"Now it came about when he had finished speaking to Saul, that the soul of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as himself." —1 Samuel 18:1
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Trixie decided the morning after the races that Scarlett Kimber's brand of fun differed quite significantly from her own, and that she had no interest in pursuing it ever again. Her memories of the night previous blurred beginning with the pipe, and all she could recount from thereafter was that Tommy had driven her home and walked her to the door before leaving to head home himself. When she woke, her mouth was dry, and the copy of Wuthering Heights from Kimber's library sat atop her nightstand.
Had she stolen that, or had Tommy? Surely, she would've remembered if she'd been the one to pocket the book, but there was no reason for Tommy to take it on her behalf. Trixie reached over for the book and thumbed through its pages in search of an indication as to how it had been transported from Kimber's mansion to her tenement, but it was untouched. The spine was unbent, she realized. Trixie had been the first to read it.
Well, however it had gotten there, she wasn't going to let it go to waste. Trixie spent Sunday at Church and then at home racing through the remaining chapters—by the time she'd finished, it was time for bed.
Monday saw her back to work—and likely back to seeing Tommy again. She felt like she should be embarrassed about the state he'd seen her in, but everything was so temporary these days. What did it matter what he thought? Soon they'd part, and never see each other again, and she'd marry some dreadfully boring man and waste away raising their children. When she arrived at the betting shop, Tommy hadn't yet arrived, so Trixie deposited her things at her usual seat before approaching the chalkboards. She poked John squarely in the back.
"Morning," she greeted.
He nearly jumped out of his skin. "Jesus, Trixie," he hissed. "It's too early."
She reached over to his breast pocket and plucked the half-full flask from him. "Too early for poking, but not too early to be drunk at work?"
John snatched it away. "Mind your business."
"Yeah, yeah. Have you seen your sister?"
The races had been a distraction—and not even that pleasant of one—but Trixie knew that Campbell would find her soon enough and start demanding answers.
