Seven Dials Page 0,48
an invention." She avoided using the word lie. What they must say was not really deception because it was a greater truth they were seeking.
"I don' mind bein' a bit free wi' exactness," Gracie said, creating her own euphemism. "But I can't think o' nothin' as'll get me in! An' I bin scratchin' me 'ead ter come up wi' summink. Cor, I wish as Samuel Tellman'd believe me as summink's really wrong 'ere. I knew 'e were stubborn, but 'e's worse 'n tryin' ter back a mule inter the shafts. Me granfer 'ad a mule fer 'is cart wot 'e took the coal in. Yer never saw a more awk'ard beast in all yer life. Yer'd swear as 'is feet was glued ter the floor."
Charlotte smiled at the image, but she was trying to think also. They rounded the corner from Francis Street into Torrington Square, facing the rising wind. A newsboy was grabbing at his placard as it teetered and threatened to knock him over. Gracie ran forward and helped him.
"Thank yer, miss," he said gratefully, righting the board again with difficulty. Charlotte glanced at the newspaper she had saved from being blown away as well.
"In't nuffink good, missus," the boy said, pulling his face into an expression of disgust. "The cholera's got to Vienna now too. The French is fightin' in Mada-summink, an' blamin' our missionaries fer it. Says as it's all our fault."
"Madagascar?" Charlotte suggested.
"Yeah... that's right," he agreed. "Twenty people killed in a train smashup in France, just when someone's gorn an' opened a new railway from Jaffa, wherever that is, ter Jerusalem. An' the Russians 'as arrested the Canadians fer nickin' seals. Or summink. D'yer want one?" he added hopefully.
Charlotte smiled and held out the money. "Thank you," she accepted, taking the top one, which was now considerably crumpled. Then she and Gracie continued on towards Keppel Street.
" 'E's right," Gracie said glumly. "There in't nothin' good in 'em." She indicated the newspaper in Charlotte's hand. "It's all 'bout fightin' an' silliness an' the like."
"It seems to be what we consider news," Charlotte agreed. "If it's good, it can wait." That part of her mind still working on how to get Gracie into the Garrick house began to clear. "Gracie..." she said tentatively. "If Tilda were ill, and you did not know that Martin was not there, wouldn't it be the natural thing for you to go to him and tell him about her? Maybe she is too ill to write-assuming she can?"
Gracie's eyes brightened and a tiny smile of anticipation curved her lips. "Yeah! I reckon as that's what any friend'd do-eh? She's bin took sudden, an' I gotta tell poor Martin, in case she don't get better quick. An' I know where 'e works 'cos Tilda an' I is good friends... which we are. I'd better go soon, 'adn't I? Give 'er time ter get 'ome, an' be took, like, an' fer me ter ask me mistress, an' 'er bein' very good, she tells me ter do it fast!" She grimaced suddenly, lighting her thin, little face with amazing vitality.
"Yes," Charlotte agreed, unconsciously increasing her pace and rounding the corner into the wind again with her skirts swirling and the newspaper flapping in her arms. "There's nothing at home that can't wait. The sooner you go, the better."
HALF AN HOUR LATER, fortified with another cup of tea, Gracie began. She was excited, and so afraid of making a mistake that her stomach was fluttering inside her and she had to breathe in and out deeply and speak her words carefully in order not to stumble. She straightened her coat one more time, swallowed hard, and knocked on the scullery door of the Garrick house in Torrington Square. There was no point in waiting any longer. Time would not improve her task. She must do this for Tilda, and for Martin, of course, unless it was too late.
She had planned what she was going to say as soon as the door opened. Nevertheless, it had stayed shut until she lifted her hand to knock again, harder this time, so that when it did swing wide she nearly fell in. She jerked herself upright, gasping, and found herself less than a foot away from the scullery maid, a fair-skinned girl several inches taller than herself, with hair falling out of its skewed pins. The maid started to speak, shaking her head. "We din't-"
"Good day," Gracie said at the same time, and carrying on when the