Free The Cockney Sparrow by Dilly Court

Ripper.’
    ‘The police will catch them both,’ Jack said stoutly, working his way to the edge of the cart. ‘They ain’t got nothing on Hardiman yet, but it’s only a matter of time afore the mad bugger beats some poor woman’s brains out.’
    ‘Jack’s right, Ma,’ Clemency said, making an effort to sound cheerful. ‘We’re here now, so let’s make the best of it.’ She turned to Ned and Connor. ‘I dunno what else to say but ta, ever so.’
    Ned shifted from one foot to the other, a dull flush rising from his neck to his cheeks. ‘I ain’t sure we’ve done you a favour, bringing you to this place.’
    ‘Don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine.’ Clemency shook his hand, not wanting to embarrass him with a kiss. She held her hand out to Connor. ‘I won’t forget what you done for us, Mr Connor.’
    ‘Nor I,’ Edith said, slanting a look at him beneath her eyelashes.
    Connor took off his cap and held it to his chest. ‘It’s Michael, so it is. Mickey to me friends. I’ll be off now, but don’t be surprised to see me turn up again one of these days, Edie.’
    Jack gave a polite cough. ‘Help me down, Ned, there’s a good fellow. Before the mad Irishman takes me back to Billingsgate and I end up under a pile of wet herrings.’
    ‘Well, it would give me an excuse to come back, now wouldn’t it?’ Connor winked at Edith and, as Ned lifted Jack to the pavement, he grabbed the handles and spun the cart round to face the Commercial Road. He rammed his cap on his head. ‘Are you coming, Ned?’
    ‘I’m coming.’ Ned grasped Clemency’s hands. He squeezed her fingers, looking earnestly into her eyes. ‘If you need help you know where to come.’
    She smiled. ‘You’re a pal and no mistake.’
    ‘You will take care of yourself, won’t you? Whatever you do, don’t go out alone at night.’
    ‘I won’t.’ She pulled her hands free, pointing down the street. ‘You’d best run or you’ll not catch the Irishman.’
    Ned opened his mouth as if to say something, but he closed it again, shaking his head, and hurried off after Connor.
    Clemency held up a warning hand as Edith tried to follow her up the steps. ‘No, Ma. I dunno if the geezer was serious about taking me on. You two wait here while I go in and have a word.’
    ‘This place is the devil’s midden. We’d have been better off staying in Stew Lane.’ Reluctantly, Edith went to sit on the bottom step next to Jack. ‘Don’t take too long, or we’ll freeze to death out here.’
    Clemency rattled the doorknocker. She could hear brisk footsteps clattering on a tiled floor. The door opened and she was faced with a tall, middle-aged woman who was all points and angles. Her grey hair was caught up in a tight bun on the top of her head, emphasising her pointed chin, and a triangle of a nose that would not have looked out of place on the wooden face of a puppet. She stood, arms akimbo, staring at Clemency over the top of steel-rimmed spectacles. ‘What sort of hour do you call this to knock on the door of a respectable lodging house?’
    ‘I – I come to see Mr Augustus Throop.’Clemency pulled his card from her pocket and held it out for inspection.
    ‘Come inside. Stand on the mat. Don’t move from that spot.’
    Clemency did as she was told. She stood on the doormat and watched the angular woman march away into the unlit part of the house. The flickering gas mantle gave off a yellowish light and the distinctive odour of coal gas. Clemency shivered. It was as cold inside as it was outside, and just as cheerless. She could just make out a steep flight of stairs rising into blackness, but there were no signs of life, and it seemed that the occupants of the house must still be asleep. After a minute or two the silence was broken by the sound of heavy footsteps. Augustus Throop came steaming towards her with his nightcap askew on his head, and his dressing gown flying open to reveal a long nightshirt.
    ‘Who wakes me at this