Maggie pulled a face then converted it into a smile. ‘Geology’s a bit of a turn off for our readership …’
I held my hand up. ‘Hang on. Let me get to the point – it was perfect for farming, for cattle, for livestock. It’s surrounded by rivers and the North Sea for fishing. Until the 1600s it was seen as a pretty cool place to be. But after that it changes a bit.’
Maggie’s eyes blinked. ‘Because?’
I cleared my throat. ‘Well, this is where I come in. I think a) because it was quite the revolutionary county in the Civil War. Backed parliament. Wanted reform. Was seen as the “radical” county. And b) because of the extent of the witch hunts.’
‘Which were because?’ She cocked her head to one side and sat back in her chair.
‘Lots of things, I think. One was class aggression – you look at the European witch hunts and they had it in for all different types of people: aristocrats got burnt at the stake and their lands neatly confiscated by the Church. But in the Essex witch hunts the victims are mostly poor. At the same time you’ve got a mini Ice Age, crop failures, Civil War, a general breakdown of law and order. Indictments in Essex were already higher than elsewhere in the country. Then suddenly in 1644 the numbers spike dramatically. It was down to Matthew Hopkins, whose dick must have fallen off or something.’
Maggie raised an eyebrow. ‘Language, darling.’
‘Well, he’s got serious issues with women. Killed more than any of the other Witchfinders put together. Decided to call himself the Witchfinder General and got rid of whole families of,’ I lifted my fingers to draw imaginary quotation marks, ‘“witches” in his brief career from 1644 to 1647. Some sources suggest that he was from Lancashire, others from Essex or Suffolk. That he worked in shipping as a clerk and spent some time in Amsterdam learning his official trade, where he witnessed several witch trials.’
I looked up to catch her expression. ‘And?’ she said, eyebrows furrowed, not giving anything away.
‘So he comes back and starts on Essex Girls in Manningtree. That’s where he was based. There and Mistley. The Thorn Inn is where he had his headquarters.’ I jerked my chair closer to the desk. ‘Killed a good hundred more people than Harold Shipman, who I might add, we can draw comparisons with – he also enjoyed murdering older women living on their own. But, like I said, it’s thought that Hopkins killed more. Possibly making him the number one serial killer of all time. Conservative estimates look to about 350-odd victims. And,’ I drew breath for emphasis, ‘he was only twenty-six or twenty-seven when he snuffed it. That was in 1647. In 1692 you get the Salem witch hunts – and guess where they were?’
Maggie drummed her fingers on the desk. ‘I’d put my money on Salem.’
‘Okay. I didn’t phrase that well. What county do you reckon Salem is in?’
‘It’s in Massachusetts, no?’
‘Yes, that’s the state though. Salem is in Essex County.’
‘That, I didn’t know,’ said Maggie thoughtfully. ‘You have my full attention. What are you thinking?’
‘Not sure yet. I have to do some digging. I’ve got a tingling feeling going on. I think I could come up with something strong. Perhaps, and this is just a perhaps at the moment, it could be part of a bigger series – The Essex Girls’ History of the World.’
Maggie’s eyes brightened – pound signs were presumably whizzing through her brain. ‘Now you’re talking. What are you saying – six, twelve articles?’
‘I don’t know yet. Let me see what I can come up with.’
‘I like it. I really like it. Sounds like you’re talking ahead of the next deadline. Can you come up with this in three weeks?’
I’d already thought about that and shook my head. ‘I’ll definitely need longer.’
Her eyes dipped and hardened. ‘You’ve got a current deadline. This is like an ongoing column. Readers will be expecting a piece in the next issue. Be a dear and sort something out for that please.’
I already had something up my sleeve. ‘What about little-known Essex Girls of import … ?’
Maggie picked up my line. ‘That go against the stereotype …’
I gave her a stony stare. ‘All Essex Girls go against the stereotype …’
She ignored my comment. ‘Yes, okay, you can have that. But I don’t want you trotting out the regulars: Helen Mirren; Sally Gunnell … yada yada. There was a piece like that in the Standard just the other week.’
‘I’ve got enough research to concoct a decent article pretty quickly. There’s Anne Knight who campaigned against slavery and for women’s suffrage …’
Maggie sniffed. ‘Not too political though please, Sadie. We need an arts or culture steer.’
‘Come on – she’s a notable woman. A lesser-known
notable …’
‘Oh dear. I’m going off the idea. Who else have you got?’
‘Okay,’ I said, reaching mentally for someone a little more exciting. ‘Maggie Smith?’
‘Mmm.’
‘Oh and also Mary Boleyn – the “other Boleyn Girl”. You could run a nice pic of Scarlett beside it.’
‘Was Mary from Essex?’
‘Lived in Rochford for about ten years.’
‘Born here?’
‘Not exactly …’
‘She’ll do. Stick in a couple more like that and think pictures.’
She wrote something down in the book on her desk. ‘Good, good,’ she said to herself and bit the end of her pen with gusto.
‘Then I can go into Hopkins?’
‘Darling,’ she said, replacing the pen and fixing me with one of her scary smiles. ‘After that you can do whatever you like – as long as you hit your deadline and make it contentious. We need debate. Especially on the website. The bigger the better.’
‘Great. Thank you.’ I said it in earnest. ‘I’m going to get something good out of it – got an instinct with this, believe me.’
Now she leant forwards. ‘Very topical Essex is right now.’
‘That, I know, dear Yoda.’
She grinned. ‘Do you think you could explore your contacts and get some coverage in the nationals? If you come up with anything biggish?’
‘I can’t promise anything but it’s always a possibility. I’m pretty sure there’s an angle I could work out that could pull in the wider population. Hopkins has more than a regional fascination.’
Maggie’s eyes were fixed on my face. ‘Excellent. I want more than an “And Finally” on Look East. God knows we need to boost circulation.’ She leant forwards and picked up her mug.
I mirrored her. The coffee was hot and delicious so I gulped it greedily, feeling the heat in my throat, then processing her last comment, I said, ‘I thought you were doing great.’
Maggie sighed. ‘We are, in terms of readership and profile. Best it’s ever been. But our landlord’s putting the rent up; the price of paper is going through the roof right now, and what with the recession or whatever this dire slump we’re passing through is called, a lot of our regular advertisers have had to pull. A fair few have gone bust still owing us. Marketing is always the first thing to go when times are hard.’
I stared up and caught a sagging around her eyes. ‘I had no idea.’
Maggie