The Pick-Pocket Orphans: A BRAND NEW completely gripping, emotional saga series from Lindsey Hutchinson for 2024

By Lindsey Hutchinson

Thirteen-year-old Alice Truelove can’t take another day of her father’s cruelty.

Better a life on the streets than being constantly blamed for her mother’s sad death, or that’s what Alice thinks as she packs up her meagre possessions. But fending for herself in the Black Country town of Wednesbury is not as easy as she expected, and it soon hits her that without help she will quickly be hungry and cold.

Bertram Jordan, or BJ to his friends, became an orphan much too young after his parents were stolen away by influenza. Growing up on the streets has not been easy, but BJ has learnt to survive, and when he meets Alice, alone and desperate, he’s happy to take her under his wing.

As Alice learns the tricks of the pick-pocketer, the best ways to charm the stallholders on the market and the skills to get by, the two children become firm friends. So, when BJ makes a fatal mistake, Alice can’t bear the thought that she might lose her only friend – forever…

The Queen of Black Country sagas is back with a heart-breaking tale of friendship, families and survival against the odds. Perfect for all fans of Katie Flynn, Val Wood and Lyn Andrews.

Readers love Lindsey Hutchinson:

‘I love this author’s books. Another triumph with lots of twists in the lives of the families. Love, death, great happiness and sadness, even a few murders thrown in.’

‘Yet another brilliant book by Lindsey Hutchinson. A great storyline and a good page turner. Loved every minute reading it.’

‘I didn't want it to end, I have never been disappointed with Lindsey Hutchinson. Can't wait for her next one.’

‘There is so much happening in this book that every single chapter is an absolute page turner. Lindsey Hutchinson is such a wonderful story teller as she reels you right in from the very first chapter.’

‘This book was superb, gripping, heart breaking. I love these two characters in their own role right up to the ending, but I certainly wouldn't like to cross Clarice, she is one psycho woman that wont stop at nothing to get revenge. Readers are going to love this read and it's one of my favourites from this author.’

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boldwood Books
• Release date: Mar 21, 2024
• ISBN: 9781835188842

Lindsey Hutchinson

Lindsey Hutchinson is a bestselling saga author whose novels include The Workhouse Children. She was born and raised in Wednesbury, and was always destined to follow in the footsteps of her mother, the multi-million selling Meg Hutchinson.

Book preview

1

Alice Truelove stood looking up into eyes which were full of hate as her father spouted his evil words.

‘Everything was fine until you came along. Peg and I had a wonderful life but then it all went to hell! And who’s to blame for that? You! Peg had no time for me once you arrived!’

Thirteen-year-old Alice stared blankly. She’d heard it all before, so many times. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel anything, on the contrary, the hurtful words cut deeper each time they were said.

‘Peg was run ragged looking after you, it’s no wonder she’s passed from this world!’

Alice knew it wasn’t her fault that her mother had died, even though she had been told nothing of Peg’s illness. Only by eavesdropping during a doctor’s visit had she learned something had eaten Peg away from the inside.

‘I know you think you should have been in school like the other kids in the town, but I couldn’t afford it.’

It was a good thing Mom taught me my letters and numbers then, she thought as the abusive barrage continued.

‘I’ve tried to like you, God knows I have, but – I just can’t!’

Truth be told, Alice didn’t think much of her father right then either.

‘You’ve ruined my life! Why couldn’t you have died instead of my beautiful Peg?’

Alice looked down at her scuffed shoes, unable to look at the man any longer.

‘You stole my wife away from me thirteen years ago on the day you were born! Then what happens? Last year the Lord calls her to Him and leaves me with you!’

Alice was fully aware of what he meant; he’d explained often enough. Peg had spent all her time looking after her new baby and had unconsciously neglected her husband, leaving him feeling pushed out.

Tears glistened along her dark lashes and she sniffed as she rubbed her nose with the back of her hand.

‘For God’s sake, don’t cry! I hate it when you snivel!’

Alice blinked away her tears but her lower lip trembled as she fought to control her emotions. Try as she might, she could not put a foot right where her father was concerned, so now she had just stopped trying to please him.

Shuffling her feet, Alice was hoping she would be dismissed, but Henry Truelove continued haranguing her.

‘I’ve been thinking and I’ve decided you should go to the workhouse. Now get out of my sight!’

Heading for the door to the upstairs, Alice heard a sob as her father lamented the loss of his wife. She knew he was still grieving but so was she, and no one cared enough to ask her about her feelings.

With a heavy heart, Alice went to her bedroom. Standing by the window, she looked out across the heath as the sun lowered towards the horizon. Their little house stood alone so there was nothing to see but scrubland. She watched the butterflies fluttering around the short stubby grass and heard the birds chirruping as they began to settle for the night.

She thought about her relationship with her father; it was not what could be called even a reasonable one. All of her young life she had felt distant from him, as though he never had time for her, which of course he didn’t, but since her mother had gone it was worse than ever.

She felt the ache grip her heart yet again as she thought of her mom, taken so young. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks and she felt hollow inside. The only person in the world who loved her had gone to live with Jesus, and Alice thought her heart would break at the dark void left behind. The salty droplets dripped from her chin as she stared out of the window with unseeing blue-green eyes, and it was only as her legs began to ache that she realised how long she had been standing.

Moving away from the window, she changed into her nightdress and brushed her long dark hair until it shone as her mom had shown her. Nimble fingers soon had it plaited, then, after a quick wash in the bowl on the dresser, she climbed into bed. The hours passed until darkness fell and the silvery beams of moonlight lit her room. She watched the shadows flit across the ceiling as she wished yet again her mom could come back to her.

She heard her father come clumping up the stairs and she shivered despite the heat of the summer night. She listened to him rattling around in his room, his bedstead creak, then all was quiet.

With a sigh, she made up her mind. The time had come for her to run away; she would not give him the satisfaction of throwing her out or leaving her at the workhouse gates.

Tomorrow, when he had gone to work, she would sneak away and find somewhere else to live. From now on, he could cook his own meals and clean the house himself. Alice Truelove had had enough! And with the comfort of a decision made, Alice drifted off to sleep.

The following morning, Alice gathered her few things and, in her eagerness to get away, only began to think about where she would go as she left the house. How would she live without money? Although she had just entered her teenage years, she doubted anyone would give her a job at her age, not that there were many up for grabs.

As she walked, she thought about the two up, two down home she was leaving. It was just off Bull Lane, Wednesbury, which was as far from the town as you could get before you were in another place altogether, at least that’s how Alice had always thought of it.

With her spare clothes – a skirt and blouse, petticoat, chemise, a pair of drawers and a shawl – wrapped up in brown paper tied with string and her coat over her arm, Alice trudged the route she took daily when shopping for food. However, this time she would not be returning. She had no fear of the constabulary being called out to search for her, as she had fulfilled her father’s wish and disappeared from his life. Henry Truelove would sigh with relief when he got home to find her gone.

It was still early in the morning but the sun had risen full and strong, and Alice could feel the sweat forming on her brow as she continued her journey. She could see in the distance the smoke from household chimneys. Despite the July heat, fires were lit for cooking food and heating water for washing clothes. The embers would then be left to burn out until the fire was needed again. The ashes would be raked out and stored somewhere dry against the icy days of winter when they would be spread on the cobblestones to help avoid slipping.

Even though she was young, Alice was not afraid. Nothing could hurt her more than what she had suffered already, and if it should be that she should die out on the street, then so be it. At least then she would go to heaven and see her mom again.

The plan she had formulated the previous night had only gone as far as leaving the house and walking to the town. After that, she had no idea what she would do, but as she breathed in the warm air, she felt a sense of freedom settle on her. Her heart hammered in her chest with the excitement of starting out on a great new adventure. She would no longer be held responsible for every disaster and every misfortune her family suffered, for that’s how she had felt over the last year.

As she walked, she hummed a little tune, enjoying the buzzing of bees and the sight of the white butterflies performing a balletic dance on the thermals. Insects whizzed past her ears and she smiled as a mouse scuttled away to find a safer feeding location.

Walking over Willingsworth Hall Bridge, she stopped to look down at the waters of Birmingham Canal. Sometimes she had been lucky enough to see a narrowboat being pulled along on sturdy ropes by a massive Shire horse. It was always a delight to see the brightly painted boats and she would wave to the cut-rats who owned or worked them. Alice thought it must be wonderful to sail along the canals all day, and considered it far nicer than being cooped up in the house for hours on end.

Skirting the Monway Colliery carefully, Alice kept a wary eye open for the gin pits; she could not afford to fall down one of those old coal shafts. Crossing the London and North West Railway, she came to the outskirts of the town proper. As she traversed the streets, she was not concerned by the hustle and bustle going on around her.

As she knew some of the stall holders in the market, she decided there was probably the best place to enquire about work. Carts clattered along the bumpy cobbles, their drivers whistling or calling out a greeting to each other as they passed the child wandering alone.

Alice grinned as she saw a sweep’s brush shoot from a chimney and twirl around before being pulled back down, leaving a plume of soot in its wake. She passed women walking with screaming infants held firmly on their hips, the rest of their clan running to catch up. The baker’s horse clip-clopped down one street, the aroma of fresh bread travelling on the air, making her mouth water. Alice had been sensible enough to cut two slices of bread and butter which she’d wrapped and shoved in her coat pockets. She was also wise enough to know they might well have to last her a long time.

Despite the building heat, the men still wore their cloth caps, shirt sleeves rolled up to above the elbow as they stood in the bread line on street corners, hoping to be given work.

Crossing the tramway on Holyhead Road, Alice breathed in the smell of newly cut wood as she passed the timber yard. She heard the thrum of the saws as they were pushed and pulled by burly workers.

Arriving at her destination, Alice glanced up at the triple-light gas lamp which stood in the centre of the marketplace. Then she looked around her, wondering where to start.

‘You ain’t lost, am yer, my babby?’ a woman asked.

‘No, thank you, I’m not. I’m looking for a job,’ Alice replied with hardly a trace of a Black Country accent. Alice had been home-schooled and her mother had insisted she spoke the ‘Queen’s English’, which was one more thing to irritate the life out of her father.

‘Aw, I see. Well, good luck wi’ that.’

The woman moved on and Alice had another pang of realisation – being independent was going to be a lot harder than she had first thought. She decided to start at the top of the market and work her way down one side and back up the other. She would ask at every stall if they knew of any work going that would earn her enough to buy food.

It was not much of a plan but it was better than standing around gaping. With a spring in her step, she set off.

Alice Truelove was determined that by the end of the day she would either have a job or, at the very least, something to eat.

2

‘Hello, Alice, are you coming to see me?’ the woman standing at the fruit stall called out.

‘Not today, Mrs O’Connell, I’m looking for work.’

‘What, at your age?’ came the reply. Alice nodded. ‘Sorry I can’t help, but here – take this.’ The fruiterer threw her an apple and Alice caught it deftly.

‘Thanks, Mrs O’Connell.’

Moving on, Alice saw a child crying in the street, his kindly father on one knee hugging the boy who clearly was distraught about something. Seeing this made Alice suddenly think of her own father and she realised the time had long since passed when she had cried bitterly over her father’s cruel words. She had built a carapace as hard as iron around herself. She only wept now for her mom and the future they might have had together.

Biting into the apple, she relished the flavour on her tongue. Coming to another stall, she swallowed before asking her question.

‘No, bab, sorry,’ the young woman selling second-hand boots and shoes called back. The same answer came from every stall and Alice began to despair. What would she do if she couldn’t find work? Where would she live? Probably in the park or in a doorway. How would she survive with no food and no money? She would have to beg and scavenge until she was lucky enough to find a job.

She tried her luck at the shops in Union Street but to no avail, nobody was hiring. Back in the market once more, she sat on an old upturned bucket left outside the Talbot Hotel to eat her bread and butter, having built up a ravenous appetite with all the walking. As she chewed, Alice watched the comings and goings of the folk of Wednesbury.

A coal-mining town in the Black Country, it was being strangled by poverty as the pits were closing one by one, having been worked out. These closures had seen countless men out of work and many had also lost their homes, which were tied to the pits. Whole families suddenly found themselves out on the streets with some eventually ending up at the workhouse gates. A few mines were still in use and the coal dust, carried on the wind, coated the buildings black. The air was thick with the tiny particles, at times giving rise to lung diseases and coughing illnesses.

Alice heard a bugle sound and saw the rag and bone man’s cart pass by. She wrinkled her nose at the smell emanating from the bag tied beneath the horse’s tail which caught the manure; that would sell for a tidy price to a keen gardener, no doubt.

Two women were chatting on the corner and Alice smiled as a man walked past, saying, ‘Canting again, Doris?’

The woman rounded on him with, ‘It ain’t none of your business, Bert Hawkins, so take your big nose away to find a job!’ Clearly the couple knew each other well, for Alice saw them smile as the man strode away, the nails hammered into the soles of his boots tapping on the cobbles.

As she glanced around, she saw a boy about her own age watching her as he leaned against a wall, his hands in his trouser pockets and his feet crossed. Alice frowned but ignored him as she continued to eat. She wondered if he had his eye on her food, but she dismissed that idea as she finished her meagre meal. The boy, however, continued to watch her.

Brushing the crumbs from her skirt, Alice retrieved her clothes bundle from by her feet and stood up. With a final glance at the boy, she walked away towards High Street to resume her search for work. Throughout the afternoon, as she passed from one shop to another, she occasionally caught sight of the boy. Was he following her? If so, why? Surely he would realise she had no money or anything worth his interest.

The sun began to lower towards the horizon and Alice was still wandering around the town. As it was summertime, the darkness wouldn’t fall until quite late, but she was still left with the same dilemma. Find somewhere safe to sleep or go home. Alice couldn’t bear the thought of returning to her father to endure yet more verbal abuse.

Striding down Lower High Street, Alice entered the grounds of St John’s church and went into the building itself. Sitting in the first pew she came to, she looked around. Dust motes floated lazily in the last rays of sunshine coming through the tall windows. It was quiet and smelled of beeswax polish. Alice swung her legs as she gazed up at the high vaulted ceiling. She heard the patter of tiny feet as a mouse scuttled around looking for food. Then the door opened.

Alice turned to see who had come in and was surprised to see the boy from the market. He sat in the pew across from her, his feet resting in the aisle.

‘Are you following me?’ Alice asked quietly. The boy nodded. ‘Why?’

‘I was hoping you’d share yer sammich,’ he answered.

‘Sandwich,’ Alice corrected. ‘What’s your name?’

‘BJ.’

‘That’s not a proper name,’ Alice said, a little haughtily.

‘Bertram Jordan, but everybody calls me BJ.’

‘Well, BJ, I’m afraid I’ve eaten my bread and butter so you can stop following me now.’

‘Ain’t you got anything else?’

‘Haven’t, not ain’t,’ Alice said with a little sigh. ‘No, I have nothing else.’

‘What’s in your parcel?’ BJ asked.

‘A change of clothes.’

‘Oh. Ain’t you got a home then?’

Alice shook her head with another sigh, clearly her efforts to improve his grammar had fallen on deaf ears. ‘Not any more.’

‘Where are you going to live?’

‘I don’t know. I thought I might sleep in here…’ Alice began.

‘They lock it up at night,’ BJ cut in. ‘You’ll be shut in all by yerself – all night!’

‘I could leave in the morning when the vicar opens up again.’

‘What if he don’t? What if he drops down dead in the night? You won’t be able to get out and you’ll starve to death!’

‘You are a little ray of sunshine, aren’t you?’ Alice said, although she took his words to heart. ‘So where do you live, BJ?’ He didn’t answer. ‘I see, and do you live with your parents?’

BJ shook his head. ‘Nah, they’m dead. The influmenza took ’em a few years back. Now I live by my own self.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. Well, if I don’t want to be caught by the vicar, I’d best be getting along,’ Alice said as she grabbed her bundle and got to her feet.

‘Where you goin’?’

‘I don’t know yet.’

‘You can come along o’me if’n you want,’ BJ said in all innocence.

Exiting the church, Alice asked, ‘Where to?’

‘Wherever we won’t be moved on by the coppers.’

Alice considered the proposal as they strolled down the street.

BJ kicked a pebble and watched it roll away. Alice glanced at the boy as he pushed his brown hair out of his chocolate-drop eyes, before shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. His shirt had a ragged collar and cuffs, his waistcoat was too big – clearly a hand-me-down. His trousers ended shy of his boots, which themselves had seen better days. BJ was a likeable lad but definitely in need of a wash, the dirt ingrained in his skin.

‘We could be like bruvva and sister,’ he said as they walked.

Alice smiled. What could it hurt? After all, Alice had nowhere else to go other than home, and she would most definitely not be returning there.

‘Wot’s yer name?’ BJ asked.

‘Alice Truelove.’

‘Nice to meet yer, Alice.’

‘Likewise, BJ.’

3

‘Why ain’t you got no home then?’ BJ asked as they walked on.

‘I left because my father doesn’t want me,’ Alice responded quietly.

‘That ain’t very nice.’

‘It is what it is,’ Alice replied resignedly.

‘You talk posh, where did you learn?’

‘I