I thought of the look of blank pain on Queen Mary’s face when she heard Elizabeth’s lilting laugh at the king’s whisper in her ear.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘But I don’t care about being a good wife any longer. I don’t know what to think or what to care for.’

I suddenly noticed the pot with the smear of gruel along the side and I snatched it up and threw it at the back door. It hit the wood with a resounding clang and bounced to the floor. ‘And you can scour your own damned pot!’ I shouted at her shocked face. ‘And you can wait forever for a grandson from me.’

* * *

I stormed from the house and across the market place, not seeing the stalls and the usual traders. I made my way across the fish quay, not even hearing the cat calls of the fishermen at my rapid pace and my uncovered head. I came to the door of the physician’s house in a rush and then realised that I could not hammer on it and demand to see Daniel. I would have to wait. I hitched myself up on to a low stone wall of the opposite house and settled down to wait for him. When passers-by smiled or winked at me I glared at them, brazen, as if I were in my lad’s clothes again and had forgotten how to smooth down my skirts and cast down my eyes.

I did not consider what I would say to him, nor did I plan what I might do. I just waited like a dog waits for his master. I just waited in pain, as a dog will do with its paw caught in a trap and there is nothing to do but to wait; not understanding what the pain is, not knowing what can be done. Just enduring. Just waiting.

I heard the clock strike four and then half past before the side door opened and Daniel came out, calling a farewell and closing the door behind him. He had a flask of some green liquid in one hand, and when he came to the gate he started in the wrong direction, away from home. I was in a sudden terror that he was going to visit his lover, and that I, like some suspicious wife, would be caught spying on him. At once I crossed the road and ran up to him.

‘Daniel!’

‘Hannah!’ His pleasure in seeing me was unfeigned. But after one glance at my white face he said: ‘Is there something wrong? Are you ill?’

‘No,’ I said, my lip trembling. ‘I just wanted to see you.’

‘And now you do,’ he said easily. He drew my hand through his arm. ‘I have to take this to Widow Jerrin’s house, will you come with me?’

I nodded, and fell into step beside him. I could not keep up. The fullness of my petticoats under my gown prevented me from striding out as I had done when I was a pageboy. I lifted my skirts out to one side but they still hobbled me as if I was a mare, hog-tied in the horse-breaking ring. Daniel slowed down and we walked in silence. He stole a glance at me and guessed from my grim expression that all was not well, but he decided to deal first with the delivery of the medicine.