The twins Nug and Meg Grindle became orphans at the tender age of seven. Their Mother, Molly, was a woman who gave herself to drunkards for pennies. It was only a matter of time before she caught the bube and died of the dirty disease while touting for business in the gin shops around Seven dials. 

They didn't mourn their Mother's death; grief was a luxury in which only the wealthy indulged. Instead they ran like the clappers when they overheard the landlord's excited exclamation on discovering their Mother's corpse,  "It looks like Molly Grindle's a gonna. Go and grab them two chavy's of hers waitin outside, we'll get good money for em."  The poor mites had no time for tears.

When they reached the Strand they rested in an unused doorway of the Gaiety Theatre. Nug put a reassuring arm around his sister and said, "We've got each other Meg and that's a lot more than most folk have in London town." They were aware of the dangers that lurked on every corner, so they huddled deeper into the dark recess when the theatre's gaily chattering audience spilled past. After all, some toffs were carting orphans off to the workhouse, the place they were determined to avoid.

They woke to the sound of barrows and carts making their way down the Strand on the way to Covent Garden Market. Nug darted from their sleeping place and honed in on a batch of battered apples that had fallen off a wagon. He had competition from a gaggle of bare footed urchins, but after a short scuffle and a boot in their whirligigs he managed to secure a couple. They wiped the horse manure off, gave them a spit and polish, and feasted on their tartness.

Unlike the child savages and petty pick-pockets that populated London's streets, they had boots. Their Mother, probably realising her death was imminent, had taken them to Petticoat lane and kitted them out with a new wardrobe a week before she died. Thus they were able to mingle among the bustle of Covent Garden without incurring the local's wrath – they didn't yet look like ragamuffins.

"Aunt Mary from Whitechapel," said Meg, as they sat eating sheep's trotters, robbed from a street vendor. She wasn't their real aunt, but a friend of their Mother's. "Maybe she'll take us in for a while?" Meg yearned to sleep in a bed after the umpteenth night on the streets.  Nug pondered before saying, "Naaaaah Meg, she's a drunkard, we'll be better off on us own."

Their belly's full, the twins dawdled down Garrick Street as the sun went down on another day. Nug stopped outside a grand house, "Blimey Meg, ave a look in ere." They peered through the window at the illuminated wealth on display, hypnotised by the sparkling light, until a man's voice startled them back into reality, "Hello children?" Nug's response was swift, "Sorry Sir, do excuse us, just admiring the room we was." He was tall and expensively dressed; his smile revealed sparkling teeth, the likes of which the twins had never seen. "Thank you, I'm pleased you like my home, and I trust you have one of your own to go to?"

"Yeah, we do Sir, and we better get going cos our Ma will be vexed if we're late home," lied Nug. The man produced a collection of coins and handed them to Nug, "Share this between yourselves, and have a lovely evening."  Nug couldn't believe it – two jingling guineas, rich man's money.

They treated themselves to a meal of meat, broth and coffee in a tavern. As always Nug saw opportunity, "I fink we should go back again Meg; for some reason he's charmed by us." But Meg, true to form, expressed caution, "I aint sure, just don't feel right to me."  Nug sucked on a bone, his tongue searching every crevice for nourishing marrow; he understood his sister's wary, but was prepared to risk another encounter, if it meant another guinea.

The straw mattress in the common lodging house soothed the twins into a sleep so deep they remained undisturbed by the chorus of snoring and other bodily sounds coming from the drunkards who slept standing, propped up against the tuppeny rope. 

After two nights of decent sleep the twins were positively perky. Meg was even enthusiastic about re-visiting the posh man, "Let's show him what a pretty pair-a-nippers we are, let's go down the wash house."

They didn't scrub, ingrained grime was good for keeping out disease their Mother always told them. Once dried and dressed they set off for Garrick Street as bright as buttons, ready to bump into the gentleman again.

This time there was no money forthcoming, instead he offered something else: an invitation to a small soiree he was having the following evening, "I would like to meet your parents," he said, with a glistening smile.

"We can't go Nug, he'll see we're orphans and ave us put in the workhouse."

"We have to Meg, I'll make up a good excuse, trust me."

The maid welcomed them in. At first the grandeur went unnoticed as the twins were overwhelmed by the smell. Their young nostrils were only accustomed to the London odour: shit, rotten meat, unwashed bodies, rancid breath, fried street food; all wrapped up in a pungent, sooty top note. For the first time in their lives they inhaled a clean polished air. They held their nostrils and marvelled at the opulent entrance hall of Garrick House.

The gentleman didn't bat an eyelid when Nug conveyed his apologies for their parents' lack of attendance, he just smiled and invited them into the drawing room to meet his guests. He first introduced a Mr David Galderm and his wife Mrs Gloria Galderm, a portly lady, who appeared a little gin soaked, a condition the twins were accustomed to. Finally he introduced himself, "And I'm Dr Robert Dwyer, it's a pleasure to have your company."

Meg remained guarded, still suspicious of the Doctor's intentions. Nug however, revelled in their good fortune, drinking his tea from a bone china cup like a seasoned young gentleman. The piddled Mrs Galderm stared at them both, her rotating head revealing signs of awe, "They are two of the most exquisite creatures one has ever seen, such perfection should be exhibited," she slurred. Mr Galderm added, "And their similarity is remarkable, they are completely identical." Their fawning enlightened Meg, she realised they had a gift that gave them the privilege to be drinking tea with wealthy people – their beauty in duplicate.

The cup and saucer didn't break as it hit the carpet; sheer shock caused Meg to drop them. Mrs Galderm blurted the news out with a slurred indiscretion, its gruesome nature not being suitable for young ears... "The illustrated news – hic – said the poor soul was sliced up and her heart ripped out..." Master David tried to intervene, but to no avail, she was on a role... "She was a dollymop of course, Whitechapel's swarming with them – hic – still no woman deserves a death like that – hic." She paused for another slurp, before continuing... "Mary Ann Nichols, such a pretty name for a common prostitute – hic." 

Meg released a pent up deluge of tears on hearing of her aunt Mary's violent end. Nug joined his sister, holding her close in belated mourning for their double loss. He explained the truth of their situation to Dr Dwyer, expecting to be admonished and expelled for his lies. But instead, he saw sympathy in his eyes.

The twins placed a Lilly on grave 210752 at the city of London cemetery and said a prayer for their aunt Mary. Despite Dr Dwyer's efforts he couldn't locate their Mother's resting place. The twins had now resided with the Doctor for a week, their enquiring enthusiasm and gaiety filling the house with joy. Moreover, they had exposed a nurturing instinct within the Doctor – Nug wondered how long their fortuitous situation would last.

Their room was on the third floor, accessed by a steep staircase at the back of the house. "I still can't believe it Nug," said Meg, as she dived under the clean sheets, "still not sure if we should trust him yer know?" Nug rolled his eyes, accustomed to his sister's scepticism. He felt Dr Dwyer was different, his intentions good, and he reassured her. But just as he was about to nod off, Meg said, "Don't yer think it's strange he won't let us go anywhere near the second floor, he's hiding sumfink he is."

The Doctor's maid would let them in after their daily adventures. They'd wash, then entertain the Doctor with gossip and tittle-tattle over dinner. Nug hoped they could stay, indefinitely.

Meg however, seemed determined to upset the apple cart. One evening the Doctor announced he would be dinning at the Galderms and staying over. As soon as he left, Meg made a dash for the forbidden second floor, the place they were expressly told never to venture.

It smelled different from the rest of the house, a street smell familiar to her. Filled with curiosity she made her way along the hall, stopping at a door with an ornate golden knob. She reached to turn it, but was floored by a sudden shriek: "CHILD! How dare you disrespect the Doctor's rules," screamed the maid.

Meg worried she may have jeopardized their position. She was about to tell Nug of her indiscretion but became distracted by a kafuffle on the street. A crowd had gathered around the newsstand at the end of the embankment, where a  zealous old man addressed the public: "Sliced up, just like that poor woman last week. Annie Chapman's her name. Bits of her is missing, they say the murderer could be a medical man cos she was cut up with skills."

Nug raced to inform Dr Dwyer of the sensational news whilst Meg dawdled behind, troubled. The man's words swam repeatedly round her head..."could be a medical man."

Meg's mulling mind tormented her. But when Dr Dwyer greeted them with warmth, she felt guilty. Her suspicions were foolish – kind men don't commit heinous crimes.

Raised voices woke her: a squabble coming from somewhere in the house. She teased the door open a fraction, and caught the end of a tirade from the maid, "I can't keep doing this for yer – and the girl, she suspects sumfink, a clever little thing she is, I caught her snoopin round yer floor the other day..."

She couldn't discuss this with Nug; she felt sad about keeping secrets from him, but he was becoming accustomed to their new life and wouldn't listen to her 'imagined' woes. 

Dr Dwyer was odd towards her the following day, or perhaps it was she who was odd with him? She was mindful to act normal around him, but occasionally found herself averting her eyes from his gaze, lest he see just the smallest speck of suspicion.

London became infected with fevered speculation in the days after the second east end murder.  When Meg heard that the killer was probably a notorious east end character known as Leather Apron, she was relieved she had said nothing of her suspicions to Nug. But now, something else bothered her; she was becoming aware of a shift in her brother. His speech was changing, becoming 'proper.' On more than one occasion he had publicly corrected her English. He took to the reading lessons Mrs Galderm was giving them with gusto. Meg was struggling, not having her brother's natural aptitude for words. She began to feel excluded. Alone. Fearful.

While Nug stayed indoors reading, Meg ambled the streets of Covent Garden alone. An icy wind sliced through the air, carrying cold whispered words, which chilled her: "He's struck again, calls himself Jack. He's ripped up two poor souls last night, within an hour of each other. It's not safe for any woman in London now, only a matter of time before he strikes up west. " Meg froze, she had watched from the top floor window as Dr Dwyer had left the house just after dark the previous evening. Her suspicion shot back, winding her with a thumping clarity.

Confident her brother was deep in sleep, Meg slid out of bed and made her way stealth like to the bowels of the house in search of something. In the basement she was struck by the aroma of dirt and soap, a smell she recognised from the public washhouse; she was in the laundry room. A small glass porthole delivered a shred of light from the street lamps above which illuminated a shadowy mass in the corner – clothes. Meg recognised them as the Doctor's; the blood that soaked them revealingly fresh, she had found what she searched for: evidence.

A potent mix of relief and fear fuelled her upwards to inform Nug. She was distracted by Mr Galderm's voice on the second floor, speaking in a hushed and desperate tone: "My wife suspects something, she's reported you to the police, they'll be here in the morning, be prepared; perhaps we can blame it on her gin consumption."

"Oh my God Meg, I feel right bad that you've had to find this all out on yer tod. I'm right sorry I am, had me head stuck in the clouds. The house is locked up at night, but it'll be morning soon, we'll make a run for it then," said Nug as he wedged the bed against the door.

An insistent knock woke them, "NUG – he's come to finish us off!" screeched Meg.

"Who is it?" asked Nug. The Dr answered, "It's me children, open the door – immediately."

Meg armed herself with a lamp as Nug spoke, "Go away Dr Dwyer, yer in enough trouble already. We know the blue-bottles will be ere soon."

The Doctor's voice was firm, "Yes, the police will be paying me a visit, and I should like to explain why."

Meg screamed, "We know why. Go away Jack, you won't be ripping us up!" They waited for a response, but instead they heard a most unexpected sound: soft peels of laughter. Eventually his mirth subsided and he spoke, "Children, I am not a murderer, but I do have a secret for which I may be in trouble. Please open the door and let me explain." Meg put the lamp down and together they pulled back the bed, curious.

The Doctor looked disheveled and tired, reminding Nug of a guilt-ridden dog: head bowed, body diminished, cowering. Meg, eager for truth jumped in, "I seen all the blood on yer clothes?" His smile seemed tired, "I'm a Doctor, blood is often spilled in my job, Meg."

"What you in trouble for then?" she asked, impatient.

"I'm in love," he said, as though love were wrong.

"Bluebottles don't put men away for loving Dr Dwyer, you'll be alright," said Nug, with assurance.

"Oh but they do dear Nug – it's forbidden for man to love man."

"You're in love with a geyser, what geyser?" asked Meg, intrigued.

"Mr Galderm."

"Blimey." said Meg, incredulous.

Nug had often observed the respectful bond between the two men and had thought it more akin to affection than the constant bickering between Mr Galderm and his wife. Now, he knew the strong protective urge he felt for all three adults was also borne of love.

"How can we help?" asked Nug, placing a hand on the Doctor's shoulder.

"By saying nothing of the truth I've told you, so we three, can remain as we are – a family."

His words touched the twins with their warm embrace; they had lost their mother and found a father.

The Grindle twins hoped there would come a time when the love that nurtured them became lawful. 

Until then, the secret would remain secure, locked deep within the bosom of their family.