Mama and I were to make sure Claire was washed and in clean clothes, ate what was served to her and that her chamber pot was emptied. The first time Widow Primmer unlocked Claire’s door, the chamber pot shot through the air towards us, scattering its contents across the floor. Mama whispered that Claire should be recruited to stand on the gatehouse by the quay to defend the town against the French. Claire could do more damage than any musket.
Emptying the chamber pot was the easiest task. Nobody asked Claire what food she liked or when she wanted to eat it or what clothes she wanted to wear, or if indeed she would prefer to have hair or not. I wasn’t surprised she was angry. Mama was good at soothing her. She said that she understood how Claire must feel.
We settled into our new life easily, too easily. Every day I tried to tell Mama about the beads. Every day I’d clear my throat and feel the words bubble in my mouth, but then pop before I could say them. I did try and remind her about finding Jacques Francis, but she’d just laugh and tell me not to worry.
“We have months, Eve. Months!”
One week passed. Then another. One morning there was a knock at the door. Mama was with Claire, and Widow Primmer’s hands were sticky with the dough she was kneading. It was strange. I had never opened a front door before. Mama and I were normally lower than the servants who opened the front door – that’s if we lived somewhere with a door at all. I drew back the latch, twisted the key and pulled the door open, an inch at a time. Gina was standing there with Griffin by her side.
I went to hug Gina, but Griffin stepped between us.
“Good morning, Widow Primmer,” he called past me. “Are you able to spare Eve this morning?”
I glanced back. “Don’t you want me to scrub the pots, Mistress?”
“You can do that later,” Widow Primmer said. “Go with Griffin, but collect some bacon on the way home.”
Griffin pulled the door shut and nudged me down the steps. As I came down on to the cobbles, we disturbed two cats scavenging for scraps in the gutter. One of them, a scrappy grey thing with a dark blotch across its back, raised its head and looked at us. A fish head dangled from its mouth.
“The cats are getting bold,” Griffin said. “Usually they stay hidden. Maybe they’ve come out to welcome you.”
Gina glared at him. “Leave her alone.”
He raised his hands. “I’ve done nothing to her.”
Gina took my hand and tucked it through her arm. “We’re leaving tomorrow and Griffin thought…” Another hard look towards her brother. “He thought that you may have forgotten your debt to him.”
“To us,” Griffin said. “Show her what’s owed.”
“I don’t have to,” Gina snapped back.
Griffin stepped towards her. “I said, show her!”
Gina glared at him. With her free hand, she drew the worsted bag out of her pocket. She didn’t have to open it to show me how much fuller it was. She handed it to me. I could feel its weight in my palm. How many beads were in there now? I was too afraid to ask. I gave it back to her.
“Perhaps you need some assistance finding your diver,” Griffin said. “As you don’t seem to have enjoyed much success with your search so far.”
“We’ve been settling in,” I said.
“And now you should be settled.”
“Do you know where he is?” I asked.
“No,” Gina said. “But my brother’s decided that we should take you to the places where you might find him.”
If it wasn’t for Griffin lurking behind us, I would have felt like a rich lady with my own escort showing me the sights of a new country. The places we lingered, though, were not those that rich people usually favoured. We carried on down East Street, out through the East Gate and across a bridge over a ditch. We came out on to common land next to a herd of cows. They ignored us. They were too busy eating.
“If your diver needs wood or peat for his fire,” Griffin said, “you may find him here.”
“There’s a well too,” Gina added.
“Yes,” Griffin smirked. “Perhaps your diver has become a washerwoman.”
Gina turned her back on him. “See over there? Those are orchards.”
I nodded, though I knew that I would never recognize an apple tree unless there were apples on it. They took me to Biddles Gate over by the quay. It was where boats were repaired and there was a crane hoisting barrels from a small vessel on to the wharf.
“There is sometimes work to be had here,” Griffin said. “For those who like to be close to the water.”
I didn’t mention that Jacques Francis worked with an apothecary. Mama had been right: trust no one.
I followed them to the God’s House Tower. We went through the gatehouse and looked down at the water working the mill beneath it.
“There are guns up on the roof,” Gina said. I squinted up into the sunshine, but I couldn’t see them.
“If your diver has a steady hand with a musket,” Griffin said, “he could be there. If he is, make sure you find him soon.”
“Why?”
“The tower holds the gunpowder store. Just one spark, and—” Griffin made an explosion sound. If a fire took hold, I wondered if Jacques Francis would dive off the battlements into the water below.
“You know Southampton well,” I said
