Ikey opened his arms wide, palms outwards, and looked down at his chest in surprise. He had always assumed himself totally disguised in his long coat with his wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his forehead. 'I'm as invisible as the very night itself, my dear,' he said, clearly bemused at Bob Marley's uncharitable remark.
'Quite right! Invisible as the bleedin'
'arvest moon on Chatham Common.' Bob Marley pointed at Ikey's coat. 'Take your'n orf and put mine on.' Then removing his battered top hat he retrieved a cloth cap from within it and placed this upon his own head. Removing Ikey's hat, he dropped it gingerly to the floor, replacing it with the top hat which he set firmly on to Ikey's head, giving its crown a solid thump. The brim immediately dropped over Ikey's eyes and kept sliding until it stopped, trapped halfway down Ikey's nose.
Ikey gave a small squeak of alarm. 'Not me coat, I can't take leave o' me coat, not now, not never!' he pleaded.
'Christ, Ikey. I'll wear it! Ya won't lose it!' Marley said impatiently. 'Ya can 'ave it again when we gets to the isle.'
Ikey now pushed the top hat furiously off his head so that it tumbled backwards bouncing on the floor and rolling. 'Never, not ever, no, no no, not me coat!' he moaned.
Marley watched in amazement as Ikey clasped his arms about his chest hugging his coat, whimpering and rocking as though his life depended on it remaining on his back.
Which, of course, in Ikey's eyes was most certainly the case. Without his coat Ikey considered himself skinned and in no way different to an animal being led to the slaughteryard. Once skinned of his coat he believed he'd soon enough be hooked and hanging like some freshly peeled beast.
Marley appeared to be thinking, his hand cupped to his chin, 'I tell ya what… ' He was about to say something, then changed his mind, paused and looked at Ikey. 'But it will cost ya another two sov.'
'What?' Ikey asked tremulously, backing away. 'You'll not have me coat, Bob Marley!'
'It be cold enough outside to freeze ya balls orf, but ya can wear me coat over your'n.' Bob Marley gave Ikey a fierce look. 'Mind, if I catches me death of this act o' extreme generosity, I'll cut yer bleedin' throat, Ikey Solomon!' He began once more to remove his coat, though first he removed the woollen scarf from its pocket and placed it about his neck.
For once, at the mention of money, there was no hesitation from Ikey. Almost before Bob Marley had ceased speaking, and long before he'd removed his coat, Ikey held out the two extra gold coins. 'Not me coat,' he whimpered. 'Not never me coat!'
Marley's coat proved sufficiently voluminous to accommodate Ikey within his own, but when it was fitted to his tiny body it dragged nearly ten inches on the ground. Furthermore, the sleeves extended six inches beyond Ikey's mittened fingers. Though this was of little consequence, the hemline of the coat dragging on the floor made it almost impossible for Ikey to walk at anything but a snail's pace.
Bob Marley looked puzzled, then suddenly he grabbed the back of the collar of the outer coat and lifted the entire garment so that the collar dropped over the top of Ikey's head in the manner of a monk's cowl. With his whiskers mostly concealed behind the lapels of the borrowed coat, Ikey now looked like an old crone.
Marley then produced a large silk handkerchief and, twirling it from corner to corner, tied it about Ikey's neck so that the hoisted top of the coat would not slip from his charge's head. This gave Ikey an even greater likeness to the shape of an old woman who, if casually observed in the darkness of the street, might be thought to be wearing a shawl about her head. Furthermore, with the lifting of the coat over Ikey's head, the sleeves now almost fitted, the tips of Ikey's mittened fingers protruding from the ends. It was an altogether admirable arrangement and Bob Marley stood back and felt well pleased with himself.
'Perfect! Even if I says so meself. If we're stopped by a crusher, you is me dear old muvver what's come up from the country. 'Ere, wrap this around yer gob so they won't see no whiskers if the law wants to take a closer gander at ya.' Marley handed Ikey the woollen scarf which hung from his neck.
Ikey reached out for the scarf. But with two coats on his back he could barely move his arms, much less wrap the scarf about his already tightly cowled head. Bob Marley grabbed the scarf and wound it around the bottom half of Ikey's face so that all that showed were the bright points of Ikey's bloodshot eyes.
'Ullo, old darlin',' Marley said and blew a kiss in Ikey's direction. His expression became suddenly impatient. 'C'mon, then, let's scarper. I'm ready so chilled me arse'ole thinks it's suckin' on a lemon!'
'What about me 'at? You've left me 'at!' Ikey cried in a muffled voice, pointing at his hat discarded on the floor.
Marley walked over to the banister and retrieved the candle. 'Fuck yer 'at, Ikey!' he said, kicking the hat into a dark corner. 'Fer Gawd's sake let's be rid o' this place before the law adds two and two and comes up wif a very popular arrest!' He rolled the jar containing the smoking candle back into the hallway and closed the door behind them.
Outside the wind howled and a sudden flurry of snow beat down on them, so that neither man heard the door open and then close again, or noticed the small shape of Sparrer Fart as he too left the Academy of Light Fingers. Under his arm, its broad brim almost touching the ground, the urchin carried Ikey's hat. He watched carefully as the two men turned towards Rosemary Lane and then he began to follow them into the bitter London night.
• • •
Hannah was woken to the loud knocking at the door of her Whitechapel home. The knocking seemed to have been going on for some time for she remembered it in her sleeping as she struggled to emerge from her laudanum-induced stupor. She'd returned home from the last of her brothels in the dock area just hours before dawn and had expected to sleep until midday.
She was too bleary-eyed to think why the Irish maid-of-all-work who slept with the two younger children hadn't responded to the knock. Wrapping herself in a blanket and thinking only that the slut had probably been at the gin again, having first fed it to the children to quieten them for the night, Hannah made her way down the stairs. She opened the front door to see Sparrer Fart standing on the snow-covered bottom step clutching what appeared to be a large hat.
At first the small urchin holding the hat made no sense. The street about her was transformed from its usual greyness and was white and clean from a fresh snowfall. It was still too early for people to be making their way to the Whitechapel markets around the corner, so that the street had the quality of a dream, enhanced further by the residual effects of laudanum. Hannah's face screwed up in vexation at the sight of the small boy who had the temerity to hammer at her door. She was about to send him packing with an oath when he stammered, 'Itttt's 'bbbout Ikkkey Ssssolmon, mmmissus!' Then slowly, her confused mind focused on the shape of Ikey's hat clutched under the urchin's arm.
Hannah rubbed her eyes, now suddenly fully awake, though the vestiges of the drug caused her words to slur when she spoke. 'Ikey? Ya got news?'
'Iiiit's urrrrgent, mmmmissus!' the small boy managed to say through half-frozen lips, his breath smoking in the freezing air.
'Come in, boy!' Hannah opened the door wider to let Sparrer Fart pass into the hallway. 'Keep walkin' to the kitchen in the back, I'll not 'ave such as you in me parlour.' Her head was surprisingly clear as she directed the urchin to the rear of the house.
'We ggggot 'immmmm missus!' Sparrer said, turning to her as they reached the kitchen.
'Got 'im, who's got 'im? Who's we?'
But the boy now seemed in a state too frozen to communicate further. He silently held up the hat for Hannah to see. He was shivering violently, his teeth chattering so furiously that it was plainly impossible for him to talk. Ikey's hat jerked and shook as though it might jump of its own accord from his tiny fist.
Hannah took a key from around her neck and opened a cupboard from which she took a quart bottle of brandy. She unhooked two small pewter mugs from the dresser, poured a small splash into one and handed it to Sparrer Fart. '
'Ere, get that down yer gob, do ya the world.'
Sparrer dropped Ikey's hat and grabbed the mug with both hands, gulping greedily at the raw liquor. He began to choke and cough as the fiery liquid hit his stomach and chest, though he showed that he was well enough accustomed to such a reaction. Soon enough he took a second, more cautious, sip from the mug.
Hannah, clutching the blanket around her with one hand, poured a dash of brandy into the second mug and seated herself at the table.
'Well, what 'as ya to say for y'self, boy?' she demanded, pointing to Ikey's hat. 'No way Ikey would o' parted with 'is 'at.' She looked suspiciously at Sparrer, who was still shaking and clapping at himself. 'Ya ain't done Ikey no 'arm now, 'ave ya?' she demanded.
Sparrer shook his head and lifted the mug to his still chattering teeth for another sip.
Hannah sighed and reluctantly took the blanket from around her and handed it to the urchin who grabbed it gratefully, wrapping his diminutive body into its warmth. Hannah wore a thick red woollen nightdress which reached down to her ankles which, in turn, were encased in bedsocks and a pair of fleece-lined slippers. Warmed by a second sip of the brandy, she rose and went to the kindling box and laid a fire in the hearth, adding a few lumps of coal to the twigs before lighting it.
'Can I 'ave some more, missus?' Sparrer held out the pewter mug.
The tiny boy had consumed a good half inch of brandy which, apart from having restored his voice and stopped his shivering, appeared to have had no measurable effect on him. 'Got yer tongue back 'as ya, boy? Sorry, no more, not 'til after you've said what ya come for. What's yer name?'
'Sparrer, missus, Sparrer Fart, but they jus' calls me Sparrer.' He put the mug down on the table, licking the brandy taste from his lips. 'I'm 'ungry, missus, I ain't et since yesterday mornin'.'
Hannah sighed. She was growing impatient. 'What ya think this is, a bleedin' chop 'ouse? I ain't givin' you nuffink to eat until ya tells me what ya come for!' She pointed to the hat on the table. 'Ya can start with that!'
'It be Ikey's. Ikey Solomon! Honest, missus, I wouldn't tell you a lie!'
'I know that, but where'd you get it, boy?'
Sparrer, sensing Hannah's anxiety for an answer, looked suddenly forlorn. 'I'm 'ungry, missus, real 'ungry I is.'
Hannah realised she'd get no more from the urchin until she'd fed him, so she fetched a plate of cold salt beef from the cupboard and cut two large hunks from a loaf of yesterday's bread. Then she filled a bowl with curds and placed the offering in front of the small boy, who immediately began to devour the food.
In between mouthfuls Hannah got the story from Sparrer. Hannah listened as he told her how, a day or two back, he'd attempted to lift a kerchief from Bob Marley's pocket in the Hare and Hounds. How Marley had caught him at it and after boxing his ears for being clumsy had found that Sparrer was one of Ikey's brats.
'Maybe I could use ya, 'e says. 'Ow good are ya as a tooler, boy? I just caught ya, that ain't a good sign. I'll give ya a test, fail and ya gets yer arse kicked!' Sparrer cleverly mimicked Bob Marley's voice.
Bob Marley had watched as Sparrer demonstrated his skill on several of the patrons of the house, returning with a cheap watch, two snot rags and no value except as a demonstration of Sparrer's light fingers and a fob chain, also of little value, as it was made of brass. Marley had been sufficiently impressed to recruit Sparrer for what the urchin, imitating Bob Marley again, described as, 'A little job what may or may not 'appen, but is the very opposite to what you 'as been trained to do.' He had not said anything more except to instruct Sparrer to check into the Hare and Hounds late every afternoon to see if Marley had left a message for him.
'Then Ikey comes back. One moment 'e's not nowhere and the next there 'e is standing in the Academy in front o' all the lads. Then 'e says 'e wants us to find Bob Marley.' Sparrer stopped and thought for a moment. 'No 'e don't, first 'e starts puckering 'bout cribbage, 'ow we mustn't 'andle flats in the dark. Then 'e asks us to find this cove Bob Marley. Ikey says to us there's a sov for 'im what finds this cove, and a shilling and a tightener for all what goes lookin'. 'Cept he says Bob Marley will be in the Haymarket when I knows perfectly well that's where 'e ain't!' Sparrer, feeling very pleased with himself, looked up at Hannah. 'So they all scarpers, pushin' and shovin' to get down the stairway first so it nearly come down!'
'Yes, yes, go on,' Hannah said impatiently.
'So I goes back to where I seen me friend, Mr Marley, a couple o' hours before. To me surprise, 'e were still there an' all! I taps 'im on the back. Mr Marley, I says, Ikey Solomon asks for the pleasure of yer company.'
Sparrer laughed. '" 'Ow'd you know I was lookin' for him?" Mr Marley says.' Sparrer looked pleased with himself. 'I didn't know 'e was lookin' for Ikey, but I ain't gonna tell 'im that, am I? I stays stum, don't I?' Sparrer paused and Hannah nodded her approval. ' "Ikey, what's picture is on all the posters, ya means 'im?" Mr Marley asks again. I nods, the very same person, 'e's our kidsman. "Blimey!" 'e says. "Miracles will never cease!"'
Sparrer could see Hannah was intrigued. 'Mind if I 'as another drop o' brandy, missus?'
'No more mecks, ya ain't no use to me drunk!' Hannah said, her lips tight.
Sparrer picked up the mug and looked into it disappointed, but then continued to talk. ' "Want to make 'arf a sov, Sparrer?" Mister Marley asks me. "Nacherly," I says. "Righto, Mister Sparrer Fart, let's see 'ow good a tooler ya is!" An'
'e 'olds up these two five pound notes.'
'Two?' Hannah interjected. 'Two five pound notes?'
'Yeah, that's right, then 'e give me instructions like, he says, "When we goes back and meets wif Ikey Solomon I wants you to plant these on 'im, Sparrer." Now I finks to meself, queer, even queerer than queer, all me life I 'as been practising to lift stuff, now this cove wants me to plant perfectly good soft on Ikey Solomon, the same person what's done all me trainin' in toolin'. It don't make no sense if ya asks me.'
Hannah was breathing fast. 'Well? Did ya do it?'
Sparrer, grown more loquacious with the brandy and enjoying his own story, continued without replying. ' "I'll try, Mr Marley, sir," I says. 'E grabs me by me coat. "No! Just don't fail! If it don't look like ya can do it, don't take no chances, ya hear me boy?"' Sparrer's imitation of Bob Marley was near perfect. '
'E 'ands me 'arf a sov. "Money in advance, win or lose, do it right or not at all! Ya understand?"' Sparrer straightened up in his chair and unconsciously stuck out his chest. 'Blimey, missus, 'e's paid me before I done the job. Win or lose I wins! "I'll do me best," I says. "Seein'
'ow you trusts me an' all." '
Hannah grabbed the mug out of Sparrer's hand and banged it down onto the table. 'For Gawd sakes stop muckin' about, did ya or didn't ya?'
Sparrer jumped and pulled his head back instinctively, expecting to be hit. 'What did I do?' he exclaimed in alarm.
Hannah felt suddenly foolish but, unable to explain her agitation, attacked further. 'Yer lyin'!' she shouted, trying to recover her composure. 'Ain't nobody could plant nuffink on Ikey Solomon. Leastways, no tooler what's just a brat!'
Sparrer rose to the bait. 'I did so! It were easy, missus!'
Hannah laughed. 'Easy was it? You think Ikey is some moocher what's just come in town from Shropshire?'
Sparrer explained how Ikey had tried to welsh on the sovereign he'd promised, offering him half a sovereign instead. Hannah nodded. This part was familiar enough.
'So I starts to blub, see. "It ain't fair!" I says and goes up and 'angs onto Ikey's coat, cos I seen this tear in the front what 'asn't been mended yet, so I keeps blubbin' and pluckin' on 'is coat which he thinks is me beggin' for the other 'arf sov what he owes me. So I tucks the soft what Mr Marley give me inside the tear and right-away it falls down into the lining.' Sparrer grinned. 'It were easy as pie!'
'So, tell me,' Hannah asked, 'Bob Marley gets ya to plant the soft on Ikey's person, real money what's valuable. Why would 'e do that? It don't make no s
ense now do it?'
Sparrer scratched his head. 'Buggered if I knows, missus.' He thought for a moment. 'Maybe it were a trick an' all. A joke or summink.'
Hannah said nothing until the boy grew uncomfortable under her steady gaze. Sparrer looked up and shrugged. 'I don't know why 'e done it, missus,' he said, ashamed that he could come up with no adequate explanation.
Hannah began, her voice soft at first, then building in volume, 'Let me tell ya summink for nuffink, Mr Sparrer Fart!' She pointed at the hat on the table. 'I think ya found Ikey's 'at, I dunno 'ow and I dunno where.' She reached over and picked up the hat. 'Look! It's got dust on it, 'ere look, on the brim, where it's been lyin' somewhere what's dusty! Ya found Ikey's 'at and ya thinks, " 'Ullo, 'ullo, this be worth summink", so ya comes round 'ere and makes up some cock 'n' bull story about fivers what ya planted on me 'usband's person, stories what is ridiculous and stupid even for a brat the likes of you!' Hannah's voice rose even higher. 'I don't think you've seen Ikey Solomon. I think you've only seen 'is 'at!'
'It ain't true! It ain't true what ya says, missus! I knows where Ikey is, where 'e be 'iding. I can show ya!' Sparrer protested.
'I suppose Bob Marley showed ya?' Hannah sneered.
'No! I followed them two. When they left the Academy last night. I followed them to the Isle! It were snowing, they didn't see me.'
'The Isle?'
'Jacob's Isle, Ikey's got a deadlurk there.'
'Ha! Jacob's Island! Fat chance! That be docks and 'ouses what's mostly condemned!'
'C'mon, then, I'll show ya, missus!' Sparrer challenged, caught up in the argument and forgetting that his purpose for coming was to try for a couple of sovs in exchange for Ikey's whereabouts.
Hannah's expression changed suddenly and she smiled disarmingly then gave Sparrer a supplicating look. 'Please, Sparrer, don't fool with me poor broken 'eart. I loves me 'usband. I know 'e ain't much, but I loves 'im. If ya knows where Ikey is, I must go to 'im, 'e needs me.' She leaned forward and took Sparrer's dirty little hand in both her own. 'Look at me, a poor woman what's 'usband is in mortal danger. Please Sparrer, if ya 'as any loyalty to Ikey what's taught ya all ya knows, you'll let 'is poor, miserable wife visit 'im.'
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