The Cuckoo Child by Katie Flynn

an orphan, as she was, but Mrs Wilfred Perkin had said that her mother-in-law was looking for a ‘likely lad’, so the old lady’s friendliness and generosity had not been spontaneous. She must have known he was an orphan because of his horrible uniform, guessed that he was also a runaway, and thought that someone homeless, friendless and penniless would be an ideal go-between to assist herself and Wilfred in whatever deep game they were playing.
    By the time he reached Herbee Place again, Corky had made a difficult decision. He had hoped to stay with Mrs Perkin for weeks and weeks, maybe for months, but he had now decided that this would be dangerous. He was horribly aware that he knew very little of the world outside Redwood Grange, but he had always been an avid reader and knew that there were people in London’s underworld who were receivers of stolen goods, and only a little thought had convinced him that Wilfred and his mother were both handling property which was not rightfully theirs.
    However, it would not do to let the Perkins realise that he knew what was going on. He would go along with it whilst he had to, but as soon as he had sufficient money to get away, get away he would. He had no intention of informing on the Perkins – it would be far too dangerous – but before he left them, he thought he might leave a note explaining this and pointing out that, if they pursued him, he might be forced to talk to the coppers, simply in his own defence.
    When he got back to Herbee Place, Mrs Perkin was waiting up for him. She beamed as he entered the kitchen and cut a big slice off a rich-looking fruit cake, then poured him a mug of hot cocoa. ‘I were gettin’ right worried,’ she told him, wrapping her hands round her own mug. ‘Did you get lost? I thought you’d just leave the table with my Wilfred an’ come straight back. What kept you?’
    Corky thought that her tone was a little sharp and found himself wondering whether she had guessed that he had guessed; but it had been a full and exciting day and he was too tired for much more thought. ‘Customers came in while I was unwrapping the table so I had to wait in the shop,’ he explained. ‘It was all right and I didn’t get lost, not goin’ or comin’ back, and Wilf – he told me to call him Wilf – gave me a bob for me trouble,’ he ended.
    Mrs Perkin’s small eyes widened. ‘A shillin’ – a whole shillin’!’ she breathed. ‘Well, I reckon he were pleased with you. I reckon he thought his old ma knew a thing or two when it come to findin’ a good lad. Now, eat up your cake an’ finish your cocoa an’ get yourself up the apples an’ pears, and when you come down in the mornin’ I’ll ’ave a cooked breakfast waitin’ for you.’

Chapter Four
    Corky had not intended to stay indefinitely with Mrs Perkin, but he was sorely tempted to do so when he realised the joys of living in a house with one other person, when that person seemed to enjoy your company and did everything she could to make your stay a pleasant one. Also, Wilf paid Corky well for errands run and it wasn’t only gradually emptying old Mrs Perkin’s spare bedroom; there were other jobs for which a lad was useful. These jobs were not so well paid because they took place in daylight and were, Corky was sure, legitimate business. A man and his wife would come into the shop, admire a dining table and four upholstered dining chairs, and perhaps agree to pay extra to have these items delivered to their home. Corky would then take a handcart from Wilf’s shed in the back yard, help to load the items upon it, and trundle them to their new owners’ abode. Wilf paid him for these duties on a distance basis, though once or twice Corky had been forced to point out that half a mile uphill was a deal harder than half a mile down, and though Wilf always laughed, and exclaimed that his new delivery boy could get blood out of a stone and expected money for nothing, he usually paid up.