Anne in a Dress

Instead of a Jack in the Box, an Anne in a Dress!
Just a bit of fiction I came up with around midnight of last night. It's very reminiscent of a few...erm...complications I discovered that come with wearing a farthingale. I hope you find this humorous.

“Anne Elizabeth Hawkyns!” Anne cringed at the sound of her father’s voice above her. She dropped her skirts and turned demurely on the stairs, looking at her father. Captain Sir John Hawkyns was leaning against the railing of the stair landing, a slightly bemused expression on his face.

“Aye, father?” Anne blinked innocently. Anyone else wouldn't have been able to tell that she had been climbing the stairs with her skirts hiked up nearly to her knees. Hawkyns’ was not to be fooled by his daughter’s charade. Anne was having a bit of a hard time adjusting to her new life as a privileged daughter of a knight. The cumbersome weight of her skirts made her feel both beautiful and restricted. Only a few days ago Anne had tried moving over a bench (something she would have easily jumped over in her lad’s clothing) and had to get help when her farthingale trapped her in place. Even the clothing she had worn growing up was much simpler than the finery Hawkyns had procured for her. The clothing was sometimes the least of Anne’s troubles.

“Ladies don’t bring their skirts up so high when ascending the stairs.” Hawkyns admonished with a grin. Anne knew that he was being lenient. “Where is Elizabeth?” She couldn’t go anywhere without an escort now, where as a lad she had been able to come and go as she pleased. Anne looked down the stairs and failed to see the other red haired girl that had been behind her only moments before. Elizabeth Cecil, the daughter of Lord Burghley, had befriended Anne within minutes of being introduced. Elizabeth, while studious and much better bred than Anne, had her own streak of mischief and fire in her.

“She was just behind me.” Anne replied loudly, hoping that her friend was within earshot.

“I’m here!” Elizabeth’s voice came through the door as she pushed the heavy oak. “They didn’t catch us! I had to see if one of my father’s spies was…” She looked up and spotted Hawkyns, and Anne’s warning facial expression. “Good day Captain.” Elizabeth smoothly floated up the stairs, hardly raising her skirt. Anne let out a long sigh. Why did Elizabeth have to be so good at all of these feminine things?

“I thought my daughter had lost you, Lady Elizabeth.” Hawkyns observed after reverencing. “What sort of mischief are you two young ladies getting in to?”  

“All sorts.” Elizabeth laughed. “But aren’t you a pair of my father’s eyes and ears as well?” Anne bit her lip to conceal her laughter. Even laughing was painful in these corsets and bodices. Of course Hawkyns was a spy, he’d been a double agent as well.

“I had thought you to be a positive influence on my daughter.” Hawkyns chuckled. Anne felt light headed and leaned against the rail of the stair, frowning. “Are you all right, Anne?”

“It’s this damn dress.” Anne muttered, earning a stern look from her father. “You never said anything about my language when I was the ship’s boy!” Anne pressed her side as the lightheadedness passed.

“I’ll take her to sit down for a while.” Elizabeth led Anne up the stairs towards Elizabeth’s rooms in Lord Burghley’s estate.

Almost out of earshot of Hawkyns, Anne turned to Elizabeth and with complete seriousness uttered, “I want my trousers back.” Hawkyn’s laughter at Anne’s words could be heard throughout the house. 

Fin

 

Anne's Log- The Reveal!

Anne tried desperately to crawl out of the grave she’d now dug for herself.

“But Captain!” She protested with more than an edge of desperation in her voice, “I didn’t mean too!”

Only moments before had Anne blundered into a game of Towers that Captain Frobisher was about to win. Now Captain Hawkyns and Captain Drake were splitting the money that Captain Frobisher didn’t have. Anne picked herself up from amid the blocks she had toppled over with and scooted away from her irate employer.

“I don’t care!” Captain Frobisher roared. Anne dashed in between the other captains, using them as a buffer. She wondered why she had let the Captain into the wine so early in the morning, even if it was a festival day. “Get back over here!”

Anne slowly trod towards her captain, ready to duck and cover or run as fast as her legs could carry her. Captain Frobisher had lifted men bigger than her clear over his head and tossed them off the ship. “It is a festival day, Captain.” Anne said hopefully, “Mayhap we can simply forget about this?” It was a stretch and Anne knew it.

“Certainly not.” Captain Frobisher insisted. “I’m revoking your land privileges and you’re going to get ten lashes.”

Anne steeled herself. She could take a whip so long as the captain didn’t find out she was a girl. “Administered by whom?” She couldn’t help the quaver in her voice.

Captain Frobisher looked at Anne like it was the most idiotic question in the world. “Me!”

Flailing around for words Anne sputtered out “But you can’t!”

“What do you mean I can’t! I’m the captain! You’ve got to learn to take punishment like a man, I’ve been much too lax on you.”

Anne looked to Hawkyns and Drake. Hawkyns seemed ready to jump into action, but as always he waited to see what Anne would do. Anne had told him in no uncertain terms that she could take care of herself.

“But Captain!”

“What?” Captain Frobisher was already starting to walk away from the towers. “Come on, I haven’t got all day.”

Anne tried to find an excuse, “It’ll ruin my shirt!” Was all that she could come up with?

“That doesn’t matter- you don’t need it anyway, Andrew!” Captain Frobisher stared at Anne with annoyance. “Just take it off now!”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?”  Captain Frobisher pulled at Anne’s arm. “You’re not going to get any blood on it. Act like a man, Andrew!”

“I’m a girl!” Anne blurted. Everything seemed to stand still for a moment.

Captain Frobisher blinked. “What?”

Anne looked to Drake, who looked astonished. Then she looked to Hawkyns, who looked a little surprised. Then she looked back her Captain, who looked skeptical. “I’m a girl, Captain.”

“You lied to me!”

“Not technically.” Anne wheedled. “I never said I wasn’t a girl.”

“I distinctly told you girls are bad luck on ships!” Captain Frobisher protested.

Anne nodded, “But you never asked if I was a girl.”

“Naturally I assumed you’d be a boy!”

“Martin.” Hawkyns interrupted. “Do you recall my cabin boy ‘Bob?’”

Captain Frobisher gaze Hawkyns the same annoyed look he had given Anne moments earlier. “Of course! Rather rubbish of you keeping a girl on board.”

“I had my reasons.”

“We all knew your reasons.” Anne couldn’t help herself. Hawkyns gave her a cautioning glance.

“Glass houses, Anne.”

“WAIT!” Frobisher burst between the two. “Anne-Drew.” He looked at Anne in shock. “That’s a boy’s name!”

Captain Hawkyns rolled his eyes and stepped in between the increasingly outraged Frobisher and the petrified Anne. “Oh, come now, Martin.”

“You’re not just getting a whipping!” Frobisher yelled. “I think a good old fashioned keelhauling is in order.”

Hawkyns put his hand protectively on Anne’s shoulder. “As Anne’s father, I take responsibility for her actions and forbid you to touch her.”

Anne and Frobisher looked at Hawkyns in disbelief. “Father?” In reality, thought Anne might have played her cards to gain a little from each Captain by teasing how they might be her father, she had no idea which of these famous captains her father was.

Hawkyns’ pulled a piece of paper out of his doublet and handed it to Anne. “That is my signature, isn’t it?”

Anne glanced at the paper,

I, Father Peter of the church of England, do provide witness to the baptismal and christening of this child, Anne Drew, born to John Hawkyns, Captain, and Fanny Drew, a most common woman, on the seventh day of September anno domino 1556. While this child is not of a legitimate union, both parties do recognize parentage and accept responsibility of this child and do claim the child to be their own.

Witnessed By

Father Peter

Fanny Drew               John Hawkyns

            “While your mother might have had copies of this particular letter.” Hawkyns raised an eyebrow at Anne, who almost blushed from embarrassment. “I do claim you as my child, since it seems that you finally have gotten yourself into a scrape you can’t get out of.”

“John!” Captain Frobisher sputtered, trying to make sense of everything that he had learned in the last three minutes. “This doesn’t make any sense!”

“What doesn’t make sense Captain?” Anne asked exasperatedly. Hawkyns gave her a look that told her to let him do the talking.

Frobisher looked at the ground in an attitude of deep thought. “Wait…” He said as he put two and two together, “You’ve been a girl this whole time.”

“Yes.”

“How many people knew?”

“Everyone but you Captain.” Anne grumbled. It hadn’t been her plan.

“Am I really that thick?”

“Come along Anne.” John Hawkyns held out his hand to his newly recognized daughter. “Let’s go get your things from the ship, you need to get some women’s clothes.”

“I don’t own any.” Anne winced at the thought of losing the freedom that trousers and a doublet had given her. “What about the Captain?”

“He’ll work it out eventually.”

Anne looked over her shoulder at the dumb-struck Captain Frobisher. To be honest she didn’t have much of an understanding of what just happened either. Still, something inside of her leapt with joy that she belonged to someone.

However, something inside her said that her adventures had only just begun. She’d need to keep her boy clothes around just in case.

The Shirt

Here is the last post to Anne's Clothes. To give everyone a fair warning, this post is a little bit longer than the others. While most of the others only took up half a page or less in my Microsoft Word document, this one was a little over one page. This post is also a bit more serious than the others. Instead of Anne's usual wit and sass (at least I hope I wrote her that way), this has a more bittersweet tone.

The Shirt

Anne scanned the horizon from the top of the crow’s nest. The wind whipped her shirt around her slight frame. The crow’s nest was the only place Anne felt any sense of real privacy. Growing up in London, privacy wasn’t as common as one might like and on a bark like the Gabriel, privacy didn’t even exist.

The crew of the Gabriel had grown used to Anne, or Andrew. They all treated her like a little brother, and Anne insisted on not being given any slack. A few times members of the crew had offered to help her out, but she was determined to do her share and prove her place. She needed somewhere to belong. 

Normally sitting up in the crow’s nest gave Anne a sense of freedom. Today the open space seemed to press in around her. She tugged at the ties on her shirt. The memory of Fanny’s words rose in her mind, when her mother told her that money was tighter than usual. Anne had known what Fanny’s next words would be, though she didn't want to hear them. 

“I didn’t want this for you.” Fanny said with tears in her eyes. “I had to go into this business to help my family. I never wanted this for you, I can’t see any other way to keep us going. I’m not as pretty as I was.” Anne had joked with her mother about men for years, but Anne had never expected to join her mother’s trade.

A quiet childhood longing started to form into a plan. “I could go find my father.” Anne said quietly, glancing at her mother. “I could dress as a boy and find him. I know which men to look for.”

Fanny knitted her brows. “Anne, anyone would be able to tell you’re a girl, even if you did wear boys clothes.”

“I’ve grown up watching men come and go.” Anne shrugged. “How hard can it be to act like one?” Anne had vowed years ago to not become like her mother, for all that she was a good woman, but Anne couldn’t bear to tell that to Fanny.

Keeping up with the men had been harder that Anne had originally thought. She didn’t realize until she was already signed on that she had no plans other than going to sea and voyaging with a captain who might be her father. She didn’t know what would happen if she got caught, who might bail her out of jail for cross dressing, where she would go after she was done at sea. It was unlikely that the Captains would provide anything for an illegitimate daughter. 

The signal for the change in the watch came. It was time to clamber down from her safe spot. Frobisher was just a speck on deck, but Anne could tell he was looking for something. She wondered what he had misplaced this time. Men…

 That night as she lay in bed Anne allowed rare tears to slip out. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and fingered the material of her shirt. It was the only thing she had brought from home of her old clothing. Some children clung to a poppet while they fell asleep. Anne fell asleep holding tight to a corner of her shirt and humming a song she’d heard some of the men singing earlier that day.

"Cold is the Arctic Sea,

Far are your arms from me.

Long will this winter be

Frozen in Frobisher Bay,

Frozen in Frobisher Bay."

 Fin.

There you have it. The story behind all of Anne's clothing. I actually debated whether to use Sailor's Prayer or Frobisher Bay as the ending lyrics, but the later seemed appropriate considering who Anne works for. 

Thank you to all of the character who I borrowed for my stories (and probably shall borrow again). To Everonword, thank you for doing quick edits on my stories so that they flow. Thank you, whoever you are, for reading my rubbish. I hope you've enjoyed these snippets.

Next week, if I am not too busy, I hope to write the event in which the crew finds out that Anne is a girl. Until then, I shall get packing for another wonderful weekend with the best people on earth!

The Red Ribbon, Earring, and Shell Necklace.

The Red Ribbon, Earring, and Shell Necklace.

“What have you got there Andrew?” John piped up from across the galley. Anne tried to stash the earing she’d been gazing at, but Captain Frobisher’s hand caught her wrist before she could hide the bauble.

“Ah-ha!” Captain Frobisher laughed, “I knew you had a girl somewhere, Andrew!”

Anne’s brain raced, “It’s nothing sir.” She tried to twist her arm away but Captain Frobisher plucked the earing out of her hand and held it up to the lamplight.

“This is quite the pretty piece. Who’d it belong to?” While the rest of the crew knew of Anne’s disguise, the captain was still blind and Anne preferred to keep it that way.  Whether through brotherly friendship or bullying she had gotten the crew on her side, but she hardly knew how Frobisher would react to finding out that his ship’s boy and protégé was a lass. 

“A girl back home. We’re promised to each other.” Anne supplied quickly, hoping that it would shut the captain up. The Captain handed the earing back to her. “I don’t think she’ll wait around long, might even be married by the time we get back, she is a few years older than me.” Anne heard a few of the men snicker and she gave them a vicious glare, which only made them chuckle more.

“An older woman?” The Captain roared with laughter.  “You’ll learn Andrew,” Captain Frobisher swung an arm around Anne’s shoulders, “women are as changeable as the tides and plentiful as the fish in the sea. We’ll just find you another one, won’t we men?” The crew gave a resounding assortment of cheers and laughter.

“Sir, I’m only sixteen! I went to sea to get away from women!” Anne protested, only making her situation worse. “I appreciate the offer captain, but-“

Frobisher waved Anne’s pleas away with a punch to her shoulder, “No buts Andrew! When we dock in Bristol the first order of business is to find you a buxom lass to have some fun with.”

“As you wish Captain.” Anne rolled her eyes and ducked out from the galley and scurried away to her hammock. It seemed funny to her how she’d grown up around men all her life, and yet she had barely known anything about men until she had signed on with a crew of them. Once there she pulled out the earing again and looked over the small metal hoop with the glass bead embedded inside. It had been one of her mother’s things, a mismatched earing that Anne had played with since she’d been young. It had been a bracelet until Anne’s wrist had grown too large for the opening. It was the only thing she carried of her mother.

Anne’s hand found the shell that hung from a string around her neck and she gave the good luck charm a small squeeze. Once again she’d just barely escaped another awkward situation with the Captain and crew. Captain Frobisher was mostly bluff and blunder anyway.

“You all right lass?” John’s head peeked over the edge of Anne’s hammock and she nodded. “Whose earring is it?”

“Mine. Same as the ribbon.” Anne stashed the earing and rolled out of her hammock. “Does the captain need me?”

“We’ve got watch now, c’mon.” John patted Anne on the shoulder and the two of them headed up to scan the horizon. 

Look for the last installment of "Anne's Clothes" tomorrow- The Shirt. Hope you have enjoyed reading these little stories, if you've missed any just look for the tag "Anne's Clothes" to find the rest of them! 

The Knife and The Belay Pin, the Pouch, and the Journal and Pencil

Today's first post reviews how Anne got a hold of that knife you see her wearing. Look for the post later tonight (I think around 9pm) about various little trinkets that Anne carries. These two posts are pretty short so I thought that they'd make a good single post length.

The Knife

            “You’ve got a knife, lad?” The boatswain, John, asked. Anne’s hand went to her belt and nodded, feeling the wooden handle in her palm. “Let’s see you use it then." Anne drew her blade and sawed away at the rope John had told her to cut.  “Where’d you get it?”

“Someone threw it into a wall.” Anne summarized as she drew her arm back and forth. It wasn’t a lie, the knife had been thrown, probably by a drunk thug, and had stuck in the wall of the inn she stayed at the night before. When no one came running after it, Anne pulled it out of the framework and made it her own. “Will it do?”

“It’ll do quite well, I think.” John caught the two pieces of rope and Anne stashed the knife back in her belt. The boatswain noted the ribbon that the cabin lad secured his new weapon with. “Got a girl back home, then?”

“What?” Anne looked at the boatswain with alarmed eyes and looked back at her knife. “Oh…erm…aye.” She lied, hoping that no one would question her too much about the few baubles she carried.

The Belay Pin, the Pouch, and the Journal and Pencil

Captain Frobisher’s papers were a mess. How the man had managed to keep the ship running with everything out of order, Anne couldn't fathom. She spent a good hour just putting everything in order and another two hours deciphering the captain’s haphazard scrawl and spelling. Everything needed to be re-logged into the leather bound journal she had found at the bottom of the writing desk. Captain Frobisher, while an accomplished sailor to say the least, was absolute rubbish when it came to keeping track in documentation.

A severe hand cramp caused Anne to put a pause in her copy work. She folded the page she had stopped writing at. Carefully she slid the journal and pencil into the pouch Stretch the sail maker had helped her to sew out of some old clothes. It wasn't as if Anne didn't already know how to sew, but if she was going to try and act like a boy she wanted to at least seem ignorant of sewing. 

The sound of the boatswain’s whistle “all hands on deck” resounded round the ship and sent Anne running out of the captain’s room. Before Anne knew it the crew where all rushing at her and she leap up among the rigging, not stopping her climb until she reached the crow's nest. She didn't come down until the men promised not to haze her any more and went back about their work.

No one noticed that during the next week they were short one belaying pin, or if anyone did notice the appearance of the new item on “Andrew’s” belt, none of the sailors said anything. Even if she did have a knife, Anne felt it was better to be safe than sorry.

Come back around 9pm!

The Boots

The Boots

             Captain Hawkyns pulled a pair of boots out of a trunk and held them out to Anne. “Try these on…lad.” He shook the boots a little when Anne hesitated and she slowly took the shoes from the captain. “Now tell me,” Captain Hawkyns eyed Anne with a curious gaze, “Where do you come from Anne Drew?”

“London.” Anne answered, pulling the leather over her feet. “Nearby Fleet Street.” She looked up to gage the Captain’s reaction. While Hawkyns didn’t give too much pause, his eyes flickered and Anne took a chance, “My mother’s name is Frances Drew, most people know her as Fanny.”

“Dear God.” Anne heard Captain Hawkyns mutter under his breath before he managed a quick recovery, “How old are you lass?”

“Sixteen. Seventeen in September.” Anne could see Hawkyns counting in his mind, she held her breath and waited. Hawkyns looked at Anne with a mix of awe, confusion, and suspicion. Anne had to admit there was not much of a resemblance between the two of them, maybe the eyes or the structure of their noses. “How’d you know I was a girl?”

“You’d have to be blind not to see it, lass.” Hawkyns shook his head, “However, you’d do well to sign onto Frobisher’s crew, I could even help you to keep him blind, not that he isn't already.”

“Why would you do that?” Anne blurted.

Hawkyns gave Anne a smile. “I take care of my men, Anne Drew. Especially the ones who are like unto family to me. How do those boots fit?”

Anne grinned ruefully, she might be able to get something out of being a captain’s daughter after all. At least she’d get a lot more help out of Hawkyns. Maybe letting “Bob” tell Hawkyns about her secret wasn’t such a bad thing after all.  

Tomorrow brings the stories of Anne's knife and jewelry.  Hope anyone who reads these little stories is enjoying them!

The Hat

Tonight's installment features the lovely Robertina, also known as Bob (yes like Blackadder)! I'm so glad I have a real Bob to interact with on the weekends. Every time I see her it makes my day a little happier because of all the havoc we bring to the captains, and the mirth we give to the patrons. 

Enjoy!

 

The Hat

Robertina handed Anne a hat. “Don’t ask where I got it, all right?” Anne inspected the oddly shaped cap. It almost looked like a question mark and flopped oddly when Anne shoved it onto her head.

“Will it be missed?” Anne adjusted the fabric and pulled the tasseled end over her shoulder. It was almost endearing in a completely mad sort of way.

“Only by the dead.” Robertina gave Anne a smile that said that more than the dead would be missing this hat. It wasn’t exactly the sort of thing you saw everyday.

“Robertina-“

“Bob in public, please.” Robertina shooed Anne up the stairs of the inn and into a room. “Can’t have the mates thinking I’m a girl, now can we?”

“How long have you kept it up?” Anne plopped into a chair, her feet were killing her in their new boots.

Robertina smirked. “From the crew or captain?” She laughed at Anne’s flabbergasted expression. “None but Hawkyns knows my true identity. He’s a good captain.” Anne noted the shine in Robertina’s eyes and wondered what exactly was so fascinating about sailors that made women constantly fall in love with them. Robertina couldn't have been more than a few years older than Anne.

“He might be my father.” Anne blurted. Robertina’s eyebrows raised most the way up her forehead.

“Do tell.” She crossed her legs and propped her head in her hands. “I want to hear everything.”   

The story of the Boots will be up sometime around 9pm methinks, mayhap a bit earlier.

The Doublet

The Doublet

Nicholas held out the grey and white doublet to Anne. “Take it.” He insisted. Anne glared at him. Everything cost something. Especially when it came from actors, even if it was Nicholas.

“I can’t pay for it, and I’ve got this one.” She tugged at the plain brown jerkin she wore. Nicholas glared back and shoved the fabric into her hands.

“You’ll need something nice one day.” He insisted. “Besides, I’m supposed to burn it. Scenery crushed the last fellow who wore it. It’s bad luck now.”

“Actors.” Anne muttered under her breath and shoved the clothing into her pack. She glanced up at Nicholas and looked away quickly, thanking God she wasn’t given to blushing. “If I’m in London again...well…I better be off.”

“You could bunk in the theater.” Nicholas rushed. “It’d be safer than the streets, even for a lad.” Anne considered his proposition. It would make leaving harder, but it was a lot safer.

“I’ll be gone before sunup.” She whisked past Nicholas in a way that belied her true gender.

She slept amid piles of costumes and was gone before sunrise. The only thing Nicholas found to give proof that Anne had been there was the brown jerkin she left behind. 

Tomorrow will bring the story of Anne's Hat and Boots. If you haven't read the others go look at my posts on Anne's Slops, then the post about Anne's Belt, Mug, and Pouch.  They'll all be tagged under Anne's Clothes if you want to find them!

The Belt, Mug, and Pouch

 An apology about the last story. 

As I wrote these I had not learned a few slightly important historical facts that would have influenced Anne's life. Therefore, if there are any odd changes throughout these stories, it's because this character is a work in progress than these stories are simply because I wanted to put them somewhere. 

Reading over them, it's not my best work, but I am dedicated to posting them and will try to do last minute edits to make these stories slightly more cohesive and comprehensible.

The Belt, Mug, and Small Pouch

The sound of voices below made Anne hurry in donning her disguise. The boy's clothing felt odd next to her skin, she could breathe much more easily than in a bodice and the slops were half the weight of one skirt. Even odder was the feeling of her shorter hair. Anne couldn't remember a time when her hair was so short that it only brushed her shoulders. It was tucked up under a muffin cap that was pulled down low on her forehead.

Anne was thankful for the small pressure her belt created. The small leather pouch hanging from her belt held all money she was going to bring. Anne wished she had a better pouch, but this would have to do. There was less than a minute before her mother's new visitor climbed the stairs. It wouldn't do to find a "boy" in her mother's room.

 To spend one night on the street and then go down to the docks as soon as daylight broke was Anne's plan. Her hand found her mug and reassured herself of its heft and weight. It would make a suitable weapon until she could find another one.

“Frobisher, Hawkyns, Drake, Wynter.” Anne muttered to herself. The sailors would know of those men even if she had no idea who they were. One of them had to be her father.

Look later tonight for the story of how Anne got her doublet!

The Slops

So I write ONE POST about how to break your captain out of jail, and Anne starts knocking about in my head and won't shut up until I write something about her. The conversation went something like this.
Anne: "Write about me!"
Me: "Why? I have 20 (not kidding) other characters that need to be written about this week."
Anne: "But I want you to write about ME, not just about how I *almost* got Captain Frobisher out of jail!"
Me: "Wait. Your. Turn."
Anne: "Not a chance, and I won't shut up until you write about me."
Other Characters: "We're going on strike anyway."
Me: "What? How can you go on strike- I don't even pay you!"
Other Characters: "Oh yeah....well, we're going to be unreasonable and uncooperative this week. We thought we'd give you a heads up."
Me: "Gee thanks."
Anne: "Now will you write about me?"
Me: "Some people's children! Yeesh, whatever, I'll write about you if it will make you pipe down."
Anne: "Yay! Plus you owe me for turning my shirt pink."
Me: "We made it white again!"
Anne: "Moot. Point."
Me: "I'm writing about you, PIPE DOWN OR I'LL TELL THE CAPTAIN." 

So Anne got to tell the stories behind most of what she wears. I'll be posting a story or two every day and we'll see what happens. If it's rubbish you can blame Anne. She rushed me.

The Slops

Anne looked into her mother’s room as the first rays of sunlight came in through the window. Two figures lay in the bed, sleeping soundly. The landlord would be up soon, wanting the rent for the month. That would wake them up if nothing else did.

Anne was used to creeping around silently. It was the only way she didn’t get tangled up in her mother’s affairs. Without making the door or floorboards squeak, she danced across the floor and searched the john’s pockets. Holding up the john’s clothing, Anne wondered just how slight he was. She could almost fit into his slops.

No money, but his clothing reeked of the smell of the sea. Anne shook her head. Her mother was always soft for sailors.

 “He can’t pay.” Anne thought to herself. “Looks like he’ll be leaving without his trousers.” She flung the slops over her shoulder and took the rent money from the false bottom of a chair. They’d be able to stay for another month at least, and the idea of the john sneaking out without his trousers made her snicker.