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Worm looked startled.
Claudine flushed with annoyance at herself. She had reacted too strongly. Deliberately she softened her tone. ‘Mrs Monk has told me of a great deal of work that needs to be done. I shall – we shall need you to work very hard. There will be no running off to the river to play. In fact I think it would be best if you were to sleep here all the time, so that if we need you we shall know where you are.’
Worm looked at her with wide eyes. ‘Wot are we goin’ ter do?’ There was excitement in his voice, as if he were being given some kind of special treat.
Hester understood with a deep ache inside her. What Worm needed was to belong. If there were work to do, then he was safe from being sent away.
‘Do you know how to paint?’ Hester suddenly asked.
Worm blinked.
‘Not pictures,’ Hester added quickly. ‘I mean walls. If I gave you a bucket of paint and a big brush, could you paint on to a wall . . . as far as you could reach?’
‘Yes,’ Worm said immediately, staring at her without blinking. He was lying. She knew it, and she knew why. He wanted to please, especially to please Claudine.
‘Good,’ Hester said with complete gravity. ‘You will be very important to us. Will you please be here all the time, until we have it done?’
‘Yes,’ Worm said generously, nodding his head. ‘’Course.’
‘Thank you,’ Claudine replied with great relief.
‘I think I had better make sure Mr Robinson understands exactly what we need.’ Hester looked across Worm’s head directly at Claudine.
Claudine smiled very slightly, but the colour was back in her face.
‘Oh, yes,’ she agreed fervently. ‘Please do.’
‘Paint it!’ Squeaky Robinson said, aghast. He was a lean, scrawny man with a cadaverous face, long, stringy, grey-white hair and wildly uneven teeth. He rose to his feet in outrage as he stared across his littered desk at Hester. ‘Paint what, for Gawd’s sake?’
‘Anything,’ Hester replied. ‘All the door frames to begin with. It can go on from there.’
‘Have you any idea how many doors there are in this place?’ Squeaky demanded. ‘There are dozens!’ he went on without waiting for her to reply. ‘More than dozens!’ he added.
‘Good,’ Hester said quickly. ‘Think what a difference it will make.’
‘I am thinking,’ Squeaky said incredulously. ‘Money! Lots and lots of money. Have you suddenly inherited a fortune you forgot to mention?’ He drew in his breath and carried straight on. ‘And why paint? Why not something we really need, like medicine, or bandages, or new blankets before the ones we’ve got fall to bits? Why not even food, for Gawd’s sake?’
‘We can get those too,’ Hester said reasonably, but knowing she was being totally unreasonable. ‘But we’ll start with paint, one tin at a time.’
Squeaky sat down hard and accidentally scattered half a dozen sheets of paper, sending most of them on to the floor. ‘Paint!’ he howled. ‘And who’s going to use it? You?’
‘No, of course not,’ Hester said sharply.
‘That’s what I thought!’ Squeaky agreed. ‘No! Absolutely not. There’s no money. No . . . money!’
She knew it was time to give in. ‘I know. That isn’t the point, Squeaky. I want Worm occupied. He needs to have something to do that’ll keep him busy all the time. Claudine is going to stand in for me while I’m busy at the hospital. She hasn’t time to worry about Worm . . . and she will do. You know that as well as I do. I’m not having him running off and us all wasting time looking for him, thinking something’s happened to him.’
‘Oh.’ Squeaky stared hard at her. ‘Why didn’t you say so?’
‘I . . .’ She looked at him and wondered why she had not told him plainly. He was almost impossible to deceive, and why did she want to save him fear? Did he really care about one more urchin off the river-bank? Perhaps he did, but he would have his teeth pulled out one by one before he admitted it.
‘I didn’t think you would agree with me,’ she finished.
‘I don’t!’ he said savagely. ‘But I suppose I’ll do it anyway. One tin of paint at a time – no more! I should teach him how to read. Then he’d really be of some damn use!’
‘An excellent idea,’ Hester agreed. ‘But paint the doors first. Let him help you, not you helping him. He mustn’t run away.’
Squeaky stared at her.
