money for the privilege, so leave it at that.’ Jacob shifted on his seat and pulled a face, uttering a loud groan. ‘Where’s that laudanum? I’m in agony.’
Essie returned to the kitchen and poured the last of yesterday’s boiled water into a tin mug, adding a few drops of laudanum. She took it to her father, holding it just out of his reach.
‘Don’t tease me, Essie. I’m in agony.’
‘I’ll give it to you when you tell me who this “lodger” is and why he’s hiding here.’
Jacob glared at her, licking his dry lips and grimacing with pain. ‘His name is his own business, and that’s all you need to know. I’m not telling you anything else, girl, so give me my medicine.’
Essie could see that this was getting her nowhere and she handed him the mug. ‘When do we expect him to arrive, Pa?’
‘Just leave the back door unlocked. He’ll come and go as he pleases. You don’t have to do anything other than keep out of his way.’
‘I dislike him already,’ Essie said bitterly. ‘He must be a criminal if he has to creep about in the darkness. I don’t like it, Pa. I really don’t.’
‘Here, take this.’ Jacob pulled a leather pouch from his pocket and placed it in her outstretched hand. ‘Maybe that will change your mind. Pay off that bloodsucking rent collector and get some proper food in, and some ale. What our friend does is none of our business.’
‘Friend!’ Essie tossed her head. ‘I’ll go along with it because there’s nothing else I can do, but I hope you know what you’re doing.’
That night Essie lay in her bed, listening to every creak and groan of the old timbers as they contracted after the heat of the day. The background noise from overcrowded dwellings, street fights and infants wailing was always the same, whether it was noon or the early hours of the morning, but tonight was different. She had tried to elicit more information about their mysterious lodger from her father, but he had refused to be drawn, and now her mind was buzzing with questions and she was apprehensive. Life was difficult enough without getting directly involved in criminal activities. The night runs she had done with Pa had been testing, but work was hard to find and they had to eat. She dozed and eventually drifted into an uneasy sleep, but was awakened suddenly.
She sat up, straining her ears. The hinges on the back door were rusty and she was certain she had heard the scrape of boots on the flagstones in the kitchen. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and seized her wrap, slipping it around her as she stood up and went to open her bedroom door. Her heart was pounding and she hesitated as she heard the door at the foot of the stairs open and close again, as softly as a whisper. Then the shadowy outline of a man filled the narrow space and he was ascending the stairs, two steps at a time.
‘Stop.’ Essie barred his way. ‘Who are you?’
He came to a halt, raising his head but in the darkness his face was a pale blur. ‘You were told to ignore my presence.’ His voice was little more than a hoarse whisper, and she could not tell if he was young or old, but it was obvious from the way he spoke that this was no ordinary criminal.
‘You are in my home,’ Essie said boldly, although her knees were trembling and she was poised ready to retreat into her room and slam the door in his face. ‘I have the right to know your name at least, and what sort of business you have that can only be done by night.’
‘You ask a lot of questions.’ There was a hint of amusement in his voice.
‘Your name, sir. I refuse to share my house with someone who is afraid to make himself known to me.’
‘And what do you propose to do about it, Miss Chapman? Your father has agreed to this.’
‘But I have not.’ Essie folded her arms, staring down at him. ‘You might be a murderer, for all I know.’
He mounted the last of the steps so that they were standing close together on the small landing. ‘Then perhaps you should be afraid. Your father is sound asleep – drugged with laudanum and ale, I should imagine from the smell downstairs. We are alone and I have you at my mercy. What do you intend to do about it?’
The blood was drumming in her ears in a deafening tattoo, but she was not going to let him see that she was afraid. ‘You don’t frighten me, sir. My father has made an agreement with you, which I must honour for now, but if I discover that you are engaged in criminal activities I will have no hesitation in reporting you to the police.’
‘Which is my room?’ he asked, stifling a yawn. ‘I’m tired and I need to sleep.’
‘You haven’t answered any of my questions.’
‘And I don’t intend to. There are things that you don’t need to know.’ He stepped past her and opened the door to Jacob’s room. ‘The bed has not been slept in so I assume this must be mine.’
As he pushed past her Essie had felt the warmth and a scent that was unforgettable. ‘I recognise you now. I brought you ashore from the foreign ship yesterday evening.’
He glanced over his shoulder as he was about to enter Jacob’s room. ‘Very clever of you, but I’d advise you to put it from your mind.’
‘Who are you? You might do me the courtesy of telling me your name.’
‘You may call me Raven,’ he murmured, and shut the door.
‘Raven?’ she repeated dazedly. ‘What sort of name is Raven?’
‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ Jacob said crossly. ‘It’s better that you know nothing about our friend.’
‘He’s not my friend,’ Essie countered. ‘I don’t like it, Pa.’
‘Just get on with your work, girl. I want you to go to the wharfinger’s office and see if he’s got any jobs that you can do. I don’t know how long our guest will be staying or how long I’m going to be laid up. Don’t think I’m enjoying this, because I’m not.’
Essie relented. Her father’s face was lined with suffering and he looked pale and ill. ‘All right, Pa. I’ll go out and get some fresh bread for breakfast and some coffee from the stall in Nightingale Lane.’
‘I haven’t got money to burn,’ Jacobs muttered. ‘You ought to make up the fire and put the kettle on.’
Essie took a deep breath, praying for patience. ‘I would, Pa. But we’ve run out of coal and kindling.’
‘Oh, well, do what you must, girl.’ Jacob lay back and closed his eyes. ‘I can’t sleep properly on this thing. I miss my bed.’
Essie snatched up her shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders, biting back the sharp words that threatened to tumble from her lips. ‘I’ll be back soon, Pa.’
She let herself out of the house and hurried down the street, nodding to Gaffer Wiggins, the chimney sweep, who was mustering his gang of small apprentices ready for the day’s work. Essie smiled at the boys, all of them tiny, undernourished and very young, but they did not respond. She saw them nearly every day and, had it been in her power, she would have taken them home, given them a bath in the tin tub in front of the fire and fed them nourishing food. But they belonged to their master and the many attempts by those in power to improve their lot had been largely ignored.
Essie sighed and walked on, heading for the wharfinger’s office. Maybe one day she would find herself in a position to help the poor and downtrodden, but now the need to find work was uppermost in her mind. And she did not trust the man who called himself Raven.
Essie heaved the boat across the stony foreshore and secured it to an iron ring above the high-water mark. She had just returned from taking