“Mistress Primmer, I don’t understand! We have done nothing to you!”
“I trusted you.” She spoke quietly, her words creating mist. Then louder, “I trusted both of you!”
Her fists clenched and I rolled into a ball waiting for the next blow. Her breath was loud and harsh, like she had exhausted herself from her exertion. The quilt dropped back down on to me.
“Get up, Eve,” she said. “Pack your belongings and go.”
“But I have nowhere—”
“Go to your mother in All Hallowes, though her work there won’t last beyond today.” She shook her head. “I should go there now to tell them. By the end of today, everyone in this town will know what your mother is and will condemn her. I’m giving you time to leave.”
Claire was calling out in the next chamber. It was Mama she wanted – not hers, but mine. Widow Primmer took a deep breath and her eyes were full of tears.
“I’m sorry, Eve. You have to go.”
The light disappeared and I heard her unlatch the door to Claire’s room. I lay there for a moment in the darkness. There was a pale edge of light seeping through the slats in the shutter. It was later than I thought. This was my fault. I had believed last night that I was safe and that someone other than Mama cared for me. I had been greedy again. I was lucky to have Mama, I should not have wanted more. I had tried to take too much luck. I ran through my memories. Had we done anything that could have wronged Widow Primmer so badly? Yesterday at the fair, we’d been together laughing and enjoying the spectacle, the May Queen, the acrobat, the tiny rooms, the— Griffin. I’d told him there was no fortune and now we were being turned out.
I pushed away the quilt and felt for my stockings on the chair. I drew them on quickly and slipped my dress straight over my chemise. We had few belongings to pack. I shoved what little I could find in the bag I had brought with me. The new mantle Mama had stitched for me. Mama and I now had spare bonnets and aprons. A chemise Widow Primmer had no longer required and passed on to Mama.
I took one last look at our room. I had moved many times before. This was just like those times. There would be other rooms. I would make myself feel nothing.
“Get out!”
There was a shriek behind me and I froze. A wooden bowl looped over my shoulder and hit the stairs, just missing the cat that was racing past me.
Widow Primmer was standing outside Claire’s room.
“Get that creature out of here!”
The cat hadn’t bothered her before. There was even a tally scratched on the wall of the buttery keeping count of the number of rats he’d caught. I felt eyes on me as I walked downstairs and over to the front door. As I opened it a crack, the cat shot out to the street. I closed the door and turned to face them.
Gina and Griffin were sitting at the same table where we’d enjoyed our supper the night before. Griffin’s hand rested near the greasy smear from the custard bowl. Widow Primmer came down and sat opposite them. Her coif balanced loosely on her unpinned hair. I’d always seen her neat. I’d always known her kind. The fear was building inside me. Gina glanced away from me but Griffin held my eye. The widow must have just set the fire because it hadn’t fully caught. The kindling was flaring up, shooting narrow flames towards the chimney. Griffin’s face flashed dark and light. His expression said nothing.
I wanted to pull Gina away. Whatever had happened, she had no reason to be part of this. She still would not look at me. As I moved towards the table, I saw a small object. It was shaped like a woman, not small enough to live in the miniature rooms, but still not as big as a baby. As I grew closer, I saw that it had a mouth, nose, eyes, even eyebrows. It was dressed in a carefully stitched gown. I remembered sewing those stitches in the hayloft. After I’d finished the ostler’s wife’s sheets, I’d repaired my poppet’s kirtle, sitting by Mama’s side waiting for her sadness to end. I didn’t remember the poppet’s hair like this, though. It was bright red, close to the colour of the strands that poked out from Widow Primmer’s coif. Neither did I remember the pin that was stuck through the poppet’s heart.
I looked at Gina. She was staring at the table.
Widow Primmer poked the poppet with a piece of kindling. It slid across the table towards me. “Is this your poppet, Eve?”
“Mama bought it at Bartholomew Fair,” I said. “But it was not like this.”
Griffin turned to me. Again, he held my gaze. “You travelled with this … thing … from London.”
“Yes, but…”
“It’s as I recounted, Widow Primmer. The plan was made in London.”
I shook my head. “There’s no plan!”
“So you deny it?” Widow Primmer said. “You didn’t make a plan with that sailor cousin of mine to come and seek me out?”
“Yes,” I said. “He said that if we helped care for Claire, you would help us with lodgings.”
Griffin nodded. “As I told you, Mistress.”
Widow Primmer nodded back, then looked at me. “I’m sure your mother knows that witchcraft doesn’t work from afar. You had to come nearer. Did George Symons suggest that too? Use my own daughter against me to win my trust? Then render me so sickly that I’m a prisoner in my own home?”
“Mama is not a witch! We were happy here!”
“But it is not your own home.” It was hard to hear Griffin’s voice above the crack of the sparking wood. “You told my sister that you would do anything to have your
