The Lights of London (12 page)

Kitty pulled off her jacket and folded it gently under Tibs’s head. ‘You’ve been so kind to me, Tibs, and look how I’ve repaid you. If only there was something I could do.’

Tibs’s expression changed, sort of sharpened. ‘Come to think of it, there is,’ she said slowly, levering herself up painfully on to her elbows. ‘But I only want you to do it if you really mean it.

‘Whatever it is, just say. And I promise I won’t let you down.’

‘Good, ’cos whether you sing like a crow, you and me, my girl, are going on the boards as a double act.’

Kitty sprang away from her. ‘No. I’m not singing.’

‘Yes you are. You promised. And I don’t reckon you’re the sort what tells lies.’ Tibs took a shallow, painful breath. ‘But I’ll tell you what, Kit, whatever else we sing it definitely ain’t gonna be “Two Lovely Black Eyes”.’

Kitty hung her head. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, sniffing back her tears, ‘but I can’t. Not that.’

Tibs grabbed her arm. ‘Look, Kit, this is the chance I’ve been waiting for. And chances like this don’t very often come along for the likes of me. If there’s anything I can do to get off the game and away from that cowson then I’m gonna do it.’

Kitty turned her head. ‘Please, Tibs, don’t ask me to do this. Anything else. Just tell me.’

‘There isn’t anything else. This is it. And if it means that I’m gonna have to make you feel guilty and grateful then I’m sorry, Kit, but that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.’

With that, Tibs closed her eyes and moaned softly.

Kitty leaned against the wall and slid down until she was sitting on the ground next to Tibs. ‘I can’t.’

Tibs opened her eyes slowly and sighed resignedly. ‘Stop your snivelling, Kit, there ain’t no point getting yourself all worked up.’ She hesitated, then said, ‘Tell you what, there is something else you can do for me.’

‘What? Anything.’

Tibs leaned heavily on Kitty’s arm and, with a great effort, struggled to her feet. ‘Just get me down Rosemary Lane and safely back to the Dog.’ She clutched her sides and looked into Kitty’s eyes. ‘That’s not too much to ask of a friend, is it, girl?’

Tibs made sure that this time she had her arm firmly linked through Kitty’s. There was no chance she’d let her try to get away again. The bloke at the Dog had been very clear about what he’d wanted – and what he’d be prepared to pay good money for – a double act, and if that’s what he wanted, that’s what he’d get, even if she had to lie to Kitty to get her there.

Big as she was, she’d be no match for Tibs, now she’d set her mind to it.

Tibs winced with pain as she hobbled along, making sure Kitty saw her, and added a pitiful little moan just for good measure. ‘How do I look?’ she asked pathetically, her voice coming in breathy, sad little rasps, her carefully hooded eyes a picture of pained innocence. ‘All right, am I? Will I do, d’you think?’

‘You look lovely.’

Tibs sighed dramatically. ‘Really I’d like to have done more than just have a wash. To give a good impression, like. But I suppose I should just be grateful that Albert never hit me in the moosh.’ She flashed a surreptitious glance at Kit, to see if she was laying it on a bit too thick, and figured she could go a bit further. ‘I’d be in trouble then all right. I mean, who’d wanna see me with a busted lip?’ She gave a shuddering little whimper and said, ‘You look lovely and all by the way, Kit. Just the job.’

Just the job
? Kitty looked at her suspiciously. ‘What does it matter how I look?’

‘It never hurts to look pretty.’ Tibs’s voice became brisker, more business-like, and her pace quickened so that Kitty had almost to break into a trot to keep up with her as she tugged her along the grease-slicked cobbles.

‘And like I said, you could be really smashing if you fixed up your hair a bit. If you made yourself look more, you know, townified, like. It wouldn’t take much.’ She chanced another snatched, sidelong glance. ‘I reckon I could really make something of you, you know. All it takes is a bit of powder and paint. Tell you what, let me loose on you for five minutes and you wouldn’t know yourself.’

Appealing as the idea of not knowing herself might have been to Kitty, in her present circumstances she wasn’t in the least interested in any sort of magical transformations. Well, not if they were merely physical. What would be the point of that? What she needed was a transformation of a far more miraculous kind. The kind that just didn’t happen. She needed a change of luck.

‘So, what d’you think?’ asked Tibs. ‘Can I see what I can do with you?’

‘I haven’t much interest in that sort of thing,’ Kitty replied flatly.

A little thing like someone’s lack of interest couldn’t deter Tibs. Her agony temporarily forgotten, she pulled Kitty to an abrupt halt and spun her round to face her. ‘Here,’ she said, reaching up and pinching Kitty’s cheeks with hard little nips. ‘Let’s see what we can do for now.’ She stood back, with her head cocked on one side, and studied Kitty through narrowed eyes, assessing her efforts. ‘Look at you! You’re a proper picture.’

She shoved Kitty towards the high brick wall, where a glass-panelled door was set, engraved with the
legend: Pilkington’s Spice Warehouse, Manager’s Office. Then she brushed Kit’s thick dark hair off her face, fluffing and patting at it as though she was sorting out a feather bolster flattened by a restless sleeper.

‘Go on, have a look at yourself, Kit. With a little know-how I’ve got them cheeks of your’n glowing as pink as a new baby’s bum. Just imagine what I’d be able to do with a bit of slap.’ She smiled triumphantly, her hands almost circling her tiny, corseted waist. ‘Who’d be able to guess you was a turnip bonce now, eh, girl? You’ll be able to pass for a real …’

For a brief moment Kitty had actually been carried along by her new-found friend’s enthusiasm and had peered into the deeply etched glass, trying to get a glimpse of the supposed transformation. But she was immediately alerted by Tibs’s ominous words. She turned slowly and looked at Tibs. ‘Why should I want to pass for anything other than what I am, a simple country girl?’

Tibs held up her hands in apologetic surrender. ‘Sorry, love, take no notice of me. That’s me all over, ain’t it? Rabbiting on and on. Never know when to hold me trap, that’s my trouble. I talk so much old rubbish at times I don’t make a bit of sense. Now, I promise I’ll keep me gob shut all the rest of the way. How about that?’

Kitty stared hard at Tibs, trying to understand. There was something going on and she wasn’t sure that if she found out what it was she’d like it very much. ‘I don’t know that I should go any further. I told you. I have to be somewhere.’

‘It ain’t far and I do need your help, Kit. I was hurt, remember?’ With that, Tibs put on a brave little smile, shrugged casually as though she could dismiss any other concerns with a simple lift of her shoulders, linked
her arm back through Kitty’s and led her along, inwardly reprimanding herself for nearly having blown the gaff. She really would keep her mouth shut for a bit, just turn and smile every few yards, to reassure Kitty that everything was just fine, and then … Well, Tibs was sure she knew what would happen then, but didn’t want to risk even thinking about it.

Jack Fisher whined wretchedly as Archie did his best to rouse him.

‘I’m sorry, boss, I’ve left you as long as I could, but the drayman’s downstairs. He won’t deal with me. Says there’s money owing.’

Under his maimed arm Archie had wedged a wet towel, which he now held out to Fisher. ‘Try wiping this over your face. You see, everything’ll look a sight better once you’ve freshened up a bit.’

Jack swung his legs out from under his rumpled blankets and sat on the edge of the bed. He took the towel and rubbed it round his neck. He said nothing, but knew in his heart that he needed a sight more than being freshened up a bit to make things look better.

What Jack Fisher needed was a bloody miracle.

Tibs had done her best to keep quiet, but she had no choice about breaking her silence when, without warning, she yanked Kitty across the street and somehow managed to walk – smack! – right into a man who was passing by in the other direction. ‘I’m so sorry, sir,’ she breathed, fluttering about him as though she had caused him great damage – although, from the expression on the man’s face, it seemed perfectly clear that he really didn’t mind a pretty girl like Tibs bumping into him any time she felt like it. ‘That was so clumsy of me …’ Her words trailed off and she held her side, closing her
eyes tight and leaning heavily against the wall.

‘Not at all, my dear,’ he replied with a lift of his top hat. ‘Not at all. But are you in some sort of pain? Have I caused you an injury?’

Tibs smiled bravely. ‘Nothing to worry yourself about, sir.’

He frowned with concern. ‘Maybe you should seek medical attention?’

‘That costs, sir,’ she whispered, dipping her chin as though ashamed that such words had even passed her rosebud lips.

The man harrumphed and looked embarrassed. ‘Of course, of course.’ He reached into his trouser pocket and produced a handful of silver. Picking out two half crowns, he held them out to her.

‘What must you think of me?’ asked Tibs, an appalled look clouding her little heart-shaped face. ‘I can’t take money from you, sir!’

‘Of course you can.’

She lowered her chin further still and put out her hand. ‘Well, thank you kindly, sir. That’s a very generous gesture, if I might say so.’

‘Not at all,’ he said again and began to go on his way, his eyes still fixed on her.

He should have looked where he was going.

‘Ow!’ This time his collision was far more unpleasant. Instead of hitting soft, feminine flesh, he had bashed into a wrought-iron lamp-post.

‘Aw, careful, sir, you’ll do yourself a damage!’ Tibs gasped in a tiny girly voice, as she ran up to him and brushed at his elegant black topcoat, straightening him up and adding considerably to his confusion. ‘Are you all right, do you think?’

‘Never better,’ spluttered the man through gritted teeth, not wanting to show his pain to this gorgeous
little creature who was staring up at him, her face a picture of deep compassion that made her more desirable than ever. He wasn’t used to such concern, not from his wife, anyway. ‘Never better.’

‘That’s a relief, I’m sure,’ she said, then inclined her head, dropped a neat bob of a curtsey and smiled coyly up through her lashes.

As the man walked off – more carefully this time, but with an infinitely redder face – Tibs held out her hand to Kitty. On her palm lay the two coins and a silver pocket watch.

‘Will you just look at that!’ she spat, dangling the timepiece by its chain. ‘There’s him, all done up like a sodding dog’s dinner and it’s not even bloody gold.’

‘Tibs!’

‘What?’

‘Did you steal that gentleman’s watch?’

‘Yeah.’

‘How could you?’

‘Easy. And he can afford it.’

‘But why?’

‘Don’t go feeling sorry for the likes of him, Kit. If he was such an innocent he wouldn’t be around these parts. This ain’t no time or place for proper gentlemen.’

‘He might have business …’

‘You’re right there and I know exactly what sort. He’s been up to no good last night, you mark my words.’ She flicked the two half-crown coins high above her head, watching them as they turned over in the morning sunshine. Snatching them from the air, she hid them away in her pocket. ‘Tell you what,’ she went on, holding the watch to her ear, ‘I’d wager that whole dollar what he just give me that he’s been out gambling, whoring, smoking that stuff down the opium dens all night, and now he’s gonna waltz out of here in a cab and
bugger off back where he come from to his nice polite wife as though butter wouldn’t melt. With a story as long as your arm about what he’s been up to and who he’s been chatting with down
at his gentlemen’s club
.’

‘It’s still not right. And say someone catches you? How can you risk it? How can you be so brazen?’

‘Brazen?’ Tibs shrugged dismissively, weighing the watch in her hand. If she was lucky, which she certainly didn’t feel, what with her ribs and now this piece of junk, Uncle might be persuaded to part with a few shillings. But certainly no more. Bugger him. ‘Is that what I am?’

Kitty considered. ‘More brave I suppose. I don’t know how you could do it.

‘That was nothing to write home about,’ she said, slipping the watch somewhere deep into her layers of clothing with the money. ‘If that’s what you call brave then you ain’t seen very much, girl.’ She steered Kitty forward and winked saucily. ‘Even a scaredy cat like you could’ve pulled that stroke. With the right training, of course.’

‘No. Not me.

‘Yes, you. I’ll have you being brave as a lion in no time.’

They walked along for a bit before Kitty finally said, ‘Would you mind if I asked you something?’

‘Be my guest,’ Tibs smiled happily, this was going well, she hadn’t mentioned going off on her own for a good ten minutes.

‘After he gave you the money, why did you take his watch?’

‘Because I don’t like being treated bad, that’s why.’

‘But he didn’t do anything.’ Kitty shook her head, not understanding. ‘He knocked into you, that’s all. It was a mistake. And it’s not his fault your ribs hurt.’

Tibs rolled her eyes. This one was as green as a cabbage. ‘It’s nothing to do with me ribs,’ she said, shepherding Kit round a pile of bulging hessian sacks.

‘No?’

‘No. I met him last night, a bit before I met up with you. Off Rosemary Lane. Did a bit o’ business with him.’ She paused, waiting to see if she needed to spell it out any clearer. Surprisingly, she didn’t. ‘Well, he never paid me, did he? The bastard. Bugger all, that’s what I got off him for me trouble. And if my luck keeps going the way it seems to be he probably threw me in a dose of the other and all.’

She took out her snuff, prepared a good pinch and sneezed violently. Grasping her ribs – the snuff was a stupid mistake – she spat angrily on the ground. ‘Maybe that’ll teach him not to mess with the brides from the East End. Let him go with the whores from Hyde Park, or them down the Haymarket, if he wants to do business with idiots.’