We soon reached our destination, an imposing-looking public house, set back from a large, cobbled area lined with rows of stalls, now tied down for the night. A light was visible through the semi-opaque front windows of the pub, but the main doors were locked and bolted.
"Will they admit us at this hour, Jack?"
"If we ask for a room, we need to explain why we are here this late and have no luggage. Say that our wagon broke down half a mile back and is in for repair but will not be ready until late tomorrow morning. We've stabled the horse but need a room for the night. Offer to pay in advance. That should do it."
I was beginning to realise the extent of my debt to Jack. There is no way I could have managed this on my own.
I did as he said, and we got a room easily enough. I asked the landlord if we could get a drink and something to eat, and he directed us to the 'Residents Bar', which kept late hours for the people down here for the market.
The bar was full even at this hour, mostly farmers and the like, and the barmaid directed us to a table set out for dinner and took our modest order. Neither of us had any appetite, but for appearance's sake, we had a glass of beer each, and Jack sank his readily enough.
"Used to the beer, are you, Jack?"
"It's healthier than drinking water most of the time, and I'm older than you think."
I was about to reply when a stranger, his face partly concealed by the upturned collar of his coat, appeared by my side.
"Excuse me, sir, but I couldn't help but notice the tone of your speech, which reminded me of a friend I used to know. He came from a far-off place that I have now forgotten, but I am sure it was somewhere quite minor."
He left the word paused in mid-air, and I was quick to react.
"You are correct, sir; would you like to join us?"
It was Copperfield, indeed, and he explained how, when they left the World of Fiction, he was the first to arrive here and was immediately spotted by a couple of soldiers. Wanting to distract them, he shouted abuse at the men and ran down the hill. They began pursuit, but hindered by all their equipment, he led them at a slow pace until, confident that his three fellow travellers had escaped, he ran on and easily evaded his pursuers.
He had been searching for Agnes and her father without success when he heard of my presence here. After alerting a gang of street urchins to find me, he realised that he needed a place for the searchers to contact him and booked himself into this establishment.
The Wickfields had brought a substantial amount of money with them and divided it among themselves in case they became separated. It proved to be a wise decision. I told him our story, and he was delighted at the prospect of seeing Agnes again.
Albert had promised to return to the bridge at midnight each day, and we planned to lie low until then. We arrived at the bridge at quarter to midnight, cold and wet in the pouring rain, but at least we had nothing to carry. David had hidden his large bag behind a fence at the bottom of the overgrown garden of an empty house when he first arrived here. He came back to retrieve it less than an hour later, but it was long gone.
There was nobody but us on the bridge when Albert arrived promptly at midnight. The portal door opened, and I pushed David in first.
"You're next," I said to Jack.
But I had not fooled him.
"Arter, you, sir," he said with an exaggerated bow.
"Come on, Jack. There is no time to lose. Tell Albert that I'll be back at the same time tomorrow night."
"Like I said, you wouldn't survive out there on your own. If you are going back for the woman, then I'm coming with you."
"No need, Jack," I said, but the sound of a police whistle stopped me dead.
"That came from the Westminster side," said Jack. Start running now, mate, and no buts."
"Go!" I shouted at Albert. "Same time tomorrow and dim those lights!"
Jack and I ran towards the Lambeth end and had just come off and nipped down a side road when I looked back and saw a party of constables piling out of a horse-drawn Black Maria and heading down the bridge with truncheons drawn. What they expected to find in the middle, I could not imagine, but I glimpsed a spark of green light in the dark sky and knew that Albert had escaped.
"Right, Jack, straight for the Imperial Hotel," I said. "Nobody will accost us on a night like this."
It was true because the heavy rain was now a torrential downpour, and the wind had risen, driving the rain into our faces. We were soaking wet by the time we made it to the hotel, but at least we found it. Something again that I would never have accomplished without Jack.
Half an hour later, Jack and I huddled together in front of a blazing fire in the warm back kitchen of the hotel. We draped ourselves in heavy towels while our wet clothes steamed on a wooden clothes horse beside us.
Both of us were drinking mugs of hot tea while the very obliging manager was having our rooms prepared. He had confirmed Millie and her child were still here, asleep in their room, and I decided not to bother her before morning. Soon after, we were in bed ourselves, and I slept soundly.
The next morning, Jack and I were having breakfast in a small private parlour when the door opened, and in came Millie with her child. It was a strange moment, for we were virtual strangers yet bound together by the life-and-death circumstances of our first meeting.
We exchanged impersonal pleasantries, and I rang the bell for the servant to take Millie's breakfast order. She ordered a good breakfast for herself and warm milk for the baby, and they arrived simultaneously. Jack shocked me by offering to feed the infant with the teated bottle Millie had brought down with her while she ate her breakfast. He did the task expertly, and I realised how little I knew of him.
Millie herself looked like a different person from the one I had bundled into the cab on that foggy night. She was still very tired and drawn, but she had bathed and been out that morning to purchase the very modest long black dress and simple shawl she now wore.
The baby was wearing a clean white shift, and Milly had wrapped it in a soft cotton blanket. We were silent as Millie ate, and my gaze flickered between her and the baby. Jack was now 'winding' the baby by holding it on his shoulder and gently patting its back until it rewarded him with a loud burp. Showing no inclination to hand the child back to his mother, Jack settled it comfortably in the crook of his arm and began to rock it to sleep. Millie watched the pair of them together with a puzzled expression on her face as if the sight were somehow familiar to her, but in the end, she turned away and gave her attention to me.
I cannot remember how the conversation started, but we sat together in that back parlour for two hours. She could tell me little about her past life, for she had lost all memory of it. All she remembered was crossing a bridge, and in her arms, she held what she instinctively knew was her six-month-old baby. Terrified, she had tried to cry out, but her mouth was too dry, and she felt that she would die of thirst.
As she staggered forward, a woman caught Millie in her arms and, upon hearing her croaking voice, managed to force the remains of a tin flask of cold tea down her throat. Then she helped Millie walk off the bridge. But once on the street, Millie felt the woman's hands searching through her clothing and then the clinking of coins as she removed the purse tied around Millie's waist.
The old woman let Millie slide to the ground and walked rapidly away, holding the purse tightly in her hand. But she heard the infant wailing, and her conscience caused her to come back and return a couple of the coins to Millie.
"Sorry, dearie, but I've got three at home that haven't eaten since yesterday. Get something for you and the child from that cafe across the road."
With that, she was gone. Millie did as she said, and for the next few days, she wandered around in confusion, begging for herself and her baby and surviving on scraps.
A kind milk deliveryman, seeing the condition of her infant child, had poured milk from his churn into the old lemonade bottle she used for carrying water.
The night we stumbled across her in the dark, she was at her lowest ebb, and in what later proved to be a cruel irony, she was about to search for a workhouse and beg for shelter. She said how grateful she was for what I had done. She had no friends or relatives to turn to and could not imagine what would happen to her and the baby once the money I had given her ran out.
It came to my turn for an explanation, and I thought I would have great difficulty convincing her that we could travel to other worlds, but oddly enough, she did not seem too alarmed by the revelation. I offered her the chance to return with us, and she accepted immediately.
Later, we made our last rendezvous with Albert, and Jack and I returned home with two more refugees, wrongly thinking that the adventure was over. Little did I know then, of the awful trial that awaited me.