Pickings seemed slim as Daniel tramped the streets. He wondered where Molly found the bundles she had returned with the previous day and guessed she’d walked further than they’d realised. Much as he knew the need, his heart wasn’t in it.
He turned the corner of Bayard and, blinking at the sight ahead of him, quickly dropped back into the shadows. Tom was leaning against a wall, talking to Patrick Mahoney. It was not like the day when Patrick was threatening them; this time, the two were in conversation. That couldn’t be good. To be sure, they were going to need more protection now than ever before, but Tom wouldn’t join up with the gang without telling him.
He and Tom were a team. More than that, blood-brothers – Tom swore they were. He stood in the alley, breathing heavily and wondering what it meant. He’d faced Tom’s rages before and wasn’t ready to confront him. Should he mention it to Molly, or was it safer to say nothing? Daniel’s heart raced as he watched, waiting for them to move on before coming out of his hiding place.
He could feel the cold sweat trickling down his back as he returned the way he’d come, making certain that Tom hadn’t seen him. He’d wait for Tom to give the word. Maybe he still planned to include Daniel. He wouldn’t go back on their promises now, would he?
Daniel sighed as he returned to the shack with so few rags that their carrying was easy.
“Reckon you’re better at singing than searching for cloth,” Molly said, taking the few items from him and placing them in the far corner of the room.
Daniel said nothing but sat with his head in his hands, wondering what to do.
Days passed and Tom didn’t speak of Patrick Mahoney or the Roach Guard. Many a time he’d excuse himself and disappear for a few hours, but Daniel had more sense than to ask where he was going. He felt Tom’s absence keenly and his singing was more mournful than ever. Pickings weren’t so good, going out singing on his own, and Tom rarely seemed to have much to add to the family coffers.
At night, Daniel lay wondering what Tom was doing with his time. If it were anything profitable, then he and Molly weren’t sharing the gains. He neither had the courage to follow Tom nor the willingness to leave Molly on her own of an evening, so he waited, hoping Tom might take him into his counsel.
Daniel and Molly spent many hours together, searching for rags or boiling them. They kept each other company and sometimes she would go with him when he sang, to help pick up the coins, but not to pick pockets as her brother would have done. They’d set aside the money for the rent. They would give no cause for their landlord to look further, but nevertheless Daniel dreaded the day of his calling and hoped more than anything that Tom would be there. They knew the day, but not the hour. They sat waiting for the tapping of the cane that preceded the odious man.
For all Tom’s absence through the recent days, he was ready and waiting. He was at the doorway before any chance of a head stooping to look inside.
“Ah, don’t you sweat yourself. We’ve got your money.” Tom stood, legs apart and arms folded, dwarfed by the shadow of Mr Clyde.
From the corner where he was crouching, Daniel could see a tremor run down Tom’s legs. Daniel clutched Molly’s hand and felt the drip of her tears on his bare arm.
“And your mammy? I need to speak with your mammy.” The voice sounded as though it carried all the coarse gravel and detritus of the streets.
Tom stood firm, biting his lip.
Daniel wondered what Tom could say in answer to that. If he said she was out, Mr Clyde would only come back later. Surely he was left with no choice.
Tom stared at the ground. His shoulders dropped as he said, “She’s passed.”
Daniel felt Molly shiver and drew her closer to him.
“But the agreement’s with your mammy.”
Daniel could hear the sneer even though he couldn’t see Mr Clyde’s face.
“Then the agreement’s in heaven.” Tom spat on the floor by the landlord’s feet.
“You’ll not be staying then.” Mr Clyde prodded Tom with his cane.
Tom balled his fists but managed not to step back. “I’ve got your money and plenty more where that came from. What do you want, blood?”
“No mammy, no room. 4 o’clock. Be gone or I’ll drive you out.” The landlord raised his cane to support the threat, then turned on his heel and strode from the doorway.
“What’ll we do now?” Molly whimpered, her small frame shaking against Daniel.
“We’re not going!” Tom looked fearsome, considering he was only a year older than Daniel. “We’re staying here.”
Daniel knew not to get involved in arguments between brother and sister. He never forgot that he wasn’t family, only a lodger dependent on their kindness.
“What’ll we take with us?” Molly went over to the pot by the fire. “We can’t carry this, we’ve nowhere to take it.”
Tom took her by the shoulders. “We’re staying, d’you hear me?”
Molly continued as though Tom hadn’t spoken. “We’ll need our blankets. We can wrap things in them.”
“We’re not going,” Tom shouted, and suddenly slapped her across the face with the back of his hand.
Molly reeled away from him, landing in a heap against the wall, and let go to uncontrollable sobbing. Daniel gasped. Tom turned on his heel and went out into the street.
Checking that Tom was out of sight, Daniel went to Molly and wrapped his arms around her. He had no words. No way to express his shock at what Tom had done, or his fear of what lay ahead of them. Like Molly, he thought they should prepare to leave, but now his courage failed and he dared not. His fear of how Tom might react was greater than that of the landlord. He needed Tom more. Besides, what did they have that they could take, save the clothes they stood up in and the thin moth-eaten wrappings they called blankets? They couldn’t boil rags on the streets. At best they could collect them for someone else and hope to receive small payment for their labours.
Quietly, Daniel prepared for leaving, whilst staying in the shack awaiting Tom’s return. Surely he would come back before the appointed hour? Tom wouldn’t leave him and Molly to face Mr Clyde alone, would he?
Molly was quiet now, sitting waiting by the hearth as though the loss of it was already being keenly felt.
When Tom did come back he was in the company of Patrick Mahoney. Daniel sent up a silent prayer of thanks. Perhaps he had been too swift to judge his companion. Maybe his dealings with the Roach Guard were a good thing after all. Tom and the older boy stood in the doorway, waiting. Patrick didn’t come inside, but stood where the sun glinted off the blade he was making no effort to hide. Daniel could see two others of the Guard standing a little distance away, and for a moment allowed himself to relax.
When the hour came, the landlord was not alone either. Two rougher men, both armed with clubs, stood alongside.
Tom stepped forward, his face defiant. “This is our home, we’ll not be moving.” He stood proud, despite his ten years.
The landlord stepped forward to meet him, lifting Tom’s chin with the end of his cane to force the boy to look up at him. “You’ve got five minutes to be out of my sight.”
Patrick pulled Tom aside and moved to stand in front of the landlord, his arms crossed but the knife blade still visible and ready. “And what if yous was to rent it to me? You knows me father. Let me take it on.”
For reasons he couldn’t understand, a chill ran through Daniel as he waited for the reply.
“And what would you be wanting with a place to live at your age? Be gone.”
“I’ll pay good money.”
“You’ll pay what I ask or you’ll not rent one of my houses.”
Patrick seemed to Daniel to be winning. The landlord was at least still talking to him.
“How much do you want?”
The landlord turned to walk away, inclining his head to his henchmen as he did.
“Wait!” Patrick went after him and made a show of putting his knife away. Daniel could not hear the
m talking from where he was, but from the body language it looked as though the landlord was relenting. He held a hand up to stay the other two and within a minute there was a grinning sneer across Patrick’s victorious face and the men were called away.
Daniel felt Molly’s body sag against his own with relief, but he wasn’t ready for celebration just then. They’d struggled to meet the rent before, but any increase, as well as any extra share that Patrick demanded, was going to be impossible.
Tom swaggered into the doorway as though he now owned the place. “It’s a good job one of us hasn’t been sitting around these last days,” he said looking in on Daniel and Molly.
Before he had time to come through the doorway, Patrick’s hand was on his shoulder and wheeling him round to face the other way. “And where d’you think you’re going, Thomas Reilly?”
Daniel could see the flashes of light on the blade that Patrick brought up under Tom’s chin.
“I thought…” Tom suddenly sounded pitiful.
Patrick spat on the ground. “Then you thought wrong. This is my place now and yous all have to leave. Your mammy’s not here to call on now and me da won’t be bothered by the likes of you without her say so… Ready, boys?” Patrick clicked his fingers to call the other Roach Guard boys across. “This gentleman was just leaving… and his young friends.”
Daniel didn’t intend to stop for what was going to happen next. He took Molly’s hand and pulled her up. He could feel her shaking. He grabbed the carefully folded blankets he’d left ready for them and started pulling her towards the door.
One of the Roach Guard had pinned Tom against the side of the building and had nicked his face with the edge of his blade as a foretaste of what was to come.
Patrick stepped aside for Daniel and Molly to pass and, as he did so, Molly pulled away.
“Wait.” She went back into the shack but Patrick blocked Daniel’s way to stop him following.
Daniel felt more alert than he had ever felt. Patrick had started to follow Molly into the shack. Daniel was terrified of what he was going to do to her. He could see the blood trickling down Tom’s cheek. He couldn’t move from where he was. Daniel’s way was now blocked by the other Roach Guard member who was accompanying Patrick. He heard Molly scream and his heart raced. He did the only thing he could think of. “She’s your sister! Leave her be.”
Suddenly, Patrick was back out of the doorway, knife raised. “What did you just say?”
Daniel’s voice was barely audible as he tried to form the words. It wobbled as he spoke. “She’s your sister.” If he died now, at least it would have been to save Molly.
Patrick slashed his face with the knife. Daniel could feel the searing pain from his cheekbone to his chin. Then Molly was there, clenching her little fists and clutching her mother’s rosary, the one possession she’d thought it worth going back for. She kicked at Patrick’s shin. Despite the fact that Daniel thought the relationship was news to her, she stood firm. “Go ask your father, Patrick Mahoney, and do Daniel no more harm. What of it if I am your sister? I wouldn’t call you family if you was the last man alive.” She turned on the two holding Daniel and Tom hostage. “And you two should be ashamed of yourselves, picking on small boys.”
Daniel saw Tom physically sag under the label of ‘small boy’.
“Go fight the Bowery Boys or someone else your own size and leave us alone.”
Her feisty nature would have been funny in other situations, but with his cheek dripping blood and his throat as dry as it was, Daniel felt no inclination to laugh. Instead he sent up a silent prayer of thanks that Mammy’s spirit lived on in her daughter, whoever her father was.
Molly stood, hands on hips, tapping her foot in a meaningful way. Patrick and his cronies stepped aside and allowed the three children to step away from the shack. They moved off quietly. Molly, her head held high and her back straight, led the way, her taut white knuckles grasping the rosary tightly to her side. When they reached the big old tree’s roots, they sank to the ground beneath it. None of them spoke for some time.
It was Molly who eventually broke the silence. “What d’you want to go getting yourself involved with the likes of Patrick Mahoney for, Thomas Reilly?”
Tommy shrugged but said nothing.
Then in a quiet voice Molly asked, “Is it true?”
Tommy nodded.
“But I was born back in Ireland, before Da went away.”
Tommy nodded again. “Ma knew the Mahoneys before we came here. You’re Patrick’s sister. That’s why I thought he’d help, but I reckon he didn’t know.”
Daniel thought that, after months of being the man of the house, Tom once again seemed the boy he really was, lost in a confusing world, much like he and Molly were. Daniel almost felt sorry for him, but the betrayal of the last few weeks still made that hard.
Molly sighed and fell back into silence.
For a brief moment Daniel felt lucky to know that both of his parents had cared for him. He might be an orphan, but at least neither of his parents had left or disowned him.
He remembered the bundle he was carrying and opened it up. “Yous will need these,” he said, thrusting a blanket towards each of them. “I brought these too.” He held up the two wooden bowls. “We might find something to go in them sometime.” He forced a smile. “We need to sleep somewhere.” He prodded the grass-covered roots. “I guess it’s not perfect, but it will do until we find somewhere else. Maybe tomorrow we can find something better.” He took a few small coins from his pocket. “We could maybe get ourselves some bread and some ale.”
Molly looked up at her brother. “What happened to the rent money, Tommy? We’ve still got that.”
Tom cast his gaze down to the ground, picked up a stick and started prodding at the soil.
“Tommy?” Molly spoke very gently to her brother, but Daniel feared he knew the answer to the question. The money had been taken by Patrick Mahoney.
Tom said nothing, just shook his head, and Daniel saw a tear splash down onto the earth, before Tom used the stick to rub out any trace.
The summer night was warm but they huddled together, the three of them, below the embrace of the tree. Daniel slept little and from the movement of the others he guessed they were restless too. They didn’t speak. Daniel was lost in thoughts of the money Tom had so easily been conned out of. In some ways, he minded that less for the thought that Tom was back amongst them once again, and he hoped things would be back to how they used to be, if that were possible.
At first light, Daniel rubbed his eyes and felt the aches from the hard ground poking at his arms and legs. At least in the shack there’d been straw on the ground. They’d taken it little by little from the neighbouring stables when it spilled out into the road, grateful for whatever the horses cast out.
Molly had finally fallen asleep and he didn’t want to wake her so he stayed where he was, breathing softly and thinking about the day ahead. It would be hard to sing sweetly after so little sleep, but he’d try his best. It was their only income now, that and Tom’s thieving. Maybe they could find work selling newspapers or blacking shoes. He’d seen others doing it. They’d probably need some money to even get started, and they needed to eat as well. He wanted to help take care of Molly, even though he still wasn’t quite nine years old.
As the street became busy, Molly stirred. Daniel sat up and folded his blanket. Tom was already sitting, his back leaning against the tree, picking pieces of bark off a stick. He looked at the two of them and looked away, as though waiting for their reproach, but they said nothing.
Daniel took the last of the coins from his pocket. “I’ll get us some bread.” He walked away along the street, still clutching his blanket, to join the queue at the bakery for whatever he could afford. They could drink water from the well if they could find someone with a pail to draw it for them.
Once they’d finished eating it was Molly who got up. “I’ll see you boys here this afternoon. I’m going to look f
or rags and see if I can sell them.”
Daniel admired her courage. It gave him more strength for the day ahead. “I’m going to sing for our supper.” He forced a grin. “Maybe someone will want to hear me.”
“You’ve a lovely voice, Daniel Flynn, and I’d listen to you all day if I didn’t have things to do.” With that, the brave little soul scooped her blanket beneath her arm and marched toward the streets she normally searched for rags.
Tom was clearly downcast. Daniel reckoned it wasn’t the time to chivvy him along.
“I’ll see yous later,” Tom said.
Daniel had a suspicion Tom was going to remonstrate with Patrick Mahoney, but doubted it would get him anywhere. Left alone, Daniel started to walk further up into town, skirting the areas policed by the gangs and constantly watching for trouble. He found a corner to sing near Bryant Park, but mournful, heart-rending songs were all he had a care for and with crowds of people enjoying the warm summer sunshine there were few who stopped to hear his pitiful sound. He made a few coins, which he pocketed gratefully, but after only an hour or so it was time to move on.
He began to walk, without aim or intent, and found himself close to the place they’d left Mammy so recently. He walked along the edge of the ground, not knowing why but feeling that for now there was no other place he wanted to be. He’d only walked a short distance along the perimeter of the Potter’s Field when he saw a figure he thought he recognised slumped on the ground, head in hands and shoulders heaving.
He was uncertain if his approach would be welcome, but went up to Tom nonetheless and sat beside him. “I’ve missed you.” His simple statement said everything he was feeling. He didn’t know what else to say to Tom.
Tom looked up, his cheeks stained with tears. “It’s all my fault. I just thought…”
“I’m guessing you didn’t get any money back from Patrick Mahoney.”
Tom shook his head.
“You could go asking his father…”
“And say what? It’s time to look out for the girl you disowned while our Mammy was alive?” Tom rubbed his sleeve across his face and grinned. “It might work, but somehow I don’t think so.” Then he punched Daniel’s arm and sent him sprawling and, as good as any apology, Daniel knew they were friends again.
New York Orphan (Tales of Flynn and Reilly Book 1) Page 5