Olivia Twist ~ The True Story

By Susan Brown

Once again my thanks go to Kristina LS for knocking this into shape

Chapter 2

In which Olivia continues her journey and finds that thirst and hunger can cause problems ~ she finds a place to sleep ~ encounters a man with a wagon ~ travels to London ~ and meets with a strange boy.

~*~

Having decided to take the road to London, I wasted not a moment more and soon found myself walking the dusty road in anticipation of reaching my destination before morning.

I had not walked much further, when I heard the sound of hooves in the distance.

Perhaps they were after me! I shuddered to think what the Sowerberry’s and the Beadle would do to me if I were caught.

I quickly hid behind a bush by the side of the road as within seconds, the horse galloped by. I did not see clearly who it was on the horse, though he seemed to be a tall gentleman and not at all fat like the Beadle.

With my heart in my mouth I held my breath as the sound of the horse slowly faded into the distance.

I waited until my heart stopped fluttering and I could hear no more sounds other than the normal nocturnal ones of the countryside and soon found myself back on the road.

By this time I was beginning to feel very hungry and thirsty. My boots, were chaffing and I was feeling quite tired.

I walked for some time getting more and more weary, my feet dragging on the ground and I was half sleeping on my feet until in the moonlit gloom, I saw a barn in a field to the left of me.

Climbing slowly over a stile I wearily trudged across to the barn.
There was no door and I walked through, smelling the hay stacked there rather than seeing it clearly.

My eyes were now accustomed to the night and the moon, though not as bright as the sun, gave me enough light to see my surroundings.

Over in the corner was a trough, presumably there to feed animals. I went over to find it half full of water.

I sank to my knees and cupped some water in my hands and drank thirstily. Time after time I drank from the trough until my thirst was quenched.

Feeling much better now and I gave myself the time to look around I soon found a pile of apples in a corner, they seemed a bit ripe, but considering that I was used to gruel and other unmentionable foodstuffs, I thought it a king’s feast. I was soon tucking into an apple and then another and even a third!

My stomach was small and after that excellent repast I was full to bursting.

Eating and drinking had made me feel even more tired and I slowly made my way over to where the hay was stacked. Like a small furry animal, I burrowed my way into the soft warm hay and before I knew it, I was asleep.

I woke up to something tickling my nose. I brushed the hay away from me and opened my eyes to see a furry face staring at me; making me jump in alarm.

It was daylight now and I sighed in relief as I realised that it was a just a tabby cat.

‘Hello pussy,’ I said with a smile.

The cat just ignored me and started licking him or herself and then walked away without a care in the world.

A feeling of envy washed through me as I thought of that cat and wished my life were the same, no worries about the past, present or future.

I sighed and then yawned, feeling my jaw crack.

I was feeling lazy and my legs, unused to the hardship of travel were stiff and a little painful. I wanted to stay but knew that if I was to get to London I must make a move.

Getting up and stretching, I tried to unkink my abused body.

I brushed the hay and dust off of my dress, fearing that it was not as pristine as the time Mrs Sowerberry had first dressed me, was it yesterday? It seemed such a long time ago now.

My bonnet was still on my head, so I took it off and cleaned it as best I could.
Then went to the trough and drank some more.

Looking at my reflection in the clear water, I could see that my fine features and longish hair made me look quite feminine and I was pleased at that. Through all my recent trials and tribulations, I had never lost site of the fact that I was much happier dressed as I was, than I ever could be as a boy. Strange thoughts, I know for a fugitive such as myself, but I drew some comfort from this fact.

I washed my face in the water and whilst waiting for the now warm sun to dry it, I ran my fingers through my hair in an attempt to make myself more presentable.

In a few minutes, I felt dry enough to put on my bonnet, tying it securely with the ribbons under my chin.

Another drink of water and a few apples put in my dress pockets and I was ready for the road again.

I must have walked many miles that day. After every turn, I thought that London must surely be near. I had no inkling of distance; 70 miles could have been 700 for all I knew.

I was careful to listen out for other travellers on the road. Whenever I thought I heard something, I rushed out of the way, still convinced that ‘they’ must be after me.

It was getting darker in the sky now and my feet were aching more and more. As I came by a bridge with a brook or stream running below. I went down the side of the bridge and looked at the cool inviting water.

It took but a moment to remove my boots and stockings and I sighed in relief as my felt touched the cool water.

As I sat, I cupped some water, loving the feel of the cool nectar as it passed over my parched throat. I had one apple left, saved for a time such as this and I ate it in silence, listening to the birds in the trees and the rustle of the leaves in the gentle wind.

I loved this spot. It was quiet and peaceful; I was contented and felt no desire to continue my journey for the moment.

My feet were getting a bit cold now, so I took them out of the water and lay on the bank of the stream whilst I let nature dry them off.

I must have fallen asleep, as when I awoke, it was quite dark. Still weary from my travels (and) I had little desire to continue on my way in the dark. The moon was behind clouds on this night so I decided to stay where I was until morning.

I went under the bridge, there was an ill-used footpath there and I gathered some leaves to use as a bed. Luckily, being autumn, there were plenty of these about.

Soon, I was on my makeshift bed, I took my bonnet off and placed it safely behind me and then curled up with further dry leaves on top of me to keep the night chills away.

I must have still been very tired as I fell into a deep sleep.

The dawn chorus woke me (up) the next morning and I lay there for some moments listening to the birds calling each other.

Eventually, I got up and dusted myself off. Looking down at my dress, I thought that it was definitely looking worse for wear.

Sighing, I laced my bonnet on my head and was just about to get back up on the road, when I heard the sound of hooves and wheels. I shrank down behind the wall of the bridge as the horse came nearer.

‘Stop,’ said a mans’ voice. ‘Stop there Jess.’

The horse and covered wagon, for that was what it was, stopped on top of the bridge on the other side of the road. The man tied the reins off and jumped down. He then went down to the rivers edge going out of my view.

I don’t know why, but suddenly on an impulse, I threw caution to the wind and went to the back of the wagon. Pulling the tarpaulin aside, I could see that it was full of barrels. Without thinking on it further, I pulled myself up and climbed over the barrels to the back and slipped down between two. There was a dusty old blanket and I covered myself up.

As I crouched there, none too comfortable, I reflected on my rashness.

‘What if I were caught? Maybe they were not going to London. Should I get out before the man came back?’

All thoughts stopped as I heard the sound of hobnail boots coming towards me.

‘All right , Jess, here’s some water.’

I heard the scrape of a wooden bucket and the slurping sound of a horse in need of refreshment.

‘That good Jess? Well drink up old girl, I want to be in London by tomorrow.’ I sighed silently in thanks. London was indeed the destination of my unwitting driver.

Soon, the man got up onto the cart and we were off.

I try not to remember that journey too much. It was painful as I was uncomfortable and the floor of the wagon was very hard on my bony body. I could see little of the country except through gaps in the planking.

The man stopped several times for extended breaks and then when night approached, he pulled up into a side lane near an inn and took the horse off the reins, l could see through one of the larger cracks that he was leading the horse over to a field.

I could hear no more for some time and assumed that the man had gone to the inn for refreshment and perhaps some overnight lodgings.

I was in somewhat of a quandary. I did not know how far we might be from London. I was also very concerned about getting caught. Should I get out now and try to continue on foot or should I stay and hope that the man does not catch me? Once again I was hungry and thirsty and I suppose that the resultant light-headedness was not helping me to think straight. Being only ten years old, did not help, as how many ten year olds had been through what I had experienced and would know what to do?

I quietly climbed over the barrels and sneaked a look out of the back of the tarpaulin flaps that acted as doors on the back of the wagon. Looking left and right, I noticed that all was clear and climbed down.

I could see better here and noticed the horse in the field chewing at some grass.

Over to the left of me, I could see the inn. Lights from candles were coming from the inside and it looked a cheery and welcoming place.

Seeing as there was no one about, I sneaked up and looked in one of the windows. There were several people in there and through the pipe smoke, I could see the man who owned the wagon talking and laughing with the innkeeper.

I went around the back of the inn, staying where I could in the shadow and away from windows and I found myself at the rear of the building.

There was a well there and I quickly went over to it and turned the handle, wincing somewhat as it was a bit squeaky. The water filled bucket came to the top and I quickly drank my fill while I had a chance.

After my thirst had receded, I had a bit of luck. There were dustbins in the corner of the yard and on investigation; I could see the remains of several meals deposited in there. I ignored the fact that the food looked somewhat messy and so just delved in there to find what could be eaten.

I found several potatoes some carrots and a piece of pie. I ate them all ravenously, all the while looking around me for signs of people. I was lucky. It was quite dark now and I was full to the brim.

After pondering for a few moments, I washed my hands at the well and then went back to the wagon.

I had decided to take my luck and stay with the wagon until journeys end, at London.

I climbed back over the barrels to my hiding place and managed to move a few of them away from the side of the wagon, giving me a bit more room, enough for me to lie down anyway. I took off my bonnet and then lay down on the floor to await the morning, falling almost instantly into a dreamless sleep.

I was woken by the rocking of the wagon, having no idea as to the time or how long we had been travelling.

Looking through one of the cracks, I noticed there were some signs of habitation. Houses were dotted on the side of the road in a random fashion. Within an hour, the road we travelled was full of carts, horses, wagons and fancy carriages. There were many people around… and the noise! I had never heard such a commotion in my short life. Everywhere people were scurrying around. The building grew taller and there were churches and shops, inns and divers numbers of dwellings.

My eyes grew wide at the site of all this humanity. Then in the distance I could here the sound of people calling and shouting and church bells pealing. It was all a bit overpowering for a young boy of ten dressed as a girl.

Suddenly the wagon stopped and I hid myself beneath my blanket, fortunately remembering my bonnet and whipping it off the top of barrel where I had left it and bringing it under the blanket with me at the last moment.

I could hear the man removing the barrels and talking to someone at the same time.

‘Well Bob, good journey?’

‘Not bad Alf, not bad. I think that the horse needs re-shoeing though. More expense.’

‘True, things aren’t easy now days. Tell you what, do you want a drink before we empty your wagon.’

‘Good idea, if you’re payin.’

They both laughed as they moved away still talking. This was my opportunity. I climbed over the barrels and peeked out. There were lots of people about but the wagon was up against a wall away from everyone else.

Taking a deep breath, I put my bonnet firmly on my head and climbed out of the wagon. Looking left and right, I melted into the crowd.

I walked aimlessly; no one took much notice of me. There were children of all ages there and I think that I did not look out of place.

I passed many stalls selling all kinds of things. There were flower stall and ones that sold meat or poultry, fruit and vegetables and all manner of wares. There was a large one with candles and another selling books. Another stall sold locks and other hardware. There were many clothes stalls and I looked wishfully at some of the nice dresses and bonnets and then I noticed a boy. He was of a similar age to myself, perhaps a little older. He had a flat sort of hat on and a jaunty air about him. He passed a stall, full of fruit and casually picked up an apple, walking on he passed me by, eying me critically.

I thought nothing more of it and continued on my way. Looking at all this food had made me feel hungry. The various smells were making me faint with hunger. I could smell cooked and roasted meats and chestnuts and my mouth was watering at the thought of eating…

‘Hello.’

I jumped slightly as in front of me, as if by magic stood the young boy I saw earlier with the apple.

‘Erm hello.’

‘What’s yer name then?’

I panicked a bit as I thought of my name Oliv..ia

‘Oliv..ia, that’s a funny name. Got a stutter?’

‘No, sorry, you made me jump. My name is Olivia.’

‘Glad to makes your acquaintance, Miss Olivia. My name is John or Jack Hawkins but known to my hintimate friends as The Dodger’

He took off his hat and bowed.

‘Er, hello Mister Dawkins.’

‘So what is a fine girl like you doing all on your own, here?’

‘Just looking around.’

‘What about your Mama and Papa?’

‘I am an orphan.’

‘No relatives to speak of?’

‘No, none.’

‘And you thought to come to London to seek your fame and fortune?’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’

‘Having arrived at this auspicious place, you are not sure what to do?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘No cash?’

‘None.’

‘No prospects?’

I felt myself begin to get a little tearful.

‘No.’ I whispered.

He put his arm around my shoulders.

‘Don’t worry your pretty self. I know an old gentleman who just happens to take in lodgers. He is a nice gentleman and won’t press you for payment. Will you come along with me and we will see if he will help you?’

‘If you are sure.’

‘You will like the gentleman; he is very kind and considerate.’

‘Wwwhat is his name.’

‘I thought you said you didn’t stutter? His name is Mister Fagin. Now let’s cut along and see him shall we?’

With some misgivings, I was led out of that busy place to find out if the kind old gentleman would allow me to lodge with him.

To be continued…