jerk he would pull himself upright and glare at her.
After a bit, Tilly stopped sweeping. âLook here,â she said, making an effort to sound friendly. âI can see as how youâre fagged out. There ainât no way that I can escape, as far as I can see, so why donât you go to your bed?â
His eyes opening wide, Clem stared at her. âWhatâs it to you?â
âNothing. I donât care if you falls onto the fire, but youâre in me way. I canât get to that corner round your big plates of meat.â
Getting slowly to his feet, Clem shot her a suspicious glance. âThis had best not be a trick.â
âGet on with you. How can I get through a locked door or over a wall covered in broken glass?â
âAnd donât forget, the windows is all barred. This drum used to be the managerâs office what ran the tobacco warehouses; they kept the wages here. Itâs harder to get out of than Newgate.â
âIâm not daft,â Tilly said, leaning on the broom. âIâm going to have a few words with your old man when he gets home. Make him see sense, like.â
Clemâs hollow laughter echoed round the kitchen even after he had left the room.
âYou can laugh,â Tilly said to herself, stabbing at a pile of rotting food with the broom, âbut I will get out of here, and youâre going to help me, Clem Tuffin. You see if you donât.â
Although she had worked with a will, Tilly could see little difference in the state of the room and fatigue was overcoming her. Flopping down in the chair by the freshly stoked range, she put her feet up, just for a moment, and closed her eyes.
âWhatâs this then?â
Bertâs loud roar awakened Tilly from a deep, dreamless sleep. It was quite dark in the room, with just a glimmer of light coming from the embers in the range. She yelped as Bert grabbed her ear, dragging her to her feet.
âLazy little bitch. I told you to clear this mess and youâve been kipping.â
Dazed with sleep, Tillyâs heart hammered inside her ribcage as if it were trying to force its way out. âI done me best. I ainât a blooming miracle worker.â
âWhereâs me dinner? I donât smell nothing cooking.â
âI canât cook if there ainât no food in the larder.â
Bert fisted his hands. âCheeky little cow. Iâll have to teach you some manners.â
âHey, guvner.â A voice from the doorway caused Bert to pause and glance over his shoulder. Clem strolled into the kitchen running his hand through his hair and yawning. âWhatâs the matter?â
Bert scowled. âI caught this bitch napping, thatâs whatâs the matter. And thereâs nothing for supper. I thought I told you to keep an eye on her, you useless piece of shit.â
Holding her breath, Tilly watched Clemâs face turn to stone and, for a moment, she almost felt sorry for him, but the feeling passed as quickly as it had come.
Clemâs mouth widened in a grin, but his eyes remained narrowed and wary. âShe probably canât cook anyway, guv. Weâll go down the pub and get a pint and a pie.â
âYouâre paying?â
âIâm paying.â
âYou had a good haul then?â
âA couple of dead âuns, delivered to the beadle all right and proper, ready for the coroner.â
âAnd they was well heeled?â
Clem patted his pocket. âWell enough, old man.â
âGet your brother out of bed,â Bert said, slapping Clem on the back. âWeâll go to the pub for our supper. Iâll deal with her later.â
Trembling from head to foot, Tilly held her breath as they sauntered out of the kitchen. She heard Clem shout for Abel, the sound of footsteps on the bare stair treads and then the opening and closing of the front door. She was alone in the house and it was eerily silent. When
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