Menagerie - Martin Day [19]
'Soon,' it said, its voice flowing down into the sewers like a sigh. 'Soon.. We leave here. We go up. Dark to light.' Its fingers stretched out to stroke the undersurface of the grating as tenderly as if stroking a child.
'Soon,' it said again, and then disappeared back into the darkness.
Zoe sat with her head in her hands, staring at the floor, trying studiously to avoid visual contact with any of the others in her cell.
The guards had herded the women into one small group at the rear of the ale house and then bundled them into a square horse-drawn waggon. There had barely been room to stand, but only Zoe seemed perturbed. The other women, including those that had sold drinks and a large number from the upstairs rooms, were stoic in the face of discomfort and possible imprisonment. They had skittered one into another like wooden pins with barely a sound, their faces blank and resigned.
Zoe had been pulled from the back of the waggon and then kicked by a guard as she lay on the floor, her head spinning. She had tried to protest, but before she could another guard had interceded and helped her to her feet. The women had been directed with shouts and oaths into a cramped cell the mere smell of which made Zoe's stomach chum. There had been a squabble for what few benches there were — it was like watching primitive animals assert their position in some awful pecking order — but Zoe made straight for the darkest corner, hoping to be ignored.
Some minutes had passed in silence, but she didn't dare look up. Perhaps if she concentrated hard enough she'd just vanish. Perhaps if she were patient enough the Doctor or Jamie would whisper to her that they were about to rescue her, like they always did, and then the great metal-latticed door would come crumbling inwards. Perhaps . . .
There was a gentle hand on her shoulder. 'No, my cloud, don't fall asleep.'
Zoe looked up, her vision swimming. 'I was just — I was
. . .'
'Shh,' advised the woman, who was now coming into focus. 'I saw your head nodding. It's not a good idea to fall asleep in the company of loose women.'
Zoe found that she was almost embarrassed to look at the woman — the dress she was wearing was so immodest, so blatant — but she smiled weakly in thanks. The woman had tried hard to obscure her age, but Zoe noticed even in the poor light of the cell dark lines around her eyes, the first swelling of fat under her chin. Her long hair, although dirty and matted now, had a lustrous hint that obviously enabled her to compete with the dominant young women who sprawled on the benches. There was a kindly, strong beauty about her. Her lower lip was swollen around a tiny purple cut. Zoe watched her lips for a moment before realizing that she was speaking again.
'Sorry?'
'I said, you're clearly not part of this game . . .'
Zoe shook her head firmly.
'You see, fall asleep in here, and you'll awake with no money to pay your fine. And then . . .' The woman paused at Zoe's expression. 'You do have some money?'
Zoe shook her head sadly.
'Nothing? Oh dear, oh dear. You see, the guards are only interested in a nominal warning. We'll be here for a few hours, I suppose, and then we'll be fined and released. All good women,' she almost spat the phrase, 'carry a few coins about their person.'
'But I haven't got —'
'Shh,' said the woman with a warning finger to her lips.
'Don't let the guards hear you say that. If they can't get their coins then they'll look for . . . payment in other forms.' The woman's fingers brushed across Zoe's cheek. 'You're pretty enough, my girl, but I think you'll bruise too easily.'
'But I couldn't —'
'I'll see what I can do for you.' The woman delved down into her substantial cleavage and pulled out a leather pouch, which she raised to her failing eyes, pretending to cough. A moment later a few tiny coins were being pressed into Zoe's damp palm. 'That should be enough.'
'Thank you,' stuttered Zoe. 'How shall I get the money back to you?'
The woman laughed, rearranging her dress. 'You're obviously