The Eyeball Collector by F E Higgins Read Free Book Online Page A

accordingly. Within a week it was almost as if he had never spoken any other way. Occasionally the odd ‘By Jove!’ or ‘Splendid, old chap!’ or Latin expletive slipped out – old habits die hard – causing the boys to look at him askance and laugh, but it wasn’t long before some of his new companions, in homage to Hector, started to use the expressions themselves.
    But what endeared Hector to them most was when he posed riddles or read to them – the humorous verses of Beag Hickory, or sometimes, at Polly’s particular insistence, magical stories from Houndsecker’s Tales of Faeries and Blythe Spirits , a copy of which one of the boys had ‘acquired’ from an unsuspecting bookseller in the City.
    So life at Lottie’s was not as unpleasant as Hector had first imagined it might be. He was fed, he had shelter and he could earn money riddling. The jobs the other boys did to this end were many and varied. Some crossed the Bridge and polished gentlemen’s shoes, others swept the crossings or just begged, and needless to say they all thieved. Hector was not much of a pickpocket, so at first he had sold chicken feet door to door, but now he had his riddling.
    As long as you said grace before meals, joined Mrs Fitch in prayer whenever the feeling took her (often), sang her hymns when she sang them (often and loudly) and carried out basic chores, then your life was your own. Yes, he had to put up with lice and fleas and foul smells and the danger on the streets, but this was traded for freedom. He hadn’t forgotten the long dreary days in the schoolroom with his tutor, conjugating his verbs and declining his nouns, ever wary of the cane with which his tutor seemed particularly free and easy.
    But when darkness fell each evening, so too did his mood. He missed his father sorely and inside anger and an increasing desire for revenge were eating away at his heart. And he was heavily burdened by the weight of his secret past. He didn’t dare tell Lottie his family name, not now that it was blackened by its association with gin. She would have him out on the street! It was during these dark hours that Polly came to his rescue. Her cheerful and non-prying nature usually brought him round.
    Hector took every opportunity, day and night, to search for Truepin. He knew in his heart that he was probably gone from the City, but he had to believe that one day he would right the terrible wrongs that had been done to his family. Often he would return late at night, cold and hungry, but Polly, who was always up and waiting for him, never said a word or enquired about his whereabouts, only fed him and put him to bed. Other times, when Hector sat with her at the kitchen table and helped her with her letters and penmanship, she would look at him quizzically, as if inviting him to answer the unasked question, but he never did.
    Only once did she say something. It was after midnight and Hector was slumped across the table, pale and exhausted.
    ‘Hector,’ Polly began gently, ‘I don’t know who or what you seek these winter nights, and I don’t want to know, but I can see that it is doing you no good at all.’
    Hector opened his mouth to protest but she put up her hand to silence him.
    ‘I’m your friend. I hate to see you like this. Sometimes you just have to leave the past behind otherwise it will eat you up.’
    Hector knew she was right. If only I could just forget it all, he thought. But in his mind’s eye he saw again his father’s lifeless body in the butterfly house and he knew he had to continue to the bitter end, wherever it lay.
     
Chapter Ten
          

     
The Devil’s Sweat
    Lottie Fitch put down the leaflet and took a moment to herself in the kitchen. She still had cravings, strongest in the morning, for the gin that had been her master for so many years, but she put her hands together and prayed with all her might for the strength to resist. She ran her tongue around her mouth and felt the teeth – and gaps