Free The Urchin's Song by Rita Bradshaw

their name and other details on to a tin strip. She had been keeping an eye open from the moment they had left Northumberland Place, but he must have been trailing them all along. Was her da with him?
    ‘Here.’ She handed the parcel of clothes to a taken-aback Vera, securing the poker from her friend who had been holding the instrument of protection since the market. ‘If you want to get the tickets I’ll be back in a minute. I’m just going to have a word with Jimmy.’
    ‘He’s here?’
    ‘Outside.’ Josie flicked her head towards the entrance.
    ‘Alone, lass?’
    There was a grim warning in Vera’s tone, but although Josie knew what she meant, she said quietly, ‘Stay with Gertie, Vera. Nothing can happen, even if he’s not alone.’
    Jimmy wasn’t alone. When she emerged from the entrance to the station she saw them immediately, the small boy and the big man standing on the pavement opposite. Her father had his arm in a sling but the sight aroused no emotion in Josie except to make her grip the poker more firmly. Nevertheless her stomach was trembling as she approached them, their faces reflecting a surliness which made them even more alike. Her father spoke before she reached them. ‘What the hell do y’think you’re doin’ gallivantin’ about?’ he growled. ‘Get your backside home where it belongs.’
    She did not answer him for a moment, and then she said in a voice even she recognised did not sound like her own, ‘We’re not coming back.’ And then, more loudly, ‘We’re not coming back ever.’
    ‘My belt says different.’
    Again she didn’t answer immediately, but as her hand instinctively flexed on the handle of the poker she saw his eyes flicker to it. ‘You won’t ever use your belt on me again, nor your fists either. And you’re not coming within six feet of Gertie. I meant what I said last night; if I have to I’ll go to the police and tell them everything.’
    ‘Everythin’?’ Her father gave a hic of a laugh, his eyes fixed hard on her pale face. It had started to snow again in the last minute or two, small light flakes that were without substance. ‘An’ what’s that - that me eldest two trollops took themselves off whorin’? “So what?” they’ll say. “Plenty do.” An’ you’ll report that I wanted to take me bairn for a walk one night, eh? They’ll think you’re doolally, lass. Ripe for the asylum.’
    ‘I’ll take my chance on that.’ Her head was up and her shoulders were back, and then as Jimmy chimed in with, ‘Da’s done nowt,’ she snapped back fiercely, ‘Oh, he’s done nothing, all right. He never does anything except sponge on the rest of us. He’s never done a day’s work in his life. No, he’s done nothing - but what he’s made Ada and Dora do is not going to happen to Gertie. No matter what - you hear me, our Jimmy?’
    ‘You’ve got it all wrong, lass.’ There was a faint wheedling note in Bart’s voice now; he could see his living slipping away from him in front of his eyes. And Patrick - he’d given the little Irishman his word and taken money on the deal. He felt fear tighten his stomach; he’d seen what Patrick arranged for folk who double-crossed him. He never dirtied his own hands, oh no, he was too wily a customer for that. Patrick always had a crowd of alibis when the deed was done. He’d already be more than a bit put out that Bart hadn’t shown last night with the bairn. ‘Look, I swear to you, on me own life, right?’ he said persuasively. ‘I had nowt to do with Ada an’ Dora goin’ down that road.’
    ‘You can swear all you like but it won’t make any difference.’
    ‘You’re upset, you’re not thinkin’ straight, lass, an’ that’s understandable after last night. But I don’t hold you no grudge for me arm. It was a misunderstandin’, that’s all.’
    She stared at him, wondering if he knew how much she hated him. She hated him so much it had swallowed all the fear and panic.
    ‘An’