Dodger (36 page)

‘We're all fine here, Eli,' said Charley, as he went outside to speak to the coming mob. ‘A faulty shotgun, that's all, but nobody got hurt. Rose and the babes are safe.'

‘Hetty at the Roundhead says ye've had visitors,' said the man. Our three pairs of muddy boots was stood outside the door in a row and I could see through the glass that he was straining to see in. ‘An African prince or summat?'

‘Just friends from London,' said Charley with a nervous chuckle. ‘Nothing to worry on. Thanks for coming down though.' He headed out of our earshot towards the other men to say more of the same and so we was left stood in the hall with his Rose. She beheld the three of us with horror and looked as though she would be ready to pick up the shotgun and start beating the three of us. I smiled at her, gave a friendly wave towards the girl and then tried to break the awkward silence.

‘You're a sweet one,' I said, motioning towards the elder child. ‘What's your name?'

‘She's called Nancy,' her mother said.

‘Is she?' I said, taken aback by this. ‘Well, she's a love. It's a very cosy little home this, Mrs Bates.' I looked around the hall. A lucky horseshoe hung from the wall and there was a picture of an old man in a field atop a large mare. ‘That your father, is it?'

‘How d'you know that?' she asked.

‘Nice woman at the inn said you'd inherited the farm. So I thought tha—'

‘Listen, Mr Whatever-you-said,' she interrupted, ‘I don't care
what that gossipy cow has told ye. I don't care for three strange men creeping up to our house at this hour unannounced. You say you knew my husband from his London days? Well, from what he's told me of his upbringing that can only count against you. So why don't we all just keep quiet until Charles gets back. That is unless you want to tell me about this reward you mentioned.'

‘Reward?' Georgie asked me. ‘What reward's that?'

‘The reward for the jewel,' I said, and pointed at the shut door what led into the room with all the Christmas decorations, ‘what I hope is hidden in plain sight through there. How about we all go through and I'll show you?'

Rose nodded and so I opened the door and walked over to the tree. There, dangling from a string tied to one of the top branches, was one of the three smiling Indian brothers. It was identical to mine and I unhooked it from the tree and listened for a rattle.

‘There's something inside,' I said to Warrigal with such excitement it was as though St Nicholas had placed it in there himself. ‘I need to open it,' I said to Rose. ‘Has Charley got anything what can cut through wood?'

‘'Course he has,' she answered with no grace at all as she sat down in a rocking chair with the baby still in her arms. ‘This is a farm.'

Just then the front door slammed and Charley was heard putting Dodger away before coming in to join us. ‘They've gone,' he told us as he entered the room. ‘Now where was we? Georgie! Jack!' He flung open his arms and gave us the big welcome I had been expecting before he'd taken out his gun and set his dog on us. ‘I thought I'd never see you boys again!' After we had embraced most warm and remarked upon how much we had all changed Charley turned to his unsmiling wife. ‘Have you all done introducing yourselves then?'

‘I know that they're from that school for thieves you've spoken of.' Rose sniffed as she rocked the baby back to sleep and stroked the hair of the little girl stood next to her. ‘That's enough to know.'

‘No, but Rose,' Charley was quick to explain, ‘these two ain't bad. They was the victims of that corrupting place, not the villains. Jack was my best friend back in those days. The Artful Dodger. I've told you about him often.' He turned to me and nudged my shoulder. ‘I named the dog after you.'

‘So I heard,' I replied with genuine gratitude.

‘And Georgie …' He walked over to the where the big lump stood and threw his arm over his shoulder, ‘Georgie here was the sweetest of the lot. He's as gentle as a kitten, old Georgie.' I nodded my head most fervent at this description of Georgie's character and decided that now was not the best time to mention Georgie was on the run for burglary and helping to bury a murder victim. Instead I changed the subject by turning to the aborigine in the room.

‘And don't you let my pal upset you, little Nancy.' The child had been staring at Warrigal in horrid fascination ever since he had entered the house. ‘He's as kind as Black Peter from the fairy tales. And besides –' I turned to Charley, keen to bring matters back around to business – ‘he and I will be leaving for London first thing tomorrow. Once we've taken a peek inside this.' I rattled the doll again and asked if they would like to hear a story.

I was telling the truth about getting Charley a reward should the Jakkapoor stone be discovered inside his doll. Evershed was rich and would pay big money if he was to hear the jewel was in the possession of some honest farmer whose place was in debt. Charley deserved it, should he turn out to be Fagin's favourite and, as he would never have even known about the jewel without
me, I considered that it was a fair deal for us to go halves. We all sat around the fire and, holding the doll in my hands, I proceeded to tell everyone there as much as they needed to know about why I was back in England and what I hoped to gain from the jewel if found. By the time I got to the part where the famous Jakkapoor stone could be hidden inside this very doll, Charley and his wife was desperate for me to just get it open and see the stone.

‘Get a saw, Charley, quick!' his wife cried, but he was already on his feet and dashing outside to the stables. ‘My word,' she said to herself while he was gone, linking her fingers as if in prayer. ‘If this man will pay us what you think he will then it will solve all our money problems. We can pay off all of father's bad debts.' She looked at me in wonder. ‘Oh, Mr Dawkins,' she said, ‘if you're right then your visit here tonight will have been like that of an angel. I'm sorry for being so ill-mannered earlier.'

‘That's all right,' I waved it off. ‘Don't thank me yet.'

Charley burst back in with a long metal saw and told me to hold the doll over a wooden table. I did so, careful to ensure that whatever was rattling inside would not be damaged, and he began sawing in the middle while I held the head and Georgie grabbed the legs. He was most excitable as he began cutting it in half, even giggling as sawdust covered the table. Finally he had cut into it enough so I told him to stop and took it in both hands to let whatever was rattling just fall out on the table. Charley, Georgie and Warrigal leant in close as I snapped it in half while Rose stood behind with Nancy and the baby and tried to see over our shoulders.

‘Well,' she asked in great anticipation, ‘is it there?'

She must have seen her answer written in our collective shoulders as they all drooped in disappointment and we went quiet. Charley picked up the pebble, what was just like the one what had been in mine, and showed it to her.

‘This don't look like no priceless Indian jewel,' he sighed, and handed it to me. I could feel the same wave of anger and despair coming over me that I had felt in that Greenwich hotel room when I had learnt that I was not Fagin's favourite after all. I was as hurt for Charley as I had been for myself. But that pain was outweighed by the frustration that I now had even less of a clue as to where the real stone was. I wanted to kick something and wished that Dodger was in the room.

Rose Bates, with her baby still in one arm, grabbed hold of Nancy's hand with the other and looked at me most fierce as she made for the door. ‘I'm going to bed, Charley,' she huffed to her husband. ‘I hope Mr Dawkins and his friends enjoy their stay in the Roundhead tonight. Tell 'em not to bother saying goodbye before they leave for London tomorrow.' And she slammed the door behind her. I turned to Charley, who was looking most downhearted and held the two halves of the doll he had kept as a souvenir for all these years in each hand.

‘Sorry about getting your hopes up, Charley,' I said as he and Georgie took a chair each and sat down. I took the piano stool and Warrigal just leant against the wall by the window looking out at the night sky, his face away from us. ‘It's still good to see you though.'

Charley gave me a sad smile and rocked in the chair that his wife had just got out of. ‘You've been here for less than half an hour, Artful,' he said. ‘And in that time I've been scared out of my wits, driven to violence, told I was going to be rich and then been made heartbroken that I'm not.' He laughed as he looked at the grinning head of the doll. ‘You ain't changed all that much.'

‘Eddie Inderwick,' said Georgie, slurping up the rest of his coffee and then looking at the three of us with great surety. ‘He
musta
been Fagin's favourite.'

It was the following morning and the four of us was having a late breakfast in the Roundhead before Warrigal and I was set to return to London. We was sat around the same small table we had eaten at the night before and, with Warrigal as silent as ever, the conversation soon turned to the whereabouts of the Jakkapoor stone. We had not much time to spare before the wagoner what Charley had arranged to take us to Peterborough would be arriving at the inn so this was a farewell meal and my last chance to ask if either of my two childhood friends could help me in my quest for treasure. Georgie, it had been agreed, was to stay here under a false name and work with Charley as a farmhand for at least a year until the hot search for Jem's accomplice had cooled. Charley, as I had always known he would, was prepared to harbour him for friendship's sake although he made it clear to Georgie that he would not tolerate no thievery while he was under his care. Charley had become a proper flat in the past six years, that much was clear. This farmer business, moving up north to where his relatives lived, working
for the Harringtons as a farmer's drudge, ingratiating himself with the family, marrying the eldest daughter, inheriting the farm – this was not just a dodge for him. As amazing as it seemed, he really was a proper farmer, not just pretending to be one for his own low purposes like what I had done. He had risen before the cocks had crowed that morning to tend to the cattle and had given orders to his farmhands to carry on without him before meeting us for this final meal. The barmaid at the Roundhead, Hetty, had been unwilling to serve us that morning when we came down from our chambers and had asked us to leave before we caused more trouble. Then, after Charley had strolled in and given her his reassurance that we was all right, she began busying herself around our table making herself most helpful and flashing her smiles at the handsome young farmer. The whole village afforded him a respect that I had never before seen a boy of such poor upbringing receive without having to live off crime for it.

Charley, with his good lady wife not around to snort disapproving fire at us for building up castles in the air, became most animated when talking about the whole business of the hidden jewel and George Shatillion. He told us that Rose had been reading him some of an old Shatillion ghost story called
The Lady of the Loch
earlier that year and he was laughing in disbelief at how Fagin had been intimate friends with the author of characters like Old Man McWorter and Wee Dougie Boyd. Now that the disappointment of the previous night had passed we had all begun to turn our minds back to who we thought had been given the third doll. The mysterious story had captured the imagination of both Charley and Georgie and they was full of ideas as to where the jewel may have ended up.

‘Fagin was fond of Eddie, true.' I nodded. ‘But if he's an opium fiend like you reckon then it's more than likely he's sold
everything he owns to pay for it. He won't have it now. Who else might have been given the doll?'

‘What about the Mullins twins?' asked Georgie as Hetty came to remove our plates.

‘Don't bother with Alan Mullins,' said Charley after thanking her and telling her to put it all on his bill. ‘Fagin hated him on account of his face. But Davey Mullins he liked. He preferred his look.'

‘They was identical.'

‘Not in the eyes they wasn't. You looked in Alan's eyes and you could tell what he was – a scheming thief. There was no hiding his villainy and Fagin despised him for it. But Davey had the eyes of an innocent choirboy and that Fagin could work with. That was the thing about the old Jew.' The four of us rose as through the window Charley saw the wagoner rolling towards the inn. ‘He had two sorts of boys he liked. There was the likes of you, the clever thieves, the earners, the ones what never got caught because they was naturals at it. And then there was the innocents.'

‘What innocents?'

‘The ones it was up to him to corrupt. Those was his real favourites.'

We put on our hats and coats, waved farewell to Hetty, who herself only waved back to Charley, and went outside to meet our transport. The wagoner was the same one what had refused to take Warrigal the day before, but this time Charley told him to stop complaining and do as he was bid. He sniffed and said he wanted to unload some stale, musty-smelling hay into another wagon first and replace it with fresher stacks from a nearby barn. Warrigal and Georgie went with him to hurry things along while I stayed back to talk to Charley.

‘Innocents?' I asked, annoyed by his last remarks. ‘Who you talkin' about? None of us was innocent.'

Charley lowered his voice so nobody in the village, the village what now held him in such high esteem, could overhear him speaking of his tainted childhood. ‘I was innocent,' he said, ‘when I first got there. I'd never had a dishonest thought until I went to live in that place. That's what Fagin liked about me though. He liked corrupting boys and making us like you; that was his fun. I never minded at the time – I was getting fed and clothed and making new friends. But now I'm a father myself, well …' His voice tailed off. And even though his mouth was shut I could tell his teeth was grinding away within. ‘I'll just say,' he said at last, ‘that my kinchins won't be playing the snatching game at my house on Christmas day.'