The Jack Hansard Series: Season Two

Episode 2.1

When I was just a plentyn – a wee child – my first job in the mine was trapper-watchin'. That's watchin' the trappers, them kids who held the doors open for the minecarts. Powerful dangerous job, it was. For the trappers, that is, not me. As a coblyn, I knows the dark ways of a mine better than any human could.

What?

You was expecting the other bloke, was ye?

Classic bait 'n' switch, as me Partner would say. That's Partner with a capital P, on account o'it being official now. Hansard gave me equal rights to his business, such as it is, and I intends to keep it equal. Even if he won't let me have a go at the drivin'. (Dunno what he's so het up about, I only asked to turn the wheel that once. We survived, din't we?)

Anyway, trappers. Scared little buggers, all of 'em. Just old enough to hold a candle and pull a lever or tug a cord. The doors open, the air rushes past, lettin' the whole mine breathe, and a hurrier comes through wi' his tub. Or her tub. I remember back as when women were as common as their husbands in the deep dark, hauling coal and lugging clay.

'Ang! Are you even listening to me?'

That be Hansard, packin' up the table under this here derelict aqueduct. He was spoutin' some gaff as usual, about the art of the sale or somesuch.

'Am listenin', gwas,' I says. I ain't. Am too busy staring across the street. ''ere, gwas. What're them kiddies up to, y'reckon?'

He gives 'em a look. Boy 'an a girl. The lad's real young, maybe seven or eight, but she's got the look of age about her that comes with being too young for how old ye feel. I seen that look before. Bet she's scarce seen a decade, but by her eyes ye'd be forgiven for thinking she was nearing her second.

'What about them?' Hansard says. I rolls my eyes. Twpsyn.

'Look at 'em. Skin and bone wi' carrier bags, is what they are.'

He squints at 'em. He can see as well as I. They're done up in big puffy coats, but the faces're gaunt and sallow. They carry plastic bags what look to be holding blankets, and mebbe an old teddy stuffed in there as well. Also, they're starin' right back at us.

'Looks like they be in need of a kind hand?' says I, patience embodied.

'Don't think I have any of those. A cursed hand, now, maybe I could do you a deal on.'

'Stop tryn'a call that shrivelled monkey foot a cursed hand. No one's buyin' it. Lit'rally.'

'It's a paw, actually. And I'll have you know that cursed items sell very well.' He waves the dirty thing at me, then puts it back in its box. 'Anyway, we're not hanging around.'

'Thought we was campin' here, gwas.'

'No-o.' His eyes flick to the kiddies, and then to some mess of cardboard and other rubbish tucked by the wall under our arch. 'I think we'll be on our way. Don't wish to intrude.'

I stares at the pile o' rubbish while Hansard packs the rest of his own rubbish into the car boot. There's a grubby pillow and some empty sweet wrappers, laid on what some might fancifully call a bed o' newspaper an' boxes.

I looks back at the kiddies, and it seems like they're waitin' on us.

The boot snaps shut. Hansard dusts his hands.

'Right, all done. No thanks to you, I might add. Shall we be off?'

'I know you din't just say that,' I says quietly.

'What?'

'I think ye meant to say, "Why don't we buy dinner for them unfortunates across the road?" Come t'think of it, I reckon that is what you said.'

'You're not serious.'

'I know you ain't leavin' them kiddies to fend for themselves on the streets tonight. I know you ain't, because although you ain't honest, you also ain't bad. 'Tis gettin' rotten cold an' all.'

He pinches the bridge of his nose. I've struck a nerve, sure enough.

'Ang, my moral inclination is neither here nor there on this matter. The fact, the actual fact of the matter is that we barely made twenty quid today, so at present I'm doubtful we have enough funds to cover our own dinner, let alone the endless stream of pastries you consume, and more importantly it still doesn't buy us enough fuel to leave this wretched little town behind, and I thought we'd agreed we were going to– What are you doing?'

I was stridin' across the road, is what I was doing. The lass, she eyes me right up while the little lad shrinks behind her. O' course, I ain't all that tall by human standards, so when I reach 'em she's actually eyein' me right down.

'Hello,' I says kindly, from about a yard away. 'What're you kiddies doin' out so late? Do ye need help finding a way home?'

'Fuck off.'

Hansard sniggers behind me.

Pentwp. For a man so cunning, he can be half blind when he wills it. Then again, mebbe he just ain't familiar with that kind of expression on a face so young.

But me, I seen eyes like hers before.

I takes a step forwards. 'No need fer that language. We ain't gunna hurt yer, and we ain't gunna take you anywhere ye don't want t'go. My life on it. And his, though I can't say it counts for as much. All I'm offerin' is a hot meal and mebbe a warm place to sleep if you wants it.'

Hansard snorts and mutters, 'With what money?' but it ain't important so I let 'im fuss.

'My name's Ang,' I says, stretching up my hand to the girl.

She takes a hard look at it. Worn hands, mine are. Real working hands, with cracked nails and dirt so deep in the creases that it ain't never washin' out. Slender, too, on account o' bein' a not-quite-three-foot coblyn.

'Why're you so small?' she says at last.

I shrug. 'It's how I am. Why're you so tall?'

This passes muster. Children are often smarter than adults. They can see the world in an uncomplicated way.

She grasps my hand. 'I'm Sable,' she says. 'This is Buck.'

'Ye brother?' They don't look related. Her skin is a rich, warm brown; his is pale and freckled. Them's surface looks, though. What counts is deeper.

'He might as well be,' is what she replies. 'Who's he, then?' She thrusts her chin at Hansard.

'That's me business partner, name o' Jack.' I smile a mite wickedly. 'Ye can call him Uncle J.'

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Author's Note

You guys, I love writing in Ang's voice SO much. I'm pretty biased though, so I need you to tell me what YOU think about it.

Love it? Hate it? Tell me now or it'll happen again. =P