At the Sign of the Sugared Plum (10 page)

Out of the darkness of Doctor da Silva’s shop a monstrous figure came towards me, causing me to scream aloud. The creature was broad and imposing, its head was that of a great bird of prey, with a tiny shining eye and a great hooked beak, and its breathing as it lumbered towards me was hoarse and rasping.

‘Keep away!’ I screamed. I backed away, trembling, feeling behind me for the door through which I’d just entered. I tried to recall some holy words to banish such an evil and unearthly creature, but in my panic could not think of any.

There was the sound of running feet across the shop and Tom’s voice called, ‘It’s all right, Hannah!’ he said. ‘It’s just Doctor da Silva.’

I burst into tears of fright and relief and Tom put his arms around me. ‘It’s the doctor in the outfit he
uses to visit the stricken.’

I drew in a shuddering breath, peering through my fingers at the figure. Now that I could see more clearly in the dim light I discerned that it was, indeed, only a man in a strange headdress and covering gown of heavy waxed material, and not a creature from hell at all. ‘Is it truly him?’ I asked, for I felt comforted in Tom’s arms and did not want to stir myself from them.

‘Doctor, will you take off your head?’ Tom asked, and the frightening creature lifted his arms and pulled off the leathery headdress of his outfit, beak and all, revealing himself indeed as the doctor.

‘Yes, it is I,’ he said, trying to flatten his tangled grey hair. ‘I am dressed to go and treat plague victims.’

My fright disappearing, I thought I had better let my arms fall from Tom’s shoulders, for I did not wish to appear too forward. ‘And is this what you have to wear?’ I asked breathlessly.

The doctor nodded. ‘All the apothecaries and the doctors – that is, those who are still in London and have not gone away to the country with their wealthy patrons – have them now.’

‘The thick gown prevents any infection touching the doctor’s skin, and the beak contains strong herbs,’ Tom said. ‘Every breath he takes will come through these herbs and be cleansed.’

‘And the herbs are . . .?’ Doctor da Silva asked of Tom.

‘Alehoof, ivy, sage, chervil and scabious, sire,’ he answered, and the doctor nodded. He looked at me. ‘And how are you and your sister, and how do you find yourself in your shop? Do you have good health?’

‘We are doing quite well, I thank you,’ I said.
‘Though we have . . .’ My voice choked in my throat and I had to pause a moment. ‘We have lost some of our neighbours to the sickness.’

The doctor shook his head reflectively. ‘It is said that Thursday’s Bills will contain some 2,000 deaths.’

I gasped. ‘But that is double that of last week!’

‘And it will increase, I fear, unless they stop shutting up the houses and entombing the living with the dead,’ he said.

‘Doctor da Silva thinks it would be better to take the sick person off to a pesthouse and isolate him there,’ Tom explained.

‘Although the city is not supplied with nearly enough of those,’ the doctor said grimly. ‘In the meantime when one person sickens and they are shut in with their family and servants, then they
all
fall sick. There is nothing more certain. One might just as well bury them alive.’

‘But can people catch the plague and live?’ I asked, for this was something Sarah and I had been pondering.

‘It is possible – with the right treatment at the right time. The buboes have to burst, however.’ The doctor turned to Tom as he said this, looking at him enquiringly.

‘A root of the Madonna lily mixed with hog’s grease makes a poultice to ripen plague sores,’ Tom said, on his cue.

The doctor inclined his head. ‘They must burst and discharge their poison, for if they do not then the matter goes inward and infects every organ of the body.’ He paused. ‘What preventatives are you taking?’ he asked me.

I felt my cheeks flushing. ‘I came today because Tom said he would prepare me a cordial,’ I said. ‘I wondered if he had finished it yet.’

‘The flowers had to be steeped and the liquid boiled and strained by turn. It took over a week to make,’ Tom said apologetically. ‘And then we have been so busy with our new patients and with making up preventatives I have not found time to bring it to you.’

‘So you have been taking nothing all this while?’ the doctor asked me.

‘Well, Sarah and I always chew sprigs of rosemary before we go out,’ I said. ‘And we each have a rabbit’s foot. And a cabalistic sign.’ I pulled from my bodice the piece of paper on which a travelling pedlar had written ABRACADABRA in a certain way, as a magical triangle.

The doctor looked at the paper. ‘I cannot think that this will help. But, Tom, what is Hannah’s cordial?’

‘A compound of peony flowers and cornflower leaves steeped in wine,’ Tom replied. ‘A general preventative, for I thought both her and Miss Sarah would take it.’

‘Then fetch the bottle now, and I will delay my visits to our troubled neighbours until you have taken both her and it back safely. But be quick.’

When Tom returned with the bottle I noticed that the cordial was thick and brown and did not look very appetising, but under the doctor’s eye I was given instructions for taking it. Tom and I then walked together back to the shop, seeing on the way two fellows closing up a house at Friars Alley and fastening locks and chains across the door. I told Tom of the Williams family, and of the way Dickon had
burst out of the house and gone off. Tom said he had heard before of people running mad when the sickness was on them.

‘I know tales of folk who have thrown themselves out of windows or run to the river and jumped in to drown themselves,’ Tom said, shaking his head, ‘for there is such pain while the buboes are swelling that some fair go mad with it.’

‘But the doctor said that it is possible to catch the pestilence
and
survive.’

‘Aye,’ he said. ‘If the swellings burst and heal, there is a chance. And if the tokens have not appeared.’

‘What are tokens?’ I asked fearfully. ‘Is that another name for the buboes?’

He shook his head. ‘They are little marks under the skin.’

‘Like freckles?’

He smiled at me, tapping my nose with his finger. ‘Not like freckles!’ he said. ‘Like pink blotches. They come up on the chest or arms. And if
they
appear then there is no hope at all, even if the buboes have burst.’

Our hands touched and, saying nothing, we linked our little fingers so that no one else could see. ‘But how are you faring within yourself, Hannah?’ he asked me. ‘Tell me truly.’

I sighed and told him about Mew, and he said that the doctor had two pet dogs which had also been taken by the catchers. ‘It is sad,’ he said, ‘but if this helps the spread of the disease, then this is what must happen.’

On our way back I noticed several shops had been shut up, including a grocer where we sometimes got our sugar, and I wondered aloud what would happen
if more and more of them closed, and where we would buy our provisions.

‘It will be difficult,’ Tom said, ‘for already there are many less pie-sellers and hawkers around. We have heard a rumour that Leadenhall Market might close because the country farmers are no longer willing to come into the city with their goods.’

‘So what will happen if we can’t get food?’

Tom shrugged. ‘I suppose the city authorities will feed us somehow – at least with our daily bread,’ he said. ‘Although the doctor says that very little provision has been made. There are no public funds for relief of the poor, and no grain stored against such an event.’ There was a moment’s silence, then he looked at me sympathetically. ‘But were you very frightened when you saw the doctor in his outfit?’

‘I was!’ I made myself shiver in what I hoped was an appealing way. ‘I thought he was a fiend from hell!’

Tom laughed. ‘Yes, he can be. But he’s a good master.’

We reached the shop and Sarah, looking out and seeing that Tom was with me, bade him come in, saying that it was nearly midday and he might like to take some dinner with us.

‘Thank you – but the doctor has asked me to go straight back,’ Tom said to her. ‘And I have many potions and preventatives to make up.’

‘Another time, then,’ Sarah said. She turned and busied herself over the fire, tactfully averting her eyes from us as we parted. My mouth felt dry, for I could see a certain look in Tom’s eyes and was very nervous as to whether he would try to kiss me and if I should allow it.

He told me to take all necessary precautions against the sickness and said that he would see me as soon as he was able, then leaned forward and quickly brushed across my cheek with his lips. I was cross with myself afterwards, for I offered my cheek to him so quickly that he actually ended up kissing one of the ribbons on my cap.

But then again, perhaps I should not have allowed him such freedom anyway. I resolved that I would ask Abby, and went in thinking that for the last four whole minutes I had managed to forget about the plague altogether.

Three days later – for there was much to do and, as Sarah was rather low in spirits, I did not wish to leave her – I went up with our water jugs to Bell Court, hoping to see Abby. There was water to be obtained closer, but I knew she favoured this place and I was anxious to know how she was faring.

She was not in the queue for water, however, which was half as long as it usually was, for a great many of the quality had gone out of town now, either taking their servants or leaving them to fend for themselves. I could remember where she lived, so leaving my jugs unfilled for the moment, I made my way there. As I passed the various churches: St Bride’s, All Hallows, St Sepulchre’s, each was tolling its bell to tell of someone’s passing.

I would not have dared to knock at the front door of the house, but there was a young boy in the yard grooming one of the horses, and I asked him if Abby was at home. He ran off and a few moments later came back with Abby behind him.

To my great relief – for there had been a horrid dread in my mind – she looked perfectly fine and healthy. We hugged and I said I’d been anxious about her, having not seen her at the conduit.

She pointed to a well in the yard. ‘Mr Beauchurch says we must use this water now and not gather in Bell Court. He says that being in crowds is dangerous.’ She pulled a face. ‘And so I have to miss my afternoon gossips!’

She took my arm and we walked across the yard into the coolness of the dairy, which was a big, airy room tiled in blue and white. Milk churns stood along the floor, and there was a butter and cheese maker, and several big round wheels of cheese. ‘But Hannah, what d’you think!’ she said excitedly. ‘I am to travel to Dorchester with my mistress and the babe!’

‘Where is Dorchester?’ I asked, for I had never heard of it.

‘It’s in Dorsetshire, southwest of London. We are to go to a great estate belonging to my mistress’s sister, who is a titled lady, and there we will be safe from the sickness.’

‘Oh,’ I said, feeling a little forlorn. ‘When will you go?’

‘As soon as the mistress is well enough to travel.’

‘And just you with her?’

She nodded. ‘Mrs Beauchurch says that out of all the servants, I am best with the babe.’ She smiled. ‘For sure having six little sisters has helped me there.’

‘But what about your master – doesn’t he want to travel out of London as well?’

‘He has to stay at his mercers’ company to run the business,’ she said. ‘Besides, only two travel
certificates can be obtained, and they are fearfully difficult to get because they have to be signed by the Lord Mayor himself. No other signatures are being accepted!’ She danced a few steps around the floor. ‘Just think, it will take four days to travel there and we have to stay at inns along the road, where I shall meet all sorts of young gallants!’

I laughed at her, for she was twirling around and lifting her petticoats as if she was ribbon-dancing around the maypole at home. ‘But what about your sweetheart?’

She pulled a face. ‘He’s nothing but a niggardly hog-grubber,’ she said. ‘I’ve seen him walking out with one of the girls from the coffee shop.’

I was quiet for a moment. ‘I shall miss you,’ I said. ‘But when do you think your mistress will be well enough to travel?’

‘Next week, maybe. Though she was monstrous sick in the night and I had to go into her three times.’

‘But is the babe well?’

‘Aye. Healthy and hungry.’

Just then, a very well-rounded woman in a maroon gown, and a young girl in a black servant’s dress, came through the dairy, both carrying shopping baskets. The fat woman frowned slightly at Abby, who just gave a beaming smile in return.

‘All the house are very jealous that I’m going to Dorchester!’ Abby whispered, and then laughed aloud. ‘Lord, but did you see the size of Cook? That gown sits on her as tight as the skin on a plum.’ She slipped towards the back doorway of the dairy. ‘Come on – almost everyone’s out now, and the mistress is asleep. Come in and I’ll show you all the furnishings!’

The house was very large, the largest and grandest I’d ever been in. Beyond the dairy was a still room, with bunches of herbs drying and blossoms being prepared for pot-pourri and flower water, and beyond that a laundry, with ropes on which aired white linen smocks and damask bed-sheets. There was a kitchen and dining room on the next floor, but we did not go into these because Abby said the housekeeper was around. We tiptoed up to the next floor and Abby opened the door to the drawing room, showing walls hung with black and silver striped silk, delicate carved furniture and small settles bearing purple velvet cushions shot with silver. There were many portraits, too, although Abby said she didn’t know who they were, and thick patterned rugs covered the floor.