Page 2 of Starlight Night (The St. Clairs 5.50)

“Just do your bit today,” Jem said. “Don’t let on that anything’s different, especially when we finish up.”

Lucy nodded, her faith in the small boy complete. Jem was brave where she wasn’t. She would look to Jem to take care of her in the future. Boy coming along would also help. Their small family could stay together.

The narrow London streets teemed with people and vehicles. They made their way around street sellers whose carts blocked large portions of the sidewalks. Carriages and wagons competed with space as hackney cab drivers cut around them, often dangerously. Hundreds of pedestrians filled the pavement, darting in and out, dashing out into the road when vehicles came to a standstill. Lucy gripped Jem’s hand tightly since the previous evening’s snow had begun to melt, causing the sidewalks to become slippery. At least no fog hung in the air this afternoon. She didn’t like fog. It scared her.

As they walked, people shouted, “Mind! Look ahead!” as they tried to avoid the oncoming traffic. She stepped over everything from broken glass to piles of ashes that had been tossed out onto the sidewalks and streets. Driskell always stressed that they watch where they go, citing a hurt child was a worthless child if he couldn’t earn his keep.

They reached their destination, a corner where heavy traffic piled up and pedestrians were left and right. Jem had already peeled away from them a block earlier, dropping back so as not to be seen with her or Boy. Lucy watched as a nattily-dressed man bumped into another, begging his pardon, all the while lifting the man’s pocketbook from him. She’d learned by watching and seen that the best pickpockets were often the best dressed. People didn’t suspect someone dressed as finely as they were to rob them. Lucy made eye contact with the thief and he winked at her before continuing merrily upon his way.

She looked around and saw the traffic backed up excessively, thanks to several wagons which had stopped to deliver goods at nearby shops. Knowing it was time to ply her trade, Lucy glanced across the street and received Driskell’s instructions through a few gestures he made. She released Boy’s hand and allowed sadness to wash over her. Her eyes began to sting with unshed tears and then she let them spill down her cheeks. She began crying as she turned in a circle.

“Mama! Mama! Where are you?”

She continued shouting for her nonexistent, missing parent and a well-dressed man carrying a beautiful ebony and ivory cane stopped in front of her.

Kneeling, he asked, “What’s wrong, little girl? Have you lost your mother?”

Lucy allowed her bottom lip to thrust out as Driskell had taught her and nodded. “She was here and then she was gone. I had hold of her skirts and then we got separated.”

As she spoke, she watched Jem pass by and double back, barely brushing against the man. Knowing his deft fingers had already accomplished the mission, she cried out, “Mama! There is she is!” and let joy fill her face.

Lucy quickly darted away from the man and blended into the crowd, easily losing the mark because of her height. She sensed Boy following and turned the corner, where she and her brothers regrouped. As always, she was aware of Driskell close by, watching them from a distance.

They wandered the streets for several hours, plying their trade, and then met up with Driskell, who held out a sack. Jem dumped in the afternoon’s haul but Lucy noticed a slight bulge and knew he kept a pocketbook back from Driskell. She glanced at her feet, not wishing to give away what she knew.

It didn’t matter. She heard the danger in Driskell’s tone as he asked, “Is that it?”

“That’s all I got. Better than yesterday and we’ve only been at it a few hours,” Jem said with confidence. “With the opera tonight, we’ll make plenty today.”

“You’re holding back, boy,” Driskell said, his words icy.

Lucy saw him reach for Jem, who darted away. He began running as Driskell gave chase. The older man slipped on the ice and came crashing to the ground, curses pouring from his lips. Jem kept running. She couldn’t help but smile in victory, knowing Jem would get away.

Then the unthinkable happened.

Lucy saw it unfold as if in slow motion. The hansom cab turning the corner too fast. The cart being pushed by its seller. Jem running, looking over his shoulder, not watching where he ran. Then he hit an icy patch and his feet flew out from under him. He collided with the cart, the wares toppling to the ground, scattering apples and pears everywhere. The cab plowing into it.

And Jem screaming.

She tried to race to Jem’s side but fingers tightened around her arm. She glanced and saw Boy holding her back, shaking his head sadly as the horse whinnied and reared, trampling her brother. Lucy broke away from Boy and hurried to Jem, passing Driskell who stood slowly, brushing himself off. She reached the accident and heard an eerie keening.

It came from Jem.

Their gazes met, his eyes filled with agony, blood bubbling from his lips.

“Run,” he croaked and then his eyes glazed over.

Lucy screamed shrilly as she stood. She began running, not caring what direction she went. She saw Boy take off, running left as she went right. She continued moving, an ache swelling inside her.

Jem was dead.

They would never escape. She would be a pickpocket and then do whatever Becky and the other girls did.

No. She wouldn’t. She owed it to Jem to get away. Lucy stopped in her tracks, looking wildly around her. She no longer saw Boy and hoped he had gotten far away. She did, however, see Driskell running toward her, murder in his eyes. She refused to let him catch her. She would never go back to his house. She would rather die begging on the streets than remain with him and his wife, becoming what they made her.

With that, Lucy took off running again. She ran and ran and ran, darting between people. Under carts. Through alleys. She ran until her lungs burned and her legs ached and it felt as if her tears had frozen on her cheeks.

And then Lucy ran some more.

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