But Lotti, who had lost her parents to a storm on a cloudless day, knew that the Sparrowhawk needed more than luck. She thought of Jack, Frank and Jim’s little brother, who had taken a drawing of Nathan’s starling with him to the war.

Rings and pictures were powerful things, but sometimes you needed people.

She waited a little longer until she was sure Ben wouldn’t wake up, then climbed out of her berth, pulled on her clothes and, with Federico for courage, slipped away from the Sparrowhawk.

Chapter Seventeen

Lotti and Federico stood on the edge of the basin with the water behind them, facing the row of buildings that stood between them and the Thames.

Going to the pub, Jim had said, but which one? There were at least three.

“We’ll have to try them all,” she told Federico.

In all her life, Lotti had never set foot inside a pub. The first she came to was a soot-stained brick building. A man sat on a stool outside with a tankard in one hand and a pipe in the other, and stared curiously as Lotti went in. She squared her shoulders and pushed open the door.

The air was thick with smoke and the smell of beer, and the noise was deafening. In one corner, a group sang, huddled around a man bashing away at a piano. In another, a group of men were shouting, something to do with a bet, and money that someone did or didn’t owe. Lotti stood with her back against the door and surveyed the room, eyes flicking from bar to piano, table to barstool. There was no sign here of Frank and Jim. She slipped away and moved on to the next pub, a low stone building. Here she found a quieter crowd, intent on a game of cards.

“What you after?” the landlord shouted as she peered in. “No kids allowed, and no dogs.”

Lotti beat a hasty retreat. Frank and Jim were not here either.

It was properly dark now, and the dockside smelled of fish and coal and diesel oil. Lotti stepped over a bulk sprawled on the ground. The bulk groaned and she realized it was a person.

“I’m ever so sorry.”

From the ground, something flew past her ear, only just missing her head, and crashed on the quayside in an explosion of glass and whisky fumes.

Federico growled. Lotti tugged at his collar and ran toward the third pub, straight into Frank who was strolling out with Jim.

“Should have known it was you when I heard trouble, Charlie.”

Lotti peered back toward the drunk on the ground.

“I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

“Course you didn’t,” said Jim. “Want a lemonade?”

“No, thank you. I’ve come to talk.”

They sat on a bench outside the pub. Lotti waited as Frank lit his pipe.

“All right, then. What’s this all about?”