In the days that follow, Amon and Clove become great friends. It is funny to see a giant boy and a small girl so connected. Together, they play with Dodger. Fetch. Sit. Stay.
Amon gets into the habit of giving Clove the last bite of his food. She uses his big arm as a pillow when she sleeps. They are like salt and pepper. Very different, yet they go together very well.
Amon’s wounds mend quicker than I expect. The Thieves Oil heals him, no doubt.
I suggest we clear all the rocks, pebbles, sticks, and weeds from a bigger space under the bridge. Dodger helps by chasing rats away.
We are all safer together.
I manage to rob another plague house on my own — using the Thieves Oil as protection, of course. I steal a man’s shirt for Amon and some handkerchiefs. This time, I don't see the man dressed in the black crow costume anywhere. Perhaps he has caught the Plague himself.
“Steal a fishing rod next time. I know how to fish,” Amon says to me.
“I think it’s a little early for you to go to the docks for fishing,” I say. “The scrapper might be looking for you.”
“Down in the river,” Amon points to the water below the bridge, “there’s bound to be carp. Maybe perch and pike too.”
“Mm … Cooked fish!” Clove licks her lips.
“Okay, I’ll keep an eye out for a fishing rod,” I promise.
“Since we are talking about what we can do,” Elizabeth says, “there is something I can do to contribute.”
“Do you have an apple in your pocket?” Clove exclaims.
“No, Clove,” Elizabeth laughs. “Amon has the apple pockets!”
We all laugh at the idea of apple pockets.
“If you two,” Elizabeth looks at Amon and myself, “keep an eye on Clove during the day, I can go to work.”
“As a lady’s maid?” I ask. “All the rich folk have left.”
“As a washerwoman,” Elizabeth says. “At the pesthouse.”
“What’s a pesthouse?” Amon asks.
“A pesthouse is a new kind of hospital. For people who are sick with the Plague,” Elizabeth says. “The City Corporation was building it just as her ladyship was leaving. It should be up and running by now. It’s on the west side of the city.”
“What would you do there?” I ask with concern.
“I can be a washerwoman. Someone to wash the sheets, pillowcases … that sort of thing. I couldn’t take the job because of Clove. But she’s safe with you to watch her. It’s one of the only paying jobs left in the city for a woman. I’m sure they would take me.”
“But you could get sick,” I say.
Clove and Amon look concerned too.
“No, no. I won’t be around sick people. I’m no nurse or doctor, you know that. No, I’d only be washing the sheets. You can’t get sick from sheets and pillowcases,” Elizabeth says confidently.
“And it means no more thieving for you, Rose,” Elizabeth says directly to me. “I am the adult. And this is what is best for all of us. Our little family.”
Amon, Clove, and I smile. We are a little family now.
I take out the bottle of Thieves Oil from my pocket and offer it to Elizebeth. “Take this and put it on a cloth to use as a mask. It will protect you from the Plague.”
Elizebeth shakes her head no. “I don’t need it. I won’t be near the sick people,” she says.
Reluctantly, I put the bottle back in my pocket.
“Of course, we can watch Clove,” I say. Amon puts his big arm around Clove and pulls her into a hug.
“That’s settled, then. I’ll go right away,” Elizabeth replies.
“Can we go with you, Mama?” Clove asks.
“No,” I say immediately. “You, Amon, and I are not going anywhere near any pesthouse.”
Over the next few weeks, Elizabeth works at the pesthouse. She leaves early in the morning and comes back late in the evening. She is always very tired but does earn a good wage.
She tells us, “I didn’t realize how much harder it is to work as a washerwoman. Much more work than being a lady’s maid. First, I scrub the sheets in a bucket of water with a scrub board. Sometimes we have soap. Other times we just use lye for the washing. Then, I wring the sheets out by hand and hang them to dry.”
“Should I go back to thieving?” I ask. “So, you don’t have to work so hard?”
“I earn four shillings a week now,” Elizabeth says proudly. “I only earned two shillings as a lady’s maid. We can live on four shillings a week.”
She starts to sleep uphill from us. Another of the washerwomen told her it was best to separate from family in case she was carrying the sickness, which of course she wouldn’t be, because she was just touching the sheets and not the people. Her hands are red and raw from scrubbing and wringing.
“Mama, I miss you” Clove whimpers as she goes to sleep.
“And I miss you, my love.” Elizabeth replies from up the hill. “Don’t you fret now, I can see you. Can you see me looking at you?”
“Yes, I see you,” Clove answers.
“I’m here, sweetheart,” Elizabeth says. “Go to sleep now.”
Clove settles in between Amon and me on the ground, then falls asleep.
One afternoon, Elizabeth doesn’t come home. Night falls and she still doesn’t come back. We all feel worried but Amon and I make up excuses for her lateness so Clove does not overly fret.
“Maybe she has extra work today” I say.
“Just extra work,” Amon says to back me up.
Clove nods in agreement. “Extra work.”
Eventually, Clove snuggles up in Amon’s arms and falls asleep. Amon and I take turns keeping watch for Elizabeth.
“You sleep first,” I say to Amon. “I’ll wake you when I’m tired.”
“Promise you’ll wake me,” he says.
“I’ll wake you,” I assure him.
A few hours later, I hear Elizabeth whispering my name from the top of the bridge.
“Rose … Rose …”
I walk up the hill to the top of the bridge. There is no one on the road except for Elizabeth.
“Stay back!” she warns as I approach. Her hair is messy and wet against her forehead. She looks like she has a fever. Her face is pale. She holds her hands out, motioning that I should not come closer.
“Elizabeth?” I am already guessing at her condition. She holds down her collar. She shows her neck. It looks like there’s a chicken egg under her skin.
“No,” I whisper. “Elizabeth! No!”
My heart tears apart. She has the symptoms of the Plague.
“Do you have your oil?” she asks.
“Yes,” I answer quickly. I reach down and pull the bottle out of my pocket. “Take it! Put a few drops on a cloth and hold it to your mouth and nose.”
“No, Rose,” she says. She begins to cough. Just like my father did. My mind shifts back to seeing the blood drops on Father’s cloth. I push my mind to the present. This cannot be happening. Not to Elizabeth.
“Take the oil. It can help you,” I urge her. But I know I’m wrong. The oil won’t cure the Plague. It can only protect against it.
“Keep that oil safe! You keep that oil safe for you and …” She hesitates and looks down the hill to where Amon and Clove are sleeping. Tears begin to fall down her cheeks.
I feel panicked.
Elizabeth puts her hand in her pocket. She produces four shillings and throws them in my direction. The coins fall onto the dirt at my feet.
“Don’t touch them!” she warns. “Don’t let your skin touch them. Clean them with the oil.”
“Elizabeth, I don’t care about the coins. Clove needs you. We need you!”
“No, Rose. The Plague Doctor examined me at the pesthouse this afternoon. Nothing will help me now.” She looks down the hill, knowing her Clove is below.
What is a Plague Doctor? I wonder.
“I know you will take care of my daughter,” Elizebeth cries. “The Plague Doctor assures me. I am past helping.” she coughs into her hand. I see blood on it when she takes it from her mouth.
“The Plague Doctor is wrong,” I say while stepping toward Elizabeth. She takes two steps back to create distance between us. She holds out her arms in a stopping motion — just like my father did on the day he told us he had the Plague.
“He is right, Rose. Please understand me. I’ve seen the sick people at the pesthouse. We know more about the sickness now. You can get it from the sheets. The pillowcases. Touching anything that someone with the Plague has touched.” She looks down at her fingers. “This is how it begins. There is no cure — not even your oil.”
“No, Elizabeth,” I say, crying. I cannot lose another mother.
“Listen to me, child. Are you listening?” she asks.
I nod yes.
“Wash everything. The cloth you use as a mask. Your clothes. Wash everyone’s clothes. Clean it all. Wash your hands as often as you can …”
She looks as if she has just realized something.
“Oh lord, you don’t have soap! Why didn’t I think to bring soap from the pesthouse?” she reprimands herself.
Then, she continues with urgency. “Keep your distance from others. Don’t go near the pesthouse. And stay out of those bloody plague houses! Do you hear me?! Do not take one more step into a plague house, Rose! Steal from anywhere else. The docks, the bakery, a bloody farm! Anywhere but a plague house.”
“Yes, Elizabeth,” I sob. “But let me wake Clove. She needs to see you.” I think of Mother, and how I wasn’t allowed upstairs to see her in her final days.
“Absolutely not. She cannot come near me. And I can’t let her see me like this. Let her remember me as I was.”
I realize, in this instant, this is what Mother and Father did for me. For us. They protected Lem and me as best they could from seeing them at their worst.
“Where will you go?” I ask.
“Back to the pesthouse. They want the sick to stay together so it doesn’t spread to other people,” Elizabeth explains.
“I would have taken care of you all your life,” she says. “Like you were my own.”
“I know.”
“Take care of them, Rose. You take care of Clove and Amon.”
“Yes, Elizabeth,” I whisper back.
She takes another two steps back and looks down the hill to where Clove is sleeping, then turns and walks away. I cry as I watch her go off into the distance.
Eventually, I pull out the oiled cloth from my pocket and use it to pick up the four shillings. I sprinkle Thieves Oil over top of them. I rub the coins with the oily cloth to clean them.
I walk back down the hill. Amon and Clove are sleeping peacefully. I lie awake for the rest of the night looking at the stars in the sky. I wonder if Mother and Father are watching me from heaven or the stars.