Chapter Forty-Five – A Painful Prelude
Fagin had recently had been having a house scouted; a particularly large one teeming with valuables for his young housebreakers. The pair of them worked well together, Toby and Bill, and the old man was very pleased. The housebreak was set for later that evening, and Fagin had little else to do but wait for Bill and Toby to turn up.
The afternoon was quiet; all the boys were out at work. Fagin enjoyed having the flat to himself but at the same time he never felt quite at peace until all the boys were safely home again; an odd trait but so it was. He was very pleased (and somewhat apprehensive) when there came a knock on the door not a moment later. Setting down the handkerchief he'd been darning on the table, Fagin scuttled over to the door.
"P-plummy an' slam," came a quiet, scared voice from outside. A woman's voice; one Fagin knew very well.
Fagin opened the door and ushered a tearful Nancy inside the flat, entreating her to tell him what the matter was. The woman was gripping her shawl tightly as if to hold herself together and her eyes were red, her face blotchy.
It took a moment or two, but Nancy at last managed to make herself somewhat coherent.
"It's B-Bill…" she said mournfully, wringing her shawl in her hands. "Him….him an' Toby. They…they went out drinkin' last night, to celebrate last week's break in or somethin'…" She paused and wiped her eyes fiercely with the back of her hand. "They…they came back roarin' drunk…you know 'ow they get…but they said such thing, such 'orrible things…After Toby left Bill changed 'is tack…'e seemed nicer…but 'e wos still terrifyin'…I wos so…so scared…" She paused, as if collecting her thoughts. "But tha' don't matter now…jus' me bein' hysterical…I'm alrigh' now…we both are…"
When Bill behaved kindly towards her, Nancy knew it would not last. His apparent kindness could be just as frightening as one of his rants; she never knew when he would snap, when he would lose control. This wasn't the only occasion Bill had acted like this, but this had been by far the worst. Not to mention what had happened afterwards, how Bill had beat her. That was something she wouldn't tell Fagin, something she'd never tell a soul. She'd convinced herself long ago that this was just his way; she would grin and bear it, because she loved him. She would never say a word against him, not to Fagin, not to anybody. Despite everything, she was in love with him. And this, she knew, would never change. Not even when she died.
He's not a bad man really, she told herself as she wiped away her tears. He's just Bill.
Fagin attempted to console her as best he could. He wasn't surprised but that didn't mean he liked what he was hearing. He'd known for a while that Nancy had her suspicions about Toby, and this development seemed to confirm his theory. Nancy believed that Crackit was, somewhat laughably he had to admit, a bad influence on young Sykes. He had never drunk himself to such extremes when not in company of his flamboyant partner; that Fagin knew for certain.
Although the matter worried him, what concerned him more was tonight's housebreaking. Tonight was the perfect night to go about such business he'd been told; the house's occupants were visiting relatives in Brighton and would not be back until late the next day. Bill and Toby had to be ready and alert, not lumbering drunkenly about like fools just begging for the noose to be slipped around their necks.
With this thought weighing heavily on his mind, Fagin offered Nancy a glass of gin to calm her spirits. The young woman politely declined; she had to get back to Bill, she said. Fagin nodded and waved after her as she left; shaking his head once she was out of sight.
Was Bill as kind and caring as Nancy made him out to be? Or would this all end in tears?
--
"You understand, don't you?" Fagin said urgently. Toby and Bill were seated opposite him, the former looking smug, the latter surly. "You have to be out as soon as you can be, my dears; they could come back earlier than planned for any number of reasons…stay aler-"
"Fagin, me ol' mucker, please," said Toby, with a lazy wave of his hand. "Stop bein' so bloomin' paranoid. I 'ave this all under control."
"You'd better have," Fagin said with a raised eyebrow. He didn't particularly enjoy Toby's know-it-all mannerisms, but he brought in the goods so he was willing to put up with him. "Well, what're you waiting for? It's already a quarter to!"
"For Gawd's sake Fagin," Bill grumbled. "Wot's made you so jumpy tonight?" He paused. "Don't answer tha'…turns out I ain't really tha' interested. C'mon Toby."
With that, Sykes and Crackit left Fagin's and made their way towards the night's house.
"You got the key alrigh'?" Bill asked Toby.
"Got it right here," said Toby with his usual roguish wink, tugging a small and slightly rusting key from his waistcoat pocket.
Bill nodded. Thus far everything was going according to plan. It did bother him though, Fagin's being overly paranoid. What was there to worry about? This was just like any other crack he and Toby had ever made…nothing had ever gone wrong then and nothing would now.
The house was soon reached, the fence vaulted. Toby scurried to the servant's entrance, Bill following in his wake. It never ceased to amaze him how Toby could do what he did and not get caught; surely one of the servants would be suspicious, at least? It appeared not. How did he do it? If Bill didn't know Toby, from first glances he knew he wouldn't trust him.
He was rudely started from his thoughts by Toby, who was frantically twisting to door handle this way and that, cursing under his breath.
"What the blazes is wrong wiv yer?" growled Sykes. "Open the bleedin' door!"
"Wot d'you think I'm tryin' to do?" snapped Toby.
"Wotever yer doin' you're takin' a long time of it!" amended Sykes. "'Urry up!"
Toby struggled still further with the lock for a moment or two before, at last, he came to an unwelcome conclusion.
"This blasted key don't work, Bill!"
"Wot?"
"You 'eard me! If I ever see 'er again I'll be sure to-"
But exactly what Toby would have done to the servant girl in question (not that Bill particularly wanted to know) he would never find out.
A commotion at the gate, a great clang as it swung open and crashed against the wall, raised voices, the glint of brass coat buttons, the sounds of a struggle nearby, a cry of pain…
Bill was only dimly aware of what was going on; it was as though he was watching the scene from above and wasn't part of it at all. He tasted blood and his wrists felt as though they'd been branded with white hot irons…
It was only when he felt himself being hauled to his feet that the realization dawned.
What was it Toby had said?
"I 'ave this all under control?"
He couldn't have been more wrong.
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A/N: It's been far too long since I've worked on this, my sincerest apologies. Here's hoping you enjoyed this chapter! XD I certainly did.
