Shakespeare's Globe (7 page)

‘But I am working, Mother.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Tomorrow I am to play a bystander, on stage.’

‘Wonderful.’ She did not sound thrilled. This was hardly surprising as she never liked me being at the playhouse. I wondered, just for a moment, hadn’t Father ever talked to
her about following your heart?

‘You will work better after good hot food,’ she said. ‘Come. Susan longs to see you.’

I fancied I could smell beef stew on her clothing. Suddenly, I yearned for comfort.

‘I’m glad Susan is well,’ I said. ‘I have kept her in my prayers.’

I hadn’t, which made me feel doubly bad.

I found old John Merry and explained where I was going.

‘I’m right glad your mother is back,’ he said. ‘I hope she is not too angry with you.’

‘She is not angry at all,’ I said happily.

Life was good. I was going to have my home again, and I would play my first part in public the very next day.

I called Hoppy and we all three set off for home. The weather was bright and clear. I decided I would pray for good weather on the morrow. If it was too wet, there would be no performance.

As we walked, I noticed grass and weeds growing among the cobbles. ‘What has happened to the road?’ I asked.

‘So many people left London because of the plague that the roads have not been well used,’ replied my mother. ‘Even though the plague is officially over, it does not mean that
it’s not still here.’

I noticed that she carried a pomander of herbs and spices, which she held to her nose whenever the path grew crowded. She was still afraid of catching plague.

I saw more signs of the disease. Houses with windows boarded up against thieves, and doors with red crosses painted on them.

We turned into Little Thames Lane, and I saw smoke rising from our chimney. How good it felt to see our own house! Hoppy’s new home!

Mother opened the door. I stood inside and sniffed familiar smells: fire smoke, food cooking, lavender, and herbs mixed in with floor rushes, crushed beneath my feet. Our rooms
were bigger and airier than Aunt Meg’s, and our furniture shone, whereas hers was roughened wood. Through a room at the back I glimpsed our garden, where everything had grown while we had
been away. Roses had gone wild, rambling over dried-looking bean plants.

I heard a key turn and the clunk of a lock.

I spun round. Mother had locked the door.

She put the key in the pocket she wore inside her kirtle and said in a cold, hard voice. ‘How …
dare
… you!’

‘Wha— what?’

‘How DARE you run away and cause me such agony? I thought my heart would
break
. You disappeared without a word. How … DARE you!’

She thumped the table with clenched fists.

I backed away.

‘Did you give one thought to what your aunt and uncle and I would think? We didn’t know if you had been attacked and left to freeze in a ditch. We didn’t know if you were
murdered. How could you leave like that?’

‘But – but I left a letter,’ I protested. ‘Did you not see it?’

‘What letter? I saw no letter.’

‘It was in pictures,’ I said. ‘It explained where I was going, and it ended with the pictures that said, “I love you”… and I do,’ I added, hoping to
calm her. ‘I left it on the table.’

‘Then whoever picked it up would have assumed it was one of the drawings you always left around the place. I only discovered where you were when we received Master Shakespeare’s
letter.’ She threw a log on the fire. ‘Go and see Susan, then go to your bedroom. There is water there. Wash yourself and put on fresh clothes.’

‘Yes, Mother.’

‘Then come down and help with the cleaning. Spiders and mice have moved in while we’ve been away, and I want neither in this house.’

‘Yes, Mother.’

My sister was fast asleep with a strange curly-haired girl beside her.

‘Who are you?’ I asked.

‘Nelly,’ she said. ‘Your mother’s new maid. You’re Billy.’

I stared at her. ‘I know.’

‘I got to keep an eye on you,’ she said, making both pale eyes round and staring.

I decided she was daft, and turned to Susan. She looked much better than when I saw her last. I stroked her cheek. Her little hand touched mine.

‘Billy,’ she said, and I thought she smiled a little.

When I was clean, I went downstairs. The rest of the day passed in a flurry of brooms and wet cloths and anger in the air.

Finally we stopped for a bowl of stew and fresh bread. It was delicious. When I was full, I tried to start a conversation.

‘How was your journey home, Mother?’

She had calmed, but I could see she was still angry.

‘I will talk to you in the morning,’ she said. ‘Go to bed.’

As I turned towards the stairs I found Nelly sitting on the third step, staring at me.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

‘Keeping an eye on you,’ she replied, and followed me to the door of my room.

‘I hope you can see through wood,’ I said, slamming the door in her face.

Her footsteps faded, then I heard my mother’s footsteps coming closer.

A key turned.

I was locked in!

‘Mother!’ I called. ‘Why have you locked me in?’

‘You ran away,’ she said. ‘You must be punished.’

‘But you’ll let me out in the morning?’ I asked.

There was no reply.

‘Mother!’ I said frantically. ‘The play 1s tomorrow!’

She’d gone. I sat on the bed with my head in my hands.

The next thing I heard was scuffling at the door, then Nelly’s spiteful voice whispered, ‘No plays for you.’

I slept in fits and starts. It was so unfair. I was only trying to do what my father and Will Shakespeare did – to follow my heart. But always something stopped me.

I understood, I truly did, why Mother didn’t want me to mix with players. She thought they were bad people. Well, some of them do drink too much, and sometimes they are unkind to their
lady friends, but they all love poetry and plays. There would
be
no plays without people like Will Shakespeare and Richard Burbage. They are from good, hard-working families and Master
Shakespeare could not write such beautiful words if he was a bad man.

They cannot be so terrible if a queen and a king have had them play in their palaces.

I couldn’t let my chance slip by again, even if it meant severe punishment afterwards. I would follow my heart, and my heart was leading me to the Globe.

I decided to escape by jumping from my window. The bushes below had grown wild and straggly while we were away. They would cushion my fall. I opened the window to see the drop.

The bushes were there, but so was an enormous brown and black dog, tethered to a post. I knew that dog. Its name was Gruff, and it belonged to the silversmith around the corner. He used it to
keep thieves away.

Mother must have guessed what I might try to do, and borrowed the dog to stop me. It looked up.

‘Grrrr.’

How lucky, I thought, that I am good with dogs.

‘Gruff!’ I called. ‘Gruffy!’

I reckoned if the dog jumped up, I could reach down and pat his head.

I leaned out as far as I dared. He jumped up and I stretched my hand out.

‘Grrrrarrghh!’

He nearly took my hand off! No one could make friends with that great brute.

I sank back on my bed, just as the key turned. The door opened slightly. A plate of bread and cold beef was pushed through the gap, together with a cup of small beer. A pale eye peered at
me.

‘Hee hee, I’m keeping an eye on you,’ said Nelly.

She backed out and locked the door.

There was a dead spider on the beef, with strings of fly-specked web attached. Nelly must have put it there, the spiteful, lump-headed baggage.

I took the meat to the window. Why hadn’t I realized, you have to get a fierce dog to like you before you can be friends? What better way than to feed it?

‘Here, Gruffy!’ I called.

The dog turned its glittering black eyes on me as I held out the beef. He sniffed and jumped up.

I dropped the meat into his open, slobbery mouth.

With one gulp, it was gone.

I tried to pat his head again. ‘Here, Gruff!’

‘Grrrrarrghh!’

Ungrateful animal. I’d lost my breakfast for nothing. Now what?

It was bad enough being forbidden to act in the play but, I realized, what was just as awful was that Masters Shakespeare and Burbage might think I didn’t care enough to turn up and play
my part.

A gentle voice floated through my open window. ‘Hello, Gruff. Why are you here?’

I knew that voice. I flew to the window.

It was Dippity, who does the important needlework for the Globe. She was stroking Gruff!

‘Mistress Dippity,’ I called.

She looked up, smiling. The dog growled, but she rubbed his ears and said, ‘Silly Gruff.’

He quietened.

‘Good day, Billy-Odd-Job,’ she said. ‘I hear you are to play a part today, and Hoppy, too. I am glad for you.’

‘Mistress Dippity,’ I said, ‘Are you going to the Globe?’

Nodding, she lifted the cloth covering her basket. Inside was a bundle of lace.

‘Would you give a message to Master Shakespeare or Master Burbage?’ I asked.

She looked troubled. ‘I do not remember things easily, Billy-Odd-Job.’

‘Can you carry a letter?’ I asked.

‘Oh yes,’ she said.

I took some charcoal and paper and wrote.

Dear Mstr Shakespeare & Mstr Burbage, my mother has locked me in for running away and will not let me out to play my part. I am sorry. It has broken my heart. Please don’t think
badly of me. From Billy.

‘Here,’ I said, throwing it down and praying Gruff wouldn’t eat it. ‘You won’t lose it, will you?’ I was slightly worried. I know she finds many simple tasks
difficult.

‘I won’t,’ she said. ‘See? It is in my hand.’

‘Thank you, Mistress Dippity.’

When she had gone, I lay down on my bed. At least the players would know the truth.

I felt tearful again. Then I must have slept.

Gruff’s furious barking woke me. I heard footsteps outside, and a man’s voice yelling firmly, ‘Down!’

I seemed to recognize the voice, but I dozed off again.

The next thing I knew was the key turning in the lock, and my mother saying, ‘Billy, come downstairs. Now.’

I sat up. She looked hot and flustered.

‘What is it?’

‘Come
now
!’

I followed her downstairs.

Who should be sitting beside the fire, stroking Hoppy, but William Shakespeare!

‘Good evening, sir,’ I said, for I could tell by the light that it was getting late.

While Mother lit some candles, I whispered to Master Shakespeare, ‘Did Dippity—’

He put a finger to his lips and nodded, then said aloud, ‘When you did not turn up today, I wondered if you were ill, Billy. I am glad you are not.’

‘No I—’

‘I have persuaded your mother to forgive you for running away to join the company. She knows that I was minded to do the same thing once.’