Page 23 of My Fair Lord

“Why?” Ned muttered through gritted teeth. A stupid question. Carver Clarke didn’t need a reason. Drink. Tiredness. Just because the mood took him. Ned was already making up his mind to deal with this once and for all, even before Alfie peered at him through swollen eyes.

“Some bloke came looking for you. Worked at the docks.”

“A porter? Someone from the ships? Did he leave his name?” Ned asked.

“No. A fancy bloke. From the offices, not the dockside. Showy clothes and an ugly ring on his finger.”

“Was it two pearls?”

Alfie nodded and grinned, even though it must have been painful. “That’s right. Do you know why toffs always like things so ugly? Anyway, he wanted to leave you a message. Knew you came here occasionally. He gave me five bob. Can you imagine it? Me with that sort of money. Course my dad took it straight off me. Took him a fight though.”

Alfie sat back on the stool and winced, tugging at the cloth around his neck. There were clear finger indentations visible beneath the collar of Alfie’s ragged shirt. Ned didn’t need to see beneath the shirt to know there would be more bruising and probably cuts all over the stick thin body. His jaw tightened, teeth grinding in fury. Ned knew about thrashings. Knew about vindictiveness too. Five shillings was almost a week’s rent. Or more likely a hell of a lot of cheap whisky.

“Aren’t you gonna ask what the toff wanted?” Alfie asked.

“What did he want?”

Alfie managed a feeble grin and reached out a hand.

“Will it cost me five bob as well?” Ned asked.

“I’m not stupid, me. Gin for a week and buy me a pie now. I chucked up my bread and scrape after my dad laid about me.”

“I’ll do better than that.” Ned walked over to the bar. Meggie Gallagher, the landlord’s daughter, was polishing glasses.

“Is your upstairs room free?” he asked.

Meggie tilted her head on one side and fluttered her lashes. “Yes, it is. My dad will be back from the bookies in ten minutes if you can wait that long, but don’t let him know I’m with you. We can talk prices when we’re up there, but for a fine gentleman like you, I’m sure I can give good terms.”

Ned suppressed a sigh. Of course that was what she would assume he wanted the room for. “I’m flattered but I want it for Alfie. The bed, some hot water to wash himself in, and a pie and half a pint of mild. Also a place to hide out. I’ll pay you three shillings for the room and another two not to let his dad know he’s up there.”

She looked a little disappointed. “Another time maybe. I’ll gladly help the kid out.”

“I’ll take him up myself,” Ned said. He turned to go back to Alfie, but the barmaid leaned over and grabbed his sleeve. He looked back, raising an eyebrow.

“Someone needs to sort that bastard out, you know,” Meggie muttered. “It’s not right. I mean, all kids need a slap for cheeking their mam and dad occasionally. Lord knows I had enough of it in my time, but that’s too much.”

Ned nodded. “It’ll be the last time he does it, I can tell you for nothing.”

Soon Alfie was settled in the upstairs room. It was small but neat with a comfy chair by the fireplace and a cheerful patchwork quilt on the bed. The water that Meggie brought was warm. Alfie had clearly never seen anything as luxurious before.

“Stay in this room. Wash yourself and eat your pie. Even have a sleep if you want,” Ned told him. “If your dad comes looking for you, Meggie won’t let on that you’re here.”

“Thanks, Mr Blake.” Alfie’s brow furrowed. “That man said you might not be going by the name Blake here. Do you have another name?”

Ned smiled tightly. Damn Van Hoon. Ned cursed himself afresh for keeping up with old acquaintances. Couldn’t a man ever escape his past?

“Not anymore. I’ll see you later.”

He made his visit to the Van Hoon offices first. The father and son were together. Willem Van Hoon stuck out his hand.

“Ned! So good to see you. Can’t thank you enough for what you did for me. We’re just about to head out to Murray’s Chop House for a spot of lunch. Care to join us? I’ll stand you a pint of porter.”

Ned shook Willem’s hand. “Regretfully, I have other business to attend to that prevents me from accepting your kind offer. You came looking for me at the Admiral Nelson. What did you want? Have you got yourself into any more trouble? If so, it’ll have to be quick because I’m very soon to be otherwise engaged.”

Miss Wakechild’s proposal was delightfully odd. He’d rather work for her than the Van Hoons again. He intended to leave Liverpool soon in any case, and the prospect of sorting out Willem’s mess again made up his mind there and then that he would accept Miss Wakechild’s curious offer of employment, regardless of any qualms he might have about the success of her plan. He’d move lodgings and change his name for couple of months until any trail that had followed him as far as Liverpool might go cold. He’d stipulate that wherever they carried out the meeting would be at a private event too.

“There’s no trouble,” Van Hoon said. “Possibly some benefit to you though. People are looking for you. Those in the know want to know what your intentions are.”