Authors: C. S. Quinn
Seven days after the Great Fire
Charlie surveyed the hoards of sailors crammed in the Bucket of Blood.
The King had called back almost all his navy to help rebuild the city. And with their usual brothels and taverns burned, Covent Garden was stuffed to the rafters with sailors.
Among the jolly tars Charlie noticed a familiar face. Bitey was throwing back a leather tankard of beer, wiping his filthy beard. As Charlie moved closer, a muscular weight slammed against his knees. He lurched, then righted himself on a nearby table.
Bitey looked up, grinning. His pig, Juniper, began chomping on Charlie’s breeches.
‘You survived the fire then?’ said Charlie, pushing her large head away with difficulty. ‘And found your pig?’
‘Survived and flourished,’ said Bitey proudly. ‘My room in Covent Garden is worth its weight in gold. I have three refugees paying me rent whilst they rebuild.’
Bitey nodded to a gaming table where coins and cards flew.
‘I’m not the only one doing well,’ he added. ‘That widow has made a small fortune from those sailors. Poor lads never saw a Covent Garden hustle before.’
Charlie glanced over. The female card player was dressed in plain black, a modest white cap hiding part of her face. Charlie thought there was something familiar about the curve of her mouth. Then he grinned.
‘Beware of the widow,’ said Charlie, as he approached the table, ‘she’s more practised at cards than she looks.’
From the far end of the table Lily recognised Charlie and beamed. The sailors she’d been card sharping glared at her, realising the pay they’d just lost was no accident.
‘What brings you to the Bucket of Blood?’ asked Charlie.
‘You.’ She gave him a disarming smile. ‘And boatloads of landed sailors,’ she added.
Lily stood. Seeing she was hemmed in by people, she climbed up on the table. The sailors dived for their cards and money as her black skirts swept across. Charlie put up his hands and lifted her down.
‘I thought you might have gone back to the country,’ he said, keeping her close. ‘City in ruins and all that.’
‘No,’ said Lily, stepping back a little. She was still holding her winning hand of cards and she tapped them on his chest. ‘Once you’ve been in London a time, it gets under your skin. And this part didn’t burn.’ She gestured to the dark walls of the Bucket, lined with its usual malodorous clientele. ‘Still enough of the city left to make a living.’
‘Why did you leave?’ asked Charlie, remembering the last time he’d seen her. They’d spent a few happy days together in Covent Garden. Then Lily had vanished without explanation. He’d assumed she was on some urgent spying mission for Amesbury.
‘Important business,’ she shrugged enigmatically, her dark eyes on his.
Charlie raised his eyebrows.
‘Amesbury wanted to know about Blackstone,’ she admitted. ‘I told him what I knew.’
‘Which was?’
‘Blackstone was one of the old plotters,’ she said. ‘But now fire has burned away that festering part. The King wants to rebuild a clean new city,’ she added. ‘That’s the talk in court.’
‘He’s too late,’ smiled Charlie. ‘Londoners are already putting their city back together, more or less the same way as they left it.’ He smiled at the thought of the narrow alleys and haphazard roads being stoically reassembled. No notion of city planning would deter a Londoner from the serious business of making money.
‘There was one more reason I came back,’ said Lily.
‘Oh?’
‘The paper,’ she said, ‘from your dead father.’
‘What about it?’ Charlie could feel Tobias Oakley’s letter lodged deep in his leather coat.
‘Did you manage to read it yet?’ She was turning the playing cards in her hand.
He grinned. After all this time she was suddenly so easy to read.
Lily caught his expression and put the hand of cards on the table behind her.
‘I have a job for you,’ she said, ‘involving treasure. Buried treasure.’
‘There’s no such thing,’ said Charlie evenly.
‘I’m not hiring you for your opinion. But I might offer you one quarter of the findings.’ Her dark eyes flashed excitedly.
‘You don’t find a good thief taker,’ said Charlie, ‘he finds you. What makes you think I’m interested in your assignation?’
She slipped off the ruby ring she’d pickpocketed from the aristocrat in Fetter Lane.
‘Remember this?’
‘Of course I do,’ grinned Charlie. ‘You stole it the first time I saw you. Then you burned a house down. That kind of thing stays in the memory.’
‘You knew,’ said Lily slowly. ‘You knew from the first, what this ring was.’
‘Maybe,’ admitted Charlie. ‘I had my suspicions. But I was preoccupied with other things. You know,’ he added, ‘I’m employed to take the ring back.’
‘So take it.’ She handed it over, keeping her eyes on his.
Charlie took the ring slowly, not breaking the gaze. His heart was pounding as he glanced down at the ruby.
‘Worthless,’ he said, handing it back.
Lily was smiling.
‘So you’ll help me?’ she said, turning it carefully in her palm. ‘Another adventure?’ She raised the ring. Sunlight sparkled in the red depths. ‘I know you know what this ring is,’ she added.
‘Do I?’ His hands were on her waist. ‘Maybe I’ll take some convincing.’
‘I would warn you it could be dangerous work,’ said Lily.
‘I wouldn’t expect anything less,’ he replied.
‘Then shall we go, Charlie Tuesday, and make our fortunes?’
Lily slipped the ring on her finger, then put her little hand in his. And together they walked out into the din of Covent Garden, back towards the smouldering remains of their city.
Truth is stranger than fiction. Which of these events really happened?
One of the following facts is false. Do you know which? Go to
www.thethieftaker.com/firecatcher
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ire Catcher
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About the Author
Photo © Richard Bolls
C.S. Quinn is the bestselling author of
The Thief Taker
. Prior to writing fiction she was a travel and lifestyle journalist for
The Times
, the
Guardian
and the
Mirror
, alongside many magazines. In her early academic career, Quinn’s background in historic research won prestigious postgraduate funding from the British Arts Council. Quinn pooled these resources, combining historical research with first-hand experiences in far-flung places to create Charlie Tuesday’s London.