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Chapter One
COLCHESTER, OCTOBER 1843
With the children tumbling around her and an infant to cradle, Sarah was right at home. Her bedroom had no fireplace but there was a thick rag rug across the boards, which kept out the draughts that came up through the gaps. There were faded curtains pulled across the window, and they helped to keep the room warm as well. What she wanted was her patchwork quilt and other bits and pieces from her friend Betty at Grey Friars House. Should she go round and collect them after she’d got the money from the bank? It would make the place seem more like home.
Home? She mustn’t think like that. She couldn’t stay in Colchester – she’d never get a decent job without references. She had almost ten pounds saved, but it wouldn’t last forever if she wasn’t working. She didn’t want to dip into her nest egg too much – that was for her future. Some of it must be used to find herself decent lodgings whilst she looked for a suitable position. Much better to leave her belongings where they were, let Betty keep them whilst she got on with writing her own references.
She needed to plan her trip to London. If she took a coach she wouldn’t have to walk three miles to the station, but the train only took a couple of hours, not all day to reach the city. Time enough to worry about that when she was ready to leave.
The house slowly quietened. The boys in the attic above her eventually stopped chattering. The church clock striking the hour kept her company during the long, sleepless night. When she left Colchester, as she must, she might never see Alfie again. He’d come back to look for her one day and she’d be gone. Once she was established in a decent position in London it might not be possible to return. She’d be lucky if she got a whole day off a quarter, and that was barely enough time to get to Colchester even on a train, let alone back again.
What was her brother doing at the moment? Was he happy? She prayed he’d had better luck than her, was prospering wherever he was. She rarely thought of her mother and stepfather now. They’d not considered her, so it was best she forgot them. She’d been around a few times to the churchyard and tidied up little Tommy’s grave, put a few flowers in a pot under the simple wooden cross. She wished she could afford to get the stonemason to make him a headstone, but like other poor folk he’d have to make do with what was there.
Mrs Billings had told her she could eat breakfast with the family, or make her own with whatever was in the larder. The bank wouldn’t let her withdraw her funds until the end of next week. That meant she had several extra days to spend in these unaccustomed surroundings. It wouldn’t do to get settled. She must be off in a week or two.
She was determined to say goodbye to Betty before she left, but her friend didn’t have an afternoon off until the end of November, which was nearly a month away. Should she stay until then? She had sufficient money in the bank to pay for her board and lodgings. Keeping herself busy helping out in the house would make time fly by. Mrs Billings didn’t need the room back until January; it was just possible Alfie would reappear before she left.
Downstairs it was cold and dark, the range almost out, the house quiet, apart from the occasional wail from baby Beth Billings. She glanced at the clock in pride of place on the mantelshelf. It was not quite seven o’clock. Good grief! At Grey Friars House she’d have been at work an hour by now. Deciding to get things going, have breakfast ready and the table laid by the time Mrs Billings came down, Sarah set about finding what she needed.
She was used to being up at six, couldn’t understand why people would want to waste the best part of the day lying in bed. Still, Mrs Billings didn’t look too good. This pregnancy was clearly taking its toll on her. Well, after eight children, it was hardly surprising.
Her eyes filled. The mistress at Grey Friars would be having her sixth child in December, but she’d never see the baby, nor the children she’d taken care of for two years. Rich folk thought more about their servants being honest than the feelings of their children.
At last, the range was hot. It was time to put the kettle on and start making the porridge. She’d make some bread, and, if she could find the ingredients, do a batch of buns as well. The dough was proving on the back of the range, the porridge simmering on a hot plate, the table laid and the room swept before the clatter of small feet told her the boys were coming down for breakfast.
* * *
So the pattern of her days was established. Each morning it fell to her to get up first, do all the jobs Mrs Billings ought to be doing. It wasn’t her place to do this, but she liked to be occupied and her landlady was so grateful she hadn’t the heart to complain. Idleness didn’t suit her; action took her mind away from the emptiness of her life. There was no point sending a note to Betty to ask her to meet up – her friend couldn’t read, and there was no one else she could ask to pass on the message. It was too soon to ask the housekeeper for a favour.
No, that wasn’t quite true – the gardener’s boy had a soft spot for her. She was sure if she sneaked round the back and found him he’d get a message to Betty for her. She’d slip up there this afternoon, when Beth was taking her nap. Maybe the boys would like to come? They could run round the castle bailey if the gate was open.
‘I’m going out to take a message to my friend, Ada. Is there anything you’d like me to get you whilst I’m out?’
‘I could do with a few vegetables and perhaps some mutton for a stew. It’s very good of you, Sarah, but it ain’t right you doing all this, not when I should be doing it for you. I’ll not charge you more than a shilling a week in future, just enough to pay for your food.’
‘That would be a great help. I need to save as much as I can. I know I have to leave here when Mr Billings and your boys come back, but I want to have enough to take me to London when I do go.’
She wasn’t planning to stay that long. Whatever had prompted her to say so?
‘That’ll be grand, Sarah love. The baby is due the beginning of January. I would be happier having someone else in the house around that time. The ship’s not due until after that, so if you could stay with me, I would be ever so grateful.’
Sarah nodded. ‘That’s settled then. I’ll pay you a shilling a week for my food, so you won’t be out of pocket and I’ll help out wherever I can. But I need some time for myself. I’m helping out, not working for you.’
‘I know that, love – you’re not my drudge. I hope you’re my friend. I think of you like a daughter already. My twins must be the same age as you. They’d do the same if they was here.’
Taking the boys with her, wrapped up against the biting wind like woolly parcels, she set off for Queen Street, a large basket on her arm.
‘I shall shop on the way back, Charlie. I don’t want to lug things around with me until I have to.’
‘I’ll carry the basket when it’s full, Sarah. Me ma says I must. I’m the man of the house whilst Pa and me big brothers are away.’
He reminded her of Alfie at that age. Her brother would be a man now – two years was a long time when you were still growing. Look at her, she’d turned from a girl to a woman. She noticed men turning to look as she walked past. That hadn’t happened last year. And that Bert Sainty – their old neighbour in Colchester – he’d be eager to fumble under her clothes given half a chance.
After what happened to Jane, she’d steer clear of entanglements, keep her knees together like Betty had said. She smiled. Well, if a handsome young man, with his own house and a regular job should offer for her, she might reconsider. There was a lot to be said for the security of knowing where your next meal was coming from.
‘Charlie, take your brothers and wait for me by the castle. The gates are locked today so you can’t go in, but you can have a good look over the fence. I’ve got to take a message to the place where I used to work. Don’t wander off – promise me now.’
‘We won’t, Sarah. We haven’t been up here this year. Will there be time to walk down to the river before we go home?’
‘I don’t know. The wind’s bitter, and look at those clouds. I think there might be snow coming; it’s a bit soon for that, so I might be wrong. We don’t want to get caught out in a snowstorm do we?’
Leaving the children arguing about the prospect of snow and whether a jaunt to the river was worth the risk of being caught in a blizzard, she hurried down the pathway. She kept the hood of her cloak down over her head in case anyone might recognise her. She slipped round the back, but instead of going to the door she went to the poultry house.
‘Robbie, are you in here?’
The resulting clucks and squawks indicated he was there. ‘Crikey! You don’t want to be caught round here, Sarah. I can’t be seen talking to you.’
‘I’m not staying long. I need a small favour. Could you tell Betty to meet me her on her afternoon off? I’ll wait by the castle. Will you do that for me, for old times’ sake please? I’d be ever so grateful.’
He couldn’t resist, not when she put on her widest smile. ‘Just this once. I don’t dare do it again – not even for you, Sarah Nightingale.’
She bent and kissed him lightly on his grubby cheek. That was reward enough, certainly the only payment he was going to get. With a whirl of skirts she hurried back to find the boys waiting obediently where she’d left them.
‘Well, do we risk it? What you think, Charlie?’
‘Not today, Sarah. Ma wouldn’t like me brothers out in the snow. We still got the shopping to do ain’t we?’
Sarah was relieved; the last thing she wanted was to trek down to the river. ‘I think that’s a wise decision, Charlie. You’re a sensible boy. Now we have to buy provisions and there may be a copper spare to get you all a barley sugar twist as well.’ This bribe was enough to make them forget the river.
Charlie insisted on carrying the basket. He was bent almost double by the weight, but didn’t complain. She knew it would be wrong to take it from him; his pride would be hurt if she did.
They went down the side passage, through the gate in the wall and into the garden. She looked round – yes, it was definitely big enough to be considered a garden. There were flower beds down either side, a substantial vegetable patch and a few chickens in an enclosure at the far end next to the privy.
‘Are there any eggs today, Charlie? I used the last making cakes this morning.’
‘I’ll go and have a look. They don’t lay much now – I reckon it’s the cold. And there ain’t much to peck up off of the ground.’ The boys ran down to the henhouse, leaving her to unlatch the kitchen door. Ada was rocking gently in a chair next to the range and there was no sign of the little one.
‘We’re back, Ada. The boys are looking for eggs. Is Beth having a nap?’
‘She’s just gone down. I’m having one meself. You go ahead, Sarah, don’t worry about disturbing me. I’ll doze in the chair. I reckon I’m that tired I could sleep through a thunderstorm.’
The boys burst into the kitchen, bringing a blast of icy air, and smoke puffed from the range. ‘Close the door quickly. It’s freezing out there. Was that snow in the air, Charlie?’
‘It were, Sarah – it’s coming down heavy now. We’ll be able to build a snowman later.’
‘I hate the stuff. It’s cold, wet and creeps into your boots; but at least we’ve got enough in for the next few days. I’ll not have to go marketing for a while.’
She wouldn’t be able to go to the bank either, not if the weather was inclement. It wasn’t worth risking a broken ankle and anyway she wasn’t leaving Colchester until January now. The money was safe and she had nearly a pound in her bedroom, more than enough to tide her over.
* * *
Colchester, November 1843
Two weeks later the snow had thawed and the weather was back to the more usual grey and damp you’d expect for November. Sarah was concerned about Ada. She had no energy and her ankles were so swollen by the end of the day she could scarcely walk. Sarah suggested they got the midwife in, but Ada insisted she was fine and couldn’t afford to pay out unnecessarily.
There had been a letter come from Mr Billings. Ada couldn’t read but her husband was literate. Sarah read it to her. His ship was making good time and he expected to dock in Harwich in the middle of December, a month earlier than planned. He expressed a wish to be home when the baby arrived.
She was pleased, even though this meant she had to change her plans. A woman needed her man about the place when a baby was born. She would make arrangements to leave for London a bit sooner. When she went to meet Betty she’d go to the bank, withdraw her money and buy the necessary paper to forge her references. She’d not take the coach. Now the weather was bad she’d rather go on the train instead and not risk getting stuck in a ditch.
The grand houses in London could be looking for extra staff for the Christmas season. Hopefully she’d get something, even if it was temporary.
* * *
It was Friday, the day of the cattle and corn market in the high street. She’d have preferred to go on a quieter day, but this was Betty’s free afternoon so there was no choice. At least she could be certain the bank would be open – on market days there would be a deal of money changing hands. She’d just have to be extra vigilant whilst carrying her life savings with her; there were bound to be ne’er-do-wells and pickpockets about as well.
Ada smiled sadly as Sarah was putting on her cloak. ‘I’m going to miss you, Sarah love. I wish we had room, but there ain’t. And anyway, Billings wouldn’t like it if you were here. He’s not too keen on strangers, my man ain’t.’
‘I’m going to miss you too, Ada, and the children. But we both knew I couldn’t stay when your family returned. It’s much better that you have your husband home when the baby comes. I’m glad I’ve been able to be of assistance. I’d better get off – my friend will be waiting. She only has three hours.’
She tied her bonnet securely, checked her hair was firmly pinned at the back of her neck, and pulled on her mittens. She’d sewn an extra pocket into her waistband. This had a drawstring top so she could drop her money in and pull it tight. There was no way a thief could dip in there and get it.
Several passers-by greeted her by name. She’d been living in the neighbourhood long enough to have become a familiar sight in the surrounding streets. She had visited Mrs Cooke the first week to thank her for giving her Ada’s address. She’d been round a couple of times since to take her a batch of cakes.
Sarah had been shocked to find the old lady lived in a neglected cottage, the limewash on the walls all but gone, the fire barely adequate to keep out the cold. No wonder Annie trudged up to the Wednesday fruit and vegetable market to buy the leftovers. She’d visit again before she left the area and put a couple of pennies in with the cakes next time.
She’d not dwell on that; she had to think of herself, look to the future. She was determined to be optimistic, believe she would find herself suitable employment without spending all her savings. She would come back next spring to collect her belongings, see Betty, check if her brother had returned, and nip down to visit with Ada and the boys and see the new baby.
Although a day wasn’t long, on the train it could be done. Mind, she’d have to find employment on the east side of the city; crossing London might well take longer than the fifty miles to Colchester.
She reached the corner of Queen Street and was shocked to find East Hill full of livestock, the bellowing and lowing of the cattle all but deafening. The street was littered with fresh dung and she was obliged to wait a good fifteen minutes whilst the drover herded the two dozen cattle down the hill. Betty was waiting for her, her face wreathed in smiles.
‘I was beginning to think you wasn’t never getting across, Sarah. You look well. I’ve been that worried about you since you went, but I can see you’ve found yourself somewhere decent to live.’
‘I have, with a Mrs Billings. She lives just off St Botolph’s Street. I’ve been helping her out, cooking and cleaning and so on. I’ve only to pay a shilling a week. But her husband and boys are coming home soon, so I’ve got to move on. That’s why I wanted to see you, to say goodbye.’
Betty flung her arms around her. ‘Sarah, don’t leave Colchester. Even if we can’t meet often at least I’ll know you’re there.’
‘I have to. I’m going to write myself some references, and I’m not stupid enough to try and use them anywhere that the master’s name would be recognised.’
‘Then it has to be London? Ain’t Chelmsford far enough?’
‘No, I have to go somewhere no one has ever heard of Mr Bawtree. I’m going to draw my money from the bank today and buy the paper and envelopes to do the references. Tell me, what’s been happening at Grey Friars in my absence?’
‘You’ll never guess – Sally’s been sacked. She was caught pinching by Nanny Brown not long after you left. There’s a new under nurse now, but she’s not a patch on you, I can tell you. Still, that’s not your concern. Let’s get going. Shall we go to The Red Lion? If you’re getting your money from the bank, you can treat me to a pot of tea and a cake.’
Sarah laughed at Betty’s cheek. ‘I’ll do that, but I want to ask you a favour. Can you keep my things until I come down for them next year? Now there’s the train, I’ve worked out I could get there and back in a day. I’ll write and then you can get Mrs Hall to read it; I think she might be prepared to pass on a message by then.’
‘I reckon she would. I heard her talking to Cook the other day, saying it was a shame you had to go, as you were the best girl she’d employed in years.’ Betty grinned and squeezed her arm. ‘I ain’t told you the best bit – I’ve been keeping it for last.’
‘Go on then, you’re fair bursting to tell me.’
‘I’m the under nurse. That’s why I said she wasn’t a patch on you. Nanny asked if I could have the job, and Madam agreed. I’m on a month’s trial. I reckon I’ve done all right and I’ll hear next week if my position’s permanent.’
Sarah wasn’t sure if she was pleased or envious of her friend’s success. ‘I’m glad for you, Betty. You deserve promotion and I’m sure you’ll get good news. Did you move into my old room?’
‘I certainly did. I’ve got your things hidden in the back of the chest. The two nursery-maids don’t dare come in. They’re willing enough, but neither of them are much more than children themselves.’
‘How are the children? No, tell me when we’re having our tea. I must go to the bank. I won’t be able to afford to treat you if I haven’t got my money. I didn’t bring anything with me.’
Sarah joined the queue at the counter, her bank book ready for when it was her turn. The clerk handed out the money without a murmur; she was the proud possessor of nine pounds eight shillings. It was a small fortune, more than enough to keep her out of the workhouse for a year or two even if she couldn’t find employment. She was tempted to put some back, collect it when she returned, but there was a press of people behind her and she didn’t want to draw attention to herself.
Surreptitiously she slipped the money into its special hiding place. With her cloak wrapped tightly around her, she was certain no one would notice the small bulge. She kept out a pound to pay for her train ticket and writing materials. She also wished to purchase small Christmas gifts for the Billings family, and something for the new baby as well.
Inside The Red Lion a huge log fire burnt brightly in the snug, but it was surrounded by farmers and traders. There was no room for them to find a table and order themselves a hot drink. The comments from the men made her cheeks turn red. In her haste to escape she trod on Betty’s toes.
‘We should have realised, it’s too busy for us in here. Where can we go? We need to think of somewhere the farmers won’t be, somewhere a bit further away from the market.’
‘What about Mr Doe’s Temperance Hotel in Wire Street at the back of The Red Lion? We can go through the yard here, then cut down Lion Walk easy enough.’
Sarah wasn’t too happy about taking this route, not when she was carrying so much money. She’d be happier staying on the main thoroughfare where there were people around, someone you could call out to if you were set upon.
‘Look, Sarah, over there. I think that’s Sally. She’s got two blokes with her – surely she’s not on the game already?’
‘Quickly, I don’t like the look of those men. Betty, they’ve seen us. They’re coming over.’ Sarah wished they hadn’t come this way. It was far too quiet.
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