The Betrayal (8 page)

I heard myself saying to Sonny, ‘Don’t bother to change back into your blue coat. You’re not stopping.’

‘
What?
’

‘We’re going back to Green Lane. You don’t have to stop here.’

He looked across the coffin-beds at me, half bewildered, half hopeful. ‘D’you really mean it, Missus?’

I nodded, holding out my hand. ‘No one seems bothered whether you’re here or not, so you might as well come back with me.’

He hesitated a moment. ‘Will it be all right?’ he breathed. ‘Won’t you get ’rested by the constable?’

‘I shouldn’t think so,’ I said.

‘An’ what about yon cook?’

‘I’ll sort it out with her …’

No one stopped us going out of the place, no one called after us, so we just kept on walking the quickest
way home. On the way I asked Sonny how the bigger boys treated the younger ones, if they’d been nice to him, and was treated to another of his scornful looks.

‘Was there anyone in particular you didn’t like?’ I asked.

‘I should say. There was a stout cove we named Big Billie, who had a scar on his face he said he got from fighting a wolf.’ Sonny drew a finger down and up his cheek in a ‘V’ motion. ‘He used to come round the lads’ beds at night and if they had anything good he’d shake it out of ’em.’

I nodded. Strangely, it was just as I’d visualised.

Reaching the house, I told Sonny to hide himself in the hall cupboard while I found the right moment to talk nicely to Mistress Midge. As it happened, though, I didn’t have to say anything at all, for on seeing me she put down her broom and turned to me, her plump face creased with concern.

‘I’ve been thinking about that lad,’ she said. ‘It can’t be much of a life for him in that place – that foundlings’ home.’

I shook my head. ‘No, I don’t suppose it is.’

‘What was it like? A dirty hole, I’ll be bound.’

‘It wasn’t dirty,’ I said, ‘for the boys have to keep it clean and Lord help them if they don’t. It was just sad and lonely.’

‘Ah,’ she said, shaking her head and sighing. ‘But did he settle in all right? Had anyone been asking for him?’

I shook my head. ‘I don’t think so. There are near four hundred boys there and he said he didn’t have a friend amongst them.’

She gave a sharp cry. ‘I knew it! You never should have taken him back.’ She glared at me accusingly. ‘Why ever did you do such a thing?’

‘I thought we agreed … because of what Mistress Gove said.’

‘Pah! Who is she to tell us? Just because her daughter is married to a nightwatchman she thinks she knows the law.’

‘Do you wish he hadn’t gone back, then?’ I asked. ‘Do you wish we’d have kept him here with us?’

‘Indeed I do,’ she said stoutly.

‘But what would we have done with him when the Dee family arrived?’

She frowned, then her face cleared. ‘Told Dr Dee, and kept him on as a boot boy.’

‘But what if the parish constable should have come a-calling?’

‘Psshh! We could have disguised the lad, grown his hair … dressed him in Merryl’s clothes and pretended he was a girl!’

There was a scuffle as Sonny burst out of the hall cupboard. ‘No, Missus! I won’t wear lace petticoats, indeed I won’t!’

Mistress Midge gaped at me. ‘What … ?’

‘I couldn’t leave him,’ I said. We both turned to stare at Sonny. ‘He seemed so small and helpless, and had no
one to speak for him.’

We turned to face Sonny, who was no doubt torn between appearing helpless and wanting to assume his customary grin and swagger. ‘I like it here better, Missus,’ he said. ‘You gets more vittles.’

A week later, although the house had been cleared of rubbish and was swept clean, it was not yet suitable to be lived in by members of polite society. Mistress Midge said in view of
she who might visit
, it was essential that it reached a certain level of comfort and refinement, but the walls of the rooms were mouldy with damp, and the whole house needed a coat of paint and two coats of distemper. As for the furniture – well, the old mattresses were good enough for Mistress Midge and me, and Sonny always slept in the kitchen in front of the fire – but for the Dee family, new mattresses and bedsteads would have to be purchased, as well as certain other items.

Mistress Midge proposed that we should inform Dr Dee of all this and ask for his instructions, and accordingly I purchased a sheet of parchment, a quill and some ink to write to him. As I wrote (and this took
some considerable time and much chewing of the end of the quill) I was aware that I was giving away a secret, for until then I’d kept him ignorant of the fact that I could read and write. The letter completed, however, I added my loving wishes to Beth and Merryl and said I hoped they were doing well at their studies, for they would have restarted lessons with their tutor.

We decided we should let Sonny take the letter back to Mortlake, for this seemed an ideal opportunity to show how useful he was, and Mistress Midge asked me to add a few lines saying that Sonny was being of considerable help and suggesting, if Dr Dee approved, that he stay on as a go-between ready to travel between the two households. We’d already been to a rag fair and exchanged Sonny’s black crêpe funeral clothes (which were a very decent quality) for two pairs of breeches and a jacket, and Mistress Midge had also purchased a cap to hide his shaven head. Early in the morning, therefore, the letter set securely inside his jacket, Sonny set off for the river steps, intending to take a place on one of the barges going upriver to Mortlake and pay his way by helping load and unload whatever goods they were carrying.

As we said goodbye to him at the front door my eyes stung a little, for I’d become attached to him in the time he’d been with us, and he seemed very young to be undertaking such journeys up and down the river.

‘Do you think he’ll return?’ Mistress Midge asked as we waved him off.

‘Of course!’

‘You don’t think he’ll just make a bolt for freedom?’

I shook my head. ‘I think not. All he wants is to live with a family and be fed at regular intervals.’

Having been busy since we’d arrived, sweeping, scrubbing, washing down walls and cleaning windows, I’d hardly had a spare moment to think about Tomas. Now that the house was reasonably clean, however, and Mistress Midge and I had little to do until Sonny returned with Dr Dee’s instructions, I turned my thoughts to Whitehall and those within it, wondering if Tomas knew I’d arrived (surely he did, if he was any sort of a spy?) and how long it would be before he contacted me. I wondered, too, about the new lady-in-waiting and whether she’d settled into her position at Court. I found myself hoping that she had not; that she had been quite dreadfully homesick and had had to return to wherever she’d come from.

It didn’t often happen that servants found themselves with time on their hands, and while I wasted mine thinking about Tomas, Mistress Midge turned to more practical matters and profited by it. There being an ancient oven, she took the opportunity to try out a recipe her sister had given her: a seasonal treat consisting of gingerbread cut into an oval – roughly a mouse’s shape – and glazed with a little melted white sugar and egg white. These mice, with a currant nose and string tail, proved to be extremely popular with
our neighbours on each side and beyond, and Mistress Midge decided she’d make a batch every day and sell them at the door. She knew, of course, that this activity would have to cease as soon as the Dee family arrived, but until then she was going to earn some money to put aside for her old age.

For two mornings I contented myself by helping her glaze the mice and give them currant noses, then realised that I was wasting valuable time. I was in London; surely I could find myself a more exciting pastime? The next thought came hot along on the heels of the first: I would attend a play at the George Inn …

I told Mistress Midge what I intended and to my surprise she was as shocked as Sonny had been. ‘You certainly cannot go to a play,’ she cried. ‘They’re for horse thieves, rich men and their painted strumpets!’

‘That’s a monstrous old-fashioned view,’ I objected, conveniently forgetting the array of scantily dressed women I’d seen before. ‘The queen goes to plays now. The Court go. There’s a theatre company named the Queen’s Players. Would Her Grace allow her name to be employed if there was anything in the least bit indecent about attending a performance?’

Mistress Midge paused in the act of lifting a tray of newly cooked gingerbread mice out of the oven. ‘Even so, what holds for the Court does not hold for the rest of the world, for
they
have special rules. I’m telling you that no decent woman would be seen playgoing.’

I sniffed, enjoying the gingery-sweet smell on the air.

‘Once ’twas known that you’d been in the audience you’d be labelled as a woman of easy virtue.’

‘But no one about here knows me.’

‘What about our new neighbours?’ she said, meaning those in Green Lane who’d been buying her sugared mice.

‘If they’re at the inn to see me, then they’re as guilty of loose living as I am. Which, as you know, is not at all,’ I added.

She shook her head, frowning. ‘You risk losing your reputation and being the object of unwanted attentions. Take my advice: if you go to such a place, then go in a man’s garb.’

I was about to laugh at this notion, then stopped and thought about it. Whether she was right or not about playgoing, I didn’t want to be the subject of any man’s attentions. Perhaps going dressed as one was the sensible thing to do …

Between us, Mistress Midge and I improvised a costume. She owned a white shirt which gathered into a small ruff at the neck (and having no other decoration, was suitable apparel for either sex) and I found I could just get into Sonny’s spare pair of breeches. I had some dark, newly darned hose and stout footwear and wore a short jacket of my own which fastened with plain wooden pegs. I tugged my hair off my face and fastened it on top of my head so that it lay as flat as possible, and over it wore the black, close-fitting coif that Sonny had worn as a funeral mute.
This concealed every bit of hair (although, I own, was none too attractive).

I dressed, then went to the kitchen, where Mistress Midge, busily glazing her mice, looked me up and down and laughed heartily. ‘You make a fine youth,’ she declared, ‘if a little on the short side. What will your name be?’

‘Why? I don’t intend to introduce myself to anyone!’

‘Nevertheless, you must have a name ready in case you’re asked. And an occupation.’

‘Surely not …’

‘And you mustn’t trill or giggle, but develop a manly guffaw for the vulgar parts of the play. There will be many of those,’ she added darkly. She bowed to me. ‘And your name, young man, is … ?’

‘Is … is Luke!’

‘And what do you do, young Luke?’

‘I’m a glove-maker and embroiderer,’ I said, giving my old occupation.

Mistress Midge shook her head. ‘You must have a more manly job.’

‘I’m training to be a cook in an important household.’

‘That’s better.’ She nodded slowly. ‘And yes, ’tis plausible that, after helping serve dinner at midday, you might be allowed out of the house on occasion for a play’s two o’clock performance.’

I gave a flourish of my hand and bowed from the waist, as I’d seen Tomas bow to the queen – although I
could not, of course, doff my hat.

Mistress Midge beamed. ‘It’s years since I had such attentions from a fine young man,’ she said, then stood back and studied me. ‘You need a little beard, perhaps …’

‘Never!’ I said in alarm.

‘Just some shading around your jaw …’ She bent over the fire and, taking a little coal dust, brushed it over my chin. ‘There,’ she said, ‘a suggestion of a beard is all that’s needed. It gives you a certain dignity.’

‘I’m playgoing,’ I reminded her, ‘not taking service at St Dominic’s.’ But I let the stubbled look remain, to please her.

I enjoyed my stroll to the George. At first I was unsure of how to conduct myself and felt awkward and self-conscious, but, seeing a group of youths, fell in behind them and began to imitate their swagger. Copying them, I kept my head high and if anyone stared at me, looked back boldly instead of lowering my glance. I found it refreshing to take large strides instead of small and dainty ones, to be wearing breeches instead of a kirtle and petticoats, which had to be constantly lifted out of the mud, and to have my hair tucked away and not blowing itself into tangles. Most of all I enjoyed not being the object of the ’prentices’ attentions, for in London they were much cheekier than those at Mortlake, and would catcall and whistle whenever a girl passed.