Dodger by Terry Pratchett Page B

beating this young lady had – and I suspect had not endured for the first time – has in some way tangled her wits, so unfortunately I cannot introduce you properly. “Simplicity” will suffice for a name, a good Christian name, until we know more. And the name belonged to an old friend of mine, and so I am fond of it. She is quite young and one must hope that she will heal rapidly. At the moment, however, I keep the curtains mostly closed to keep out as much as possible of the noise of carriages in the streets – they appear to make Simplicity fearful. However, I’m glad to see that her physical faculties seem to be coming back slowly and the bruises are fading. Unfortunately I am led to believe that her life in recent times has not been . . . pleasant, although there are signs that at one time it may have been rather more . . . agreeable. After all, surely somebody must have cared for her to give her that wonderful ring she wears.’
    Dodger didn’t need to know the precise code that passed between Mister Mayhew and his wife, but he could see that much of it consisted of meaningful looks from one to the other, and one of the messages was: Better not to talk about a valuable ring in front of this lad.
    He said, ‘She gets worried when she hears carriages, does she? What about other street noises, like horses or honey wagons 1 – they tend to rumble a lot?’
    Mrs Mayhew said, ‘You are a very astute young man.’
    Dodger blushed, and said, ‘I’m sorry, missus, but my best trousers are in the wash.’
    Without any change of expression, Mrs Mayhew said, ‘No, Mister Dodger, I meant that you are very quick to understand things, and you are a man of the world, or should I say London, which is practically the same thing. I know that Mister Dickens is optimistic that you may be able to help us solve this little mystery.’ She exchanged another glance with her husband and said, ‘I assume you know that there was another most unpleasant aspect to this whole Satanic business.’ She hesitated, as if trying to move unpleasant thoughts in her mind, then said, ‘I believe you are aware that the young lady was . . . she was . . . she lost . . .’ Mrs Mayhew rushed out in embarrassed confusion, leaving the room suddenly silent.
    Dodger glanced at Simplicity, and then said to Mister Mayhew, ‘Sir, if you do not object, I would very much like to talk to Simplicity alone. Possibly I can also help her eat her soup. I have a feeling she might be capable of talking a little to me again.’
    ‘Well, it would be unseemly to leave a young lady alone in a bedroom in your company.’
    ‘Yes, sir, and it’s unseemly to beat a lady half to death and try to drown her, but that wasn’t me, sir. So I think, sir, in the privacy of this house, you might allow the rule to be a little more . . . human?’
    There was the sound of Mrs Mayhew hovering on the landing and Henry Mayhew, suddenly bewildered, stirred and said, ‘I will leave the door open, sir. If Miss Simplicity agrees.’
    His words were instantly followed from the bed with the unmistakable tones of Simplicity, saying, ‘Please, sir, I would very much like to have a Christian word with my saviour.’
    True to his word, Mister Mayhew did leave the door slightly ajar and so, awkwardly for once, Dodger sat down on the chair that Henry Mayhew’s wife had vacated and smiled nervously at Simplicity, who returned it with considerable interest. Then he picked up the soup spoon and handed it to her, saying, ‘What is it that you would like to happen next?’
    Her smile broadening, Simplicity very gently took the spoon, put it to her mouth and drank the soup. Speaking quietly, she said, ‘I would like to say that I want to go home, but I have no home now. And I have to know who I can trust. Can I trust you, Dodger? I think I might be able to trust a man who has fought valiantly for a woman he doesn’t even know.’
    Dodger tried to look as though this was all