Cruel Carlotta. She so often hurt me. Sometimes I wondered why she meant so much to me.

Then the thought occurred to me that it Would be a lovely surprise for my mother to have her violets. Why should I not go out into the streets and buy them for her? I shouldn’t have to go back to the Piazza. There were many flower sellers in the streets—even more than there usually were because of the coronation, for they were taking advantage of the crowds to do more business.

I was not supposed to go out on my own. I seemed to hear Carlotta laughing at me. “It was only to the end of the street.”

I should be scolded, but my mother would be pleased that I had remembered.

I was sure that if I had not seen the woman and been reminded of Carlotta I should never have been so bold. I put on my velvet cloak, slipped my purse into the pocket of my gown and went out.

I reached the end of the street without seeing a flower seller, and as I turned the corner I was caught up in a howling mob. People were circulating about a man in a tall black hat and shouting abuse at him.

Someone pressed against me. I was wary and kept my hand on my purse.

A woman was standing near me. I said, “What is it? What has he done?”

“Selling quack pills,” she said. “Told us they’d make you young again, bring the colour back to your hair and cure all ailments, make you twenty again. He’s a quack.”

I stammered: “What will they do with him?”

“Duck him in the river, most like.”

I shuddered. I was made uneasy by the looks of the mob, for I suddenly realised that I myself was attracting some strange looks.

It had been rather foolish to come out alone. I must get away from the crowd, find my violets quickly and go home.

I tried to fight my way out. It wasn’t easy.

“Here, who you pushing of?” demanded a woman with greasy hair falling about her face.

I stammered: “I wasn’t pushing. I … I was just looking.”

“Just looking, is it, eh? The lady’s only looking at us common folk.”

I tried to move away unobtrusively, but she was not going to let me. She started to shout abuse at me.

I didn’t know which way to turn. Then suddenly a woman was standing beside me. She was poorly dressed but clean. She caught my arm and said: “Now let this lady alone, will you? She’s not sport for the likes of you.”

The other woman seemed so surprised at the interruption that she stared open-mouthed at the other, who took the opportunity to take my arm and draw me away. We were soon lost in the crowd.

I was grateful to her. I had simply not known what to do and how to escape from that woman who had seemed so determined to make trouble.

The crowd had thinned a little. I was not sure which end of the street I was at. I thought I would abandon the idea of getting the violets and go home as quickly as possible. I could see my mother had been right when she had not wanted me to go out alone.

The woman was smiling at me.

“You shouldn’t be out alone on the streets, dear,” she said. “Why, that’s a beautiful velvet cloak you’re wearing. Gives people ideas, see, dearie. Now let’s get you back home fast as we can. What made you come out alone? Who are you with?”

I told her I had come up from the country with my family for the coronation and I had slipped out to buy some violets for my mother.

“Vi’lets,” she cried. “Vi’lets. Now I know the woman what sells the best vi’lets in London and not a stone’s throw from this here spot where we standing. If you want vi’lets you leave it to Good Mrs. Brown. You was lucky you was, dearie, to come across me. I know that one who was after you. She’d have had your purse in no time if I hadn’t come along.”

“She was a terrible woman. I had done nothing to her.”

“Course you hadn’t. Now have you still got your purse?”

“Yes,” I told her. I had made sure to keep my hand on it after all the stories I had heard of the agility of the London thieves.

“Well, that’s a blessing. We’ll get them vi’lets and then, ducky, I think we should get you back home … before you’re missed, eh?”

“Oh, thank you. It is so kind of you.”

“Well, I likes to do a bit of good where I can. That’s why they call me Good Mrs. Brown. It don’t cost nothing, does it, and it helps the world go round.”

“Thank you. Do you know Eversleigh House?”

“Why, bless you, dearie, a’ course I do. There ain’t no place in these ’ere parts that Good Mrs. Brown don’t know about. Don’t you be afraid. I’ll whisk you back to Eversleigh House afore you can say Queen Anne—that I will—and with the best vi’lets you can find in London.”

“I shall be so grateful. They wouldn’t want me to be out, you see.”

“Oh, I do see, and right they are. When you think of what I just rescued you from. These thieves and vagabonds is all over this ’ere wicked city, dearie, and they’ve just got their blinkers trained on innocents like you.”

“I should have listened to my mother.”

“That’s what the girls all say when they gets into a bit of trouble, now don’t they? It never done no harm to listen to mother.”

While she had been talking we had moved away from the crowd. I had no idea where we were and I saw no sign of flower sellers. The street was narrow, the houses looked gaunt and dilapidated as we turned up an alley.

I said uneasily: “We seem to be coming a long way.”

“Nearly there dear. You trust Good Mrs. Brown.”

We had turned into an alley. Some children were squatting on the cobbles; from a window a woman looked out and called: “Nice work, Mrs. Brown.”

“May God bless you, dear,” replied Mrs. Brown. “This way, ducky.”

She had pushed me through a door. It slammed shut behind us. I cried out: “What does this mean?”

“Trust Good Mrs. Brown,” she said.

She had taken my arm in a firm grip and dragged me down a flight of stairs. I was in a room like a cellar. There were three girls there—one about my age, two older. One had a brown wool coat about her shoulders and was parading up and down before the other two. They were all laughing but they stopped and stared when we entered.

It was now brought home to me that the fears which had started to come to me when we first turned into the labyrinth of back streets were fully justified. I was in a more unhappy position now than I had been when accosted by the woman in the crowd.

“Now don’t be frightened, dearie,” said Mrs. Brown. “No harm will come to you if you’re good. It’s not my way to harm people.” She turned to the others. “Look at her. Ain’t she a little beauty. Come out to buy vi’lets for her mamma. Feel the cloth of this cape. Best velvet. That’ll fetch a pretty penny. And she kept her hand on her purse too, which was nice of her. She came near to losing it in the crowd.”

I said: “What does this mean? Why have you brought me here?”

“There,” said Mrs. Brown, “Don’t she talk pretty. You two girls want to listen and learn how to do it. I reckon it would be a help to you in your work.”

She laughed. It was amazing how quickly Good Mrs. Brown had become Evil Mrs. Brown.

“What do you want of me? Take my purse and let me go.”

“First of all,” said Mrs. Brown. “We want that nice cloak. Off with it.”

I did not move. I stood there clutching it to me.

“Now, now,” said Mrs. Brown. “We don’t want trouble. Trouble’s something I never could abide.” She took my hands in a firm grip and wrenched them from my cloak. In a few seconds it was off my shoulders. One of the girls grabbed it and wrapped it round herself.

“Now then, now then,” said Mrs. Brown. “Don’t you dirty it, now. You know how particular Davey is. He wants it just as it comes off the lady.”

“I see you brought me here to steal my cloak. Well, you have it. Now let me go.”

Mrs. Brown turned to the girls and they all laughed. “She’s pretty, though, ain’t she?” said Mrs. Brown. “Such a trusting little piece. She took quite a fancy to Good Mrs. Brown, I can tell you. Was ready to follow her wherever she led.”

I turned towards the door. Mrs. Brown’s hand was on my arm.

“That’s not all, ducky.”

“No,” I cried. “You want my purse as well.”

“You did keep it nice and safe for us. It would be a pity not to have it after that, wouldn’t it?”

They kept laughing in a shrill way which frightened me.

I took out my purse and threw it on the floor.

“Good. You see she’s not one for trouble either.”

“Well, you have my cloak and my purse. Now let me go.”

Mrs. Brown was feeling the stuff of my gown.

“The very best cloth,” she said, “only worn by the gentry. Come on, dearie. Off with it.”

“I cannot take off my dress.”

“Her servants has always done it for her,” mocked one of the girls.

“We’ll be her servants today,” said Mrs. Brown. “I always believe in treating my friends in the way they’re used to.”

It was becoming more and more of a nightmare. They were pulling my dress over my shoulders.

“What shall I do?” I cried. “You are taking all my clothes. I shall be … naked.”

“See, a nice modest little girl. Now listen, dearie, we wouldn’t let you go out into the streets starkers, would we, girls? Now that would cause a bit of a barney, wouldn’t it?”

They all laughed hideously.

I felt numb with terror. How I longed to call back time. How I wished I was sitting at my window and that I had had the good sense to do what I had been told was the wise thing to do—never go out alone.

I was sure this was some sort of nightmare. It couldn’t be true. Things like this did not happen.

They had stripped me down to my shift. How I hated their dirty fingers feeling the cloth of my clothes, gloating, as they took them from me, over the price they would fetch.

I stood there shivering with the awful realisation that if I wanted to escape I could not run out into the street with no clothes on.

Nevertheless I felt I could not endure to stay any longer in this terrible room with the piles of clothes lying on the floor. I saw that it was the profession of women like Mrs. Brown to lure unsuspecting people—children, it seemed mostly—into her den and there rob them of their clothes.

“Well, dearie,” said Mrs. Brown, “you was a nice little pick up. But listen here. I don’t want no trouble. You understand. Trouble and Mrs. Brown is two that don’t go together.”

“You’re a thief,” I said. “You will get caught one day and you’ll go to Tyburn for what you do.”

“Not such a babe as we thought, eh?” She winked at the girls, who chortled with amusement.

“We’re careful. We’re good. Least I am. I wan’t called Good Mrs. Brown for nothing. Give me that cloak, ducks,” she said to one of the girls. The girl handed her a cloak which was rugged and torn.

“There, wrap that round yourself,” she said.

I looked at it distastefully.

“Oh, it’s not what you’re used to, dearie. I know that. But it’s better than going naked. It’s more decent, see.”

I wrapped the cloak round me and for a moment my disgust was greater than my terror.

“Now listen, dearie. We’re going out of here. I’ll take you back on your road, see. I don’t want no trouble. I don’t want nothing traced to me. Good Mrs. Brown keeps out of trouble. All she wants is the nice clothes rich little ladies and gentlemen wear. It don’t mean much to them because they have others. But it means the difference between eating and starvation to Good Mrs. Brown. So I shall take you out with me. And if you was to shout I’d got your clothes nobody here would listen to you. Then I’ll leave you to find your home on your own. Yes, when it’s safe I’ll leave you. Understand?”

I nodded. My one desire was to get out of this place with as little trouble as possible.

She gripped my arm. We went up the stairs. The relief to feel the fresh air again was great.

All the time she was taking me through the narrow streets she was talking to me. No one took any notice of us. She had had my shoes too, so I was barefooted and I could not walk easily on the cobbles.

She laughed at me because I stumbled.

“They are such pretty shoes,” she murmured. Then she went on: “Listen to me, ducky. You’ve had a lucky escape. You lost your clothes. You could have lost more than that, dearie. Mrs. Brown has taught you a lesson. What a day for a rich little girl to go wandering out in her velvets and silks! Today, dearie, there’s more rogues and vagabonds in this ’ere city than at any time … and there are enough of us, Gawd knows, without this new lot. They comes in from all over the place, coronation days, royal weddings, you know … such like. They’re the times to make a picking. Well, you’ve been plucked, little pigeon, and thank your stars it was by Good Mrs. Brown. Now I don’t want no trouble. You haven’t been hurt, have you. I’ve even given you this ’ere cloak to cover yourself. They’ll ask questions. You’ll tell them it was Good Mrs. Brown … but you won’t know where I took you, will you? So you won’t be able to tell on me. You’ll get over this. My what a scolding you’ll get. Silly little pigeon. But they’ll be that glad to get you back; I reckon you’ll be petted more than ever. Thank Good Mrs. Brown. And you won’t want to bring trouble on her, will you? Remember the good she’s done you. Why, you might have been picked up by one of them old bawds and been sold to some loving old gentleman by now. See. You’ll be prepared next time. But I reckon there won’t be a next time. You’ve learned a lesson from Good Mrs. Brown.”