Page 58 of Molly Boys

“And where’s your mother?” Stanley asked.

“Dead,” Jack said matter-of-factly. “Some punter beat ‘er to death.”

Stanley stared at the boy, his eyes widening in horror. “Who looks after you then?”

“I don’t need no one, I look after m’self,” he replied with a stubborn jut of his chin.

“Well you’re doing a poor job of it,” Archie said as they approached a nearby pub.

“What we doin’ ere?”

“We’re going to feed you, boy,” Stanley replied as they stopped by the door.

“Maybe it will shut you up for a while,” Archie muttered under his breath.

“If Inspector Franklin puts you down, are you going to run?” Stanley asked Jack directly.

“You gonna feed me?” Jack’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Proper food?”

“Is there any other kind?” Stanley looked at Archie in confusion.

“You’d be surprised where he comes from,” he muttered back.

The young lord looked back at their charge. “Yes,” he told him with a frown. “ I can’t guarantee what food this place serves, but it will be a hot meal.” He glanced up at the dubious dockside public house. “I hope.”

“I won’t run,” the boy said quickly and Stanley winced. Archie wondered how hungry the boy must be to agree to accompany two strangers on their word alone, especially when one of them was a policeman.

Archie set him on his feet and opened the door, allowing Stanley to enter first. He followed with his hands firmly planted on the boy’s skinny shoulders. He frowned at the feel of every single tiny bone. There was not an ounce of meat on the lad.

The public house was packed with coarse sailors and tradesmen. Bawdy laughter filled the ripe air and despite the early hour, the watered-down beer flowed freely.

“Goodness.” Stanley almost gagged at the stench of overripe bodies and stale grog.

“There.” Archie lifted his chin. “Toward the back, it’s quieter.”

Stanley weaved through the press of bodies, jostled for his trouble, while Archie, keeping a firm hold of the boy, steered him through the crowd until they reached a dark wood booth with a scarred table. Stanley sat on one side and Archie pushed the boy to the other, sitting down on the hard bench next to him and blocking him in.

They watched as the fat, balding landlord sidled over to their table, no doubt noting how well-dressed Stanley was.

“The boy’ll ‘ave to wait outside, he’s too young,” he said gruffly.

“He’s fourteen.” Stanley reached in his pocket and pulled out a couple of coins, handing them to the landlord.

No one in their right mind would believe the boy to be fourteen, but the landlord took the coins and grunted as he slipped them into the pocket of his dirty apron.

“What do you want?”

Stanley wrinkled his nose slightly as he looked at the landlord and then the pub itself. “What food do you have?”

“Cheese no more than a week old, bread baked yesterday, and boiled mutton.”

Stanley looked to Archie.

“Bring the mutton, bread, and cheese for the boy, and three beers,” Archie told the landlord.

The landlord looked to Stanley, who nodded in agreement and handed over a couple more coins. He pocketed the money and disappeared without another word. Stanley opened his mouth to say something but Archie held up his finger, instead turning to Jack.

“Alright, boy, turn out your pockets,” Archie said, his tone firm.