The Disgrace of Kitty Grey (11 page)

‘Fat chance of finding one of those when you want one,' the stout man remarked. ‘Besides, who is it he's supposed to be looking for?'

‘Go away!' I suddenly shouted – no, screamed – at her, the stout man and anyone else nearby. ‘Just please go away and leave us alone!'

Those close by melted away and Betsy, looking at me in horror, burst into tears of fright. I took a deep breath to try and gather myself, then picked up the rug in one arm, took Betsy in the other and began to make my way to the Golden Cross Inn at the back of the vast square where we were standing. On the way, weaving in and out of carriages, people and horses, we passed three men locked into a pillory, which fascinated Betsy so much that she stopped crying.

We reached the wooden boardwalk outside the tavern and I put Betsy down and tried to catch my breath. Together we looked out upon all the hectic misery that was London.

‘Why are those men locked in that wooden thing?' Betsy asked.

‘I don't know,' I said, too distracted to formulate a proper reply.

‘Why have they got their heads and arms through a hole?'

What was I going to do?

‘Why is one of them crying?'

‘Because they've been very naughty,' I said at last.

‘Why are people shouting at them and throwing stuff – oh, someone's thrown a
cat
at them! That's not very nice, is it? Why have they done that?'

‘Because . . . because . . .' But I started weeping then, and could not answer.

I had no handkerchief, for such things had been in the bag, so had to dab at my eyes with the edge of my sleeve. What to do?
What to do?

Darkness was falling, I had no money and thus could not pay for us to stay anywhere. I had a five-year-old child who was dependent upon me, I had lost my mistress's bag, her money and the addresses and could not fulfil the mission for which I'd been sent to London. Oh, I was surely ruined!

At length, while Betsy still gazed, fascinated, at the poor souls in the pillory, I stopped weeping and began to think of possible remedies to my problems. Would I, perhaps, be able to persuade a hackney-cab driver to take us straight back home and rely on the kindness of Miss Alice to pay my fare when I got there? I shook my head at this: I was not brave enough to ask one of those stern, uniformed men for such a favour, for what might I have to do in return? And supposing Miss Alice would not pay when we got there? Perhaps, then, I could find Will as I'd planned, hand over Betsy and ask him or a member of his family to loan me the fare home. Either way, of course, I would be going back without Miss Alice's precious volumes – and she would be sure to think that I'd stolen the money she'd entrusted to me. Besides, although I could hunt for Will, how long would searching for him take – and what would we do for lodgings and food until we found him?

I heaved an enormous sigh and tried to organise my thoughts. Betsy and I were both very tired, but if we walked towards St Paul's Cathedral then perhaps – if we were very lucky – we might actually find Will, or someone who knew him. If we did not, then . . . then I would pawn the travelling rug to raise enough money to rent a room, and carry on our search for Will the next day. My thoughts ran on: once I'd handed Betsy over to him, I might be able to obtain a live-in job in a dairy for two or three weeks. London wages were the best in the country, everyone knew that, so maybe I could even earn enough not only to pay for my journey back home but to buy Miss Alice's book. Yes, this was definitely the best thing, I thought, and I straightened up, brushed myself down and tidied Betsy. I told her, my voice wobbling only slightly, that I had lost our big bag but we were still going to find Will. That it was going to be all right.

I lifted her up so that she could see over the tops of the carriages. ‘Look. Do you see that big lead dome?' I said. ‘That's the top of this very special church called St Paul's Cathedral. Will lives near there, and that's where we're going.'

Betsy nodded solemnly. ‘And will I have cousins to play with?'

‘Of course,' I said, ‘lots of cousins. And they are town children so you'll be able to teach them all how to make corn dollies.'

I shook out the rug, folded it and put it over my shoulder. It should, I thought, be worth at least three shillings at a pawnshop. I stopped what I was doing for a moment and hesitated: there was something at the back of my mind which was niggling me, but I couldn't quite think what it might be.

All along the Strand it niggled, while we walked on, staring, amazed, at the vast houses and beautiful gardens, at the fashionably dressed ladies going hither and thither in their sedan chairs and carriages, at the men bowing and preening. We went down Fleet Street towards Ludgate Circus and then up the slope to Ludgate Hill, from where we could see the vast, two-tiered, pillared front of St Paul's. We entered an enormous square thronged with peddlers and sightseers and suddenly the whole of the cathedral was visible to us.

Oh, such a place! We just stood and stared and stared at it in awe, and it seemed to me like four churches, built two by two, with, right at the very top, a fifth church, miraculously round, high up in the sky. Upon the leaded dome of this highest church was a golden orb bearing a gold cross.

‘Is that
all
St Paul's Cathedral?' Betsy asked after a long moment.

I nodded. ‘It is.'

‘What is a cathedral?' she asked.

‘It's a church. A very special big church.'

‘And do people go there on Sundays?'

‘If they want to say their prayers, they can go in whenever they like. There are lovely big coloured windows in there, and treasures and wonderful statues.'

‘And does Will go? And can we go in, too?'

I hesitated, looking at the crowds thronging the marble steps and at the people going in and out of the huge carved doors for evensong. I shook my head, for I wouldn't have been brave enough to go through those vast doors into the glittering interior I could glimpse within. ‘I don't think it's for the likes of us,' I said.

‘Why not? Does the King go there?'

‘I believe so. When he is well enough.'

‘I should like to see the King.'

‘He is mad at the moment,' I said – indeed, I couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been mad. ‘But at least you can say you have seen his church.'

And it was then that I realised what had been troubling me since I'd arrived: Will had told me that his family lived in view of the cathedral, but I knew now that that great and magnificent dome, so gigantic, so imposing, could be seen for miles around, both on this side of the river and the other. It had been in view, in fact, ever since we'd entered London. And about how many people might live in this huge area and be able to see at least a part of it? A thousand? Two thousand? No, it must be many, many more. Thousands upon thousands. Maybe that impossible number: a million. For St Paul's, built on a hill, loomed above everything and rose high into the sky to touch heaven. So amidst the teeming hundreds and thousands of people how was I ever going to find Will?

Suddenly, I became perfectly certain that I never would. I was on a wild goose chase and I had brought poor little Betsy along with me.

Shocked, I stopped walking, but Betsy let go of my hand and darted off, running up the sweep of stone steps leading to the doors, so that I had to put thoughts of Will to one side, hitch up my skirts and run after her. The crowds of people were so great, and she so tiny, that I knew she could disappear in an instant.

I caught her just before she went through the doors and insisted that she held my hand. We walked all the way round the outside of the vast structure, but now, cast down, I was not just viewing the wonderful statues and the coloured glass windows telling stories from the Bible, but also seeing the pigeon mess, the dead dog lying on a pile of rubbish and the assorted beggars – lacking a leg, an arm, or with sightless eyes or gruesome sores – sitting on the steps and pleading for alms. Betsy surveyed these beggars with interest and occasionally stopped to stare and ask questions: How does the one with no legs walk? Does the blind one fall over? How can the one with no arms eat? It was getting dark now, though, so after a few moments I hurried her on. Where I was actually going, I didn't know, except that I hoped that somehow I might come across Will or see a mention of his family name. Up and down lanes and alleyways we went, through courts, markets, past taverns, gin shops, rickety lodging houses and churches, with me looking into each person's face and not finding Will's likeness in any of them. As every new passageway came into sight Betsy would set up a plaintive cry of ‘Is it here that Will lives? Is this his house?', until I became too miserable to respond.

As darkness fell, the peddlers began to disappear from the streets and the poorer sorts of shops, unable to afford a penny candle to light their stock, locked their doors. Our feet were beginning to drag, we were hungry and tired, and Betsy demanded to be picked up then set up a wailing when I said I was too weary to carry her. Still I could not think of what I was going to do; I only knew that I couldn't walk around the streets for ever. Forcing myself to make a decision, I went into the next pawnbroker's I came to and asked for some money to be advanced on Miss Alice's rug.

‘It's excellent fur and hardly used,' I said, smoothing it out along the counter. ‘It comes from a very well-to-do, titled family.'

The man behind the counter fetched a lit candle and held it over the rug. ‘And you
borrowed
it from them, did you?'

I looked at him steadily. His face was grimy, his teeth broken and blackened, and his breath so foul that I felt like recoiling in disgust. I reminded myself, however, that I was only going to pawn a rug to him, not walk out with him. ‘No, it was given to me by my mistress,' I said firmly. ‘A titled lady.'

‘Yers, of course it was.' He looked at Betsy. ‘This your little girlie?'

‘No, she's my sister,' I said.

He grimaced. ‘Yers. Of course.'

But I did not care enough about what he thought of me to press the matter. He offered a shilling for the rug, then I asked for five and we haggled for some minutes, for it seemed to be a mark of honour to him that every penny up or down must be negotiated at length. In the end, with Betsy now lying on the grimy counter, asleep, we settled on two shillings and five pence.

‘And could you please tell me if there is a lodging house nearby?' I asked as he counted out the money.

‘Lodging house? They's ten a penny round here,' he said. ‘Mrs Elm is on the corner, Mr Carpenter three doors down, Mrs . . .'

I moved away, out of reach of his breath. ‘And are they quite decent places?'

He smirked, nodding towards Betsy. ‘You don't want anywhere too decent, do you? None of the most respectable places will take a single girlie with a child.'

‘But I told you – she's not mine!' I protested. ‘She's my sister.'

‘Yers. So you said.'

I picked up the money. ‘There is one other thing I'd like to ask,' I said. ‘Are there many watermen around here?'

‘Not here!' he said. ‘The watermen is all on the river.'

‘I know they
work
on the river,' I said, ‘but as it's just nearby I thought maybe some might live around here.'

He shrugged. ‘Who knows? We've got all sorts.' He ticked them off on his fingers. ‘Quacks, peddlers, fruit sellers, washerwomen, drunks, thieves and vagrants.' He tapped his nose. ‘And those without any trade at all who must live by their wits and so will starve to death a little quicker than the others.'

Sighing, I was about to pick Betsy up from the counter when I heard a familiar, beloved sound: the faint mooing of a cow, which somehow calmed and reassured me, for I felt that if London had cows in it, then it could not be all bad.

‘Is there a dairy round here?' I asked the pawnbroker.

‘There's a cow-keeper over yonder,' he said, jerking his thumb backward. ‘Mr Holloway. Down the alley and through the iron gates. None too clean.'

I thanked him, my spirits lifting just slightly. I would not attempt to speak to the cow-keeper now, for I was so tired I knew I wouldn't give a good account of myself. I would wait until the next day, and maybe – if I was lucky – obtain a little work.

Chapter Eleven