Jonny had heard all right, but he had no desire to acknowledge that fact. He was leaving this all behind him.
At least, he had been.
“Anything the matter here?”
Jonny looked up to see the clerk manager, Percy Fawkes, walking up to them, his posture perfect, his suit immaculate. Jonny had no desire to emulate a man like this, who cared only for appearances and perfection, but nor did he want to be sucked down to the life he had come from, the one they had found themselves in when they were too young to have a choice, after their father had succumbed to Blackwood’s threats.
Jonny refused to repeat past mistakes. “Nothing at all,” he said. “In fact, I must be going.”
Fawkes looked at his pocket watch. “You were set to be relieved an hour ago,” he said, frowning. “Where is Richter?”
“He’s here,” Jonny said. He had sent his replacement away, needing to deal with this himself. “He’s around back.”
“You will not be receiving extra pay for this,” Fawkes said, straightening his jacket. “I will stay until Richter returns.”
“Fine,” Jonny said, turning with an eye upon Sharpe. “These gentlemen were simply lost. Wrong place, wrong time.”
He turned and walked out the door, feeling Sharpe’s eyes on his back the entire time.
The moment Jonny hit the docks, he broke out into a run. If he were quick enough, he might be able to make it in time for the second half of the game. That was, if they hadn’t called the substitute in time. Perhaps the Athletics and the umpire would allow him to finish the match.
By the time he made it to Pomona Park, where they played a great deal of their games, he was so out of breath he wondered if he would be able to play. But as he stood near the fence and took in the football grounds before him, he knew it wouldn’t matter anyway. He was too late.
There was Mack Cook, in Jonny’s position, looking as confused as he should be, for he hadn’t practiced with the team in months. It was where Jonny belonged, out there with his teammates.
He pulled his hat low over his face as he called out to a spectator standing near the fence, “Hey, what’s the score?”
“2-0 Athletics,” the man said, and Jonny bit out a curse. This was just an exhibition game and didn’t mean anything in their Cup bid, but it would mean something to Rhys and his teammates.
Jonny might just have thrown away his chances to continue playing with the team that meant so much to him.
“Come on, Tommy,” he mumbled under his breath as his friend sidestepped around two of the Athletics defenders. Just when he pulled back to kick, however, the ball was stolen from him, and Harrington went thundering down the field, dribbling around Mack before he stole in and scored again on Hardy.
“Fuck,” Jonny muttered.
A loss would make his situation all the worse.
He took a step back, unsure of whether he should stay and watch this continue to unfold or whether he was only torturing himself and putting him at risk of being discovered.
He decided he couldn’t stomach it any longer and was about to turn away when his gaze was drawn into the stands. For what reason, he couldn’t have said, but his eyes caught on one figure. She was dressed in a deep violet, a hue that shouldn’t have stood out.
But it was her piercing gaze that called to him, one he could just see from this distance.
She was watching him, and he knew that any judgment she was bestowing upon him was well earned.
He was in trouble.
And not just from Rhys and the team.
But from Ada Jones.
Which would only make things much worse. Of that, he was sure.
Chapter Two
Returning to the shadows of the docks was like coming home.
A home she had never wanted to revisit.
