Chapter Text
The circus of society was not a welcoming place, especially for the poverty-stricken side-shows that almost never made it to the main stage.
Evelyn had been jumping through hoops for as long as she could remember. England’s elite rarely gave her a second glance, especially in the grungy town of Camden. Also known as the ugly step sister to London.
Soft rain pattered the windows of the Main Street storefronts. People raced from shop to shop trying to escape the growing mist around them. Car tires sloshed through the puddles and down the paved paths to reach their destinations. This city had been her home for her entire life. She’d had the luxury of traveling to London every few years, but Camden was in her blood.
It was all she knew, and frankly, she had no desire to know anywhere else.
Evelyn trailed the shadows between alleyways. To an onlooker, she must have seemed like a child playing hide and seek with a parent. In reality, though, she was covertly following the doctor in front of her, waiting for him to leave his bag unattended for just a few moments so she could snatch it up and take its contents for herself.
She was a tiny one, no taller than a prepubescent boy but with the figure of a woman. Graceful and dainty in her movements, Evelyn’s soft exterior was hidden beneath a tough image. She had a sharp tongue that could cut through steel, destroying grown men and knocking socialites off their seemingly undefeated pedestals. Her brown eyes looked black in the foggy air of Camden, locking onto targets without so much as a blink.
She’d been following the doctor for a few hours now. In his leather case he had enough medicine to sell off and buy food for at least a few months, if she could score all of it.
The next meal was always the biggest priority, especially when it came to the city’s population of the unwanted and invisible. Aside from the religious institutions that pretended to care about the poor, everyone tended to ignore them. The poor’s suffering was consequential to their own wealth.
The mansions and gorgeous townhomes that housed the rich only served as a reminder that there are indeed different social classes, all with their own necessities. For Evelyn, her worldly desires were considered as basic as food and water for high society.
Evelyn squatted in a dilapidated house on the outskirts of the city with a few others. It had been deemed unsafe to live in, so as soon as the area was vacant, they swooped in to grab it.
There were a few of them, but they all lived by one simple rule: every man for himself. Putting others first was a privilege reserved for the wealthy. Her entire life was a race to a finish line that may not even exist. That idea terrified her, but not enough to make her stop.
Being poor was no longer a weakness for Evie; it was how she survived.
Evelyn made a living as a thief. It was a simple life, filled with just enough happiness to get past the omniscient grief of her economic status. Female society-goers looked down upon her like tar beneath an overused tire. Men wanted to fuck her and then toss her back into the filth like a used cigarette.
Even now, as Evelyn slid through the shadows after the doctor, men would stare a second longer than socially acceptable. She wasn’t a woman, she was a conquest. These “gentlemen” got off on the chase. Being with her would be like being somewhere they didn’t belong. It was a thrill as much as an escapade.
The doctor took a turn down a residential street, the crowds decreasing dramatically. She noticed a hat lying unaccompanied on top of a car at the corner. She grabbed it and placed it on her dark hair, covering her face and shading over her features. Her thin coat did little to block the sweeping wind from her skin, only acting as a thin barrier so she wouldn't freeze. Her fingers had gone numb in the ratty mittens she found years ago in the gutter.
She followed the doctor, always a few steps behind to not draw attention to herself. She was good at that, being inconspicuous. She could melt into a crowd faster than wax to a flame.
The man looked at a small piece of paper, up at a building and down again. All the homes were connected, and looked like cookie cutters of one another. It wasn’t the most expensive neighborhood, but Evelyn knew that, compared to her own dwellings, it looked posh. The red brick stood out from the otherwise neutral street. Minimal foliage suggested that the families who lived here were factory workers or shipyard employees just trying to make ends meet.
The doctor stopped halfway down the road. It looked like he had found the home of his next patient. Evelyn had just enough time to come up with a believable plan. He knocked on a door, opening to reveal a middle aged woman with an irritated expression. She motioned him in with a rushed wave of the hand, closing the door behind them.
Evelyn snuck around to the side of the building, peeking through the window. The doctor was treating a elderly woman, most likely the grandmother of the house. Guilt sidled into Evelyn’s mind thinking that she would be taking from people who need it.
Every man for himself, she thought.
Forty minutes later, the door opened and the doctor walked back onto the stoop, shaking the woman’s hand before leaving. It was time for Evelyn to make her move. As he began walking back to the mainstreet, Evelyn popped out from behind the home. She purposely tripped, knocking into the doctor and sending his bag flying to the ground.
The clasp that held the fine leather together snapped and sent medical instruments flying. She could hear the sound of the glass medical containers clinking together, hopefully not breaking before she had a chance to steal them.
“Oh, goodness!” she said in her most femenine, societal voice. “I’m terribly sorry. My grandmother needs your help again. She’s having some sort of seizing episode!” Evelyn put her hand on her chest to feign calming her exaggerated breaths. “You must come back and help her, hurry!”
The doctor looked flustered, glancing to the home before looking back at his items that laid strewn on the ground. His stethoscope was in the middle of the road, a blood pressure cuff a few feet away as well. He hesitated, clearly divided on what was a priority.
“I’ll collect your things and bring them in, please go help her!” He hesitated again. “Hurry!” Evelyn spat at him. He jumped in place and quickly turned on his heels, headed back to the house.
Evelyn gathered his items and began placing them back into the expensive bag, which would be worth a pretty penny even without the medicine in it. The doctor made it to the door and looked at Evelyn, who began walking in his direction. When he saw all his belongings were safe, he disappeared behind the door.
“Idiot,” Evelyn mumbled. As soon as the door was shut, she bolted in the opposite direction. By the time the doctor realized what happened she would be long gone, swallowed by the shadows of Camden.
She made it to the edge of the city, slightly out of breath from running. Her coat had fallen beneath her elbows as she ran. The cold bit at her shoulders like mosquitos on a lake. She had removed her jacket to drape over the expensive bag, protecting it from accusing or cunning eyes.
Her home looked abandoned, which for the most part, it was. Planks of wood covered a majority of the windows that had been smashed by people and inclimate weather. It was technically two stories, but she and a few others only lived on the first floor for fear that the rotted wood floors would collapse at the tiniest of movements. The door was welded shut, her attempt at keeping others out. It worked well enough. If that plan didn’t work, a wooden pistol sure did the trick.
She walked past a sign labeled CONDEMNED and around to the back, over the errant pieces of garbage and collapsed steel that littered the ground like children’s toys in a nursery. These windows, too, were paneled shut. Eveyln jumped atop a partially deflated tire leaning against the weathered walls. She leaned towards a widow and removed the wood blocking her passage. It was the only way inside the home.
She took the handle of the bag and gently flung it inside, followed by her legs. Her short height allowed for easy entry over the window sill and through the frame. Evelyn had done this so many times, she could manage it even with a few shots of rum in her system.
Moses sat at the makeshift kitchen table, uncrumpling bank notes from his pocket. “That was quick,” he noted without moving his eyes from the money.
“What can I say, I’m just that good,” she replied, dumping the medial bag on the neatly folded papers and sending them flying to the floor.
“Bloody hell, I was counting that!” He leant down to pick up the money, but Evelyn stood arrogantly in place.
“Fuck the small notes, I caught a big one today.” Moses and Evelyn had friends for years. They met on the streets, built a friendship on the streets and predicted that’s how they would spend the rest of their lives. He was a scraggly, ginger-haired boy when she found him. In perspective, she probably didn’t look much better. He was tall, and years of working in the factories had given him a thick build that made him a formidable opponent on the streets of Camden.
To Evelyn, though, he was just Moses. Her friend. Her makeshift brother. She wouldn’t have survived without him.
“What’d you do?” he asked, skepticism written plainly across his features. “Can they track it back to us?”
“I took it miles from here. Plus the guy was so rich he can afford a new one.” Evelyn dumped the contents of the bag on the table. Medical instruments dropped out, along with tiny bottles of morphine.
“What do we do with it?”
“Sell it.”
“To who?”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “I don’t give a fuck who, as long as we make enough money to feed ourselves for at least month.” Moses nodded his head, thinking. “Well?” she asked.
He looked up at her, before breaking into a kind smile. “Good work. I know of some guys at the factory who would go for it.” Evelyn smiled, subconsciously seeking validation yet never admitting that she needed it in the first place.
Evelyn walked into the living room, now torn apart from rotting wood and termites. The blanket and pillow on the floor laid untouched.
“Did she come back yet?” Evelyn had opened her doors for a few people passing through. Her heart was hardened, but she wasn’t cruel. If someone needed a place to stay, she would always offer. In the past week, a young mother, named Anna, and her child who needed somewhere to sleep before they traveled to London. She told Evelyn they wouldn't be leaving until tomorrow, but had yet to return to the home.
She suspected the woman was a prostitute, but never passed judgement.
Those who lived in ratty houses shouldn't throw stones, after all.
“I haven’t seen them,” Moses replied. “Probably for the best. I wouldn't trust her in the same place as this morphine.”
Evelyn just nodded. “Perhaps.”
“I’m working the factory the rest of the week. Will you be alright here, on your own.”
“I was fine before you came along, wasn't I?” Evelyn didn’t mean to spit her words out with such contempt, but sometimes she couldn't help it. There were many things that lit rage in her blood, but the idea that she couldn’t take care of herself took anger to a whole other level.
“You know that’s not what I mean, Ev.”
She took a deep breath, steadying her thoughts. “I know, I’m sorry. I just-”
“I know you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself.”
“I get it, you’re just looking out for me. It’s a sore spot for me.”
Moses got out of his chair, the wood creaking as the weight was lifted off. He stood in front of Evelyn and grabbed her by the shoulders. “I worry, that’s all.” Evelyn smiled apologetically, nodding her head. For years people viewed her as a little girl who couldn’t survive on her own, and that mentality stuck with her through childhood and into adulthood. At twenty-four years old, she had long proven that she was more than capable of taking care of herself.
Evelyn removed herself from his grasp, the closeness making her feel uneasy. She had never been one to seek affection. “If you’re not going to the factory until tomorrow, what are we going to do for food? We need something to hold us over until you can sell the morphine.”
“I’m not sure,” Moses replied. “I can go down to that bakery on Main Street and see if they have any stale bread in the trash.”
“Let me,” Evelyn said, feeling a bit guilty for snapping at her friend.
“You already did enough today, Ev. Stay here.”
“And sit on my arse waiting? Fat chance, that is. I’ll go, you stay and count the morphine. Maybe Anna will be back too. I’m sure she’d like to see a familiar face.”
Moses was hesitant, but agreed. “I’m much nicer than you anyways.”
Evelyn stuck her tongue out like a child, starkly contrasting the worn-down environment around her. Moses always admired how Evelyn never let their circumstances break her snarky spirit.
She went near the fireplace in the dusty living room and warmed her hands, preparing for yet another adventure in the damp, cold air. The wood was running low, she would have to get some more of that as well.
Some days, it seemed as though laziness outweighed the effort to stay alive with the basic necessities.
With a final wave goodbye to Moses, Evelyn crawled through the window and placed the wood back in its resting spot. They would have to find a new home soon. She could see the roofing slowly caving in under the pressure of the collapsed panels. They had only been there for a few months, but finding shelter like this was a rare opportunity. It was only a matter of time before it collapsed in on itself, and she didn’t want to be stuck inside when it happened.
She felt a prick in her finger, looking down to see yet another splinter lodged into her calloused hand. Her once soft skin transformed with the lifestyle, becoming a hardened shell for Evelyn to hide behind. It had seen too many injuries to account for, yet still remained her chipped battle armor that protected her from life’s ugliest features.
Poverty wasn’t a secret in Camden. People treated the poor like a wife to her husband’s mistress: always there but never spoken of.
As the evening wound down, the city got quiet. Only the occasional car honks on the damp street distracted Evelyn from her constant musings. She watched a young boy hold on to his mother’s hand, jumping from puddle to puddle without a care in the world. A sharp wave of envy came over her, shoving past the hope it took so long for her to build. Why could she not have a childhood like that? One filled with love and comfort that poverty never gave her.
Her mother had passed away when she was just an adolescent. An unrelenting cold had encompassed the city one winter season, seeping into people’s lungs and killing them slowly. Eveyln’s mother fell victim to the sickness, weakening her body until it finally gave in.
Her death broke Evelyn into pieces.
Watching the young boy, she only wished she could hold her mother’s hand, one last time.
Main Street was home to shops and markets of all sizes, but most noticeable was the bakery at the end of the lane. The small storefront largely contrasted the giant buildings behind it. The scent of fresh bread wafted around the entrance like fairy dust. Because it was Saturday, the Jewish day of rest, the bakery had a large CLOSED sign hanging from the glass door.
“Well that’s lucky,” Evelyn whispered under her breath. Less people, less worry of getting caught. All she wanted was a few loaves of bread to stick beneath her jacket.
Business we’re required to leave their trash on the street. It wasn’t there, so that must mean they already disposed of it and she needed to find a new plan.
She moseyed over to the alley next to the store. With a building so big, there must be multiple entrances. She looked around the corner, noticing that the alley was a dead end. There was a man guarding a heavy door. It seemed odd to Evelyn, that a bakery needed night guards.
Whatever the case, the door looked to be popped open, allowing the cold air to relieve the workers of the hot atmosphere in the building. Now that’s just too easy. It only took her a few moments to devise a simple plan. Hopefully, if luck really was on her side, the bread would be just beyond that door.
It was time for action.
“Please help!” she ran around the corner, clutching her arm. Red stained the sleeve of her coat. Her eyes were panicked, immediately grabbing the guard’s attention. “I’ve been stabbed!”
The man met her halfway down the alley. “Fuckin’ hell, are you alright?” he asked.
She looked at him incredulously. “No, I’m not fuckin’ alright. A man stabbed me and took my purse. My month’s wages are in there, I have to get it back!” She shot him a look that left no room for questions, before flashing what she called helpless eyes at the poor guy. Lashes fluttered up and down as her features twisted in pain. “Please,” she begged.
The man ran out the alley as quickly as possible. “He went left, all the way down Main Street,” she yelled after him. Then, she waited.
Three, two, one. She stood up straight, unclenching the hand she had around her “stab wound,” revealing squished raspberries in her palm. “That was easy,” she said, opening the metal door and getting hit with a wall of hot air.
She took a sharp right, leading her up a short set of steps and into the bakery storefront. Her body was crouched to avoid any passerby’s peeking at her curiously. The displayed bread baskets and case were empty to keep the pastries from going stale. There must have been some kind of storage cupboard.
She searched high and low, silently opening drawers and cupboards only to come up empty.
“Bloody hell,” she whispered. She reached for the cash register, but knew it was locked before she even tugged the little handle. Time was running short. She watched the guard run past the window, still unaware of her motives.
In the corner of her eye, there was a bin placed neatly out of sight of customers. Lifting the top, she breathed a sigh of relief. She picked up a loaf. It was untouched, most likely the leftovers from Friday’s bake. There were about four loaves and a few pastries, a bit stale but they still smelt delicious to Evelyn.
She quickly grabbed the medium-sized sack that she had stuck in her waistline beneath her jacket. She threw the pieces in, put the bag over her shoulder and made her way quickly to the alley door. The guard was back. “Fuck,” she said under her breath.
Making her way back to the storefront, she silently unlocked the main door. When the street was relatively clear of people, she opened the door. A bell sang from above her, causing her to jump. She slid between the doorframe and the glass, stopping the door with the tips of her fingers. She eased it closed very slowly, praying the bell wouldn’t ring again. Once she was in the clear, Evelyn walked away as inconspicuous as possible.
She did it. With a small smile, she turned the corner, whistling the entire way home.
Too bad she didn’t notice the notorious gang leader, smoking a cigarette from the roof, eyes trained on her figure until she was completely out of sight.
Whether it was the fact that someone slipped through his security, or that said someone had the balls to even try, for the first time in over thirty years, Alfie Solomons was left entirely speechless.