‘Yes,’ he said. He let her help him off with his greatcoat and gave it to Frances to take to the kitchen to warm it through, and to order some hot ale. ‘I would not trust the roads these days.’

She shook her head. ‘Lambeth is quiet enough now that the archbishop’s palace is empty,’ she said. ‘All the apprentice lads are exhausted with their drilling and their mustering and digging the fortifications. They have no stomach left for roaming around the streets and making trouble for their betters.’

She led the way into the family sitting room. Johnnie was seated before a small fire, writing out plant labels with painstaking care. ‘Uncle Norman!’ he exclaimed and leaped up from his place. Alexander Norman greeted him with a brisk hug and then dived once again into his pocket.

‘I have given your sister half a mile of silk ribbon, should you like the same to edge your suit?’ he asked.

‘No, sir, that is, not if you have anything else … that is, I should be very grateful for anything you bring me …’

Alexander laughed. ‘I have a wicked little toy here which one of the armourers made at the Tower. But you must promise me to only behead dead roses.’

From his pocket he drew a small knife which folded cunningly, like a barber’s razor, so the sharp blade was hidden and safe. ‘Do you permit, Mrs Tradescant?’ Alexander asked. ‘If he promises he will take care of his fingers?’

Hester smiled. ‘I should like to have the courage to say no,’ she said. ‘You may have it, Johnnie, but Cousin Norman must show you how to handle it and see that you are safe with it before he leaves us today.’

‘Can I carve things with it?’

Alexander nodded. ‘We’ll set to work as soon as I have drunk my ale and told your mother the news from town.’

‘Wooden whistles? And toys?’

‘We’ll start with something easier. Go and ask them in the kitchen for a cake of soap. We’ll work our way up to wood.’ The boy nodded, put the cork carefully back in his pot of ink and carried the tray of labels out of the way, and then went from the room. Frances came in and set down a cup of ale before her uncle and then took up some sewing and sat in the windowseat. Hester, glancing across the room, thought that her stepdaughter could have been sitting for a portrait entitled ‘Beauty and the Domestic Arts’ as she bent her brown head over her work. A swift glance from Frances’s bright eyes warned her that the girl was perfectly aware of the enchanting picture she made.

‘Any news?’ Hester asked.

Alexander Norman nodded. ‘You’ve heard the news of Birmingham?’

Hester glanced towards Frances. ‘We won’t speak of it now. I heard enough.’