“Hurry up!” George Symons threw the words back at us. “He may have already left.”
VISITORS IN THE NIGHT
The dyer’s son was called Valentine. He looked like one of the fat-faced apprentices who roamed through Southwark after twilight. Pockmarks were scattered across his cheeks as if an enemy had thrown a fistful of small pebbles at his face. He licked his lips as if they were covered in London’s best salt. When he saw us, I thought a nail had come loose in his jaw because his mouth fell open and stayed that way. When he talked, his breath came in whistles and with too much spit. I was glad it was George Symons sitting opposite him, not me.
Valentine was the person who would carry us down to Southampton. I started to think that we’d be better travelling by boat. The deal was easier than expected. The dresses were ready for collection, but Valentine owed money – he’d been to Bartholomew Fair and had been caught out by the card sharps. He would be happy to take us if George Symons paid the seamstress and his bill at the Old Swan. George Symons wasn’t happy, but the day was passing and we had only reached London. He didn’t have time to argue. So we went to Cloth Fair to collect the dresses and then back to the Old Swan to pay his bill. Valentine also needed money for lodgings on the way – enough for two rooms because it wouldn’t be decent for him to share a room with Mama and me – for three nights, just to be safe.
“How come George Symons is paying for everything?” I asked Mama.
“Because he expects us to make his fortune.”
The sun was high and Valentine insisted that we ate before we left and also got extra food to take with us – again George Symons paid. The landlord served us bowls of pottage and boiled eels, and wrapped three meat pies for us to take away. Valentine reached out his hand for them, but Mama got there first. Valentine narrowed his eyes but said nothing.
Valentine’s horse was called Succour. He was pale brown with thick legs and a long, knotty mane. It took a while to fit the harness. Succour had been enjoying his freedom in London as much as his owner had and didn’t take kindly to being reminded that he was a carthorse. I wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t like the harness or he didn’t like Valentine. The cart was a box on a platform balanced on a shaft between two big wheels with a canopy to pull over if it rained. As it bumped and lurched around the courtyard, I knew that Mama and I would be thrown around like sacks of wheat.
Still, the adventurer inside me gave a little excited shiver. We would soon be on our way. Well, as soon as we’d finished waiting for the farmer to herd his cows across the bridge. They were thin creatures with sad faces as if they knew they were heading to market. George Symons walked to the end of Long Southwark with us. He pressed a purse of money into Mama’s hands. I saw Valentine’s eyes flick towards it and away again.
George Symons bent towards Mama. “You know what’s expected of you?”
Mama nodded.
“Good. I’ll be with you soon after May Day.”
He bent down and cupped his hand to help Mama scramble into the cart, then lifted me up and plonked me next to her. He went up to Valentine and I saw his thick, rough finger jab Valentine’s shoulder.
“Do not forget your deal!”
Valentine nodded, then pulled at Succour’s reins. George Symons strode back towards Bankside. We were finally off.
Mama and I took turns sitting on the package of dresses, but it didn’t do much to cushion the bumps. The going was slow, not much faster than we could have walked, even though Succour was pulling at his reins like he wanted to gallop away. I’m glad he didn’t. Southwark was still in sight and my bottom was already bruised.
Soon we were passing through fields, bare branches and tufts of grass. The mud on the highway was frozen into ridges and the cartwheels jolted over every one. Mama sat me on her lap in the hope it might weigh us down. Instead, it just hurt her more as she landed harder every time we bumped. In the front, Valentine was whistling away to himself. He had a thick leather cushion underneath his bottom.
We stopped once before nightfall because I needed to go to the toilet. Mama was cross. She thought Valentine wouldn’t wait for us. Just in case, she took the pies with her. Later, when I tried to eat one, the jolting meant my mouth was never where I expected it to be and I kept poking myself in the cheek. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t hungry anyway. I was starting to feel sick and I was too hot, even though Valentine was now wearing a cape over his coat. Mama touched my forehead and glanced towards Valentine. There’d been plague in London six years before I was born. Folk continued to be suspicious.
Twilight was turning the world into shadows again. The air seemed to freeze across my hot face. Mama wrapped me tight in my cloak and stroked my back as I lay across her lap.
“There’s an inn ahead,” Valentine called back to us. I’d thought he’d forgotten we were there. “I stayed there on my way up to London.” He steered Succour into the yard. “I’ll go in and enquire about rooms.”
He climbed down from the seat, stretched and tied Succour to a post.
“Pass me the money so I can secure our rooms.”
“I thought we paid the bill afterwards,” Mama said.
“We want two rooms,” Valentine said. “Good rooms too, as Master Symons instructed. I need to show the innkeeper that we can pay.”
The purse clanked in Mama’s
