Here lies Tully Truegood,
curvaceous and pretty.
She died an old maid,
More’s the pity.
I determined to shake off my melancholy for it made a dull wit of me and I didn’t like the notion that to Bethany I appeared a silly, half-grown gal, naive in the ways of the world. Hope was the only one I could confide in. I found her in her chamber, reading a letter.
She listened to all I had to say, then said, ‘We should have been honest with you when you came to the fairy house, but Queenie, Mercy and me took you to our hearts and it seemed…’
‘I don’t want to live as Spiggot’s wife,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to go into a nunnery and that leaves…’
‘The noblest profession of them all,’ said Hope with a smile. ‘Show me your wares, madam, and let us see if Bethany is right.’
I pulled my petticoats aside without a blush.
‘Mmm,’ said Hope. ‘Yes, better by far that it all comes off, for you have pretty Venus mound and to lose it under such an ill-defined bush is, I think, a shame. The absence of it will add to your virginal qualities.’
She told her maid to prepare a bath.
With Hope I felt not the least worried to be naked, for she complimented me and assured me a thousand times that nakedness worn well is the height of elegance with which few gowns can compare. She gave me punch to drink and I think the alcohol helped in no small part to make me feel more confident about my body. I relished the warm water and Hope’s sweet words.
It was only when I was dried and my skin smelled of rose water that Signor Florentini arrived. He said not a word while he methodically laid a cloth on the bed and arranged his razors and ointments neatly before him. Still not a word did he say as he indicated that I was to lie down on the bed. I did so, surprised to find that I did not feel at all shy in front of this man. He placed his small glasses on his nose, rolled up his sleeves and scrutinised me before sharpening his razors.
Hope looked on as Signor Florentini parted my legs until all of me was well exposed, then, taking his brush, covered my little garden with frothy soap. He gently moved the soft flesh of my purse with one hand while the razor in his other hand made sure that not one hair was left to spoil the view. The same he did with my legs and arms, and, rolling me over, parted the cheeks of my bottom. There was not a hair left on my body. He rubbed in ointments that were supposed to calm my senses, and didn’t. When Signor Florentini was satisfied with his handiwork he moved his attention to my eyebrows. I was shocked that the plucking of such small hairs could cause such great discomfort. For all my begging him to stop, he carried on.
At last he stood back, studied me, and began to dress my hair. And what a palaver that was. He combed it out until – my oh my – it stood out as if I was a wild woman. He then powdered and pinned it moderately tight and by the time he was finished I had forgotten that I had no clothes on and was growing pleasantly comfortable with the sensation.
Signor Florentini took out a mirror for me to see his handiwork and at last spoke. His voice was so surprising that I thought someone else must be in the room. It was as high pitched as a young girl’s, which sat oddly with his portly appearance.
‘She is a beauty,’ he said. ‘If I may say so, far too much is made of clothes – a woman who is comfortable in her naked state is blessed indeed.’
Just when I was sure nothing more could be done to me, I was stood in the middle of the chamber while Signor Florentini blew powder all over me until I was china white. My nipples he dusted pink, as he did my cheeks, my lips he stained red. At last I was allowed to look in the long mirror. I could hardly believe the transformation. My face, which had been so overcast, now shone with light and there seemed to be more of it and it was better organised than when there had been thick eyebrows to cloud its expression. The white powder softened all blemishes and made one piece of me.
Signor Florentini packed his bag and, with a bow, left.
Hope found me a pair of stockings, shoes with embroidered heels and a small ruff made from silver lace that tied with a little black bow at the back of my neck. These were all I was allowed to put on.
‘If I was a painter,’ said Hope, ‘I would make my fortune with your portrait.’
There came a knock on the chamber door.
Hope, taking my hand said, ‘Quickly – go behind the screen and stay there until I call you. And then I want you to come out like a princess.’
The door opened and I heard Queenie come in with Bethany.
‘If you can’t find anyone for tonight,’ Bethany said, ‘you’ll have to send out. Miss Jacqueline, I’m told, has some new girls in from the country.’
‘I’m not using her,’ said Queenie emphatically. ‘All her girls are patched-up virgins. Hope, we are only hours away from this evening’s entertainment and we are a virgin short. I’m at my wits’ end. What would you suggest?’
‘That you look no further than your own house, madam.’
I knew that if I didn’t make my entrance then I never would have the courage to do it at all. I took a deep breath and, imagining myself to be wearing a gown fit for a queen, I appeared from behind the screen. For a moment there was silence.
It was Bethany who spoke.
‘Signor Florentini’s work, if I’m not mistaken,’ she said. She walked round me. ‘Flora had better see this, Queenie.’
‘Oh, I can’t be bothered with tonight’s arrangements,’ said Flora as she walked into the chamber. ‘Surely you can…’ She, too, stopped on seeing me.
If there was a moment to lose my confidence, this was it. No, I thought. I’d had quite enough of being left out of things and did not want to spend another night staring at a dead parrot.
‘I could become quite jealous,’ said Flora. ‘Where did you get her from?’
‘It’s me,’ I said. ‘Tully.’
‘Perfect,’ said Flora and left the room.
‘Can I come to this evening’s soirée?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ said Queenie. ‘Most definitely, yes.’
I spread my arms and span round and round, feeling myself to be as feathery as a bird. I heard Bethany’s rich, dark laugh. I opened my eyes and found I had risen above the floor and knew if the room had no ceiling I could have touched the clouds.