You watch Earl out of the corner of your eye. He is weaving his way through the crowd, oily and unnoticed, scanning people up and down, searching for a suitable target – someone rich, unaccompanied, and not particularly strong.
In Earl’s hand is a little tin of snuff – a fine, light-brown powder made from tobacco leaves. People snort it directly into their noses rather than burning it in a pipe. Earl let you smell a pinch of it during your training, and it felt like weevils were clawing their way up your nostrils. You sneezed violently for a good half-hour afterwards. You don’t envy the person who’s about to have a whole tin of it thrown in their face.
A fleeting smile twists the corner of Earl’s mouth. He moves purposefully towards a lady with a wicker basket hanging over one arm, who is inspecting a barrow of oranges. You duck in a wide arc through the crowd, to get to the other side of the barrow, ready to be in a perfect position to ‘assist’ the lady when Earl strikes. She has pink, fat cheeks and pearl buttons on her blouse.
It’s all right, ma’am, you think to yourself. Earl and I aren’t going to hurt you – just make your pockets a little lighter.
Your hands are sweating. You mentally run through what Miriam told you: Your right hand’s to distract them – brush the snuff away, pat their back, offer a hanky. Your left hand’s to do the work – first check their bags; then their outside pockets, left and right; and finally their coat’s inner pocket. And you’ll talk all the while. Don’t stop talking.
Earl opens his tin as if to pinch some snuff for himself, then trips theatrically. He showers the lady in snuff, and manages to knock over the orange barrow for good measure.
You are stumbling through the rolling oranges, trying to get to the shrieking lady. Already Earl has vanished. The lady is coughing and retching, sneezing and gasping, flailing around like a swarm of bees is after her.
You hurry to her side, but she swats at you as you try to offer your help. In the end, you have to shout to offer your assistance: ‘Let me help you, ma’am!’ She doesn’t seem at all grateful.
‘Wretched sod – catch him!’ she shouts.
You think maybe Earl underestimated this lady. In all the scenarios you’ve practised, the ‘victim’ (Earl or Miriam) would gratefully and docilely accept your assistance. This is not going at all to plan.
You persevere, brushing at the snuff on the lady’s jacket – but real snuff was never used when you practised, so when you accidentally breathe in a cloud of it, you are absolutely unprepared. You explode into a volley of violent sneezes.
Part of you wants to give up and get out of here now, even if it will earn you a beating from Miriam. But you stubbornly and clumsily persist, your right hand offering a hanky while your left hand digs around in the lady’s basket until it feels the metal clasp of a coin-purse. Success!
As you lift the purse from the basket, you hear the fruit-seller shout, ‘Oi!’ and point a finger at you. You run, trying to disappear swiftly into the crowd like Earl did, but the fruit-seller is fast and strong. Moments later, he has you by the arm, and you’re done for.
You wriggle futilely as he says to the lady, ‘There are all kinds of scum pulling tricks on the streets of London these days, ma’am. But don’t worry – this one won’t get away with it. Constable!’
In this matter you have no choice. Go to scene 12.
You pretend to go along with Miriam and Earl’s plans, but secretly, you are planning to dash off as soon as you have the chance. You will run all day and night if need be, and the next and the next, until you find your da’s prison ship. You just want to talk to him, to see his face, and to give him your word that you haven’t forgotten him.
Of course, you think, he won’t know about Ma yet. I’ll have to tell him. Your heart sinks.
You are in the thieves’ den. Miriam is forcefully brushing your hair, trying to tame you into a picture of innocence – a well-bred child no one would suspect of pickpocketing, ready for your first day of work for her. Your face is cleaner than it has been in weeks, and you’re wearing a sky-blue dress, a lovely red coat, and real leather shoes that Miriam has managed to snaffle from somewhere. You imagine your da’s proud, astonished face when you greet him wearing this perfect outfit.
Your jewelled bracelet is still in your petticoat hem. You’re so glad you’ve managed to keep it hidden from Miriam.
You pray Earl isn’t fast on his feet. You don’t expect he will be, as he’s so bony and hunched. You don’t have to worry about Miriam chasing you – she’s told you she’ll stay here, awaiting your return with riches for her.
When the time comes to leave, Earl walks closely beside you until you reach the edge of a bustling marketplace.
‘I’ll take a while to choose the right one,’ he hisses in your ear. ‘Some nice easy pickings for starters. Watch me, and stay nearby, but not so near as anyone’d spot we’re together. You have to be first on the scene to help once I’ve thrown the snuff. Got it?’
You nod, your heart pounding. The market is a scene of happy, industrious chaos: newspaper-boys shouting the day’s news; peddlers with pushcarts selling everything from candles to rat poison; stalls piled high with turnips and greens.
Earl slips away through the crowd, like a hot knife through butter. You are surprised at how agile he suddenly seems. You want to wait till he’s a
