The Gilded Lily (14 page)

Read The Gilded Lily Online

Authors: Deborah Swift

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Historical, #Historical Fiction

BOOK: The Gilded Lily
5.24Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

‘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 outstretched. 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.

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.’

Other books

Red Orchestra by Anne Nelson
Book of Lost Threads by Tess Evans
The Lost Daughter by Ferriss, Lucy
Confederates Don't Wear Couture by Stephanie Kate Strohm
Island Rush by Marien Dore
Silent Partner by Stephen Frey
The Shoemaker's Wife by Adriana Trigiani
Having a Ball by Rhoda Baxter
Pug Hill by Alison Pace