The knock at the door echoed through the empty street. Moments later, a small flap in the door opened, revealing a small part of bristly beard, soon replaced by a suspicious eye.

"Yes, who is the—You! It's you again!"

Amy grinned up at the charming man behind the door. "Pleased ta see me, are ye? Dat warms my little heart."

"Avaunt, impure female!"

"A very nice evenin' to ye, too, Karim."

The flap moved to slam shut. However, this was not Amy's first encounter with the charming, bulky bodyguard behind the door. Quickly reaching up, she stuck her parasol through the opening.

"Take that out at once!"

"Funny." Amy grinned. "Normally, I'm da one to say that to men, not da other way around."

Sputtering came from beyond the door. Amy enjoyed listening to it for a bit, then decided it was time to get to the reason she had come.

"So," she asked, interrupting the outraged grumbling from beyond the door, "is Lilly at home?"

"The Sahiba should not associate with a lowly creature such as yourself."

"Which makes it really funny dat dis lowly creature regularly comes for afternoon tea, doesn't it? Now, just tell me already. Is she at home?"

A low curse in some foreign language issued from behind the door.

"I already told you yesterday. Both she and Ambrose Sahib are still on their second honeymoon in the United States."

"Second honeymoon my sweetly smelling arse! That's just an excuse for draggin' her along on another business trip, like da first one. Where did dat cheap son of a bachelor haul her dis time? A sheep farm? A copper mine?"

"Most certainly not!"

"Well? Where den?"

"Ehem. Well...a coal mine, actually."

"How incredibly romantic. I can already see it...a romantic walk through corridors filled with coal dust, pools of muddy water glitterin' in da torchlight..."

"Do you have anything worthy to listen to? If not, remove that thing stuck in the flap and depart from this place!"

"Of course I do! I want to know when she will be coming back."

"Hm." The eye beyond the door gave Amy an appraising look, probably calculating the chances of shoving the parasol out and slamming the flap shut.

"Don't even think about it," Amy advised. "How long?"

"Hm. Hm. Four months."

"Four months?"

"Maybe five."

"Five? Ye can't be serious!"

"I am always serious. Now depart, or I shall have you forcibly removed."

"Oh..." Amy wiggled her eyebrows. "That sounds fun. Will ye take care of it personally?"

Once again, the sound of sputtering came from behind the door. Before the poor man choked, Amy waved goodbye, removed the parasol from the door and gave Karim a wink. "Call me any time ye wanna 'ave a bit of fun, big boy."

"Naraka dē duśaṭa dūta dī bēṭī!"

"Bless ye. Well...till next time. I'll drop by again the day after tomorrow, shall I?"

"Tuhāḍē pairāṁ nū magaramachāṁ du'ārā khādhā jā sakadā hai!"

"All right, since ye can't wait to see me again, let's make it tomorrow."

And, with a last wave, she skipped away down Leadenhall Street. "Baiting the Bodyguard" had become one of her favourite games, recently. Still...

Her mood changed all too soon when she remembered why it had become her favourite game, when she remembered why the person that currently served as her best friend and confidante was a grumpy mountain of a bodyguard who only spoke to her through a bolted door.

Her steps slowed, and her shoulders slumped.

They were all gone.

All gone, blast them!

Every single one of her "friends" had ridden off into a sunset in a pretty carriage with "just married" written on the back.

Cora? Happily married.

Jenny? Happily married. To a pastor, no less!

Lilly? Blissfully married to the bloody hottest son of a bachelor of the century who also happened to be one of the most stinking rich people in the entire British Empire. Argh!

Not that she was jealous or anything! Jealous? Ha! A woman like her didn't even know what that word meant. She wouldn't become jealous of those horrible, traitorous, far-too-disgustingly-happy so-called friends!

Definitely not.

Besides...it wasn't even as if she wanted to get married. She was a hardened lady of the night, with no delusions or silly dreams. And she was most definitely not hiding a stack of romance novels under her bed at home.

And even if, theoretically, she had one or two—or a few dozen—that still would be a pale substitute for her best friend.

What she missed most about her friendship with Lilly was that Lilly didn't try to interfere. Other people always tried to interfere once they heard what she did for a living. They tried to meddle in her life and "lead her on the right path" or "make an honest woman out of her". But Lilly...Lilly was just always there. Fierce, dependable, and fun.

And now she'd had the audacity to marry!

And not just that—that bloody wedding had also robbed Amy of her other two best friends, Cora and Jenny! The darn traitors had actually had the gall to fall in love with two of the wedding guests, and had settled down to become respectable women!

Ha! Was nobody upholding any standards anymore, these days? Shame on you! What about upholding the pride of the world's oldest profession?

At least she herself had been strong enough to resist! And for good reason. Her career didn't provide many educational opportunities. But if there was one thing it had taught her, it was that a roasted dove riding a carriage was more likely to happen to her than love and marriage! As if she ever even wanted such things! Ha! Double Ha!

With her chin high and her back straight, Amy marched on, back towards the brothel, towards the place where she belonged and—

And her shoulders slumped.

Damn, being alone sucked!

Well, there's always one way to get some company, right? But...somehow, I really don't feel like going back to work right now.

So, what should she do instead? Go home and wait until her remaining friends and co-workers got off work, and off their customers?

Aye. That would be just spiffin'. I just love to spend my time in a tiny 'ovel and stare at blank walls all day.

Just then, Amy reached the eastern corner of Stepney Workhouse, and her face suddenly brightened. That's right! She still had friends who hadn't forsaken her! Friends who hadn't run off to get married!

Which might be 'cause they still aren't ten years old, a little voice at the back of her mind pointed out.

Details, Shmetails! Loyal friends who resisted the lascivious lure of matrimony should be treasured! Even if they hadn't grown all their permanent teeth yet.

Determined, Amy strode around the corner.

"Hello, Flo," she called out as soon as the street came in sight. "Hello Jo! How are ye doin—"

Her voice abruptly cut off, and she blinked. Faced with an empty street.

What was going on?

Flo and Jo weren't there.

But...Flo was always here. Always. The figure of the little ten-year-old girl with the tray of matchboxes in one hand and her tiny sister attached to the other had practically become a local landmark. A rather bedraggled landmark with a haircut like a frizzy badger's tail, but still, a landmark.

What the hell! What is going on?

Her face didn't show a trace of emotion, but inside, Amy felt a sudden pang of anxiety. Had anyone found out? They couldn't have! She'd kept her connection to those two under lock and key for years! It was the only way. On the streets, emotions were a weakness, and there plenty of predators waiting in the wings. If the rats on the streets found out...

Instantly, Amy shoved that thought aside.

Now isn't the time. Find her! Bloody find her, now!

Was she overreacting?

Amy snorted!

Normal people with normal lives might think so. There were plenty of reasons not to be on this draughty street. After all, why would two lonely girls be out in the cold all day? But this wasn't a "normal" girl. Jo had her little sister to take care of, and she also had a tenacity most other match girls couldn't match, pun very much intended. The little girl's deceptively innocent smile and horrendous haggling could convince a snowman that it needed to light a nice, warm fire to keep its feet warm. Amy, unable to resist the duo's machinations, already had a stash of roughly two-hundred and seventy packages of matches stashed under her bed. She had already considered becoming a pyromaniac, just to have something to do with them. There were quite a few buildings in the East End that would look better as smouldering ruins.

The tenacious little girl was always here. And yet, today, she was nowhere in sight.

So what? Whispered a tiny voice inside her. A ruthless voice. A voice that had kept her alive numerous times. This isn't any of your business! They're not your children!

But that was the problem, wasn't it? They were nobody's children. Or just nobodies. In the eyes of the happy, warm and well-fed world, they didn't exist. Not since the death of—

Instantly, she cut off that thought before it could materialize.

She would not think about that! Not ever!

All she needed to know was that they were alone.

Just like me.

Uttering a curse, Amy turned around and headed back towards the corner of the workhouse.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! All this just because of a stupid promise you made years ago? Why can't you keep your nose out of other people's business, Amy?

Muttering another curse, Amy marched ahead.

There was a man standing at the door of the workhouse, as he usually was. After all this time, Amy still hadn't quite figured out whether he was a porter, a guard, or just a vagrant who had laid claim to a nice comfy spot on the workhouse porch.

"Oy! Clem!"

No response. Well, except for a drunken snore, that is.

Amy, with her usual tact and politeness, kicked the man in the shins.

"Wgwfff...what do ye...?"

Clem stumbled, landing on his butt with a thump. Owlishly, he blinked up at Amy. "What did ye do dat for?"

"To wake ye up, I need to ask ye somethin'. Where are Flo and Jo? Have ye seen dem?"

The old man harrumphed. "Why would I tell ye?"

With the ease and swiftness of an expert, Amy plucked the half-full liquor bottle out of his hands and hid it behind her back. She raised an eyebrow. "Well? 'ave ye seen them?"

"Yestheywerehereearlier! Now can I have my bottle back?"

"Soon. Why aren't they here now? What happened?"

"How should I know? I ain't their bloody father! I ain't—"

"Miss Amy!"

At the sound of that voice, Amy whirled around, and saw a familiar tiny figure dashing towards her. A moment later, something small and scruffy rammed into her, nearly knocking her over. Reflexively, Amy reached up to grab the little girl who had buried herself in her dress. Old Clem took this chance to grab back his bottle and skedaddle.

"Jo! Jo, what's happened to you? Where's Flo?"

Amy tried to raise up the tiny girl to eye-level, but the girl grabbed hold of her skirt and buried her face in its folds, as if hiding from the world.

"Jo?" Amy said, much more gently than before. "Where's Flo?"

"The...the lady!" Jo's voice, intermingled with sobs, came from somewhere in the depths of her skirt. "The lady took 'er?"

Amy tensed. "What lady?"

"A...a nice lady came, and said Flo won't 'ave to work out in the cold no more! She said Flo could get better work as a servant. As a real maid, ye know? In a respectable 'ouse!"

Amy's blood ran cold. This was much worse than what she had thought. There were many well-dressed older women scouting the East End for young talent. But Amy knew all too well that the jobs they offered were neither as maids nor other servants, and they were most certainly not respectable,

No! Not Flo! Please not Flo!

"What happened then?" Amy urged the sobbing girl on, trying her best to keep her voice calm, instead of screaming and stomping like she wanted to do.

Please don't let this be what I think it is! If it is...if it truly is...

She would tear that old hag to pieces with her bare hands!

Jo's words abruptly tugged her out of her violent daydreams. "The...the lady said she'd bring us to 'er 'ouse. So we went with 'er, but Flo said for me to stay ten steps back."

Yes! Smart girl, Flo! Smart girl!

"So we went with the lady, but I staid be'ind a bit, just like Flo said. We went along, but soon we saw where we were gonna go, and it ain't no decent place, but some dirty back alley."

Amy took a look around at the grubby street, filled with dilapidated buildings. This was the kind of place Flo and Jo lived in. How would a street have to look for Jo to call it dirty?

"We got to a back door and the lady said dis was 'er 'ouse, and...and..." Jo's voice was cut off by a sudden sob. Amy looked down helplessly at the little girl. What the heck did one do to comfort children? The only thing Amy knew about children was how to make sure to not get any. She doubted very much that would be of help in this situation.

"Err...there, there," she said, patting the girl's back.

Promptly, Jo started to cry harder.

Bloody hell, how do you stop them from crying? Holding them upside down and pounding on their backs? No, that's for hiccups, dammit!

Amy hesitated—then, cautiously, she put her arms around the tiny girl.

"Please, Jo, tell me. What happened next?"

"The lady opened the door and...Flo got one look inside, and...and...she shouted for me to run, and then some people rushed out and grabbed her, and—"

The rest of the sentence disintegrated into pitiful snivelling.

All right. That's it!

Without a moment's thought, Amy picked up the little girl and ran. There wasn't a minute to lose! If they even wanted to have the tiniest chance of saving Flo—

Saving her? Are you crazy? You know the kind of people who got their hands on her!

Amy shivered. Oh yes, she did know—from personal experience. That's why she had to try. Even if there was just a one-in-a-million chance...!

Please, let this be the one time in a million. She's just ten years old! Ten years!

"M-Miss Amy?" Jo blinked up at her, eyes sparkling with tears. "Will Flo be all right?"

"Yes!" Amy lied, squeezing the little girl tightly to her. "Yes, definitely!"

She ran faster.

***

The Pussycat Palace was one of the better brothels of the east end: the sheets were washed at least once a year, and drunk patrons were usually removed from the beds before the next customer came in. Right now, though, there didn't seem to be much business.

All the better. Then I won't have to kick a customer in the bollocks!

"Get your arses down 'ere, everyone!" Amy shouted as soon as she was in the door. "We've got work to do!"

"Really?" Curiously, Tammy peeked over the balustrade, from up on the first floor. "Where are the gents?"

"Not that kind of work!"

"Oh! A lady then? Yay! Variety is the spice of life!"

"W-what kind of variety?" Jo asked, blinking up at the gathering ladies.

Quickly reaching up, Amy hugged the little girl closer to her and glared up at Tammy. "Shut your gob you feckless idiot! You can't go using bloody bad language in front of a kid!"

"Shit! I'm sorry."

"It's all right. Just be sure to watch your bloody mouth! Now get down here! We've got to talk!"

"Does it have to be now?" one of the ladies yawned. "I've been up since—"

"It's about Flo."

The woman shut up instantly. For the first time, the others seemed to notice the tearstains on Amy's dress, and the way Jo clung to her, as if she were the last dependable thing in this world.

"What happened?"

In quick, concise words, Amy told them about what happened. As she did, the faces of the women darkened.

"What do ye think?" Tammy asked.

Big Gelda, who had a very special reputation among the establishment's customers, cracked her walnut-sized knuckles. "I think it's time to twist some bollocks!"

"Girls! Girls!" Just then, the madam bustled in. "What are you all doing here? A very important customer has just come in, and—"

"Excellent!" Amy patted her shoulder. "Then I'm sure he'll want an experienced lady, won't he? You take care of it yourself."

"Me?" The wrinkled madam's eyebrows shot up, one nearly falling off in the process.

"Of course. I'm sure no one can surpass your, ehem...mature charms. Aint't dat right?"

She gave Tammy a kick.

"Ouch! Mature charms, absolutely!"

"Your smile lights up the whole room! Especially those gold teeth."

"And your hair is so shiny and glossy. No one would ever guess it's a wig unless they tug too hard."

"Well, we'll be busy for a while. We'll leave you to take care of things. Bye!"

Two seconds later, the parlour was empty but for a very startled madam.

Out on the street, Amy had already pulled a piece of chalk out of her pocket and started scratching a map of the surrounding streets on the wall. The map was rough, but it by no means lacked detail. Nobody knew the back alleys of London like people who'd grown up turning tricks in their shadows. Handing Jo to another of the girls, she gestured for the young woman to cover Jo's ears.

"They can't really have taken her away yet. At this time, the streets are full of people. Even if they tie her up and gag her, it's too risky."

"Unless they drug her with some concoction," Gelda growled.

"And waste perfectly good money?" Amy gave a bitter smile. "Morphine is too expensive to waste on people like us."

The others' faces darkened.

"Besides...they can just wait until nightfall, when no sane person dares go out on the street. So, we got to 'urry!"

"I'll take the Gutrippers' territory," Tammy volunteered, naming one of London's most vicious street gangs. "Dose buggers still owe me a favour or two."

"I'll take the Penny Scratchers'," offered Lula.

"Then I'll take the Baser Fates." Gelda flexed her fingers. "You need a special attitude to deal with those little bastards!"

Amy nodded. "I'll go around and check with the abbesses I know. Maybe they've 'eard somethin'."

"Err..." Olive, the youngest of the bunch, who was still holding Jo's ears shut, started to raise her hand, then hurriedly put it over the little girl's ear again. "What should I do?"

Amy considered for a moment—then reached into her pocket once again. Pulling out a card, she handed it to the girl.

"You take Jo, and bring her to this address."

Olive took the card, and read, slowly and haltingly. "

"Con...Conway & Co, finely tuned pianos since 1789." Blinking, she glanced up at Amy. "Amy...are ye off your rocker?"

"Just do it, all right? Be sure to ask for Ella! Trust me, Jo will be as safe as 'ouses!"

"My cousin died when a 'ouse collapsed on top of 'er," Gelda said darkly.

"As safe as well well-built 'ouses, all right? Now get a move on! We'll meat back here in two hours!"