Free The Cockney Sparrow by Dilly Court Page A

godforsaken hour?’ He stopped in front of her, staring through half-closed eyes as he knotted the tasselled cord of his robe. ‘Who are you?’
    ‘I’m the girl what sung for you last evening in Knightrider Street. You give me your card. Remember?’
    Augustus scratched his head. ‘Can’t say that I do. However, at this early hour of the morning, I can barely remember my own name, let alone a face in the crowd.’
    ‘But mister, you said I could join your troupe. I got the voice of a nightingale, you said as much.’
    ‘Nightingale, blackbird, crow – it’s all the same to me until I’ve had my first cup of coffee. Follow me, young lady. We’ll prevail on the good Mrs Blunt to let us partake of her excellent brew.’ Augustus swept off with a theatrical flourish, beckoning to Clemency as he headed off into the gloom.
    She followed him along the passage and down a flight of stairs into the basement kitchen. The aroma of hot coffee and baking bread sent signals to her stomach, whetting her appetite, despite the bacon sandwich that she had enjoyed less than an hour ago.
    ‘My dear Mrs Blunt.’ Augustus held out his arms. ‘What a perfect sight with which to begin a new day. Behold, Miss – er …’
    ‘Clemency Skinner.’
    ‘Miss Skinner, behold this woman, our esteemed landlady – the veritable epitome of womanhood, encompassed in one lissom body.’
    Mrs Blunt took off her specs, huffed on them and wiped the lenses on her starched apron. ‘Piffle, sir. Twaddle! And I’ll thank you not to mention me body, it ain’t seemly, especially in front of a young girl.’
    ‘I humbly beg your pardon, ma’am. I was merely praising your housekeeping and wonderingif there might be a cup of coffee for a thirsty thespian and his young visitor.’
    ‘You theatricals is all the same. Words, words and more words.’ Mrs Blunt sniffed, and the pointed end of her nose quivered. She turned to a girl who was sweeping the floor with a besom. ‘Fancy, two cups of coffee.’
    Fancy dropped the broom and hurried to the range where she picked up a large earthenware jug, which she set on the scrubbed deal table while she bustled over to the dresser to fetch the cups. Augustus sat on one of the forms set on either side of the table, and motioned to Clemency to take a seat.
    ‘Breakfast ain’t until seven o’clock,’ Mrs Blunt informed them as she headed towards the staircase. ‘And if she’s looking for a room, you can tell the young person, Mr Throop, that I don’t encourage unattached females to take a room in my establishment. This is a respectable house and I’ll thank you to remember that.’ She swept up the stairs with a swish of starched petticoats.
    As she disappeared through the baize door at the top of the stairs, Clemency uttered a sigh of relief. It seemed as though she had been holding her breath ever since she first clapped eyes on the angular Mrs Blunt. She sat down opposite Augustus. ‘I got a good voice, you said so yourself. And I wouldn’t want much in the way ofpay, just me room and board, until I proved meself, like.’
    ‘My daughter Lucilla is my little canary; she has the face of an angel and the temperament of a prima donna.’
    ‘But you said I got the voice of a nightingale. You did, mister.’
    Fancy placed two cups of coffee on the table in front of Augustus. She did not resume her work immediately, but stood with her head angled, staring at Clemency.
    ‘What are you staring at?’ Clemency demanded.
    ‘Nightingale, huh!’ Fancy tossed her head. ‘Blooming cockney sparrow, more like.’
    ‘You take that back.’
    ‘Shan’t.’
    ‘Cockney sparrow,’ Augustus said, rolling the words round in his mouth as if they were made of chocolate. ‘I like it. Maybe I could use you, Miss Skinner.’
    Clemency stuck her tongue out at Fancy. She knew it was childish, but she couldn’t resist the temptation. Fancy turned away with a disgusted snort. She picked up the broom and went about the