empty far too quickly. It was tempting to bring in the other baskets, safely covered up in the wagon, but then there would be nothing left for the other neighbourhoods she must visit.
They didn't stop at every door and Nora wondered if port would notice the doors without the discreet marker that indicated The Cat was welcome.
Not everyone was receptive to her aid and reciprocally, not everyone was deserving of her efforts. Nora had decided ages ago that there were some who her efforts could not drunks and ne'er-do-wells who didn't lift a finger to help their families or change their lots in life.
Climbing back up on the wagon, amid cries of gratitude and wishes for a Happy Christmas, Nora gave directions and they drove on to repeat the process. The day passed rapidly as they moved from slum to slum, stopping in Chorlton-on-Medlock, and Beswick, the neighborhoods all
the same with
their uniformly terraced workers' houses.
84
Pickpocket Countess
The last visit was Anacoats, the poorest section of all, where she stopped at Widow Mary Malone's.
Nora knocked on the door. Excited voices of children whooped and shouted on the other side, followed by a light scolding for manners and a of coughing. Her heart sank. Desperation seized Nora and she gathered her strength for what lay beyond the door. If she didn't think of some way to help the widow recover, the children would be orphans by spring.
'What is it?' Stockport asked quietly, coming up beside her, so near she could feel the heat of his body next to her.
'It doesn't sound like Mary
has got better. She took
sick in November and that cough has been lingering.'
she seen a doctor?'
Nora shot him an incredulous look. 'If they had that much money, she probably wouldn't need one in the first place.' She pushed open the door and entered, leaving S tockport to follow in her wake. No matter what lay ahead, the kids deserved the best
she could manage for them. Originally, she'd felt very good about the entire basket she'd put aside for the Malones. But now, Nora felt like the basket was inadequate.
She should have done more.
The moment she entered, children ran to her, dancing around her skirts and begging to be picked up. She picked up the smallest, a blonde-haired girl of three with huge brown eyes that gave her an irresistible doll-like appearance. 'Anna, have you been a good girl?'
The little girl nodded solemnly,
on a dirty thumb.
She pointed at Stockport. 'Who's dat man?'
'He's my special helper today,' Nora said, setting her basket down on the one table in the room. The two older boys looked at the basket in anticipation and Nora gathered them to her.
'I've brought treats for a
dinner.
need your help
getting everything ready. I might even have a few presents.'
Scott
85
She assigned the boys their tasks, set aside her figure-dis-guising voluminous cloak and veiling and rolled up the sleeves of her dark blouse. She looked around the room for Stockport, amazed to find him deep in conversation with Mary He'd discarded his greatcoat and had rolled his own shirtsleeves up. He nodded at something Mary said and leaned over to tuck a thin blanket about her knees.
Nora put a kettle on over the fire to warm the hearty soup she'd brought and set to sweeping. Mary did the best she could, but since her illness, she'd been less able to keep the two rooms clean. All her waning energies were spent on providing food and meals for her three children. By now there had to be very little money left from her husband's death settlement.
Nora worried what Mary would do when the money ran out.
She certainly couldn't work in her condition. Her oldest son, eleven-year-old Michael, was
at the hat factory, but the
two shillings and three pence he brought home weekly would barely be enough for bread, let alone rent or other living supplies.
Nora cast a quick look at Mary's younger son, Robert. He was six and old enough to work as a scavenger, one of the many who crawled beneath
They didn't stop at every door and Nora wondered if port would notice the doors without the discreet marker that indicated The Cat was welcome.
Not everyone was receptive to her aid and reciprocally, not everyone was deserving of her efforts. Nora had decided ages ago that there were some who her efforts could not drunks and ne'er-do-wells who didn't lift a finger to help their families or change their lots in life.
Climbing back up on the wagon, amid cries of gratitude and wishes for a Happy Christmas, Nora gave directions and they drove on to repeat the process. The day passed rapidly as they moved from slum to slum, stopping in Chorlton-on-Medlock, and Beswick, the neighborhoods all
the same with
their uniformly terraced workers' houses.
84
Pickpocket Countess
The last visit was Anacoats, the poorest section of all, where she stopped at Widow Mary Malone's.
Nora knocked on the door. Excited voices of children whooped and shouted on the other side, followed by a light scolding for manners and a of coughing. Her heart sank. Desperation seized Nora and she gathered her strength for what lay beyond the door. If she didn't think of some way to help the widow recover, the children would be orphans by spring.
'What is it?' Stockport asked quietly, coming up beside her, so near she could feel the heat of his body next to her.
'It doesn't sound like Mary
has got better. She took
sick in November and that cough has been lingering.'
she seen a doctor?'
Nora shot him an incredulous look. 'If they had that much money, she probably wouldn't need one in the first place.' She pushed open the door and entered, leaving S tockport to follow in her wake. No matter what lay ahead, the kids deserved the best
she could manage for them. Originally, she'd felt very good about the entire basket she'd put aside for the Malones. But now, Nora felt like the basket was inadequate.
She should have done more.
The moment she entered, children ran to her, dancing around her skirts and begging to be picked up. She picked up the smallest, a blonde-haired girl of three with huge brown eyes that gave her an irresistible doll-like appearance. 'Anna, have you been a good girl?'
The little girl nodded solemnly,
on a dirty thumb.
She pointed at Stockport. 'Who's dat man?'
'He's my special helper today,' Nora said, setting her basket down on the one table in the room. The two older boys looked at the basket in anticipation and Nora gathered them to her.
'I've brought treats for a
dinner.
need your help
getting everything ready. I might even have a few presents.'
Scott
85
She assigned the boys their tasks, set aside her figure-dis-guising voluminous cloak and veiling and rolled up the sleeves of her dark blouse. She looked around the room for Stockport, amazed to find him deep in conversation with Mary He'd discarded his greatcoat and had rolled his own shirtsleeves up. He nodded at something Mary said and leaned over to tuck a thin blanket about her knees.
Nora put a kettle on over the fire to warm the hearty soup she'd brought and set to sweeping. Mary did the best she could, but since her illness, she'd been less able to keep the two rooms clean. All her waning energies were spent on providing food and meals for her three children. By now there had to be very little money left from her husband's death settlement.
Nora worried what Mary would do when the money ran out.
She certainly couldn't work in her condition. Her oldest son, eleven-year-old Michael, was
at the hat factory, but the
two shillings and three pence he brought home weekly would barely be enough for bread, let alone rent or other living supplies.
Nora cast a quick look at Mary's younger son, Robert. He was six and old enough to work as a scavenger, one of the many who crawled beneath
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