Chapter Thirteen – Listening At Keyholes
"Fagin, wot d'you think you're doin'?"
"Hush Bill, hush, don't speak so loud!"
"I'll speak as loud as I please!"
"You'll wake the-"
"I don't care. Wot the 'ell are you doin'?"
"You're being rather vague, my d-"
"I don't care fer yer word games, Fagin. Tha' girl-"
"Nancy…"
"Wotever! Wot's she to do wiv us? Why'd you bring 'er back?"
"We need more young 'uns around here, my dear. She can pick pockets just as well as you and the other lads; maybe better!"
"Are you sayin' tha' some girl is better than all of us?"
"You haven't seen her pick a pocket, my dear. She's a natural!"
"As if I care!"
Fagin raised a skeptical eyebrow. Bill was reacting just as he'd expected; maybe over-reacting a little. Would having a girl join the gang really be that bad? The other boys and Bill himself were getting too old for pick pocketing now…but what could he do? He couldn't just throw them all out…what if they peached on him?
Getting an idea, he endeavored to change the subject and prevent becoming even more bruised by Bill's wrath.
"You know what, my dear? I think it's high time you and Jeremy went on your first job."
Bill's eyes lit up and he stood a little taller. Now, at last, Fagin was making sense. Housebreaking! All his apprehensions and fears of earlier years were now long gone; he'd become impatient for the day when Fagin would allocate him a house to burgle, a real job to do. Pick pocketing was no longer a job to him, more of a joke, a game.
Fagin chuckled at Bill's eager expression; a look he hadn't seen him wear in awhile. His face always seemed to bear a permanent scowl, as if he were determined to be dissatisfied with the world and everyone in it. And he'd been such a lovely lad too, in his time…
"Don't you get all het up just yet, my dear; I've still got to get you both a placement…but never fear. I'll have it sorted within the week. Just be patient, all right?"
Bill's excited expression faded and he quickly reverted back to a glare. Of course, Fagin was just toying with him, playing his mind games like some demented, wizened magician. He had the momentary idea of dealing the old man a blow to the head from spite, but decided against it in favour of snatching up the gin bottle and drinking the last few drops.
It was Fagin's turn to glare.
"That was the last of it, my dear. I'll need you to-"
Bill started towards him.
"I'll need me to go and get some more."
With that, Fagin scuttled past Bill with the intention of exiting the alcove. However, as he opened the door, he was greeted with a gasp of shock from a certain copper haired, dress clad someone who stood just outside.
"N-Nancy, my dear? What're you-"
Bill pushed past Fagin, and Nancy took an involuntary step backwards. She wasn't sure whether or not to be afraid of Bill; he didn't seem to like her and yet he'd run away from her earlier in the alleyway; was he afraid of her? Wouldn't that be neat?
"Wot're you doin', eh? Listenin' at keyholes, were ya?"
"Bill, my dear, there's no need for-"
"Shut yer trap Fagin!"
Fagin did as he was asked, falling silent immediately and casting Nancy an apologetic glance. He could no longer stand up to Bill, no matter how hard he tried. E couldn't help it; he was a terrifying person, he could make strong men tremble!
"I…I wosn't listenin' to ya-"
"Oh really? Wot're you doin' 'angin' about out 'ere then?"
Even Nancy could tell that Bill was furious, angrier than he had been before. She momentarily wondered why but pushed the thought from her mind as Bill took a step towards her, glowering.
"Bill, for gawd's sake! We're tryin' to sleep!"
"Quiet, will ya?"
"Gawd Bill, wot're you tryin' to do, wake the 'ole of London?"
Norman, Frankie and Jeremy were all wide awake, glowering sleepily at Bill from their various bunks and berths. Evidently Bill had been shouting louder than he'd thought; Jeremy was the deepest sleeper in the entire gang. His snoring was loud enough to wake the whole of London, let alone Bill's voice!
"All of you shut it!"
This was Fagin, who was desperately trying to salvage the situation and regain control.
"Norman, Frankie, Jeremy, go back to sleep! Bill, you get yerself to bed too, you hear me? And you Nancy, my dear! Lots of work to do in the morning!"
Bill rolled his eyes but made his way towards his bed as he was instructed. Nancy followed him; Bill was surprised and irritated to find that the only spare bunk in the den happened to be the one next to his.
Gawd.
Heaving a frustrated sigh he clambered into bed, rolling over to face the wall so as to avoid looking at Nancy. He heard Fagin's footsteps as he scuttled off to get the gin, the creak of the door, the click of the key in the lock.
"Bill?"
It was Nancy again. What did she want? Bill grumbled something unintelligible and burrowed further under his blanket. Childlike his behavior may have been, but he'd had enough for one day.
"I'm sorry Mister Fagin got mad at ya."
"Wotever. Go to sleep."
"Bill?"
"Wot?"
"I wosn't listenin' to ya, I swear I wosn't. I ain't a sneak."
"Good to know. Now sleep."
Bill, facing the wall as he was, didn't see Nancy's small smile as she crawled under her own blanket and curled up to sleep
When Fagin returned to the loft a few hours later, staggering a little and wearing a hat he'd fashioned for himself out of newspaper, a bottle of gin in each hand, it was to find all the gang asleep and peaceful, even Bill. Smiling tipsily he tottered off to his own bed, grinning all the more at the sight of Nancy unknowingly robbing Bill of his blanket in her slumber.
They certainly got on well, Bill and Nancy.
They certainly got on well.
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A/N: Some BillxNancy fluff because that's how the story goes. ^^ Here's hoping you're all enjoying these chapters and I'm not steaming ahead too fast with the storyline.
R&R one and all! =)
