Dodger of the Dials (15 page)

‘You’ve done that boy a good turn, Lily,’ I said as I took her hand. ‘
You’re
the Christian, I don’t care what your sister says.’ She gave me a small smile and squeezed my hand back. I raised hers to my lips and kissed it, glad that we was sharing a tender moment together after the chaos of two days before.

It had been a most distressing scene on that rainy night on which I had stolen a boy of not-yet-twelve from his family home and taken him back to my own crib like he was a sackful of burgled
booty. Lily had woken to see me standing at the foot of our bed with a drenched and shivering Scratcher and, once I had told her of the drastic action I had taken, she beheld me like I was some cruel goblin in a fairy story who went about stealing boys for my own amusement. But whatever the horror she may have felt when I started with the explanations, it was little when compared to that of poor Scratcher. Until then he had thought he was still going on another thrilling midnight adventure with his old friend the Artful and so had no suspicion of what was really happening until I spelt it out for him in front of Lily. He then burst into tears and wailed that he had not betrayed me to the Turpins and that he never would and please, Jack, don’t kill me, I’ll be good, tell him, Lily, please, please, please. All of that.

Anyway, I was quick to explain that I had no intention of killing him and that I had snatched him away from his home for the exact opposite intention. I told him to quieten down, as I did not want our landlady to hear all this fuss, and I took them both into the kitchen while I boiled a kettle and I tried to make them see how things stood. Billy Slade, I said as we waited for the boil, had discovered through his own investigations that the Turpins had been told about our theft of the necklace on that afternoon by a young boy named Paul Bradley, otherwise known as Scratcher. This Scratcher, Slade had revealed, had told about the rendezvous with Percival to a local Irish boy. As far as Slade was concerned, Scratcher was a loose-lipped liability and had no place in the new modern criminal empire what he was trying to build. And it was up to me to make an example of him. If I refused to do this very simple action then somebody else who worked for Slade would see to the matter themselves.

So this was why you need hiding, I said to Scratcher, and that way Slade would assume the deed was done and say no more upon
the affair. I then asked Scratcher if he could please stop snivelling as it was giving me a headache and not helping one bit. Lily was livid with me then and went over to cuddle him as he began to explain himself through snot and tears. He admitted that he had spoken of our criminal doings to a young Irish boy of his acquaintance but he had only been trying to boast of his association with me and had not known that this boy was himself connected to a family of robbers. This I was inclined to believe as Scratcher had not appeared to have benefitted from giving away such information if the poverty I had found him in was any indication. But this did not alter the fact that Billy Slade had now declared Scratcher to be an enemy of his burgeoning business empire and so his life was under threat regardless of what I believed. I asked Lily, who had known Slade as well as anyone during her time as one of his girls, whether or not she believed that the threat against Scratcher was real and she blew on her tea and considered it. Yes, she said, as she looked with sympathy upon the boy. We had better get Scratcher to somewhere safe at first light. Somewhere where Slade won’t be likely to come across him.

‘Your sister,’ I asked Lily as she rocked back and forth on the chair after removing her country boots, ‘what does she know? You didn’t mention Slade’s name, did you?’ I had fetched us both two glasses of hot whisky and I handed one to her. ‘Or mine?’

‘Don’t you worry,’ she said in her most sardonic voice, as she took a sip, ‘your secrets are safe. I told Lydia that Scratcher was a poor cockney chimney sweep what had grown too big for the task and that his family had started to brutalise him for his lack of earnings. That was enough for her to take pity on him.’

‘Good thinking,’ I said, relieved that all was settled. ‘How is he though? Happy in himself?’

‘Of course not, Jack,’ she sighed in exasperation. ‘He’s wrecked.
He’s scared beyond wits, missing his mother, missing London and missing you. I said you’d be up to visit him soon. Don’t make a liar out of me.’

‘I won’t,’ I assured her, although I could not imagine when the time would come for me to take a trip to Rochester in the near future. I was a busy professional now with my own criminal division to run and I’d spent enough time worrying about this nasty distraction. But Lily had done well in finding so safe a haven for Scratcher and I had begun giving her feet a good rub while she spoke.

‘My sister’s husband, this Mr Wadey who teaches in the church school up there, he seems a decent sort for a flat. He’s giving Scratcher meals and board as long as he helps with some chores and he’s got him a place in his school. So Scratcher might even learn something while he’s up there.’

‘Yeah,’ I said in a loving voice, as she leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. ‘It’s all turned out for the best.’

At this Lily’s pulled her feet away from my hands. ‘The best?’ she exclaimed as she rocked herself upright, and I half expected her tender little foot to kick me in the chin. ‘Jack, what you’ve done to us – to me, to Scratcher, to yourself – is the
worst
thing ever. I don’t think you understand what a danger Slade is. The things I’ve seen him do are terrible. He’s a monster!’

Her voice was rising now and I could hear the footsteps of Mrs Grogan coming upstairs to our apartment again. We was behind on our rent already and the ogress had been threatening to get violent if we did not pay soon. This commotion of the plate-throwing and the shouting was just giving her another excuse to knock on our door and harass us some more.

‘Why, Jack?’ Lily asked, ignoring my pleas to keep it down a note. ‘When we first met you boasted that you never would serve
any other master than yourself. I loved that about you. So why would you agree to work for someone like Billy Slade? Someone who is half the man?’ There was a banging on the door just as I had expected. Lily ignored it and kept looking at me. ‘This’ll be the ruin of us, Jack.’

I got up and went over to the door, glad of the chance to change the subject. I had enough money to pay this rent now, thanks to Percival, so I was unafraid of any confrontation. I asked Mrs Grogan who she was through the door and waited for the familiar aggressive answer. But, I was surprised to hear, that the voice that came back was much softer than I was accustomed to.

‘It’s Mrs Grogan, Mr Dawkins. Your landlady. I was wondering if either you or Miss Lennox might care for anything from the shops while I’m out? Or if perhaps you had some laundry what needs doing.’

I looked to Lily and saw my amazement reflected back at me. I went to unlock the door and I heard Lily caution me. ‘Careful, Jack,’ she whispered. ‘It might be a Grogan trick.’

But when I opened the door and saw her there, standing at the top of the staircase, she had this nervous smile on and looked keen to please. ‘Didn’t know you did laundry, Mrs Grogan?’ I said.

‘Well, I’m happy to for yourself, Mr Dawkins,’ she replied. ‘With no added charge to your monthly rent. And that’s another thing. Pay me whenever you get the money, I’m not fussed.’

‘Very good of you, Mrs G,’ I said with a bow. ‘Most appreciated.’

‘I’m glad,’ she said and, although I may have imagined it, I thought I saw the smallest dip of a curtsey. ‘I know we’ve had our bust-ups in the past,’ she went on, ‘but I wanted to clear the air. My boy, Teddy, he who drinks with Salty Moon down the Embankment, well he told me about your change in fortunes. So, as I say, I wanted to promise you and Miss Lennox that you’ll be
getting no more trouble from this quarter. It was important to my Teddy that I tell you that and you can pass it on to Mr Slade, if you please.’

I thanked Mrs Grogan for her timely grovellings and told her that we would not be requiring her services today but would bear her in mind as a laundress in future. Then, once I had bid her good day and shut the door, I turned back to Lily who was stood astounded in the hallway behind me.

‘You was saying?’ I grinned.

Chapter 10
New Business

Containing a good deal of helpful advice for the would-be cracksman

The first cold weeks of December was upon us.

‘Whenever I see you approaching,’ said Weeping Billy Slade during one of our get-togethers, ‘you and your Diallers are often being trailed by a crew of kinchins dressed just like you. Why is that?’

We was in the dark mahogany dining room of a tavern where he often insisted we meet and what overlooked the main thoroughfare of High Holborn. There was only supposed to be the two of us in this upstairs restaurant – save for the occasional appearance of a young maid what was serving us pies and ales – and Slade, as was his custom, was there before me. He was sat by a tall window and he had positioned himself so he could see anyone approaching from my way. This was how he would have spotted the raucous collection of fledging thieves what nowadays followed in the wake of the Dawkins gang whenever we was seen in public. Slade would have also seen us pass by the other side of the street to the coffee-stall holder, the one who had refused to serve us on that morning when we had returned from our Kentish burgling excursion. Only now, just five short months later, the vendor would send his son scurrying across the busy road to us with a tray of full and steaming mugs without expecting one farthing in return. Across the way I
saw the vendor nodding at me and so I picked up one of the tin mugs, raised it in the air in acknowledgement, took a quick swig, burped and then threw the rest of the black liquid out into the street and into the path of an approaching dray horse. The rest of the Diallers cackled and did the same with their drinks. Then we placed the empty mugs back onto the son’s tray, told him to stay out of trouble and walked on without one more glance in his father’s direction. It felt good to be respected at last.

‘Can I help it,’ I answered Slade once I had washed down a mouthful of beef and pastry with the ale, ‘if children love me?’

During these regular meetings of our two criminal gangs, Georgie, Tom and the others would all remain downstairs to eat with his redbowlered men while I would be invited up to dine with the top man. This was so that the two of us could discuss whatever important matters needed attending to in private. However, this upstairs room seemed to have very large mice and I could often hear the occasional small bump from behind the panelled walls. I recognised such noises from the Three Cripples tap room what was full of hidden compartments and peep-holes behind which Fagin used to secrete himself so he could spy upon those who thought themselves unobserved. I had no doubt that this pub was also furnished with unseen nooks behind the panelling and I considered telling Slade not to waste his time with such tricks. He made a good job of feigning ignorance whenever I asked him if he could hear something strange from behind the walls but it was clear he knew we was not alone. However, there was nothing about this conversation what would not incriminate the both of us and so I decided to ignore the human woodworm and just carried on enjoying my lunch.

‘I’ve known some burglars in my time, Dodger,’ Slade said once the maid had shut the door behind us, ‘but none as reliable as you and your boys. You’re the best house-breakers in London.’

‘Thank you very much, Billy,’ I said, as I gave the pie another liberal splash of vinegar, ‘I’ll pass the compliment along to the others.’

‘It’s rare to find such craft these days,’ he went on while mopping up the gravy on his own plate with a bread roll, ‘the rest are just smash-and-grab merchants from what I can see.’

‘Amateurs,’ I agreed after I had shovelled another forkful of mashed potato into my mouth. ‘Giving the rest of us a bad name.’

‘And what astounds me the most,’ he continued after we had chinked tankards and drunk to our own health, ‘is that I hear that you never take a barker with you on a crack. And that you forbid any of your gang to do the same. Isn’t that risky?’ I dabbed my lips with a napkin before replying.

‘A good burglar has no call to use a pistol and the only risk lies in taking one,’ I explained. ‘A solid persuader is what you need if you run into bother and so I insist all my boys carry coshes. But barkers are dangerous because if one goes off unexpected and shoots a person dead then you could get the drop if arrested. They’ll hang a killer before a burglar, everyone knows that.’

‘Can’t argue with your logic,’ admitted Slade. He laid down his cutlery and waited for me to finish eating before bringing the conversation around to new business. In recent weeks my gang of crooks – the Seven Dials division as Slade called us – had been good earners and I had no doubt that he must have been impressed by the fruits of our labour. The warehouse crack in Hackney had proven to be even more profitable than Tom and I had hoped for and this had been the start of what was still an encouraging run of felonious prosperity. Slade had since given us a good deal of information about wealthy and vulnerable homes throughout the capital and this had made the whole enterprise of being a burglar so much simpler. Such jobs had proven worthwhile for everyone involved
and even after we had given Slade his share for moving the goods along we was still well in coin. The benefits of being under the care of a parent criminal such as Billy Slade had manifested itself in other ways too and several Diallers had remarked to me that they was finding the criminal life much more agreeable nowadays.

‘So I’ve got another job for you, Dodger,’ he said, and leaned in closer. ‘But this one is more delicate than most. It comes to me from someone high.’

‘Now there you surprise me, Billy,’ I said as I licked my knife clean and laid it down, ‘when we first met you said there was none higher.’

‘There’s isn’t,’ he replied sounding defensive. ‘At least nobody in the criminal world is higher. But the person I’m talking about would not consider himself a criminal in the usual sense. That’s why he comes to me to execute certain tasks on his behalf.’