Curse Of The Blue Tattoo Part 22

I cram my faithful old black watch cap down over my hair and low on my brow. Then I go to my jar of soot and take some and rub it over my face to take the white s.h.i.+ne off of it and I do the same to my feet.

Then I go and pull down the stairway and go up to the widow's walk.

He is not yet at his window, but somehow I feel he will be tonight, because of the glances he sent my way at supper this evening, so I put my foot on a stout branch of the overarching oak tree and begin to climb.

The moon is rising and that makes it easier for me to make my way through the branches, but it also makes it easier for me to be spotted in spite of my burglar's gear and so I am careful to move slowly.

Soon I am over the trunk of the tree, midway between the two buildings, and I pick out the branch that will lead me to the church. I begin to climb out on it and it sinks under my weight until it touches the roof and makes it easy for me to step onto the tiles of the church roof. When I get off, the branch lifts a bit, so I will have to leap up for it on my return.

I quickly pad over the roof to the gable above the window from which he holds forth, and I nestle down into the shadows of the gutter to await his arrival.

It occurs to me while I sit there and wait that most girls might find this a strange and scary thing to do, but to me it ain't much different from being on watch at three in the morning and sitting astride the main royal yardarm and taking in a line to trim a sail that don't want to be trimmed 'cause of s.h.i.+fting winds.

Then, too, I reflect on how me and the gang in Cheapside would climb to the tops of high buildings-first up on a low shed, then up to a low roof and then to a higher one, then higher and higher as the buildings were all close together and we could jump from one to the other till we got to the top of the highest one. We did this sometimes for safety, like when some of the bigger gangs was at war and we needed to stay out of the way, or when the police was keen on nabbing us, 'cause of what we'd been up to, but mostly we did it 'cause when we was up there we could spy out any profitable mischief down below-a pie cooling on a windowsill, or some clothing hung out to dry that we could pinch and sell to the ragman. And we did it 'cause it was fun.

I don't have to wait long. I hear a shuffling down below and then a lamp is lit and light pours out the window. I crawl to the end of the gable, straddling it with my legs to either side like I am riding a horse.

I sit and listen. I hear the window opening.

The arm and the hand at the end of it come thrusting out of the window so suddenly that I start back. I could lean over and touch the hand with the pointing finger, I am that close.

"There that one lies and well it should and the other one shall lie beside her and so shall all the evil witches in this h.e.l.lish world by the living G.o.d I will make it so ... what? Grandfather, what did you say?"

It chills me to hear these words, but I make not a sound. The hand is withdrawn and I hear a clink like ... like what? Ah ... like the clink of a bottle on a gla.s.s. Ah yes.

"Yes, Grandfather, in your day she would already be hanged ... or burned ... or drowned ... but in these unholy times I must have proof or they will take me and end my ministry. Satan's minions control the courts. That d.a.m.ned popinjay of a lawyer she has enthralled, he thwarts my every move ... that d.a.m.ned little man, he mocks me to my face!"

Good work, Ezra, I thinks, high up above on my perch.

Again I hear the clink of bottleneck on rim. I think I can even hear the gurgle of the spirits slos.h.i.+ng into the gla.s.s. I'm thinking that this explains a lot-it is the drink that pushes him over the edge into lunacy at night.

It is a pity. I much preferred him as a werewolf.

"I have been gathering evidence, Grandfather, I have learned that she carries the very mark of the Devil-a pitchfork!-on her belly, she does, and I am gathering other evidence, oh, do not mistake me..."

Now, how the h.e.l.l did he find out about my tattoo? Which, by the way, you demented lunatic, is an anchor, not a pitchfork. And its on my hipbone, not on my abdomen. I think on this ... it had to be that louse Dobbs, who surprised me one day when I was taking a bath. Peg warned me to hurry up and get out 'cause Dobbs was comin' soon with wood for the fires, but me in my contrary way said don't worry I'll get out in a minute and I sank back into the lovely suds but he did come burstin' in just as I was gettin' out and I thought I got the towel up in time, but I guess I didn't. So the vile Dobbs is in the Preacher's pocket ... Good to know.

"Yes, Grandfather, there will be the judgment. First the discipline, then the judgment. Just like the other one."

So there we have it. From his own mouth.

I have heard enough and make ready to make my return when I have a idea. When he starts in to ranting again, I lean over and say real low in a wee, sad voice, "Please, Sir, don't..." just as I imagine janey Porter did when first he came at her, she in all her innocence and he with worms crawling in his brain. Then I leap back over the roof beam of the church, the pads of my feet silent on the roof slates.

For sure that stopped his ravings real quick, and though I can't see him, I know he's craning his head around tryin' to see where the sound come from, but I also know he can't see nothin' but blackness.

I hadn't planned on doin' that tonight, it just come to me, but I figure it was a good opening shot across his bow.

Sleep well, Preacher.

When I am back in my room, I sit on the edge of my bed and breathe deeply and think for a while. I had stayed up there on the church roof until the Preacher turned off the lamp and even a little longer after that to make sure he wasn't sitting there waiting to hear something like me getting back into the tree, which I can't do totally silent, and, sure enough, a little later I hear the window slide shut. Only then do I creep back into my tree.

I get up and take off my black clothes and scrub my face and ankles and feet with the water from the bucket and towel off with the ragged towels and hide them. Tomorrow I shall wash them on the sly.

Then I wash teeth, armpits, and parts in my usual way and get my nightclothes on.

But instead of turning to sleep, I turn up my lamp a bit and take out my new watch cap and my needle and thread. Then I take the old mop and, with my s.h.i.+v, cut strands of it off, some long, some quite short, and I begin sewing on the whitish strands. The long ones on the sides and back, the short ones on the front.

Like bangs.

Chapter 25.

"Jacky, please don't go," implores Amy. We're up in my room, after supper, and I'm getting ready to go out.

"I got to go. Gully expects me," I says. "We've been making some serious money. After this weekend I may have enough to buy a cheap pa.s.sage to London and Jaimy. The fleet's in and we play tonight and then twice tomorrow, and it should be good."

I've made a small bag built like a sling and it goes over my shoulder easy, and into it I'm stuffing my concertina and some stuff we use in the act, like my sailor s.h.i.+rt, the doll, and my Dolphin cap.

"But I worry about you so, out there all alone in the night," she says, low and whispery.

"So, come with me, then. It'll be fun."

Amy sits back down on the bed.

"But I'm scared," she says.

"Me, too. But if you're going to be poor like me, soon you'll have to go out in the world, scared or not."

"I suppose."

I lace up my weskit and slide in my pennywhistle and my s.h.i.+v.

"What will you do if you're put out in the world, Sister?" I ask.

"I suppose I'll be made a governess to someone else's children ... unless a match can be made for me."

"Not much fun, that. More fun to make your way on your own. It can be done. Even as a girl, alone. Come, we can rig you out with bits and pieces of clothing from downstairs and you'll look just like me. The wild and contrary Valentine Sisters, out on the prowl!"

"But I'll be missed at prayers tonight."

"Hmm ... all right. You can't go out tonight, that's certain. But we'll do it tomorrow afternoon, for we do a Sat.u.r.day afternoon show, as well as the nighttime one."

Ready now, I turn and go to the window.

"Please be careful, Jacky."

"I will, Sister. Turn off the lamp when you leave."

She says that she will, and I hook my leg through the open window and fit my foot on the first rung.

Much later when I return, smelling I'm sure of spilt ale and tobacco smoke and with much jingle in my purse, Amy is there in her nightclothes, sprawled across my bed with a book on her chest and the lamp long since gone out.

I open my seabag and add my handful of coins to my h.o.a.rd and then get into my night togs. I rouse Amy enough to get her under the covers and on her side. She murmurs, "Thank goodness," and then falls back into sleep.

Dear Amy, I thinks, crawling in beside her and pulling the blanket up over both of us, you need not have worried. The crowds were cheerful and well behaved and generous with their applause and their money.

We've added a closing number to our act and it went over wonderfully. It's called "The Parting Gla.s.s," and it's a slow song, almost a lament. Gully plays the straight melody and sings over it.

"Oh, all the money that ever I had

I spent it in good company.

And all the harm I've ever done,

Alas, it was to none hut me."

I play a breathy countermelody over it all on my whistle to add a wistful touch, and after we do the final verse...

"And all I've done for want of wit

To memory now I can't recall.

So fill for me the parting gla.s.s,

Good night and joy be with you all."

Gully bows low and I do a deep curtsy and we are off. A perfect way to end the set and the evening.

"Always leave 'em wanting more, Moneymaker," says Gully, putting the Lady Lenore gently back in her velvet-lined bed. He had even cleaned up a bit and stayed almost sober the whole night and insisted on walking me home after our set. I said he didn't have to and was even a little suspicious and made sure my s.h.i.+v was handy, but he was a gentleman and it was good walking and talking with him and not having to stay in the shadows.

He left me at the foot of my ladder, chuckling at my arrangement. "Och, you're a rare 'un, you are, Moneymaker," he whispered, and disappeared in the dark.

I put my hands behind my head and look off into the dark, too keyed up to sleep just yet, and I think back on another funny thing that happened tonight. These two gents come up to me after I was steppin' off the stage at the end of a set and they bow all polite and I'm watchin' 'em real careful for any false moves but they don't invite me upstairs or anything like that. Instead they hand me a small white card that says Fennel & Bean

Thespians

Theatricals & Revues

I looked at the card and then blankly up at them.

"Actors, Miss. I am Mr. Fennel and this is Mr. Bean"-a sweeping bow. "We are always looking for talented young actresses. Are we not, Mr. Bean?"

"Yes, we are, Mr. Fennel," says Mr. Bean.

"But I'm not..."

"Oh, yes, you are. And we notice that you are not at all shy in performance," says Mr. Fennel.