Free Lady Lightfingers by Janet Woods Page A

ago. She came from the tailor shop a little way back. I think she sews for him in her time off.’
    Taken by the collar he was pushed along in front of the man. ‘Then let’s question this whore. Point her out to me, lad.’
    â€˜She’s in that alley over there.’
    When the man shook the woman she flopped about and blood oozed from the back of her skull.
    â€˜I only gave her a little tap, honest. She must be drunk,’ the lad said uneasily.
    The man looked up at him. ‘She looks dead to me. You’ll probably swing for this, lad.’
    Colour fled from his face. ‘But I didn’t steal the ring. She must’ve lifted it in the first place, and I just took it from her. I took money from her as well, that she earned sewing for the tailor. It’s in my pocket.’
    â€˜What do you call that, if it’s not stealing?’
    He said in desperation, ‘You can have the ring and the money if you let me go. I didn’t kill her and it was only a little tap. She was drunk, I tell you. I expect she banged her head on the wall when she fell. She’s only a whore, and nobody will miss her.’
    The lad was taken away in a covered cart with bars on, still protesting his innocence. Alice Laws’ body followed on another cart.
    â€˜She was one of my best seamstresses, and a decent and honest woman,’ the tailor told the constable when he enquired, and he spread his hands. ‘She was a good woman who was down on her luck.’
    â€˜Does she have any kin to inform?’
    â€˜Mrs Laws has two daughters. My lad will show you where they live.’

Five
    Alice was buried in Potter’s Field, along with other impoverished victims of crime.
    Dry-eyed, because she’d exhausted every tear she’d produced for the previous two days, Celia, with Lottie astride her hip, followed after the coffin cart.
    Lottie had asked for her mother several times, but was uncomprehending when Celia told her she was dead and wouldn’t be coming back. Celia hoped that, as long as she was kept comfortable, and fed, Lottie would soon begin to forget their mother – which was more than she’d be afforded the comfort of doing.
    It was a grey dismal morning; the river, and the bridge over it were embraced by the clinging, ghostly blanket of fog still lingering from the previous night. Stripped of leaves, the phantom branches of the trees reached out bony crooked fingers that clawed the grey blanket to them. Ravens circled over the cemetery, cawing harshly.
    The roughly made burial boxes were lowered into the grave one on top of the other, the earth shovelled over. Celia didn’t know which one held her mother.
    One of the gravediggers offered her a sympathetic look. ‘Someone you know in there, lass?’
    â€˜It’s our mother. Somebody hit her on the head and she died. She was gentle and kind, and would never have hurt anybody.’
    The man removed his hat. ‘Would you like me to say a prayer for her soul seeing as how you’ve taken the trouble to come and see her off?’
    Celia, who’d been going to say her own prayer for her mother, nodded.
    â€˜What’s your mother’s name, lass?’
    â€˜Alice Laws.’
    â€˜Bert, take your cap off,’ he said to the younger man, and they all bowed their heads.
    Dear Lord, take the soul of this good woman into your kingdom. Alice Laws was kind and loving, so say her children who are here to pay respect to her passing. Ask my dear departed wife Mary Holloway to take Alice Laws’ hand in friendship so she won’t be lonely in heaven. As for her children, help them to grow up as good, honest girls, so she can rest easy and be proud of them.
    â€˜Amen,’ they all said together.
    Celia was touched that a stranger would be so thoughtful. She remembered her manners. ‘It was kind of you to say a prayer. It was a lovely prayer and my mother would have liked it. I’m sorry