Free Den of Thieves by Julia Golding

know that?’
    I shrugged. It was his problem if he didn’t understand the king’s English.
    â€˜See you at dinner then – make sure it’s good or I’ll box your ears.’ And with that parting endearment, Nokes clumped out of the kitchen.
    My ‘kingdom’, as Mr Tweadle had called it, returned to my sole charge, I took cook’s privilege and tested the stew frequently while it was on the stove. It was as well that I did for my new master and his assistant ate it all without leaving any for me, scraping the pot clean. I gathered they had not eaten properly for weeks either.
    â€˜Not bad,’ commented Mr Tweadle. ‘Bit more salt next time, Cathy.’
    Nokes belched and patted his stomach. ‘I take back wot I said earlier, skivvy. You might turn out all right after all.’
    Mr Tweadle took a keen look at his assistant and then at me. ‘You,’ he said to Nokes, emphasizing each word with a wave of his knife, ‘are not to touch her, you understand?’
    â€˜Me? Touch a skinny little bag of bones like ’er? As if I would!’
    â€˜Hmm. Remember, I stand
in loco parentis
to you both.’ This was obviously a favourite phrase with him – possibly his only Latin. ‘She has proved very useful and I don’t want that spoiled.’
    Nokes scowled but dared not say anything before his master. Mr Tweadle got up to go. ‘Leave a tray of supper in the passage for me before you go to bed, Cathy. You’ve made a good start. I think you and I will get along splendidly.’
    â€˜Goodnight, sir.’ Still not liking him much, I recognized that Mr Tweadle was the closest thing I had to a protector in this house. He at leastwas trying to be welcoming.
    â€˜Come along, Nokes. I want you to fetch those . . . er . . . things from the printers for me.’
    Nokes took a while to leave, making a great show of tying a bootlace. When Mr Tweadle had disappeared back into the shop, the assistant pounced on me, backing me up against the stove. ‘Listen, Copperknob, you may’ve made a friend of the old man, but you don’t tell ’im nothink about me, all right? If I knock you about a bit, that’s our business, all right?’
    I wasn’t standing for this.
    â€˜Shove off!’ I was used to dealing with bullies like him and kicked at his shins. My shoe made a satisfyingly complete connection with the bone.
    â€˜Ouch!’ He hopped away, cursing me, obviously not accustomed to maids who hit back. ‘You’ll regret that, you little witch!’
    â€˜Listen carefully, Mr Nokes. I will do my job, cook and clean, but that’s it. If you want to punch someone, go pick a fight with a man your own size. I know a few that’d be delighted to give you a good pasting. Now get out of my kitchen, you flea on arat’s bum, before I turn nasty.’ I picked up the toasting fork and gave a significant look at the area of his body in which I was contemplating planting it. He took the hint and left hurriedly, his tail between his legs.
    I saw little of Nokes and Mr Tweadle after that. They would turn up at mealtimes, say a few words, then leave. Mr Tweadle always made an effort to be complimentary; Nokes just scowled. The shop appeared to be keeping them very occupied. Business had picked up and the bell was forever jingling as customers came and went. That first Monday must not have been typical, I decided. Mr Tweadle must be a bookseller of some repute if he was this busy. It might not be a bad place to launch my literary career if I could persuade him to put me in print.
    After a week of being kept indoors I began to go a little crazy with the imprisonment. Though I took my vegetables outside to peel in the yard and spent as much time as I could excuse sweeping the bricks, I still had not been allowed into the shop or out on to the street. Mr Tweadle was taking hisdesire to keep a respectable household too much to the