The warden starts using his truncheon to pound Da’s body like he’s tenderising a piece of meat. Another warden starts moving the chain of men onwards towards the Old Bailey, past your window, dragging Da with them.
You are hiccupping with sobs now, your shoulders shaking. But as Da disappears out of sight, your tears subside. The tiny flicker of hope and determination you felt last night burns brighter and begins to glow in your belly – a fire to warm you all the way through. Da is alive – he is right next door – and you will see each other again. You must. To hell with them and their chains.
SLEEP IS IMPOSSIBLE that night. What sentence did Da get? Will he be hanged, or transported? How will he keep his promise to find you again? The stone floor and your thin blanket give you no comfort. Your position beneath the window is the coldest spot in the freezing room – everybody else huddles as far away from it as possible at night, like sheep in bad weather – but you’ve found you cannot bring yourself to leave that one small opening into the world outside now, not even while you sleep.
In the darkest part of the night, when the noises of Newgate have faded away to an occasional clank or shout, and when the air coming in through the barred window is black and frigid, a voice cackles in your ear, making you jump.
‘I saw the whole thing,’ whispers a hoarse voice. ‘Little daughter, did what she oughta. Dad was trying, you were crying. Am I right?’
You leap to your feet – and realise the voice is drifting into the cell from outside. You peer up into the window and your eyes slowly make out a figure crouching on the ground outside: a nose, two gleaming eyes in a thatch of wrinkles, a mouth black as a rotting pit, and a haze of pale hair over a scabbed scalp.
‘I be Nell,’ says this strange creature. ‘This be Hell. Now let me tell you, little winklet, what Nelly doesn’t know isn’t worth knowing. Nell knows the name of every flea that crawls on your body. Nell knows how, and who, to tell. She has ears on the ceiling and eyes up the gaolers’ nostrils. Nell knows the shape of every key that turns in every lock. Tick, tock.’
You feel a shudder run over you. Nell looks so weathered and diseased that she seems like a creature from a nightmare nightmare – or from one of Granny’s old tales about witches who steal babies. You’re about to move away when she reaches a hand through the bars and runs a fingernail down the side of your face. She has power in her fingertips. Your skin rises into goosebumps, and you feel weirdly compelled to ask her something.
‘I saw my da outside today. Can you help me find him again? He’s a prisoner on a men’s hulk, but I’m not sure where exactly. I want to know what sentence he was given today.’
She gives a wheezy laugh. ‘Nell can pass messages. Nell moves like smoke through these walls. But there’s a cost, to get back what you lost. Nothing here’s free but the fleas. You see?’
You think of the golden bracelet, safe inside the hem of your petticoat. No, that’s out of the question – you can’t give her that. It is your biggest secret in here; if the other prisoners knew you had it, you’d be murdered for it in an instant. Then you remember your twopence – but you’re not sure about giving her that either. It’s all you have in here right now.
‘I … I don’t have any money,’ you lie, ‘but I promise that later, when I get out of here, I …’ You falter, and stop. Making promises to Nell suddenly seems unwise.
Nell snorts. ‘The promise of a pauper, a scabby little daughter, a pinch of pepper and the rest’s all water. Money, coins, treasure – that’s how to pay Nelly proper. Your da’s the Irish cove with the ginger beard, big bones, bright eyes. You be the bird that sings in his empty heart. Nelly knows.’
You blink, feeling stunned and unsure. Nell is creepy and smells foul – and you’re going to need more than just your one thin blanket and a daily bowl of gruel to survive long in this place. But although Nell’s mad, she seems to know things. Maybe she earns her living by running favours for prisoners. You almost believe that she could bring back a message from your da. Knowing his sentence – especially if it’s transportation, not hanging – could give you the courage you need to survive this place. But is it worth paying Nell to find out?
To keep your twopence and steer clear of Nell, go to scene 13.
To give Nell the twopence in the hope she’ll find Da and tell you his sentence, go to scene 14.
To read more about prisons click here, then return to this page to make your choice.
You decide to be practical, and keep your coin. You’re sure to need it, and it would be risky to trust somebody as strange as Nell.
‘Sorry, Nell,’ you say, turning away from the window. ‘I don’t have any money.’
Nell makes a noise like a spitting cat and melts into the night. Perhaps she will simply go on to the next window now and try to convince somebody else to give up their money.
Following another full day standing by the window hoping for more coins – with no success – you decide that enough is enough: you are freezing cold, and it’s foolish to sleep by the window in this weather. You will sleep on
