to sit down again on the low wall in front of the railings. Then, with a huge harrumphing effort, she sat herself down next to her.
She let her wheezing breath steady a bit, still holding tight to Lizzie’s arm to stop her from running off. “I want to know,” she said, “why a young girl like you was dashing across the road like that as if she had no eyes to see with and no ears to hear with.” She glared at Lizzie. “Seems to me like you’re in trouble. Is that right? Really big trouble.”
“I am. I broke two cups and saucers, and two tea plates and a teapot.”
The milk woman let out a sigh like the blurt a horse makes through its nostrils. “And that’s enough to make you nearly kill Lame Betsy, is it? And her horse, and yourself? Is it?”
Lizzie shrugged. She thought it probably wasn’t.
“So is you running away because you’s frightened?”
Lizzie bit her lip. Yes, she had been frightened of the two Dearies. She was frightened of Judd. She had been terribly frightened when she had dropped the tray down the stairs; she could still hear the echoing shriek and clatter it had made, the terrifying din of shame. But that wasn’t everything she was frightened of, and she couldn’t find the words to tell Lame Betsy any of it, so she shook her head.
“Let me tell you something. You only run away when things are so bad that you can’t go on living in that place no more. I should know. When I was your age I ran away from a dad what beat me, and a ma what drank herself senseless. Is it that bad for you?”
Lizzie shook her head.
“And if you go back to that place, is there no one there what’d be glad to see you? Cos if you just glance over the road, you’ll see two people coming along what seems to be looking for someone. There’s a cook from a big house who I just happens to know is the kindest person on God’s earth, and she’s got a person with her who’s pretty enough to be your own sister.” Lame Betsy let go of Lizzie’s arm. “You’ve got a choice, girl. You can carry on running, or you can go and tell them you’re sorry for what you did.” She grabbed a railing and hoisted herself up. “Me, I’ve got to go and find Albert before he trots home all by himself with no milk delivered.”
As soon as Lizzie stood up, Emily spotted her across the traffic of wagons and horses. “She’s there, Rosie! She’s safe!”
They threaded their way across the road and Emily hugged her sister as if she hadn’t seen her for a week; tight, tight, just as Ma used to do. “Never do that again,” she whispered. “Never run off without me, Lizzie.”
“My word, you gave us a fright. We thought you was lost for good. London is like a maze, girl. We could have been looking for hours,” Rosie said. “And, if Judd knows I’ve left the kitchen without her permission she’ll have me hung, drawn and quartered. It’s all my fault too. I should never have sent you up to the Dearies. They got you all jittery, I’ll be bound. And I should have warned you about that door. I’ve got the trick of it now, and so has Judd, but it comes shut on you like a charging bull if you don’t step out of the way quick enough.”
“But I broke all that china, and Judd said you’ve got to pay for it.”
“Poof! They never get given the best china, as Judd well knows, because they’ve got a habit of chucking it at the wall if the tea’s too hot or too cold or too weak or too strong. They must have it just right, or they just hurl it across the room! We keep a good stock in for them and we pick it up cheap in the market when we see it. Come on, girls, let’s get back, shall we?”
She hurried away, leaving Emily and Lizzie to try to keep up with her.
“What are the Dearies like, really?” Emily asked. “The dreary Dearies!”
“Ghosts and skeletons!” Lizzie giggled, making her voice wobble. “Who is it? Give me more tea. Who is it?” She skipped along, happy now. She was with Emily again, and nobody had told her off for anything. “More tea!”
Rosie turned round on her suddenly, her face snapped shut with anger. “Don’t you go making fun of the Dearies. They’re old, is all, a pair of old dears, and they can’t help that. And we’ll all be like that one day, even you, if you don’t keep barging into cart horses.”
Emily clasped Lizzie’s hand. “Don’t worry about Rosie. She’s upset,” she mouthed. “She should be busy in the kitchen by now.”
They had almost reached the Big House when a smart black and gold carriage drew up close to the main door. A liveried driver jumped down to open the carriage door, and two very tall women climbed out, dusting themselves down and complaining loudly that he had jolted them about like sacks of turnips. Two other women climbed out after them, clutching carpetbags as the driver handed them down from the back.
Rosie turned abruptly and put out her hands to stop the girls from going any further. She lowered her head. “Lor, oh lor, it’s the two mistresses. They weren’t due back till next week. Don’t look at them, whatever you do don’t let them notice you,” she hissed. “Turn round and go back. Have they gone inside yet?”
Emily risked a quick look over her shoulder. “They’re looking at us,” she whispered.
“Oh my, I could faint. I could pass out stone cold. They’ve seen me now, so I must go on as if I’ve been on an errand for Judd. That’s it. What you must do, you must carry on walking as if you don’t know me, and when the mistresses have gone in and the door’s shut behind them, run round quick and come in our door. Now scarper.”
Emily and Lizzie walked sharply away from her without looking back until they reached the corner. They paused as if they were waiting for someone, and Emily turned her head quickly towards the house. She saw Rosie walk steadily towards the women, bobbing to them as she passed, and then going down the steps to the servants’ quarters.
“Why was she so frightened?” Lizzie asked.
“I think she’s scared she might lose her job.”
“Because of us?”
Emily said nothing, just watched the trundling carts, the bustle of passers-by. The main house door closed, the driver climbed back into his seat and urged his pair of horses to walk on, and still they waited.
“I haven’t eaten anything yet,” Lizzie said.
Emily nodded. “All right. We’ll go in. It should be quite safe now.” She began to walk towards the house. “Poor Rosie. Poor Rosie. What have we done to her? If only you hadn’t run off like that, Lizzie! What were you thinking of?”
“It was because of yesterday. When Ma left us behind …”
“She had to. You know that. She had no choice.”
“Rosie said she’d speak up for you.”
“I know.”
“But she said she’d take me to her sister’s in Sunbury.”
“I
