Chapter Twenty-Two – A Fine Life

"Where'd you learn to pick pockets like tha', eh?"

It was noon. Bill and Nancy had been out on the job for a good three hours and had just stopped for a bite to eat, sitting on a low wall to examine their wares. Nancy had got much more to show for her work than Bill; she was still small and innocent looking, it was nothing short of a miracle if Bill managed to swipe so much as a handkerchief undetected, despite his previous prowess in the field.

"Dunno," Nancy shrugged, taking a large bite of the mutton pie she held. "'S just 'ow I always got stuff, I guess."

"It's impressive anyway, a little girl like you getting' away with so much!" Bill teased.

Nancy frowned, resisting the urge to chuck her pie crust at Bill. Little; where did he get off calling her little?

"I ain't little," she snapped childishly, polishing off the remains of her pie before she had second thoughts about throwing it at Bill. "I'm seven!"

Bill was sure he had visibly paled. She was seven?! Nancy was only seven? That meant she must have joined them when she was, what, five? Or thereabouts? What was Fagin playing at, bringing back kids that young?

"Wot?" Nancy laughed, seeing Bill's incredulous expression. "Don't tell me you 'ad no idea 'ow old I wos till I told ya!"

"Come off it!" Bill chuckled, trying to pretend he had done exactly what Nancy accused him of. "Seven?"

"You find that so 'ard to believe?" Nancy said, eyebrows raised.

"Well…yeah. You don't act seven…or look it."

Nancy laughed.

"I'll take tha' as a compliment then, shall I?"

Bill nodded fervently and tried to distract himself from the captivating child before him by returning his attention to his own pie, only half eaten.

Luckily, Nancy failed to realize the awkward moment, simply content with sitting on the wall and swinging her legs, waiting for Bill to finish so they could once again roam the streets. She spotted Norman and Frankie across the road and stopped her leg swinging to watch them; Norman casually tugged a gentleman's handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Frankie behind his back. Frankie stuffed the handkerchief under his cap and the pair went on their merry way, Norman bursting into a fit of giggles as soon as the man was out of earshot.

Nancy smiled and turned back to Bill.

"You done?" she asked him, swiping the last of his pie from his fingers and eating it herself. "Never mind, you are now! C'mon!"

Bill rolled his eyes at Nancy's childlike eagerness, hopped off the wall and followed her down the street, watching her as she carefully extracted a wallet from a passing man's coat, stowing it inside her dress pocket with practiced casualness. Just for a moment he found himself envying her; she could still pick pockets, and so easily too, while he had to risk his life every time he went on a job.

Well…he was rewarded more handsomely for his housebreaking than he ever had been, even in the prime of his pick pocketing years. Fagin had gone so far as to write a verse concerning him and put it in his old pick pocket song; Bill had found it highly amusing at the time, not to mention proud that he had a stanza all of his own.

He began to whistle the tune absentmindedly as he caught up to Nancy; she and the rest of the gang knew the song also (another of Fagin's initiation rituals) and soon she was whistling it along with him. They stopped, however, when people started giving them strange looks; they didn't care about the looks themselves but the unwanted attention that it brought them.

They continued with the job in relative silence and, as the clock chimed three, they made their way back to Fagin's, content with the day's work and glad of each other's company. Bill couldn't recall a better day than this one from recently; a thought which made him frown inwardly yet continue to smile on the outside.

Yes he, Bill Sykes, was smiling.

--

Later that evening, dinner having been eaten, Frankie produced a battered pack of cards and proposed a rousing game of Speck or Speculation. Everyone gathered around eagerly, except for Fagin who decided he would simply watch (he knew he would have beat them all hollow, so there was no point in his participating).

Nancy had only played cards with the boys on a couple of occasions, and she wasn't particularly good at it (even when Bill subtly tried to give her hints). After a couple of rounds it was clear that she was getting nowhere. The game disbanded for a minute or two so they could all replenish their mugs of gin and Fagin drew Nancy to the side for a 'pep talk', not realizing that Bill was listening in on the conversation.

"A word of advice, my dear," Fagin said, a small smile playing about his features.

Nancy nodded seriously, waiting to hear what Fagin to say next. Doubtless he'd played many a game of cards in his time and would have something useful to say on the subject.

"If at first you don't succeed," Fagin continued, with the air of a philosopher imparting wise words to the foolhardy. "Cheat, repeat until caught then lie."

Nancy giggled. He must be joking.

Fagin rolled his eyes.

"Take it or leave it, my dear," he said, before returning to his chair and downing a glass of spirit.

"Let me guess…" said a voice in Nancy's ear, causing her to start until she realized who it was. "He told you to cheat."

"How'd ya know tha' Bill?" she asked, as the pair of them returned to the table.

"That's wot 'e tells everybody to do. Tha's why winnin' these games are so 'ard; everyone cheats."

"Oh."

The game recommenced but Nancy didn't heed to Fagin's advice, although it meant she would have won more. She may have been a thief, and she may have been best friends with a housebreaker, but that didn't mean she should cheat.

At long last the game ended; Bill had won, as he always did, much to the amusement of Norman and Frankie when they saw the thunderous look on Morris' face. One by one the gang trooped off to bed, until it was just Nancy, Bill and Fagin sitting at the table; Fagin repairing a torn handkerchief, Bill counting his winnings and Nancy simply watching the pair of them.

The flat was quiet, save for the crackling of the fire in the grate and the clink of Bill's coins. It was calm and peaceful, surprisingly so.

After a minute or two of serene silence, Fagin heaved a contented sigh, examining his handiwork before getting up from his chair to replace the handkerchief on the wall where it usually hung. This done he returned to the table and poured himself yet another glass of gin, a contented smile gracing his worn features.

Bill noticed this and raised an eyebrow, stowing his coins in his waistcoat pocket.

"Wot you lookin' so 'appy about Fagin?" he asked, though not harshly. He and Fagin still hadn't returned to their previous good terms (and there were doubts they ever would), but he could talk to him now without threatening to kill him. It was a start.

"I'm just thinking, my dear," Fagin said, taking a leisurely sip of gin. "About what a fine life we lead. Wouldn't you agree?"

Bill and Nancy nodded in unison.

A fine life indeed.

--

A/N: Some awkward fluff and an amazing life lesson from our dearest Fagin. What's not to like? XD

Please R&R!