The Apothecary’s Apprentice 36
The Apothecary's Apprentice
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- 1. The Apothecary’s Apprentice 36
The demise of Goodwife Parry hit everyone hard, not least the poorer people of Nantwich.
In recognition of her devoted service to them, and with no resources available within the Parry family, the town clubbed together and, on a day of mellow sunshine, Eira Parry was laid to rest at Acton Church.
Of all the Parrys, Jennet was the one most affected by the loss.
“I cannot believe she is gone,” she confessed to Thomas in the garden at the rear of the shop.
September was marching on with misty dawns, eggshell blue skies and colder nights.
The leaves on the cherry tree were turning to russet and gold, and a few drifted down on to grass that was spangled with dew.
The young blackbirds had flown, but the parent birds were still here, pecking for grubs in the Michaelmas daisies of the flower borders.
Away from the town, the melancholy tang of the dying year was strong on the air.
Thomas led Jennet to the arbour, where rose-hips blazed crimson on the bough and the splashy fountain played.
He pressed her gently on to the seat and sat down beside her, taking her hand in his.
“Ah, Jennet. I appreciate how hard it must be for you without your grandmama. I, too, miss her. She was a great lady.”
“I know,” Jennet wailed. “And now she is gone.”
“She lived life to the full and continued working at what she loved to the end. She will always be in your heart,” Thomas reminded her.
“But I keep expecting to see her in the stillroom or about the town, and she never will be again. How will I cope without her?”
“You will because you are strong, as she was. She would have trusted you to carry on her good work.”
Jennet brushed at her tears with the back of her hand.
“Mother says that. She says it is only a matter of time before someone seeks me out.
“Not here at the shop, of course,” she added. “None can afford Henry Gryce’s prices. It will be when I go on into the town.”
Thomas nodded.
“Your mama is right. Be glad that you can carry on the teachings of John Gerard in your grandmama’s place.”
Thomas gave her a smile.
“Shall you use her simples box?”
“No. It is a treasured keepsake. I shall use the simples box you made me.
“I will transfer Grandmother’s salves and potions into it. It will be a start.”
Thomas’s smile broadened.
“It will indeed. And, this way, you will establish a name in your own right.”
Jennet was silent.
The fountain played on. The blackbird fluttered up into the cherry tree and perched there, regarding them with bright eyes.
Thomas gave Jennet’s shoulders a comforting squeeze.
“Better now?”
She nodded, sniffing.
“Yes. Taking over as goodwife will suffice for now.
“Eventually I shall open a shop where everyone is welcome, whatever the social order.
“It was what Grandmother meant for me. I shall not let her down.”
“I am sure of it,” Thomas said quietly.
Would that he had the means to help her win her goal.
All he had to offer was friendship, encouragement and a shoulder to lean on.
That, Thomas determined sorrowfully, would have to be enough.
From an upstairs casement, Henry Gryce observed the couple in the garden below.
Jennet might think that Thomas Tewke was nothing more than a friend, but Gryce had to wonder.
He ran his fingers through his beard.
He had no quibble with Tewke. He liked the youngster, and Tewke had clearly been at the mercy of one who had wished him harm.
Now, in his reduced straits, the lad was surely no threat to another man’s marital aspirations.
Gryce was a renowned apothecary with a wealthy clientele; what young woman would not leap at the chance to become his spouse?
He needed to step up his courtship of Jennet.
He would give the matter some careful thought. If all failed, there was the handsome widow on the Waterlode to consider.
Their Sunday afternoon strolls together were pleasurable enough. She was intelligent and managing.
But of the two, Jennet was his first choice.