Chapter 6
I decided we’d walk around St. Paul’s, putting us out of sight of the constable on Cheapside, before I tried to find a hansom to take us to Portobello Road.
As we climbed aboard one waiting in the queue in Ludgate Hill, I thought I spied James lurking about, but I couldn’t be certain. He was even better at hiding himself than Daniel was.
“May I tell Hannah about our move to Basingstoke?” Grace asked me as the cab jerked into motion.
“Of course,” I said. “She is interested in all you do. But no begging her to take you in, mind.”
“No, Mum.” Grace answered without resentment and heaved a little sigh. “It was a mad idea.”
“I would rather you stay in London near me, love, more than anything. But it is impractical at this time,” I made myself say. If I repeated this often enough, I might believe it.
“I know.” Grace went glum. “Will they really send Uncle Daniel to Newgate? He could never have killed that man.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” I said decidedly. “And no, he did not kill him. That I am certain of.”
Mr. Grimes possibly could have, I knew, but I did not voice this to Grace, who was fond of the man. Besides, I could think of no reason why he would.
Unless Mr. Banks’s news was something that could hurt Mr. Grimes somehow? Mr. Grimes and Daniel had been lads on the streets together—did Mr. Banks know something that Mr. Grimes did not want Daniel to know?
It seemed unlikely. I was grasping at straws, which was maddening. I really must have a look at Mr. Banks’s rooms.
Portobello Road held a market most days, though it truly came alive on Saturdays. The bulk of the vendors sold produce, meat pies, and fresh-baked breads, one with tarts, tea cakes, and pastries that looked nowhere as good as mine.
Other vendors sold secondhand clothing or fabric—I’d purchased the cloth for the gown I wore now from one of them.
Still other booths carried sundries and trinkets, which is what my friend Hannah Dunnett peddled near the top of the hill.
“Katie, me old darling.” The greeting rang from a lady with a pile of very black hair under a worn, feathered hat.
She came to her feet with a swing of skirts and rested her hands on her full table.
“Was hoping I’d see you today. And you’ve brought your darling daughter. How are you, Grace, me love?”
“Very well, thank you,” Grace returned with a grin. “Are things selling nicely?”
Hannah wrinkled her nose. “Not as much as I’d like today, but it’s a wet Thursday afternoon.”
“I bet you’ll be in clover on Saturday,” Grace told her with conviction.
Usually, Grace was deferential to adults outside the family, having learned to utter quiet politenesses and then be silent.
Grace had, however, soon recognized Hannah’s good-natured and arbitrary sort of kindness, and swiftly taken to her, as Hannah had to Grace. Only a few months into their acquaintance, Grace spoke to and of Hannah as though she were one of the family.
“Ain’t you sweet to say so.” Hannah leaned over the table and dropped a penny into Grace’s gloved hand. “Why don’t you go off to Mrs. Becket’s table and see if she has a dolly you want, and I’ll have a chat with your mum.”
“I’m too old for dollies,” Grace said, trying to hand the coin back.
“Then go down the hill and get a bag of sweets I’ll talk your mum into letting you have.” Hannah winked at Grace, who closed her hand over the penny in delight.
“Do enjoy yourself,” I told Grace. “But not too many sweets, mind, and be prudent in your choices.”
Grace nodded, paying scant attention to my little speech, and hurried away. I did not worry about her too much, as I’d by now met many of the vendors and knew they’d keep their eyes on her.
“I have something of a favor to ask you,” I said as soon as Grace was out of earshot.
Hannah’s dimples showed. “You want me to look after Grace for a bit? While you rush about with your man? I don’t mind at all. You need a bit of privacy with him, I’m thinking.”
My face heated. “No, nothing like that—”
Hannah’s teasing tone vanished. “I really do need to speak to ya, Katie, so I’m glad you’ve turned up.
The space for that stall is going to go if you don’t nab it.
Those who hand out the spaces need your scribble on a paper and ten shillings.
Then it’s yours. Otherwise, they have others who want it and will snatch it up. ”
“Oh.” While I truly was interested in tending a market stall at least one day a week to see if I could actually sell anything, I was not prepared to commit myself so quickly.
In light of Grace leaving London and now Daniel getting himself arrested, my thoughts were far from any entrepreneurial measure. “Ten shillings?”
“If you don’t have the funds, I can scrape something together for you, and you’ll pay me back.” Hannah regarded me seriously. “It’s not easy getting a space here, Katie. If you don’t act, others will.”
“Blast and damn.” I said this under my breath, but a hint of Hannah’s smile returned.
“My, my, I never thought I could rile you so. Especially when I’m trying to help you instead of nicking something in front of you.”
“Forgive me.” I drew a breath and shook my head. “I have many things on my mind, and I was not prepared to add another. I have much to tell you.”
Hannah gestured to her side of the table. “Then step around here, and we’ll have a good natter.”
I skirted the table to the chair she indicated for me.
The seat had obviously been made for lounging on the shingle in a seaside town and was very low to the ground, but I managed to wedge myself in.
Hannah plopped herself into another low-slung chair, leaned back, and propped her feet on a wooden stool.
“I’m curious to know what’s got you bothered,” Hannah said. “Did you and McAdam have a barney?”
“No, not an argument.” I waved her to silence. “He’s been arrested.”
Hannah’s mouth popped open. “Arrested?” she exclaimed in a quiet voice, darting a glance around us. “Oh, you poor darling. What’s he done?”
“Nothing. Let me explain.”
I launched into my tale of Mr. Banks and Daniel, ending with my hope to go to Southwark and discover what I could.
Hannah listened with surprise that quickly turned to sympathy.
“Course he didn’t do it,” she said when I finished.
“He ain’t the sort who would. I’ll help you search, Katie, don’t you worry.
You take Grace home and meet me at the north end of Blackfriars Bridge at four o’clock.
We’ll give Mr. Banks’s rooms a going-over in plenty of time for you to nip back to your kitchen, where you work too hard for too little. ”
“Thank you.” I was too relieved she was going to help to continue our disagreement about me cooking for a living.
I heaved myself out of the seat with some difficulty.
“If it will assuage you, tell whoever is in charge here to make up the papers for me, and I’ll return on Monday to sign them and hand over some hard-earned shillings. ”
Hannah launched herself up with enviable litheness. “You won’t regret working for yourself, Katie, mark my words. Here’s Grace.” She turned to my daughter with a wide smile. “What did you indulge in, my love?”
“Cream cakes.” Grace drew out a bag. “Four a penny. One for you, Hannah. One for Mum and me, and I can take one home to Aunt Joanna.”
“Aw, ain’t she sweet?” Hannah accepted the profiterole Grace handed her and bit into it, smearing cream on the tip of her nose. “It’s excellent, but I wager yours are better.” She sent me a pointed look.
“I think so too, but they are still nice,” Grace said generously. “Did Mum tell you I’m leaving for Basingstoke?”
Hannah had taken another large bite, and now she coughed, cream staining her lips.
“No, she did not.” Hannah glared at me as she swallowed. “Why in the name of the good Lord do you want your daughter to go to Basingstoke? I don’t even know where that is.”
While Grace explained to the amazed Hannah, I nibbled my profiterole, noting the pastry was a bit dry and the cream too runny. Yes, I needed to begin my stall as soon as I could to provide the punters of Portobello Road with much better fodder.
* * *
As the clocks were striking four, I arrived at the north end of Blackfriars Bridge.
The bridge, a wide and formidable structure, stretched its large iron arches across the Thames. The Fleet River emptied somewhere under my feet, its final exit to the larger river covered over by the relatively new road that led from the end of Blackfriars Bridge up into the City.
The railroad bridge ran alongside the one for foot and horse traffic, its iron span a narrow ribbon compared to the wide avenue that would carry me to Southwark this day.
At the moment, I was less enchanted with the bridge’s architecture and the sculptures of waterfowl carved on it and more concerned that fog shrouded its southern end. Also that Hannah was nowhere to be seen.
She’d been annoyed with me for not telling her straightaway that Grace was leaving London. I mollified her only slightly by explaining that Grace had wanted to tell Hannah herself.
Hannah had not been as impressed as I had been about Sam’s new post.
“Always the way, ain’t it?” she’d said. “The man has a bit of luck, and the womenfolk have to give up everything for him. It’s why I threw over my last bloke, who wanted to sell up and roam to the ends of the earth, with me following him about and looking after him, if you please.
So I bought him out and now do what I like. ”
At least Grace had not blurted out her idea to stay in London and live with Hannah. She seemed to have given up the scheme, though I’d still spied an obstinate light in Grace’s eyes as we’d journeyed back to Joanna’s home.
I wondered if Hannah had been so irritated that she’d decided I could wander about Southwark in the cold and fog on my own. After all, I was letting my daughter travel far from me, when I’d implied not long ago that Hannah ought to keep a better eye on her son.
Being a mother was a complicated venture, I concluded with an inward sigh.