That Bonesetter Woman by Frances Quinn

Author:Frances Quinn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster UK
Published: 2022-07-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 41

After Christmas the weather turned even colder. The papers reported that not only was the Thames frozen over, but ships were stuck in ice two miles off the Essex coast, and the slippery streets meant Durie was busier than ever.

One morning, as she left the house for an appointment in Clerkenwell, someone called her name. She looked across the road and there was Malachy O’Neill, the Philimores’ Irish footman, in his green and gold livery, waving. She’d bumped into Mr Philimore the previous week and he’d mentioned a niggling pain in his back; the footman must have a message for her. As he strolled across, she couldn’t help noticing the easy way he moved, despite the frost on the ground. No back pain there, no crunchy knees when he got older either.

‘Does Mr Philimore want me to call?’ she said.

‘No, I was just passing, on an errand, and saw you. How are you? The bonesetting must be going well, I keep seeing your name in the papers.’

‘It’s going very well, thank you.’

Durie thought she’d got better at making inconsequential conversation over the past months – a lot of the women customers liked to chatter inanely and she’d learned to nod and smile and say ‘Yes indeed’ now and then – but the surprise of him remembering her at all, let alone the conversation they’d had, made her blurt out what was in her head.

‘You walk very well. You must have a strong back.’

He grinned and said, ‘Thank you. That’s not a compliment I’ve heard before.’

‘I just meant… a lot of people here sit too much. That’s why they get bad backs. But you look like you walk a lot.’

Shut up, Durie, you’re making it worse.

‘Where are you heading?’ he asked.

‘Clerkenwell.’

‘I’m going east too, will I walk along with you a way?’

He didn’t wait for an answer, so there was nothing to do but carry on along the street, beside him. His long legs matched hers stride for stride, and he chatted away easily, telling her about the boy Gregory’s latest escapade, an attempt to climb up inside the drawing room chimney. He had a very entertaining way with him, capturing Mrs Philimore’s flapping about when Gregory emerged, covered in soot, so well that by the time they reached Holborn, Durie had forgotten her embarrassment and was laughing along with him.

‘Well, here’s where we part,’ he said. ‘But I was wondering, it’s my day off on Sunday, and there’s a frost fair setting up on the river. Would you fancy coming to have a look at it?’

‘With you?’

‘Well, yes. They say it’s quite a sight. So will you come? Or is it an altogether terrible idea?’

‘Yes,’ said Durie.

‘It’s a terrible idea?’

‘No. I mean, yes. Yes, I would like to.’

He waved as he walked away. Could he have been joking, having a laugh at her expense? But why bother, when there was no one else to hear? And he didn’t seem the type, he seemed nice.

Well, we’ll see. We’ll see on Sunday.

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