Page 59 of Molly Boys

“Why?”

“Do it or no food,” Archie told him.

Huffing sulkily, Jack pulled out a shiny pocket watch and laid it on the table.

“What the devil…” Stanley’s eyes widened as he snatched it up and opened it. “This is mine.”

Archie cocked a brow at the boy. “And the rest.”

Jack growled, which was really no worse than the sound a kitten would make, and began to empty out all sorts of items onto the table. There were several coins, a fish hook and coiled-up line. A comb with several broken teeth, a half-empty box of Player’s cigarettes, a box of Lucifers matches, a snuff box, and a plain handkerchief.

Stanley’s mouth fell open at the small pile of items heaped on the table.

“Is that it? Or do I have to turn you up upside down and shake you?” Archie asked dryly.

Jack rolled his eyes and added a thimble, a needle and thread, another box of cigarettes—this time a packet of Churchman’s No 1—and some more coins.

“Where on earth did he have all of that hidden?” Stanley asked incredulously as he eyed the boy’s thin worn clothes and small pockets.

“You’d be surprised what a pickpocket can gather from a pub.” Archie shook his head, his glance toward Jack admonishing.

“You got all of that between the front door and this table?” Stanley blinked, tucking his watch back into his pocket and patting it just to double-check it was still there.

Jack shrugged. “Pubs are easy pickin’s, most people are too far in their cups to notice, but I’m not usually allowed in. I’m too young.”

“At the risk of encouraging you”—Stanley studied the boy with interest—“you’re very good at what you do.”

Jack shrugged again.

“I don’t understand, though.” Stanley frowned. “If you’re able to steal so easily, surely you must be able to sell or trade the items for food?”

“Just ‘cos I steal it don’t mean it belongs to me.”

Stanley shook his head and looked to Archie. “I still don’t understand.”

“He’s from The Nichol,” Archie said quietly. “Anything the boy steals would have to be paid in dues to Leland Rackstraw, am I right?” He directed the last question to Jack, who clamped his thin ragged lips together and refused to answer.

“He’s the one who has my watch, isn’t he?” Archie sighed.

Jack still didn’t say anything, but his eyes were shadowed with shame.

The landlord returned to slap a tin plate onto the table in front of them along with three small glasses of pale beer. His eyes skimmed over the pile of Jack’s thieving, but one glare from Archie and the man wisely chose not to say a word.

Once again alone, Archie slid the plate over to Jack, whose eyes had grown round. “Is that all for me?” he asked and Archie could tell by the expression on Stanley’s face that the question nearly broke his heart. Coming from a world of wealth and privilege, Stanley undoubtedly couldn’t conceive of what it felt like to go without food.

It was a measly portion, a slice of dry bread and a small chunk of crumbling cheese, both of which swam in a thin grey gruel-like liquid with chunks of stringy mutton floating in it.

It must have been the most unappealing meal Stanley had ever seen in his life, but at Archie’s nod of acknowledgement, the boy grabbed the bent fork and dented spoon the landlord had left. Jack shovelled the food into his mouth, as if he feared someone would soon realise their mistake and snatch it away from him.

“Jack.” Stanley reached out and grasped Jack’s wrist gently. “Slow down,” he said softly. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

The boy dropped the spoon on the plate and lifted his glass, taking a large gulp of beer, before once again spooning up his meal albeit slightly slower. By the time the plate was half empty and his tiny shrunken stomach was obviously getting full, he paused for a moment and glanced at Archie.

“I’m sorry about your Da’s watch,” he muttered.

Archie sighed. “What’s done is done, boy, don’t dwell on it.” As Jack drained his glass, he pushed his own toward the boy. “Jack, what do you know about boys going missing from The Nichol?”

Jack froze, his eyes fixed on his plate. “I ain’t supposed to talk about that,” he mumbled and resumed eating.