‘Very well.’
The girls were gathered – Grace and Faith carrying the infant Benjamin. All came to kiss their father goodbye, to have him admire their Sunday best, the ribbons in their hair. The front door cut off their pretty chirping and in a few moments, his son was at the door. ‘What errand, father?’ he asked. Pitman could see Josiah was not unhappy about missing chapel.
He studied his son. The boy was twelve now, and tall with it. There was a stillness to him, quite unlike either parent. A haunted look, not uncommon in London that year. Pitman knew the boy had seen too much, things he wished he had not. A slaughtered body on a road in Finchley. Too many other bodies on the plague-ridden streets, including a sister and baby brother carried away on a death cart. Josiah had had the plagu
