Page 18 of Murder in Blackfriars

“I bet you’ll be in clover on Saturday,” Grace told her with conviction.

Usually, Grace was deferential to adults outside the family, having learned to utter quiet politenesses and then be silent.

Grace had, however, soon recognized Hannah’s good-natured and arbitrary sort of kindness, and swiftly taken to her, as Hannah had to Grace. Only a few months into their acquaintance, Grace spoke to and of Hannah as though she were one of the family.

“Ain’t you sweet to say so.” Hannah leaned over the table and dropped a penny into Grace’s gloved hand. “Why don’t you go off to Mrs. Becket’s table and see if she has a dolly you want, and I’ll have a chat with your mum.”

“I’m too old for dollies,” Grace said, trying to hand the coin back.

“Then go down the hill and get a bag of sweets I’ll talk your mum into letting you have.” Hannah winked at Grace, who closed her hand over the penny in delight.

“Do enjoy yourself,” I told Grace. “But not too many sweets, mind, and be prudent in your choices.”

Grace nodded, paying scant attention to my little speech, and hurried away. I did not worry about her too much, as I’d by now met many of the vendors and knew they’d keep their eyes on her.

“I have something of a favor to ask you,” I said as soon as Grace was out of earshot.

Hannah’s dimples showed. “You want me to look after Grace for a bit? While you rush about with your man? I don’t mind at all. You need a bit of privacy with him, I’m thinking.”

My face heated. “No, nothing like that—”

Hannah’s teasing tone vanished. “I really do need to speak to ya, Katie, so I’m glad you’ve turned up. The space for that stall is going to go if you don’t nab it. Those who hand out the spaces need your scribble on a paper and ten shillings. Then it’s yours. Otherwise, they have others who want it and will snatch it up.”

“Oh.” While I truly was interested in tending a market stallat least one day a week to see if I could actually sell anything, I was not prepared to commit myself so quickly. In light of Grace leaving London and now Daniel getting himself arrested, my thoughts were far from any entrepreneurial measure. “Ten shillings?”

“If you don’t have the funds, I can scrape something together for you, and you’ll pay me back.” Hannah regarded me seriously. “It’s not easy getting a space here, Katie. If you don’t act, others will.”

“Blast and damn.” I said this under my breath, but a hint of Hannah’s smile returned.

“My, my, I never thought I could rile you so. Especially when I’m trying to help you instead of nicking something in front of you.”

“Forgive me.” I drew a breath and shook my head. “I have many things on my mind, and I was not prepared to add another. I have much to tell you.”

Hannah gestured to her side of the table. “Then step around here, and we’ll have a good natter.”

I skirted the table to the chair she indicated for me. The seat had obviously been made for lounging on the shingle in a seaside town and was very low to the ground, but I managed to wedge myself in. Hannah plopped herself into another low-slung chair, leaned back, and propped her feet on a wooden stool.

“I’m curious to know what’s got you bothered,” Hannah said. “Did you and McAdam have a barney?”

“No, not an argument.” I waved her to silence. “He’s been arrested.”

Hannah’s mouth popped open. “Arrested?” she exclaimed in a quiet voice, darting a glance around us. “Oh, you poor darling. What’s he done?”

“Nothing. Let me explain.”

I launched into my tale of Mr. Banks and Daniel, ending with my hope to go to Southwark and discover what I could.

Hannah listened with surprise that quickly turned to sympathy. “Course he didn’t do it,” she said when I finished. “He ain’t the sort who would. I’ll help you search, Katie, don’t you worry. You take Grace home and meet me at the north end of Blackfriars Bridge at four o’clock. We’ll give Mr. Banks’s rooms a going-over in plenty of time for you to nip back to your kitchen, where you work too hard for too little.”

“Thank you.” I was too relieved she was going to help to continue our disagreement about me cooking for a living. I heaved myself out of the seat with some difficulty. “If it will assuage you, tell whoever is in charge here to make up the papers for me, and I’ll return on Monday to sign them and hand over some hard-earned shillings.”

Hannah launched herself up with enviable litheness. “You won’t regret working for yourself, Katie, mark my words. Here’s Grace.” She turned to my daughter with a wide smile. “What did you indulge in, my love?”

“Cream cakes.” Grace drew out a bag. “Four a penny. One for you, Hannah. One for Mum and me, and I can take one home to Aunt Joanna.”

“Aw, ain’t she sweet?” Hannah accepted the profiterole Grace handed her and bit into it, smearing cream on the tip of her nose. “It’s excellent, but I wager yours are better.” She sent me a pointed look.

“I think so too, but they are still nice,” Grace said generously. “Did Mum tell you I’m leaving for Basingstoke?”