Read At the Sign of the Sugared Plum for Free Online Page A

recently been on at one of the playhouses.
    Abigail blew a kiss to the youth who’d spoken, and linked her arm with mine. ‘Now Hannah, tell me every piece of news from Chertsey, for I swear I have not heard a word of gossip from my mother or sisters since I came here.’
    By the end of an hour, Abby – for that was how she was known in London – and I had caught up with everything that had happened to each other. I’d told her of the small goings-on in Chertsey, and about Sarah’s shop and Nelly Gwyn coming in to buy sweetmeats, and I’d also told her about Tom, for though there was but a little to tell, Abby had a sweetheart herself and I didn’t want to be thought backward.
    We touched on the plague and she said that her master and mistress would have left the city already, except that eight weeks ago Mrs Beauchurch had given birth to a daughter and, due to childbed fever, was not yet strong enough to travel any distance.
    ‘Do you think the plague will be really bad?’ I asked.
    She shrugged. ‘It is bad every twenty years, they say. And I have seen some portents myself.’
    ‘Which ones?’
    ‘I saw the angel in the clouds with the flaming sword,’ she said, and then she frowned. ‘At least, they said that’s what it was, though to tell the truth I could not make it out to be a figure at all. I have seen something else, though – the children playing at funerals. It seems that all over London they are playacting the same thing.’
    ‘I’ve seen them too!’
    ‘Mr Beauchurch told us that children discern things because they are close to nature. They can foretell the future.’
    I shivered. ‘Pray it isn’t so.’
    Abby gave my arm a squeeze. ‘Even if the plague does come, you and I are of healthy stock and as sound as ’roaches. We’ve nothing to fear!’
    At home that night, Sarah and I stayed up late shelling and skinning more almonds while I told her all about Abby, and it was midnight before we went to bed, which was the latest I was ever up in my life. Just before we went to sleep we heard the night watchman on his rounds:
    ‘Twelve o’clock
    Look well to your lock,
    Your fire and your light
    And so good-night!’

Chapter Four
The last week of June
    ‘This day much against my will, I did in Drury Lane see two or three houses marked with a red cross upon the doors and “Lord have mercy Upon us” writ there . . .’
    The gown being held aloft by the aged stallholder was of pale green taffeta. It had full sleeves and a round neck, the bodice was boned, had narrow tucks all down the front and went into a point in the middle. The skirt was set in pleats and its front edges were drawn open to show a dark green silk lining and matching ruffled under-skirt.
    ‘Oh, this one!’ I said, taking it from her and holding it to me. I looked at my sister pleadingly. ‘Please, Sarah!’
    It was Sunday morning and Sarah and I had already walked the length of Houndsditch market where we had easily sold both the vicar’s daughter’s skirt and blouse and my own drab brown gown. With the money from these I’d bought a dark blue cambricdress, and Sarah had offered to advance my wages so I could have another.
    ‘You’ll find no lice or bugs in my clothes,’ the toothless stallholder told us. ‘This very elegant gown once belonged to a countess.’
    Sarah didn’t take any notice of this, though I was quite willing to believe it, for I liked the idea of having a dress that had been owned by someone titled.
    ‘It’s rather grand but it does look well on you,’ Sarah said. ‘The green suits your colouring.’
    ‘It doesn’t make my hair look more red, does it?’ I asked anxiously, and Sarah assured me that it didn’t.
    ‘That gown is only two seasons old,’ the old woman went on. ‘The countess brings all her clothes for me to sell.’
    ‘What else of hers do you have, then?’ I asked.
    The woman hesitated, then from an old trunk behind the stall she brought out a clover-pink velvet cloak