For a Father's Pride (16 page)

William watched his brother as he struggled to draw breath. His head was battered and bruised, with hardly a clean place of skin on view, while his arm was in a sling, with
splints holding his broken bones in place.

‘Aye, Jim, who’s done this to you? I bet you’ve been messing with something, or someone, you shouldn’t.’ William sighed and banged his bowler on his knee. His
younger brother was always getting into scrapes, and it was always him who picked up the pieces. ‘Our father would play hell with you, if he could see you. Why can’t you keep out of
bother?’ William squirmed on the edge of the hard chair that he was sitting on, as he dropped his head in desperation.

‘He’d play hell with you, and all,’ came the faint reply from a conscious Jim, along with a faint smile, followed by a spluttering fit.

‘Nurse! Nurse, he’s coming round. Quick! My brother’s awake.’ William bent over Jim as he whispered more words.

‘You can’t get rid of me that easily.’ He smiled a weak smile and reached out for his brother’s hand.

‘Shush, our Jim! Just keep your strength.’ William watched as the nurse cleared the blood-spattered saliva that was blocking Jim’s airway, while he held his brother’s
hand tightly. ‘Who did this to you, our Jim?’

‘I fell.’ It was a weak answer, before Jim drifted back into a deep sleep.

‘I think you’d better leave now, Mr Mattinson. Your brother needs his sleep. Come back in the morning.’ The nurse smiled as she indicated the exit to William.

William stole a quick look at his sleeping brother. Jim was lucky he wasn’t a lifeless corpse lying out in the cold grey morgue of the police station. The morgue and station had only
recently opened, and the people of Leeds were grateful for the new force. The city had grown so quickly and needed a stabilizing police force to bring it to heel. He had heard rumours of gangs of
thieves and their honey-traps, set up to trick prey like his brother, hiding in the sprawling dark and dank city streets of Leeds. He shook his head, trying to quell dark thoughts about the
corruption, prostitution and gaming in many of Leeds’s back streets, especially on Water Street, where the prick-pinchers made their living and where Jim had been found.

William took a deep inhalation of breath as he made his way out of the hospital. The air outside was relatively clean, compared to the smell of ether and opium used by the hospital. He felt
guilty, thinking of the times he’d fallen out with his brother of late, and regretted the row they had the previous evening. There was a gnawing worry as he walked away from the hospital. Jim
did like a drink, but he’d never seen him drunk in his life; he always drank at the Three Bells – his local – with his cronies, while enjoying a game of cards. He hadn’t
tripped, so someone must have hammered him to within an inch of his life. Jim had obviously been womanizing, probably with someone else’s woman, and had been caught. Whatever he had been
doing
,
William found himself whispering, ‘Please, God, let him live’ under his breath.

Daisy looked around the shop. It was the first time she had been able to have a breather all day. Trade had been brisk, groceries had been bought, and she was especially
pleased that her baking and preserves had nearly sold out. The trouble was that she’d have to do it all again in the morning. She hoped William would be able to hold the fort at the shop on
his own tomorrow. The poor man had looked heartbroken at the news of his brother. But she couldn’t understand the reaction of Angelina – it was as if she didn’t care. She knew
there was no love lost between her and Jim, but she could have shown a bit more understanding for her husband.

The shop bell rang, bringing Daisy back from her thoughts.

‘Afternoon, ma’am. Can I help you?’ Daisy smiled at the well-dressed lady who had just entered the shop.

‘Yes, perhaps you can. My housekeeper purchased some of your goods this morning, one of which I’ve never sampled before. I believe it’s called “lemon cheese”?
I’d like to place a regular weekly order, for it to be delivered to my home.’

‘Of course, ma’am. How many jars would you like, and is there anything else I can help you with?’

‘I’ve written a list that my housekeeper tells me you can supply. I’d like to set up an account in my name, which is Lady Amelia Hall of Rothwell Manor, Leeds. I must admit,
from what I saw of the produce she bought, your standard is very high. My cook and housekeeper will be recommending you.’

‘Thank you, ma’am.’ Daisy was proud of her cooking skills and was glad the shop was going to benefit from them, but she was beginning to wish it was
her
name on the
label of the preserves. After all, it was her recipe. However, she knew it was the Mattinsons who were investing their money, and she was only a woman in a man’s world. But one day she hoped
things would be different.

Taking a glove off her lily-white hand, Lady Amelia picked up one of the china dishes. ‘This is beautiful china. Where has this come from, do you know?’ She studied the
potter’s mark on a dish, turning it gently in her hands.

‘I think Mrs Mattinson had it imported from Italy. I’m afraid, other than that, I don’t know.’

‘I’ll take it. Have your delivery boy bring it to me, along with the first week’s order.’

‘All of it? I’m afraid I don’t know its cost.’ Daisy’s face must have shown her amazement at this woman’s wealth.

‘It’s of little consequence. It’s too beautiful not to be in my home. I expect all the pieces to be supplied in perfect shape – no chips or breakages.’ She replaced
the glove on her elegant hand. ‘Tell your boy that I want him to deliver on Tuesday next week. And no ringing the front doorbell; all deliveries to the back door.’ She smiled.
‘Good day.’

Daisy sighed as she closed the door behind her. She’d never talked to a lady before. She didn’t know who the delivery boy was going to be, but she was sure William would sort
something out – that order was too good to miss out on. Daisy leaned on the shop counter. She was exhausted. It was now nearly four o’clock and there was no sign of William. She’d
give it another hour, and then she’d lock up. She slipped off her shoes and rubbed her aching feet, taking her eye off the counter for a minute until she heard the doorbell ringing. She
raised her head, to see a weary William entering the shop. He looked round at his new empire. The stock needed replenishing, the floor needed sweeping – and there was his assistant in her
stockinged feet.

‘Just look at it! One day without Jim and the place has gone to the dogs, and you are serving with nothing on your feet. I can’t do this without him – he’s always there.
He’s a pain-in-the-arse perhaps, but he is my little brother.’ William collapsed on top of the counter, his head in his hands.

‘I’m sorry, William . . . If there’s something more I can do?’ Daisy pushed her shoes back on her feet and walked over to the door, turning the Open sign over and bolting
the door. ‘Here, sit on the stool, and I’ll restock the shelves and sweep the floor, ready for the morning.’ She knew how William felt. She knew what it was like for your world to
fall apart. ‘How did you find him? How’s Jim?’

‘He regained consciousness while I was there, and then fell back into a deep sleep. He managed to tell me that he fell, which I don’t believe for a moment. I just can’t
understand why he was at Water Street at that time of night. He never drank down there. All right, he probably sowed a few oats with the whores when he was younger, but even then he knew always to
be careful.’

Daisy stacked the empty shelves. William covered his face with his hands and sobbed.

She put down the items she was stacking and gently put her arm around her employer. ‘He’s a strong young man. He’ll pull round, and he’ll be back bossing us all around
before we know it.’ She patted William gently and looked at the hurt in his eyes as he lifted his head.

He smiled through the tears. ‘You’re right, Daisy. He’ll be all right. Us Mattinsons don’t give in easily.’

‘He’s a character, our Mr Jim, but he wouldn’t want to see you like this. And besides, you should see the takings in the till and the orders for delivery. If we can manage
them, and it carries on like this, you’ll both be millionaires.’ Daisy tried to lighten William’s mood. ‘And we’ve sold all the china to a Lady Amelia, nonetheless,
along with a weekly order.’

‘You’ve done well, lass. Tomorrow we’ll put up an advert for an apprentice. Some young lad will want a job – he can do the donkey work and leave the rest to us. Talking
about donkeys, I’m guessing the horse hasn’t been fed. I’d better see to it, and then we’ll call it a day here?’ William pulled himself together as he counted the
day’s takings.

‘Oh my God, I’ve forgotten the poor creature.’ Daisy was horrified. She would never have forgotten the horse in the old days.

‘Never mind, Daisy. He’ll appreciate his food more, for going hungry. I’m sure it won’t be the first time. Our Jim is always forgetting the poor bloody thing. You sweep
the floor, and then we’ll go home. I want to tell Angelina that Jim’s talked to me and, hopefully, is going to be fine.’

Daisy looked at the scrawny, filthy young lad who stood in front of her. He clenched his crumpled-up cap in his hands and lowered his eyes to the ground, as Daisy viewed him
from top to bottom.

‘And Mr Mattinson said you’d to ask for me?’ She stood with her hands on her hips.

‘Yes, miss. He said I’d to make myself known to the woman behind the counter, and that you’d know what to do with me. And then he said to tell you he will be along shortly, and
that things are not as bad as they seem.’ The young lad looked up for a second, then thought better of it as Daisy just shook her head.

‘He did, did he? Well, we can’t have you working in here looking like that, can we? When was the last time you had a bath? I’ve seen tatties growing in less muck than is on
you.’

‘I had one at Christmas, miss. Me mam made all eight of us line up for the tin bath round at my grandma’s.’

‘Christmas! That was nearly ten months ago. And there’s eight of you? Where do you fit into the family? Are you the youngest?’

‘No, miss, I’m the oldest. Our Tim’s the youngest, he’s just started crawling. Me mam say’s he’s driving her mad – all he does is bawl all the
time.’

‘So, Freddie – it is Freddie, isn’t it? I think the first thing we’ll do is give your face and hands a wash. That’d be a good start. Then I can see what we have got
to work with. There’s a cold tap in the outhouse, with some carbolic soap next to it. Go and give yourself a good scrub – make sure you get behind those ears. And then I’ll see
what we can do.’

‘Yes, miss.’ Freddie’s face said it all. He was obviously averse to soap and water.

Daisy showed him where the outhouse was and left him to it. Eight children and he was the oldest – he only looked thirteen, or less. That was nearly one a year. What on earth was his
mother thinking of? Daisy thought that if it was her, she’d have told her husband to chop the offending article off; or she would be kicking him out of bed, to get his pleasure elsewhere.

Freddie came back into the shop and looked at the dragon who had told him to have a wash.

‘Well, let’s have a look at those hands.’

Freddie held out his hands for inspection.

‘Not bad. They’ll get cleaner, the more washes they have. Let’s have a look behind those ears.’ Daisy looked behind his ears and ran her hands through his shortcut hair.
‘Well, at least you’ve no nits. Sit down and I’ll give you something to eat and drink.’

His eyes lit up as Daisy poured him a glass of milk and cut him a slice of cake, which she gave to him. He immediately wolfed it down as if he’d never been fed before.

‘Where do you live, Freddie?’

‘On Armley Road, miss.’

‘In that terrace near the prison?’

‘Yes, miss. We can hear the prisoners yelling some nights.’

Daisy shook her head. That was one of the worst housing districts in Leeds. The conditions were squalid, and even in her short time in Leeds she’d heard of Armley Road. ‘Call me Mrs
Lambert. And here, have another piece of cake.’ Her heart was melting for this little vagabond, and the least she could do was make sure his belly was full before he went home. ‘I tell
you what, Freddie. Can you give our horse in the stable behind a good grooming and give him his feed for the evening?’

‘Oh aye, Mrs Lambert, I ken horses. I help my uncle, and he’s a rag-and-bone man. I go all over Leeds with him. I’ll look after the horse – what’s its name? I love
horses. My mother says I’ll make a good jockey, on account of being so scrawny.’ Freddie had come out of his shell at the mention of a horse.

Now Daisy knew that she was looking at their new delivery boy. Freddie knew Leeds, he knew horses and he had quite a bonny face when it was clean. Above all, his mother needed the few shillings
the lad would earn, to keep the family fed. There was some sense in William taking him on.

‘He’s called Ginger, on account on him being a reddish colour – when he’s clean, that is. He’s got a good temperament. Now, off you go. Get him fed and watered
before Mr Mattinson comes back, and I’ll give you threepence to take home with you.’

Daisy watched as the young lad picked up the currycomb and brush and stroked the horse’s withers to gain its confidence. He’d be all right, would young Freddie. She’d make sure
of that.

Jim had missed Daisy’s company for the last few days and was anxious to find out about his replacement.

‘I hear we’ve taken on a young lad, Daisy. Am I that dispensable that a young back-street urchin has taken my place?’ He winced as he reached for a piece of the toffee that
Daisy had lovingly made and brought to him. ‘These bloody ribs are killing me.’ He lay back on the bed with a flop, while the piece of toffee turned round in his mouth. ‘This is
bloody good – another seller for the shop, lass.’

‘Never mind my toffee. Yes, we’ve taken on Freddie, and a right grand lad he’s turning out to be. Old Ginger’s never been so well looked after. Anyway, this fall: was it
anything to do with a dog? I rather think it happened where that stray you’ve got your eye on hangs out?’