Chapter Nine – Morris
Bill awoke the next day with a ferocious hangover; so strong that it hurt to move his head. He groaned dispiritedly as the wintry sunlight pouring in through the windows hit his eyes, squeezing them tight shut again and rolling over to try and regain unconsciousness.
"Bill? Bill, for Gawd's sake, wake up!"
No rest for the wicked.
"Wot?" growled Bill, struggling into a sitting position with great difficulty and attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes. "Can't ya see I'm tryin' to sleep 'ere?"
"I can see that very plainly, my dear, but in case you are unaware (which you obviously are) it's eleven o' clock. Make yourself presentable if you please."
Bill thought it best not to argue with Fagin after last night, and he sullenly did as he was told. He emerged from his part of the loft a few minutes later, only to be greeted with a sight he had most certainly not been expecting.
A boy was seated at the table where Bill usually sat, leaning his chair back on two legs, his cap at a rakish angle atop his unruly mop of blonde curls. He had a clay pipe in between his teeth and was smoking it with the air of a gentleman. Noticing Bill standing there, too shocked to move, the boy expertly returned his chair to all four legs and scrutinized him with narrowed eyes.
"You're Bill Sykes, ain'cha?" he asked.
"Y-yeah…" said Bill, quickly trying to recover his wits. Before he could inquire as to who the boy was and why he was in his seat, his companion let out a bray of childish laughter, cutting off what he had been about to say.
"Tha's funny. From wot Fagin said I thought you'd be taller!"
Bill was, once again, about to retort, when Fagin emerged from the alcove, where he'd been cooking breakfast, a plate of food in either hand.
"I see you two have met…" he said with a smile, depositing the plates onto the table and sitting down himself. "Bill, my dear, won't you come and join us?"
Bill didn't move, his fists clenched at his sides. "Fagin, who the 'ell is tha'?"
Fagin chuckled, snatching the pipe from the newcomer's fingers while he was distracted. "I see we're not quite on first name terms…Bill, this is Morris…Morris, meet Bill."
Bill bit back a laugh. Morris. And there he was taunting him for not meeting his expectations of height with a name like that. He made his way over to the table, prompted now more by curiosity than anything.
"Tha' don't tell me a thing Fagin. Who is 'e?"
Fagin bit his lip, unsure what to say. He couldn't reveal his plan, not yet, not so soon. But he had to tell Bill something…
"My dear," he said in a voice of forced calm, like a teacher talking to a rebellious child. "Morris here is your new partner. You'll both be going on the job together. Clear enough for you?"
"Wh-"
"Sit down. Eat your breakfast. Go out on the job. I'll speak to you about this later."
With that, Fagin returned to the alcove, slamming the small door behind him. Bill glowered across the table at Morris and began to savagely attack his food, deciding not to give Morris what for until Fagin was out of earshot.
--
Soon after breakfast the two boys went out on the job as Fagin had instructed. Bill was surprised and irritated to find that Morris was taller than him, if only by a small measure. Unfortunately, this wasn't a detail that Morris missed, and he kept walking on tiptoe to make himself appear even taller.
Although it was eleven o' clock, as had happened the previous day, there weren't many people about. Bill was cheered up slightly by the fact that he had anticipated this and managed to get a lot more for his money than Morris, who complained about the lack of toffs on the streets continually under his breath. Call him hypocritical, but Bill took delight in assuming the air of an all-knowing pickpocket and informing Morris that it was always like this at this time of year.
By three o' clock Bill had managed to procure three wallets (carefully checked after being pinched for quality) and four handkerchiefs; Morris one of the former and two of the latter. Bill had also managed to get his hands on a particularly ornate pocketwatch (goodness knows what its owner was doing out and about on such a day as this) but he wasn't about to let Morris know.
Throughout the day Bill had been able to extract information from Morris about why he was at the den. Earlier that morning, when Bill had been asleep, Fagin had gone out on the job himself and spotted Morris attempting to pick a man's pocket (with little success as he had almost been caught, only to be rescued and consequently returned to the den by the man himself).
Of course, Morris embellished the story to make it seem as if he had picked the pocket no trouble and Fagin had taken him in for his skills. It became clear to Bill that Morris was, for lack of better words, an arrogant and obnoxious prat; this made him feel a little better about the whole situation (maybe Fagin would kick him out for being insufferable?). He could dream.
Their return to flat (in Bill's case at least) was a triumphant one, and Fagin praised both boys for the day's work. However, despite the fact that Morris had not only pinched less than Bill, but also nicked items of less value (his wallet was even emptier than Bill's had been the previous night!) Fagin gave him more credit for his labours, merely commending Bill as having retrieved 'good stuff'. This, of course, didn't please Bill in the slightest and only made Morris more smug and pompous than ever, shooting Bill triumphant glances when Fagin wasn't paying attention.
Was it any wonder that Bill, having at last had enough, leapt at the younger boy and started attacking him with as much ferocity as he had the food at breakfast time?
Needless to say, Morris wasn't much of a fighter, and was soon screaming for Fagin to help him. Fagin did, but Bill noticed a strange look in his eye as he dragged him away from the beaten Morris; triumph, maybe? As always, who knew anything where Fagin was concerned.
"Get to bed Morris," Fagin said, his stern voice not betraying his true feeling of triumph; his theory had proved correct; Bill did take his anger out on the obsequious brat! "Bill, I want a word with you."
Morris stuck his tongue out at Bill as he moved towards his bed, a last attempt at retaliation although it was clear he had lost. Bill did likewise, despite how childish and silly it was, just to get back at the annoying kid.
Fagin grabbed Bill by the arm before he could attempt to irritate Morris further and steered him to the 'kitchen' alcove, closing the door behind him. He sat Bill down at the table before fetching himself and his charge a glass of gin each and sitting down opposite him.
"I assume you're wondering why I brought Morris back, eh, my dear?"
Bill was caught off guard by the question (not to mention the gin); he'd been expecting a fierce reprimand, another fight. He nodded.
"Well…I realized last night, my dear, after our little…disagreement…that it will be hard for just the two of us to bring home enough to keep us in the style to which we have become accustomed…having food in the larder, for example. Winter is always a tricky patch."
Bill nodded again. "So ya brought Morris back to 'elp solve this problem? Two pickpockets are better than one?"
It was Fagin's turn to nod, pleased that Bill had taken so little time to grasp the concept. "Precisely, my dear, precisely."
"So, when winter's over, you'll kick 'im out again? I'm tellin' ya,Fagin, 'e's a complete-"
Fagin held up a hand to silence Bill, biting back a laugh. So Bill didn't like him either. Shame there hadn't been any other lads out and about earlier this morning…but little did Bill know the problem was already reaching crisis level…there was hardly any food left save for a small loaf of bread…even the supplies of gin were running low! That was a crisis if nothing else was.
"I'm…afraid not, my dear. Morris is here to stay. As the others will be, once I find them."
Bill was aghast.
"O-others?"
"Yes. We'll need all the help we can get. And I can't very well just turn them back on the streets again; they could run off to the traps, couldn't they? We can't risk that, my dear, not now…"
Fagin had a point, and Bill knew it. He liked how Fagin said 'we' and not 'I'; it was him and Bill, partners in crime, the rest of the boys yet to come were just that, others, mere acquaintances and no more.
"You must understand, my dear, that I'm doing this for our own good…you know I'd much rather have it just you and I…I'm not discarding you are anything of the sort, Bill…you understand that?"
Fagin sounded distressed, wringing his hands in his lap as he always did whenever he was agitated, biting his lip nervously. Bill looked at him across the table and felt a wave of pity wash over him; an emotion he wasn't used to feeling. All his former aggression towards Fagin had long since faded; of course Fagin wasn't tossing him aside for some new pickpockets, he was just being careful…wasn't that what Bill had told him to do, all that time ago?
"You should be more careful then, shouldn't yer?"
"What does being careful have to do with anything?"
"You'll get nabbed by the traps if you ain't careful! You'll end up in the clink if you ain't careful!"
"I understand, Fagin," he said, giving his benefactor a weak smile. He wasn't the sentimental type; a small smile, he thought, would suffice.
Fagin smiled back.
"You'll still be the greatest man of all time, my dear," he said, with a prophetic air. "It's not as if Morris will be any competition!"
They both shared a laugh and finished their gin, relieved at last that they understood one another. But despite this calm outward façade, both Fagin and Bill were still troubled, still worried.
But they weren't about to show it.
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A/N: Sorry it took me so long to get this up! D: Tomorrow night I'll be out late again doing some recording for a 'Learn English' type CD…long story. Unfortunately, that means I may not be able to update as soon as I'd like. Apologies in advance!
Hope you liked this chapter; please R&R!
