Page 61 of Guardian
“I made her. It’s important.”
Her mouth pursed and she shrugged, as if she’d known this day would come. “Let’s have a cup of tea. I’m bloody cold.”
She turned the pistol’s handle toward me. “Take this.” I palmed the cold metal, and she withdrew a chain from around her neck and used the dangling key to open the door. We entered, and she lit a lamp. “It’s dark in here. Light the others, yeah?” I set the pistol down on a table and lit two more lamps, taking care not to let them smoke. She busied herself at the stove, and I looked about. It was a large rectangular room, with its ceiling slanted on one side for the roofline and small windows. The kitchen contained the usual single brass tap and sink, a tarnished black stove, and shelving. In the living area were two doors, one likely to her bedroom and the other to a cupboard. The frayed upholstered chairs with the yellowed antimacassars, the ugly carpet, even the dents in the copper kettle she was using to boil water told me she’d rented these rooms furnished. I recognized nothing but her satchel in the corner. She could leave here on a moment’s notice.
I waited until we were both settled into chairs. The delicate cup was blisteringly hot between my palms, but I was so bone cold, I welcomed it.
Amelia balanced the cup and saucer in her lap and waited.
“I need to ask you about Maggie,” I began.
She sipped her tea. “What’s she done?”
“Nothing much yet—aside from pushing Nell and Mary out of the ring.” I raised a hand. “Nell is on her way to her sister’s in Lambeth, and I’ve saved Mary’s place in my room for the time being.”
Her lips tightened, but she didn’t reply.
I sipped the tea. It was too hot, but I swallowed it anyway, welcoming the burn down my insides. “Maggie wants me for a special dodge in Hatton Garden.”
Amelia’s cup stopped on the way to her lips. “What?” Her voice was razor sharp. “You haven’t agreed, have you?”
“No, and I won’t do it, especially since she’s brought Billy into it.”
She made a hard sound in the back of her throat, for she knew what he was. “God, no.”
“I just don’t know what to make of Maggie,” I said. “The very first time I saw her was in the taproom one afternoon, even before you told me you were handing over the ring.” My tea was down to the leaves, and I set the cup and saucer aside. “She gave me the strangest look. But later, she said I resembled my mother, so I think she’d already guessed who I was. From the start, she’s paid me special attention. Asking me about Sarah, flattering me, saying what a wonderful thief I am, even confiding in me about Swan River. But the whole time, I feel like she’s trying to get round me.”
“Why would she do that? To get you for this special dodge?”
“I don’t know.” My voice cracked. “I’m afraid it’s for revenge. She said she doesn’t blame my mother for being caught that day, but what if my mother tagged Maggie and Maggie found out? Is this revenge on my mother, through me?”
Amelia looked bewildered. “Why would you think your mother tagged her?”
“Because she was her jenny! James told me there was some bad blood between Maggie and her jenny over a man they both liked.”
Amelia set her cup and saucer on the table with a muted clink. “You’ve got the wrong end of the stick here, Kit. First off, I don’t remember bad blood between your mother and Maggie, over a man or not. And back then, we changed jennies all the time because Patty believed that having the same two girls going into a shop would make them easier to identify, as a pair, yeah?”
I sank back into my chair, feeling a mixture of relief and dismay that I’d put pieces of information together wrongly.
Amelia shook her head. “Annie didn’t tag Maggie.”
“Perhaps not.” I wasn’t wholly convinced.
She set her elbows on the carved wooden arms of the chair and clasped her hands at her waist. “How do you know that Mary wouldn’t tagyou?”
“Because I know her. She’s loyal.”
“And so was Annie,” she said firmly. “Maggie made sure your ma got away! Why would your mother betray her?”
“Because she didn’t care about anyone but herself.”
Amelia’s spine stiffened. “You think some terrible things about your mother.”
“Because shewasterrible,” I retorted. “Drinking herself to stupidity and letting men in the house with me and Sarah on the other side of the sheet—”
“And why do you think she did all that? Happy people don’t act so.” Amelia’s eyes sparked with something like resentment. “It might be hard for you to understand, being only twenty, but grief and tragedy can change a decent person down to theirbones, Kit.”
I bristled. “You think I haven’t felt grief? I’ve—”
