The Apothecary's Daughter (49 page)

The following morning Susannah woke to hear the Sabbath Day church bells. At the window she frowned to see a pall of smoke
upriver at London Bridge. The warehouse fire must have been a bad one. She was still watching the drifting smoke when she
heard Agnes calling out to her.

‘Are you well?’ This was the question Agnes asked every morning.

‘Never better!’

‘Then come downstairs. The risk of you falling ill after all this time seems unlikely.’

‘I agree.’

‘And William will come today.’ Agnes gave her a sly little smile. ‘I expect you would like to come to the window to speak
with him?’

After the oppressive heat of the attics the chapel was spacious and airy and, filled with the spirit of liberation, Susannah
skipped across the room, revelling in her new lightness. ‘You cannot know how good it is to be able to take more than five
steps in one direction,’ she said, ‘and to be able to look down onto the street at the people going about their everyday business.’
She walked across the chapel to the window which faced the garden. ‘How I have missed the garden! In fact, I think I’ll go
outside now and give Beth her first taste of the open air.’

‘I shall come with you,’ said Agnes.

The sun on Susannah’s face made her heart sing and a brisk east wind whipped the colour into her cheeks.

The two women walked slowly around the cloisters and Susannah thought how very much she would miss the garden when she moved
back to live in the apothecary shop again. But, of course, she would visit Agnes often.

‘Can you smell smoke?’ asked Agnes.

‘There’s always smoke, isn’t there? But you’re right. During the night I looked out and saw an explosion down by the river.
A warehouse, I expect, and this morning I see the fire has spread to London Bridge. I was so excited at coming down from the
attics that I forgot to mention it.’

‘Perhaps Will may bring news of it. I shall go inside now and speak to John Fuller, our watchman. Quite a decent sort of person.
Lost his brother to the plague so he’s sympathetic to our plight. I’ll ask him to keep a lookout for Will.’

Susannah followed Agnes back up to the chapel and stood beside her as she called down to the watchman.

‘There’s a big fire in the city,’ he said, his heavy eyebrows bristling with the importance of the news. ‘Stupid baker in
Pudding Lane didn’t damp the fire under the ovens properly before he went to bed. The fire’s spread right down to the river
…’

‘So it
was
a warehouse catching fire that I saw?’

‘Indeed ma’am! More’n three hundred houses gone and the fire burning down Fish Hill and catching on the bridge. ’Tis a calamity
and no mistake.’

Susannah’s hands trembled as she dressed her hair carefully, put on her mother’s pearl pendant and laced her bodice so tight
she could barely breathe. Then she sat on the chapel window seat all morning, mending Agnes’s chemise and wondering how long
it would be before William would come.

John Fuller kept calling up to the window to give her the latest news. ‘They say now that it was the French who started it.
Damned Papists! The churches in the east of the city are ablaze,’ he said, ‘and in those that aren’t burning, the congregation
are hearing some pretty warm sermons warning sinners to repent or be consumed by hellfire.’ But he didn’t say he could see
William coming along the street.

William didn’t arrive in time for dinner.

Susannah returned to the attics to look out at the river and was amazed to see the water was full of boats, all heavily loaded
with people and furniture.

During the afternoon Agnes refused to rest in her room and stationed herself by the window to see if she could catch a glimpse
of William coming along Whyteladies Lane. ‘I do hope he brings fresh meat,’ she said. ‘I could fancy a roasted chicken or
a stew of mutton. I expect he’s taking so long because he’s searching out some tasty morsels to tempt his old aunt.’

But William didn’t come.

Following yet another supper of bean soup Agnes went to bed, muttering under her breath about his inconsiderate behaviour.
‘Gone off somewhere to kick up his heels after his release, I’ll be bound.’

Susannah said nothing but she thought it unlikely that William would have gone to a tavern or a bawdy house. In any case,
even if he had gone pleasure-seeking, surely Jennet would have come with news? As time passed, she began to be very afraid
he might have succumbed to the pestilence right at the end of his quarantine.

The sun set and the severity of the fire became more apparent. The usually black night sky was lit by the fires burning in
the city, whipped up by the brisk east wind.

Susannah went to bed and tried to sleep but her mind was running over what she would say to William when he finally arrived.
She fell into an uneasy doze but when she was woken by Beth’s cries she saw no sign that the conflagration was burning itself
out.

The following morning Agnes stayed in her room. ‘You can call me as soon as William deigns to arrive,’ she said. ‘I dare say
he may have a sore head from the ale house and I shall give him the sharp side of my tongue to add to his troubles.’

Susannah hoped Agnes was right. She would have preferred to know that William was in a drunken stupor in a gutter somewhere
rather than stricken down with the pestilence.

To pass the time, Susannah washed her hair, rinsing it with rose-water. She sat in the garden to dry it in the sunshine. If,
when, William did come she would at least be sweet-smelling. Daydreaming, she
watched Beth, who lay on a blanket beside her, gazing at the roses dancing in the breeze.

Something drifted down onto the baby’s face and Susannah hurriedly wiped it away, only for it to be replaced. She looked up
and saw that the darkening sky was snowing flakes of ash. The smell of smoke was becoming stronger, too. Concerned that it
would be harmful for Beth, she took her inside.

William still did not come.

Later, Susannah leaned out of the window to survey the activity in Whyteladies Lane, which reverberated with the grind of
cartwheels on the cobbles and a continual stream of hurrying people laden with packs.

She called down to John Fuller. ‘Will you catch one of the street boys and send him to give a message to Dr Ambrose?’

‘If I see one I’ll do so,’ said John, ‘but everyone from the city is on the move. The street children are earning their keep
in carrying goods away from the fire.’

‘Is it worse, then?’

‘Raging, it is. It’s burning out of control up northwards now. Cannon Street, Lombard Street and Threadneedle Street are all
afire!’

‘Can’t they put it out?’

‘The Duke of York’s got people pulling down the houses to make a firebreak but the wind and the heat’s so great there’s no
stopping the sparks from jumping half a street away. I tell you this: if it can’t be contained the whole city will burn. I’ve
got family in Cheapside and it’s coming too close for comfort.’

Disquieted, Susannah retreated to the attics.

Phoebe took her hand and pulled her to the window, where Joseph stood on a chair looking out over the rooftops.

The Thames was crowded with boats and barges, all heavily laden with people and their possessions. The river was bobbing with
barrels, baskets and makeshift rafts.

Susannah saw a woman on a small boat struggling to hold onto a pair of virginals perched on top of a teetering pile of furniture.
An
upturned table bumped into the boat and the virginals slid from her outstretched hands and slipped into the water.

A mass exodus was taking place.

Agnes tapped at the arm of her chair with fretful fingers and drove Susannah mad with her continual questions.

‘I don’t
know
, Agnes!’ she said at last, driven to exasperation. ‘But, yes, of course it’s possible that William or Jennet have been taken
ill.’

‘If only we weren’t locked in here you could have gone to your father’s shop to find out what is happening.’

‘You know we can’t leave here for another week!’

Disturbed by her mother’s tone, Beth began to whimper. Susannah paced up and down the chapel with Beth on her shoulder, to
soothe herself as much as the baby.

Although it was only late afternoon, the sky was darkened by a black cloud that blotted out the sun. Smoke weaselled its way
into the house through any chink it could find and the smell of it clung to their clothes and hung in the air.

Phoebe carried in a tray of bread and soup and set it on the table. ‘I take baby while you eat?’ She took Beth from her mother’s
arms and nuzzled the baby’s cheek. ‘We find Joseph. Come now, little one.’ She smiled at Susannah as she left.

‘You and Phoebe seem to have sorted out your differences,’ said Agnes.

‘Beth would have died if Phoebe hadn’t been there.’

‘And Joseph would have died if you hadn’t been there.’

Susannah hesitated but then decided to speak anyway, even if it was indelicate. ‘I wish you had told me that Joseph is Henry’s
child.’

Agnes studied her with narrowed eyes. ‘So Phoebe told you, then?’

‘But I didn’t know until Beth was born. I thought William was Joseph’s father. I overheard him tell you when Phoebe first
arrived.
At least, I thought I overheard him say it. He said Joseph was part of the family.’

‘Shouldn’t listen at doors then, should you, miss?’

‘No, Agnes.’

‘Still, Henry left quite a muddle behind him, didn’t he? Joseph is Beth’s half-brother and nothing will change that. But where
is William? I can’t rest until I know he’s safe.’

They finished their soup and sat hand in hand without talking as the last of the light faded.

Then there was a rattle of stones at the window.

‘William!’ Dizzy with relief, Susannah hurried to open the casement.

But it was John Fuller who stood in the lane below, in a considerable state of agitation. ‘I’m leaving,’ he said. ‘My lodgings
are in Wood Street and the fire is galloping along Cheapside. I have to go and help my wife to pack up our belongings and
move the children to safety.’

‘Cheapside? Has it really spread so far?’

John wiped his hand over his face. ‘I should have gone before. I never thought it would take such a hold or move so fast.
If I were you I’d start to pack up your own treasures ready to flee.’

‘Flee? But we can’t …’

‘Stay and be burned, then! I’ve unlocked your door. Your quarantine’s nearly over anyway and you look well enough.’

‘We are well but—’

‘Can’t stop! May the Lord keep you!’

Susannah watched as Fuller thrust his way through the mass of people making their way down Whyteladies Lane towards the river.
‘Did you hear what he said, Agnes?’

‘The fire’s more than half a mile away.’ Agnes’s face had blanched. ‘Surely it won’t reach us?’

‘I can’t imagine …’ Susannah looked out uncertainly at the smoke cloud. Flakes of ash drifted and swirled in the gusty wind.
‘But it seems the fire
is
burning out of control. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to pack up whatever we can, just in case?’ If nothing else,
keeping busy would take Agnes’s mind off her worries about William’s health.