“Just a few coins. They came up in my net. That’s how I know it’s there.”
Real, actual treasure! What if I could take some and show Mama? Then she’d have to agree to dive.
“When can I see it?” I asked.
The fisherman thought. “We need to be away from prying eyes. There are enough rumours already. We don’t want others knowing they’re true. I’ve also got to look after myself. I can’t take you to the place where I keep it, in case you tell other people.”
“I won’t tell other people.” Apart from Mama, of course. “Would I be able to borrow one of your coins?”
“Borrow my coins…” He frowned. “I don’t think I could allow that.”
“It’s just … just so I can show the person who can help us get the rest of it. They might not believe me unless I show them.”
“I understand. Can I trust you?”
“Yes!”
“How about you meet me on the salt marsh, right by the bowling green? I’ll bring some coins and maybe I’ll let you take one away.”
“Thank you! When shall I be there?”
“I have to finish with the boat then go and collect my coin. Then I’ll be there.”
I ran home. Would I tell Mama where I was going? Once I was sure there was treasure, we’d go out together and maybe the picture I’d seen in my head would be true – Mama rising from the water with gold glittering around her neck.
As I opened Widow Primmer’s door, a cat shot out from inside. It stood by the doorway across the street. It was the grey one with the dark blotch on its back. He’d grown fat in the last month. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the scraps Mama fed him or the rats he hunted down in the yard. He cocked his head and blinked at me as if he knew my secrets.
Inside, Mama was whisking a pot. The smell of spices wafted towards me. She tipped the pot so I could see inside. There were yellow bits that looked eggy and white liquid that could be milk or cream. I wasn’t sure about the dark brew it was all floating in. I sniffed again.
“Is that wine?” I asked.
“I’m making posset,” Mama said. “Claire was up and wandering the room last night. I hope it might calm her. There may be some extra left over if you would like it.”
“I didn’t know you could make posset,” I said.
Mama stared at the mess in the pot. “I’m not sure I can either.” She held up the spoon. Egg lumps plopped back into the pan. “Like to taste it?”
I wiped my finger across the spoon then into my mouth. Mama had used a lot of honey. That was a good thing and it almost made me forget the chewy egg bits.
“Where’s Widow Primmer?” I asked.
“Visiting some friends.” Mama laughed. “Now we’re here to care for Claire, she can do as she wishes.” Mama poured the posset into a cup. A few egg lumps dropped in as well. “She said that we can stay as long as we like if we can find employment. Your poppet really did bring us luck!” She smiled, then stared into the cup. “I think I’d better strain this.” She took the sieve from the shelf and drained the posset back into the pan, then once more into the cup.
“That’s better,” Mama said.
“Shall I come up with you?” I asked her.
“No, Claire is calmer when it’s just me.”
“Will you be long?”
“It depends if she wants to talk a while. Are you jealous?”
“No, Mama. I just … it’s just we told George Symons we’d find the gold. He’ll be here soon, won’t he?”
Mama held up the pot. “We already have treasure. I’m queen of the kitchen and we are dry and warm with a roof over our head. Do we need more?”
Yes, Mama. There is a boy with a bag full of brown beads and the bag is getting heavier and fuller. He only has to open his mouth and they will come for you.
But how could I tell her this when I knew that her happiness could crack any time?
I said, “This is good for now, Mama, but it might not be for ever.”
“Nothing is for ever, Eve. But do we want to test God’s patience and be greedy with our luck?” She wrapped a cloth round the hot cup and took a spoon from a jar. “Instead of questioning our destiny, please go and scour the pots. I promised the widow they would be done by the time she returned.”
Perhaps Mama was right. Perhaps luck flowed through our lives like water through the conduits. If you tried to draw more than your fair share of water, there’d be a washerwoman standing behind you ready to poke you hard in the back and toss you aside. We didn’t want our luck to turn on us. But – what if there was a real chance of something better?
I went out into the yard. A stack of plates and pots was waiting to be scoured. These weren’t just from yesterday. Mama and the widow must have been saving them for a while. I picked up a large, misshapen pot. The bottom was so burnt it looked like the widow had been making charcoal in it. A couple of plates were crusted with gravy so old it was almost part of the design. How was I going to get this off? Back in Southwark, I’d seen Mama use sand or horsetail she’d picked from the fields by Broadwall. I poked around the yard and checked in the kitchen. I could see neither sand nor horsetail.
Where could I find horsetail? I laughed to myself. On the common, of course! I was sure I’d seen goats nibbling it there. And I could go down on to the mudflats to get sand and small stones to bring back for the hard scrubbing. I wouldn’t even have
