‘I’ve employed apprentices of my own, remember, Nick. In my experience, the best way to deal with them is to talk to them on their own level. Waving a big stick only makes the weak ones cower and the strong ones rebellious.’ She glanced upwards. ‘How did Davy sleep?’
‘Extremely well. I heard him wheezing contentedly before I dropped off.’
‘No attempt to sneak out of the house?’
‘None, as far as I know,’ said Nicholas. ‘And no merry pranks with the other boys. That’s one reason he’s been so quiet, of course. He’s not fighting a constant battle here with John Tallis and his friends. I’m sorry I had to let him share my room with me,’ he said, stepping in close to plant an apologetic kiss on her cheek, ‘but I wanted to make sure that nothing untoward happened.’
‘Nothing untoward happened in my bedchamber, I fear,’ she teased.
‘The boy’s needs came first, Anne.’
‘Of course. I appreciate that. It would have been wrong for him to see how close we are when we’re not legally married. That’s why I went to some pains to treat you like a lodger in front of him.’
It was his turn to tease. ‘But that’s exactly what I am, isn’t it?’
‘From time to time.’
‘I’ll give him a shout. Davy!’ he called, moving to the bottom of the stairs. ‘Hurry up, lad. We’ll be late.’
‘One moment!’ replied a distant voice.
‘At least, he’s still in the house,’ said Anne.
‘Not necessarily,’ Nicholas pointed out. ‘He could be on the roof.’
Footsteps came tripping down the stairs and Davy Stratton entered the room. There was no sign of strain in him. Nicholas noted how relaxed and happy the boy seemed. After greetings were exchanged, Anne stepped in to straighten his collar for him and to brush aside a few stray hairs that peeped out from under his cap.
‘We’ll have breakfast when we get back,’ she said.
‘Yes, Mistress Hendrik.’
‘Do you like church, Davy?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘Do you go regularly at home?’
‘Oh, yes,’ he said with a rueful smile ‘We have to. My father makes sure that we never miss a service on Sundays. Some of the people he does business with also go to St Christopher’s.’
‘What sort of man is the vicar?’ asked Nicholas.
‘Reverend Dyment is a devout man.’
‘He seemed rather harassed when we met him at Silvermere.’
‘He has a lot of trouble from some parishioners.’
‘Do they include this infamous Reginald Orr?’
‘I think so.’
‘Have you met the man yourself, Davy?’
‘No, but my father has,’ said the boy. ‘He had Master Orr arrested.’
‘Why?’ said Anne.
‘For causing a disturbance in the village.’
‘It’s time to be on our way,’ suggested Nicholas as a sonorous bell began to toll in the distance. ‘We don’t want to be late.’
They let themselves out and walked briskly along the street. The sun was out but it was still decidedly cold. Nicholas hoped that they would not see any more victims of the winter, frozen to death in lanes or alleyways. Several other people were heading towards the church for matins and they joined the swelling congregation. Anne was plainly enjoying Davy’s company, chatting easily to him about his home life and making him feel that someone was taking an interest in him. Nicholas could still not understand why the boy had misbehaved so much at Firethorn’s house and put it down to the proximity of the other apprentices. Attacking three of the other boys was Davy’s form of defence. They had mocked him continuously since his arrival. He could take no more.
‘Do you like being with Westfield’s Men?’ asked Anne.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Davy. ‘I love it at the rehearsals.’
‘What sort of an actor do you want to be when you grow up?’
‘I want to be like Master Firethorn.’
‘Nobody is quite like him, Davy,’ said Nicholas, fondly. ‘Lawrence Firethorn is the best actor in London. Even his rivals concede that.’
‘Then I’ll try to be more like Master Gill.’
Anne suppressed a smile. ‘He, too, would be very difficult to imitate.’
‘But he makes me laugh so,’ said Davy, ‘and he’s a wonderful dancer.’
‘You’ll learn a lot from simply watching Barnaby Gill,’ said Nicholas. ‘And the rest of the players, for that matter. Owen Elias is a fine actor. So is Edmund Hoode when he has the right part.’
‘What about George Dart?’
‘George tries. He may never actually succeed, but he never stops trying.’
‘Why does everyone make fun of him?’
‘Because they don’t appreciate him, Davy. George Dart loves the company so much that he’d die for Westfield’s Men. Get to know him better,’ advised Nicholas. ‘In his own quiet way, George has a lot to teach you as well.’
They walked on until the church came into sight. People were converging on it from all directions and they had to slow right down when they reached the porch. As they shuffled forward in the queue, Davy was ahead of them, allowing Nicholas to have a private word with Anne. He leant over to whisper to her.
‘I think you’ve tamed him, Anne.’
‘He doesn’t seem to need any taming.’
‘You should speak to Lawrence Firethorn.’
‘Was the boy really that bad?’ she said.
‘Apparently.’
‘I hope that they had a quieter night out in Shoreditch last night.’
‘I’m sure that they did,’ said Nicholas. ‘Without young Davy to set them all by the heels, they’ll have had no problems. I expect that they’re kneeling down in church at this moment to offer up a prayer to the Almighty for sending them Anne Hendrik.’ He gave her a warm smile. ‘I intend to do the same thing myself.’
Religion had only an uncertain hold on Lawrence Firethorn. Though he could be seized with Christian zeal on rare occasions, he could also blithely forget some of the Ten Commandments at times and lapse unthinkingly into sinful behaviour without any compunction. Guilt and repentance invariably followed but they were only temporary restraints. Sunday, however, brought out the spiritual side of him and not merely because his company were unable to play on the Sabbath by virtue of the fact that the Queen’s Head was within the city limits. The Theatre and The Curtain, both in Shoreditch, enjoyed the freedom of being outside city jurisdiction and performed regularly on Sundays. Turning his back on his rivals, Firethorn preferred to celebrate it as a day of rest.
Marshalled by his wife, the whole household, ten of them in all, set off for the parish church in strict formation. The apprentices led the way, the children came next, Firethorn and his wife were on their tail and the two servants brought up the rear. They took up a whole bench in the freezing cold knave, squeezing tightly up against each other in the interests of warmth. After he had said his prayers, Firethorn, seated by the aisle, glanced along the row at juvenile faces that were either drawn with fatigue or glazed with boredom. He was content. Order had been restored. The absence of Davy Stratton had allowed the house to resume its quiet, normal, unhurried pace. Margery Firethorn was thinking the same thing.
‘Where do you imagine he is now, Lawrence?’ she hissed.
‘Davy?’ he said. ‘He’s probably making Anne’s life a misery.’
‘Nick would never allow that.’
‘No, Margery. On second thoughts, I think you’re right. If anyone can control him, it’s Nick. Maybe the fault isn’t in Davy at all but in us.’
‘Us?’ she repeated, bridling. ‘Are you criticising me, Lawrence?’
He grinned. ‘I’d never dare do that, my love. Least of all in a church.’
‘Good.’
‘Shoreditch is not the ideal place for Davy to be. That’s all I meant. Trapped inside a small house in this dreadful weather where we’re all falling over each other. The lad will be fine once we’re out on the road.’
‘That wasn’t what Nick and Owen Elias found.’
‘True,’ he conceded.
‘Davy ran away from them.’
‘But he came back in due course.’
‘From what you told me, it sounded as if his father dragged him back.’