The Long Walk Home Read Online Free PDF Page B

and hungrily devoured the food. Easiest money I've ever made, she thought as she chewed. If I had somewhere else to live I could manage on my own. I need enough money for a room but I'm not going to beg for it, nor slave in a factory or mill.
    Having finished eating, Bridget got to her feet and wandered aimlessly down towards the Market Place. There was generally something going on there: traders shouting out their wares, preachers telling of kingdom come, soldiers on leave idling away their precious time and eyeing up the girls. Hm, she mused. Soldiers with a coin or two to spare.
    She caught sight of Rosie Quinn and her mother in front of her and slowed down so that she didn't have to speak to them. She only cultivated Rosie's friendship because of Mikey. Whiney little Rosie, she thought. As if I'd have her as my friend, a bairn like her! But Mikey! He wasn't like any other lads she knew, and when he was older, say in a year or two, he would look at her with different eyes. They would be good together, she knew. He was nice-looking now in a boyish way, with a humorous gleam in his eyes, but he would become handsome and all the girls in the district would be after him; but he'll be mine.
    She continued into the Market Place, walking with a swagger, swinging her hips, her head held high. There was nothing demure about Bridget Turner; she was confident and aware of her own good looks, her dark glossy hair and green eyes, and aware too of the admiring glances cast her way by men old and young, pouting and tossing her head or giving an appealing smile when she thought it was merited.
    'Hello, Biddy,' Jamie, a local man with a dubious reputation, called to her, but she ignored him, not even acknowledging him.
    I'll not speak to the likes of him, she thought. Dirt, that's what he is. He should be in jail. He uses women to line his own pocket. Well, he'll not use me. I'm above that. I'll give myself to a man when it suits me, not before.
    Her plan was to meet a rich older man who would buy her nice clothes, give her flowers, chocolate and perfume and pander to her every whim. They would leave Hull and live somewhere like London in a grand house and have their own smart carriage. She had not yet fathomed out how she would attract such a man, for she knew in her heart that she was shabby and poor, and in spite of her beauty he wouldn't even notice her if she should meet him.
    She continued on, stopping for an occasional chat with stallholders who offered her an apple or an orange and asked for nothing in return— or not at the moment anyway, she thought, smiling sweetly as she accepted, thinking that most people did nothing for nothing. She passed the apothecary's shop and pondered that he had a son worth cultivating. Oliver Walker was young and handsome and had good prospects, but she shuddered as she thought of the boredom of being wed to a man in such a dull profession and having to stay in this town, when she longed for excitement and the chance to travel to other places.
    'Now then!' A uniformed policeman stood in front of her, barring her way. 'And where are you off to?'
    Bridget frowned. Why had he stopped her? She was doing nothing, just wandering about. Then her face cleared. He wasn't a street bobby, though he wore the top hat and white gloves and carried a rattle. He was the prison officer who had let her in to see Mikey.
    He grinned at her. 'Didn't recognize me, did you?'
    'I'll be honest, I didn't. I didn't know you all dressed up in your best topper and gloves,' she said. 'Quite a dandy, ain't yer?'
    He nodded. 'We're supposed to keep toppers on at all times, but my head itches sometimes, wearing it all day.'
    She gazed at him. He was an enormous man, rotund and very tall, towering above her. He hadn't asked for much of a favour in return for his. Merely to slip his hand inside her blouse to touch her breast and nipple, and she hadn't minded that.
    'Are you on duty at Kingston Street?' she asked innocently. 'That's