‘Who’s this, Pa?’
‘Where are your manners, son?’ Jack placed a protective arm around Angel’s shoulders. ‘This young lady is Angel Winter, one of the flower girls from Covent Garden. Angel, this rough fellow is my son, Daniel.’
‘How do you do?’ Angel said politely.
Danny glared at her. ‘She don’t sound like one of them girls, Pa.’
‘Never mind that. Put the cart away and come inside. Your ma has been fretting about you since noon.’
‘I’m fifteen, not five,’ Danny muttered as he pushed the laden cart under the sloping roof of the lean-to. ‘I’m doing a man’s job, aren’t I?’
Jack shrugged and opened the back door. ‘Go inside and get warm, Angel. I want a few words with my son.’
Angel was only too glad to return to the kitchen and was greeted by the aroma of hot cocoa. Sally handed her a mug. ‘Here, love. You’ll need this. You look frozen.’
‘Thank you.’ Angel wrapped her numbed fingers around the tin mug. ‘Your son has come home, Mrs Wicks. He’s got a big load of holly and mistletoe.’
‘Danny’s a good boy. He wanted to go to sea, but Jack managed to convince him that working the garden was a better life. I’m not too sure myself.’
Angel said nothing. She tucked herself away in a corner of the room, pulling up a three-legged stool to sit beside Stumpy. The dog nuzzled her hand and butted her with his head until she relented and made a fuss of him, but he lost interest when Danny walked into the house and he ran to him, jumping up and down and barking excitedly.
Danny picked the small dog up in his arms. ‘You silly fellow,’ he said fondly. ‘I’d have taken you with me, but I didn’t want to lose you down a rabbit hole like last time.’
Sally rushed forward to give her son a hug. ‘Come and sit by the fire, love. It’s freezing out there. Are you hungry?’
‘Don’t fuss, Ma.’ Danny shot a sideways glance at Angel. ‘What’s she doing here?’
‘Don’t be rude, Danny. Angel came all the way from St Giles to seek advice from your father, and I asked her to stay the night. It’s not fit for man nor beast out there in the snow.’
Danny put Stumpy back on the floor and the dog raced over to Angel and jumped onto her lap. ‘Just so long as you haven’t given her my room. I don’t want a kid meddling with my things.’ Danny accepted a mug of cocoa from his mother, giving Angel a withering look as he left the room.
Sally shook her head. ‘Don’t take any notice of him, Angel. Danny doesn’t mean half of what he says. He’s a good, kind boy really.’
‘I’m sure he is,’ Angel said doubtfully. ‘I don’t mean to be a nuisance, Mrs Wicks.’
‘You are more than welcome here, Angel. Don’t let Danny upset you. He’s probably tired and hungry too.’ Sally made a move towards the door. ‘Come into the front parlour and see the bed I made up for you on the sofa. I’ve loaned you a nightgown, too. It will be much too big, but it will keep you warm, and tomorrow Danny will see you safely back to your lodging house. I’ll pack up some food for you to take to your poorly friend, so you mustn’t worry about a thing.’
Later, at the supper table, Jack persuaded Danny to part with some of his mistletoe so that Angel could have something to sell when she returned to St Giles. Danny agreed reluctantly and was even less enthusiastic about the prospect of seeing Angel safely home.
‘She got here on her own, didn’t she?’ he demanded crossly.
‘Danny, my son, you might think you’re a man, but you’ve got a lot to learn,’ his father said sternly. ‘You might take a leaf out of Angel’s book. She’s suffered more in her short life than you’ll ever know, so I want you to do this one thing for her. Is that understood?’
Few words passed between Angel and Danny during the long walk back to Mother Jolly’s establishment. He carried a sack filled with mistletoe and Stumpy trotted along at his heels, but Danny paid little attention to Angel, even when she slipped on a particularly icy patch and fell to her knees. She scrambled to her feet and continued without saying a word, but her hands stung and she had torn her skirt.
‘Why don’t you like me?’ she demanded when they came to a halt on Mother Jolly’s doorstep.
Danny dropped the sack at Angel’s feet. ‘Who says I don’t like you?’
‘You’ve made it very obvious.’
‘I don’t like people taking advantage of my dad’s good nature. He’s always helping some lame dog or another and then they disappear and he never gets a word of thanks.’
‘I’m not like that,’ Angel protested. ‘I’ll pay you for the mistletoe when I’ve earned some money, and I’ll write a letter to your parents, thanking them for their hospitality.’
‘That’s what I find odd,’ Danny said warily. ‘You talk and act like a young lady, so why are you in this place? I don’t believe that story you told Pa. If your aunt loves you so much, why did she abandon you?’
Angel snatched up the sack, which for all its bulk weighed next to nothing. ‘It’s got nothing to do with you. You are a rude boy, just like your ma said. You should be ashamed of yourself. I’m younger than you, but I think I’m a lot more grown up than you are, Danny Wicks.’
She faced him angrily and he glared back at her. Then, to her surprise he threw back his head and laughed. ‘You’re a funny little thing. But I never meant to hurt your feelings.’
‘Then you should watch your tongue,’ Angel said crossly. ‘I didn’t ask you to bring me home.’
‘No, you didn’t.’ He held out his hand, smiling ruefully. ‘I’ve said I’m sorry, Angel. My dad would kill me if he knew I’d been mean to you, and I didn’t mean half of it. Cross my heart and hope to die.’
‘I won’t tell him, if that’s what’s worrying you.’ Angel tossed her head. ‘And I won’t bother you again.’ She let herself into the house and slammed the door behind her.
Forgetting everything other than Dolly’s welfare, Angel raced up the stairs to the dormitory. ‘Dolly, are you all right?’ She came to a halt at the sight of the empty bed, neatly made up, and her heart sank. Her worst fears were realised. ‘Oh, no …’ An empty bed meant one of two things: the occupant had recovered and gone to work, or she was heading for a pauper’s funeral. Abandoning her sack of mistletoe, Angel ran downstairs and hammered on the basement door.
‘Who is it and what d’you want?’ Mother Jolly wrenched the door open. She took the clay pipe from between her broken teeth and breathed smoke in Angel’s face. ‘Oh, it’s you. I thought you’d run off. You’re lucky I didn’t give your bed to someone else.’
‘Where’s Dolly?’
‘How would I know? She owes me for last night, and so do you. If I haven’t got the money by midday you’ll have to find another dosshouse.’
‘I will pay,’ Angel said urgently. ‘I’ve got mistletoe to sell. I’ll have plenty of money but maybe not until later on. Has Dolly gone to the