very glad I did or I would not have had the pleasure of your company, Clara. I hope you don’t mind my using your Christian name?’
She shook her head. ‘No, sir.’
‘It would please me greatly if you would call me Joss. I’m uncomfortable with formality.’
‘I doubt if your mama would agree with that – Joss.’
He threw back his head and laughed. ‘I was right. I took you for a spirited woman, Clara. I’m a very good judge of character.’ He leaned forward to get a better view of James, who was slipping and sliding on the snowy street as he attempted to hail a cab. ‘I’d laugh if he took a tumble. James is so stiff-necked he’ll make an excellent butler one day. I sometimes think he must have been born middle-aged, and I doubt if he is a year my senior.’
Clara was just about to tell him she would prefer to walk when James succeeded in attracting the attention of a cabby who had just dropped a gentleman off at a house further along the street. Joss handed her into the hansom cab and climbed in after her. Sitting side by side with a relative stranger was a nerve-racking experience for Clara and she stared ahead, wishing she had risked offending him by refusing his offer. Joss Comerford might not be this friendly if he knew of her involvement with one of the most vicious gangs in London. It was a relief when the cab drew to a halt outside her shop, but the feeling was short-lived.
A man wearing a battered top hat and a greasy woollen muffler was leaning against the pub wall. She recognised him at once and her heart sank.
‘Thank you, sir.’ Clara gathered her skirts around her and climbed down from the cab before Joss had a chance to assist her. Standing on the icy pavement, she flashed him a smile. ‘I’m very grateful for the cab ride, Mr Comerford.’
‘Don’t mention it, Clara. I hope we meet again soon …’ His voice trailed off as the cabby flicked his whip above the horse’s ears and the cab lurched on its way.
Clara waited until it was out of sight before turning to Bones, Patches’ right-hand man. The mere sight of him was enough to make her flesh creep, but she put on a brave face.
‘I have another day to find the money, Mr Bones.’
‘Not by Patches’ reckoning you ain’t. You’re to come with me and no argument.’
‘All right, I’ll come, but first I must make sure that my little sister is all right. I left her alone in the shop.’
‘You should have thought of that afore you got mixed up with Patches Bragg, my duck.’ He grabbed her by the arm and propelled her along the street with surprising strength for a small man.
Clara gave him a shove, catching him off guard. ‘There’s no need for force. I want to see Patches anyway.’
‘I hope you got the readies.’
‘That’s something I want to discuss with Patches.’
His cackle of laughter made people stop and stare at the odd couple, but Clara held her head high. Patches Bragg might be the leader of one of the roughest gangs in London, but she was still a woman. There must be some common ground for negotiation. Clara’s heart was pounding, but she fought down the instinct to run way and allowed Bones to lead her to Angel Court.
It was daylight above ground, but in the underworld of the illegal gaming club it was permanent night. The smell of oil lamps and the fumes of alcohol mingled with tobacco smoke and the stench of unwashed bodies, and Clara had to fight down a feeling of nausea. Her empty stomach rebelled against the noxious odours and the sight of unkempt, unshaven men lolling in their seats at the gaming table, some of them head down and snoring, while their fellow gamesters played on, staring at their cards with bloodshot eyes.
Patches was in a small cubbyhole, counting her takings.
‘I don’t like to be kept waiting,’ she said gruffly. ‘What kept you, Bones?’
‘She weren’t at home, boss. Had to wait in the freezing cold and then she turns up large as life in a cab with a toff I ain’t never seen afore.’
‘So you got a fancy man, have you?’ Patches leaned forward, her large breasts bubbling over the top of her low-cut gown. ‘He should be good for a bob or two. Where’s me money?’
Clara drew herself up to her full height. ‘I’ve never met the gentleman before today. He’s nothing to me, and I haven’t got the money. You said three days and it’s only been two.’
‘I was counting from the day you turned up here, so don’t play games with me, and that was before your feller blacked my Bertie’s eye. I got a score to settle with Luke Foyle, but that’s another matter. Have you got the cash or not?’
‘I can’t raise that much so quickly. I must have more time.’
‘Must have?’ Patches spat the words as if they were a bitter taste in her mouth. ‘I don’t think you’ve got much choice, not if you want your young sister to walk again. One gammy leg is bad luck, two is a tragedy that you can prevent, and it’ll cost ten guineas. The price has gone up now.’
‘That’s not fair.’ Clara was too angry to feel intimidated. ‘Leave my family out of this. I’ve taken on responsibility for my father’s debts; it has nothing to do with my sisters.’
‘Then you got to pay up, or …’ Patches narrowed her eyes so that they disappeared into slits. ‘There is one way you could make things square.’
‘Go on.’ Clara knew she was not going to like the alternative, but she had little option.
‘I got a score to settle with the Skinner brothers, and I ain’t too pleased with Luke Foyle, neither. He’s supposed to work for me, and keep an eye on the other gangs, but I fear he’s let me down, and that ain’t acceptable.’
Clara’s heart was beating so fast that she could hardly breathe. ‘That has nothing to do with me.’
‘Hoity-toity, ain’t you? But you should be more respectful. I could wring your pretty neck with one hand tied behind me back, and Bones is an expert in other methods of making people co-operate. Do I make meself clear?’
‘Yes,’ Clara said, nodding. ‘Crystal clear.’
‘I knew you was a clever girl.’ Patches lowered her voice. ‘Your feller is small beer and I’ll deal with him, but it’s Ned and Sid Skinner I want put out of the way – permanent like.’
‘I don’t know how I can help you with that. I have nothing to do with the gang.’
‘But your feller does. I want information and it’s worth ten guineas.’ Patches reached for the gin bottle and half-filled her glass. She took a mouthful, swallowed and breathed gin fumes into Clara’s face. ‘The Skinners have gone to ground. I want to know where they’re hiding out. It’s as simple as that.’
‘But surely your men could get that information much quicker than I would?’
‘Not
