The Gilded Lily (18 page)

‘My ma sure as hell can’t. Let’s have a go. I’m a bit older than three though. I’m seventeen. How old are you?’

‘Sixteen this week.’ She said it as if she could hardly believe it herself.

‘Really? What day’s your birthday?’

‘Look, sit here and I’ll pass you the needle.’

‘Go on, tell us the day.’

‘The twenty-sixth.’

‘Thursday. I’ll be sure to wish you many happy returns when the day comes. Now is this where it goes?’

He picked up the threads neatly with the tip of the needle, pushing the weft back against the warp. Sadie noticed how the tip of his tongue came out of the corner of his mouth as he
concentrated, and that there was the slight shadow of a moustache on his upper lip.

‘You’ve done this before,’ she said.

He grinned up at her. ‘I’ll do a few more rows to make sure I’ve got it. You won’t tell anyone, will you? ’Tis women’s work, I know, but I’ve got that
many hose with holes in, and I’ve stopped giving them to Ma, she can’t manage them.’

She sat down opposite him at the table and watched as he completed the patch.

‘Show us how to finish it off, now.’

She went over and he handed her the needle. She fumbled as she took it from him and it fell from her fingers onto the floor. They both dropped down together to search for it, feeling over the
rough floorboards with their fingers. Sadie noticed how Dennis’s wrists came a long way out of his cuffs as if his arms had recently grown too long for his sleeves.

Downstairs the door slammed and they both shot to their feet, looking guiltily at one another.

‘That’ll be your sister. And I’d better go. Ma might be awake and needing me.’

He fished his hat out of his waistband and, cramming it back on his head, hurried out of the door. Sadie heard his apologies as Ella tried to pass him on the stairs.

Ella breezed in, accompanied by an overpowering scent of lavender. She was wearing a bright red skirt and bodice cut very low at the front, under a dark green woollen
cloak.

‘What did he want?’ Ella asked, wrinkling up her nose.

‘Nothing. He came for the rental. My, Ella. You look right different. Where did you get that rig? From Whitgift’s?’

‘These are my working clothes. I left my others at the shop. You should’ve seen Jay’s face when he first saw me in this. His mouth fell open that wide you could’ve stuck
an apple in it.’

‘I thought he picked the gown out for you?’

‘Oh. Oh, yes he did.’

‘Don’t he mind you coming home in them?’

‘Who’s to know? I’ll not tell him. Anyhows, I feel more like myself in these. Here – feel the weight of that. Gorgeous, isn’t it.’

Sadie stretched out her hand to touch the fabric. ‘By, it’s fine. Watch it don’t get dirty round the hem. We’ve not had chance to sweep today.’

Ella ignored her advice and sat down heavily on the bed, kicking off her muddy shoes. ‘I’m glad to get the weight off my feet. I’ve been run ragged, fetching and carrying. Any
supper?’

‘No, Ella. We’ve nothing in. Have you not been paid yet? We could go to the bakehouse.’

‘No. I’ve already said, payday’s the end of the month. Two whole weeks. Never mind, I’m not fussed. Mrs Horsefeather gave me a currant muffin at lunchtime when she saw
I’d got no bundle with me.’ She flung her cloak down, releasing another cloud of perfume. ‘What’s that you’re doing? Darning?’

Sadie nodded, staring at Ella’s bosom, rising and falling out of the front of her bodice.

‘Surprised you can be bothered with that old rag. It wants throwing away. Stinky old thing.’

‘It keeps me warm. And it still smells of Farmer Pinkney’s sheep. Do you remember him?’

‘No. I’m done thinking on Netherbarrow now.’

Her words were like a door slamming. Ella looked different, bigger somehow. It wasn’t just the yards of red material heaped up round her where she sat, or the pinned-up hair. Ella seemed
to be growing, and she, Sadie, seemed to be shrinking.

Sadie wrapped up the darning things carefully, and put them on the windowsill. Ignoring Ella’s scathing expression she wrapped the shawl round her shoulders. Out of the corner of her eye
she caught a glimpse of the lights of the barges going by outside on the river. Their twinkling looked like hazy stars. She had a sudden longing to be on one of those barges, headed out on the
ribbon of light, out towards the wide open swell of the sea.

‘I’m lighting another rushlight,’ Ella said, opening the tin box on the wall. ‘It’s right poky in here with only the one light. At Whitgift’s there are
chandeliers with dozens of candles, so bright they make your eyes smart. And a fire blazing in the grate, so’s the ladies don’t catch a chill. It’s freezing. Is there no
wood?’

‘Not unless you want to go gather some.’

Ella sat down on the bed. ‘What? In this gown? No, when I get paid, we’ll have a good big fire, we’ll buy a great dry bundle from Farrah’s on the corner and heat up a
boiling pan with a whole chicken in it.’ Ella opened her arms to indicate a chicken of enormous proportions.

Sadie’s mouth watered, her stomach was hollow. But Ella’s optimism was infectious and she could not help but laugh. She sat down next to her. ‘That’s a bloody big
chicken. More like a swan.’

‘Oh, all right, milady, swan it is. Will you be having it stuffed with partridge or quail?’

‘Oh, quail, I should think. Partridge is so common. And I should like some roast potatoes. About two dozen should be enough.’

‘Two dozen? Why not three?’ Ella mimed stuffing her mouth with potato until her cheeks bulged. They both fell into fits of laughter, clutching for each other so they did not fall off
the bed.

‘Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye, four and twenty turkeycocks, baked in a pie . . .’ sang Ella.

Sadie spluttered with mirth. She caught a glimpse of the old Ella, the Ella before she went into service with the Ibbetsons, the Ella who used to keep her awake half the night with her
playacting and outrageous fairy tales. She squeezed Ella’s arm and Ella tickled her round the waist.

Another noise at the door below made them both startle. Something about the quality of the knocking put them on the alert.

‘Quick, get the bolt on,’ Ella said.

The knocking in the hall below got louder.

Sadie pressed her ear to the door. She waved at Ella to extinguish the light. The room fell dark and silent. Down below they could hear the front door creak open.

‘Is it that man again?’ whispered Sadie.

‘Shh. Be quiet so I can hear.’

‘Come in,’ said Dennis’s voice. ‘My ma’s not so well, so you’ll have to come into the back room if you want to speak with her.’

Footsteps walking on the flagged floor underneath.

‘Yes?’ Dennis’s mother’s voice, weakly, from somewhere under their feet.

Sadie and Ella pressed their ears to the door. A man’s voice. ‘We’re looking for two girls. One quite a looker, the other with a red stain on her face. A lad thinks he saw them
in the alley and told us they came in here.’

‘Why? What’ve they done?’ Dennis’s voice.

Sadie gripped hold of Ella’s hand.

‘There’s a reward out for them. Murder and robbery.’ Sadie took a sharp intake of breath. He said murder. Surely that could not be true? She looked to Ella and saw the whites
of Ella’s eyes move, as she shook her head vigorously.

‘It’s the constable, Ma,’ they heard Dennis say.

‘Oh my. We did take in two girls, just last week, didn’t we, Dennis? In the room upstairs.’

‘No, Ma,’ Dennis’s voice insisted, ‘it wasn’t two girls. It was just the one.’

Sadie squeezed Ella’s hand tight.

‘Only one? I thought you said it was two? One that’s a knotter, and the one from Whitgift’s?’

‘No, Ma. You’re mistaken.’ Dennis’s voice was firm. ‘It was just the one. She used to work as a knotter, but now she works at Whitgift’s. She’s very
respectable. Shall I get her to come down?’

‘Yes,’ the constable said. ‘I’d better have a word with her. Fetch her down, would you.’

Ella stood up, mouthing silently, ‘What’ll we do?’

Sadie shook her head.

‘Miss Johnson?’ There was a rap at the door.

‘Yes,’ Ella called.

Dennis said loudly, ‘Two gentlemen to see you, the constable and his man. They’re downstairs in the parlour.’

‘What do they want?’ Ella called out.

‘Something about a burglary, you’d best come down.’

Ella threw her cloak over her shoulders and unlocked the door. She ushered Dennis inside with a frantic wave of her hand.

‘They don’t know about your sister,’ he whispered, ‘you’ll have to go along with it.’ Ella threw Sadie a glance, putting her finger to her lips, and started
down the stairs, leaving Sadie alone with Dennis.

‘Hide,’ he whispered.

‘Where?’

They looked round hopelessly at the box-like room with its single truckle bed.

‘The other room?’ Sadie said.

‘No. Sorry. Key’s still downstairs.’

‘Dennis?’ His mother’s voice drifted up from below.

‘Coming, Ma,’ he called. He gave a rueful look, shrugged his shoulders and followed Ella downstairs.

Sadie knew that if they saw her, they would know who she was straight away. She struggled to drag the rough brown blanket further over the bed to give a hiding place underneath, but then tossed
the blanket aside – it would be the first place anyone would look. In a panic she gathered together the meagre pile of belongings that had come from Westmorland and held them up in her apron.
They would be recognized easily as Thomas Ibbetson’s things. She would have to get rid of them, tiptoe down and out of the front door whilst Ella kept the constable talking in the back
parlour.

She rushed to the window and peered out, thinking to throw the goods outside and collect them later. The banks of the Thames were below the level of the street and directly beneath, black oozing
mudflats. She hesitated. What if their precious objects sank into the mud and she could not find them again? But she couldn’t leave them here in the room. She’d have to carry them. She
tied the corners of her apron to the waist-strings, secured it tightly and supported its awkward bulk in her arms. She tiptoed towards the door and out onto the landing, but paused mid-movement.
She heard the downstairs door open, voices, and men’s boots coming upstairs.

She scurried to the door of the room opposite and pushed it hard but, as Dennis had said, it was locked. There was nowhere to go. She shot back into the room. The window. It was her only hope.
From the window she spied a small ledge running around the edge of the building, the ledge formed by the eaves of the room below – wooden rafters sticking out at intervals from the lath
walls. She had seen seagulls perch there and heard their plaintive cries at night.

She hoisted herself up by the sacking at the window and clambered out. For the first time, she thanked the Lord there was no glass in it. The window frame was damp and rotten, but it gave her
fingernails a good grip as she swung herself out over the black oily river beneath. The ledge was slippery with damp and bird droppings. She clung onto the window frame and edged herself sideways,
out along the ledge, her bare feet skidding on the wooden parapet. She could feel the nailed-up cloth brushing against her fingers. With the other hand she found a beam from the half-timbered
wall.

Someone opened the door inside and she heard Ella’s voice.

‘I’ve told you. There’s no need to come in. I have never heard of Mr Ibbetson. You won’t find anything here.’

‘Get out of my way. We need to check this room, whether you will or no.’

Sadie heard the scrape of their boots as they looked around the room.

The curtain moved over her fingers, a delicate tickling touch, and Dennis’s head poked out of the window. He saw her straight away. He raised his eyebrows at her in acknowledgement, then
his head disappeared inside. Sadie sidled further out along the rail, reaching out to grip onto the half-timbering.

‘What’s out there?’ said a man’s voice.

‘Nothing. Sheer drop to the river, sir,’ Dennis said.

‘Let’s look then, boy.’

The curtain twitched and Sadie held her breath. It had started to rain again. A man’s head in a grizzled wig appeared out of the window and he glanced briefly down towards the mudflats.
Sadie clung tighter. But he did not turn to look sideways, just gave a brief grunt and pulled his head back inside. She almost wept with relief. She looked down to see what he was looking at and
the height took her breath away. Far below her there was a curly-tailed dog scavenging among the fish-heads and slime. She felt faint and dizzy. She closed her eyes and clamped her numb fingers
more tightly to the wooden framework. Pray God she might not fall. The water was thick as syrup; she did not know if she could swim or whether she would drown there in the mud. Her fingers were
tired. The wind caught in her skirts and her apron was heavy, the contents threatening to overtopple her.

‘There ain’t no one else here,’ said another man’s voice. ‘Sorry, miss, to disturb you. If you don’t mind me saying, miss, it don’t look like your kind
of place, this. These two servant girls could still be round here. Slit your throat for your watch chain, they would, so I’m told.’

Sadie heard Ella say airily in her London voice, ‘Oh it’s only temporary. Till my new lodgings are ready.’

‘Good evening, Miss . . . ?’

Sadie heard Ella reel off the name as if it had always belonged to her. ‘Miss Johnson. Corey Johnson.’

‘Sorry to have troubled you, Miss Johnson. Send us word if you come across these two girls. Here is the notice that’s out for them. We’ll be posting these up in this
neighbourhood since we’ve been tipped off. As I said, there’s a reward.’

‘I sincerely hope I will never need to call you. Good evening, gentlemen.’

‘See us out then, lad.’

‘Right-o, sir,’ Dennis said. She heard the door shut.

‘Sadie?’ Ella hissed. ‘Sadie? Where the hell are you? Come out. They’ve gone.’

Sadie heard the rustle of Ella’s dress as she moved about inside but she was powerless to speak. The apron full of the stolen goods dragged on her waist. She did not dare move, she needed
all her concentration to keep her balance. The icy rain blew in her face and whipped at her skirts. She could not look down and she feared to move a single inch, so she pressed her back against the
wall, gripping tight to the window frame.