JACK OF DIAMONDS, REDUX

Chapter 2: To be edited

CHAPTER 2

Artie followed Reggie (in) through the (open) kitchen door, carrying (two) large crates of (dirty) beets. The kitchen was well-lit, open and spacious, (and) kept warm by a large black stove with a coal scuttle (backed) (lodged) (up) against a blackened wall. A welcome invitation after the cold outside, Artie told himself. A young scullery maid stood at the sink scrubbing heavy pots under a rising cloud of steam. She looked to be about fifteen he thought, and was constantly pushing her hair out of her face where it fell out from under (the) (an) oversized bonnet. (she wore). Someone had put a near-empty crate of apples by the door, and Reggie kicked it over to hold the door in place, waiting for Artie to slip past him.

There was a chopping block as large as a table off to the right, and a countertop running the full length of the far wall; it was obviously the main work space. The room was well organized, with everything labeled in a clear, neat, hand. There were jars full of spices and herbs lining the walls on narrow shelves(, with small prisms of light dancing on the walls behind them; the) pots and pans hanging from the ceiling, gleaming (gleamed) in the light stealing in through the large windows. The largest of the windows looked out over a (large) garden in the back, and behind it he could see the distant woods rising out of an endless field of dew-laden grass.

If you're gonna be climbing and jumping about, there’s no better way get yourself back into shape, he told himself, feeling the weight of the beets. They didn’t feel this heavy when we loaded them up this morning, he told himself, but he knew if he wanted to get into telling shape, working a month or two on Reggie’s farm was probably the best way to go about it.

(He followed Reggie into the larder.)

He’d yet to explain (to Reggie) why he’d been in such a panic to get out of London. (While he told) (Telling) himself he needed (the) time to work out what he was supposed to do, he knew it was more about what he was supposed to do for Charlie Sabini. The man demanded the impossible.

But Reggie being Reggie, he’d said he was willing to let Artie come out to (his) Devon(shire) (and work the) farm if he needed sanctuary. (And) what better place than the Devon countryside, Artie thought? A little bit of hard work never hurt anyone.

That’s what his Uncle used to say—which was ironic considering the man had never worked an honest day in his life. But he’d been an influence on Artie. Whether that was good, or bad, hadn’t yet been determined, not with the War breaking out as it had. But (back) in 1909, when Artie was fourteen years old, (he’d) found himself involved in a lifestyle he soon grew attached to. It involved meeting widows and their charges—daughters, nieces, cousins—on the French Riviera. The idea was to make them pay for everything, his uncle had said. It helped that Artie could speak French, as well as German, and Italian.

But Devon was better than going back to London and trying to make a go of it again, he reminded himself. London had proven to be nothing but trouble. For himself, his sister, and everyone he knew. He’d lied when he said he hadn’t tried looking for his old army mates. He'd even gone as far as finding a few of them.

That's not the life for me.

In London (, as a thief,) he was shocked to discover how easy it was for him. He could scale the outside of a building in under a minute, enter a window and take whatever money was laying about, (. He’d) (and) be back down on the streets before the victims even realized they’d been robbed. You’d think life in London would be easy(—a smarmy life for someone of his abilities—) but the streets were full of veterans begging for handouts—armless, legless, sightless (men)—and while there was little they (he) could do (for them), (and) (it seemed) there was little anyone (else) was willing to do. (What) did that tell him about living in London? It would be a hard life. He came to that realization when he tracked down Fitzhenry, the gunnery sergeant who’d sobbed into his beer about (telling Artie) (how) his wife had left him, and (how) his children had been afraid of him.

And why would he think she’d stay?