Christian or otherwise, that was in fact the case. The communication had passed between Simplicity and Dodger almost by telepathy; this had to be a time to relax, heal and, well, enjoy the world. And the world itself seemed to enjoy them, because they were quite free with their money, and although the girl was rather modest, as a maiden ought to be, she took every opportunity to chat to people. She seemed very keen to speak like they did in the Somerset accent, which might have been called bucolic because it was slow. It was indeed slow, because it dealt with things that were slow – like cheese and milk and the seasons, and smuggling and the brewing of fiery liquors in places where the excise men dared not go – and in those places, while the speech was slow, thought and action could be very fast indeed.
And Dodger learned fast, because on the streets a quick uptake was the only one to have and you never got a second chance. At first his head ached with a language that seemed made up of corn and cows. But the learning was helped along by the drink the locals called scrumpy, and after a while he was talking like them as well. His head filled up with words like ‘Mendip’, ‘priddy’ and ‘bist’, and conglomerations of a language whose rhythms were not the stacatto of the town but practically had something that you could call a melody. There are more types of disguise, he thought, than just putting on a different kind of shirt or changing your hair.
One morning, as they walked by the river, he said to Simplicity, ‘I never asked you before. But why did you have the game of Happy Families?’
The Somerset accent wobbled a little as she said, ‘My mother gave it to me and, you see, I always wanted to have one thing – something that was mine, when nothing else was. I used to look at it and think how one day things would be better, and now I think they are, after the wretched time I had.’
She beamed at him, and the little speech, combined with the smile, warmed the cockles of Dodger’s heart, and carried on going further down.
It was about this time that in London – a place where people spoke so fast that you never saw where your money had gone – a lady called Angela stepped out of a coach in Seven Dials, the coach then being immediately guarded by two strapping footmen, and climbed up a set of stairs and knocked gently on the door to an attic.
It was opened by Solomon, who said, ‘Mmm, ah, Miss Angela, thank you so much for coming. May I tempt you to some green tea? I am afraid you have to take us as we are, but I have cleaned up as best I can, and don’t mind Onan; the smell does disappear after a while, I can assure you.’
Angela laughed at that and said, ‘Do you have any news?’
‘Indeed, mmm,’ said Solomon. ‘I have had a letter – surprisingly well written – from Dodger, from York, where he went to grieve, because there he won’t see anything that reminds him of poor dear Simplicity.’
Angela picked up the spotlessly cleaned tea cup and said, ‘York, well, yes indeed, how very fitting. Has anyone else enquired of you of Dodger’s whereabouts, pray?’
Solomon filled her cup meticulously, saying, ‘I got these in Japan, you know? I am amazed that they have survived as long as I have.’ He glanced up, and with a face as straight as a plumb line, said, ‘Sir Robert was kind enough to send two of his constables to visit me two days ago, and they did ask about Mister Dodger’s whereabouts, and so of course mmm, I had to tell them all that I knew, which is of course my duty as a good citizen.’ His smile broadened and he said, ‘I always think one should lie to policemen; it is so very good for the soul and, indeed, good for the policemen.’
Angela grinned and said, ‘You may or may not be surprised, Mister Cohen, that I too have had a communication from a nameless person, giving me details of a place in London and – isn’t this quite exciting? – a time as well. This is rather fun, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Solomon, ‘although I must say my life has been altogether too full of this kind of fun, so I now prefer working here in my old carpet slippers, where fun does not usually interrupt my concentration. Oh dear, where are my manners? I do have some wonderful rice cakes here, my dear. Bought them from Mister Chang, and very excellent they are too. Do please help yourself.’
Angela accepted the proffered cake and said, ‘Should you meet the young Mister Dodger again, please do tell him that I have reason to believe that the authorities would indeed like to speak to him, not because he has done anything wrong, but because he has the capacity, they think, to do some things very right, and for the good of the country. The offer is open.’ She hesitated for a moment and added, ‘When I mention the word authorities, I mean the highest authority.’
Most unusually, Solomon looked surprised, and said, ‘When you say “highest”, you mean . . .?’
‘Not the Almighty,’ said Angela, ‘at least not as far as I know, but definitely the next best thing – a lady who could make some parts of Mister Dodger’s life somewhat easier. I rather think that this is an invitation that would not be repeated if ignored.’
‘Mmm, really? Well, in that case I’d better get my morning dress suit from Jacob and have it cleaned, shall I?’
Quite apart from the cider, the fresh air, the cheese and the stars, the young couple making friends with everybody in the town of Axbridge also got a taste for wall fruit, which the girl had told them was called by the French escargot, while in Somerset they were snails and be damned if they tried to be anything else.
All in all, the pair were a source of amiable mystery to the townsfolk, and everyone seemed to have their own anecdote about the couple, and speculated about them; the lady who did the church flowers said she had seen them in the lane by the river with some kids, teaching them a game called Happy Families. And a farmer declared that he had seen them sitting on a gate with the girl teaching the lad to read, or so it seemed, correcting his pronunciation and everything, for all the world like a school teacher. But, the farmer maintained, the lad seemed to enjoy the whole business and one of the farmer’s mates then mentioned to the regulars in the pub that he had seen the lad every night lying on the warm grass and watching the stars. He said, ‘It were as if the poor devil had never seen them before.’
On the last day, as they said their goodbyes, one of their new friends, who had a pony and trap, took them back up the road to the pub at Star. He took a minor detour on the way to show them the field wherein there was a stone which, it was said, possibly by people who drank all that cider, came alive on some nights and danced around the field.
At that point, just after they had finished watching the stone, in case it was inclined to attempt a little jig for the tourists, Dodger said to his girlfriend in the pure, rustic tones of Somersetshire, ‘Oi reckon we oughta be moving along now, moi goyirl.’
She, smiling like the sun, said, ‘Where bi’st to, my lover?’
Dodger smiled and said, ‘Lunnon.’
And she said, ‘Where folk be so queer, not like ussun.’
Then she kissed him and he kissed her, and in tones more like those of Lunnon than Somerset, he said, ‘My love, do you thinks it possible, that a stone could dance?’
She said, ‘Well, Dodger, if anyone could make a stone dance, it would have to be you.’
After that, two locals from Somerset, who nevertheless had enough money to travel by coach, arrived in London from Bristol. Entirely disregarded, they disappeared into the throng, and paid for accommodation for a single lady in a respectable boarding house while the young man set off to Seven Dials.