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“And pretty dresses?”

“Loads of ’em.”

“And a carriage with four horses?”

“Of course. Six ’orses, and a coachman, an’ all.”

Peggy sighed with happiness. But something inside her stirred, and she clung to him. “But you won’t go away? You won’t let them take me away from you again, will you?” Her eyes were wide with terror. His eyes were serious and his voice firm. “No one can take you away from me, not no one, never. I’ve promised, haven’t I? We’ll be together always.”

Satiated with muffins and warmth and the emotion of the day, her eyes began to close. Frank watched her closely, thinking he had never seen such a pretty face. She was so much prettier than the coster girls most of his mates had. They were rough-looking girls with loud voices and dirty hair. He leaned forward and touched her hair. It was like silk, and so fine he had to blow it, just to watch it move. She felt his breath on her face, and opened her eyes.

“Come on, little girl, it’s time for you to go to bed.”

Frank used the words he had used when he was six and she was two. A distant memory stirred and she giggled, and leaned back against the wall, kicking her heels against the floor.

“Can’t make me.”

He leaned towards her and took off her boots and socks, saying as he did so, “This little piggy goes to market. This little piggy stays at home.”

She caught the rhyme and finished, “And this little piggy goes wee, wee, wee, all the way home. Home, Frank, not the workhouse but home, with you.”

He undressed the sleepy young girl just as he had done nearly ten years before. He put her into the bed and she fell asleep straight away, snuggled into the warm blanket that he pulled around her.

He threw another log on the fire. He did not feel sleepy. He felt wide awake, teeming with emotions that tumbled into his conscious and subconscious mind. He had done it! He’d got her out. Out for good an’ all. Hadn’t that stinking workhouse master sat up when he’d showed him the Post Office book, and told him there were respectable lodgings to take her to? Frank looked proudly round the little room. This was real swell, this was.

He stroked the hair of the sleeping child, and a wave of tenderness swept over him. This was his sister. Was she really like their mother? He couldn’t say. Already the shadow of his mother was fading as the reality of Peggy grew more distinct. How soft and pretty girls were. He stroked the smooth white skin of her arm and compared it with his own, all covered with black hairs. He took up her hand, then noticed with fury that it was all red and rough, her nails short and broken, with little cracks at the fingertips. The bastards. They’d got her scrubbing and doing heavy washing already! They’d better not come his way again, or he’d murder them! No – that was too good for them. He’d get the Master and the lousy officers scrubbing the floors themselves. They could scrub for years. That’d learn ’em! He swore angrily to himself, and vowed that Peggy would never have to work so hard again.

He got up and turned the log with his boot. Sparks shot up the chimney and the embers glowed red, making the meagre little attic look cosy. He looked around, and thought of the squalid men’s doss-house on the waterfront where he had lodged for two years. Disgusting! Men were always coughin’ an’ spittin’. Men were always fartin’ and belchin’ an’ swearin’. Always fightin’ over nuffink, they were. It wasn’t just Peggy who’d been rescued. Rescuing her had rescued him from that lousy, flea-ridden dump, and he was never going back. Never.

He sat down again beside her and listened to her quiet breathing. Men snored! Leastwise, all the men he’d ever known had snored like elephants. Enough to keep a person awake all night. Peggy let out a tiny puff as she moved in her sleep, and he held his breath. Was that how girls snored? The workhouse dormitory with seventy boys and an officer came to his mind, and he shut the thought out quickly. He didn’t ever again want to think of it. It was too awful. They were both out now and they’d stay out. They belonged together. His jaw was set with determination as he looked into the future.

She would have to go to school. His sister was going to have a good education and grow up to be a lady. He’d see to it, he would. His sister wasn’t going to be a common coster girl, like them poor little kids. Half-starved, half-frozen, unwanted kids, sent out for hours and hours to sell a few lousy apples or rotting pears that no one would buy and then they’d get beaten because they hadn’t sold a thing. His sister would be a lady with book-learning and a posh accent.

The log shifted on the fire, and the sound broke his train of thought. Perhaps he’d better get some shut-eye. He’d have to be up at three to go to the market. It was more important than ever that his trading showed a profit. He could think about schools tomorrow. But he didn’t want to disturb the magic of the moment. The firelight was fading, but he could see the dark curve of her lashes against her pale skin. He could see the slender white shoulder against the grey blanket. He leaned over and kissed it, very gently, so as not to disturb her. This was the best day of his life.

Quite suddenly he felt really tired. The excitement of the day had caught up with him at last. He pressed the log down into the ashes, undressed, and crept into bed, hoping not to wake her. But the bed was so small that he had to push her over to make room for himself. She sighed, and stretched out a sleep-warmed arm, which, feeling his body, curled around his neck and drew him towards her. She murmured: “Is that Frank? Is that really Frank, my lovely brother? Oh, I love you so much.”

He kissed her eyes, her hair, her face, her mouth. He passed his hands down her slender body, and fire ran through him as he felt the circle of her tiny firm breasts and buttocks. She was neither asleep nor awake, but she loved him with all her heart and mind, with all her soul and her body. Their union was as inevitable as it was innocent.

TILL DEATH US DO PART

Peggy was singing her way through her scrubbing and polishing at Nonnatus House. It was always nice to hear her. Sister Julienne casually remarked, “You sound happy. How’s Frank these days?”

“Frank? Well, he’s had a bit of a stomach ache recently, but a dose of Epsom Salts will soon see that off.”

A few weeks later she confided to Sister, “Frank’s still got the stomach ache, Sister. Salts don’t seem to do him any good. What else can I give him?”

Questioning revealed that Frank’s stomach ache had lasted for six weeks. Sister advised seeing the doctor, but Frank would not go to the doctor. Men like Frank never do.

“I’ve never bin to a sawbones in me life, an’ I’m not startin’ now. I’ll work it off, you’ll see.”

But he couldn’t work it off, and a couple of weeks later he had to shut up his stall in Chrisp Street Market at 11 a.m. leaving half the fish unsold – something unheard of. He took a couple of codeine and slept when he got home, and felt sufficiently well to go to Billingsgate at 4 a.m. the next morning.

“There, I said I’d work it off, didn’ I?” he said as he kissed Peggy goodbye.

But some of his mates brought him home at 7 a.m. The pain had got so bad that he couldn’t continue. Peggy put him to bed and called the doctor, who examined him and advised hospital. Frank refused. The doctor assured him it would only be for a few days for tests. Peggy insisted and finally Frank acquiesced. Tests revealed the early stages of carcinoma of the pancreas. They were told it was inflammation of the pancreas and radium treatment was advised.

At Nonnatus House Peggy sought reassurance. “It’s only inflammation, and what’s the pancreas, anyway? It’s only a tiny organ in the body, they tell me; it’s not like the liver or the stomach. The radium treatment will get rid of it in no time, I suppose. After all, the pancreas is not much bigger than your appendix, and thousands of people have their appendix out, don’t they?”