The Artful Dodger

Chapter 5

That day, Dodger had been given the role of looking after Oliver, who was younger and didn't know the ways of pickpocketing like the rest of the boys. He was waiting in the doorway for the Dodger, cold and wet. The rain fell consistently and soaked everyone on their way to the market. The cobbles were slippery in the alleyways, so they were glad to get to the market. This was where the boys diverted. Davy, Paul and Charley walked along a side road to the next square along, while Dodger grabbed Oliver and yanked him along. The other boys wandered off, blending with the crowd of umbrellas and mackintoshes.

Suddenly, the Dodger spotted who he was looking for.

"Oliver, see that girl yonder?"

Oliver nodded and said, "Yes, I do. She's very pretty."

Dodger gave Oliver a sidelong glance as if to warn him away but then strode over to her very confidently. He lifted his cap and bowed like he had seen the upper classes do. Then he quickly put his hat back on when he realised that his hair was getting even wetter from the relentless rain.

"Good day, beautiful! This feller here is my young charge, Oliver Twist. Oliver, Rose, Rose, Oliver."

Oliver and Rose looked at each other smiling. She tossed her wet hair, and held him out a flower, which Oliver accepted. Then they started to chat rapidly. Dodger tried to join the conversation but failed because they seemed to be in their own, personal bubble which excluded him. Therefore he stalked off sourly, kicking a pebble along the cobbles and through the puddles.

"Damn those windy-wallets, stupid hell-bugs they are, there's no doubt about it-"

Then Dodger stopped, spying an opportunity. A rich man was walking around, a dainty girl on his arm and an umbrella in his other hand. They both seemed faintly nauseated, as if the area disgusted them. As the stopped at a stall, Dodger walked carefully behind, began to ease out the wallet, and then he saw it.

Oliver leaned in and pecked Rose on the cheek. It lasted less than a second, but time slowed around Dodger. He kept replaying the moment in his mind. Jack Dawkins slipped in shock which was unlike himself, and yanked the wallet too hard. The man turned around, as Dodger began to run.

"Stop him! He's got my wallet!"

The market came alive; yelling and shouting came from all corners and it seemed that every single person had set chase upon him. But Dodger was nimble and agile. He ducked under a stall unseen, squatting over a puddle, and everyone, having lost sight of him, seemed to return to their jobs.

Dodger sat there for a good hour, scared to leave in case anyone recognised him. He spent the time counting the money. It was an awful lot, and he felt a pang of jealousy towards Fagin. The man did nothing but wait for the boys to provide him with luxuries, he thought. Yes, he did look after them but as Charley Bates would put it, the food was bad and the 'sausages were mouldy'. Dodger knew that Fagin could afford a lot more for the boys. But his persevering loyalty to the man who had rescued him from the streets when he was a young boy had always prevented him from complaining too much. However, the discovery of the fact that Fagin made people spy on him had lessened his affections, and he was beginning to consider leaving.

The Dodger peered out to see if it was safe to emerge from his hiding place, then saw one of the boys, Davy sneaking past. Davy came third to Dodger and Charley in terms of output and skill, so he was very valued by Fagin, as well as being one of the Dodger's best friends.

The Artful crawled out from the stall, concealing the wallet in his blue waistcoat. No one seemed to recognise him. He strode up to Davy.

"Oi Dodge, I saw you gettin' chased by them bobby-trotters. Someone's gunna recognise yer, we should get back to old Fagin now. Get anythin'?" said Davy.

"Yeah, got a wallet. Pretty full wouldn't you say?" said Dodger, unclasping the leather purse and showing it to Davy as they entered the allies near their home.

"My lord! There's gotta be fifteen pounds in there, Dodge!"

"Fourteen pounds two shillin's."

Davy looked at Dodger in admiration- he had never seen that much money brought back to the den!

Evidently, Fagin felt the same way. He celebrated. He kissed the wallet, he danced around the room wildly, he sang songs, he even performed some intricate gymnastics- though the boys were quite sure they heard some loud cracks from his spine.

"Dodger, oh Dodger, what would I do without yer? For a treat boys, one extra sausage- each!"

The boys cheered, but as usual, Charley's thin voice could be heard saying:

"Better not be mouldy!"

Then Fagin stopped dancing. He looked around, studying each boy's face. He reached Dodger's.

"Someone's missing... where's Oliver?"

The room fell silent.

"Well the answer to that is I don't know," Dodger lied, hoping Fagin wouldn't notice his red face.

"Dodger, you know. Is he with that girl? Did you let him get caught? ANSWER ME!" Fagin lifted a hand and struck the Dodger full across the face. He fell back onto the ground.

"No! I don't know! I nearly got caught, I wasn't payin' attention to Oliver!"

"That's it, boy, you're not going out- or eating- until you tell me," said Fagin angrily. He grabbed Dodger's arm and threw him into the cold room that used to be the toilet- the boys called it the cell. Fagin slammed the door and locked it with a brass key while the captive stood up and tried to peer through the small window. He was too short.

"Sir, why d'yer mind so? I don't know and it don't matter! It's only Oliver!"

Dodger could almost feel the anger emanating from Fagin.

"I need ter know! He could be anywhere- what if he's tellin' our secrets? Last time 'e went away we got 'im back, we need to fetch him again." Fagin growled irately and walked away from the door.

"Boys- don't gi' him any food and don't yer dare try to talk to him! I'm goin' to meet Bill at the pub. Davy, you're in charge."