Free Petals in the Ashes by Mary Hooper Page B

outside. I presented my sister to him and, after scaring her by telling her about a pamphlet detailing a seer’s vision of the City set all in flame from one end to the other, he got up on the stool and tapped on the turning peg with a small hammer to release the shutter. This shutter, when lowered, allowed light into the shop and also formed a counter from which to sell our sweetmeats.
    â€˜As I thought – all of a muddle and a mess,’ Mr Newbery said with satisfaction, peering into the room and shaking his head.
    He went back into his own shop and Anne and I then surveyed the room before us, which was not much spoiled – although the walls were mould-ridden and would need washing, and the herbs we’d strewn on the floor were black and gave off a musty,unpleasant smell. The fireplace was laid neat and tidy, however, with the fire irons all in place and the saucepans set above, and there was the small burner to heat the sugar water nearby. To one side of the room was the marble working surface on which stood various sizes of wooden drums. These were empty and dusty now but, after a visit to the market, would soon contain sugar, spices and the various fruits and herbs with which we worked.
    â€˜It is a good business, and we must work hard and make a success of what we do, for Sarah’s sake,’ I said to Anne.
    â€˜Of course we will!’ My sister took Kitty (for thus we had named her) from her basket and began to walk around the shop with her, and then into the living quarters beyond, telling her that this would be her new home and she wasn’t to stray but must stay with us and be a good, playful kitty.
    â€˜Anne, are you listening?’ I asked.
    She nodded. ‘You said we must work hard.’ She put Kitty down and turned to me, looking puzzled. ‘But what was that that your neighbour was saying – about the City in flame?’
    â€˜It was nothing,’ I said. ‘Mr Newbery likes to scare.’
    And if God’s dreadful punishment was being meted out to the City, I thought to myself, then surely it had happened last year. The plague. Nothing could be worse than that.
    It is well known that a London housewife may buy everything she needs from her own doorstep, and we proved this by setting our shop to rights without needing to go abroad for any of our purchases. Withintwo days the walls – both in the shop and our room beyond – were newly limewashed, the floor was scrubbed with soda and strewn with fresh herbs, and a new water carrier and some enamel jugs had been purchased. There were fresh wax candles in all the holders and two shimmering sugar loaves standing ready to be used. Thus all was prepared, and it just remained for us to go to Covent Garden market to buy the blooms and the fruits we needed to start making the sweetmeats.
    Before I’d left Chertsey, Sarah and I had talked about what should be made first, and had decided upon frosted rose petals, orange and lemon suckets and herb comfits. These were simple sweetmeats which Anne could help with and which we knew sold well. Once we had a few regular sweetmeats in stock, we would then begin to make the more time-consuming things: the marchpane fruits, the crystallised violets and the sugared plums.
    All was prepared, then, and I was mighty pleased with myself. There was one thing I had not done, though, and it was on my mind constantly. I had not yet been to Doctor da Silva’s to speak to Tom.
    We were too busy, I told myself, there was much to put to rights, and I could not leave Anne, for she needed to be instructed all along the way. These were my excuses – but what truly delayed me was the thought that Tom might have forgotten about me in the eight months that I’d been gone – for it was said that ’prentices bedded where they could, and why should he wait for a girl who might not ever return to him? Moreover, a girl he had not even kissed. All the while I did not go