Hello, my wonderful readers :) Popping in to drop another bit of history for Becoming Irregular. Hope you enjoy :)

We first saw Charlie's younger sister in Humbug #4

That goes…there. Then there. Then there. And if this went…here, would it do what McFarland said?

No. Pieces collapsed back into their container, and a low grumble escaped as she started resetting the puzzle. She would get this right. Such a challenge could not be ignored.

"They're gonna sell out iffen ye don't move it!"

Though it could be postponed. Making them late for the day's shopping risked Mum regretting this morning's hours of play. When a glance at the sky confirmed she had lost all track of time, a quick shove ensured every piece safely contained, then the metal case fell down the back of her bodice on her way toward the house.

"Emma!"

"Comin', Mum!"

She darted through the back door but tried not to skid to a stop in the middle of the room. She would make them even later if she earned herself a lecture for acting like a "young ruffian."

"Sorry. McFarland let me borrow one of his puzzle games."

Clear irritation relaxed in a breathed laugh, then a gentle hand ruffled Emma's hair.

"Probably with a fair amount o' ribbing," her mum realized on their way out the door. "I should'a knowed you had yourself a puzzle. Did ye solve it?"

"Not yet. It keeps falling apart."

"Ye'll get it, dearie. Ye al'ays do." Mum turned right on the main street before a gesture referenced the small market she liked best. "Ye know where we're goin'. Run ahead and watch for coins like a good girl. Stay in sight, mind."

Of course. Spontaneous desire wrapped her mum in a quick hug, then she skipped several feet ahead, watching for shiny spots as she went. With Charlie finding his own food with the Irregulars, they did not need near as much money for the market, but Mum's factory wages never went quite far enough. A stray coin could mean not going to bed hungry one night.

Not that Charlie would let her go to bed hungry, if he realized the problem. He always came home sometime after supper, but she had learned long ago to hide the lesser pangs. Charlie did not need to hunt for food for them, too. Not when he had joined the Irregulars—of sorts—to make sure Emma and Mum got enough to eat. She could always Run with the others for a day or two if she got too hungry.

Coins, now. She needed coins for the market, and half an ear marked Mum's slower progress through the crowd as she wandered the cobblestones, looking for glinting metal in cracks and crevices. A mite hid in the gutter. Another lay against the building. Something larger glinted among some tree roots, but a nearby stick revealed only shiny trash. Tinkling metal drew her attention to a newspaper booth. She looked up just in time to spot coins rolling every which way. Evidently, the old woman at the counter had accidentally upended her purse.

"Oh, dear me." A quavering voice joined stiff movements trying to gather the many pieces. Arthritic fingers refused to grasp some of the smaller coins, but the shopkeeper handed her several that had fallen on his side of the counter, apparently never noticing the street adult eyeing the many coins littering the ground around her.

"Thank you, laddie." The woman did not see him, either. A moment confirmed Mum close enough to help before Emma darted through the crowd.

"Here you go, Madam." Less than ten seconds retrieved every coin she could spy. Surprise appeared on the woman's face when Emma dumped the handful on the counter. "I think I got them all."

"Serves me right for dropping them," she answered. "Thank you. These old bones would never have been able to find so many." Keen eyes studied Emma and flicked a glance at her mum, then the woman quickly pushed two pieces aside and scooped the rest into her purse. Frail, shaking hands closed Emma's fingers around those two coins.

Those large coins. She did not need to look to know that the coins were far too large for her to accept. Simply picking up fallen money did not deserve such payment.

"But—"

"Take them," the woman interrupted, a gentle smile for Emma's amazement. "I am old, but I am not blind. You saved me quite a bit of want this week."

A pointed look indicated the now red-faced adult ducking into an alley. Emma swallowed, ignoring her Mum's hand on her shoulder as she fought to reply. She would have preferred to simply return the coins and melt into the crowd.

"Thank you," she murmured, adding, "He wasn't the only one to see, though, and this area has a gang of thieves Mr. Holmes has been trying to corner for weeks. Are you here with someone? Or do you want to walk with us? There's safety in numbers."

"My son is at the next booth." A tilt of her head referenced a man about Mr. Holmes' age working his way against the flow of Londoners, but the woman's gaze had abruptly sharpened. One hand waved Emma to the edge of the sidewalk. "You know Mr. Holmes?"

"Yes'm. My brother Runs with the Irregulars. I do too, sometimes. Helping Mr. Holmes is fun."

And the courtyard was cozy, but she saw no reason to mention that. Voicing such an opinion had encouraged other strangers to ask the courtyard's location. She had always hated lying.

"Exciting, too, I imagine," was the smirking reply. "Would you be able to pass a message to either Mr. Holmes or the doctor?"

Emma instantly raised her guard, and the slightest step back stood closer to Mum than to the woman. Not everyone appreciated the detective the way the Irregulars did.

"Depends on what it is."

"The blue-gown isn't who he says he is."

The blue—what?

The woman breathed a light laugh at the confusion on Emma's face.

"The blue-gown isn't who he says he is," she repeated. "Just tell him, dearie. With any luck, he will know what it means, and all of us can get back to our lives. There you are, Jack."

The man wrapped an arm around his mother as he glanced between them.

"Telling stories again, Mother?"

"Of course not." Her small pocketbook thumped his arm. "This nice young lady helped me find the coins I dropped since you decided to wander off."

Teasing remonstration produced a slight frown, but the woman cast a smiling nod of farewell at Emma before he could reply. One arm through his led him into the crowd.

"Emma?"

Mum's quiet voice drew Emma's attention away from watching them go, and she looked up as her mum put a hand on her head. "Didjye understand the message?"

She glanced toward where the woman had gone, then back at her mum, and shook her head. Not a bit. Was her mum about to tell her?

No. Mum merely gave a small smile. "Good. Don't try to, ye hear? Some things are better left to adults."

"Alright." She looked toward the woman again, though she and her son had long disappeared into the crowd. "Can I tell the Irregulars, or does it have to go straight to Mr. Holmes?"

"Best go straight to Mr. Holmes, but it can wait a bit. For now—" An arm around Emma's shoulders resumed their slow walk toward the market. "What did she give ye?"

How much can we figure for food? that asked, but when a peek confirmed her original guess, surprise kept her mute for several long seconds.

"Emma?"

"Tuppence." The quiet word made Mum freeze mid step, then long strides dragged her to stand against the building.

"What didjye say?"

"She gave me two tuppence," Emma confirmed, displaying the coins. "We can buy a lot of food with that. Can Charlie have supper with us once with that?"

Maybe more than once, by the shocked pleasure on her mum's face. An outstretched palm received the mites she had found earlier as well, and the precious currency disappeared deeply into her mum's pocketbook, where multiple layers would keep it safe from both thieves and accident. They had not found a tuppence in ages, much less two.

Though her mum refused to promise Charlie could eat with them. Quiet praise and a warm hug for helping the woman—no matter the results—joined a gesture indicating this should not prevent her from looking for more, and Emma skipped ahead to study gutters and cobblestones. Even tuppence would not feed them forever, after all. The more her "young eyes," as her mum said, could find, the better.

And she still wanted to have supper with Charlie.

The shiny fleck in the gutter became scrap metal. A glinting nail dashed her hopes at another tuppence. A young man ten feet away made eye contact, dropped something, and walked away. Hurried inspection revealed it to be a farthing.

For which she could not even thank him. She stored the coin and kept looking. Only two streets remained between them and the market.

A small potato in the gutter remained more than edible, but it would not buy better food. Someone had lost a small blade—Charlie might want that. Whatever that scrap used to be, it belonged in the bin now. What did—

"Emma!"

The warning echoed from the press behind her, terrifyingly familiar in its panic. She stopped searching to scan the crowd.

Duck and cover!

Reflexes honed by years of dodging Charlie's laughing attacks sounded the order, and she dove behind the nearest booth just before two horses dragged a tilting, wobbling, screaming omnibus past her and straight into the bank wall.

"Mum!"

No answer, though she might simply have not heard the reply over the deafening crash. The falling wall exposed the inside of a bank and buried the omnibus in a shower of bricks, and dust rose as she scrambled out of their path. Mum. Her mum had not been far behind her. Emma doubted she would have been able to jump clear. She needed to find her mum.

She needed to ensure her own safety, first, she realized as another brick bounced to thump her foot. Hasty movements scrambled across cobblestones to put several more feet between her and the crumbling mortar, then large hands grabbed her shoulders to pull her out of range of another collapse.

"Alright, lass?"

"Yeah." An older man frowned something like concern, but panting relief waved off his scrutiny. "I'm fine. Thank you."

He studied her a moment longer but nodded, darting toward the wreckage to help someone else. Emma pulled herself to her feet, shook everything to check for injury—just as Mum had taught her—and hurried for the other side of the pile of bricks.

"Mum!"

Crying injured. Calling family members. Screaming horses. The call faded beneath the chaos. Police started converging on the site. Passersby pulled injured out of the way and dug for more. A cabbie ran up a moment later, tears streaming down his face at the accident, the panic, and the injuries he found. Emma barely noticed him pick his way toward the horses.

Mum always stayed about fifteen feet behind Emma's zigzagging search, and she preferred to walk the middle, mostly to be close enough to reach Emma no matter where Emma looked. Several seconds found approximately where she had been scanning the cobblestones, then seven steps back started looking.

"Mum!"

No answer. She circled closer to the bank, scanning for movement as she went. If her mum had been near the edge of the collapse, she could be trapped. Emma needed to find her to free her.

"Mum, where are you?"

Someone else's digging sent several bricks bouncing down the pile, but Emma heard only the deafening chaos. When another round still found no sign of her mum—or anyone else, for that matter—she picked a spot and started throwing bricks aside. Less than a minute found cobblestones, and she started working her way closer to the middle of the sidewalk, then further into the pile. She needed to find her mum. Police would notice her any minute. No grown-up would let a child search for injured.

Entire bricks, pieces of bricks, chunks of mortar, random lumps that must have come from inside the bank, all flew to land on the cobblestones behind her. Half a thought pocketed a coin she found. Distant pain registered a scrape on her hand. Someone had lost a ring.

Her mum's pocketbook lay at the bottom. Emma secured it with her puzzle and widened the search area.

Her cleared patch became a hole, then a circle. An adult started digging some five feet away, thankfully ignoring Emma. Several bricks tried to land on her foot. She merely threw them to join the rest of the slowly relocated pile. If her mum had escaped, she would have found Emma by now. Increasing worry tried to cloud her vision.

Her mum had seen the omnibus before Emma. She would have lunged toward Emma as well as screaming the warning, so when that patch of bricks found nothing, she backtracked to where she had found the pocketbook, then followed a wandering line toward where she had been hunting for stray coins. More police reached the scene. A doctor started treating the injured now lining the opposite sidewalk. Two rapid gunshots finally silenced the horses' screams.

And the next brick revealed a hand. A familiar hand.

Warm fingers, mussing her hair. That old family ring, passed down from the Grandmama Emma barely remembered. A finger brushing her cheek. Tucking her in. Squeezing her shoulder in praise.

Lying limp on the cobblestones. Emma's heart sank, but a stubborn sliver of hope swallowed the building grief to follow the hand to its arm. A familiar coin purse rested beneath the elbow. The sleeve had a tear near the shoulder. Blood colored a cut on her chin. A larger injury on her temple explained her closed eyes.

"Mum?"

Shaking her shoulder did nothing, and two fingers below that bloody cut found no sign of life. Trying to reach Emma had put her directly in the path of the collapse. Emma bowed her head, fighting to control the loss building in her chest.

Her mum was gone. Dead, but she could not grieve. Not yet. Not until she got away from here. That policeman would reach her soon, and Mum would never want her to end up in the factories.

Silent tears wet her face as both the family ring and Mum's wedding ring landed in Mum's pocketbook, which safely disappeared down Emma's dress. Mum's eyes were already closed, but Emma allowed a few precious seconds to clear more bricks and make her mum easier to find. A long moment fixed her mum's face in her memory, then she pushed off the ground and darted into the nearest alley.

She would be safe with Charlie and the other Irregulars.

Yes, there's a part 2 of this, but with a trip coming up, I'm not sure if I'll be able to post it this week or in 2 weeks. See you then!