Page 18 of I Will Steal You the Stars
Enzo shoved his hand into his pocket and fished out the envelope before presenting it as some type of proof. ‘I don’t live there no more. I left earlier than most.’
‘The Matron said. She also said her charges had a way of finding their way back when they needed to. And to leave the letter. I guess she was right.’
‘Don’t tell her that. She’ll be so bloody smug about it.’
‘I got that impression.’ They both laughed. He wrung the broom a little, before tentatively extending his palm. ‘I’m Robert. Unless you’d rather call me—’
‘It’s a bit soon for that,’ Enzo snapped, but still took the offered hand and gave it a firm shake. ‘Robert will be fine.’ He shoved his hands into his pockets, then nodded at the hotel. ‘Nice place.’
Robert grimaced. ‘I’m afraid I have no windfall for you. No secret fortune. Only a failed dream and a growing pile of debt. I probably shouldn’t tell you, as you’ll run. It was a silly idea, to try to make a hotel as swish as the Langham, but smaller. I thought it might appeal as more discerning. Exclusive, like, because it had fewer rooms.’
‘It’s not a bad plan,’ Enzo offered in consolation. ‘The only thing toffs like more than showing off to their enemies, is showing up their friends.’
‘I can’t quite get things right. I should have stuck to tea, or gin. Those aristos. I don’t understand what they want. But who does?’
‘I do.’ Enzo huffed. Robert frowned in confusion. ‘I was raised to learn how to serve them,’ he explained. ‘What they like. Don’t like. And running the…nicheline of work we do in the rookery, we watch them, all the time.’
Robert juggled his broom from hand to hand. ‘I understand this is a lot. But would you like a cup of tea? We don’t have to talk family. But to start with, could we talk business? You might be able to help me understand where I’m going wrong.’
‘Coffee?’ Enzo asked.
Robert nodded. He rolled his lips like he was suppressing a grin.
‘Firstly,’ Enzo pointed at the sign over the entrance. ‘We’ve got to do something about that name.’
Enzo shook the Duke Street gates, pressed his face between the bars, then hollered. His voice bounced off the red brick walls.
A small boy, as short and thin as he had once been, ran across the courtyard. He pulled up before the stairs.
‘You there, kid. Go get Matron,’ he called.
The boy’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.
‘Tell her Enzo is here.’ He pulled out his last half penny and flipped it through the air. It bounced off the pavers, then rolled. ‘I need to speak to her. Please.’
The boy scurried after the coin, flipped it and shoved it into his pocket. He took the stairs two at a time, before disappearing into the building.
Mina hadn’t been at the boarding house, and she hadn’t been in the park. He’d even slunk by the townhouse on Grosvenor Square, but amongst the flurry of staff packing crates and boxes, she had not been there. Worry dripped icicles through his skin.
Matron appeared at the top of the stairs. She scanned the gates, and when she spotted him, folded her hands in front of her apron with quiet observation.
‘Mina,’ he called. ‘Have you seen her?’
Matron took the steps at a steady pace. ‘We don’t shout greetings, Lawrence. Especially when we haven’t seen someone in six years.’ She looked at him as she always had, with that expression somewhere between care and disappointment. ‘Mina called in earlier today, to say goodbye. She’s leaving to go to the estate with her employer. Interesting co-incidence, he was your sponsor—’
‘When?’ he demanded, his voice straining. The poor didn’t have the luxury of waiting, of thinking, or reconsidering. When a chance came, they had to grab it, because there might never be another one. It had only taken him a few hours to come to his senses, but perhaps he’d taken too long.
‘She left not long ago. It was a little odd though. She said she was for Suffolk with the family, then took off in a hurry saying she didn’t want to miss her train.’
‘Which station? Please Matron, this is important.’
‘Paddington, I imagine. It’s the closest to here.’
Matron’s chastisement chased his back as he ran. Ears straining, he tried to catch a whistle, or a grinding clunk of wheels, but in a city like London, everything sounded like industry. Enzo traced a line of alleys and side streets in his mind. If Mina left, she’d never look back. She’d leave London and cast a new dream for herself and her baby, and before she arrived in whatever grotty city she’d set her sights on, she would havefabricated a new dream for the two of them, and he would not be a part of it.
He had to get to her and convince her that he could, perhaps, dream too.
Chapter Ten
