Lucky Pt. 04

When he finally found Eamon, it was almost by accident.

He'd been following his normal Tuesday routine, looking for his friend down near the docks. Today, he'd varied his route a little, seeking out spots that they'd once called home, deserted warehouses and sail lofts, sheltered areas around the back of public houses and restaurants where they'd once searched for leftovers.

It was a gloomy day, warm and humid, the clouds gathering darkly overhead and he reckoned it was going to get stormy later. Out in the bay, Seal Rock turned murky as the rain swept in. He turned up the collar of his jacket as it started to fall, a few fat dusty drops quickly turning into a steady shower, and he ducked into an old warehouse that seemed familiar from his days on the streets.

It was there that he saw him, amongst the old crates, the rusting winches and limp piles of tangled fishing nets. The young man was standing at the door on the other side, chewing on a stale-looking roll and staring out glumly. Although he was silhouetted against the grey light, Lucky recognised him immediately.

"Eamon!" he cried, as he strode over. "I can't believe it, it's you!"

"Lucas?" he said as he turned, his face a mixture of surprise and joy. "Lucas, is that you?"

Instinctively, Lucky ran up and threw his arms around his friend, hugging him tightly and holding on for several long seconds as if he might disappear, then held him at arm's length as he looked him up and down. Eamon was tanned, and his curly hair cut shorter, but it was definitely him.

"Lucas, you look so different, so smart and clean cut! But it's definitely you!" Eamon exclaimed.

"How are you? Where have you been? What have you been doing? How long have you been in White Harbour?" he asked, the questions coming thick and fast.

Eamon smiled and held his hands up, then pointed to a straw bale, inviting Lucas to sit.

"I'm well and I'll answer all your questions but let's start at the beginning, eh? You remember that night I last saw you? When that gang chased us?"

Lucas nodded: "How could I forget?"

"Well after we split up, I got away from those bastards and made it back down here," he said, tearing the roll in two and offering half to Lucky.

"You escaped then?" Lucky prompted, shaking his head as he took a seat. "I was worried about you."

"Come on, you know you shouldn't have worried. You know me, always falling in the shit but coming out smelling of roses, eh?" he continued, with a crooked grin. "Although I did have a sleepless night, that night. I kept hoping you'd be back, and then when I woke up on me own in the morning I feared the worst. So I asked around and before long I heard that you'd been taken in by a lady doctor, but that they weren't allowing anyone in to see you as you was so unwell."

"That's right, I was very lucky."

"Then later that day, someone told me that Spider's gang was still looking for me so it

seemed best to make meself scarce for a bit."

He paused as he took another bite of his roll.

"It didn't feel good to leave without telling you, but I didn't have no choice, did I? There just didn't seem any point me hanging around here. You were in the best place, I was told the lady doctor was the best, see? That same day, I ran into a friend who runs wagons to and from the north every week, and when I tells him my troubles he mentions that he's heard a rumour that they've just found gold in a place called Millers Creek, and so's I find myself on a wagon up there that very night."

Lucky shook his head: "You've been mining for gold these last months?"

"That I have, and I have to tell you that I've been very successful," Eamon said, smiling briefly. "At least, at first. Then some of the others started forming gangs, and buying out some of the other lads. In the end, they rigged it so's you had to join one of them gangs to be able to make any kind of living so I sold up too, made enough to travel back down here in a proper carriage though, and a bit more besides."

"I see, and now you're back to stay?"

"Well, for a few days at least."

"Well, I know somewhere you could get a decent job, maybe earn some more coins."

"Ah yes, I heard a rumour that you'd washed up at Madam Pomfrey's. I hear you're doing well there."

"I like it there. There's three square meals a day and somewhere safe and warm to sleep at night, and plenty of time to learn and improve yourself".

"Improve yourself, eh? You sound different, you know. They been teaching you to talk proper there?"

"I suppose they have, I've learnt a lot," he said, recognising the truth in what Eamon said, Rachel had been correcting him in their lessons, taught him to use "isn't" instead of "ain't" and "Madam" instead of "Missus". It had happened gradually, but he supposed he must sound different to someone who hadn't seen him in some time.

"Sounds like you like it there."

"I do and I'm sure that if I spoke for you they'd be pleased to give you a chance," Lucky said, excitedly.

"Ah thanks, but I'm not sure that's me, Lucas. I don't think I'm suited to bowing and scraping to rich ladies, no offence like," Eamon said, holding his hands up once more.

"Well, it's not really like that," Lucky said, feeling a little offended.

"I'm sure you're right, but you know me right? I'm just not suited to that kind of life, to taking orders and scrubbin' floors, I mean, maybe one day, when I've seen a bit more of the world," Eamon said, a little sadly, looking out at the street where the rain was finally easing off.

"Sure, I mean, it's up to you," Lucky said, trying not to show his disappointment. At the back of his mind, he'd long fantasised about Eamon coming back to the Madam's, to showing him round her house, to Eamon joining him, just like the old days.

"And besides, I was talking to this fisherman I know at The Lucky Squid last night," he said, leaning in a little closer. "Apparently, there's a lot of money to be made smuggling in rum from the Spice Islands down the coast at White Horse Bay. Hardly any risk at all, he told me, 'cos they're bribing the local customs agents to turn a blind eye, see? And they're looking for some help, some fit young men who can keep their mouths shut and don't mind a little night work that's not completely legal. So I was thinking, if maybe you're getting bored at the Madam's and want to make some real silver..."

Later Lucky thought about the conversation as he walked over the wet cobblestones and back up the hill, skipping over the puddles and the thin river of dirty brown water sluicing down the middle of the street. He'd told his friend he'd think about it, but the truth was that he was happy at the Madam's and he wouldn't really consider it at all. He felt a slight touch of anger: Eamon had made him sound like a slave but he wasn't that,was he? He could leave any time he wanted, the fact is he chose to stay and anyway, everyone had a boss, didn't they? Everyone had to work to make an honest living.

It was funny, when they were together he'd thought of them as a team, as wanting the same things, as being similar characters headed in the same direction. But seeing him today, he realised how different they were. Perhaps, he reasoned, since they were split up they'd both had the freedom to follow the path that was best for each of them. And it was clear that those paths were very different.

Now he thought about it, Eamon had always been more impulsive, more willing to take a chance, to try something new. And Lucas, well he'd always been the rational one, balancing Eamon's riskier impulses, perhaps more thoughtful, perhaps more of a thinker, more of a planner. That contrast had made them work well as a team, but reluctantly he had to concede Emaon was right. His friend would never prosper in the strictly regulated world of Madam Pomfrey's.

Still, he'd been pleased to see him today. At least he knew his old friend was well. And he'd given him something he thought he'd lost, a small leather satchel containing everything he owned: a small wooden horse he'd been given for his eighth birthday, the blanket he was wrapped in when he was left on the steps of the orphanage, some marbles, and a recommendation letter from the head of the orphanage. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Lucky stashed his satchel under his bed and spent the afternoon helping Cookie with preparing the evening meal, and after a brief nap he headed down to the bar to prepare for opening. He was bringing up some bottles from the cellar when Tully told him that Madam wanted some tea, so he headed up to the kitchen to boil the kettle on the stove there. It was important to remember to use the best teacups, the thin ones with the floral pattern, and that her tea was the more expensive type, kept in a small tin at the very top of the shelves and not the cheaper one that he and the rest of the boys drank.

A few minutes later he knocked on Madam's door, and pushed it open with his foot.Rachel and Madam Pomfrey stopped speaking and looked up as he entered.

"Would you like me to pour?" he asked, as he placed the tray between them on the Madam's desk.

"No, that's fine, leave it," the Madam said.

"Well now young Lucas, we've not had much chance to talk," she continued, leaning back and looking him up and down. "How are you getting on here?"

"I'm doing well, I think," he said, glancing at Rachel who gave him a slight nod.

"Everyone seems happy with me."

"And you're happy? You'd like to stay?"

"Yes, I'd like to," he said, thinking back to his conversation with Eamon. It definitely had better prospects than rum smuggling.

"Good, good. Well, if you keep on working hard and learning from Rachel you'll hopefully get to escort one of our ladies soon."

"Yes, Madam, thank-you," he replied. He couldn't remember speaking to Madam since his first day, and he moved from foot to foot anxiously.

"Of course, you'll need an evening suit to wear if you're going to a formal ball one day, so I need you to go to this tailor," she said, scribbling an address on a slip of paper and handing it to him. "I'll ask them to make a couple of shirts as well. Now run along, they're expecting you in an hour. Don't be late."

Rachel waited for Lucas to close the door behind him before speaking: "Suits aren't cheap, that's quite an investment."

"Well, I think we're both agreed he's worth it, still a bit of a rough diamond, but a diamond nonetheless," she replied, watching as Rachel poured the tea. She nodded her thanks as she took her tea cup.

"He's certainly polite and he is a quick learner," Rachel agreed as she poured a cup for herself.

"Yes, and he's good-looking but I suppose we don't know if he's got the right temperament, if he can charm or even seduce one of our ladies."

"Mmm," Rachel agreed as she sipped her tea.

"Perhaps that's something you can explore with him," she suggested. "Let him know what kind of young men we need here. I mean, it's all part of his education, isn't it?"

"I suppose, although I don't think he lacks for charm or confidence," Rachel said, feeling her cheeks flush as she thought of his wandering hands and the impromptu kiss they shared. "So which tailors did you send him to?"

"The flower sisters."

"Really?" Rachel replied, her fine eyebrows arching.

"Yes, they're the best, and they give us good discounts. And they always look after our boys."

"Yes, well I hear they look after them a little too well," Rachel muttered.

--

Lucas found the tailor shop down a small side street, beneath a sign boasting the "finest dressmaking and tailoring". Inside it was a little dark, and his eyes took a few seconds to adjust. It had a large window onto the street but it was crowded with mannequins in elegant evening wear and signs that advertised an alteration and repair service. Although small, it was neatly laid out with a long rack of suits and brightly coloured dresses to his left, a large ornate mirror to his right and a hardwood counter in front. The lady behind the counter looked up expectantly as he entered.

"Hello, um, are you the Flower Sisters?" Lucas asked.

"Yes, I'm Violet and this is Rose," the woman said, indicating a woman sitting behind at a sewing machine as she stood and offered her hand. "And you must be young Lucas."

"Pleased to meet you," he said, gently squeezing her hand.

"And we're pleased to meet you," Violet replied. "We're always very pleased to see a young man from Madam Pomfrey's, aren't we?"

"Oh yes, very pleased," Rose agreed, nodding.

Like the shop, the two women were small and neat. Both short compared to him, petite in stature and perhaps in their early thirties but that's where the similarities ended. Violet was slight and willowy, her oval face framed by long blonde hair that rested on the shoulders of her smart jacket. Rose was maybe a little older and a little more plump with short, red hair framing an almost elfen face. They were dressed smartly, both wearing dark stylish riding jackets over long, flowing skirts that brushed their polished ankle boots.

"We're not really sisters," Violet said,noticing his confused look. "People just call us that because of our names. Rose and Violet the flower sisters, you see?"

He nodded.

"Yes, although we are as close as sisters, aren't we?" she added as she lifted the counter.

"Oh yes, we're very close," Rose agreed as they stepped forward and looked him up and down.

"Well, another fine young man, as we've often said before, the Madam has quite the eye," Violet said.

"Yes, a fine-looking young man. Perhaps we ought to take him to the fitting room," Rose suggested. "It's more private."

"Exactly what I was thinking," Violet agreed with a bright smile, taking Lucas by the hand and leading him through the open counter and through a small door at the back. Glancing behind, he watched Rose flip the sign on the shop's door from 'open' to 'closed' before hurrying after them.

They lead him down some stairs and along a surprisingly long, dark corridor with doors leading off both sides to a room with two large free-standing mirrors in front of him and lit only by a small window high up near the ceiling. There was a chair and a couch in the space between crowded floor-to-ceiling racks on either side containing all types of material, silks and satins and corduroys, as well as large bowls of threads, sewing machines, hedgehog-like pin-cushions and jars of colourful buttons lined up like jars of sweets.

"Well now, let's have a proper look at you," Rose said, grasping his shoulders and positioning him in front of the mirrors as Violet grabbed a tape measure from one of the shelves.

"Well, we could go with a conventional dark grey suit, or perhaps a navy blue to match those lovely eyes?" she continued. "What do you think, young Lucas?"

"Well, I..."

"Well first, let's get this jacket and shirt off," Violet interrupted, looping the tape measure around her neck and quickly unfastening the buttons with well-practised ease.

"Um, is that really necessary?"

"Not shy, are we?" Rose said, her lips next to his ear as she stepped behind him and eased the jacket from his broad shoulders. "No need to shy around us, we're professionals, aren't we Violet?"

"Oh, completely professional," Violet agreed, as her deft fingers unbuttoned his shirt.

"We have a reputation for being the best, and that means producing a shirt that fits precisely."

"So we need accurate measurements, you see," Rose concluded, her eager fingers tugging his shirt off and draping it over the same chair as his jacket.

"Oh yes, you will look good in one of our suits," Violet said, her fingers lingering as they explored the firm contours of his pectorals and lingered on his stomach. "Nice square shoulders, good chest tapering to slim hips."

"Come along, measure him then," Rose prompted.

"Oh yes," Violet replied as she reluctantly slid the tape measure from her neck and slid it around Lucas's neck. "Fifteen inches."

"Fifteen," Rose repeated as she scribbled the number down on a small notepad.

"Lift your arms, dear," Violet said, grasping his elbows and lifting his arms so they were pointing straight out, his hands nearly touching the racks on either side. He was a little ticklish, and squirmed as she ran the tape measure from his armpit to his wrist.

"Twenty three," she concluded with a slight nod.

He could smell her delicate floral fragrance as she stepped closer and he could feel her warm breath on his skin as she looped the tape measure around his chest, her fingers pressed against his smooth, hairless skin.

"Forty two," she said, her large brown eyes holding his as she slowly slid her fingers lower over the lean muscle of his torso and stomach, looping the measure around his waist.

"Oh dear," she said, frowning as she fiddled with the tape measure. "Not sure if this is thirty or thirty one, this belt is rather in the way."

"Perhaps we should take it off," Rose suggested brightly from behind him, her hand sliding smoothly across his chest, her fingertips playfully circling one of his nipples.

"I can do that," Lucky volunteered, reaching for the buckle.

"No, no," Rose interrupted from behind, grabbing his elbows and lifting his arms.

"Please keep your arms out of the way. Violet can remove it, it's all part of the service."

Lucky relented, his arms outstretched as he watched Violet kneel on the floor, as her slim, dextrous fingers tugged at his belt. He watched as she quickly unfastened his belt, and from this angle he had an excellent view of her cleavage, her pert boobs bulging against the confines of her corset beneath her dark riding jacket.

"Might as well take these off as well," she said, looking up briefly as she started to unbutton his fly. "These trousers will only get in the way."

"Is that really necessary?" Lucky said, feeling his cock tingle hotly as her fingers slid over the taut material.

"Oh, most definitely," Rose confirmed, her lips a little closer to his ear as she stood on tiptoes and peered over his shoulder. "You won't have anything we haven't seen before."

She let go of his arms briefly to let him balance as Violet quickly and efficiently removed his shoes and socks, before sliding his trousers off. He watched as her quick fingers folded them neatly before placing them on a nearby chair.

"Spread your legs a little," Violet prompted, tapping the inside of his ankle as she knelt once more.

"And keep those arms up, " Rose reminded him.

It had seemed to have become a lot warmer, Lucky thought as he complied, shuffling his feet apart and letting Rose grab his elbows and push his arms up. In a few short moments, he'd been stripped down to just his shorts, and he felt his cock stir as Violet leant closer, her plump lips perhaps an inch from his loins as she stretched the tape measure, one end fixed at his ankle, the other sliding slowly up over his leg, her soft fingers making the skin tingle as they brushed against the bare skin of his inner thigh. She took her time, apparently enjoying teasing him, and he groaned as he felt her fingers brush against his swollen balls through the white cotton.

"Perhaps, thirty two?" she said hesitantly.

"Well, are you sure, dear?" Rose asked, sliding a hand up over his thigh and casually squeezing one of his firm buttocks. "It is very important, so take your time."

"Well, it's his, erm, bulge, it's really getting in the way," Violet said, and Lucky groaned, feeling the blood surge to his prick as her fingers delicately grasped his cock and eased it to one side.

"Really ladies, I'm sure my inside leg is thirty two, I don't want to take any more of your time," Lucky said, feeling his cheeks glow red as he used his hands to cover the embarrassing bulge in his pants.

"Nonsense, we need to get the correct measurements," Rose insisted, grabbing his wrists and roughly pulling them behind him. "Now please keep those arms out of the way and let us do our job, it's terribly important."