The Artful Dodger

Chapter 13

The sun began to sink in the sky, sending orange clouds scuttling across the horizon behind St Paul's Cathedral. This sunset was beautiful. Whorls of pink were dotted delicately in the sky and the Dodger nudged Rose.

"Take a look." he said.

Rose raised her eyes to the sky in wonder.

"It's beautiful. If only Peter could see this." she whispered, tears still running down her cheeks.

Dodger nodded and grabbed her hand. They both stared at the sky until it became dark, and he asked her one final time if she wanted to come inside.

"You know I don't. I'm not coming in ever again," she said stubbornly and shuffled into the corner near the steps, "I'm sleeping right here."

"Well I'm sleeping there too then. It ain't safe!" said Dodger and sat next to her. At that moment Charley Bates, looking very upset, opened the door.

"You coming in?" he said.

"Never!" said Rose.

Charley shook his head, fresh tears appearing, and closed the door again. Rose and Dodger began to settle down, and eventually settled into a light sleep.

The night passed, and the day was dawning crisp and clear. The atmosphere was one of misery, and both Rose and Dodger were thoroughly frozen from spending the night outside.

"Rose? Are you okay?" asked Dodger, not expecting a reply. He didn't get one.

Minutes after this failed encounter, Paul Birling came out of the large doorway.

"Dodger, Rose, Fagin says we can all go to the 'anging to warn us not ter get caught. But we gotta pick a few pockets while we're there!" he said.

"Sure, Paul. When we leavin'?"

"Right about now, Davy an' Charley are comin' out. An' look, the rest as well. Right shame, innit? Peter seemed like a good pickpocket, coulda been as good as yer! By the way, did you really sleep out here? My uncle would have you in bed with a hot brick by now! Could catch your death of cold!"

"Paul, we know your uncle was a doctor. That doesn't mean you need to talk about it all the time!" said Dodger, exasperated.

"Rude!" said Paul, feigning offence.

However, the Dodger wasn't listening to Paul anymore. His head was spinning. It was all his fault, he had decided. If he had never agreed to bring back Oliver and Rose to Fagin, all this wouldn't have happened. If he had succeeded in running away with Nancy? Peter would be free. If he hadn't got locked up and Nancy hadn't brought him food? Mike Smith, their father would still be alive. It was his fault, for being in the market and meeting Rose that day. All his fault. And he did not need reminding from anybody- his mind was already tortured enough.

The door opened again, and more of the boys, including Oliver, came out of the den and helped Rose up.

"Are you sure you should come?" Oliver asked, with a furrowed brow and an air of concern.

Rose nodded weakly, and started to walk with Dodger and Oliver, with Paul, Davy and Charley trailing behind. A few other boys dangled much further back, Rose had never bothered to lean their names. Dodger was trying to cheer her up despite the weight of guilt in his chest, but nothing worked. However, Oliver only had to whisper something to her, and just a few words made her smile. Dodger scowled, annoyed that he couldn't make his own girlfriend happy. What was Oliver saying?

The walk was a short one, for the prison where hangings were usually carried out was only about fifteen minutes away. Newgate.

The boys began to quieten as they drew up to Newgate Prison, which was near to the Old Bailey, only five minutes from St Paul's Cathedral.