Fingersmith

'What day is today, Nurse Bacon?'

'Punishment Day,' she'd answer, wincing and rubbing her hands.

Then there was the fear that, after all, Charles wouldn't come— that I had been too mad— that he would lose his nerve, or be overtaken by disaster. I thought of all the likely and unlikely things that might keep him from me— such as, his being seized by gipsies or thieves; run down by bulls; falling in with honest people, who would persuade him to go back home. One night it rained, and I thought of the ditch he was sleeping in filling up with water and him being drowned. Then there came thunder and lightning; and I imagined him sheltering under a tree, with a file in his hand . . .

The whole week passed like that. Then Wednesday came. Dr Graves and Dr Christie went off in their coach and, late in the morning, Nurse Spiller arrived at the door to our room, looked at me and said, 'Well, ain't we charming? There's a certain young shaver downstairs, come back for another visit. We shall be putting out the banns, at this rate ..." She led me down. In the hall, she gave me a poke. 'No monkeying about,'

she said.

This time, Charles looked more afraid than ever. We sat in the same two seats as before and, again, Nurse Spiller stood in the door-place and larked with the nurses in the hall. We sat for a minute in silence. His cheek was white as chalk. I said, in a whisper,

'Charles, did you do it?'

He nodded.

'The blank?'

He nodded again.

'The file?'

Another nod. I put my hand before my eyes.

'But the blank,' he said, in a complaining tone, 'cost nearly all my money. The locksmith said that some blanks are blanker than others. You never told me that. I got the blankest he had.'

I parted my fingers, and met his gaze.

'How much did you give him?' I asked.

'Three shillings, miss.'

Three shillings for a sixpenny blank! I covered my eyes again. Then, 'Never mind,' I said. 'Never mind. Good boy . . .'

Then I told him what he must do next. I said he must wait for me, that night, on the 292

other side of Dr Christie's park wall. I said he must find the spot where the highest tree grew, and wait for me there. He must wait all night, if he had to— for I could not say, for sure, how long my escape would take me. He must only wait, and be ready to run. And if I did not come at all, he must know that something had happened to stop me; and then he must come back the next night and wait again— he must do that, three nights over.

'And if you don't come, then?' he asked, his eyes wide.

'If I don't come then,' I said, 'you do this: you go to London, and you find out a street named Lant Street, and a lady that lives there,

named Mrs Sucksby; and you tell her where I am. God help me, Charles, that lady loves me!— and she'll love you, for being my friend. She'll know what to do.'

I turned my head. My eyes had filled with water. 'You got it?' I said at last. 'You swear?'

He said he did. 'Show me your hand,' I said then; and when I saw how it shook, I dared not let him try and slip me the blank and file, for fear he would drop them. He kept them in his pocket, and I hooked them out just before I left him— while Nurse Spiller looked on, laughing to see him kiss my cheek and blush. The file went up my sleeve. The blank I held on to— then, as I went upstairs, I stooped as if to tug up a stocking, and let it fall into one of my boots.

Then I lay on my bed. I thought of all the burglars I had ever heard of, and all the burglars' boasts. I was like them, now. I had my file, I had my blank. I had my pal on the other side of the madhouse wall. Now all I must do was get hold of a key, long enough to make my copy.

I did it like this.

That night, when Nurse Bacon sat in her chair and flexed her fingers, I said,

'Let me rub your hands for you tonight, Nurse Bacon, instead of Betty. Betty doesn't like it. She says the grease makes her smell like a chop.'

Betty's mouth fell open. 'Oh! Oh!' she cried.

' G o d h e l p u s , ' s a i d N u r s e B a c o n . ' A s i f t h i s h e a t w e r e n ' t e n o u g h . B e q u i e t , Betty!— Like a chop, did you say? And after all my kindness?'

'I never!' said Betty. 'I never!'

'She did,' I said. 'Like a chop, done up for the pan. You let me do it instead. Look how neat and soft my hands are.'

Nurse Bacon looked, not at my fingers, but at my face. Then she screwed up her eyes.

'Betty, shut up!' she said. 'What a row, and my flesh blazing. I'm sure I don't care who does it; but I'd rather a quiet girl than a noisy one. Here.' She put the tip of her thumb to the

edge of the pocket in her skirt and pulled it back. 'Fetch 'em out,' she said to me.

She meant her keys. I hesitated, then put in my hand and drew them up. They were warm from the heat of her leg. She watched me do it. 'That littlest one,' she said. I held it and let the others swing, then went to the cupboard and got out the jar of grease.

Betty lay on her stomach and kicked up her heels, weeping into her pillow. Nurse Bacon sat back and put up her cuffs. I sat beside her and worked the ointment in, all about her swollen hands, just as I had seen it done a hundred times. I rubbed for half 293

an hour. Now and then she winced. Then her eyes half closed and she gazed at me from beneath the lids. She gazed in a warm and thoughtful way, and almost smiled.

'Not so bad, is it?' she murmured. 'Eh?'

I didn't answer. I was thinking, not of her, but of the night and the work to come. If my colour was up, she must have taken it for a blush. If I seemed strange, and conscious of myself, what was that to her? We were all strange, there. When at last she yawned and drew her hands away, and stretched, my heart gave a thump; but she did not see it. I moved from her side, to take the ointment back to its cupboard. My heart thumped again. I had only a second to do what I needed to do. The loop of keys was hanging from the lock, the one I wanted— the one to the doors— hanging lowest. I did not plan to steal it, she would have noticed if I had. But men came all the time to Lant Street, with bits of soap, and putty, and wax ... I caught the key up and quickly but very carefully pressed it into the jar.

The grease took the shape of the bitting, good as anything. I looked at it once, then screwed on the lid and set the jar back on its shelf. The cupboard door I closed, but only pretended to lock. The key I wiped on my sleeve. I took it back to Nurse Bacon, and she opened up her pocket with the tip of her thumb, like before.

'Right in,' she said, as I made to put in the keys. 'All the way to the bottom. That's right.'

I would not meet her eye. I went to my bed, and she yawned, and sat in her chair and dozed, as she always did, until Nurse Spiller brought round our draughts. I had got used to taking mine, along

with the other ladies, but tonight I tipped it away— into the mattress, this time— then gave back my empty bowl. Then I watched, in a sort of fever, to see what Nurse Bacon would do next. If she had gone to the cupboard— say, for a paper, or a cake, or a piece of knitting, or any small thing; if she had gone to the cupboard and found it open, and locked it, and spoiled my plan, I can't say what I would have done. I really think I might have killed her. But anyway, she did not go. She only sat sleeping in her chair. She slept so long, I began to despair of her ever waking up again: I coughed; picked up my boot and dropped it; ground the legs of my bed against the floor— and still she slept on. Then some dream woke her. She got up, and put her nightgown on. I had my fingers across my face, and saw her do it, through the cracks: I saw her stand, rubbing her stomach through the cotton of her gown; and I saw her looking at all the ladies and then at me, seeming to turn some idea over in her mind . . .