The woman frowned, then sighed. “A scrawny chicken will give you a couple of mouthfuls of chewy meat. This poppet will bring you and your daughter good luck for the rest of your long lives. I will take one penny for it, even though that will break me.” She gave me a sad smile. “I want you to have all the luck, young sweetheart.”
I stayed quiet. I was from Southwark. I knew all the tricks.
Mama handed over the penny and the woman passed me the doll. I smiled at her, but she was already hailing new customers. I clutched the poppet to me as we trotted back towards the river. A wind had struck up and it felt like it would bring rain with it.
“We’ll take the bridge,” Mama said.
The tide was high by now. As we approached the river, we could see the wherrymen having to work harder to ferry their passengers from shore to shore. Mama looked up at the darkening sky, then down at the water churning through the piers under the bridge. Downstream even the cargo boats seemed to be trying to shake free from their moorings.
The bridge, though, was truly blocked. A horse had collapsed, tipping over its cart full of barrels. Black, tar-like pitch spilled across the cobbles. Crowds were shouting and trying to push past, without walking in the sticky mess. We tried to find a gap to pass through, but it was impossible. The people heading to London wanted to reach it before the city gates were locked for the night, while those leaving were intent on arriving safely in Southwark while there was light. There are many desperate rogues on our side of the river and few watchmen to stop them.
“The wherry it is,” Mama said. “Let’s be quick before the weather worsens.”
This time there was even more of a jostle for boats. As well as people like us returning home, young men and women were looking to enjoy the theatres and beast-baiting on Bankside. Many of them looked like they’d already been enjoying the ale houses around the fair. Mama used her shoulder to get us to the front, but refused to take the first boat. She said the wherryman looked drunk. The tide was at its highest. We needed steady hands.
A man shoved Mama aside. “Move if you’re not travelling.”
He was tall and I could smell the beer on his breath. It was hard to see his face properly in the twilight. Judging by his clothes, he was far away from being a gentleman.
Mama drew herself up. “I can assure you, sir, we are travelling.”
The man looked Mama up and down. She stared back.
The man nodded. “Please accept my apologies.” He took his purse from his pocket and drew out a handful of coins. “Allow me to pay for your passage.”
He stepped into the wobbling boat and passed the money to the wherryman.
The wherryman studied the coins. “Where to?”
Mama looked from the man to the coins. Was she going to refuse? Mama was always suspicious of strangers.
“Tell him where you want to go,” the man instructed. “The fare is paid.”
“To the church stairs, please,” Mama said.
Mama stepped into the boat and held out her hand to help me in. The boat only had two seats so I settled myself on Mama’s lap. The man who had paid our fare took the other seat. She sat upright, gripping me with one hand and the side of the boat with the other. I felt her flinch every time the boat lurched on the tide.
The boat pushed off and the wherryman set to with his oars. We’d only just left the quay when it felt like the river had reached up, grasped the hull of our boat and was tugging it downstream towards the bridge. Mama gripped me harder as water splashed over us. The other passenger had closed his eyes and was moving his mouth like he was praying. I held my poppet to my chest. If you really are lucky, now is the time to show it.
The wherryman laughed. “Old Father Thames is having a dance tonight.”
“God have mercy!”
The shout came from beside me. The man next to us was sitting upright, eyes staring ahead.
“Starboard! Ahoy!”
Another wherry swerved towards us. I glimpsed the passengers’ terrified faces before it veered away. Our wherryman swore and rowed harder. I knew that if I looked to my left, I’d see the arches beneath the bridge; I could already hear the water gushing through. If your boat was caught in that stream, it was like a monster took hold of you. You were thrown in the air before being sent in to the spinning depths.
We were in the middle of the river now, the rain a slow, steady drizzle that soaked my clothes.
“Stop, boatman! Turn back!” The man was struggling to his feet.
“Please,” Mama said. “Stay seated.”
Her voice was whipped away by the wind. The wherryman shouted something cruder, but the man ignored him.
“Turn back!” the man shouted. “Before you kill us all!”
“Sit down, sir!” Mama held on to me and tried to grab his arm at the same time. The boat lurched and more water slopped over the side. Mama’s nails were digging into my stomach. I tried to breathe, but my chest felt as if it had been hammered so flat, my breathing couldn’t work.
“Return, boatman! Return!” The man lunged towards the wherryman to seize the oar from him.
The boat shook as the wherryman fought him off.
“Stop!” Mama let me go to try and force the men apart.
The boat twisted towards the bridge. Suddenly, I saw not only the arches, but every brick and every crack between every brick. I heard the splash and howl of the water as it shot between the pillars. Then the boat pitched and I hit the water.
No, it hit me.
THE CARPENTER’S TALE
Time stopped. As the river reached up from its bed to drag me down, I heard the children asking
