Six
As I prepared myself that evening, I realized that I had another problem—my feet. No boy would ever wear a pair of pointed button boots, and they were my only footwear. It was no use trying to borrow from Shameyboy next door. He only had one pair of boots and they were on his feet. I'd have to do what many poor youngsters did— go barefoot.
The hardest part of the assignment was sneaking out of the house undetected. Luckily Sergeant O'Hallaran had returned home for his dinner. I heard them talking in their kitchen as I slunk past. Once outside, it wasn't hard to find a puddle and get myself good and grimy. I set off for Washington Mews, my swagger marred by the hard cobblestones on my bare feet. I'd run barefoot as a child, but that was a while ago now and my feet were sore and throbbing by the time I reached Washington Square. My first tap on P. Riley's door brought no answer. I was angry and frustrated at having gone to such trouble and walked so far for nothing. But I hung around in the mews, listening to life in the city going on around me until darkness began to fall. I was just about to give up and go home, defeated, when I saw him. He came around the corner, clutching a cardboard box which, judging by the greasy stains already appearing on it, contained his dinner.
I took a deep breath, then stepped out to greet him as he started to climb the steps. I didn't want to risk surprising him and being attacked again. “Evening, mister.”
He stopped and turned to look at me.
Another deep breath. I forced my voice as low as it would go. “The lady next door says you need a‘prentice. I'm bright and willing, mister.”
“And your name is?”
I hadn't thought of that one. “Uh—Michael, sir. My friends call me Mike.” The first name that came into my head.
“Then you'd better come upstairs, Mike,” he said, giving me the cheeky grin.
He was smiling, pleased to see me. I couldn't wait to reveal my true identity to him and watch his astonishment.
I followed him into the dark room and waited while he lit the gas bracket on the wall. “Now then, uh, Michael,” he said, still grinning. “What makes you think I'd want to employ you?”
“I told you, mister. I'm willing and ready to learn. And honest, too.”
“Not quite honest,” he said, clearing off an area of his desk and putting the box down on some newspapers. “What was your name earlier today, Michael?” He took a sudden step toward me and yanked off the cap. Red hair spilled over my shoulders.
“I'll give you top marks for persistence,” he said. “Now, for the love of Pete, would you go away and leave me alone? Don't try any more stupid charades with me. I'm losing my patience and my good humor.”
“How did you know?” I asked. “I thought I looked quite real.”
“You thought you looked quite real?” He started that soundless chuckling, his body shaking silently. “Let me point out a couple of minor details, my dear. Look at your hands, to start with. Have you ever met a boy who didn't have dirt under his fingernails? And your feet? Oh, you've got them nice and dirty, but see how the little toe is pressed against the next one? That comes from years of wearing pointed shoes. Ever see a boy wearing pointed toed shoes? And then there's the smell of mothballs. Very odd that your clothes were stored away until this very moment, don't you think?”
I nodded. “So I have a lot to learn, I know. That's why I want you to teach me.”
“Do you think what I know can be taught?” he demanded. “If you hadn't slipped up with those details, I'd still have caught you out. You know why? Because you didn't think and react like a boy. You came up the steps daintily, one hand on the rail. A boy would have taken them two at a time, probably, and he'd always be alert. A boy in the city is used to being on the lookout for danger. He's had plenty of cuffs around the head and he doesn't want another one. And when he's on an errand like this, trying to convince me that he can do a man's job, he'd show a touch of bravado. You can't just dress the part. You have to get inside the head.”
“How did you learn all this?” I asked.
“Me? I've had a lifetime on the streets, my dear. Nothing sharpens skills like survival.” He brushed off his greasy hands. “Let me give you a little demonstration.”
He went through into a back room I hadn't noticed before and closed the door behind him. While I was waiting, I looked around. Under the clutter was a sparsely furnished room, the table being the only piece of real furniture. I went across to look out of the back window, which opened onto more outbuildings and another alleyway filled with garbage cans. I jumped when I heard a tap at the front door.