Merriment flushed. How could such a little girl generate so much turbulence?
‘If someone makes a query, then you can inform them—’
‘Actually,’ Solomon interrupted, ‘it does make sense. I’ve been staying at the Cock and Hen over by Cooke Street, and this is a prime location.’
‘There, see?’ Janey Mack was satisfied.
‘And there’s a printers nearby,’ Solomon nodded at the window.
‘And the Italian Opera House,’ Janey Mack pointed out. ‘And if ever you get sick, sure Merriment will fix ya.’
Merriment held her breath. Could Janey Mack close the deal?
‘How much is the rent?’ Solomon asked.
Janey Mack shook her head and fixed her big eyes on Merriment’s face, wondering what to answer.
‘Three and six,’ Merriment said calmly, hoping he wouldn’t be put off by the price.
‘That includes a chop for supper,’ Janey Mack blurted, ‘and a warm fire and good company should you choose it.’
Solomon smiled, a dimple popping in his right cheek. He turned to Merriment.
‘You have to commend her eagerness.’
Merriment thought he was backing out.
‘She’s a great girl,’ she said.
‘You’re a bit of a whirlwind, Janey, aren’t you?’ Solomon said. ‘Things happen about you.’
Janey Mack nodded solemnly. ‘Hoppy John says I’m cursed.’
Merriment came round the counter and tapped the little girl’s shoulder protectively.
‘I’ll sort Hoppy John out, you don’t mind him.’
‘Are you taking the room?’ Janey Mack had refuelled.
‘I’ve a few things to do.’
Merriment supposed he was looking for a polite way to decline. Then he grabbed his large bag and jovially asked if he could see the room.
‘Course ye can.’ Janey Mack almost ran to the green door and with her good hand tried to turn the large handle. It slipped.
‘Allow me.’ Merriment opened the door and Janey Mack was gone. She wanted to see upstairs.
The stairwell was narrow and twisting. The papered walls bore a pattern of an intricate web of green ivy tendrils wrapped around brown birdcages containing little yellow canaries. There was an arched window on the first landing. Janey Mack glanced out it, looking through the small squares of hand-blown glass down into the street below. The horses clopped past, wobbled and distorted, the ladies and men swelled up and shrank as they passed beneath. Solomon Fish followed, his large bag brushing against the dark banisters. Merriment was last, wondering how her whole day was being tugged along by an eight-year-old little girl with a contagious personality.
The upper landing was painted bright grey. Janey Mack stood perplexed in the middle of the landing, her bare feet softly cushioned by an embroidered peacock. She looked at the three white doors, one on the right, one on the left, one straight ahead, then back at Merriment. Solomon Fish stood behind her.
‘Well?’ he said. ‘Lead on, Macduff.’
Merriment pointed to the right and Janey Mack rushed forward, her bandaged hand held level with her lower ribs.
‘Here we are.’ She plunged into the brightly painted room, her mouth forming an approving ‘O’.
The room was high ceilinged, painted a mellow green. The bed had a dark headboard carved with egg-and-dart moulding and covered with an exotic throw that Merriment had picked up in India. There was a large, long window overlooking the street below, the mullions and shutters painted white. The fireplace was black and narrow, the floor bare and cleanly swept, and beside a washstand that held an ornate pink basin and matching jug was a huge chest with gold initials carved into the top.
‘Isn’t this lovely?’ Janey Mack beamed, her huge eyes swivelling around the room, taking all the details in. ‘Full of space and clean as a whistle, and the bed is lovely.’
Merriment leaned against the door frame, her arms folded, enjoying watching Janey Mack explore. Solomon Fish paced the room, looking where Janey Mack pointed. He nodded, agreeing with everything the little girl said. He tapped the edge of the bed head, his ink-stained cuffs gliding over the scallop shell motif carved into the dark wood. His eyes quickly inspected the bedcover, the gold lettering embossed on the sea chest, the washstand. There was something so fleeting and quick about his glance that made Merriment uncertain.
You’re not going to take it, she thought.
‘This is a chest.’ Janey Mack lifted the lid because she wanted to see inside; maybe there was treasure there. ‘It’s empty,’ she said quietly. ‘You can put yer stuff in here.’ She walked to the fireplace. ‘And there’s tiles in there on the edges.’ She pointed at the small line of decorative tiles surrounding the inner segment of the cast-iron fireplace.
‘Very nice,’ Solomon agreed. He looked over at Merriment, his eyes glowing with warm amusement. ‘Very nice indeed.’
He followed Janey Mack to the window. The little girl was on her tippy-toes, her face pressed to the glass as she craned her head to see over the wall into the Christchurch market.
‘Here,’ she called Solomon. ‘Ye can see the tip of the devil’s horns over there.’
Solomon shoved in behind her.
‘See?’ Janey Mack’s nose pointed. ‘Over the wall, them’s the horns of Lucifer looking down on everyone. That’s the statue.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Solomon lied. He turned to Merriment and shook his head. She liked the way he included her in his jokes.
Pity, she thought, convinced he was going to shrug and say ‘unfortunately it’s not suitable’. He would have been very nice to have about the place. She stood up tall and straight, preparing for the expected rejection, when he surprised her by moving to the centre of the room.
‘Well, this is very good,’ he said, tapping the side of his blond head. ‘Very good indeed. I’ll take it.’
Merriment’s brows shot up a fraction. She quickly disguised her surprise, collected herself and nodded. Maybe he always spoke in earnest? Maybe his charm wasn’t invented but real? Maybe he was genuinely interested in everything, in Janey Mack, in the room, in sharing a joke with her?
When Merriment smiled, Solomon noticed the gap between her two front teeth. He wondered how old she was. Janey Mack came up behind him and smacked his lower back, delighted.
‘There’s a deposit,’ she said and Merriment wanted to pick the little girl up and swing her. Solomon’s laugh was quick and short and stayed in his eyes.
‘Is there, by God?’ He looked at Merriment. ‘You’ve trained her well.’
‘She was born with those wits,’ Merriment said, feeling her face colour a little.
‘And what’s the deposit?’
‘Three shillings and six pence,’ Janey Mack said, walking to stand by Merriment.
‘And you won’t let me out of here unless I cough up. Is that it?’ Solomon asked, pointing out the fact that they were blocking the door. ‘Now, come here.’ Solomon crooked his finger calling Janey Mack over. ‘Come on, you’re the landlady’s agent, here you are, my full week’s deposit.’
Janey Mack watched Solomon slowly count out the money, her eyes firmly focused on each cold coin that he placed into the palm of her little white hand.
‘There now,’ Solomon said. ‘I believe you’ve wiped me clean.’
‘How will you get your licence?’ Janey Mack frowned, genuinely concerned.
‘Well, all right, I’ve a little more money.’
‘Very good.’ Janey Mack closed her fingers around the coins. ‘I wouldn’t want to fleece ye.’
She proudly passed the coins to Merriment. ‘What time will ye be back at, Mister Fish?’
‘Please, call me Sol. It’ll be late. I’ve to move the rest of my stuff from the Cock and Hen. I’ve to get a licence. Interview one of the guards at the Black Dog.’
‘So I’ll hold off putting on a bit of supper for ye. But the fire will be lit, the room will be cosy.’
‘Sounds good
.’ Solomon tugged on the edges of his jacket. ‘I’ll leave my bag here, if you don’t mind?’
Then he looked directly at Merriment and she knew he wanted to say something for her ears only.
‘Right.’ Solomon nodded. ‘I’ll head so.’
Janey Mack led the way downstairs, pausing to look at the yellow birds trapped in cages climbing up the wall. Merriment stopped Solomon on the top landing, her fingers lightly touching his elbow. She moved towards him asking quietly, ‘Was there something bothering you?’
His eyes filled with a conspiratorial glint as he paused and checked below, watching the back of Janey Mack’s head as she disappeared down into the shop.
‘I might not be staying long. A month maybe. Depends on how the stall goes, if you don’t mind a short-term lease.’
For some reason, Merriment couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. She masked the emotion and shrugged her shoulders, smiling.
‘Some rent is better than no rent,’ she told him.
‘Good.’
Solomon paced down the stairs and Merriment followed him, finding his light step and sweeping energy highly infectious.
It’ll be nice, even for a short while, to have the company of a man again, she thought.
They caught Janey Mack opening a glass case and pulling out a silver pillbox to admire. She dropped the box and slammed the case shut.
‘You off so?’ she enquired.
‘I feel light as a feather not having to haul that bag around with me. Well, it was good doing business with you, madam.’ Solomon strode forward and shook Janey Mack’s hand. Merriment watched them, bathed in warm sunshine, the worn seams of Solomon’s jacket shiny across his slender back. He wasn’t that tall, maybe five ten, but standing next to the little girl, he looked large and benevolent and mischievously provoking.
‘Right then.’ Solomon tipped a little bow. ‘I’ll see you later.’
‘Bye.’ Merriment bowed back and Janey Mack waved.
‘See you, Sol.’
He opened the door onto Fishamble Street, a flurry of notes announcing his exit, and he strode off in the direction of the civic offices. He seemed to take the sunshine with him and Merriment folded her arms, curiously intrigued by her new tenant. Janey Mack bit her lower lip, proud of her morning’s work, and cocked her head at the freshly closed door.
‘He’s on the run,’ she announced, making Merriment stop in her tracks. ‘Handsome though, isn’t he? Would you kiss him?’
Merriment rested one hand on the counter and the other on her hip, wondering what she’d missed.
‘What do you mean he’s on the run?’
‘I think it was the way he reacted when I asked him about the law. And he travels light, which is a dead giveaway. He likes cards.’
‘Go on, I’m intrigued. How did you pick that up?’
Janey Mack shrugged. ‘Bit of a hungry look in his eyes, you know. He liked your breeches.’
‘Is that so?’ Merriment smoothed her palm over the crown of her head, patting down her thick hair. ‘I’ll tell you this much, Janey,’ she said. ‘You’ve excellent observation skills. Now I just have to work on the conclusion you come to once you’ve garnered the facts. You’ve the makings of a decent apothecary in you.’
‘Do you think so, miss?’
‘I do. Come on, I’ve to check the distillation.’ Merriment waved Janey Mack into the anteroom, glancing a moment at the door Solomon had left through. Had he charmed her? Had his bright smile and easy manner with a poor child dazzled her? Had she missed something that Janey Mack had picked up? Hoping that this handsome lodger wouldn’t bring too many problems into her life, Merriment looked at the empty shop, worried by the echoey silence. Would business ever improve?
She drew in a deep breath, brushed her cares away and stepped into the dark anteroom only to find Janey Mack standing on a chair she’d moved and stirring the green liquid over the fire.
4
The Bargain
Solomon Fish took his time strolling through Christchurch market, sussing out the best place for a stall. The market was hopping. Hawkers selling everything from buttermilk to children’s toys bellowed and called and cajoled the passers-by. He saw the huge statue of Lucifer painted jet black and malevolently cloaked and he suppressed a self-deprecatory smile. That’s the spot, he thought, staring directly at the feet of the devil. Where better to set up shop selling tawdry stories? The passing throng intrigued him. Dublin hadn’t the population of London, but it looked prosperous; at least there was enough coin exchanging hands for him to experience a flash of hope. Maybe it was a new beginning? He remembered his quick exit from London, the hurried dash as he packed his bags and flung himself onto a clipper bound for Ireland, leaving Stanley Jordon and the notorious Black Pit gang behind him. Out of habit, Solomon scanned the crowd looking for one of Stanley’s lackeys. Anyone skulking was not glaring directly at him. Solomon blew a quick snort of relief. It’d been nearly ten years since he had left Dublin.
‘Here, young fella.’ A large woman with huge wobbling breasts reddened by the cool autumn breeze waved him to her stall. Solomon obligingly stepped towards her.
‘Ye look lost and forlorn there, handsome. Here ye are, have a pie on me.’
She handed Solomon a pea-and-potato pie and patted the stool beside her.
‘The cost of that is for you to sit your tidy arse down on this and tell me yer name and let me admire yer handsome face.’
‘You’re very expensive,’ Solomon grinned.
‘Cheeky monkey.’ The fat lady adjusted her bonnet and introduced herself, ‘The name’s Gloria.’
‘Solomon.’
‘Aren’t ye a beauty, Solomon? Are ye married?’
‘Are you asking?’
‘Jaysus, I wouldn’t kick ye out of bed on a cold morning.’
Solomon sat down, taking a big deep bite of the pie, suddenly realising he was starving.
‘By God,’ he said, ‘you make great pies, Gloria.’
‘Don’t I?’
Gloria shouted out to the passing foot traffic. ‘Hot pies, hot pies, tasty hot pies, a ha’penny a piece. Get yer hot pies here.’ Then turning her plump face to Solomon, her blue eyes glittering with unbridled good humour, she asked, ‘What’s troublin’ ye?’
Solomon leaned back and laughed.
‘I don’t know, Mammy, the wind’s too cold, the sky’s too blue, there’s a lot wrong with the world.’
‘Mammy!’ Swiftly Gloria’s hands scooped under her huge bosom before moving quickly to tap the brown curls bursting out wildly beneath her white cap. ‘Sure there’s hardly three years between us.’ Then just as quickly as she’d invited Solomon to sit down, she dropped her jovial expression, her sunny face filling with unguarded concern.
‘Thought ye looked like ye were plotting something. Ye were givin’ the devil a good once-over. In my experience lads that stare at the devil tend to be filled with some kind of guilt. Guilt for what they’ve done or guilt for what they’re about to do.’
Solomon kept eating. A handsome young girl with red hair came to look at Gloria’s pies.
‘How much are these?’ she asked, looking directly at Solomon.
‘They’re two pence, love, got meat in them,’ Gloria answered.
The girl looked quickly at Gloria but told Solomon she’d take one. She fiddled with her purse, her fingers burnt red raw from her work as a laundry girl. She handed Gloria the money and Gloria handed her the pie on a square of brown paper. When the girl left she glanced back at Solomon, her green shawl tugged tight at her waist, her long skirts blown for a moment against her body, outlining her legs.
‘Who’s the market manager here?’ Solomon asked.
‘Market manager.’ Three more customers bought pies. ‘That’d be Jody Maguire.’ Gloria didn’t ask but Solomon told her anyway.
‘I want that to be my spot.’ He indicated to the butt of the black statue, delighted there was a space directly in front of the de
vil.
‘Well now, isn’t life looking up.’ Gloria whistled. ‘I’ll get to look across at yer handsome face every day. Jody’s an ol’ bollix though.’
Solomon swivelled on his stool, turning all his attention onto Gloria.
‘Ye have to have yer paperwork in order,’ she warned him. ‘He’ll try and shaft ye. Don’t pay more than four and six a week for yer patch. He’ll start the bid at five two. What you do there is laugh, and when he glares at ye, don’t flinch. The man robbed his mother’s own funeral money.’
Then Gloria leaned back, a look of mock horror washing over her apple dumpling face.
‘Ye better not be selling pies, Solomon. Don’t break me heart now and we only after meeting.’
‘Would I do that to you, Gloria?’
‘Begod, I don’t know, but sure with those thighs I’d probably forgive ye.’
Solomon laughed his short laugh. ‘Gloria, don’t make me fall in love with you now. I’m only after landing in Dublin. I can’t be having my heart broken.’
‘But sure I’d mind ye, Solomon. I’d put yer head right here’ – she pointed at her cleavage – ‘and I’d rock ye for a bit o’ comfort.’
‘You’re an awful woman.’
‘That’s why I’m in Hell, Solomon. That’s why I’m in Hell.’
Gloria laughed a loud, raucous laugh and slapped Solomon’s thigh hard. She sold four more pies and pointed to a stout man with a face like a shovel dressed in a dark russet coat and swinging a walking stick ready to use it like a cudgel should he need to.
‘See that lump of lard over there?’
Solomon nodded.
‘That’s Jody. Have ye yer licence yet?’
‘I was on my way to get it before you decided to use me as bait to get more business.’
‘Don’t know what yer talking about.’ Gloria’s fair eyebrows shot up. ‘Mind you, most of my customers do seem to be pretty young maids this morning.’ Gloria winked.
‘The offices are that way, aren’t they?’ Solomon stood up, brushing away the flaky crumbs stuck to his breeches.
‘I could watch you doing that all day,’ Gloria chuckled. ‘Here.’ She stuffed another pie into his hand; this one had slivers of meat in it. ‘That’ll keep ye going until supper.’
The Dolocher Page 5