The Sweethearts Collection. Pam JenoffЧитать онлайн книгу.
‘I came to tell you I’ve just made breakfast, so let’s go and eat.’ Before she could reply, he was heading down the side passage and she had no choice other than to follow. Inside the workshop-cum-kitchen the aroma of toast mingling with the smell of oranges and lemons made her mouth water.
‘Got to keep up supplies,’ Garren said, gesturing to the sweets he’d just made. ‘I call them St Clements Drops,’ he added. ‘My speciality is stuffed dates. Popular with the genteel ladies but time-consuming as they need making up every day. Still, got to keep everyone happy. Now, help yourself to toast.’
‘Is your father not joining us?’ Colenso asked, taking a seat at the little table. He handed her a mug of tea then shook his head.
‘Said he had a late night and needed to rest his eyes. I heard him moving about his room, pulling out drawers and muttering to himself long after I’d retired. Goodness knows what he was doing.’
‘I think he might have been looking for the material he brought me. He suggested I make something to wear in the shop.’
‘Don’t tell me he visited your room?’ Garren groaned.
‘Well yes, he said he was worried he might have been a bit rude earlier.’
‘A bit,’ Garren exclaimed then shook his head. ‘I’ll have to have a word with my father about propriety.’
‘Please don’t, he was merely being kind. And he was right, I do need to look decent, although I shall have to wait until I can purchase cotton and scissors. I didn’t bring anything with me.’
‘No, I noticed you were travelling light,’ he grinned. ‘Leave it with me and I’ll see what I can do, although I’m not in a position to advance you any wages.’
‘Good, because I’m not in a position to accept charity,’ she retorted.
‘Father was right, you do have Mother’s bite,’ he grinned. ‘Now, if you’ve finished eating, I think it’s time we opened up,’ he added, getting to his feet. Scooping the sweets he’d made earlier into a jar, he led the way through to the shop.
Although Colenso knew she should be grateful for his generosity, she was fed up with taking things from other people. She couldn’t wait to receive her wages and start paying her way.
‘This is where we keep the cash,’ he said, taking out a little tin box from a drawer under the counter. ‘We start with a £2 float so that we can give change to anyone who requires some. All the prices are written on the labels, as you’ve probably already seen. Now to the scales.’ He picked up one of the little brass weights and set it down on one side, then using a serving scoop, dropped some of the orange and lemon sweets onto the other until they balanced. He then tipped them onto a square of paper, brought up the corners and twisted them together at the top.
‘On the Panam, we used to pop sweets into a cone so that they were all ready to hand over.’
‘I’m sure that was all right for a fair, but you’ll find the customers here like to see their sweets being weighed in front of them. Protocol, I think it’s called. Of course, barley-sugar twists and rock sticks you can sell individually.’
‘Of course,’ she replied, but he had turned away and was frowning at the wall behind the counter.
‘Good grief,’ he murmured, snatching down a black cloth. Immediately the room was flooded with light reflected from the windows. ‘We covered that mirror out of respect when Mother passed, and completely forgot about it. Now, if you’d like to turn the sign around to open, I’ll go and make more sweets.’
‘More?’ she gasped, staring at all the full jars.
‘Got to keep supplies up. Nothing worse than a sweetshop without sweets,’ he grinned. ‘I’ll leave you to it. Call me if you need any help.’
Colenso turned the sign then, with a final check that all the jars were neatly aligned, took herself back behind the counter. As she stepped in front of the mirror, she nearly did a double-take. The woman staring back scarcely resembled the one she remembered. Her eyes sparkled, her skin still bore the tan of a summer spent in the fresh air, while her hair curled softly beneath the green scarf, the golden hoops shining as they caught the light. Why, if it wasn’t for her torn hem and stains on her blouse, she’d look quite presentable, she thought happily.
The ringing of the little bell interrupted her musing and, spinning round, Colenso smiled as an elegant woman in her early twenties entered. She perused the jars before asking: ‘Do you have any of those delectable dates? Mother so adores them.’ The woman’s smile turned to a frown as Colenso tried to remember seeing any.
‘Ah, good morning, Miss Veryan,’ Garren said, appearing from the workshop. ‘I have just this moment finished making them.’
‘That is most opportune,’ she replied, a dazzling smile replacing her frown.
‘As if I would let my favourite customer down, Miss Veryan. Your mother is keeping well, I trust?’
‘If her grumbling is anything to go by, she is hale and hearty,’ the woman replied, with a roll of her eyes. While they exchanged pleasantries, Garren weighed out the dates and wrapped them.
‘Here you are, Miss Veryan. I have added an extra one for yourself,’ he told her.
‘How kind you are, Mr Goss,’ she said, handing him a coin. ‘Good day to you.’ Without a glance in Colenso’s direction, she glided from the shop.
‘Well,’ Colenso muttered.
‘She is a good customer so I often add a little treat. But not for everyone, you understand, or I would soon be out of business,’ he replied, completely missing her point.
The bell jangled and two grubby little boys came in, eyeing Garren hopefully.
‘Got any broken bits, mister?’
‘As a matter of fact, I have,’ he winked. Taking a little bag from behind the counter, he handed it to the older one.
‘Cor, thanks, mister,’ they chorused, almost running out of the shop in their haste to eat their treats.
‘But they didn’t pay,’ Colenso exclaimed.
‘They’re from the orphanage. I collect up the bits from the bottom of the jars each evening so it doesn’t really cost me anything. Now, I’ll leave it to you to make our fortune,’ he grinned and disappeared back to the workshop.
There was a lull during which Colenso carefully placed the dates into a clean jar and put it in the window. She had just returned to her place behind the counter when a harassed-looking woman entered, followed by three young children who immediately ran over to the sweet jars, gazing longingly at the contents.
‘Three barley-sugar sticks,’ the woman said, giving Colenso a weary smile.
‘Aw Mamm, can’t we have some of these?’ the little boy said, gazing longingly at the sugar-glass sweets.
‘No, we wants these,’ the girls chorused, pointing to the Nelson’s buttons.
‘Which is why you’re having a barley stick each,’ she replied. ‘If you’re good you can eat them in the park on the way back.’
‘Do you want them wrapped?’ Colenso asked, unscrewing the lid and counting out the three sticks.
‘No ta, be lucky if they last as far as the park.’ Eager hands grabbed the sweets, and the children immediately began to devour them. ‘See what I mean?’ the woman sighed, proffering her money.
‘Good morning,’ she called, as the little bell rang their departure. Her first sale, she thought, carefully placing the coins in the cash box. It wouldn’t make Garren a fortune, but it was a start.
For the rest of the morning, the little bell hardly stopped jangling and she was rushed off her feet, serving