‘In that case, I’m sorry that I’m trespassing, but I was cold and it was getting late.’
‘It’s no sin to come here, lassie. If you give me one of them coppers of yours, I’ll even let you come nigh the fire.’
So she had checked what was in my bundle then.
‘Thank you, mother, that’s very kind of you.’ I felt in my bundle and drew out the purse. It was a shilling short.
‘I took a wee coin for the night’s lodging,’ Old Jean chuckled.
A shilling was a lot of money for a hard floor and a patchy roof over my head, but I was in no position to argue.
‘I’ll stay where I am,’ I said with regret. ‘I really can’t afford any more.’
‘Suit yourself, lassie,’ she said with a disappointed frown. ‘You get some sleep now. I’ll make sure nae one disturbs you – that’s worth a shilling at least.’
The remainder of the night passed uneasily. I had no doubt that Old Jean saw me as a welcome source of income. She had designs on the rest of the purse, but I could not let her strip me of every penny as my own future was as uncertain as hers. I slept curled round my bundle, and was mighty relieved to see the dawn.
‘Breakfast, my chick?’ Old Jean asked as I rose, offering me an oatcake.
I shook my head – that was bound to be a penny at least. ‘Thank you for your hospitality, mother. I wish you good day.’
‘A fine-spoken lassie like you mun be able to spare me another shilling,’ she begged, struggling to her feet and holding out a scrawny hand. ‘I dare say a lassie like you has a few guineas at least sewn into her bodice.’
If only.
‘I swear I don’t, mother.’ Holding the bundle in front of me to protect myself from her groping fingers, I moved rapidly to the door, sensing that her mood was changing. She gave a shrill whistle. Two rough-looking lads bounded into the hut through a hole in the back wall like a pair of eager hounds.
‘At her, my lads!’ Old Jean croaked. ‘I’ll wager me tooth that she’s got more about her than in that wee pursie.’
I was out the front like a rabbit bolting from a hole. Hitching up my skirts, I ran towards the road. The clumsy clogs hampered me. One came off in a rut, the other I abandoned. Unlike my pursuers, I had the advantage of a few weeks of good food courtesy of Westminster School. I sprinted as fast as any boy and spotted a cart. It was driven by a milkman, returning from his deliveries in the city. Vaulting the fence, I jumped up beside the startled dairyman.
‘Please protect me!’ I gasped. ‘They’re trying to rob me.’
The man turned in his seat and saw the two skinny boys scrambling over the fence. He flicked his long whip at them.
‘Be off with you, you rascals,’ he said. ‘And tell Old Jean that if she sends you after any more girls, I’ll send the beadle after her.’
Like dogs called off by their master, the boys wheeled around and bounded back the way they had come, all the while yelling obscenities over their shoulder.
‘And you, young miss, should learn not to mix with the likes of Old Jean,’ he said with a shake of his head. ‘Don’t go accepting shelter from anyone you don’t know.’
‘I didn’t, sir. I found her place empty and needed somewhere to sleep the night,’ I said, still panting, ‘but thank you.’
‘That’s all right, miss. Now, where you be going so early?’
‘To Clapham.’
He dug into his apron and pulled out an apple. ‘Well, you stay where you are and break your fast with me. I’m going that way and it’ll save those bare feet of yours to sit up here.’
‘How much will it cost, sir?’ I asked tentatively. ‘You see I don’t have much money.’
‘Nothing.’ I must have looked surprised for he laughed. ‘It was a rare treat to see you outrun Old Jean’s beagles and leap the fence like a champion in a steeplechase – that’s payment enough for Elias Jones. Now where did a girl like you learn to do that, eh? That’s what I want to know.’
‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,’ I replied with a shake of my head. I took the apple. ‘Thank you, Mr Jones, I gladly accept your offer.’
Mr Jones dropped me at the edge of Clapham Common and I headed into the village. Clapham was a strange place these days, its rural centre surrounded by the stylish villas of rich incomers who were building all around the edge of the Common. Now farmers mixed with sea captains and members of parliament. I wasn’t sure exactly where I was going, but I knew how I would tell if I had found the right place. I walked past the church – a lively matins was in progress with bells ringing – no good. I went up to the door of a chapel and found the Methodists singing hymns with gusto. That wasn’t it. Finally I found what I was looking for: a small, simple building set back from the road. It was completely silent – only the open door indicated that the worshippers were present for their early morning meeting. I slipped in at the back and took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the gloom. There were only a few people present so I moved to an empty chair in the circle and waited.
The hush was so complete that I began to notice even the smallest movements. For example, I knew the exact moment that Miss Miller senior noticed my presence from the sharp intake of breath. Miss Prudence gave away her consternation by the clasping and unclasping of her hands. In a flutter, Miss Fortitude dropped her handkerchief. I knew what they were thinking: Drury Lane had invaded the Quaker Meeting House and they were desperate that no one else should notice.
An elderly man stood up. ‘I feel moved by the Spirit to speak,’ he said in a sonorous voice. ‘I sense that some of my sisters are oppressed in spirit and need to be reminded to cast their cares on the Lord.’