Prompt: From Wordwielder - A famous necklace
The weeks passed in a blur, full of Running and lessons and organizing the group of kids that grew every day. He barely had time to sleep, much less work extra, but the thought refused to leave him alone.
A piece of his mum lay in that building, a tangible memory to remind him that they had loved him and had always made time for him, and he wanted it, wanted to learn every curve, color, and gleam until he could picture his mum wearing it. Picture Father putting it on her. Picture them alive.
He missed their parents. Nothing would ever change that, but to have a piece of them? Of mum? Of one of the last days before he lost them?
He could work for that. And Charlie would love it.
That made the true difference. Wiggins would do—had done—anything for his sister, and she would love to own that piece of their parents. Had loved to see it, that first day. He could go without sleep a few nights a week to give his sister a piece of their mum.
But only if it did not affect the Irregulars. The others expected him to help pay rent and lead them, and he refused to miss even one of Mr. Holmes' lessons or jobs, but slowly, stolen minutes became stolen hours, and stolen hours earned honest coins. With enough coins, he could see that look of awe once more.
"Well done, lad. Here ye're."
Grubby coins landed in equally grubby fingers, then promptly disappeared into his safest pocket with a quiet 'thank you'. Only a little more now. Surely a quarter of mum's "nest egg" would be enough?
If not, he would simply make a payment and go back to work, but hope remained, warm, glowing, remembering their mum reclined on the sofa, drawing the necklace that formed his strongest memory of her.
"Laddie!" An older woman waved at him from the next block. "You want to earn a few coins?"
He trotted closer. "Yes'm. How can I help?"
An hour's lap through butcher, grocer, and tailor gained four more coins, and a bit of adding proved he had finally completed his last shilling, though late enough to make him wait until morning.
The night dragged slower than ever before, minutes passing as hours while he longed to see the sky lighten with dawn. Mr. Hobbs opened an hour after sunup this time of year. He would sneak out after breakfast, alone, so he could relive the memory for a few minutes, then he could surprise Charlie with their mum's necklace. He did not need a necklace, but he would rather his sister have it than let it collect dust in Mr. Hobbs' cabinet. No matter how nice Mr. Hobbs was, he was not family. He could not appreciate mum as they could.
Maybe Mr. Hobbs would let him have the design, too.
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