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passion, but Alison ignored her, raising her eyebrows once again at me.
    ‘If you’re certain that your father won’t mind, I should be grateful for the chance of a warm fire and decent food.‘ The first drops of rain had started to fall and I could hear their faint pattering on the leaves of the trees. The air was heavy and windless, but the tiniest of soughing noises among the branches indicated a rising breeze. It could be a cold wet night.
    ‘Leave Father to me.’ Alison spoke with authority. ‘Now, what point had we reached in the story?’ And without waiting for, or needing, a reply from either of us, she continued: ‘The circumstances were not what you think. Nor what Marjorie has led you to believe. My brother was not roaming the streets of London with such an amount of money in his pocket. We left Bristol on All Hallows’ Day, and two of our men, Ned Stoner and Rob Short, went with us. My maid Joan rode pillion behind Ned. We spent three nights on the road and my father hired four other men to go with us as far as Chippenham. When we neared London, my uncle sent two of his servants as far as Paddington village to accompany us into the city and guide us to our destinations.’ She paused for breath, and once more there came the distant rumble of thunder, but closer this time. The noise of the rain increased.
    ‘You were well protected, then,’ I said.
    She nodded.‘ For most of the time. And even when there were only the five of us, we travelled with a party of merchants whom we had met at one of the inns where we stayed. My father advised us to do that, and we obeyed him.’
    ‘So?’ I prompted, when she seemed to have fallen into a reverie. ‘What happened when you finally reached London?’
    ‘What? Oh! It was raining hard and had been for the most of the day, so my uncle and aunt had sent their coach for me and my maid. But Clement’s mare, Bess, had cast a shoe and it was agreed, in order to save time - it was late afternoon by now and beginning to get dark, you see - that he should ride in the coach with us, and that Ned would return to Paddington the following morning to collect Bess from the smithy. We therefore went first to the Dowgate Ward to let my brother alight, before continuing to Farringdon. He got out at the corner of Thames Street and Crooked Lane.’
    ‘Alone? Why didn’t Ned or Rob remain with him?’
    ‘Rob was leading my horse and was to lodge at my uncle’s with Joan and me. Ned was to stop with Clement at the Baptist’s Head but my uncle’s two men seemed anxious for his company. They were full of stories of bands of armed men who roamed the city streets, preying particularly on women, and my brother urged Ned to do as they asked. He could rejoin him later, Clement said. Besides, the inn was only a little way down the lane, within sight of where we left him.’ Alison dipped a forefinger in the remains of her ale and drew a rough map on the table. ‘This is Thames Street,’ she said, ‘and this--’ she made another damp line at right-angles to it-- ‘is Crooked Lane, running down to the wharves and the river. Here, at the corner where we dropped him, is another inn called the Crossed Hands, and the Baptist’s Head is a little further down on the opposite side. We could see the sign and the lanterns hung on the wall. It was only a few steps for him to go and we did not wait. My uncle’s men were anxious to be home before curfew and I think we were all looking forward to our beds. I leaned out of the coach to wave goodbye. Clement was standing, huddled inside his cloak, immediately beneath a torch fixed high up, near an upstairs window of the Crossed Hands inn. He waved back, then made an impatient gesture to speed us on our way. I drew the curtains of the coach and settled back into my seat for the remainder of the journey. I remember remarking to Joan how tired I was and that I should be glad to be safely indoors. It was a wild night and I recall how the torches