“I don’t know. Pass me the purse and I’ll return it.”
My mouth wouldn’t open. My lips wouldn’t move or I would have shouted no! Mama saw me trying to speak and felt my forehead again.
She handed Valentine the money. “Go. And come back quickly.”
He strode off towards the inn. I felt like I’d been lying too close to the fire while an angry cook pummelled me with a cudgel. I wasn’t sure I could get out of the cart even if he found us a room fit for the Queen.
Mama lay next to me and covered us both with her cloak.
“Be patient,” she said. “You’ll be in a soft bed soon.”
An owl called and further away I could hear the tinkle of water. There must have been stables too, as Succour was answering faint whinnies with a jerk of the cart. I fell asleep and woke up to voices. One was Mama’s, the other was a man’s. The tips of my fingers were stinging with cold and every time my body moved, I thought lightning had struck my head.
“The horse is to be stabled,” the man said. He must be the ostler.
“And what about us?”
“He didn’t tell me he had passengers.”
“Then please go and find him, sir. He has instructions to find us lodgings.”
“He’s long gone to his bed. He enjoyed the landlord’s kegs very well indeed.”
I must have groaned because they stopped talking and a pool of light fell over me.
“Is she sick?” the ostler asked.
“Just a chill.” There was a quiver in Mama’s voice. “She fell into the river a few months ago and it weakened her chest.”
I saw the ostler shake his head. “We cannot bring London sickness into the house.”
“It’s just a chill,” said my mother.
“It always starts with just a chill,” he replied.
“She does not have the plague! It’s just a chill!”
“You cannot come into the house.”
“Then what are we to do?”
The ostler untied Succour from the post and led her – and me – over to the stables. He opened a wide door and we went in. I could hear Mama following behind.
“We are not vagrants!” Her voice sounded harsh and loud. “We cannot sleep in a bush! We have money!”
“Where is your money?” the ostler asked.
“It’s with that rogue!” Mama said.
The ostler started to unbuckle Succour from the harness. “Then your argument is with him.”
Mama’s voice was very quiet. “I don’t want an argument. I just want a warm place to stay for the night.”
I closed my eyes, though it was more like my eyes were sinking into my head and the skin was closing up over them like a scab.
We slept in the stable’s hayloft. The ostler brought us blankets, bread and a little soup. I know now that it was his wife’s doing. She’d come into the stables to find him, seen us and berated him for refusing us help. She even brewed up medicine and made a poultice for me, though Mama said she wouldn’t come close enough to touch me, even though Mama showed her my neck to prove I was free from plague boils.
I should remember more of those hours, but my memories are like the smoke from the merchants’ houses on the bridge. They curl up out of my head and disappear. I remember smells – hay, dung, horse sweat. There was my sweat too, because my clothes were wet, like I’d just been pulled out of the river again. If Mama had tried to take those clothes off me, my skin would have peeled away with them. Mama sang, I remember that. Her face was close to mine, her hand stroking my hair. I remember a cockerel crowing and another one answering its call before I closed my eyes.
I woke up in full light. I lay there in my damp hay-covered shroud and tried to work out what was missing. Of course – it was Mama. My body was still tender and heavy, but I managed to drag it over to the hatch to look down into the stable. She wasn’t there. Nor was Succour. They must be attaching him to the cart again. I knew from yesterday that Succour would be putting up a fight. Mama must be with Valentine, telling him exactly what she thought of him making us sleep in a stable.
Unless they’d left me. No, Mama would never do that, not even if I really did have the plague. I touched my neck. I couldn’t feel any lumps, but maybe there were other signs I didn’t know about. Maybe Mama was persuading the ostler’s wife to brew me up more medicine?
Hooves clattered in the yard outside. Someone shrieked. Was that Mama? My heart beat harder. I wriggled over to the ladder that led down into the stable and grasped the top rung, but the inside of my head was curling smoke again. My eyes were blurry and the sweats had returned. I lay on my back. I could hear shouting now and the voice was Mama’s. The hooves grew quieter and quieter until they were gone.
“Eve?” Mama’s head poked out from the hatch.
I turned my head and opened my eyes. “Are we leaving now?”
She climbed up and dropped on to the hay next to me.
“He’s gone, Eve. He’s left us. The ostler’s wife came to warn me, but he would have run me down rather than stop for us. He has all our money.” She lay down. “He has everything.”
I knew then that she was sinking. When I fell out of the wherry, it felt like I was being pulled to the bottom of the river. When Mama sank, it was like everything was being pulled back inside her. She couldn’t talk or eat, and I don’t think she always knew who I was. Sometimes it lasted for a day or two. Once, it was for nearly a month. Please don’t sink. Please don’t sink. When she was falling, I knew I couldn’t catch her. We lay
