The Strange Adventures of H

by Sarah Burton

  “Ah, Dollie! I say, you do look a treat,” he said.

  “I shouldn’t mind doing a double with your Godfrey,” whispered Janey (as far as Janey was capable of whispering; it was in truth more of a husky shout), which immediately revived all my queasiness on the subject.

  Then Mother came in and made the girls bustle about tidying the saloon, for it was here Godfrey and I were to entertain, and then shooed them out.

  “Now my dears,” she said, “your guests are here…”

  Guests? I wondered. I had been under the impression there would be just the one gentleman.

  Mother dropped her voice, “They are paying very well so do not disappoint. I’ll send in some wine and then you’ll be on your own.” She bustled to the door, where she turned and added, “Oh, and they like to watch.” With a wink she was gone.

  I was still taking this in when she showed in a fine-looking gentleman and an equally fine-looking lady and for a moment I considered there must have been a mistake and these people had perhaps come to the wrong house. The gentleman introduced himself and his wife as Mr and Mrs Smith, and Godfrey introduced us as ourselves, as I seemed to have lost the power of speech momentarily, then Mother Cresswell poured us all wine and left us to it.

  It was not, you will understand, that I minded another woman being part of our entertainment, for various combinations of the girls often worked together when occasion warranted, but that the focus of attention was evidently to be on Godfrey and myself. I took a great draught of wine and Godfrey immediately filled my glass again. Mr and Mrs Smith settled themselves on one of the couches and Mr Smith said, “Please, begin when you are ready,” and they sat there expectantly.

  Godfrey put out some candles and moved others so that a soft light illuminated one side of the room, while the other, where the couple waited, was in almost darkness, and I took the opportunity of a lull in proceedings to sink another glass of wine. Moving swiftly, he adjusted the position of the other couch and rearranged the cushions. There was a screen in the corner of the room which he also moved, considered, and moved again, and I realised that, playing to his theatrical strength, he was creating a stage, and that we were to be players upon it.

  Then Godfrey beckoned to me and took me behind the screen and whispered, “I will lead the way, all you need to do is follow. But you have to help me.”

  “Of course,” I said, feeling a little more equal to the challenge now the wine was taking hold.

  Godfrey looked as if he expected something to happen and I didn’t know what it was, but felt I was required to do something.

  “Come here,” he said, and slipped his arms round my waist and surprised me by kissing me most tenderly, and then more passionately, and then ran his hands over my breasts, and, then, seeing I still did not understand what was required, took my hand and placed it on his prick. At last I understood. It is not that I was particularly dense in such matters, for now I got along famously, but that my gentlemen usually required little encouragement, and I had, until that point, felt a little reserved because it was Godfrey. Anyhow, when he was ready to go, he led me out from behind the screen and we started all over again, and I began really to enjoy myself, for Godfrey did indeed do all the work and sometimes prompted me with a whisper to do this or that to help matters along.

  The various positions in which we consummated our passion were unusual (though not, on the whole, unknown to me) and largely uncomfortable in themselves. This, Godfrey later explained, was because we were not performing for our own pleasure, but for theirs, and they had to be able to see everything; therefore we had to adopt poses which set off our actions to greater advantage for the spectator. He illustrated this point, by giving the example of how actors often face the audience when they are in fact addressing each other, because what they say is more for the audience’s benefit than the actors’ (who know what they are saying anyway).

  After a short while I became aware of some movement and sound in the darkness, and though I could see into the gloom only indistinctly, realised that Mr and Mrs Smith were about the same business as we were, and yet continued to watch us all the while.

  My gentlemen usually liked me to make a deal of noise to prove how much they were pleasuring me (although Hole-In-The-Sheet insisted on absolute silence) and Godfrey had a repertoire of exclamations, such as, “Oh you gipsy! You witch! You jade!” which certainly added spice and variety, and I may add that when it came to the point where I would act most of all, I did not have to act at all, but cried out in genuine and thrilling ecstasy, which just shows what a pleasure it can be to work with a consummate professional.

  Our guests arrived at the same point only moments after ourselves, and we went behind the screen again and dressed while they did the same. Godfrey planted a great smacker on my lips and said “good work” and I said “you too” and we felt fairly pleased with ourselves, and as with every new thing I did, I felt relief that it would not in future be a problem to me, as I knew now what was expected and found I could work quite happily with Godfrey. It was late by the time our visitors politely took their leave of us and Mother Cresswell came in and said we had done well and they would in all probability be back or she was no judge.

  She paid Godfrey his portion on the spot, and it was indeed a handsome sum, even taking into account her deductions, and then suggested Godfrey stay with us the night as the roads were so clogged up that even a walk of fifteen minutes took an hour and with her habitual delicacy offered him a room that was empty although the bed was not made up. Considering the extent of our intimacy during the evening (and the fact that I was unaccountably weary and could not face fetching sheets and so on) I suggested that Godfrey could sleep with me and he said that would more than suffice if Mother Cresswell would permit this for he should not like to bring dishonour on her house (he was full of nice touches like this which Mother lapped up, as he had a knack of being witty in a way which made the other person feel that they were just as witty by virtue of sharing and understanding the jest), and we bade her goodnight and retired.

  Godfrey undressed down to his shirt and got into bed and then made a great business of not looking as I got undressed which made us both laugh. I, too, got into bed and before I had time to consider how one should comport oneself towards a bedfellow in these circumstances, Godfrey wrapped his arms round me, kissed me on the cheek, wished me goodnight and using my shoulder as a pillow went to sleep almost immediately.

  I do not know if I was asleep or only nearly so, but I suddenly heard Godfrey exclaim “H!”

  “What?” said I, sitting up in a panic, thinking the house was on fire.

  “H! That was it! I was trying to think of the curious name of the little girl at the fair. It was H!”

  I was assailed by most mixed feelings at this.

  “But why H?” he asked. “Doll is short for what? Dorothy? What has H to do with anything?”

  “It’s a long story,” I sighed.

  “But you’ll tell me one day, eh? H?” he persisted.

  “Please don’t call me that,” I said.

  “And you’ll tell me all about what little Joe was to you? And all your history?”

  I didn’t answer. Godfrey sat up and looked at me most thoughtfully and then cupped my face in his hands so I had no choice but to return his earnest gaze.

  “You know we could do very well together. Like this evening. But even in acting there has to be truth. We can be whoever we like to the world, but we would do well to be very true and honest one to another, as we are to ourselves.” He considered me a little longer, then kissed me lightly on the forehead, as one would kiss a child goodnight, and laid us both down and settled to sleep. But I did not sleep for a while, for though it was most comfortable to be in Godfrey’s arms, it was most unpleasing to think of being entirely true and honest to Godfrey and even worse to think of being entirely true and honest to myself.

  37

  The next morning I awoke to find Godfrey beside me alrea
dy awake and reading one of my playbooks. He looked over at me and smiled.

  “Sleep well?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I yawned, “thank you.”

  “Dollie… ” he began, as though he were going to ask something I might not like. “You know what we said last night about always continuing very honest one to another?”

  “Yes,” I said, dreading what he was going to say.

  “Well… ” he said. “Dollie, I have to tell you, dear girl, you ain’t no oil painting in the mornings.”

  I jumped out of bed and snatched up my hand mirror and saw a smudged bleary-eyed visage which looked like my own face if it had been left out in the rain for some time.

  “Well, if truth be told, you ain’t no bowl of fruit yourself!” I retorted, and threw a pillow at him.

  Then I admitted my head ached terribly and we dressed and went down to breakfast. We had no sooner finished than, to our astonishment, Joe was shown into the room.

  “Joe!” said I, standing up and preparing to be very angry.

  But he threw himself on me saying, “I’m sorry to come but you must come! Everyone is being sent out of Cheapside and Auntie won’t leave the house!”

  As it was an emergency Godfrey went to find a coach, and I ran upstairs and slapped on some paint and got my mask, as if I were to go anywhere near Aunt Madge I must be disguised, and snatched up some money from my box. Godfrey’s task was of course fruitless, as there was not a coach to be had in all London over those few days, every wheeled object being in full employment ferrying people and their belongings out of the city; however he had an idea that if we walked to Lincoln’s Inn Fields, where he had his house, we should have better luck, as the Fields were being used as a depository for people’s possessions, which meant that if full vehicles arrived, empty ones must leave, and this proved to be the case.

  When we arrived at the Fields, Godfrey set off to find transport while Joe (and Tobypuss, who was delighted at seeing Joe again and had insisted on accompanying us) and I waited. It was only now that I began to realise the true scale of the calamity. Many hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people were gathered here, wandering about as if in a daze, their furniture lying in piles about them. It struck me that these were mainly persons of quality, most unfit for any kind of hardship, which seemed to make it worse. Because whereas the plague had mainly done its deadly work amongst the poor of the city, the fire was not so nice in its choice of victims, and the fire had moved so swiftly and indiscriminately that the rich had not had any more chance of fleeing than the poor and, of course, had far more to lose. The vast majority of citizens could easily carry their valuables, if they had any, whereas the wealthy were overburdened with property. Never having had to fend for themselves before, they had brought impractical things and left behind those of less value but more use. Though they were surrounded by riches, many had not a blanket to lay over themselves.

  “Going the wrong way, ain’t you?” said the carter, as we hopped up behind him.

  “We’ve got to fetch someone from Cheapside,” said Godfrey, “an old lady.”

  “Well I can’t bring you back,” said the carter. “I’ve got a queue of households waiting for me to bring them out. Gold dust, this cart is,” he said with some satisfaction.

  “I have money,” I said to Godfrey.

  I have never seen the city in more chaos than during the fire. The streets were jammed with carts, coaches and barrows piled high, often too high, so that they spilt over and blocked the way, and worsened the congestion, as well as many people on foot. As we approached St Paul’s we became caught in a jam and decided it would be quicker to walk the rest of the way, so I paid the carter and we jumped down. I asked Godfrey to carry Tobypuss as I was afraid he might get crushed in the traffic, and kept Joe close by my side.

  Although we could not see the fire, we could hear it, see and smell its smoke and feel its heat most wonderfully. As we made our way to my aunt’s house, I began to think how we were going to get her out without betraying my identity. I would have to be Doll, that much was certain, but we would make Godfrey the main player, he being the kind gentleman who had sent Joe home in the first place and to whom Joe had now appealed for help once more. Yes, that made sense.

  I could see as we approached that our aunt’s coach was at the door, which was a blessing, though Reg had his hands full fending off a desperate offer by a gentleman and his family to buy it outright on the spot, and we easily gained admission as the front door was wide open. Most of the furniture seemed to have gone ahead, which made the house seem strange, but there was no time to dwell on my feelings at being back at home now. I tied Tobypuss up in the hall, as his reappearance would only confuse matters, and we followed the sounds of voices to the library on the first floor where Ted was pleading with Aunt Madge, who had evidently been coaxed as far as the doorway, but had now jammed herself to it, her hands clasping the frame either side, her knuckles white. It was shocking to see how she had aged and how small and frail and confused she now seemed.

  I hung back at the top of the staircase and watched as Joe went forward and introduced Godfrey, who he said was a good friend and had come to bring Aunt Madge away. Aunt Madge then said something in a most distressed voice, which I could not hear. Godfrey and Joe coaxed and cajoled but Aunt Madge was absolutely resolved not to budge. I caught her voice as it rose, imploring Ted and the others to go on without her. She would stay and make sure the house was safe. This went on for some time and then a series of explosions frighted us all and shook the house. We then heard a great cry from the street and running footsteps and Reg shouted up the stairs that the east end of Cheapside was alight and we had to leave at once.

  Godfrey and Joe came back to me and Godfrey said, “She won’t move. She insists that the last time she left the house she lost her family and everyone she loved, except for Frederick. Who’s Frederick? No matter now. I think we are going to be obliged to carry her away by force.”

  The mention of Frederick gave me an idea and I sent Joe downstairs and told him what to do. I had heard that when someone is somewhat out of their mind, as it were, a complete change of scene or tone can cut through their delirium and bring them a little to their senses. I now walked purposefully up the landing and dropped a curtsey before my aunt.

  “Madam,” Doll said, and continued in a most businesslike manner, “Master Frederick has sent me to bring you away. You are to come at once. Your coach is waiting below. Come along now,” and I proferred my arm.

  “Frederick?” queried my aunt, moving to take my arm, and then checking herself. “No, I can’t go. I cannot, under any circumstances, quit the house. What about little Joe? I cannot leave him. Roger will throw him out.”

  “Joe is ready to go with you and waits below,” I continued resolutely. “Everything is packed, but you must come now. Master Frederick’s orders, madam.” She dithered and a further explosion made me play my last card immediately. “Look madam, little Puss is waiting for you. Puss?” At this Tobypuss dutifully barked and I indicated she look over the banister, which she did, absently taking Ted’s proffered arm, and coming out of her room to do so.

  “Puss?” she queried. “Is it dear old Puss?”

  His evident delight at seeing his old mistress did the trick and assisted by Ted and Godfrey, she hastened, as far as she was able to hasten, down the stairs, but according to my instruction Joe was ahead of her and, untying Tobypuss, led him slowly out of the house and into the coach, while Aunt Madge followed as meekly as a lamb.

  My work here was done and having ascertained from Godfrey that Ted and Reg had no idea where to go, as their original destinations, the homes first of Dr Rookham and next of Mr Fluke (who I was glad to learn incidentally were both yet living) had been either consumed by the fire or yet lay in its path, and the Potters feared Aunt Madge was unequal to undertaking the journey into her estate in Gloucestershire, we resolved Godfrey would take them all to his house at Lincoln’s Inn Fields in the meantime.
I decided the less Aunt Madge and the Potters saw of me the better, so set off on foot, while the coach rolled away.

  38

  I headed back in the direction of Clerkenwell, but was obliged to make many diversions. In some places roads were blocked, and in others militia men were forcing evacuations so they could blow up houses with gunpowder to make fire breaks. The atmosphere in the city was turning most ugly as people looked for someone to blame for the disaster. Rumours had abounded for the past two days that the fire had been deliberately started by the Dutch (which at least made sense because of the war), or the French, or Republicans, but most people were happy to blame the Catholics, as when a dog is to be beaten, any stick will serve. As a consequence there had been most unhappy scenes of violence, and I believe more people were killed in these outbreaks of general hysteria than died in the fire itself.

  I kept being thrown back in the direction of the fire and in some places got far closer to it than was comfortable and heard the incredible news that at least two thirds of the city had already been consumed, including the entire length of the north bank of the river within the city walls, and a third of the houses on my beloved bridge. I did not realise how late it was becoming, as the brightness of the fire prevented darkness falling, casting a diabolical light on the unnatural scenes about me.

  The fire itself had the noise of a whirlwind in it which, combined with the wails and cries of the people, seemed the sound of Hell itself. Everywhere there were people weeping, wringing their hands, smiting their breasts, cursing themselves for their powerlessness and appealing to Heaven to help them. To see mothers carrying their children, men their wives from child-bed, and the young bearing away the elderly, out of their houses with only the clothes they stood up in, was a most sorrowful sight, and all were most frighted and having nowhere to go added confusion to terror and everyone went about with desperate faces. In other places the lack of activity was more alarming than the panic. People stood about, as if turned to stone by grief, making no attempt to fight the fire or save their belongings, but simply looking on as their houses and shops were consumed.