As March tipped into April, I spent every moment I could with her. I’d be tidying Claire’s chamber while Mama helped Claire eat, or I’d be sitting with Claire on her bed as Mama told us stories or sang us songs in her own language. I’d stand side by side with Mama as we chopped vegetables and I’d help her sweep away the old rushes on the floor and lay down new ones. I hurt if I couldn’t see her because I knew that each day a new bead would drop into Griffin’s bag. I wondered how often he counted them and smiled at the fortune he saw coming his way. Then I’d remember the woman in the pillories. Her face would fade away and it would be Mama’s instead.
I still walked around the town but I kept my head down. Folks had always glanced at Mama and me wherever we went, although less so in Southwark, where all manner of people made their home. Now I did not want to meet anyone’s eye. Mama and I were foreigners. Did they think badly of us? The day before, I had seen two young women coming towards me. Servants, I’d thought. They’d turned to each other and one whispered. Did they believe I was a witch about to curse them? Did the priest in St Lawrence’s Church see me pass by and wonder why I hadn’t attended service on Sunday? Did he think Mama had been baptized a Catholic and wonder if she’d converted? Did he question whether I’d been baptized at all? The path that Mama and I were treading felt so delicate.
Sometimes I would see Jacques Francis down by the wharf. We would nod to each other, but we wouldn’t speak. He would never change his mind, I knew that now. But, I had to remind myself, I was an adventurer. Adventures always went wrong before they ended well. It just meant making a different plan. One day I was sitting by Biddles Gate trying to work out what that plan could be when a voice called up to me.
“You!”
I looked down. It was the young fisherman who’d been there the day I first saw Jacques Francis. He was standing by an upturned boat. He rubbed his hands together.
“I’m still seeing your dada about,” he said. “Doesn’t he want to go back with you?”
“He’s not my father.”
The fisherman rubbed his hands again. His palms were so black with pitch, I was surprised they didn’t stick together.
“That’s a pity. I heard he’s got a room full of gold.” He started to climb the steps towards me. “They say he goes out into the river at night and doesn’t need a lantern because he can see in the dark. He swims right out to where the treasure is and when we’re all sleeping, he picks it off the bottom of the river and takes it home for himself.”
The fisherman’s head was now level with mine. His cheek was streaked with black and there was a lump of pitch knotted in his hair.
“There’s a richer harvest than eels in that water,” he said. “I’d take a boat and look myself, if I could swim. But if I tried, I’d just be another load of bones sitting on the river bed.” He smiled at me. His teeth looked like he’d been rubbing pitch on them too. “But if someone else could swim, I’d show them where all the gold was and we could share the bounty.”
I gave him a sideways look. This was just another sailors’ tale.
“I suppose you know where the boat went down,” I said.
“Yes,” he said. “Of course I know.”
“The Sancta Maria and Sanctus Edwardus?”
He nodded hard. “Yes. That one.”
“How do you know?”
“Everyone does. Do you want me to show you?”
“I…”
You’re an adventurer, Eve. You need a plan.
“I can’t swim, but I know someone who can. If there really is treasure, they might be able to help.”
“Well, how about you come back this evening and bring them with you?”
This evening? Mama would never come out with me. I’d even stopped reminding her about her promise to George Symons. She said she’d tell him the truth when he came to Southampton, that there was no treasure. But how did she know when she hadn’t even tried to look?
“She won’t be able to come this evening,” I said.
“How about you? I can show you where it is.”
If I went with him, I could find out the exact spot where Mama had to dive. Maybe the fisherman would help me find out how deep it was too, so she’d be able to prepare herself. We didn’t need Jacques Francis after all. We could make our fortune by ourselves. Except…
“How big is your boat?” I asked.
He waved his hand towards the quay. “It’s a fishing boat.”
It was even smaller than a wherry. The river here was calm, though, and there were no arches for it to rush through. Could I take a boat out into the river at night to find treasure? That would be a real adventure! But what if I couldn’t do it? What if I took one step into the boat and had to jump back on to the shore?
“I’m … not sure. I don’t really like boats.”
He smiled again. “No matter. If you can’t see where we found the gold, I can still show you some, to prove I’m not lying.”
“You’ve already found gold?”
How could he be rich and still be a fisherman? He was wearing patched breeches and stockings
