lightly. All his surroundings were unfamiliar, and he was conscious enough now to be fully aware of that.
She stood up, tidying back a few strands of hair and making a poor job of it. In spite of her determination not to care for the boy, she cared intensely. If he knew, he would resent it and feel trapped. She must not allow it to show. She went to the door without looking back, then forgetting at the last moment, she turned. He was lying in her place, white-faced, the skin pinched around his mouth, shadowed around his eyes. He looked very small. It was Monk's opinion he cared about, not hers.
'I'll be back,' she said, feeling foolish, and went down the stairs.
She returned half an hour later having made an egg custard, something at which she was not skilled. She had had to work hard to get it right. She had it now in two bowls on a tray. She set them down on the dresser and closed the door, then offered him one dish.
He stared at it, no idea what it was, and raised his eyes to hers, uncertain.
She put some on a spoon and held it to his lips.
He ate it, tasting it slowly, carefully. He might never admit it, but it was clear in his expression that he liked it very much.
Slowly she fed him the rest, then ate her own. She had a ridiculous feeling of success, as if she had won a great prize. She looked forward to making something else for him.
'Is that wot yer feed soldiers when they're 'urt?' he asked.
'If we have the supplies, yes,' she replied. 'Depends where we're fighting. It can be hard to get things over great distances.'
'Wot kind o' things? Yer gotter 'ave food. D'yer 'ave guns an' things too?'
'Yes, and ammunition, and medical supplies, and more boots and clothes. All kinds of things.' Then she elaborated on army life, and he sat with his eyes never leaving hers. They were still talking when Monk came back in the late afternoon.
He came up to the room quietly. He looked exhausted, but the moment he saw Scuff sitting up against the pillow he smiled.
Hester rose, anxious for him now. It was already darkening outside, and he was spattered with rain even after having taken his coat off downstairs.
'Are you hungry?' she asked gently, trying to read from his face what he needed most.
'Yes,' he answered, as if surprised by it. 'Rathbone thinks they may all be convicted, including Sixsmith.'
'I'm sorry,' she said sincerely.
'Navvies' evidence,' he explained. 'Perhaps we shouldn't have started this, but it's too late to undo it now.'
'What about tomorrow?'
'More navvies, clerks, people who probably had no idea of any of it,' he answered. 'Let's eat. I've done all I can. Are you hungry, Scuff?'
Scuff nodded. 'Yeah, I am.'
ELEVEN
By the time Monk returned home to Paradise Street after the following day's court, it was dark and raining again. The gutters were awash, slopping over onto the cobbles. The reflections from the lamps danced on wet stone, and the clatter of hooves was broken by splashing. The cold wind coming up from the river carried wreaths of mist that stretched out, wrapped around trees and even houses, then elongated and disappeared again.
Inside, the house was warm. The kitchen smelled of new bread, clean linen, and something savory. Hester greeted him at the door.
'He's fine,' she said before he asked.
He smiled as the sweetness of it soaked into him.
'He's been asleep on and off,' she went on. 'He looks a lot better.'
He held her close, kissing her mouth, then her cheek and eyes and hair, allowing the rest of the world to be closed out for a few precious minutes. Then he went upstairs to change into dry clothes and to see Scuff.
'How are you?' he asked.
Scuff stirred and sat up very slowly, blinking a little. He seemed uncertain how to answer.
'Are you worse?' Monk said anxiously.
Scuff grinned lopsidedly. 'It 'urts like bleedin' 'eck,' he said frankly. 'But that egg stuff as she makes is real good. D'yer know some o' 'em places she's bin?' His eyes were huge with amazement and more admiration than he was probably aware of. 'I in't never 'eard o' some o' 'em!'
'Neither have I,' Monk conceded, coming in and sitting on the edge of the bed.
'She told me 'bout wot she done in the army an' such.'
'Me too, now and then. She doesn't talk about it a lot.'
'Sad, eh? All 'em men 'urt bad.' Scuff frowned. 'Lot o' ' em died. She din't say so, but I reckon as they did.'
'Yes, I reckon so, too. Are you hungry?'
'Yeah. Are you?'
'Yes.'
Scuff tried to climb over to the edge of the bed, as if he would come downstairs to eat.
'No!' Monk said sharply. 'I'll bring it up to you!'
'Yer don't 'ave ter,' Scuff began.
'I'd rather carry the supper up than have to carry you again,' Monk told him dryly. 'Stay where you are!'
Scuff subsided and inched back to the center again. He lay against the pillow, watching Monk.
'Please don't fall out,' Monk said more gently. 'You'll hurt yourself worse.'
Scuff said nothing, but he did not move again.
They were all three of them in the bedroom, halfway through eating, when the interruption came. Hester was cutting up vegetables for Scuff and letting him pick them up with a fork. He did it carefully, uncertain at first how to manage. Monk was eating steak and kidney pie with a vigorous appetite. Suddenly there was a loud knocking on the door, again and again, almost as if someone were trying to break in.
Monk put his plate on the tray, the last mouthful uneaten, and went downstairs to find out what it was.
Orme stood on the step in the rain, his hair plastered to his head, his face white. He did not wait for Monk to ask what it was, nor did he attempt to come in.
'There's bin a cave-in,' he said hoarsely. 'Down at the Argyll tunnel. The 'ole lot. It all came in and God knows 'ow many men's buried.'
It was what James Havilland had feared, and Monk would have given everything he owned not to have had him proved right. 'Do they know what caused it?' he asked, his voice shaking. Even his hand on the door felt cold and somehow disembodied.
'Not yet,' Orme said, ignoring the rain dripping down his face. 'Suddenly the 'ole side just slid in, wi' water be'ind it, like a river. An' then 'bout fifty yards further up the line 'nother lot went. I'm goin' back there, sir, ter see if I can 'elp. Although God knows if anyone can.'
'Another slide? That means there are men trapped between the two? Is there any sewage down there?'
'Dunno, Mr. Monk. Depends on wot it were that slid. It's close ter one o' the old sewers as is still used. Could be. I know wot yer thinking- gas…' He did not finish.
'I'll come with you.' There was no question of what he must do. 'Come in out of the rain while I tell my wife.' He left the door open and went up the stairs two at a time.
Hester was standing in the bedroom doorway, Scuff sitting up on the bed behind her. Both of them had heard Orme's voice and caught the sound of fear in it.
'There's been a cave-in. I have to go,' he told her.
'Injuries? Can-' She stopped.
He gave her a quick smile. 'No. Your place is here with Scuff.' He kissed her quickly, harder perhaps than he meant to. Then he turned and went back down the stairs again, took his coat from the hook in the hall, and
