The Untamable Rogue (16 page)

I
stretched lazily
and yawned. I was cold. If only I had brought a shawl with me. I was hungry, too. I had no idea what was going to happen from this point on. It was against my better judgement to steal food. I had a really bad conscience about the cheese from the previous night. I had no money, nor my jewellery. Now I was really in trouble. Whatever should I do? I could not go back to the gypsies, even if I could find my way back. I never wanted to set eyes on Ivo again. I could not bear to see him with his
wife
. The thought of that made me feel totally wretched.

Slowly I got up out of the hay and began to remove the stalks from my hair and clothes. Suddenly the door of the barn swung open and an elderly man came in with a jug and a basket.

“Good morning. I thought you might like a little …,” said the man and stopped abruptly when he saw me. “Well, my goodness! So there are two of you? I had no idea. I thought the boy was alone.”

I started in shock and looked the old man in amazement.

“Boy? Two of us? I don’t understand.”

Now the man was also looking bewildered.

“You’re not with the young man who knocked at my door last night to ask for somewhere to sleep?”

I shook my head in confusion. What did that all mean?

“Hm. Did you not see him? He spent the night here, too.”

Again, I shook my head.

“Well, he will have set off earlier. That’ll be how come. Are you hungry? I wanted to bring the boy something to eat, but as he’s no longer here and as you …”

The man held the basket and the jug out to me – both covered in a cloth. He noticed my hesitation and simply pushed the basket and the mug into my hand.

“Take it. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

“Thank you,” I said, ashamed.

“That’s OK.”

With these words he turned away and left me alone.

The unexpected breakfast consisted of a rasher of bacon, two thick slices of bread, a piece of hard cheese, boiled eggs and cool cider. I felt my spirits re-awaken. With my strength replenished I felt a lot better straight away. However, what was unsettling me was the thought of the mysterious man who had spent the night in the barn with me. Hopefully it was not one of my uncle’s thugs. The thought that I had not been alone here in the night made me feel uneasy. What awful things could have happened if the man had discovered me? I had to take a lot more care in future. I had been incredibly lucky. Who knew if I would be so lucky next time? After some consideration I decided that I would travel to London. Perhaps I could get support from my father’s employees – now they were actually my employees. We somehow had to manage until I came of age.

T
he hustle and
bustle had never been to my liking. I disliked still more the smog that hung heavy and damp in the air and reduced the sunlight to a minimum. It was shortly after sunrise but despite the earliness of the hour, and the smog, numerous street sellers were out and about offering their goods. I had completed the rest of my journey on a farmer’s cart – with his daughter he was bringing his goods to London to sell. I had no money, of course, for a train or a stagecoach. Also I had had to spend further nights in barns, rather than in a comfortable inn – and one could tell that from the condition of my dress; it was stained and crumpled – it was, after all only a simple dress made of coarse material that I had been given by the Sinti. Shortly before reaching London we had turned into a yard for a rest – it belonged to the brother-in-law of the farmer that I was travelling with. After having something to eat I washed my face and hands as well as I could with a bowl of warm water and some simple soap that the lady of the house had given me, and I did my hair again.

“So, girl. Unfortunately I’ll have to set you down here. Will you manage alone?”

“Yes, thank you very much. I have a cousin who lives near here,” I lied, and climbed down from the cart. I tried not to allow my uncertainty to show. I was not quite sure where I was. Previously I had only ever travelled through such parts of the town and had not taken any notice of the area. It was not the sort of area where a lady from the better circles stopped, let alone set foot outside the stage-coach.

“OK, then. Good luck, girl!”

I nodded, tensing my shoulders.

“Thank you. Good bye!”

The cart set off and I watched him until he disappeared into the smog. I was shivering. It was cold and damp and my dress clung damply to my body. It was better to keep moving, I thought, but in which direction should I go? I thought the west end lay to my left. My goal was one of my father’s jewellery shops. It was the first and biggest of the three branches and was situated in Bond Street. I hoped that old Mr Porter was still working there. I had known him since I was a child and I was sure that he would help me.

“Mince pies! Fresh Mince pies!” someone was shouting behind me. “Fresh mince pies, perhaps?”

A girl of about ten years old appeared at my side with a basket full of delicious smelling pies and looked at me hopefully. Most of the street sellers were children, most of whom tried to sell their wares to any man or woman from early in the morning to late into the evening. They were not allowed to go home until they had sold all their wares. I would have gladly bought a pie from the child: firstly because I would have liked to help the child; and secondly because I was hungry and the pies smelt simply delicious.

“Unfortunately I have no money on me,” I said and looked apologetically at the child.

The girl shrugged her shoulders in disappointment and moved on.

“Mince pies! Fresh mince pies! Buy fresh pies! Mince pies!”

I watched the child. I thought involuntarily about the Sinti children. The Sinti were simple-living people, too, who did not own very much, but they lived a more carefree life and their children did not have to work for twelve hours or more every day like the children here. It was even worse for the children who worked in the factories.

“Watch out!” someone shouted and I startled. Someone grabbed me by the arm and yanked me backwards so that I almost lost my balance and fell. I banged back into the person who had grabbed me. I screamed in shock. A stage-coach raced directly passed me and I screamed again. With a pounding heart I stood there and tried to work out what had happened.

“That ‘ere close,” said the person who was still holding my arm. I turned round slowly and stared at the woman who now let go of my arm and smiled apologetically. “Scuse me for grabbin’ y’ like that, but y’ nearly ran into the coach. Y’ wasn’t watchin’ out, was y’? Oh well, no ‘arm done.”

“Th-thanks … was just thinking of something …, if you hadn’t been there …”

“It’s OK! Not worth mentionin’. The name’s Molly – wha’ about you?”

“Liz.”

“You new ‘ere? ‘Aven’t seen you b’fore an’ I knows each an’ ev’ryone ‘ere.”

I nodded.

“Lookin’ f’ work? I can ‘elp y’. I knows a few important people.”

“No!” I shook my head and added, by way of explanation: “I’m not looking for work and I don’t want to stay here. I have to find someone but I don’t know how to get to the west end. Can you tell me in which direction …”

“The west end, hm?” Molly interrupted. “Y’re lost, hm? The west end is not f’ the likes of us. Posh folk, there.”

“I know someone who works in Bond Street and I have to get to him. Can you tell me how I can get to Bond Street or tell me who else could help me?”

“Suga’, if I can’t ‘elp y’ then no one can, believe me. I’ll ‘elp y’. Come on. We need t’ go t’ Freddy.”

Molly turned to go and indicated that I should follow her, which I did. It was difficult to keep up with Molly, who rushed straight through the crowds and changed direction here and there.

Freddy was a young, reckless-looking lad of about twenty five. The left-hand side of his face was disfigured by old, healed burn marks. Where the left eye should have been he had only a scarred eye socket. Molly had already forewarned me about his appearance on the way to see Freddy and she had told me his story. As a child he had cleaned chimneys – a dangerous job and it cost the lives of many children every year. Freddy had an accident when the chimney that he was in suddenly began to burn, as a draught ignited the embers. His left side, and particularly his face, were so badly burnt that he had been laid out on the street to die. But the boy had survived and taken up his job as a chimney sweep again until he grew too big for it.

The room in which we met Freddy was dirty and in it was only a low bed with a few blankets and a chair on which Freddy was sitting, smoking a pipe. Molly told him about my situation and Freddy looked at me the whole time, uninhibited. His appearance was sinister. His remaining eye was pale and without eyelashes. It looked like the cold eye of a fish.

“Hm,” he said, when Molly had finished. I stood around, a bit lost, feeling very uncomfortable. Outside the door two people were arguing very loudly about the agreed price for sex and another woman’s voice was bellowing at both of them to be quiet. This was easily the worst place that I had ever been in.

Freddy stretched out his arm and knocked on the door. Immediately a small, thin man with greasy hair entered the room.

“Yes, boss?”

“Gino,” was all that Freddy said and the man disappeared.

I looked at Molly questioningly and she just shrugged her shoulders, and so we waited to see what would happen. This Freddy was not exactly a talkative chap. It seemed to me an eternity before someone eventually knocked on the door and a boy timidly slipped in.

Freddy explained to the boy, who I would estimate to have been at most five or six, where I wanted to go, and the boy nodded.

“Come on,” was all he said and disappeared through the door.

I looked at Molly, clueless. 

“Go with him. He’ll take you where you want to go.”

“Th-thank you,” I murmured to both Molly and Freddy and I followed the boy who was waiting impatiently for me outside.