The Apothecary’s Apprentice 08


Allison Hay © Jennet and Anthony meeting. All characters for the daily serial The Apothecary's Apprentice

Presently his home came into view.

“Tes a fine house,” Jennet said wistfully.

“Aye. Papa had it built when our old place was destroyed in the Great Fire. We were fortunate to have rescued the bulk of the family possessions.”

“We lost every stick and chattel,” Jennet informed him. “’Twere due to the townsfolk that my grandmother’s goodwifery needs were replaced.

“Measuring scales, pestle and mortar, pots and jars. We could never have afforded it ourselves.

“We lived in the clothes we stood up in and slept wherever we could lay our heads.”

“My papa rebuilt the mine workers’ homes as soon as he could,” Anthony pointed out, aggrieved.

It had been once the Queen’s donation was received, Nantwich being eligible for royal patronage due to its prominence as a salt town.

“That must have been a blessing for you.”

Jennet shrugged.

“’Twas a rooftree, much the same as the other. Myself, I would live in a proper house with a patch of ground to grow my stillroom plants.”

“Your hopes do you credit, maid. But here.” Anthony delved into his doublet pocket. “This caught my attention in the haberdasher’s window.

“It called you to mind.”

It was a silken scarf in a shade of violet blue that matched her eyes.

“Oh, tes so soft and fine!” Jennet exclaimed. “But I cannot accept it. What would I tell them at home?”

“That it is a token of esteem from a customer. Or regard it a keepsake.

“Have you no small coffer of some sort? Honoria has one from the Orient. She hides her treasures in it.”

Jennet nodded.

“Mine is a carved box Thomas made from some cedar wood Amos Tewke brought back from foreign parts. It has a lock and key.”

“There you are, then,” Anthony replied. “Take the scarf, Jennet. Remember me when you look at it.”

To his delight, she did so, thanking him shyly and tucking it away in a pocket inside her cape.

“Will I see you again next Sunday?” he asked.

“I cannot say,” she told him.

But her violet eyes smiled and he knew she would be there.


“There you are,” Grandmother Eira said as Jennet entered the houseplace of the terraced cottage on Queen Street.

“Colour in your cheeks, too,” she added. “The walk has done you good.”

Jennet felt her face flame. She had never before deceived her grandmother and could not quite meet the searching black gaze.

“I went on the heath. The primmyroses are showing. Tes early for them.”

“Did you not think to gather me some? Fie, child, what came over you? You know how I need them for my syrup.”

“They were still tight in bud. There is always plenty to go round.” Jennet shrugged. “Where are Mother and Father?”

She knew that look of her grandmother’s. Not much escaped her notice.

It was said that Eira could see into a person’s very soul. Jennet could not argue with that.

“Your mother is gone to the standpipe for water, and your father is visiting an injured collier.

“The poor fellow gashed his hand badly on a rusted salt pan and the wound has turned septic.”

“He is running a fever?”

“I have provided a remedy against that, and salve to draw out the badness. ’Twill mend, though he will not be seen at the pit a while yet.”

Grandmother tutted her disdain.

“Tes not the first accident of its kind, indeed! Your father says the equipment is worn out and needs replacing, but tell that to Venables at your peril!”

Guilt gnawed at Jennet. To think she’d been walking with the son of a man who wielded such power.

She thought of the silken scarf in her cape pocket, given so casually, the cost of which was likely more than a man’s weekly wage.

But Anthony was not to know how his papa’s employees eked out their miserable lives.

His world was a different one entirely.

She pictured him: tall, well-favoured, the easy charm, smiling blue gaze and confident manner. She could not help but like him.

She admired his educated way of speaking and thought perhaps she might learn a lesson from that.

It was clear that he cared greatly about his twin, and that was to his credit.

“Where are you off to?” her grandmother enquired.

“Upstairs to put away my cape,” Jennet replied.

And the scarf, she added silently, heading for the staircase and her garret room under the thatch.

To be continued…