December 7, 1828
... Fagin, Dodge, and Charlie paused as soon as I reappeared. They stared at me as though I were headed for the asylum.
"My dear ...,"
"It was a joke!" I cried and then began to weep. I still don't know why I did ...
I sat down next to Charlie and covered my eyes with my hands. Charlie looked at Fagin and then at the Dodger. They all seemed at a loss as to what to do.
"My dear," Fagin began again, "There's no reason for it...,"
"It was a joke," I repeated and slammed my fist on the table. I rose my head and glared at Dodge. He, in turn, looked at Charlie and the two of them immediately collected the playing cards and shuffled out of the room.
"My dear," continued the elderly gentleman.
I got up before he could finish and walked out the door. I went walking down the alley away from the house. It was now perfectly dark save for the few street-lamps that had been lit. I walked for several minutes through the slushy, wet labyrinth with my hands in my pockets and my face downcast.
I began to get a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was a creepy, crawly feeling like I had swallowed a spider. A shiver went up my spine and I walked faster. My breath came out in clouds of moisture and cold. I heard footsteps. I ran.
It was a pell mell run; down stairs and streets, past men and women huddled in doorways, past carriages - all the way to Market Square.
I sat down on a park bench. I didn't care that the rainwater soaked my trousers or that the night was freezing, all I cared about was that I had missed a very important loophole. I had been unconscious of it in all my happiness and pleasure. I was a fool. Once more, I broke down and shook with every breath.
It was then that a hand touched my shoulder. I did not show the slightest sensation to the touch. The person who had done this then sat down next to me.
"Did she really?"
I shook my head and did not answer.
"Why not?"
I took a deep breath and wondered what to say.
"Do you like Nance, my dear?"
I could feel the man's stare, "I think she likes me," I whispered.
"Heavens . . . ," Fagin rested his head on his hand and went quiet. After a bit, he began to talk aloud to himself, "Bill is a very jealous man . . . must be reckoned with . . . Nance won't do it though . . . asked her already . . . he needs to be replaced!" He ended on a louder tone and smiled. He then squeezed my arm to get my attention, "You can have her, my dear. You deserve her far more than Bill does. You have worked hard, Tom. Yes, I know it. You'll make a perfect team," he grinned and rubbed his cold hands together in sheer joy.
"What about Bill?" I questioned, "He's dangerous, you know."
Fagin shook his head, "Tsk, tsk . . . My dear, you are just the match for him. You have a gun and wits (which he has not) Ha, ha, ha . . . ! Come, now . . . ," he grasped my arm and led me back in the direction of "home."
- - - - - - - - - - -
On the way, the elderly gentleman, decided that I could use a drink. We stopped at The Three Cripples (the bar that haunted me dreadfully, although he didn't know it) and ordered a couple of beers. I had recovered my composer by now and was feeling a little better.
"How am I supposed to do this?" I took a sip of my beer and wiped the foam from my lips.
"That is simple, my dear. Just let her know you're interested. Act romantically, Tom, and she will fall right into your lap," he grinned, moved closer, and lowered his voice, "She will do the dirty work herself once she realizes what a catch you are compared to Bill." Fagin nodded his head and then put his index finger to his lips, "Not a word . . ."
I looked up and noticed that Bill had entered the bar followed by Nancy. They took no heed of us. Bill seemed to be in a right state. He glared at Nance and snapped at the barman, "I don't wanna drink now! No, she don't want one neither!" he grabbed Nancy by the arm and pulled her towards a door at the far end of the room.
"Bill, stop it!" She tried to pull from his grip and, finding that useless, began to punch and slap him in the arm.
"Stop it, eh?! I'll stop when yer dead an' I don't need to put up with yer!" he let go for an instant and then seized her around the waist and carried her from the room. She continued to hit him. They kept arguing until they were out of earshot.
Fagin sipped his beer in a nonchalant manner. I was concerned and shocked at his demeanor, but I did not share my feelings.
"See, my dear, . . . it's simple." he drained his mug and we left . . .
Thanks for reading! This is not a boring chapter. Ha, ha, ha! Please review! The plot is getting thicker... - Elaine Dawkins