He was a tall boy of about thirteen, dressed in ragged trousers and jacket though his heavy boots were obviously new. Brand new, not second hand new. Briony was struck by his appearance because he had the thickest, blackest hair and eyebrows she had ever seen in her life. As she watched him from the cab she saw him stumble into a well-dressed man and apologise profusely before walking on. Briony smiled. He was dipping. She watched as another boy stepped by him and was given the wallet. It was all over in a split second and now the first boy ambled on again, safe in the knowledge that if he was stopped, he had no evidence on his person. Briony was fascinated by it all, and from her vantage point kept a close eye on him.

His next victim was to be a young docker, the worse for drink and also stumbling. She noticed the way that the pickpocket kept his cap pulled down low over his face; his clothes, well-pressed though old, were obviously new to him. He couldn’t quite carry himself in them properly. More used to being ragged arsed. Briony watched the boy bump into the docker, and then it all went wrong. The young man grabbed the boy’s hand like a vice. Briony saw them start struggling and banged on the wooden side of the cab for it to stop. Getting out, she ran over to where the two men were arguing, attracting the attention of more than a few people. She pushed her way through and, without giving it a second’s thought, dragged the dark boy free.

All the people there took in her clothes and assumed she was from the upper classes. She looked it, from her well-shod feet to her fur hat and muff. She looked into the dark boy’s face and in her best imitation of Henry Dumas’ voice, asked: ‘Have you picked up my purchases yet?’

The boy stared at her. She could see his brain seeking the appropriate answer. He was quick enough to know she was trying to help him. It was why she should that was the puzzle.

‘Come on, boy, we’ll go and pick them up now.’ She grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and looked at the docker.

‘You should not imbibe so much drink, young man, you obviously can’t take it. Now get off home.’

She pulled the boy back to the cab and he helped her inside, lifting her arm and guiding her in as if he did it every day of his life. Once settled, they looked at one another.

‘You didn’t get to lift his wallet then?’

Briony’s altered voice was such a shock the boy started to laugh.

She frowned at him. ‘What you bleeding laughing at then? I just helped you out of a very tricky situation.’

The boy roared.