The Apothecary’s Apprentice 15


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

With effort, Jennet put her mind to her work and began measuring almond oil into her distillation, adding fixative and a drop of sandalwood for depth of fragrance.

Thus the day continued, with the master adjusting his prices according to the customer and making a substantial profit.

Jennet forced herself to remember her place, keep her expression bland and only speak when spoken to.

All the same, the sheer dishonesty of it hammered on her mind, along with Thomas’s uncharacteristic attitude that morning.

There was also the puzzling disappearance of her silken headdress.

Had it fallen from her pocket? How could she have been so careless?

It was a long day, fraught with frustrations, and Jennet was not sorry when closing time came round.

On leaving, she recalled that her father was working an extra shift that evening and supper would be late.

She would put off heading home and go in search of her headdress.

She set off, making for Beam Heath and the elm copse where she and Anthony had met. It was the sensible place to start.

Away from town, the air took on a dewy freshness.

The evening was fine, shadows lengthening.

Jennet retraced her steps of the previous day, scanning the ground.

There was nothing.

She pressed on hopefully, and was crossing the heath when a voice called out.

“Jennet? Ho, there! Jennet!”

Thomas was approaching.

“Jennet, what a surprise. No hurrying home tonight?”

“Not just yet. I have some time to myself. It’s good to get some fresh air after being cooped inside.”

She spoke in a rush. It wasn’t fibbing, but even so she felt badly about it. She had never been evasive with Thomas.

She indicated the bulging linen bags he carried.

“You look burdened. What is it?”

“Spagnum moss. Cecily makes a cleansing wash with it for the house. She swears it protects against ill humours and fleas.”

“Grandmother says the same. It was recommended by John Gerard.”

“The Nantwich herbalist?”

“He’s an apothecary now in London Town. He’s done well for himself. He’s been appointed curator of the Royal College of Physicians’ Physic Garden, which has heightened his status.”

“You are well informed.”

“Grandmother has contacts. She is a staunch supporter of Master Gerard’s teachings. She saw his potential when he lived here as a boy.”

“What are your thoughts, Jennet? Would you follow in John Gerard’s footsteps to London?”

“I cannot say. It’s hard to think further than gaining my apothecary title.

“But London? Perils await a lone female there.”

“Is that not the case anywhere?”

Thomas’s brown eyes narrowed tellingly and Jennet tried not to squirm.

Could he have found out about her liaison with Anthony? Surely not.

No-one could possibly know of those meetings in the elm copse.

“Perhaps. Maybe it’s best to take it a step at a time,” she replied lightly.

“Happen so,” Thomas agreed.

They sauntered towards a grassy bank and sat.

“Did you make the delivery to Grandmother?” Jennet asked.

Thomas shook his head.

“No. I’ve been with Cecily on the stall all day. I shall go on the morrow.”

“She’ll be glad of it.” Jennet hesitated. “Thomas, this morning you seemed bothered. Did I upset you?”

“You? No. Of course not.”

Only partly mollified, Jennet tried again.

“Is it the past, then? I know the mystery of it plagues you. Can you not put it aside and accept the present for what it is?”

Thomas’s face twisted.

“No, I cannot!” he said roughly. “Somewhere out there I might have people of my own blood.

“People who years ago may have searched for me and, finding no trace, given me up for lost. Had Amos and the others not come across me that time . . .”

“You would have perished. You were a child, Thomas. Barely capable of lisping your name.

“Amos and Cecily Tewke took you in out of the goodness of their hearts. They brought you up.”

“I am grateful. I shall always be in their debt, but I shall never belong. The gatherers are a wandering folk and I sometimes crave a more settled existence.”

“Agnetta would not take to that.”

“Nor would I expect it. My duty is here. Amos calls me his sonner.”

“And you are, in all that matters,” Jennet replied. “What would you have done? Left a small defenceless child in the forest to fend for himself?”

“I would have delayed travelling on and made enquiries.”

Jennet was thoughtful.

“Then the authorities would have moved in, and there is no knowing where you might have ended up.

“As it is, you have grounding in a way of life that earns you a living,” she pointed out.

“And memories, Jennet. Vague, insubstantial, but there. A woman, gentle of voice. Perfumed, loving.

“All I have of her is a damaged adornment. What happened, Jennet? I shall never rest till I discover the truth of it.”

The broken necklet of seed pearls and blue gems set in gold was Thomas’s greatest treasure.

There was nothing she could do that would bring him ease of mind.

Those clouded wisps of memory would be there, taunting him, until the day he drew his last breath.

To be continued…


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