they looked up to see Madame Lefevre arrive with another girl in tow behind her. She showed her to where Ella used to sit. Sadie and the others stared with frank
curiosity.
The newcomer was a light-boned girl with a round pink face and thick gold-coloured hair in side bunches that jutted out from her cap, which was tied very tightly under her chin. She tripped in
as though she already knew where she was going and settled down on Ella’s stool as if she had been sitting there all her life. She sat very upright with her shoulders back and smoothed her
hands over the folds of her dark skirts. Sadie did not like someone sitting in Ella’s place.
‘This is Mercy Fletcher,’ Madame Lefevre said. She turned back to Mercy. ‘Johnson will tell you where everything is and help if you should go awry.’
Corey smiled, and Mercy smiled back at Corey, a smile that did not show her teeth. Madame Lefevre nodded in satisfaction.
When Madame Lefevre had gone, Mercy turned to Corey, arched her eyebrows and said, ‘I shouldn’t think I’ll need your help. I used to work for M’sieur Alphonse in Three
Needle Street. It was a much bigger place than this, and we made all the new French styles.’
‘If it was so fancy, why d’you leave then?’ Betsy said, looking out of the side of her eyes at Corey, and getting in a dig.
‘My brother had an argument with the proprietor.’
‘Why was that then?’ Pegeen asked.
‘He couldn’t get along with M’sieur Alphonse. Called him the king’s fop. And the men used to sit round during fittings in their shirtsleeves exchanging lewd stories.
Jacob didn’t want my ears sullied with their filth, so he had a word with him about it. M’sieur Alphonse tried to make excuses, but Jacob won’t take false talk from anyone, so he
just put out God’s fist at him. I’ve not been allowed to go back since.’
The girls stared and giggled, until Madame Lefevre put her head round the door.
‘What’s this “God’s fist” she was talking about?’ Sadie asked Corey later during the snap break.
‘Jacob Fletcher’s got a reputation on him,’ Corey said. ‘I’d no idea Mercy was his sister. He’s a Puritan bully boy. He was the one roused a mob to torch the
mercer’s – on account of them being Catholics. The place went up whoosh! Like tinder, and the poor woman still abed inside. Terrible, it was.’
Sadie thought of Ella at the gunpowder factory. She hoped it wasn’t true about the explosions. She didn’t like the sound of Jacob Fletcher and she wished Ella was still working here
at the wig shop, not Mercy.
After their dinner break, the girls knuckled down to their work under the watchful eye of Madame Lefevre, who was keeping a half-eye on Mercy Fletcher to see how she fared. Sadie could see
Mercy’s hands moving like quicksilver over the wig block. She was obviously an experienced knotter. Later in the afternoon, the bell sounded and Madame Lefevre clacked away to answer the
door. A few moments later she appeared again round the curtain and pointed a finger in Sadie’s direction.
‘Mr Whitgift’s asking after you.’
She stood up. All the girls paused in their knotting. From the way Madame said his name, it could have been the Good Lord himself.
‘Says he wants to speak with the girl with the great red stain on her face.’ Madame did not spare her embarrassment. ‘Get a shift on, he’s waiting.’
Sadie rubbed her hands on her apron and brushed the clinging hairs from her bodice as she went through into the shop. He was lounging against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other, his
fancy hat in his hands. He held the door to the street open, with a long arm.
‘Step outside with me a moment,’ he said.
She ducked under his elbow, and smartly he shut the door in Madame’s face. Sadie suppressed a smile, but was unsurprised when moments later Madame’s dark shape appeared inside next
to the window.
Sadie shivered; the air bit through her thin sleeves.
curiosity.
The newcomer was a light-boned girl with a round pink face and thick gold-coloured hair in side bunches that jutted out from her cap, which was tied very tightly under her chin. She tripped in
as though she already knew where she was going and settled down on Ella’s stool as if she had been sitting there all her life. She sat very upright with her shoulders back and smoothed her
hands over the folds of her dark skirts. Sadie did not like someone sitting in Ella’s place.
‘This is Mercy Fletcher,’ Madame Lefevre said. She turned back to Mercy. ‘Johnson will tell you where everything is and help if you should go awry.’
Corey smiled, and Mercy smiled back at Corey, a smile that did not show her teeth. Madame Lefevre nodded in satisfaction.
When Madame Lefevre had gone, Mercy turned to Corey, arched her eyebrows and said, ‘I shouldn’t think I’ll need your help. I used to work for M’sieur Alphonse in Three
Needle Street. It was a much bigger place than this, and we made all the new French styles.’
‘If it was so fancy, why d’you leave then?’ Betsy said, looking out of the side of her eyes at Corey, and getting in a dig.
‘My brother had an argument with the proprietor.’
‘Why was that then?’ Pegeen asked.
‘He couldn’t get along with M’sieur Alphonse. Called him the king’s fop. And the men used to sit round during fittings in their shirtsleeves exchanging lewd stories.
Jacob didn’t want my ears sullied with their filth, so he had a word with him about it. M’sieur Alphonse tried to make excuses, but Jacob won’t take false talk from anyone, so he
just put out God’s fist at him. I’ve not been allowed to go back since.’
The girls stared and giggled, until Madame Lefevre put her head round the door.
‘What’s this “God’s fist” she was talking about?’ Sadie asked Corey later during the snap break.
‘Jacob Fletcher’s got a reputation on him,’ Corey said. ‘I’d no idea Mercy was his sister. He’s a Puritan bully boy. He was the one roused a mob to torch the
mercer’s – on account of them being Catholics. The place went up whoosh! Like tinder, and the poor woman still abed inside. Terrible, it was.’
Sadie thought of Ella at the gunpowder factory. She hoped it wasn’t true about the explosions. She didn’t like the sound of Jacob Fletcher and she wished Ella was still working here
at the wig shop, not Mercy.
After their dinner break, the girls knuckled down to their work under the watchful eye of Madame Lefevre, who was keeping a half-eye on Mercy Fletcher to see how she fared. Sadie could see
Mercy’s hands moving like quicksilver over the wig block. She was obviously an experienced knotter. Later in the afternoon, the bell sounded and Madame Lefevre clacked away to answer the
door. A few moments later she appeared again round the curtain and pointed a finger in Sadie’s direction.
‘Mr Whitgift’s asking after you.’
She stood up. All the girls paused in their knotting. From the way Madame said his name, it could have been the Good Lord himself.
‘Says he wants to speak with the girl with the great red stain on her face.’ Madame did not spare her embarrassment. ‘Get a shift on, he’s waiting.’
Sadie rubbed her hands on her apron and brushed the clinging hairs from her bodice as she went through into the shop. He was lounging against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other, his
fancy hat in his hands. He held the door to the street open, with a long arm.
‘Step outside with me a moment,’ he said.
She ducked under his elbow, and smartly he shut the door in Madame’s face. Sadie suppressed a smile, but was unsurprised when moments later Madame’s dark shape appeared inside next
to the window.
Sadie shivered; the air bit through her thin sleeves.
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