One Penny Surprise (Saved By Desire 1)

Peter warning that she should use it for herself and not allow Clarence to get his hands on it still rang in her ears. At the time, the harshness in her normally mild-mannered cousin’s instruction had alarmed her. She had nodded her agreement without thinking because she had not wanted to offend him while he was willing to help her. Although she had never asked either Clarence, or Peter outright, she wondered what Clarence had done to her cousin to bring about such acrimony, but then at the moment had enough problems of her own without probing into historic discord. Whatever had gone on between the two of them, deep inside she knew she should heed Peter’s rather ebullient order.

She felt a little guilty that the right amount wasn’t in the bag she was about to hand over to the stranger she was going to meet anyway. At some point Clarence was going to find out and then all Hell will be let loose. He would almost certainly try to bully her into going back to Peter’s for more money, and that was something she was definitely not going to do.

“I need to take the money and run,” she whispered defiantly, echoing Peter’s exact words to her. Still, she kept walking, more out of curiosity than anything else. She wanted to see this creditor and tell them that Clarence wasn’t prepared to pay the cash. With the money in her hand to provide for her, it didn’t matter if she couldn’t go back to the hovel, so long as she had something to rely on.

“Thankfully,” she muttered several minutes later when it quickly became evident that her instincts were right and the narrow, winding river suddenly appeared through the trees a few feet ahead.

The note hadn’t said where ‘by the river’ exactly, so the best thing she could do was pick a spot and wait. After all, it wasn’t as if anyone could miss her. She was a single woman all alone in the middle of a vast and empty park at a time when most civilised people were still tucked up in their beds. Her mystery assignation would be a fine imbecile indeed if he walked right past her.

“Now what?” she whispered as she stared at the mist that hovered over everything. The smog had fallen thickly last night and still lingered hauntingly over the city this morning. It gave the air an almost expectant feel that just heightened her nerves and made her tremble even more.

Willing herself to remain as calm as possible, she clutched her bag tighter and studied the river. Was she standing on the right side of it? The bank opposite was exactly the same. The idiot who had sent the note hadn’t been all that specific about where to meet exactly so, as far as she was concerned, if anyone had the wrong side, the wrong place etc., it was him.

“He can come to me now,” she groused, hoping that nobody was nearby to overhear her talking to herself.

“Give us a penny, missus,” a small voice suddenly demanded from somewhere in the region of her knees.

Poppy cried out in shock and turned to glare down at the owner of the small voice. Her fingers tightened instinctively on the handle of her bag as she studied the grubby street urchin peering up at her. There was something shifty in those small dark eyes, embellished by an unrepentant grin. Alarm bells rang within her and she took a wary step backward. Something was wrong, she just knew it.

Glancing down the path, she spied something she most definitely didn’t want to see; more of them, and they all appeared to be waiting for their cohort who was now edging closer to her with one eye on her precious bag.

Pick-pockets – great, she sighed.

She didn’t realise they were so blatant in London as to approach people in broad daylight and actually ask for money, but if they suspected her to be an easy target then they were seriously mistaken.

“I don’t have one,” she snapped harshly. She added a glare to her statement when the youngster didn’t appear altogether too perturbed at the refusal. She then lifted her brows snootily to peer down at him – or her - when they merely grinned wider and stayed put. There was so much grime on that oval face beneath the tousled mop of scraggly hair that hadn’t seen a brush for a long time that it was incredibly difficult to tell whether it was a boy or a girl. Either way, they didn’t appear to accept that she wasn’t going to give him – or her – any of her precious supply of money.

“You must ‘av,” the youngster challenged. “What, a nice lady like you, able to dress like that. You must ‘av a penny somewhere on ya.”

Poppy shook her head and sighed. “I said I don’t have one on me.” Her voice dropped several notches in warning but she suspected the youngster wasn’t going to pay the slightest bit of attention. Not when he had several older pick-pockets watching him – or her - and his – or her - credibility was at risk.

“What’s your name?” she asked, hoping to get the urchin’s mind off money.

The youngster shrugged. “I ain’t gonna tell you,” he - or she - chimed.

“So don’t ask me for money, whoever you are,” she replied calmly but firmly. “Go and tell your friends that too.”

She watched the urchin turn around and throw a grin at his friends and wondered whether she should just hit him – or her – with her bag. Unfortunately, the group of youngsters standing just beside the trees were young and lithe. She suspected they would be able to run faster than she could, even if she was prepared to challenge one directly. She had heard of pick-pockets but had never come across one before, mainly because they didn’t tend to inhabit the wilds of Cumbria. Still, although she didn’t hail from London, that didn’t mean she was rich pickings for vagabond children.

The grubby urchin pointed toward the bag in her hand. “What’s that then?”

Poppy clutched the bag tighter. “My clothes,” she lied in a voice that shook a little through a mixture of nerves and cold. “What’s it to you?”

The urchin considered this for a few moments and then shrugged. “I’ll ‘av summat outta that then.”

“You will not,” Poppy snorted, clutching the bag to her chest. “Now, go away.”

Aware of movement along the path, she looked up and heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of a tall, distinguished gentleman sauntering casually toward her.

“Give us a penny then,” the youngster persisted.

“I take it from the tone of your voice girl, that your father doesn’t know where you are or what you are doing?” Poppy demanded, hoping to delay the inevitable until the man drew closer and distracted the youngster. With the man’s protection, they wouldn’t attack – would they?

“I ain’t no girl,” the boy protested, clearly outraged at the misunderstanding.

“Oh, you sound like a girl,” Poppy challenged.

“No, I do not,” the boy cried loudly. “I ain’t no girl.”