Touched by Angels by Alan Watts Read Free Book Online Page B

’ee‘ll be inside a year.”
    Big Molly was grinning too, as Bob emerged from the door, with Sharp’s ham-sized fist holding the scruff of his neck. He lifted both hands, which were fettered in front, to shield his eyes from the glare, as his head pounded and thumped. He shouted his innocence up the street, as the crowd bayed and hissed, with one calling out, “You bleedin’ coward. Rope’s too good for yer!”
    Somebody threw a rotten turnip, which struck him of the back of the neck.
     
    ***
     
    Robert was watching his front door through a veil of tears. What his mother had said about the sixth commandment was true. He had broken it, the most sacred one of all. Yet it was she who had forced the silence upon him and he knew in his heart of hearts he had no other choice than to keep it.
    He stayed away ’til gone four, aimlessly wandering the streets, feeling as though his and his mum’s lives had reached the end. He had no idea what to expect as he arrived home, though he knew it possible his God-fearing mother might have cracked, and told the truth.
    He saw the horse-drawn hearse of Buck’s Undertakers outside the house. A sizeable crowd had formed once more, some giving cheers at the sight of Horace King instead of Lil Smith, being brought out. As he was loaded into the back, with his Bible, the rent book, on his belly, a cheer echoed from one end of the street to the other, and such is the fickleness of human nature, that for a few minutes at least, Bob was a hero.
    All could relax, and the Inkpens, a family of particular frailty, and Lil’s immediate neighbours, stood in a line as the hearse passed, while Mrs Inkpen, toothless and aged well beyond her thirty-four years, muttered, “Gawd bless ’im.”
    Everybody hung around after the hooves had faded into the distance, hats in hands, hoping to catch a glimpse of Lil, but she never came out.
    Soon, they went back indoors, knowing that at some point soon, a replacement would be sent for Mr King.
     
     

Eleven
    It happened much sooner than even the most cynical would have thought; an hour and ten minutes later, to be exact. The King family were not to be denied their income from the estates they owned in Stepney, Bow and Whitechapel, for even a day.
    Sir Rupert turned up with the two brutes who had accompanied his late brother. Tall, bristle-headed and scarred, one had mutinied from His Majesty’s Navy, and was on the run from the law, while the other, Mr Belcher, had been born in the workhouse itself. Employed for the most part as overseers, they were feared for beating people up during debt collections.
    Knowing they might turn her home over, hunting for the fob, Lil would have had the shock of her life when they came knocking, had she not heard the terrible commotion coming from the Inkpens, to give fair warning.
    With only a few minutes to act, her eyes still raw from crying, she emptied her odd-bod box, and put the watch and money inside. She told Robert to bury it in the patch of earth behind the outside toilet. While he carried on, she listened to the screams and smashing glass and crockery coming from beyond the thin wall.
    It was clear what the problem was. They couldn’t pay their rent, and if that wasn’t bad enough, they had stupidly refused to leave. Through the window, she watched Sir Rupert polishing his monocle, as weasel-faced Mr Inkpen came literally flying out.
    He crashed in a tangle of arms and legs at his feet, where he lay groaning in a cloud of dust, and within minutes, his wife and nine children lay around him like skittles.
    Sir Rupert calmly re-inserted the monocle and wrote several lines in the rent book, as they trooped off, hobbling and crying, never to be seen again.
    The moment he knocked on Lil’s door, she knew her misgivings were right, as after handing over the rent, he snapped, “Where’s my brother’s fob watch?”
    “What fob watch?”
    “The one you stole from him.”
    “I know nothing of…”
    Not caring to