The Body at the Tower Read Online Free PDF

up for long. The last thing she needed was for a kindly employer to research her story. Finally, she looked up. Her face was warm with tension, but Harkness must have seen what he was looking for.
    “Never be ashamed to admit want, if it is not your fault,” he said quietly.
    Mary nodded slightly. “Yes, sir.” Where was this conversation leading?
    “I have nothing better for you at the moment, Quinn.”
    Mary frowned. “Nothing better…?”
    “Than a post as general errand boy. Not right now.”
    “That’s all I want, sir,” she stammered, trying to salvage her role. “I just need…”
    But Harkness was shaking his head. “I don’t know when something more suited to your abilities will come along. But do your best and prove yourself, and we’ll see. He shall provide.”
    “‘He’, Mr Harkness?”
    “The Lord, child.”
    “Of course, the Lord.” She ought to have guessed.
    “You’ll work under the bricklayers, assisting with any tasks they set you. Their foreman’s named Keenan. You’ll also be in charge of making tea in time for elevenses. One of the other boys, Jenkins, will show you the routine. Mine is a teetotal building site, Quinn, so if the men send you for spirits, you’re not to oblige. Hot tea is all that’s required to sustain the soul, not the offerings of the public house.”
    Mary nodded. She wasn’t sure about souls, but she now had a good idea about Harkness’s popularity among the men.
    “And – er – since you are better educated than the average errand boy, Quinn, you may find that the others – well, they may not take to you as quickly as they might to someone of their own class. In those instances, remember, child, to turn the other cheek, and also that from those to whom much is given…” Harkness paused expectantly.
    “Much is expected,” mumbled Mary. The look of gratification on Harkness’s face was familiar. “May I go, sir?”
    Twitch . “Yes, yes, run along.”
    She was only too relieved to flee. Three minutes and two colossal mistakes. At this rate, she’d not last the hour. After all that work – cutting her hair, Felicity’s coaching – she had failed the very first challenge. Even more humiliating, the role of a poor working child was not unfamiliar to her: after her mother’s death, she had indeed been poor, uneducated and desperate. She’d been homeless, at times. She’d gone hungry. She’d passed as a boy to avoid rape. But today’s abysmal performance showed how deeply she’d lost touch with that part of her childhood. It came as a profound and unwelcome shock.

Five

    M ary circled the building site, looking for a stack of bricks and men with trowels. It was a good opportunity to walk the site and explore its corners. It was a cramped, untidy place to work, with a great number of labourers moving awkwardly about the large tower at its centre. St Stephen’s Tower was the last element of the Palace to be built. With the Houses of Parliament in daily use and densely built-up streets all around, there was little space to store building materials and equipment except in the construction zone. Wherever the workers stood, the Palace loomed over them, making a pinched space feel even smaller.
    All the same, Mary wondered if there might be a more efficient way of doing things. She felt her ignorance here. If she knew more about building practices, she’d be better able to assess Harkness’s efficiency as an engineer in charge. Not for the first time since accepting this assignment, she thought of James Easton. She would have given much for his assessment of the site, and the job. But this was an entirely theoretical temptation: James was in India, and she’d never see him again.
    Eventually, she noticed a fair-haired man, whistling as he slapped some mortar onto a mortar board. “’Scuse me – you Mr Keenan?” Mary kept her diction indistinct, a little reluctant. She could try to blur her accent a bit more, but the fact remained that