inside taverns, but always the answers were, depressingly, the same. Daybreak came and so they carried defeat back with them on the long walk back. They all took Jacques’s offer and spent a good few hours of rest.
Wyld strolled back to the Den, her conscience and backpack a good deal lighter. It had taken all morning to negotiate a semi-decent deal with those Muddick had arranged for her to meet, and while she was burdened with less, the profit cut still stung.
Twenty-four per cent.
Twenty-four damn per cent lost. Other places had been happy with ten to fifteen but no, not here, not in Windberg. People had to be kept happy, she was told. Dues had to be paid and so the percentage was jacked up; otherwise it wasn’t worth their while to get their hands dirty. Still, money was money and when an opportunity rose to relieve herself of ill-gotten goods, Wyld was not so foolish as to ignore it.
Rather than navigate the streets, she snuck through the station’s scrapyard, slinking past corpses of carriages and pallet-stacked parts before reaching Platform 4. On approach she observed the sullen faces and even eye rolling of the showgirls. They stood and sat in line, clearly disinterested in working. It was just past midday. Why was everyone lingering outside and making things look untidy?
‘Nothing to do?’ she enquired, prompting a handful of scowls from the showgirls.
‘Plenty to do,’ one responded flatly. ‘Unlike yourself.’ She leant over and whispered into the ear of another. Wyld didn’t need to hear the words. She could already tell that whatever was said wasn’t kind.
Jacques snorted as he informed Wyld of the details. Each revelation caused her to furrow her forehead in question, though she refrained from asking anything until he had finished. Each query, mostly, revolved around the why more than the how – something that the showgirls believed Wyld could clarify. She was, after all, a spectre on this ride. Her presence was unacknowledged, her cargo blatantly illegal, and if anyone managed to catch her involved in such business, things would come crashing down for everyone.
So it was assumed, almost unanimously, that Wyld had slipped up. Somewhere, maybe during the thievery, or maybe during an escape, she was seen and followed, incriminating them all. It was possible that one of her secretive contacts had ratted her out to save himself from jail time. Either way, the finger was pointed quite firmly at the Den’s resident stowaway, despite the evidence to the contrary.
‘It’s lies. I don’t believe a word of it,’ Kitty boldly dismissed. ‘We’re supposed to believe that Misu brought all this on us?’
‘That’s what the boss said,’ Jacques grunted.
‘Well the boss is allowed to be all kinds of wrong, isn’t he? We all know who the real culprit is here.’
She fired an accusing glance to a sombre-looking Wyld who sat in a carriage doorway. They all turned in unspoken indictment.
Wyld in turn looked up and around her.
‘It’s your fault,’ Kitty continued. ‘All this stupid running around, getting the boss to go this way and that. Robbing whatever you please. Misu is innocent and you, you little rat, you’ve brought this on us. Damn stowaway.’
The words were spat, venomously punctuating their boldness. Katerina placed a hand on her cohort’s shoulder to ease her back into line, a gesture quickly shaken off.
‘That’s not true!’ Wyld protested.
Jacques, as much as he hated to admit one of their own was the cause of this trouble, felt no option but to quell this accusation, for as much good it would do.
‘Kitty, the boss said –’
‘The boss said, the boss said,’ she mocked, waving her hands in gesture. ‘Well I ain’t believing the boss! My own sensibilities tell me the cause of this one. At least admit when you’ve caused a mess. Take ownership. You should march in that there police station and turn yourself in. That would be the right thing to do. Where did you hide all this stuff anyway?’
Wyld narrowed her eyes in response, though none of this was any of their business in the slightest. Katerina parted her lips to contribute but clearly thought it best to avoid antagonizing anyone further.
Wyld kept her mouth shut. She didn’t owe anybody an answer.
Kitty scraped her teeth back and forth in irritation. ‘Stupid trinkets. You have no shame, chasing the sun for junk. Getting others involved. Getting us involved specifically.’
Wyld took to her feet and walked before her accuser, keen to ensure that this would no longer be tolerated. ‘You should watch your tongue,’ she warned. Her patience had eroded to the point where she felt compelled to verbally defend herself, or put the youngster flat on her backside. Right now, the latter was an attractive prospect.
‘Should I now?’
‘So what is your suggestion?’ Wyld held her arms out, wide and in invitation. ‘You’ve not given a single helpful idea. You’re just a talker. A stupid, yappy little dog who does nothing but make noise. Would you like to find the time to make a plan to get this sorted? Or are you planning to just scream at me until the time comes to apply another coat to them there dainty nails?’
Jacques slumped down on the platform, obviously finding their voices far too grating.
Kitty flexed her fingers at her sides, clearly noticeable. ‘Would you like to see how sharp they are?’
Wyld took another step, closer now, ready for them both to make good on their threats.
‘Please do show me. I will smack your pretty face silly.’
‘Enough!’ Jacques exploded, stamping his foot down. ‘Enough of this already! Kitty, hold your temper. Wyld is right, like it or not, she didn’t cause this. Grow up and accept that, or sit down and hush yourself. The last thing we need is you causing a ruckus and adding to this headache of mine. We need to work out what to do next.’
‘Well, have you come up with anything? Has anyone?’ Kitty scowled in defeat. She complied, sheepishly, and sat down among the girls, with Corinne placing a confirmatory hand on the youngster’s shoulder. When Kitty sat, she skipped stones off the platform and onto the bare tracks opposite.
‘Not yet,’ Jacques admitted.
Corinne walked over to Jacques, heels clicking on approach. He smiled wearily, the events clearly taking their toll on his demeanour.
As always Corinne attempted to play mediator, for the sake of them all. ‘You can’t blame them for being frustrated.’
‘I don’t. I just don’t want them screaming at one another like wolves. They should be better than that.’ Jacques eyeballed each of them in turn. Kitty stared at the concrete.
‘And neither do I.’ Corinne sighed. ‘But we do need to fashion a plan. We do need to work it all out. We can’t just wait for the inevitable. Has Franco even been charged yet?’
‘I don’t think so. I’ve heard nothing more than what you know. It would be swift for them to do so on the same day.’
‘So we do have a chance to defend him.’
‘Against
