SCUFF DID NOT HAVE any clear plan in mind when he bypassed the road toward school and turned in the direction of the river instead. He knew only that now the regular police had messed up the case of the Princess Mary, and got the wrong person almost killed, and still stuck in prison, and had given the whole thing back to Monk. He was left with having to sort out the problem—if he could!
It was warm already. The sun glittered bright and hard on the water, making him squint a little.
Of course there was no way Monk could keep the police’s mistakes concealed. He had to go back to the very beginning and untangle all the knots. How was he supposed to do that? It wasn’t just a matter of witnesses telling lies; it was people saying something over and over until they believed it, and then getting all angry and scared when someone suggested it wasn’t true.
Now it was too late, and nobody remembered what they’d really seen or done anyway, even if they wanted to tell the truth. People would make fun of them, laugh at them, and most likely never let them forget it. Who wanted that? Scuff had experienced it and it was horrible. Much easier to insist you were right, regardless of anything anyone else said. Just stick it out! Who could prove you wrong weeks afterward?
Better than being labeled a fool who didn’t know what was right in front of your own eyes!
He reached the steps. The tide was high and slapping over the concrete, making it slippery. He climbed onto the ferry carefully and paid for his passage across the river. He needed to be on the north bank, because the Princess Mary had gone down nearer to it, and, as far as he knew, most of the stops had been on that side. Then he walked steadily along the dockside downstream toward the Isle of Dogs.
He found one little urchin who was inquisitive, and probably hungry.
“Find anything good?” Scuff asked him casually.
The urchin sized him up, and did not know quite what to make of him. “Wot yer lookin’ fer, mister?”
“Mister!” Scuff felt instantly taller, and at the same time alienated. “Mister?” What did the boy think he was? Some kind of stranger here?
Use it. The child was being practical, surviving. Without thinking about it Scuff put his hand in his pocket and felt to see how much money he had. It was mostly pennies, but he also had a threepenny bit and two or three sixpences. Sixpence was too much to give anyone! But for a really good piece of information he might share a cup of tea and even a sticky bun.
He must be inventive, quickly.
“You got anything off the Princess Mary?”
The urchin looked at him as if he had crawled out of the mud. His small, dirt-stained face was a picture of disgust.
“Not for you, I in’t. Why? Wot’s it worth?”
Scuff changed tack instantly. “If you’d lost anyone on it you wouldn’t need to ask that,” he said tartly. “I’d get anything I could for me uncle Bert, but it would just hurt the more if it weren’t Aunt Lou’s at all, an’ he knew it.”
“Yer aunt Lou got drownded?” The urchin’s expression was unreadable. It could well have been his version of embarrassment.
Scuff did not hesitate. “Yeah. Why? You know people who fished stuff out o’ the river what might ’ave come from them?”
“I could see,” the urchin said more carefully.
“Like what?”
The boy gave a shrug. “Combs, pins, bits o’ cloth, but they in’t much. What’s it worth?”
“Help me find a few things, ask a few questions, an’ it’s worth a cup o’ tea and a sandwich,” Scuff answered, watching the child’s face. “Were you here?” he went on. “Did you see it blow up?”
The urchin considered, looked Scuff up and down, and made his decision. “No, but I can take you to someone ’oo were! But it’ll cost yer an ’ot meat pie.” He was pushing his luck, and they both knew it.
Scuff weighed his choices. His decision must be quick, or he would look weak. On the riverbank the weak did not survive.
“We’ll have a pie for lunch,” he gave his verdict. “You’ll get half of it. If what you find is any good, you can have a whole one, and pudding an’ custard for dessert.”
“Done,” the urchin said instantly.
“What’s your name?” Scuff asked him.
“Warren, but they call me Worm.”
“All right, Worm. Start being useful. And don’t think you can play me for a fool. When I was your size, I was on the river just like you are, so I know all about mudlarking.”
Worm looked at him with total disbelief.
Scuff glanced down at Worm’s feet. “You got better boots than I had,” Scuff observed. “You can’t be as daft as you’re acting.”
Worm shrugged. “I’m all right. C’mon then.”
THEY SPENT MOST OF the day searching for information about the imaginary Aunt Lou, and mementos that did not exist. But along the way Scuff began to learn the things he had wanted to know about what had changed recently: who was afraid of whom, who was richer, who owed money, who had found things and sold them, because they had information about where they’d fetch up that other people didn’t. He had names now, specific debts paid off, people who had gone to ground, even if not yet the reason why.
Scuff treated Worm to a jolly good pie for supper, and the pudding with custard.
Early the next morning they began again. Worm was now fully expecting to be well fed, and Scuff had been forced to borrow money from Hester. He had managed to avoid telling her what he needed it for, but he didn’t think that would last long.
By the middle of the day Scuff had stopped trying to base it all on Aunt Lou’s lost bracelet or pendant, and Worm knew perfectly well that they were trying to get information about the disaster itself.
“Yer reckon as it weren’t the feller as they’ve got in prison, then?” he said, skipping a couple of steps to keep up with Scuff’s longer strides.
“Yeah, I reckon not,” Scuff agreed, actually rather relieved it wasn’t the accused, even if he didn’t know how to explain it further. A good explanation eluded him; his mind was so burning with the truth.
Worm was quiet for several minutes as they climbed up a long row of steps and across the uneven planks of a wharf. Scuff did not look down at the tide through the missing slats, but he could hear it suck and squelch beneath them.
“Why’d you care?” Worm said at length as they went back up onto the stone dock again and passed a horse and cart standing patiently waiting to be loaded. Scuff wondered if horses were as bored as they looked. “ ’E were a bad one anyway. Even I know that.”
“I don’t care about ’is being a bad one,” Scuff said with deep conviction. “You shouldn’t ’ang someone for something as they didn’t do. ’Ow’d you take it if they done you for something you didn’t do?” The moment he had said it he wondered if perhaps it was a bad question.
“I’d be cross as hell,” Worm admitted. “Unless it were about right for summink I ’ad done? Mebbe!”
“An’ what if it wasn’t?”
“That in’t fair.” This time there was no doubt in Worm’s voice.
“And who gets to decide?” Scuff went on.
Worm thought about it for some time. “I guess it in’t right,” he conceded at length.
“And what else?” Scuff added. “What about the feller what did do it? He needs putting away.”
“ ’Anging?” Worm said thoughtfully. “Ye’re daft, you are. They’ll never get ’im now.”
Scuff could think of no suitable reply to that, not one that would impress this dirty, hungry, opinionated little urchin.
“I think I’m gonner be daft too,” Worm said at last, matching his step to Scuff’s. “Where are we goin’ ter next?”
“To find out how Wally Scammell got to pay off all his debts just after the Princess Mary went down.
“Ye’re not going ter Jacob’s Island?” Worm said anxiously, looking up at the sky, whose light was already fading.
Scuff was not happy about it either, but that was where Wally was.
“Wot about yer dinner?” Worm asked. “Won’t yer ma be cross if yer late?”
That was another very sobering thought—not that Hester would be angry with him, but that she would be afraid for him. He did not miss meals. Sometimes she cooked something he especially liked. He thought of the look on her face when she watched him eat. She would tell him he was eating too quickly—it was bad manners—but he could see how pleased she was to be looking after him.
Knowing that Hester cared for him raised a powerful—and very complicated—feeling in him. It was the best thing in his life to be loved, and yet it was also a fence around his freedom. There were things he could not do, and responsibilities.
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “It wouldn’t be good if she made my supper an’ it didn’t get ate. And she’d worry.”
The light went out of Worm’s face. “Then yer’d better go, eh?”
“I think I’d better send you to go tell ’er I’ve got a job to do, an’ I’ll be late,” Scuff replied. “I got enough money to get a pie. I’ll be fine. But …” He hesitated. Was this the right thing to do? Well, whether it was or not, he was going to do it. “You’d better ask her to give you summink to eat, as well. ’Cos I promised, an’ I’m not going to be able to keep it, like I said. I live at number four, in Paradise Place. Over the river. You know it?”
Worm shook his head.
“Useless little article! Go ask!” Scuff said. “Get the ferry over the river from Wapping to Greenwich Pier, then go up the hill and ask! You can remember Paradise, can’t you?”
Worm nodded, his eyes wide.
“Yer looking for Mrs. Monk. Can you remember that?”
“Like ’im wot’s in the River Police? Yer tryin’ ter get me locked up?”
“I’m trying to get Hester not to worry ’erself I’m drownded, an’ throw away my dinner!” Scuff snapped at him. He fished in his pocket and came out with a threepenny bit. “Give that to the ferryman and get yerself off, then!”
Worm took the coin, bit it automatically to make sure it wasn’t a wooden one, then turned tail and ran.
Scuff swallowed hard, wondering if he’d lost his wits. Then as Worm disappeared, he went resolutely toward Jacob’s Island, his hands clenched and his stomach sinking.
HESTER HEARD THE TAP on the door as she was staring out of the kitchen window at the gathering darkness. She was unable to concentrate because she was too anxious wondering where Scuff had got to.
She flung the door open and saw on the step a small, very thin, and very dirty child with a cap too large for him and trousers held up by string.
“This number four?” he asked, clearly frightened.
“Yes, it is. Can I help you?”
He took a deep breath. “Scuff sent me ter tell yer not ter throw away ’is dinner—’e’s got money for a pie, an’ ’e’ll be late.” It was out all in one breath.
“Thank you,” Hester said with a wave of relief. “You look cold.”
He pulled a face, and shrugged as if it were nothing.
“Tell me what else Scuff said,” she asked. “Perhaps you had better do it inside, if you don’t mind?”
“I don’ mind,” he agreed, stepping inside and following her down to the warm kitchen. He tried not to stare around, but he couldn’t help it. He had never seen a place like it before. It was warm and smelled of wonderful food. There were lots of pots and pans, shiny ones, and clean china. There was a jug with flowers in on a table.
“So Scuff is going to have a pie?” she asked as if to clarify it.
He nodded, his eyes wide.
“So he won’t be waiting for supper?” she went on.
He shook his head.
“It would be a shame to waste it. Would you eat it?” she asked, as if she doubted his answer.
He swallowed hard. “I don’t mind if I do …”
“Good. Then you’d better wash your hands and sit down.” She turned on the tap and ran water for him, and it was straight out of the tap into a bowl. She gave him a towel to dry his hands. Washing left a little mark around his skinny wrists, but it was good enough.
She served him fried potatoes and two fried eggs. Then she realized he probably did not know how to use a knife and fork, so she cut it up for him and gave him a spoon as well.
She did the same for herself and ate quite slowly, knowing he was watching and copying her very, very carefully.
“My name is Hester,” she said when they were both finished. “What’s yours?”
“Good. Would you like a piece of cake, Worm? And perhaps a cup of tea?”
He nodded, temporarily beyond speech.
“Then we’ll have that. And you can tell me exactly what you and Scuff have been doing.”
He froze.
“Oh, that’s quite all right,” she assured him. “He has been asking people questions, hasn’t he?”
Worm nodded.
“Very good. So have I. I shall tell you what I have done, and you will tell me what he has done.”
Worm nodded again and settled a little farther into his seat on the kitchen chair.
