From the outside, the yard is uncared and weeds and vines all around the old house.  It had the appearance that it had been left by some family that had moved and planned to return but at least a decade had not after all.  Purposefully or by tragic, the house had been left with its furniture covered by now dusty white sheets and contents left intact.  Nat had come across it about six months after she arrived in Whitby three years previously, and has made one of the large back bedrooms her home ever since.

Having been raised by the owners of a pawn shop, she had known how to pawn things.  That she had done carefully, only an item here and there and not too soon in the timing.  It had given her the funds for groceries and supplies.  She didn't live rich in any way and used the funds she could earn doing odd jobs more than she used the funds she could use from pawning something in this house.  She didn't want to take these things, and only did so when she needed food or warm things there like that first winter.

Currently, there was a warm fire burning in the bedroom fireplace with a stew cooking on a kettle.  It was just past sunset, and she was relaxing sitting reading one of the books she had found in the library.    She was wearing worn trousers, a long-sleeved thick flannel shirt, her chest was still wrapped tightly from her day of selling newspapers.  Her hat and a thick jacket were over on a chair, but her hair was cut short like any boy might have it cut.  It seemed to be a typical evening for her.

With the sun going down, the temperature began to drop too. Add the sea, and Bert was grateful to some anonymous tailor for his weighty, high collared uniform jacket. The evening's beat had been quiet. Not that Bert didn't enjoy the rush of a good chase. Tonight, though he wasn't feeling it.

"Excuse me, officer?" An older plump woman in sensible clothes asked him. Rather attractive if you ask me. He thought. But this wasn't a church social, it was time to help the public.

"Yes madam."

"I'm sorry to bother you officer but, I was taking a walk and I observed some light coming from a house I know to be empty."

"Which house, madam?"

She gave him the address

"You see, the house hasn't been lived in for years. I'm afraid someone might be up to something criminal."

"Thank you, madam. I shall investigate immediately."

Putting down the book, Nat went over to test the stew.  The steam coming up smelled lovely to her, and with the chill around the edges of the room away from the fire itself she thought stew would warm her up inside at least.  Picking up one of the bowls that she had "borrowed" from the kitchen down below and ladled out a portion of the stew and cross-legged down in front of the fire and began to eat.  It wasn't the life she wanted, but if she could save up, and get a regular paying job, she could rent a room of her own.  However, acting to be a 13-year-old boy, there were not a lot of regular jobs.  She had earned enough to pay for food and necessaries, even a few used clothing items.  However, not yet earning enough to live in a proper place.

A diffused beam of light from Bert's issued lantern stabbed at the darkness bouncing off pavement, buildings, and the sky. His eyes narrowed and his face scrunched as he tried to make sense of shapes in the darkness. It could also be the smoke and heat from the lantern's chimney that irritated his nose. Was this the correct address? Had that woman got it wrong? This place looked long abandoned, with no outward signs of use. It couldn't hurt to have a quick look round.

Bert shoved the gate open and waded through the tall grass and shrubbery, his tiny lamp waving limply at the gloomy edifice. He jerked to a stop as his truncheon caught in a large bush, and Bert wrestled his equipment free. Bert continued exploring around the exterior of home, squinting, trying to determine what was building, what was sky, and there it was. A thin golden halo of orange light, someone was in there.

Finishing her bowl of stew, Nat washed it with a nearby tub of water for just this purpose.  Then making sure the lid was on the kettle, she set it aside for the next morning's breakfast.  With an easy relaxed motion, she made sure the fire was low yet would be warm enough to keep the room warm for the night taking the poker to shift the last of the wood that was in the fire. 

She began to remove the costume items to let her body relax the only time she allowed it to when she slept in a safe place.  She pulled down her trousers and partially unbuttoned the man typed onesie underwears.  She removed the device she had made of a cut-off funnel and a bit of rubber tube wrapped with cloth to allow anyone accidentally bumping into her private areas to think she had the appropriate male organs.  Also, it allowed her to go to a corner and pee looking like a boy.  She had observed many of the street boys and adult men do so when it was out with just males around.  She had worked hard for her manners and movements to be like the males around her over the years she had been on her own.

She had been rebuttoning the undersuit when she heard something outside.  She had not had the time to unwrap her chest as yet.  She paused to determine if it was a cat chasing some rodent outside in the bushes.  She couldn't take the risk.  She quickly made sure her clothing was covering her appropriately and put on her jacket and scarf.  Wrapping a scarf around her neck and putting on her hat, she quickly glanced at the very low fire in the fireplace and let it stay.  The sound was likely a cat.  She headed down the stairs with silence, knowing where the worst creaking places on the stairs were, and she paused, listening.

Bert's lantern cast it's insipid glow through the windows, but they were relatively opaque from dirt on the glass. He could tell the room was furnished, sitting room or the like but everything was covered. Retracing his steps Bert moved through the tall grass towards the front door. There was a small wooden step, warped and cracked with age that creaked noticeably under his weight. He re-buckled his lantern to his belt before reaching for the doorknob.

She peeked into the ghostly-looking furniture in the various rooms downstairs and saw the dim light through the dirty windows.  Someone was outside and looking inside.  She figured it was another person like her looking for a place to live in or someone to loot the place.  Well, she was already claiming it.  She picked up one of the fire pokers from the kitchen and stayed in the shadows of the main hallway just under the main stairs.

The door wouldn't budge easily, so Bert put some force behind it and it gave just a little. Bert shouted through the gap

"Police! Whoever you are, you're trespassing on private property. Come outside at once!"

Nat heard the man call out.  She winced.  She would have for sure to move to another location.  It was getting warmer now, so it wouldn't be too bad.  But she had been enjoying a real bed for a change.  She put down the fire poker and called out.  "The other door works better, but not much, officer.  The back window was broken before I found it though."  She was at least honest, she got where he could see her through the gap in the door he was at.  She looked like some kid no younger than 10 but at oldest 13.  "It was long empty with a jungle of weeds around."  She explained.  "Just wanted to be warm, mister."

Oh great... a child

The grubby urchin appeared from the shadows, lit by the glow of Bert's patrol lamp. Dressed like a boy, but with surprisingly soft features. Bert's patience for children had long been exhausted by the antics of youthful gangs in the slums of his native Teeside. He'd been spat on countless times, and had his helmet be the target for cherubic slingshot marksmen. Not to mention that the crying of babes was a sound he deeply loathed.

"This is private property, not a playhouse." Bert answered sternly "Clear off 'ome. What would your parents say?"