The answer came back with surprising speed.Yes.Yes, she did want the truth. Whatever it was, it was better to know it. Perhaps it would show her the way through the difficulties that besieged her marriage.
She planted her hand down firmly, the coin resting in her palm. “I am ready.”
The coin disappeared inside the multitude of shawls. Madame Zahara bent over Jillian’s hand, scrutinizing it. She nodded as she did so, as if agreeing with a voice only she could hear. “You have choices. That is good. Here are the signs.” She closed her eyes, as if reading something written in her mind. “The new will feel old. The old will feel new. Now heed my warning: love will grow cold until you embrace new beginnings.”
Madame Zahara sat back abruptly. “That is all.” She waved a hand toward the open flap that served as a doorway. “Go now. I wish to eat my lunch.” Without further ado, she reached under the table and drew out a basket from which she claimed a sandwich. As if her customers were no longer there, she sank herteeth into the bread. “Go on,” she said, munching as she spoke, “Off with ’ee.”
Slightly stunned, Jillian rose and made to leave. Pen slipped her arm through Jilly’s and led her from the dark interior of the tent. “Come on. Let’s find some ices. We can forget about that old woman. She makes her money scaring gullible people. We will not be her fools.”
“I’m not so sure, Pen,” said Jillian. “Thereissome truth to what she said.”
“Oh, poppycock. She was especially vague. You could apply what she said to anyone. That is her tactic. Don’t be misled by her clever act.”
“I don’t know. Things between me and Lewis have been strained for some time. Our life together was a new beginning, and I have not embraced it.”
“Anyone who has been placed in an unfamiliar environment will struggle,” answered Penelope. “As for love growing cold, anyone can see how much you and my brother adore each other. You’ve both had adjustments to make. Give it time. You’ll figure it out together.”
Jilly wanted to agree. She nodded as if she did. But the old woman’s words kept milling about in her thoughts. What was the new that felt old? Was it the excitement of their love that was waning? What old thing would feel new? The Bradford way of life?
No, Penelope was right. The prediction was purposefully vague to make her believe whatever thoughts fitted the open-ended words.
As she stood, deep in thought, another body bumped into hers. This time, it spun away before being tackled by a man in a white apron. The body was small and bedraggled and belonged to a dirty urchin who cradled an apple to his chest while the stall owner lifted him to his feet by the scruff.
“Got you, you little thief! It’s off to the Old Bailey with you. I’ve had enough of you lot pilfering my goods.”
The boy squirmed and wriggled in an attempt to get free, which only earned him a cuff about the ears.
“What’s he done?” Jillian asked, although the answer was as clear as daylight.
“He stole an apple from my stall, the little beggar,” answered the man.
“An apple? He stole one apple? And for that, you would have him up before the judge? Where is your mercy, sir? Can you not see he is hungry?”
“Let his parents feed him, then!” said the man.
“Ain’t got no parents,” the boy told him, though it was doubtful this would make a difference to his accuser.
“Should be in the workhouse, earning your bread,” was the harsh reply.
“Excuse me,” Jillian interrupted. “How much for the apple?”
“They’re four for a penny.”
“Is that all?” Jilly dug her hand into her pocket. “Here. That will cover the cost of the apple and a few more besides. He probably knows at least three other hungry children.”
The man looked at the penny and shook his head. “Don’t bother. He’ll only be back to his thieving again tomorrow.”
“No doubt you are correct, if no one will help him. One apple is hardly going to keep him from starving.”
“They’ll feed him in prison,” was the man’s indifferent answer. He renewed his grip on the boy’s arm.
Jillian knelt on her haunches before the boy. “Do you have nowhere to go where you can be cared for?”
“I ran away. Got tired of being beaten,” said the boy blandly, his eyes revealing a soul that was already old and cynical.
Jillian cast her gaze helplessly at Penelope. “What can we do for him?”
Penelope touched her shoulder gently. “Come, Jilly, we have no authority in this matter. If this man will not retract his accusation, the law demands the boy be taken into custody.”
