Mama and I slept in the loft room above the buttery. It was cold, but they left us with a pile of blankets. As I cuddled into Mama, she put her arms around me and sighed. Next morning, Gina brewed Mama an infusion of herbs scooped from one of the sacks in the back of the cart. She refused to leave Mama until every drop was swallowed. I was also plied with medicine to make sure the last of my fever had broken.
Next stop, Southampton.
Travellers arriving from the south into London are met with tarred traitors’ heads on poles on the bridge gatehouse. There’s no such welcome to Southampton. We crunched along the gravel highway and waited our turn to pass over a bridge and through a great stone gateway. It was decorated with a painting of Queen Elizabeth and two more of people I didn’t recognize. One of them looked like a giant. George Symons hadn’t mentioned that there were giants in Southampton. I hoped they were friendly. On top of the gateway, instead of heads, there were fat white gulls, squawking and jostling for space on the ledges. Just like in London, walls stretched out from the gates to surround the town. Griffin paid the toll and we passed through.
I took a deep breath in. In London the air is still, caught in the twists between the alleyways and below the overhanging gables. Here, it felt like there was space for the breeze to dance. A road stretched down from the stone gate that looked like the town’s main highway, lined with shops and taverns. There was a church spire down to the left and another on the right. That was the way we turned, on to a square. The church was on one side of the square and houses clustered round the other three sides. In the middle was a building on wooden pillars and below that, the ground was stained with blood from the fish market. The market had finished for the day, but I could still smell it. Dogs were skittering around the cobbles, bursting through the gulls searching for scraps. High on the hill, was a castle. I imagined standing on the keep and being able to look out across the water. I wondered if they could see the shipwreck from there.
“Where are you lodging?” Gina asked.
I looked at Mama. It often takes a while for her to find her thoughts when she is surfacing.
“Our lodgings in Southampton, Mama. Where are they?”
Mama frowned, then smiled. “He said we should go to Widow Primmer on East Street.”
Griffin nodded. “I know the house.”
Mama stayed in the cart while Griffin led Anastasia. Gina and I fell in behind. I knew that I would be sorry to leave her.
“Try and make sure your mother stays warm,” Gina said. “Griffin says that the melancholic personality is prone to the cold. And take her for walks by the river too.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’m not sure how Mama and I would have survived if we hadn’t met you.”
Suddenly, I had a thought. I dipped into my pocket and pulled out my poppet. It was battered and dirty and didn’t look much of a gift. I offered her to Gina.
“We bought her at Bartholomew Fair. I know she doesn’t look much, but the woman said it would bring us luck. And it has. It brought us you. I thought you might like some luck too.”
Gina shook her head. “I can’t take it.”
“Please do.” I dropped the poppet in her apron pocket. “Shall we catch up with your brother and Mama?”
Gina touched my arm. “I … I have something to show you. It’s not a present, but Griffin told me that you must see it.”
She opened her hand. She must have been holding it all this time. It was a small bag, made of smooth, wool-spun worsted, with no decoration. Gina loosened the drawstring and let me look inside.
“Beads?” I asked. They were wooden ones, enough to make a decent necklace. “What are they for?”
Gina took a breath. “Griffin said that they’re to remind you of your debt.”
“My debt?”
She swallowed so loudly, I almost thought it was my own throat. “Griffin says that we have fed you, transported you, found overnight lodgings for you and treated your maladies. This has been at cost to ourselves and we’re not rich people.”
She picked a bead out and held it close to her eyes. “Each bead is worth a penny. He’s going to add a bead a day because he says that’s another day he – we – don’t have the money he spent on you and your mama. He says the last day for payment is May Day.”
She dropped the bead back into the bag and drew the string tight so the beads bulged against the thick fabric. When the strings were loose again, there would be room for many more beads.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She took the poppet out of her pocket. “Do you want your luck back?”
I gently pushed her hand away. “Your brother is right. You’re like us and you can’t live off kindness. Keep the poppet.”
Though I hoped the luck was for her and not for her brother.
The houses on East Street were not like the ones on the square. They were narrower and squashed together. If there was a Southwark in Southampton, this was it. The roaming dogs belonged to no one, just like the Southwark ones and, just like in Southwark, they were happy to leave their mess everywhere. They shared the streets with geese. I have always been more afraid of geese than dogs.
Some of the houses looked ready to tumble down, but Widow Primmer’s house was solid, with tall, twisted chimneys and a slate roof. Widow Primmer reminded me of her house, tall and thin,
