When he finally found Eamon, it was almost by accident.
He'd been following his normal Tuesday routine, looking for his friend down near the docks. Today, he'd varied his route a little, seeking out spots that they'd once called home, deserted warehouses and sail lofts, sheltered areas around the back of public houses and restaurants where they'd once searched for leftovers.
It was a gloomy day, warm and humid, the clouds gathering darkly overhead and he reckoned it was going to get stormy later. Out in the bay, Seal Rock turned murky as the rain swept in. He turned up the collar of his jacket as it started to fall, a few fat dusty drops quickly turning into a steady shower, and he ducked into an old warehouse that seemed familiar from his days on the streets.
It was there that he saw him, amongst the old crates, the rusting winches and limp piles of tangled fishing nets. The young man was standing at the door on the other side, chewing on a stale-looking roll and staring out glumly. Although he was silhouetted against the grey light, Lucky recognised him immediately.
"Eamon!" he cried, as he strode over. "I can't believe it, it's you!"
"Lucas?" he said as he turned, his face a mixture of surprise and joy. "Lucas, is that you?"
Instinctively, Lucky ran up and threw his arms around his friend, hugging him tightly and holding on for several long seconds as if he might disappear, then held him at arm's length as he looked him up and down. Eamon was tanned, and his curly hair cut shorter, but it was definitely him.
"Lucas, you look so different, so smart and clean cut! But it's definitely you!" Eamon exclaimed.
"How are you? Where have you been? What have you been doing? How long have you been in White Harbour?" he asked, the questions coming thick and fast.
Eamon smiled and held his hands up, then pointed to a straw bale, inviting Lucas to sit.
"I'm well and I'll answer all your questions but let's start at the beginning, eh? You remember that night I last saw you? When that gang chased us?"
Lucas nodded: "How could I forget?"
"Well after we split up, I got away from those bastards and made it back down here," he said, tearing the roll in two and offering half to Lucky.
"You escaped then?" Lucky prompted, shaking his head as he took a seat. "I was worried about you."
"Come on, you know you shouldn't have worried. You know me, always falling in the shit but coming out smelling of roses, eh?" he continued, with a crooked grin. "Although I did have a sleepless night, that night. I kept hoping you'd be back, and then when I woke up on me own in the morning I feared the worst. So I asked around and before long I heard that you'd been taken in by a lady doctor, but that they weren't allowing anyone in to see you as you was so unwell."
"That's right, I was very lucky."
"Then later that day, someone told me that Spider's gang was still looking for me so it
seemed best to make meself scarce for a bit."
He paused as he took another bite of his roll.
"It didn't feel good to leave without telling you, but I didn't have no choice, did I? There just didn't seem any point me hanging around here. You were in the best place, I was told the lady doctor was the best, see? That same day, I ran into a friend who runs wagons to and from the north every week, and when I tells him my troubles he mentions that he's heard a rumour that they've just found gold in a place called Millers Creek, and so's I find myself on a wagon up there that very night."
Lucky shook his head: "You've been mining for gold these last months?"
"That I have, and I have to tell you that I've been very successful," Eamon said, smiling briefly. "At least, at first. Then some of the others started forming gangs, and buying out some of the other lads. In the end, they rigged it so's you had to join one of them gangs to be able to make any kind of living so I sold up too, made enough to travel back down here in a proper carriage though, and a bit more besides."
"I see, and now you're back to stay?"
"Well, for a few days at least."
"Well, I know somewhere you could get a decent job, maybe earn some more coins."
"Ah yes, I heard a rumour that you'd washed up at Madam Pomfrey's. I hear you're doing well there."
"I like it there. There's three square meals a day and somewhere safe and warm to sleep at night, and plenty of time to learn and improve yourself".
"Improve yourself, eh? You sound different, you know. They been teaching you to talk proper there?"
"I suppose they have, I've learnt a lot," he said, recognising the truth in what Eamon said, Rachel had been correcting him in their lessons, taught him to use "isn't" instead of "ain't" and "Madam" instead of "Missus". It had happened gradually, but he supposed he must sound different to someone who hadn't seen him in some time.
"Sounds like you like it there."
"I do and I'm sure that if I spoke for you they'd be pleased to give you a chance," Lucky said, excitedly.
"Ah thanks, but I'm not sure that's me, Lucas. I don't think I'm suited to bowing and scraping to rich ladies, no offence like," Eamon said, holding his hands up once more.
"Well, it's not really like that," Lucky said, feeling a little offended.
"I'm sure you're right, but you know me right? I'm just not suited to that kind of life, to taking orders and scrubbin' floors, I mean, maybe one day, when I've seen a bit more of the world," Eamon said, a little sadly, looking out at the street where the rain was finally easing off.
"Sure, I mean, it's up to you," Lucky said, trying not to show his disappointment. At the back of his mind, he'd long fantasised about Eamon coming back to the Madam's, to showing him round her house, to Eamon joining him, just like the old days.
"And besides, I was talking to this fisherman I know at The Lucky Squid last night," he said, leaning in a little closer. "Apparently, there's a lot of money to be made smuggling in rum from the Spice Islands down the coast at White Horse Bay. Hardly any risk at all, he told me, 'cos they're bribing the local customs agents to turn a blind eye, see? And they're looking for some help, some fit young men who can keep their mouths shut and don't mind a little night work that's not completely legal. So I was thinking, if maybe you're getting bored at the Madam's and want to make some real silver..."
Later Lucky thought about the conversation as he walked over the wet cobblestones and back up the hill, skipping over the puddles and the thin river of dirty brown water sluicing down the middle of the street. He'd told his friend he'd think about it, but the truth was that he was happy at the Madam's and he wouldn't really consider it at all. He felt a slight touch of anger: Eamon had made him sound like a slave but he wasn't that,was he? He could leave any time he wanted, the fact is he chose to stay and anyway, everyone had a boss, didn't they? Everyone had to work to make an honest living.
It was funny, when they were together he'd thought of them as a team, as wanting the same things, as being similar characters headed in the same direction. But seeing him today, he realised how different they were. Perhaps, he reasoned, since they were split up they'd both had the freedom to follow the path that was best for each of them. And it was clear that those paths were very different.
