They must have waited there almost one hour of the clock before daring to emerge onto the street. Sadie was on tenterhooks, looking around her, thinking to see the man’s face loom up everywhere she looked.
‘What does he want, Ell?’
‘He wants his brother’s chattels back, I should think, and to see me in gaol. Or worse. They say it’s treason, stealing from your master.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘The penalty’s death by burning.’
Sadie stopped dead.
Ella carried on talking even though Sadie had stopped responding. ‘I thought it was my Thomas, but when he got closer I could see it wasn’t. It must be his brother, Titus. He said they were twins, but I’ve never seen twins before. I never ever thought they’d look that close . . .’
Sadie was panicked now. ‘Let’s try to find somewhere to lodge, Ella, get inside. I’m scared out here. I keep thinking he’ll see us.’
Ella was not listening. ‘He’s the very spit of Thomas. Just sharper round the eyes, and his face is thinner . . .’
Sadie put her hand on her arm. ‘We’ll go eastwards, to where Corey lives – she says it’s cheaper rents there, and there’s plenty lodgings near the bridge with rooms to let. Come on, hurry, it’s near six o’clock, and we’ll need a bed afore long.’
‘I can’t get over it. They’re like peas in a pod. He’s not as broad as my Thomas. Thomas loves his food . . .’ Ella’s voice trailed away. Sadie heard her sniff, but she walked on quickly, pulling on Ella’s arm, her eyes darting here and there in case the man in the boots should suddenly appear. They walked heads down, shawls pulled over their caps. Sadie cradled her full apron with one hand, the other held tight to the bundle. They saw neither hide nor hair of Titus Ibbetson, but his presence seemed to dog their steps. Ella was empty-handed, morose and silent.
Sadie stopped and rested the bundle on the ground a moment. Her arms ached.
‘I suppose we could try Blackraven Alley,’ Ella said eventually. ‘Someone at Whitgift’s said there was a room to rent there.’
Sadie nudged her to ask directions from a man with a milk cart and they were pointed down a cramped thoroughfare alongside the river. They looked for a sign with a bed and candle and knocked at the door. A tousle-headed lad with a long nose opened it, and by the light of his lantern she could see he had his shirtsleeves rolled up and no boots on. A bare pink toe poked from a hole in his hose. He seemed to know Ella right enough for he said, ‘Oh, it’s you. You didn’t find anything then?’
‘Not yet. Thought we’d take a look at your room, as we were passing.’
‘Is it for the both of you?’
‘Oh, yes, me and my sister.’
‘Pleased-to-meet-yer.’ He ran all the words together into one long word. ‘Come on up, I’ll show you the room.’ He led the way up the steep staircase and Sadie followed.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked, turning to look at her.
‘Sadie,’ she said, hanging back to keep out of the light.
‘Dennis,’ he said.
He waved his candle lantern round a first-floor room with a tiny cracked stone fireplace, a leaking chimney hole and a creaking platform for a bed. The window jutted out over the river, and the stink of rotting garbage seeped through the sacking nailed over it to keep out the draught.
‘It’s not much, I know,’ he said, ‘but it’s cheap.’
‘How much?’ Sadie asked. She clutched her bulging apron to her stomach, tried to toss her hair forward over her cheek.
‘I can’t live here,’ Ella said, and then to Dennis, ‘It’s not suitable. We’re after something bigger.’
Sadie’s shoulders slumped. She would have been happy to settle anywhere as long as it was out of sight and had a bolt on the door. Ella walked out of the room and clattered down the stairs. Reluctantly Sadie trailed after her back onto the street, where a gang of rowdy boys emerged from an alley, kicking a dog for sport. It was yelping and had an old clog tied onto its tail. Sadie averted her eyes and they tried to walk by.
‘Ooh, ladies. What yer got?’
Ella ignored them and made as if to sidle past.
‘Not so fast, sweetheart, let’s see what’s in your swag.’ The biggest boy jumped out in front of Sadie. He had a broken nose and wore a tattered man’s coat with the cuffs rolled back, his hair grey with dirt. She guessed him to be about thirteen years old. They stepped past him, but immediately they were surrounded by about seven younger boys who appeared from the shadows. Individually, they would not have been any trouble, but as a mass they were intimidating. Sadie began to feel uneasy, her sixth sense telling her they should get away fast. The dog barked and skittered away down the road.
She looked around for a means of escape, but they were hemmed in. Even above, the buildings jutted out, blocking out the moonlight. The doors to the right had red crosses on them, peeling now, but obviously someone there had once had the pox. She shuddered. On the other side was a high wall, the side of the steelworks. No escape there either. The biggest boy had a stick in his hand; he held it out menacingly.
Ella untied her apron and thrust it onto the ground. ‘Here,’ she shouted, ‘there’s bread and cheese here.’ The pack of boys fell onto the apron, fighting to get into the contents. Ella grasped Sadie’s skirt and hauled her back through the door into the hallway they had just left. As she slammed the door behind them she could hear them shouting, ‘It’s empty! There’s nothing in it!’ A clatter, as a rain of stones hit the door.
‘Back so soon?’ Dennis reappeared, a look of amusement on his face. He nodded at the door. ‘Ma won’t be pleased that your friends have been making holes in her door.’
‘They’re not our friends, they set upon us on the street. We’d like to take the room,’ Sadie said, aware that Dennis was staring openly at her.
‘On a temporary let,’ Ella added firmly, ‘till we find something bigger. One week.’
‘Not sure I should let it to people with friends like yours. And I can’t let it for less than a month. Ma won’t like it.’
Ella looked disgruntled. She opened her mouth, about to protest.
‘One month, then,’ Sadie said quickly, and she began to mount the stairs.
‘Wait on! Are you thinking to move in now?’
‘Our landlord died,’ Ella said. ‘They’ve put us out.’
‘What about your things?’
‘We’ll fetch them over later,’ Ella said, picking up the bundle from where Sadie had put it down. Dennis narrowed his eyes and looked to Sadie. She just dropped her head.
‘I’ll not ask,’ he said.
‘We’ll take it tonight, if you don’t mind,’ Sadie said.
‘Fair enough. I’ll tell Ma and I’ll call back tomorrow for the rental,’ Dennis said. ‘Six shilling. Get yourselves a good lock.’
‘Ibbetson – he’s still after us then,’ said Sadie, when the door was shut.
Ella just nodded. There didn’t seem to be anything else to say. She wandered round the room, fingering the old plank table and two odd-sized stools, and running her finger over the shelf in the larder alcove. There was a washstand with the wood all stained and ringed with watermarks, and a chipped jug half floating in a pail of water.
Ella pulled out a stool. ‘Bring your bundle over, let’s see what we’ve got.’
They put down their diminished possessions on the table. It made a sad sight. In Sadie’s salvaged bundle of clothes and bedding, there was one cooking pot, a wooden platter, a silver punch ladle, a hand glass and a ticking pillow. In the apron, the mother-of-pearl fan, some fine lawn and lace napkins that had fallen in the mud, three spoons and two odd candlesticks that did not match.
‘Is that all?’ Ella asked.
Sadie nodded. ‘I dropped the card box and the jug. Sorry.’
‘You got anything else under your bodice?’
‘Course.’
‘Let’s see then.’
Sadie held up her purse an
d tipped out the contents. A few coins rolled onto the pitted wooden surface. From Ella’s, a broken pearl necklace and some lady’s rings fell out amongst the coinage, followed by the seal on its slinking chain. Instantly, Sadie was back in that cold, dark house, looking into the unseeing eyes of the man on the bed.
‘Let’s get rid of that,’ she said, pointing.
‘It’s got his initials on it, look. I’ve a mind to keep it. It’s pretty.’
‘Can’t we get rid of it, Ell? I hate it.’
Ella picked up the rings. ‘We’ll sell these first. We’ll need bowls and a cookpot; we’ll have to get down the fleamarket. Ye gods, I don’t know how we’ll manage till payday.’
‘Dennis seems friendly.’
‘Huh.’ Ella’s tone was scathing. ‘It’s a fleapit, just like I thought.’
‘It’s cheap though, we could do worse. And it’s near to Whitgift’s too.’
‘I suppose.’
The rest of the evening Ella hardly spoke, but spent the time rolling and unrolling her hair, pinning it into elaborate arrangements and holding the hand mirror out at arm’s length. ‘I need some of them new bone curlers. Them ones you heat in the embers,’ she said.
Sadie made up the bed and put out their meagre possessions. She felt safer being upstairs with people beneath. When she had finished she realized she was dog-tired and climbed into bed before Ella, leaving her still tying her hair in rags to coax it into side curls. She slept fitfully. Ella was late to bed and when she did come kept dragging the blanket her way. Besides, Sadie could hear sounds of a woman coughing below.
To her surprise Ella was up early for once instead of dozing and having to be prodded out of bed. When she brought the jug for washing, Ella was struggling again with her hair to secure it in a knot at the back, her mouth full of bone pins. Sadie scrubbed her face and rinsed her mouth. The water was that cold her teeth ached. She watched Ella from the corner of her eye, seeing the frustration etched on her sister’s face as another loop of hair escaped from the heavy mass at the back.
Eventually Ella threw the comb down onto the bed. Sadie didn’t want to be late for work, so she ignored Ella’s huffing and puffing. But when she got home again that night she was surprised to see Ella was still there where she had left her. As soon as she came in through the door Ella wailed, ‘It won’t go right. And he said I’d to have my hair dressed. Properly. Not like our usual topknots and caps. I daren’t go with it all hanging out like this.’
‘Come here, let me see if I can fix it.’
Ella held out the pins on the flat of her hand. Sadie pulled her hair tight and twisted it, then pinned it hard to her scalp.
‘Ouch! You’re hurting.’
‘It’s your hair. It’s too thick. I have to pin it tight or it will be out again in two shakes.’
She skewered some more wisps into the arrangement, leaving a few coils hanging at the sides.
‘There. You’ll pass muster,’ Sadie said.
Ella picked up the glass and scrutinized her reflection. ‘It’s crooked.’
‘No it’s not, you can’t see it properly in that glass. Don’t worry, I’ll tidy it again tomorrow, give it a last lick and polish before you go.’
‘Wish I had a scrap of red riband to put in it.’
Sadie admired her handiwork from the back. It was fetching, even if she did say so herself.
The next morning when Ella was ready, Sadie stood with her by the door.
‘You look lovely, Ella. It suits you. You look important, like you really are someone, not just our Ella from Netherbarrow.’
Ella frowned and grasped hold of her wrist. ‘Look, I’ve never heard of Netherbarrow. No one must know where we’re from. We’re Londoners now, get it?’
Sadie nodded.
Ella released her arm. ‘And I’m already someone. I’m Miss Corey Johnson, and I’m to serve in Whitgift’s.’
‘What?’ Sadie stared, uncomprehending. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m calling myself Miss Johnson.’
‘You changed your name to Corey’s?’
‘It’s safer that way. They asked me at Whitgift’s and I had to say something.’
‘But that’s daft. To call yourself by someone else’s name. What if Corey finds out?’
‘How will she? Unless you tell her? I’m not going back to that poxy wig shop.’
‘It’s still stupid. I can’t call you that. Why did you call yourself that? Why not Peggy, or Susan or—’
‘It was all I could think of in a hurry. And ’tis done now, so I’m stuck with it.’ Ella pulled her cloak tight about her as if to shut Sadie out.
‘Well, I’m not calling you that,’ Sadie said.
‘You can call me anything you like in here, but to everyone else I’m Miss Johnson – see?’
Sadie fiddled with the few remaining pins in her fingers. It felt strange, her sister having a different name. It bothered her.
‘And I like it. It feels like a new beginning,’ Ella went on. ‘I’ll make a success of Whitgift’s, I just know it. We’ll dine off oysters and cream pie yet. How will you like that, eh? I promised you silken sheets one day, and you’re going to get them. And you know I always keep my promises.’ She clattered downstairs.
Sadie was sceptical. But Ella had a way of convincing you, she thought. The stories she told you. From Ella’s descriptions the silken sheets were almost tangible, their softness and scent. In some ways these imaginary sheets, steeped in lavender, light as clouds, seemed more real than the rough wool blankets they wound round themselves at night. For the sheets in their imaginations never wore out, always billowed fresh and new.
Chapter 11
In his room under the rafters, Jay went to his cabinet and unlocked the top drawer. Each drawer contained one of his collections. The bottom one housed a fine array of gold pocket watches; another drawer held a row of necklaces set with drop-pearls and diamonds, the next lady’s daggers with ornamental handles. Others held bejewelled cloak pins, sets of gold buttons, cameos. This evening he took out his collection of snuffboxes and started to polish them to a gleam with a lint cloth. He bent to the task, his shoulders hunched, an action he had done so often it had left him with a slight stoop even when he stood up. This room held his baronetcy. These days a baronetcy could be bought – for a little over a thousand pounds. Every snuffbox was a bootstrap nearer to a title. He knew every single one, how much it was worth down to the last token, and he loved to feel the solidity of it, his wealth growing plump under his fingers.
He held one of the snuffboxes up to the pale light of the window. The box was engraved with cherubs and garlands, the metal moulded to make them stand proud of the polished surface. An exquisite piece of workmanship made by a craftsman long dead and buried, he had seen nothing so well wrought since. He brought it close to his face and smoothed his fingers over the surface. If only every beauty could be tamed, fixed in place like this – so that he could keep it locked in his cabinet until he had need of it.
At the strike of his timepiece he stood and walked over to the window. It was just growing dark, but he did not light the candles. Instead, he took out his brass telescope, swung the window ajar and pushed the instrument out. The familiar landmarks were brought close in mesmerizing detail. The spire of St Mary-by-the-Field, the barges on the bend of the Thames, the carriages of fashionable merchants. Through his spyglass, all of London was brought into his domain. He scanned up and down, looking for something.
Just coming around the corner into Friargate, completely unaware that they could be seen, were two familiar figures – Stevyn Lutch and Foxy Foxall, pushing a trundle cart. Or rather Lutch was pushing, and even from here Jay could see that Foxy was talking. He bent towards Lutch’s ear as he walked, and gesticulated, waving his wiry arms in front of Lutch’s face. Lutch replied with an occasional nod, and kept pushing. The cart jolted on the cobbles and almost toppled its load. The load was dressed to look like a pile of old blankets, but Jay hop
ed that what lay underneath might be a great deal prettier, given that he himself had given them precise instructions as to what to filch.
He closed the spyglass, folding it into itself and slipping it into its leather pouch. Now he lit the candles, preparing to let the men in. He hoped they had earned their wages this time. Recently they had seemed surly and reluctant, and the pickings had been miserable. Jay suspected they might be in the pay of someone else as well as himself. Well, it was to be hoped whoever it was knew what he was about. Lutch and Foxall were well-known hard cases. They only had to blow on a postern or a back door and it would open. They would crack your skull if you crossed them, and the blow would be silent and come from nowhere with no time to scream. When men like Allsop could not repay their loans, then Jay sent Lutch. When a gentleman asked him to supply a whore, then Foxy knew where to find one.
But Jay knew he needed to be on his mettle to deal with them, to be one step ahead. Foxy was a blabbermouth, and Jay was wary of Lutch, the dispatcher, whose face betrayed no emotion except mildness, but whose hands were muscular and pitted with knife scars. And his pa was right – belt and braces, always have more than one iron in the fire. And whatever you might do, never turn your back on them.
Outside, the dogs snarled and barked on the ends of their leashes and he heard the nightwatchman swear at them and open the gate. Jay went downstairs and swung the door open, just as Foxy had lifted his fist to knock.
‘What did I say?’ Jay said. ‘No knocking. I don’t want Pa woken.’
‘Sorry. I think he’s awake, though, I saw—’
‘Never mind what you saw, just remember, that’s all. Lutch, fetch it up to my chambers.’
Lutch carried the bundle up the winding stairs.
‘Anything rare?’ Jay said, hovering at Lutch’s shoulder.
‘Bits and bobs,’ Foxy said. ‘That big house – the one on Whitehall – that one was a proper sugarplum. Like you said, there was not a soul home, not even a kitchen wench. So we was straight in, easy,’ Foxy said, ‘and there was everything laid out for us. We only had to bag it and go.’
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