She carried the cloak and gown to Dennis, the long-faced lad at the stable door. ‘S’truth, you did have call to see him, after all,’ he said. ‘I thought you was fashing me.’
Ella looked at him haughtily. ‘Mr Whitgift says I am to have these.’
Dennis took out a ledger. ‘Just checking they’ve both a few more months to run.’ He kept her hovering there whilst he painstakingly ran his long finger down the list, licking it to turn page after page, before he finally said, ‘Ah, yes. Here we are. Fair enough, I’ll put them to one side. Name?’
‘Er, Miss Johnson. Corey Johnson.’ Drat. She was stuck with that now. Dennis nodded. Ella watched him fold the garments and put them on a shelf behind. She could not help herself but give him a wide smile.
He smiled back. ‘Address?’
She was momentarily nonplussed.
‘Where do you live?’ he said patiently.
‘End of Bread Street. But we’ll be moving soon, now I’ve got work. Somewhere better.’
‘You looking for a room round here?’
‘Why?’
‘My ma sometimes lets out rooms. She’s got one vacant now if you want to take a look. In Blackraven Alley.’
‘Oh no, I don’t think so. We’re seeing a few tonight already,’ she lied. Likely his lodgings would be some old fleapit.
‘Suit yerself,’ he said.
On the way home she spent a few precious pence on a bone comb and some hairpins so she could dress her hair. It felt good to go into the market and point at what she wanted and have it wrapped in a sliver of paper. She walked jauntily down the street in little steps, the way she imagined a lady might walk, repressing the urge to gallop to the wig shop to tell the girls of her good fortune. Of course she couldn’t go back there. A wave of guilt hit her when she thought of Sadie, still hunched over her bench in the stink of the wig shop. Well, she could hardly have taken her with her, now, could she?
Ella tossed the little parcel in the air and caught it again, triumphant. Josiah Whitgift had singled her out. What a peach of a position – she would be paid handsomely to flatter fine ladies and show them how to look becoming. The only way to have security in life was to be a mistress, not a maid. And surely now her life had turned the corner, she was on her way. She could not wait to tell Sadie.
Chapter 10
Sadie saw straight away that it was good news. When Ella came in, her face was rosy and dimpled with smiles and she hugged Sadie hard, almost squeezing the breath out of her, something she had not done once since they came to London.
‘What do you think?’ Ella said. ‘I’m to be in a parlour tempting ladies to buy belladonna and ceruse, and lavender oil, and morning dew.’
‘A perfume seller?’
‘No, not just any old perfume seller. I’m to be dressed up like a lady – Mr Whitgift himself picked out a fine gown for me, yards and yards of red silk, enough for . . . oh, six petticoats –’ she danced Sadie round the table – ‘and he said I’m as pretty as a poppy in a field. He wants me to dress my hair fancy, and—’
‘Stop, I’m getting dizzy.’ Sadie broke away from Ella’s embrace. ‘How much are you getting?’
‘Nineteen shilling a month.’
Sadie gasped. It was far more than she got at the wig shop.
‘I’m to start day after tomorrow. Won’t get my first pay till the end of the month though.’
‘Oh, Ell, what luck! We’ll have to scrape till payday though, we’ve barely enough to feed ourselves. But there’s still my portion from the wig shop coming in, that’ll cover the rent.’
‘We’ll take on a better place as soon as I’ve got my feet under the table. I’ll make myself necessary. There’s an old Mr Whitgift too, the father. They don’t get on. He’s a crabbit old skinflint by all accounts. But I’m after twisting the old gent around my finger. I’m good with old men.’
Sadie felt a qualm of misgiving. ‘You’ve hardly set foot in the place yet, don’t start getting grand ideas. And don’t go against Josiah Whitgift or you could end up back in the gunpowder works.’
‘Oh, clap a stopper in it. I know what I’m doing. You always put a dampener on everything. Can’t you just be pleased for me?’
‘Course I’m pleased, I just worry in case it doesn’t work out. We still have to buy barley for bread, and we’re all but out of tallow for rushlights. I don’t want you taking risks before you see a penny for your work. And I don’t trust that Josiah Whitgift. Corey and Betsy told me there’s shady things go on round his shop.’
‘Lord love us, I’ve only just got the bloody position and you’ve got me out on my ear already. At least I’m bringing in a decent wage, not like your petty mouse droppings from the wig shop.’
‘Don’t. It was always good enough for you before. Anyways, I’m serious. Betsy says Whitgift’s has gone downhill. There’s rumours it’s turned into a meeting house for all sorts – felons and highway thieves.’
‘It’s just a regular second-hand shop, with a pop shop on the side. But bigger, and grander. Lawks, Sadie, you should see it – great piles of pewter, cabinets full of gold plate.’
‘Well, in that case, if we run short it will be a good place to pawn that gold and ruby seal.’
‘We won’t need to, now I’m working.’
Sadie changed the subject. ‘What’s he like, then, this Josiah Whitgift?’
‘He’s, well, he’s . . .’ Ella coloured. Sadie saw the flush rise into her cheeks, her eyes squirm away. ‘He’s just a man, what did you expect?’ snapped Ella.
Sadie sighed. ‘Have a care, Ell. I expect he only took you on because you’re pretty. And good looks can be a blessing, but they can also be a curse.’
‘And I suppose you’d know?’
The barb had been aimed precisely, and hit its target. Sadie felt the cut of it and cast her eyes downwards, but she held her tongue. Ella was obviously not in any mood to be reasoned with.
Sadie walked away and took up a cloth bag of sewing things from the trunk. With her back to Ella she sat down and began to darn her old shawl. She liked the texture of the wool, the oil of the sheep’s fleece under her fingers. She wove the wool over and under, thinking of the green fells of Westmorland dotted with sheep. When this cold snap was over it would be lambing time, and the wethers would be growing fat.
A sharp knock at the door. Sadie gently put down her darning and backed away from the door towards the wall.
‘You expecting anyone?’ Ella said in a low voice.
Sadie shook her head emphatically.
‘Who’s there?’ called Ella, her ear close to the door.
‘Missus Tardy from over the way. Thought I’d best let you know, a gent was a-hanging round your front door today. He asked after you. Asked after a bonny girl, and a lass with a patch on her face.’
‘Who?’ Ella shouted.
‘Open up and I’ll tell you.’
Ella slid back the bolts and opened the door a crack. Mrs Tardy wedged her way in. She was a broad-beamed woman with a bare-bottomed toddler slung on her hip. Ella looked out through the door, then bolted her in.
‘Tried to prise the door open. At least, he was till I came along, then he looked right guilty,’ said Mrs Tardy, staring shamelessly round the room.
‘What did he look like?’ Sadie came out from the darkness.
Mrs Tardy walked round the room, taking everything in. Sadie saw her pause and look with interest at the trunk by the window, before turning back to answer. ‘Bit of a paunch. Solid-looking.’
‘What else?’
‘I don’t know – I only spoke with him a moment and our Jack was crying. ’Bout forty I should think, dark eyebrows. Shiny riding boots. Kept asking after you, asked if you’d been here long, who the landlord was, whether you paid cash.’
The two girls looked at each other.
‘When was this?’ Ella asked.
‘’Bout an hour ago, I’d say.’
Ella thanked her and pointedly shut the li
d of the trunk. There were some silver-backed hairbrushes, the mother-of-pearl fan and a polished mahogany card box visible. Ella thanked her again and took hold of Mrs Tardy’s elbow to steer her back to the front door. Mrs Tardy sniffed, she was clearly reluctant to leave, but Ella hustled her out, slamming the bolt after her.
Sadie fixed her eyes on the bolted door. It might be Da, she thought. He’s missed me after all. Maybe it’s my da come to fetch me home. And she was in one breath both overjoyed at the thought of going home to the wide open air of Westmorland, and terrified of her father’s belt. She licked her lips, her mouth was dry. She slid her palm over the small of her back where the bruises used to be.
‘D’you think it’s Da?’ she asked.
Ella took hold of her and shook her, reading her face. ‘Listen here. It’s not Da. More likely the law.’
‘It could be. He could have come looking for us.’
‘Don’t hoodwink yourself. He never gave a cat’s whisker for either of us, unless we could get him the price of a draught.’
Sadie put her knuckles to her mouth, blinked back tears.
‘Don’t greet. You know it’s true. He’d shop us if he thought he could get summat out of it. Don’t be fooling yerself he’s any love left in him. If he ever came near us it would be that he’s after.’ Ella pointed at the trunk. ‘He could buy a few jugs with that.’
Sadie looked over at the trunk. The pigskin was worn, but it was still a substantial thing. In the old year it had been full to bursting, but they had spent so much, sold everything for the next three months’ rent, and there was not so much left inside it now, just a few bits and bobs Ella said she was keeping back for a rainy day. The expression had made Sadie laugh, seeing as in London it seemed to never stop raining. Now Ella hurried over to the trunk and threw back the lid.
‘Get your things together. We’re moving on.’
‘What?’
‘I’ve decided. We’re leaving.’
‘Just like that? You can’t—’
‘We’ve got to leave. Missus Tardy’s got a mouth on her like an ox. She won’t stop bellowing when she’s had a few.’
‘But we’ve paid rent up front.’
Ella shrugged. ‘Can’t be helped. ’Tain’t safe to stay.’
‘But I don’t want to leave, Ella. I only just got used to it. And where will we go?’
‘We’ll find something. But if we stay here and Missus Tardy blabs on about our trunk, the game will be up. We’ll have half of Westmorland after us for all we’ve thieved. It’ll be the clappers for us, no question.’
‘I’m not going. I hate London. But I feel safe in here. I can shut the door on it all.’ Sadie’s voice began to waver. ‘This is my home now, and I’m not shifting.’
‘D’you want us to end up behind bars?’ Ella slapped her hard across the arm. ‘Or would you rather hear your neck snap? ’Cos that’s worse lodgings than any I could take you to. Gather your things. I’ll go without you, else, and take the trunk with me, and then you’d have naught, except what coppers you can squeeze out of Feverface.’
Sadie chafed her arm to rub away the red marks of Ella’s fingers, watching silently as Ella began to scrape together their possessions: the cooking pots, the wooden bowls, the tallow candles, the small sack of oatmeal. Ella dumped what she could into a bucket. Her face was sour as she bundled together the scraps of bedding from upstairs and thrust them into Sadie’s arms.
‘Hurry up,’ she said.
Sadie pushed the things down into the top of the trunk, hardly able to see through her tears. Suddenly, the measly little room appeared to be familiar and comfortable, the crumbling walls homely and welcoming.
Both girls packed without looking at each other, because they knew that to do so would crack them both open. As Sadie shut the lid of the trunk, there was a hammering at the door. They startled, like rabbits.
Ella said, ‘God alive, they’re here already. Quick – out the back window.’
Sadie grabbed the bucket.
‘No, leave that. The trunk.’ Between them they lugged the trunk over towards the opening.
‘Open this door!’
Sadie froze.
Ella paused mid-movement. ‘God help us, it’s the law.’
Sadie’s knees turned to water.
‘Push!’ Ella said urgently, seeing Sadie weakening. They heaved the trunk up to the window. The thumping on the door grew louder.
The window opening was too narrow for the trunk – no matter which way they turned it, it would not fit through. They wrested it this way and that, in mounting panic.
‘Open up. I just want to parley a while.’ The voice had become more pleasant, the hammering less insistent.
‘There’s something familiar about that voice,’ Ella whispered, ‘but I can’t place it. Quick, try pushing it this way.’
‘Maybe we should just open the door, see who’s—’
‘Enough! If you do not open up, I will break the lock.’
Fear made Sadie lurch into action, clambering onto the trunk and hoisting herself through the narrow opening. ‘We’ll have to leave it,’ she shouted, ‘just pass the best things through.’ She took the skin off her elbows as she went and landed heavily in the mud on the other side.
Ella hesitated. Sadie hopped from foot to foot. ‘Please, Ella. It’s the only way. It’s too big. We’ll never get it through.’
A fistful of spoons flew through the open window. Sadie tried to catch the objects before they hit the ground, but they shot out too fast for her to keep up with and she had to rake them up out of the dirt. She scraped them into a bundle with a blanket and twisted the smaller things into the folds of her apron.
A thud. The noise of heavy grunts interspersed with battering and splintering wood.
‘Quick! He’s breaking the door down.’
‘Hang on whilst I get the good blanket.’
‘No, you’ve no time,’ sobbed Sadie, ‘and we can’t carry them all. Here – take my hand,’ and she reached for Ella’s wrist to pull her through the window opening.
But she had to pull her hand away as Ella tumbled out onto the ground in a pother of skirts and bedding, just as they heard the crash of the door giving way. They scrabbled like dogs in the mud, bagging together as much as they could carry in their shawls and aprons. Ella swooped down, anxious not to leave the broken string of pearls, the punch ladle and the few silver spoons glinting in the darkness.
‘Stop!’ A head appeared out of the window and Sadie caught a glimpse of angry bloodshot eyes and a tidemark of stubble, before she legged it as fast as she could manage down the filthy back alley, past the brewery and towards Thames Street and the river.
It was a moment before she realized her sister was not with her. She stumbled to a stop then doubled back to see the silhouette of Ella standing stock-still in the middle of the alley, staring at the window.
‘Ella,’ she shouted.
She saw Ella tiptoe towards the dark square of the window, and look in. A moment later she tottered backwards, her free hand over her chest. Why was Ella not coming? Something was the matter, she had to go back.
‘What is it?’ Sadie said, arriving breathless at Ella’s side.
‘It’s Thomas,’ Ella whispered. Her face was pinched, her eyes unfocused. Her hands fluttered at her throat. ‘Sadie, he’s not dead after all, he’s come to find me.’ She let out a huge sob and pulled away to go back to the house.
Sadie held tight on to her arm, restraining her. ‘What are you talking about? Who is it?’
‘It’s not the law, it’s my Thomas. Leave go!’ She jerked her arm away.
A black shape hurtled round the corner and stopped right in front of them. He was a thick-set man in a heavy dark coat and narrow-brimmed hat. He paused, panting slightly, and his breath hung on the air as he looked from one to the other.
Ella dropped her blanket and the contents spilled back into the mud. She took a faltering step towards him, her hands outstretche
d. Sadie made a grab for her arm, but she was too late, she jerked away.
‘Thomas?’ Ella said, looking up at him, but then her hands stilled. They stared at each other for a beat, before Ella’s hands went up to her mouth and she backed off, slowly at first, her eyes glued to his face.
‘Which of you is Ella Appleby?’
‘Run!’ Ella snatched at Sadie’s arm.
The man lurched forwards, swiping out towards them. For an instant Sadie felt his fingers catch on her sleeve, but she twisted away and sprinted after Ella for all she was worth.
‘It’s not him,’ panted Ella, ‘it’s not Thomas.’
She looked back over her shoulder and saw him run out of the end of the alley and his change of gait as he spotted them. ‘Hey,’ he yelled, ‘stop them.’ But there was nobody nearby to hear.
They sprinted down the ginnel. Sadie clutched one hand to her apron, the blanket bundle banged against her back. The man laboured after them, his riding boots thudding loud in their ears as they fled.
With a supreme effort they reached the end of the street and threw themselves around the corner into the hubbub of Paul’s Wharf. There were lanterns there hung by the taverns and crowds of tradesmen loading crates and chattels onto barges, and women carrying their wares on their heads. They elbowed their way between them to lose themselves in the crowd. But when Sadie looked back she could see his dark hat bobbing amongst the women’s baskets and trays.
‘In here,’ she gasped. They dodged into the open doorway of a ropery. Breathless, they squeezed behind a stack of colossal wooden bobbins.
Sadie’s heart was beating wildly in her chest like the baby bird she had once rescued from a cat. She heard Ella’s breath, shallow and fast. She was horrified to see her sister trembling. They cowered, pressed back against the wall, not daring to move, for the torchlights cast huge flickering shadows on the walls. In the ropery they could hear the clunk of the winding machines and the chatter of the women at work, and, once, a man’s voice. They shrank back then, thinking it might be him.
The Gilded Lily Page 10