Molly Malone's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Molly wiped fish scales from her hands and studied the corner spot with a practiced eye. The location jutted out where three market lanes crossed, giving her a view down each pathway. She could watch the constables coming from the north, the dockers from the east, and the workhouse road from the south. Perfect for selling fish. Better still for seeing trouble before it arrived. Big Tom helped her haul the new stall into position, grunting as they wedged it against the corner building. The structure rose higher than her old cart, with shelves that climbed up like stairs. She'd paid extra for the peaked roof with its blue tiles, but the height gave her something worth more than coins. From the top shelf, she could see over the market crowd to spot the grey uniforms before they reached her. She mounted a telegraph set on the counter where everyone could see it. The brass gleamed in the morning light. Most people thought it decoration, something fancy to make the stall look prosperous. But the dockers and street lads knew better. When she turned the dials a certain way, messages spread through the market faster than shouting. Behind the stall, tucked between the building wall and her counter, she built a small platform from old crates. Three steps up, and she stood level with the second-story windows. She tested it that first morning, climbing up with a basket of herring. From there she could see the workhouse gates, the dock road, and the constable station all at once. Her cousin would know where to find her now. The families in trouble would know where to look. She arranged the fish on ice and smiled. The corner was hers, and with it, she'd just claimed the best watchtower in Whitechapel.