Petals in the Ashes by Mary Hooper

business.’
    Anne gasped and we both watched, fascinated, for none of the women had the least shame about them, nor looked downcast, but instead lorded it over the men with as many airs and graces as if they were duchesses rather than doxies.
    â€˜â€™T’would never do for Chertsey!’ Anne said, and we could scarce stop laughing.
    It was at this time, just before the play started, that there came on to the stage a man all dressed in black wheeling a large box which he set up on its end. Shouting to be heard above the hubbub, he announced in a strange accent that he was a magician and necromancer by the name of Count de’Ath, and he had brought with him his mysterious cabinet.
    A little hush came across the audience, for everyone loved to hear of magic and enchantment (and indeed Anne and I intended to pay a visit to Madame le Strange, the fortune teller on London Bridge, for it was said that she had predicted the plague and foretold the exact number who would die).
    Count de’Ath stood full square before the audience, twirled his moustache and said that if any member of the audience wished to disappear, either from his wifeor his creditors, then he had only to enter this cabinet and he would never be seen again.
    â€˜Where will he go, Maestro?’ someone asked from above, and the Count said that the cabinet would instantly convey this man to a land across the sea, where he would live as a person of wealth and property.
    â€˜â€™Is troubles vill disappear and he vill for ever dwell in a place of warmth and luxury.’
    â€˜I dwells there after five pints at the alehouse!’ some wit shouted.
    Count de’Ath did not appear to hear this. Indeed, he seemed oblivious to all that was going on in the theatre: the people constantly arriving, the yapping from the lap dogs of the ladies, a brawl taking place in the gallery, a new cry of ‘Nel-ly!’ beginning from a box.
    â€˜How much will it cost to go there?’ someone wanted to know.
    The Count raised his arms. ‘No money vill exchange hands,’ he said. There was a pause. ‘It vill merely cost ’is soul.’
    There was quiet at this, and several people in the audience crossed themselves. Even the harlots stopped their chatter for a moment.
    â€˜Are zere any takers?’ asked Count de’Ath, but of course there were not, because reading the almanacs and visiting a fortune teller was one thing, but selling your soul to the Devil was quite another.
    The Count asked again, telling of how a person’s life could be changed, how a man could become a king and live on a rich island of his own for the whole of his life. Suddenly, then, from one of the benches inthe pit, a young man stepped forward and ran up the steps on to the stage. He was tall and slim, dressed like a dandy in satins and lace. ‘I’ll go!’ he said, sweeping his feathered hat from his head with a flourish.
    Those in the audience who were watching the act started in surprise and then strained forward in their seats in order to see better, while others gasped at his bravery. I gasped loudest of all – indeed I gave a little cry – for as the young man turned, I saw that it was Tom.

Chapter Seven
The Magician
    â€˜
My wife and I to the theatre where sat the King, Madam Castlemaine, the Duke and Duchess, and my wife to her great content had her full sight of them all.’
    Or was it? Just as the young man turned and walked across the stage to enter the black cabinet, a couple pushed past us to their seats and we had to rise. As we sat down another couple came by, laughing, and made to engage us in conversation.
    â€˜Damned fine play, this!’ said the man. ‘Saw it yesterday, too.’
    â€˜Have you seen it before?’ the woman asked me.
    I didn’t reply and, stifling a cry, almost pushed them out of the way so I could see around the woman’s ribboned cap. They passed by, looking at me curiously