The Lost Jewels - Kirsty Manning Page 0,48

pointed to the clump of mud and jewels on his desk before continuing, ‘Each piece that comes here tells me a little more about life in London. But it’s not just the story of our city, child; each piece is the story of a person. How did they come to own it? How did they use it? What did it mean to them—how did it change their life?’

Essie smiled and looked to where the sun was sneaking through the windows and felt it warm her arms.

‘You are all very welcome to come back and visit me anytime. I’m always here on Saturdays.’

Chapter 15

The following Saturday was the day of the school excursion trip to the Greenwich Observatory parklands. The children were dressed in their Sunday best and lined up on the dock in jittery pairs to board the ferry from Southwark: a motley line of children with sarsaparilla-scented plaits, mismatched boots and too-thin dresses. Once aboard, the children stood on the foredeck with open mouths and shivered in the thick fog and filthy smog all the way to Greenwich, exclaiming at every landmark.

‘Tower Bridge!’

‘Westminster!’ whooped Flora between coughs.

Gertie sat with her back against the cabin with her precious notebook, drawing the line of the city among a haze of industrial smog. Somehow it looked more cloud-like, more whimsical, on the page. Essie wondered what it would be like to sail right along the Thames, beyond London, out into the ocean and into different ports. Different cities, different worlds.

Arriving at Greenwich pier, they stepped from the ferry steamer onto the docks and were ushered past a shrimp seller with a sizzling pan atop a wine barrel. The children looked forlorn, leaning towards the enticing smells as Miss Barnes ushered them off the pier, past the gates of the naval college and into the park. Mr Morton clipped the back of the littlest boy’s head as he accepted a shrimp from the ruddy-faced merchant and gobbled it in one bite.

‘You children continue up the path to the park with Miss Barnes. Father McGuire and I have an appointment, but if we catch an inkling that any of you are misbehaving …’ He eyed the impish boy.

The children drew a collective breath. No-one wanted to be struck with a ruler—or the belt—today.

Miss Barnes flipped a pocket watch from her coat and gathered Gertie and Essie together by the elbows as she addressed the children.

‘Come, quickly. I’ve something to show you.’

Essie grabbed the twins’ hands and followed Miss Barnes as she took off up the path to the Royal Observatory. The hill was steep and planted with pockets of oak and linden trees. Only when the path took a sharp turn could everyone catch a glimpse of the famous dome and the red time ball perched on a turret above the grand Flamsteed House.

Miss Barnes checked her watch again. ‘Hurry. Stand here, class.’ The teacher shepherded them against a tall wall and Essie could feel the summer heat on the stones through her pinafore.

‘Now, watch,’ said Miss Barnes as she pointed to the giant red ball and they watched it rise slowly up the mast before dropping suddenly to the bottom.

Maggie and Flora gave a cheer and Miss Barnes looked at her watch. ‘One p.m. Greenwich Mean Time. I come every year just to check this old thing works.’

Essie turned to look back down the hill and across to the Thames, thinking of all the Londoners, boatmen and sailors who were checking their own watches against the red ball. Everyone moving about the boroughs doing their daily business and all those who came ashore to bring goods from countries far away were threaded together by this instant. She gazed back up the hill to the towering Flamsteed House and the giant red ball and imagined lines from this point stretched out to distant lands across the globe like black threads. Meridian lines spread around the globe from this very spot.

She thought again of the rivers of jewels she’d seen in Cheapside. Emeralds, pearls and gold necklaces. Gertie’s button. When were they buried deep in that cellar? Who would bury such treasures and never return? Essie recalled the words of kindly Mr Lawrence: Each piece is the story of a person. How did they come to own it? How did they use it? What did it mean to them—how did it change their life?

The Thames to her right was obscured by a park, beyond which a power station with towering chimney stacks spewed smoke into