The Unseen by Katherine Webb Page B

you usually win? That man had longer arms than you, and he was taller. But you beat him easily.’
    ‘Not that easily.’ George dabs at the cut on his brow, the muslin staining red. ‘What these other fellows don’t seem to know, you see, is that it’s not how hard you can hit that’ll win you the fight, it’s how hard you can be hit.’
    ‘And you can be hit hard, can you?’
    ‘My father saw to it. He trained me from an early age,’ George says, still smiling but the gleam fading from his eyes.
    ‘Well, my father was always kind to me, and somehow that was worse,’ Cat says, folding her arms.
    ‘I heard something said about your father,’ George admits.
    ‘Whatever it was, it was wrong, I promise you that.’ She stands in front of him, only a fraction taller even though he is sitting down. ‘So, will you buy me a drink with your winnings, or won’t you?’
    ‘I will, Cat Morley. I will,’ George tells her.
    ‘You might put your shirt back on,’ she suggests, archly.
    With the fight over the pub begins to empty, men straggling off to their homes and their unforgiving spouses. Cat and George walk along to the bridge. The night has darkened to black, and Cat stares blindly along the towpath when they reach it, suddenly loath to set out along it, to return to her cramped attic room and Mrs Bell’s noisy sleep.
    ‘Let me walk you. Have you not brought a light with you?’ George asks, mistaking her reluctance for a fear of the dark.
    ‘No. You needn’t, I’ll be fine. The path is simple enough,’ Cat says. They stop walking, turn towards each other, faces blurred by the darkness.
    ‘Aren’t you afraid, Cat?’ he asks, puzzled.
    ‘Afraid of what?’
    ‘To be walking out with me, when you hardly know me. To be seen with me.’

    ‘I don’t think you mean me harm, but if I’m wrong it’s my own fault. And as for being seen with you – surely if you’ve asked about me you’ll have been told that I’m a sullied outcast, and a criminal, and quite possibly a killer. These are some of the whispers I’ve heard. My reputation can’t be made worse than it is. So, aren’t you afraid to be seen with me, instead?’ She smiles, mischievously. George laughs softly, and she likes the sound. A low, bouncing chuckle.
    ‘I mean you no harm, you have that right. As for the rest of it, I scarce gave it any credit until you came marching into the fight tonight. Now I think, a girl who’ll do that, unescorted and unafraid, might just have done some of the things I heard about!’
    ‘I did … I did do something. And I have been in prison for it – that part is true. And what was done to me and others like me was far worse than we deserved, far worse than our crime, if crime it was. And after it, I find I’m not afraid. Not of gossip and rumours, or the wretched, petty hags who put them about either,’ Cat says, angrily. ‘And now you will ask me what I did, and what happened thereafter,’ she sighs. Such questions seem to dog her, hanging from her neck like dead weights.
    ‘No, I won’t. If you want to tell it, I’ll listen; but it’s not my business,’ George says, hurriedly. Cat stares along the water again to where it is swallowed whole by the night. There is a nip in the air now, and she shivers. ‘I’ll walk you back. Not all the way to the door, if you’re worried about being seen. I’ll bet you can move with the stealth of a ghost, when you need to,’ George says.
    ‘Black Cat, they used to call me – in London. For that very reason.’ She smiles. ‘It’s two miles to the village, that’s four for you to walk, and after you’ve fought tonight. Stay here on your boat, and rest. Don’t feel obliged to play the gentleman this evening,’ she argues. George clears his throat, folds his arms to mirror her.
    ‘I would walk those four miles to keep talking to you, Cat Morley. How’s that for a reason?’

    Cat studies him for a moment, and thinks about insisting. But then she