Plain Jane Read Free

two shillings and threepence for a large loaf and they bought six,’ said Lizzie, her remembered awe drying her tears.
    ‘They swep’ past me. “Get out of my way, little peasant,” says the mother, and, as she went past me, this loaf fell from her silly basket, and quick as a wink I caught it before it fell to the ground. They didn’t wait. I ran after them as they were getting in their carridge and I says, “Please mum, you’ve dropped your loaf.”
    ‘“Oh, mama,” says one of the girls, “don’t touch it. She’s probably got lice.”
    ‘“Then it will do the servants,” says the mother, leaning out of the carridge window to take it from me.
    ‘I found meself shouting, “Then
I’ll
keep it,” an’ I wrapped it in my shawl and ran as hard as I could. They screamed, “Stop thief!” and hands grabbed at me out of the fog, but I darted into a doorway and hid there until the shouting died away. So here I am,’ she ended miserably.
    Rainbird took a deep breath. ‘Lizzie, if they had caught you, you would have been hanged, or, at the very least, transported to the colonies.’
    ‘I am in mortal sin,’ whispered Lizzie.
    ‘So you are,’ crowed Joseph. ‘That Pope o’ yourn will damn you to hell.’ Then he gasped as Jenny drove her sharp elbow into his solar plexus.
    ‘I think God will forgive you,’ said Rainbird, ‘but whether he will forgive that woman and her daughters is another matter. Dry your tears, Lizzie. You must never do anything like that again.’
    The tall and Junoesque Alice walked slowly round the table – everything Alice did was slow and languid. She put her arms around Lizzie and said, ‘Don’t cry. You be a
good
girl.’
    Rainbird sighed. What was their life sinking to when even such as little Lizzie turned thief?
    Slow, heavy steps on the stairs heralded the arrival of the housekeeper, Mrs Middleton, a tired anxious lady of uncertain years with a face like a frightened rabbit. She opened her huge reticule and triumphantly placed a large, moth-eaten-looking cabbage on the table.
    ‘How much?’ asked Rainbird.
    ‘Nothing,’ beamed Mrs Middleton.
    ‘You bin stealin’ as well?’ asked Dave.
    ‘Get back up that chimney and mind your manners,’ said Rainbird severely. ‘Now, Mrs Middleton, what happened?’
    ‘It was a porter at Covent Garden,’ smiled Mrs Middleton, taking off her enormous bonnet, which looked like a coal scuttle. ‘He dropped it and I picked it up and went after him. “Here, my good man,” I said. “Oo d’ye think yer callin’
goodman
?” he says. “You can take that there cabbidge and . . .”’ Mrs Middleton turned pink. ‘I did not understand the rest of what he said, but he looked so violent that I said, “Thank you”, and put the cabbage in my reticule. What did Dave mean about stealing as well?’
    Joseph opened his mouth and then shut it again as Rainbird glared at him.
    ‘Hurry up and finish those chimneys,’ called Rainbird to Dave. ‘Angus MacGregor has gone into the country for firewood so mayhap we’ll have some heat this evening.’
    ‘There’s soot everywhere!’ screamed Mrs Middleton. ‘Alice, why are you hugging that useless maid? Lizzie, start scrubbing out this hall and when you’ve finished, get to work in the kitchen.’
    ‘Here’s MacGregor,’ tittered Joseph, ‘sounding like the whole of Prince Charles’s rabble retreating from Derby.’
    They all trooped into the kitchen where the Highland cook was just swinging a large sack down from his shoulder.
    ‘Snowing hard,’ he grunted.
    ‘Blood!’ screamed dark-haired Jenny. ‘There’s blood dripping from that sack!’
    ‘What have you got there?’ demanded Rainbird.
    ‘A deer,’ said the cook cheerfully. ‘A wee bit cratur. Venison tonight.’
    ‘You’ve been poaching on some lord’s estate,’ accused Rainbird.
    ‘No,’ said the red-haired cook laconically, jerking open the string that held the sack. ‘It’s a young ’un. I got it in