The Artful Dodger

Chapter 19

Meanwhile, Dodger had woken up and could hear miserable sniffling coming from the furthest bed behind the curtains. He knew who it was, so he slipped out of his warm bed, trying not to disturb any of the other sleeping boys. He rustled the curtain to alert her of his presence, and she gasped in shock then whispered.

"Peter? Is that you?"

The Artful froze in shock.

"It's me! Jack!"

"Peter? Where are you?" she said, sounding panicked.

He opened the curtain and entered. As he had suspected, she was asleep. Crying into her pillow through her closed eyelids, she looked like she was conscious, but from her behaviour he assumed that she was not. He gently shook her to awake her, and she awoke very quickly.

"Dodger? What?" she said.

"You were crying, an' saying things, so I came ter check on yer." he said awkwardly, fidgeting under her stare. He was wearing only his vest and vertical striped trousers, being devoid of his usual layered waistcoats.

"Oh. What was I saying?" she said wearily, having eyed him up and down several times.

"Um... Peter..." said the Artful Dodger, flushing red, realising how he looked disturbing her in her sleep for a reason that she did not remember, "I wasn't... honestly, you were cryin'..."

"I believe you." Rose said as she felt her pillow, which was damp, "But I'm okay. Only a dream."

"Oh Rose. You should've told me yer were still upset, I could've 'elped." said the Dodger, sitting on her bed gently.

"I'm fine... well no, I'm not, but it's my problem, Jack. You don't need to get involved."

The Dodger leaned back onto his elbows, seeing that he'd have to persuade her to trust him again.

"Rose, I'm always 'ere for you," he said, suddenly awkward. This was not the kind of situation he was used to.

"That's fine, but I don't need you." she felt horrible as soon as these words left her lips. Dodger sat up, hurt.

"Awrite then, get Oliver ter comfort you! Or John, George's brother! I'm wastin' my time 'ere, I can see!" he said in an angry whisper, standing up suddenly and leaving the small curtained area. Rose tried to call him back but it was too late and he had already returned to his own bed. Groaning, Rose reflected on the fact that she never seemed to say the right thing. She felt as if she should say sorry, but she was sure he would not accept the apology, so she did not get up. Scared to sleep and have more nightmares, she lay motionless all night, staring at the dirty ceiling and faded curtains.

After what seemed like years, the sun began to cast dusty patterns across the beams, illuminating the cobwebs and niches in the attic roof. Rose sat up wearily and got out of her bed, seeing that an apology was worth a try. However, he was sleeping peacefully with the other boys and she did not want to disturb him. Turning to go back to bed, she noticed a bright pair of eyes looking at her. Short blond curls lay across his pillow, and his small cap was hung beside him on a nail.

"Oliver."

"Rose," he smiled, "good sleep?"

Rose shook her head.

"No, awake most of the night, I had a dream... no, it doesn't matter." she said trailing off.

"Rose? You can tell me." Oliver spoke gently, sitting up.

"I've been told that, I know I can. It's just the same with you and Dodger, I don't want to talk about it. I'm fine, Oliver, but I do appreciate your help."