Nine Shillings

Spice Pirates

London - 1842

After tea and cake the children sat cross-legged on the rug listening to Atticus tell stories about his parents travelling the world battling spice pirates, dragons, and all manner of magical creatures. He didn't appear to mind when Mary went off on a long tangent about why spice pirates would steal spice, not gold, and the children decided they really liked cooking.

Veronica was sitting in an armchair sewing and Millie was reading a book on card games. I was snuggled into Bran's side with my fingers tangled in his hair. Josef was lying on the couch with his head on my lap and my hand in his shirt.

It was nice having some quiet family time.

Edward got up from his place beside Mary, toddled over to us and clambered onto Bran's lap to burrow into his chest. 'Space pirates scary, Papa.'

'Spice pirates, silly. They eat spices, not moon cheese,' Mary said with all the authority of 'almost six'.

'Do you think the black bits are where space pirates nibbled it?' Merry asked.

'No, sometimes God needs a snack.'

Merry plucked at Patches' scarf thoughtfully. 'Wouldn't heaven have biscuits?'

'Cheese biscuits,' Mary said.

Merry nodded.

'Don't like cheese,' Edward said, peeking out from behind Rawr and the bunker of Bran's arms. 'Stinky.'

Mary turned round. 'Like what?'

Edward thought about this for a moment. 'Cheese.'

Atticus grinned in a poorly disguised attempt not to laugh and Millie coughed. Veronica paid no mind; it was no different from any day in her classroom.

Mary helped herself to a place on Atticus' lap and he stared at her in surprise. There was no reason for her to think she shouldn't be climbing on visitor's laps when she could climb on every other adult in the house. 'Now, Uncle Atti, you not gotted this story right. Everyone knows mummies slay the monsters.'

'Uncle?' he asked, he'd accepted Atti as a substitute for Atticus when it became clear Edward couldn't make it to the end of his name.

''Cause I'm sweet.' She gave him her biggest 'sweet' smiled. 'See?' She gestured at her smile. 'You want t'give me biscuits, don't you?'

'I... I don't have any biscuits,' Atticus said.

'If you haven't got biscuits, how will you give me a biscuit and pat me on the head and tell me I'm sweet?' She frowned. 'I don't want be patted on the head and told I'm sweet but I'd like biscuit, please?'

'I still haven't got biscuits.'

'But I said "please", if I say "please" you got give me biscuits. It's rules.'

'I'll bring extra biscuits next time.'

'Good.' Mary nodded. 'Ginger biscuits are best.'

'Moon bikits,' Edward said.

The door opened and Mrs Stapleton came in. Veronica fidgeted and scowled at her sewing. Mrs Stapleton looked at everyone, except Veronica. I glanced between them.

'A boy to see you, Miss,' Mrs Stapleton said. 'I put him in the kitchen and gave him some food.'

It was tempting to ask if she'd told him he needed a bath but children were immune to Mrs Stapleton's disapproval of everyone and everything. Even Atticus, still the midst of a discussion on biscuits, got a disapproving look as if it was unreasonable for an adult not to carry biscuits about their person for children. Mary had forgot about getting biscuits and was trying to explain to Atticus moon bikits weren't cheese biscuits.

The boy was John, the newspaper seller from the corner. He'd brought a new coat and the sleeves so long they were at risk of falling in his stew, from the look of the cuffs it wouldn't be their first food encounter. He didn't pay me any mind until I sat down opposite him and he gave me a cursory look to check I wasn't about to steal his food.

'What can I do for you, Little John?' I asked.

'Little?'

'I know another John who runs a pub.'

He scowled and tugged up the sleeves of his new coat. 'I got something for you, missus, but it'll cost.'

'It always does,' I said. 'But if you don't tell me what it is you won't get paid.'

'It's a picture.'

'Of?'

'The person what's been killing the ladies.'

I fished a small wrap from inside my corset and gave him a guinea.

He took the coin and examined it. 'I told 'em you were good for it.' He exchanged the coin for a grubby piece of paper from his jacket. 'That's who it is.'

The sketch was of the head and shoulders of a hooded figure, the face was hidden in shadow. 'You've given me a picture of The Reaper.'

'Could be The Reaper's the one,' he said around a mouthful of bread. 'Rumour has it they're magic so's we're all keeping out their way but...' He leaned forward. 'Our Becky reckons this whoever came right up to her, grabbed her, and looked right at her, thought she was a goner she did. Then they let her go.' He sat back and waved his arms making his sleeves flap. 'Just like that.'

'That all?'

'Ain't rightly going to stand round chatting.' He shrugged.

'I might need a word with your Becky.'

He mopped up the last of his stew with the bread. 'Aw, that's good stew. Can I have more?'

Mrs Stapleton took his bowl and ladled in another large portion, a child never went hungry when she was around. I wished I'd had a Mrs Stapleton around when I was a child. We'd come to an uneasy truce but she still didn't trust me, having met Elizabeth I couldn't blame her.

'Introduce me to your Becky and there's more stew in it for you.' I smiled. 'And money, naturally.'

'Thank you, missus.'

'Enjoy your stew,' I said and Mrs Stapleton handed me the open biscuit jar.

By the time I got back to the library Edward was sitting on Josef's chest poking his face with Rawr and saying, 'rawr, rawr,' in between squealing when Josef tickled him saying, 'tickle, tickle'. Atticus had finished his story and it was time for him to go but Mary had attached herself to him.

'One more story,' she said, tugging at Atticus' hand. 'Please.'

'I'm sure Atticus will tell you another story next time,' Bran said, carefully disengaging her from Atticus.

'Pappy, I want more stories,' she sobbed and wrapped her arms around Bran's neck.

'We'll tell you some stories.' He lifted her up and I passed him the biscuit jar. 'You're just tired, aren't you?'

'No,' she snapped and shoved a biscuit in her mouth.

Merry hugged them both. 'Don't cry, Mare Bear.'

Atticus glanced at me for an escape route, crying children could be scary.

'I'll show you out.' I gestured for him to follow me, in the hall I asked, 'Is this the point in the play where we share a moment and become friends for life?'

'I think that's how it works,' he replied.

We paused as I handed him his coat and hat and he put them on.

'Nice moment,' I said. 'Very heartfelt.'

He nodded. 'I have deep distrustful feelings for you.'

'Aw, sweet of you.' I opened the door for him.

He touched the brim of his hat and left. A moment later Edward joined in Mary's symphony of sobs. It looked like a quiet afternoon was going to turn into a noisy evening.