Remember Me - Lesley Pearse [173]
Mary didn’t think even Boswell would fully appreciate how miraculous, strange and even frightening everything would be to her for a while. How could he? She hadn’t even realized it herself until he brought her here.
‘Who is this gorgeous creature?’ Boswell joked when he arrived back to take her out for supper. ‘Surely there is some mistake, madam? Your name cannot be Mary Broad!’
‘It is indeed, sir,’ Mary giggled. ‘London water, it seems, has magical powers.’
She knew her transformation wasn’t merely the result of a bath and new clothes but the spirit of freedom. She had stayed in the lodging-house all afternoon, but the thought that she could, if she wished, walk out of the front door and mingle with the crowds in the streets was like a tonic. To lie on the soft bed, knowing the airy, fresh-smelling room was just for her was so thrilling that she felt she could stay there forever and never be bored.
But Mrs Wilkes had fixed up her hair with some combs and a little lace cap, and she was wearing blue stockings and a pair of shoes with gilt buckles. Now she must go out and test her newfound freedom.
‘I don’t think I can do this,’ Mary said in panic as Boswell helped her down from the cab in a busy street full of shops.
‘You can’t eat supper?’ he exclaimed.
‘Not in there,’ she said, looking at the sparkling windows of the supper rooms he was intending to take her into. She could see a lady and gentleman sitting at a table by the window. The lady wore a pearl necklace and she was elegantly sipping wine from a glass. Mary thought that to go in there would be like bursting into Captain Phillip’s house uninvited when he had other officers for dinner.
‘Why on earth not?’ Boswell laughed.
‘It’s too grand,’ she blurted out. ‘I’ll make a fool of myself and embarrass you.’
‘No, you won’t,’ he insisted firmly, and tucking her hand through his arm he led her purposively towards the door. ‘All you have to do is smile, and copy what I do. I promise you there’s nothing to it.’
Boswell may have thought there was nothing to walking into a place like that, with every single face turning to look at you, but to Mary it was more terrifying than a storm at sea. She realized by the curious stares, the smiles and nods at Boswell and the buzz of muted conversation that they all knew who she was.
Mary felt herself growing hotter and hotter. Her face felt as if it was on fire, for even though the other people didn’t continue to stare at her once she was sitting down, she guessed they were watching her out of the corner of their eyes and talking about her.
Boswell was studying the bill of fare and commenting on various dishes he’d eaten here before. He didn’t seem to be aware how uncomfortable she felt. ‘What would you like to eat, my dear?’ he asked. ‘The beef pudding is very good here, but so is the rabbit and the duck.’
Mary had been ravenous before they left Mrs Wilkes’s house, but that had gone now and she felt sick instead. Her stays were digging into her and the new shoes were too tight. Yet after all the years of living with constant hunger she couldn’t possibly refuse a meal.
‘You choose for me,’ she whispered.
She tried to remind herself that she had been out to supper before, back in Plymouth with Thomas Coogan. It hadn’t been such a smart place as this, there weren’t white tablecloths, but she hadn’t disgraced herself there, so she wouldn’t here. That was over nine years ago, though, and since then she’d become accustomed to gobbling down anything that came her way, whether it was ship’s rations slopped into a bowl, or whatever she’d managed to cook in one pot. Choice had never