The Guinea Thief - Chapter 12 The road to London

Jack kept a close eye on the road through the window of the Half Moon to ensure they didn’t miss the stage. As Queenie had promised, at ten twenty-five precisely the canary yellow carriage pulled up outside the inn. Across the carriage doors was proudly emblazoned the name, Robert Gray & Co. The red coated driver was sporting a stylish beaver hat and navy and cream spotted cravat. Up on the outside box seats were three male passengers. They waved cheerily to Jack and Delphine.
Inside the stage there was just one passenger, a woman. Jack and Delphine sat down on the seat opposite grateful neither of them would have to share with her, as she was a rather large lady.
“The driver’s boy poked his head through the carriage.
“No luggage sir?” he seemed disappointed.
“No, no luggage.”
When the boy had gone Jack explained to Delphine. “No luggage, no tip.”
“Oh I see.”
The driver jumped back onto his box and with a quick flick of his wrist the horses spurred into life and they were off on the road to London. The coach stopped at Liphook and two more passengers got on the outside seats. They were two young girls and Jack soon heard them giggling as the three men set about flirting with their new companions.
“I bet those fellows are sailors fresh off the boat. They’ll have money burning a hole in their pockets and they haven’t seen a woman in months, if not years. “
“Do you think the girls will be alright?”
“Well if they are smart the least they will do is get a free lunch out of them. When we stop at Godalming, there’s a forty five minute break. Long enough to get some lunch. Then the coach runs fast all the way to London. ”
Looking out of the window Delphine appeared to see the same rolling green hills, square stone church, rustic village pub and row of thatched cottages every few miles. Their fellow passenger had fallen into a deep sleep and was snoring loudly with her mouth wide open, a venus fly trap and just as sticky. Every now and then she would give out one very loud snore and her mouth would snap shut. Each time it happened Jack winked at Delphine and she struggled to stifle her laughter. Delphine loved the freedom of being on the open road and the prospect of arriving in London both frightened and excited her. When she and Jack had discussed it just this morning it had seemed just an idea, a familiar enough name, but with no reality attached to it.
“Jack have you ever been to London before?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Really, this is your first time too? I was going to ask you what it’s like.”
“Robert says it’s dirty and full of people. It’s a bit like the Point, only a hundred times bigger and everything costs double. He said you spend more time putting your hand in your pocket in London than anywhere else in the world. Everybody wants a penny for something, no-one does anything for free.”
Delphine noticed a drumming sound coming from the roof of the stagecoach and then a squeak from one of the girls. Looking out of the window, she saw it was pouring with rain.
“It’s started to rain. Those passengers on top are going to get soaked.” said Delphine.
“Well that’s why the seats are cheaper. But they would have been lucky to get away without a soaking. I swear it rains more between Petersfield and Guildford than any other part of Hampshire. It’s like they have their own special rain clouds on top of these hills.”
Above their heads, Delphine heard the driver ask.
“Would you like a tarpaulin to put over you? It helps keep out the worst. “
“Thanks.” said one of the men. “That would be grand.” He had a broad Scottish accent, which matched his ginger beard.
Despite the rain the driver didn’t slow the horses. He had a time to keep to and it seemed he planned to arrive on time come rain or shine.
“I expect he gets a bonus for being on time. Like I said, in London, no-one does anything for free.”

Just after one o’clock they arrived in the yard of the Kings Arms, Godalming, two other coaches were already there. As Jack and Delphine stepped out of the coach the driver was checking his pocket watch.
“Ladies, gentlemen, I’m pleased to say we are running perfectly to time. We are scheduled to depart promptly at two this afternoon. If you’d care to inform them in the dining room that you are travelling on Bill’s coach and he’d be obliged if you had eaten and settled up before five to the hour, it should ensure that your luggage and you don’t have a parting of the ways. I suggest you don’t order anything fancy or I can guarantee you’ll have to choose between it and your seat on the coach. Wouldn’t be the last time, and I’m sure as eggs it won’t be the last. ”
Delphine was glad of the stop, the coach was comfortable enough, the plush seats were well padded. But still the winter road was full of pot holes and puddles and however hard the turnpike men had tried to maintain the road it was still a bumpy ride at full speed.
“Should we have woken the lady?” asked Delphine as they walked away.
“The driver will do it don’t worry. He probably earns a commission from the cook, and she looks like she enjoys a good lunch. Anyhow I have a feeling she’s going to be snoring even louder after she’s eaten, unless of course she’s already full up with flies. We should put in our order as soon as we can, it’s going to be busy.
The three sailors from the top of the coach were having lunch with the two young serving girls who’d joined them at Liphook. The red headed one waved and invited Jack and Delphine to join them at their table. Over lunch Delphine learned that the two girls were cousins, who now worked in grand houses in London, and were returning from their annual one week visit home. They had been maids in London since they were twelve years old and the place where they grew up seemed alien and strange to them now. They couldn’t imagine ever coming back to live there again. As for the three men Jack was right. All three men had just been discharged from HMS Amazon after a number of months at sea. They kept the whole table amused with their stories of the Battle of Copenhagen and Nelson’s visit to their ship after the battle was won. The highlight of lunch was when the three sailors re-enacted the last moments of their commanding officer at Copenhagen. But when one of the sailors offered to show the ladies his battle scars Delphine almost choked on her bread roll. Fortunately the sailor was interrupted by the arrival in the dining hall of the coachman’s boy to tell them that the coach was leaving in five minutes and they needed to settle up and get going. Delphine leant across to Jack and slipped a gold coin under the table so he could pay the bill without losing face. The sailors had already offered to pay for the two young girls. Jack felt the cold hard metal on his thigh and reached down to see what it was. Surprised and grateful he grasped the coin and stood up.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to go and pay.” Jack said.
Delphine jumped up to visit the ladies powder room, aware it was her last chance before London. As she left the table she said. “Thank you so much for your wonderful stories, it was great fun.”
By the time Delphine got back to the coach Jack was already waiting for her.
“We’ve been joined by another passenger. One of us is going to have to squeeze in next to the lady as there is no way she can fit in next to him.”
“Well I guess it had better be me. She’ll squash you into a pulp.” Delphine whispered.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll just think of her as a giant cushion.”
“Well you aren’t far wrong!”
Delphine giggled. “Shush! She’ll hear us.” The lady in question was approaching the carriage. The three sailors and the two young girls also tumbled out of the inn and into the courtyard. One of the sailors climbed aboard and gallantly offered his hand to the girls.
“Perhaps you two lassies would like to sit next to me this time?”
“Oh no Mr MacSween, it wouldn’t be right.”
“Thank-you girls.” said the red headed sailor stood waiting patiently for the girls to climb aboard.
“MacSween you really have got to learn to share.” The redbearded sailor scrambled on to the box and doffed his cap to the two young ladies opposite him. “I have to apologise for my ship mate. He left his manners back at the dockyard gate.”
The passengers had all arrived not a moment too soon. The driver flamboyantly checked his pocket watch and climbed on top of his box .
“Last call for the London stage from Portsmouth. Non-stop to Fleet Street.” shouted his boy. “Please could you seat yourselves inside now Sir, Madame. We needs to be off.”
As soon as the boy shut the door behind them the coach began to move forward and Delphine, still standing inside the coach, fell against the upholstered lady. Fortunately Delphine bounced off without hurting either party and was quickly able to take her seat. Jack could not stop laughing, and Delphine burst into a fit of giggles. Fortunately the other passenger had buried himself in his copy of the Times and so missed the whole thing.
Delphine got herself as comfortable as possible next to her over-sized companion. Compared to the day they travelled to Sheet , this was a very jolly journey and if it had not been for the reason for their going it would have been a fun adventure indeed. Through the window Delphine could see that road began to get busier. The gaps between villages was getting smaller, then once more there was a hill and lots of trees, and no more houses. Finally the carriage began to slow down. Jack leant out of the window to get a better look.
“I think I can see the Thames.”
“Really? Let me see.”
Ahead of them lay a river. It was alive with boats. There were ferry men, lighter men, sailing barges large and small. Barely an inch of river seemed to be unused. On the far side of the river bank Delphine could see teams of fishermen casting their nets. On this side of the river there were grand houses on either side of the street, and up ahead a fine old church and a wooden bridge. As they approached the bridge the driver’s boy slipped down and went to pay the toll at the toll booth.
“If you ladies and gent’s on top wouldn’t mind jumping down a moment. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to walk across the bridge. Putney’s not the sturdiest of bridges and I would hates for yer to be pitched headfirst into the water as we make our way across.”
The sailors and the girls jumped down, the girls clutching the tarpaulin around their shoulders, although the rain had stopped some time before.
“Delphine poked her head out of the coach.
“Is it alright if we walk too?”
“Of course. But no dawdling. I want to be on time, and the traffic can be terrible at this time of an evening.”
Delphine jumped down and Jack scrambled out beside her.
“That was a good idea.”
“I needed to stretch my legs, and I was soo squashed. I’m sure I’m going to be bruised in the morning!”
“How can you get bruises from a cushion?!”
“Well you try it then!”
“Alright we can switch, I’ll go the last few miles with Mistress Pillow.”Fortunately the noise from the coach rumbling across the bridge drowned out their comments, so the large lady was rather surprised to find herself partnered up afresh for the last seven miles of the journey. However she soon settled back to snoozing.
Delphine and Jack looked out of the window each determined not to miss any of the sites they passed by, but the light was fading fast. The coach was slowed down a little by the amount of traffic, but the road was wide and well paved. They quickly left behind the villages of Fulham, and Chelsea and Kensington and headed past St James Park surrounded by dazzling torches .
“Why have they lit the park at night?”
“I don’t rightly know.” said Jack as bemused as Delphine was.
Surrounding the park were a number of very grand houses indeed, and soon they could see glimpses of the river again. The road was the widest Delphine had ever seen but even so it was filled with carriages and horses, sedan chairs, soldiers and sailors, men women and children all purposely heading somewhere. Everyone seemed in a hurry to be somewhere. A light mist hung in the air and the torches illuminating the street glowed eerily green. At last they turned into the courtyard of number sixty-six Fleet Street, the Bolt-in-Tun, end of the line for the stagecoach.