A Mother's Promise (33 page)

Hetty wrenched herself free of his grasp. ‘It’s not like that. She’s going to put up the money. She’s not going to run the coffee shops.’

‘Shops!’ George rolled his eyes in disgust. ‘You’ve only just opened up one, girl. You’ve got to learn to walk afore you can run.’

She clamped her hands over her ears. There might be a grain of truth in what George was saying, but there was no need for him to shout at her. She had wanted his help and advice, not a lecture. ‘Shut up! Shut up!’

‘Is that all you can say? What about me? What about Huggins and Cooper? We were supposed to be partners, Hetty. You can’t just go ahead without consulting me.’

She was too angry now to be reasonable. ‘Can’t I? Well, let me tell you something, George Cooper. I don’t need you. If you don’t like what I’m doing then you can sling your hook, mister.’

George’s expression hardened. ‘If that’s the way you want it, then I’ll leave you to it.’

‘Good!’ Hetty cried passionately. ‘Go away and leave me alone. That’s what you men always do.’

Without saying another word, George slammed out of the kitchen. Hetty sank down onto the chair. The silence was deafening. She was alone.

Hetty climbed the stairs leading up to the attic room and she crawled into her bed beneath the roof window, huddling up under the coverlet in an effort to get warm. She tried to comfort herself by rereading the letters she had received from Charles. She had been vaguely aware that they did not arrive as frequently these days, but she had been so preoccupied with work that she had pushed the niggling worry to the back of her mind. His letters used to arrive promptly once a week, sometimes more often, but now two weeks could pass without hearing from him, and when she looked at the date on the last missive she realised that it had been written in the middle of November. As she read and reread it in the flickering light of a single candle, she smiled at the amusing references to his place of work and his clever, but sometimes cruel, caricatures of his colleagues in the bank. She skimmed through the rest of the closely written pages with a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. How could she have missed the undeniable fact that there
were fewer terms of endearment now than there used to be? And there was no mention at all as to when he might send for her, or if he was planning to return to London.

Hetty wrapped her shawl a little tighter around her shoulders. She shivered as she peered into the shadows where Granny’s old furniture loomed out of the darkness, seeming to move as the candle flame flickered in the draughty room. The whole area was alive with the sound of tiny feet scampering under the floorboards and beneath the eaves. She was used to bats zooming through gaps in the roof tiles, but tonight they had taken on sinister and threatening shapes, and Hetty was suddenly afraid. She could still hear George’s angry voice railing at her, and the cold, hard look in his eyes was indelibly printed in her memory. In the distance, she could hear the peal of church bells calling people to midnight mass, and she realised that it was the beginning of Christmas Day. She felt beneath her nightgown for the gold ring that she wore around her neck at all times like a talisman against evil and a pledge of Charles’s undying affection. Tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘M-merry Christmas, H-Hetty,’ she whispered as she blew out the candle and lay down to sleep, still clutching his signet ring.

What should have been the best Christmas
morning of her life was overshadowed by her bitter parting with George. She made excuses for his absence, although they sounded feeble even to her own ears. He was missed, of course, but no one seemed to doubt Hetty’s word that he had gone to visit a sick relative in Shadwell. They all seemed to think it was just like George to put others first, and this made Hetty feel even worse. She had been tempted to walk to his lodgings in Cottage Green and offer him an apology, but it was not only pride that had prevented her: she was still angry with him for his unreasonable behaviour. If he had given her half a chance she would have reassured him that their partnership still stood, no matter what Miss Heathcote might offer in the way of terms and conditions. She had meant to ask him to accompany her to the mansion in Berkeley Square on Boxing Day, and she had intended to tell Miss Heathcote that there was no deal unless it included her friend and colleague. But George had ruined it all, and now she was not even sure if she wanted him to be her partner. He had acted like a spoilt child last night, and to make matters worse, Charles had not even bothered to send her a Christmas card or a token of his love and respect. Perhaps Miss Heathcote was right when she said that all men were unreliable and untrustworthy.

Hetty hid her heartache beneath a bright smile and did her best to enter into the Christmas spirit; after all, it was the children’s day when all was said and done, and she must not spoil it for them. The boys were bubbling over with excitement and delight on finding their stockings filled with small gifts. Natalia did not seem entirely sure what was going on, but she loved the rag doll that Hetty had found in the market and refused to be parted from it, even when tempted by her breakfast bread and milk. Nora had hung the tree with sugar candy canes and boiled sweets wrapped in coloured paper. There was an exciting-looking pile of presents wrapped in brown paper and tied with string lying beneath its pine-scented branches.

Tom arrived in the middle of the morning and from the deep pockets of his overcoat he produced two bottles of claret as his contribution to their feast. The kitchen was redolent with the aroma of goose roasting in the oven, apple sauce, cinnamon, cloves and the zest of orange and lemon peel as Tom mulled the wine with a hot poker. There was bustle and not a little confusion as they set chairs and stools around the table and the boys squabbled about where they would sit. Nora lifted the goose from the oven and began to carve while Granny served the potatoes and Jane was left stirring the gravy. Having sorted out the boys’
seating, Hetty took the saucepan of cabbage into the scullery where she drained the water into the stone sink. The room was filling with steam when the back door opened and a gust of cold air preceded George, who came in holding a huge bunch of mistletoe. Closing the door with his foot, he took the saucepan from Hetty’s hand and put it down on the wooden draining board. Holding the mistletoe over her head, he drew her to him and kissed her soundly on the lips. ‘Merry Christmas, Hetty.’

It was all the apology she needed and she sighed with relief. ‘Merry Christmas to you too, George.’

Sammy burst into the scullery and threw his arms around George’s waist. ‘I knew you’d come. Is your grandpa better?’

‘I told them about your sick relative,’ Hetty said hastily. ‘He must have made a miraculous recovery.’

George met her eyes and he grinned. ‘Us Coopers are hard to put down, Hetty. We come bouncing back, no matter what.’

She caressed his cheek with the tips of her fingers. ‘I’m glad, George. I wouldn’t want to lose a good friend like you.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Sammy demanded, grabbing George by the hand. ‘Come on, George, dinner’s on the table and I’m starving.’

‘I’m not sure I’m invited,’ George said, holding Hetty’s gaze with a question in his eyes.

‘Don’t talk soft. You know you’re always welcome.’ Picking up the saucepan she hurried into the kitchen. ‘Look who’s come, everyone. George managed to get here in time for Christmas dinner. Isn’t that splendid?’

It was a noisy meal and the pitch of their voices rose as a result of generous libations of mulled wine. Sammy and Eddie ate so much that Hetty was afraid they would make themselves sick, but they were having a good time, and after everything they had suffered in the past it was wonderful to see them having fun. The long days spent making matchboxes seemed to have been in another lifetime, and seeing everyone so relaxed, happy and well fed only hardened Hetty’s resolve to make a secure future for her family.

Jane’s Christmas pudding was a triumph and when the last scrap had been eaten and the dishes cleared away, Granny announced that it was time to open their presents. They were only small gifts but each one was opened and shown round with exclamations of delight. Afterwards, while Granny and Nora dozed by the fire, Sammy and Eddie sat on the floor with Tom showing them how to line up their lead soldiers in battle formation. Jane had
taken Natalia upstairs for her afternoon nap, and George sat at the table smoking the cigar that was Hetty’s Christmas present to him. She smiled as she went to sit beside him. ‘I like the smell of cigars.’

He took another puff and blew a cloud of smoke up to the ceiling. ‘It’s a fine cigar, Hetty.’

‘I’m glad you came, George.’

‘Maybe I was a bit hasty yesterday.’

‘You were a bit.’

He lowered his voice. ‘Have you told them yet?’

Hetty glanced anxiously round the room, but no one was listening, and she shook her head. ‘No. I wanted it to be settled before I said anything.’

‘Very wise. It certainly needs thinking through.’

‘I’m going to see her tomorrow, George. Will you come with me?’

‘I most certainly will. I want to see the old dragon face to face and hear what she has to say for herself.’

‘Miss Heathcote will see you now, miss.’ Hicks motioned Hetty to follow him.

Hetty stood up, brushing the creases out of her Sunday best skirt. ‘What about Mr Cooper? I ain’t, I mean, I’m not leaving him sitting here like a beetle on a birthday cake.’

‘Thanks, Hetty,’ George said, chuckling. ‘I’ve been called a lot of things but never a beetle.’

She ignored this remark, keeping her gaze fixed on Hicks’s stern face. ‘Well, Mr Hicks, what did she say?’

‘I’m sorry, but Miss Heathcote made it clear that she is not at home to your friend.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ Hetty said, picking up her skirts and making for the staircase. ‘Wait there, George. I won’t be long.’ She did not wait for his reply and she ran lightly up the stairs with Hicks following her at a more sedate pace. She glanced over her shoulder as she reached the first landing. ‘It’s all right, Mr Hicks. I know the way.’

‘Maybe, miss. But I have my duty to perform.’ He quickened his pace and he managed to get to the door just ahead of her. ‘Miss Huggins to see you, ma’am.’

‘What a palaver,’ Hetty said as she hurried past him. ‘I can open doors on me own, Mr Hicks. I ain’t a cripple.’ Realising what she had said, she clapped her hands over her mouth in dismay, but fortunately Miss Heathcote was seated at the far end of the vast room and she did not seem to have heard.

‘Stop dithering in the doorway, Hetty. Come here where I can see you.’

Hetty advanced slowly, choosing her words carefully. ‘Miss Heathcote, ma’am. I have
brought my friend and business partner, Mr George Cooper, with me. If you don’t mind, I would like him to be present.’

Miss Heathcote raised an eyebrow. ‘This is not a board meeting, Hetty. It was supposed to be an informal chat.’

‘Nevertheless, I want George to be included. He’s helped me right from the beginning when I started with a handcart and a tin can to keep the taters hot. I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for George.’

‘I always knew you had spirit, Hetty. It remains to be seen if you have enough back-bone and determination to succeed.’ Miss Heathcote leaned forward and pointed to a silver-backed mirror and hairbrush on a side table. ‘Pass me my brush and mirror.’

Hetty did as she was asked. ‘Does that mean you’ll meet George?’

‘No.’

‘No? You mean you won’t even give him a chance to speak for hisself?’

‘Himself, Hetty, not hisself.’ Miss Heathcote stared at her reflection in the mirror and then hurled it at the wall. ‘I hate what I see. I would give my soul to have a face and body like yours, but I am trapped in this hideous, twisted shell.’

‘No, don’t say that.’ Hetty leapt to her feet and went to retrieve the mirror, but the glass
was shattered and the silver backing dented beyond repair. ‘Look what you done. This must be worth a small fortune.’

‘The cost is immaterial.’ Miss Heathcote made an impatient gesture with her hand. ‘Sit down for goodness’ sake; you make me feel tired just watching you.’

Hetty stood before her with her hands clasped tightly behind her back. ‘Why won’t you see George? What has he ever done to you?’

‘Nothing. I don’t know him and I don’t wish to. He’s a man – that says it all.’

‘But Miss Heathcote, they ain’t all bad. Some of them can be rotters, and who knows that better than me, but George is kind and decent and we’re in this together.’

‘Then beware, little Hetty Huggins.’ Miss Heathcote’s eyes glittered as she leaned towards Hetty, wagging her finger. ‘That’s when they are at their most dangerous. I’m telling you that you cannot trust men. I speak from experience.’

‘You do?’ Her curiosity aroused, Hetty forgot to be angry and she sank down on the stool by Miss Heathcote’s side. ‘What happened?’

‘The details aren’t important. Let’s just say that once, many years ago, a young man showed an interest in me. He brought me flowers and small gifts and he made me feel
as though I was a whole person and desirable. He wanted to marry me, but my father said he was merely after my fortune. I wouldn’t believe him, but Papa said he would disinherit me if I accepted my suitor’s offer of marriage.’

‘And you refused the gentleman?’

‘I never saw him again. He sent a note expressing his deepest regrets, but he had been offered a position abroad and he would be gone for a year or maybe two. It was not fair, he said, to expect me to wait for him.’ Miss Heathcote uttered a hollow laugh. ‘He was an adventurer, just as Papa had said. I tell you, Hetty, all men are the same. They either want to rule you or to own you.’

Hetty shook her head. ‘George isn’t like that.’

‘Do you want me to help you with your business or not? It’s a simple question.’

‘I think I do, but George . . .’

Miss Heathcote held up her hand. ‘Is not my problem. My business dealings will be with you and no one else.’

‘What exactly do you want of me, Miss Heathcote?’