, not bothering to lace them up and run awkwardly to catch up. The heels of the too-big boots slap against the ground.

“What do you mean I won’t like it?  Whatever does that mean?”

“I met a young doctor.  He has his own practice not too far from here.  He treats the poorest and lowest, some of who don’t even pay.  It’s a bit of an underground thing really; not many know he’s there and that’s the only way he can keep it going, otherwise he’d be swamped with patients.  This district is abominable and rife with disease and crime.  He came from a wealthy enough family, but they cut him off when he married a Chinese woman.  That’s how I got him to trust me and offer me a position.”

I raise my eyebrows. “What?  I’m confused.”

“Well, besides my medical knowledge which he could put to use too.”

“Yes, besides that.”

Israel looks uncomfortable.  “Well, I had to appeal to his sympathies.  So I made it seem as though we had more in common than we actually do.  Besides being young doctors, I mean.”

“I don’t follow; you don’t come from a wealthy family and you aren’t married to a Chinese woman.”

“She doesn’t have to be Chinese; I’m already the ethnic minority here, remember?  She only has to be white in order for me to have that social difficulty in common with him.”

I stop walking.  “You didn’t?”

“I did. I saw my chance and I seized it.”

“Me?” I squeak. 

Chapter Twenty-Three

“You have got to be joking.” It’s the only thing I am capable of saying and I have repeated it three times in as many minutes.

Israel looks irritated.  “You’ve got a better idea then?”

“No.  But-“

“There’s just barely enough room in his little house for us.  This doctor, he’s really excited about some of the things I had to teach him, especially about germs.  He wants to know more.  Their house is small, but there’s a back room we can take.  Your dad can come too.”

“Sounds cozy.”

“Quit complaining.  Who knows how long we’ll be here?  It could be just a few weeks.”

“It could be years.”

“Well, then we can take it one day at a time; we can always figure out a better plan later on,” his voice is beginning to sound irritated.  “But we can’t just stay on the streets of London.  The place is filthy, winter is coming on fierce, and there are Bobbies all over the place.”  Bobbies being the police.

We have reached our little party again.  The fire burns brightly in our receptacle, Joe is practicing what looks like ninja moves in the firelight, and Bea and Dad are watching him, bemused. Emme is gone.

“Fine,” I blurt out. “If no one else figures out a better plan, we’ll go with yours.”

I cannot believe what I have gotten myself into.  Israel’s pretend wife.  My head spins.

“Where’s Emme?” I ask Bea.  She is dressed now in the garb of the period, a pea green coat that is buckled over a long brown dress.  Dad must have been busy today, I think.  We’re such a bunch of criminals it makes me sigh aloud.

“Out. Working,” Bea either looks embarrassed or worried, I’m not sure which it is.  Her mouth turns down in a neat little bow shape. “I asked her to come back tonight and stay with us but I don’t know if she will. She says she met some women who were going to take her to a…”  Bea’s voice trails off.  “Well, anyway, a place where she might be able to live and work both.”

“I think they call them houses of ill repute in this day and age,” I keep my voice light and teasing to candy coat my crass words. 

Her bow of a mouth turns back up a little.  “Well, it’s a start.  I’m trying to get her out of that work, but you know how Emme is.  Nobody tells her what to do.  She’s stubborn and independent.”

“What will you do here?” I ask.  I don’t know whether family members can stay in those places that Emme is thinking of, and I hate to think of Joe growing up in such an environment.

Bea waves her hand through the cold air.  “I can sew and that should be marketable.  There are factories if I can’t get on in a shop somewhere.  It just might take a little time is all.  I wish we’d arrived here in summer; the nights are too cold for Joe to be sleeping outside.” It’s worried she looks now without doubt.

“It is cold,” I agree.  “Nice that ladies these days wear all those glove and hats and things – keeps them warmer, I imagine.  Too bad we don’t have any of them.” I cup my hands and blow into them.  The heat from my breath warms them for about a nanosecond.

“Yes, we do look like paupers compared to some of the gentlewomen we’ve seen, don’t we?”  She looks down at her coat and fingers a tear in the fabric.

“Well, I miss my over-alls and my Budweiser cap.”

“No one else does,” teases Joe, cutting in on the conversation.

“Hey, now, you little monster!” I tickle him ruthlessly. “Naughty little children don’t give fashion advice.  Go finish your candy and rot your teeth; it’ll serve you right.” I push him off my lap and still wheezing from too much laughter, he leaves to join Israel.

Israel.  I feel butterflies in my stomach.  Am I mad to have agreed to such a crazy scheme?  Sonnet Rhode?  This whole idea is preposterous. What was I thinking?  I glance over at him.  He’s talking in hushed tones to the boys and to Dad.  I can tell he’s telling them of our plan.  His plan.  My plan, by default only.  I’d like to point this out but my lips seem glued shut for all of eternity.