Chapter 9

“How many brothers and sisters have you got?”

A gentle smile appeared on Jacob’s face. “I’ve already told you about Annie. She’s the only girl. Then there’s Bertie, who’s six, and Thomas, who’s eight, and Horatio, who’s eleven. Or maybe twelve. He would have had a birthday by now. And then Jack and me.”

“That’s quite a family,” said Peter. “And your father?”

Jacob’s smile evaporated. “A drunkard. Towards the end, at least. He did right by us for most of my life then the drink got to him. Rum when he was flush and ale when he wasn’t. Same result.” He shook his head mournfully. “I don’t know what’ll become of them.”

Peter rubbed Jacob’s leg, comforting him.

“I don’t know what to tell you. All I know for sure is there’s nothing you can do for them either way. Worrying won’t help them so what’s the use in losing sleep over it?”

Jacob gave a half-nod and shrugged. “That’s true, but it’s easy to say, isn’t it? Not so easy to do.”