The docks of Portsmouth were thronged with all manner of goods unloading from the rich trading vessels moored there. Spices from the Indies, tobacco and cotton from the plantations, even the rarest silk from the Chinas. The captains of the various ships shouted orders to the sweating crew pulling the huge bales form the dark holds, watched intently by a fat middle aged man and his sullen daughter.

A man in a long coat and top hat walked briskly along the wharf, and as he strode close to the lurking pair, the fat man pushed his daughter forward. She offered token resistance and then slid silently along the wharf and bumped innocently into the man. He offered his hand and apologies, and she took the apologies with a demure smile. He doffed his hat and walked away, leaving the girl to dodge baskets of goods on the way back to her the fat man.

‘Ahhh, that’s grand,’ he said, taking the pouch which was heavy with sovereigns and weighing it in his hand. The girl looked along the wharf and started to walk away. ‘Hold up! Just where do you think you’re needed, eh? We ain’t through yet, and you have work to do.’ She shot him a wounded glance, but bit her lip at any response as she knew it would do more harm than good. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulder as he tucked the bulging purse into his belt, shaking the teenager like a rag-doll. His face was red, sweat standing out on his forehead. He pulled her into the dark, fish smelling ally.

‘You’re mine, you got that? Mine, and you do what I says. Orphans in his town don’t get nothing for free, and you’re just the same. You’re mother was a dirty whore, you’re the only reason I stuck with her for as long as I did. I knew you’d be gold mine when you came of age. And now here we are, my belt heavy with coin, and you just starting to ripen, hmmm.’ His jowls sparkled in the weak light, and his tiny, watery, pig-eyes were lit with an indecent lust. The girl went limp, she knew what was coming. It was always the same, and her mind fled to her secret place. It was a lagoon, not like the brown sea that rocked the ships in the harbour. Blue, the colour of the sky on a summer day. And the sky was a deeper blue still. She was unsure whether she had ever seen a blue that eternal in her life, but her minds eye had definite ideas. The beach was white sand and not the grey shingle of the English coast. Strange birdcalls drifted through the air, carried on a warm breeze. She sat on the beach wiggling her toes in the warm sea, intently watching a crab scuttle along the beach and into a rock pool, the reflections of the sun dancing on the surface of the water. She looked up as a dark cloud obscured the sun, a chill wind whipping off the sea. She awoke, shivering on the floor of the ally. It was dark and raining as she pulled herself up slowly, aching from fresh bruises.

The dark streets of the town were empty but for a few sodden horses standing patiently outside soe of the many taverns. The girl hugged herself tight, small-stepping through the darkness to try and find a warm place to sleep. She wasn’t going to go home tonight. He wouldn’t mind, she knew he wouldn’t even know. Probably blind drunk and asleep in his own vomit, she thought. There was a flicker of hope that this time he might have drunk himself to death, but she shook it off as fancy. She knew a place, a stable next to The Jolly Fishwife, where she could sleep in the hay. The landlord was a decent man and when he realised she was out there he brought her some food from the kitchen. When he didn’t realise, she took it anyway. No man was so decent that you couldn’t steal from them. She was lulled to sleep by the snorting of a dappled grey horse in the next stall, and she slept a dark, dreamless sleep.