Chapter Twenty-Eight – Bethnal Green
"Grub's up, my dears!"
Nancy heard the familiar summons, and yet at the same time she was deaf to them.
Bill was gone…and it was all her fault…
"Nance?"
It was Dodger. Nancy sniffed mournfully and attempted to make her countenance appear as normal, but she couldn't stop the tears trickling silently down her cheeks. Dodger looked from Bill's empty bed to Nancy and back again, as if trying to deduce what had happened. He could guess, but he wanted to hear it from Nancy; maybe it wasn't as he thought…
"Nance…wot's wrong? Wot 'appened?"
"B-Bill left…" Nancy stammered, wiping her eyes to no avail. "'E's gone…"
"You sure 'e ain't just gone out on the job?" Dodger asked, trying to be comforting.
"'E would've said somethin'…'sides, 'e wouldn't go out wivout 'is breakfast…"
Dodger chuckled awkwardly, before being silenced by a glare from Nancy. Where could Bill have gone? Where could he be?
She pushed past Dodger and hurried over to Fagin, her frantic worry apparent in both voice and stature.
"Fagin," she said breathlessly. "D'ya know where Bill is?"
Fagin looked up from the fire where he'd been burning some toast, a small frown appearing on his face. What did she mean? Bill slept in the bed next to her, didn't he? He wasn't out here in the main loft; Fagin had been up a couple of hours ago and would have surely seen him leave if he'd gone out on an early job…
All this the old man endeavored to explain to Nancy, his own tone growing more frantic as he saw the girl's eyes well with tears. The boys at the breakfast table, hearing this exchange, looked at one another in shock and surprise. Bill had gone? Where had he gone? Why had he left?
"I'm afraid I don't know where he is, my dear…" Fagin finished guiltily, biting his lip, no longer caring that his toast was turning black and crumbling to bits. "If I knew, I'd tell you…"
"But…where do you think he's gone Fagin?" said Nancy hurriedly, determined not to give up. "Why would he just…leave…like that? He didn't say goodbye…or anythin'!" She let out another miserable sniffle, wiping her nose as delicately as she could with the back of her hand.
Fagin sighed and quickly handed Nancy his handkerchief. The girl took it and blew her nose apologizing profusely afterwards for mucking it up. Fagin waved it off and attempted to salvage his toast, trying to come up with a suitable answer to Nancy's question.
It seemed Bill Sykes had finally decided to leave the den, and leave it for good. Gone to get a place of his own, just like he'd said those few nights ago at the Cripples. Fagin had assumed he'd stay for longer, but since he'd brought Dodger back (had it been only two nights ago?) those plans had dwindled to nothing.
Was Dodger the reason Bill had left?
--
It hadn't taken Bill long to find himself a flat; it was finder's keeper's in the real estate market, especially in this area. The flat was situated in Bethnal Green, only a twenty minute or so's walk from Fagin's. The place was clearly abandoned and unused; a small, two roomed space with only a few cupboards, a table, three chairs, a minute stove and a double bed to its name.
Bill felt no qualms about taking the place as his own; he needed a flat and this place suited him just fine. The mattress was uncomfortable, but at least it was better than his bed at Fagin's place. Getting to his feet, rubbing sleep from his eyes, he began inspecting the cupboards, as if hoping to find one full of gin like at Fagin's, but no such luck. He would have to get some at the Cripples; it wasn't as if he had anything else to do this morning.
He called for the dog and left his new abode, locking the door behind him. It wasn't as if there was anything worth stealing, not yet anyway, but Bill was one to take precautions.
--
Despite Bill's impromptu departure, Fagin instructed everyone to go out on the job as usual, as if nothing had happened. Unlike usual, however, he followed them out the door, making his way to the Cripples with them and seeing they set off safely. He guessed it would only be a matter of time before Bill turned up here; he had a lot of explaining to do.
As it turned out, Fagin only had to wait for around half an hour, keeping himself occupied with a penny dreadful, until Bill arrived at the tavern. The younger man did a double take as he noticed Fagin sitting there, but he quickly arranged his features into their usual expression as he made his way over to him, grabbing a mug from a passing serving girl's tray as he did so.
"I didn't expect to see you here, my dear," Fagin said in a falsely pleasant tone, folding up the newspaper and stuffing it in his pocket the better to talk to Bill.
"Very funny Fagin," growled Bill, taking a large gulp from the tankard. "You've got such talent; a real joker, you are."
Fagin chuckled wryly. "I see you didn't leave your sense of humor behind, eh my dear?"
Bill said nothing, and so Fagin continued.
"Why did you leave my dear, and so suddenly too?"
"I told yer I had to leave, didn't I?"
"You did, but-"
"I've got myself a place. At Bethnal Green."
Fagin stopped protesting; his face now showed a mix of relief and intense interest. Bill had managed to find himself a flat, and in such a short space of time! But then…why had he left; he hadn't wanted to leave the gang before! But then he'd brought Dodger back…
"You didn't just leave for convenience, my dear…" Fagin muttered, at last coming to a conclusion.
"Wot d'you mean?" Bill snapped, a little too quickly.
"I know for a fact my dear that you don't want to leave the gang nor, might I add, the seemingly endless flow of gin."
Bill scowled. How did Fagin deduce these things?
"You have good friends in the gang, lads who look up to you and respect you, a roof over your head and so forth. And yet you run off to find yourself a flat the minute someone usurps you…am I not correct? You left, my dear, because of the very lad you brought back…you left because of Dodger, didn't you? You couldn't stand him taking your place!"
"I 'eard wot you said to 'im Fagin. About Jeremy. An' about me."
Fagin bit his lip. He'd heard…
"About that, my dear-"
"Don't say anythin' Fagin."
Bill got up from his chair, slamming the mug down hard on the table. Fagin started at the young man's sudden movement, but said nothing as he had been asked. He looked up at Bill, a guilty expression clouding his face. He had to speak…
"I shouldn't have said that my dear-" He stopped himself. Bill wouldn't care for his apologies. He got to his feet, donning his hat.
"Nancy misses you, Bill."
Bill shook his head in disbelief. She didn't miss him; she'd be happy now with Dodger.
Nancy would be better off without him. He was no good for her.
--
A/N: Yes I'm a geek enough to know where Dickens said Bill really lived; Bethnal Green. Fagin's den was located at Saffron Hill if I'm not mistaken.
Gotta love Dickens and his informativeness. XD
And irony/foreshadowing much? –dramatic music-
Please R&R my dears! ^^
