Page 37 of The King's Man
The sisters exchanged glances.
‘We thought you was sweet on him or summat,’ May said
Thamsine forced a laugh. ‘Me? Sweet on Kit Lovell? What about you?’
To her surprise, Nan flushed. ‘Hard not to be a little sweet on him, I admit it, but he’s well set with that widow up in Holborn!’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, he’s not for the likes of May or I.’
There was the sound of heavy footsteps in the corridor outside. The turnkey appeared in the doorway like an avenging angel.
‘Time’s up. Out!’ He jerked a thumb at Nan.
Thamsine rose to her feet and embraced both the girls.
‘Thank you for coming. You’re better friends than I deserve.’
Nan patted her shoulder and broke the embrace.
‘That’s enough of that. Don’t need you getting all sentimental on me. I just does me bit that’s all.’
At the door she stopped. ‘It’ll all be right in the end, Thamsine. You see if it isn’t and if they lets you out, there’s a place for you at the Ship.’
Thamsine forced a smile. ‘I wish I had your optimism, Nan.’
Nan shook her head. ‘You be sure to guard that purse well. Turnkeys like this bastard are just as likely to sneak in while you are asleep and steal it.’ She gave the turnkey a foul look.
The door closed heavily behind the girls and an overwhelming sense of loneliness washed over Thamsine. She carefully packed away the provender that Nan had brought and counted the coins. Only enough to sustain her for a few more days.
She sighed and lay down on the cot with her arms behind her head, forcing her mind to return to the lute melody.
***
‘Colonel Barkstead says, seeing as it’s a fine day, you can take a turn on the walls,’ the turnkey said, holding the door open for Thamsine.
Since the twins’ visit, the walls of her cell had closed in around her, and the chance to walk on the walls and stretch her legs and her lungs was one she seized with alacrity.
Thamsine wrapped her cloak tighter around her as the cold wind blew in a gust off the river and turned her face to it, taking a deep, thankful breath. From her narrow walkway she could see down into the inner and outer courtyards of the Tower.
In the outer courtyards, children played while women stood and gossiped, babies or baskets of washing on their hips. Watching them gave her a feeling of normality. No one paid any heed to the prisoner on the wall above them.
A cheerful whistling diverted her attention to the inner courtyard. A prisoner, accompanied by a solitary guard, came through the gate. Despite being hampered by wrist and leg irons, he still managed a familiar swagger.
‘Lovell!’ She had yelled his name before she knew what she was saying.
He stopped whistling and looked up.
‘Thamsine Granville, as I live and breathe! “Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania”.’ He managed a clumsy bow, cut short as his escort hauled at his chains.
Kit lowered his head to speak to the man. The soldier shrugged and stepped back. Kit walked over to the wall and looked up at Thamsine. She crouched, looking down into his dirty, bruised, unshaven face.
Despite the ten yards of wall that lay between them, he grinned and spread his hands as wide as the manacles would let him.
‘Here we are, Thamsine. Still alive. Are they treating you well?’
She shrugged. ‘I suppose as well as could be expected in the circumstances.’ She managed a small smile. ‘But Nan Marsh has looked after me.’
‘Nan?’ Kit’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
‘Yes, she and May brought me a basket of food and some clean clothes.’
