For a Father's Pride (17 page)

‘Don’t know what you’re on about.’ Jim looked at Daisy through swollen, bruised eyes, hardly able to make out her features.

‘Well, the dog came by the shop the other day – name of Susie. She was asking after you and wanted me to pass on her “bestest wishes”, I think she said. I told her that
you were mending, but probably wouldn’t be making it down to Water Street for a while.’ Daisy smiled.

‘She did, did she? Tell her, if you see her again, that I’m fine. And tell her to watch out for herself. That Ebenezer is a bastard. He’d see her dead in The Cut, just like me,
if she wasn’t making him money.’

‘I thought it was a fall?’ Daisy grinned. ‘And Angelina sends her love. William is right under the cosh, now you are out of action. Me too, come to that.’

‘Just you watch Angelina. She’s a spiteful cow, too. Jealousy is her best friend, and her father . . . Well, he just thinks he can buy everything – bloody Itai.’ Jim
winced again as he moved.

‘I’m going to leave you in peace now. You look worn out, but at least you’re back in the land of the living – and back to calling everyone names. I agree with you about
Angelina. I don’t know how we’ll fare in the coming weeks, but we’ll see.’ Daisy rose from her hospital chair and looked down at the sorry state of Jim Mattinson.

‘Give us a kiss, Daisy petal. I might be dead tomorrow. Give me something to remember you by.’ Jim reached out his hand, only to wince again.

She bent down and kissed him on the brow, on the only unbruised piece of skin there was.

‘I meant on the lips. How can I survive with just that?’

‘You’ll live. They don’t call me “Shipley Susie”.’ Daisy grinned at him. She was thankful Jim was recovering, because life at the terrace was dull when he was
not around. And he was right: Angelina had no love for anyone but herself and her family.

The autumn wind blew as Daisy made her way to open up the shop. The leaves fell down onto the grey pavements; their year was done, but they would appear anew in the spring,
carrying on the circle of life.

‘Oi, Daisy, wait a minute!’

She turned quickly. Susie was rushing towards her from behind.

‘I know you won’t want to talk to me, lass, and I shouldn’t be here, but I just wanted to know how Jimbo is doing? I know I shouldn’t, but I love that man. There
aren’t many gentlemen left in the world, and he is one, when he wants to be. Plus he’s better than the bloody foreigners his brother married into.’

‘He’s fine, Susie. Go and see him: he’s on ward ten at St Mary’s, and it would make his day.’

‘Nah, they’ll not let me in. They know who I am, and what I do. Just you tell him to look after himself.’ She wrapped her shawl around her as the wind blew stronger.

‘He said the same about you. Told me to tell you to keep away from Ebenezer. Jim said he was a bad lot.’ Daisy smiled at Susie.

‘I know, but a girl has to make a living. You’re not getting me in the workhouse – I’d sooner starve on the streets.’ Susie’s mood dropped, before she bounced
back. ‘Give him my love, and I pray to the Lord to keep him safe. And you too, darling. It’s a hard world, without a doubt.’

‘I will, Susie. Keep calling by and I’ll pass your messages on. He’ll be glad to hear from you.’

‘I will, darling, I will. But think of your reputation – you don’t want to be seen with me.’ And, with that, Susie picked up her skirts and almost ran back down the
cobbled street.

Daisy felt sorry for Susie. She had a heart of gold and she obviously loved Jim. But at the same time there was a little pang of jealousy in Daisy’s heart. Susie wasn’t the only one
who had feelings for the lovable rogue; and hers were growing by the day.

That night Daisy tossed and turned in her bed, thinking about Angelina and the hateful words she had been saying about her brother-in-law. At one time she had actually heard
her say to William that perhaps it would have been better if Jim had died. To her, the business was everything. And if anyone got in the way of the Petronellis’ fortune, they weren’t
worth bothering with.

Next week Jim would be home in his own rooms above the shop. However, Angelina could only see the time that was to be wasted looking after him, until his strength returned. Her words were sharp
and hurtful. How true what Susie had said when Daisy arrived in Leeds: you had to keep your wits about you, else you could be dead. She’d have to watch herself with Angelina; she was
obviously one to keep sweet, or you’d risk your life.

‘I’ve been thinking.’ Angelina watched as Daisy bottled the latest batch of lemon cheese. ‘If you gave me the recipe for lemon cheese, I could make it
and place it in jam jars for you. Then you don’t have to work such long hours. You look tired, Daisy. My husband shouldn’t ask so much of you.’ She smiled a sickly smile that
Daisy had come to realize Angelina hid behind, when she was plotting something.

‘I don’t mind being busy. It stops me from thinking. I’m my own worst enemy when I think. It’s like my father used to say: “The Devil makes work for idle
hands.”’ The words spilled out of Daisy’s mouth without her thinking.

‘Your father? You’ve never talked of your family before. Are they still alive?’

‘I don’t know, we lost touch some time ago.’ Daisy didn’t look up, but concentrated on tying the gingham fabric lid onto the jar – the one people had come to
expect.

‘That’s sad. Family is so important; it comes before everything else, and there is honour to be had with a good family. Will you give me the recipe? It is the least I can do.
Besides, baby Charles is such a good baby, I need something to keep me occupied. I’ll mention it to William – I’m sure he will agree. After all, he was just saying what a good
salesperson you are, and that young Freddie has taken a great liking to you. It would be better if you worked behind the counter, once you have baked the cakes that are needed.’ Angelina
smiled and walked gracefully out of the kitchen, leaving Daisy secretly fuming.

It was her recipe, not Angelina’s. She fumbled with the string’s knot as she tied and sealed the last jar of lemon cheese. She glared at the label on the jar that said
‘Mattinson’s Lemon Cheese. Made in Leeds’. Too bloody right Angelina could have the recipe. Why should she herself flog her guts out, just for the jar to carry the word
‘Mattinson’s’ on it? Besides, Angelina would soon tire, when she’d stood over the brass jam pan for an afternoon or two, nearly burning her arms and making red blotches
appear with the heat. Anyway, with Christmas just around the corner, Daisy had another recipe idea that would sell just as well as lemon cheese. She’d like to see Angelina make Christmas
mincemeat – that would be far too complicated for a woman like her.

‘So we are all in agreement. Angelina will make the lemon cheese and the marmalade, while you, Daisy, will bake the fresh cakes that we need first thing in the morning,
then come and help me in the shop and keep an eye on our Jim, just until young Freddie has finished his delivery round. I think this will work out well. It gives you a little spare time, Daisy, and
gives Angelina her kitchen back during daylight hours. And it gives me time to train young Freddie, so that he can eventually learn a trade. Plus, our Jim has someone to hand, just until he gets
back on his feet.’

William Mattinson was laying down his law. He had had enough of warring women in his house, and this was the way forward.

Angelina smiled. ‘This is fair, my dear husband, and I am grateful that Daisy has been gracious enough to give me both recipes. I will not let either of you down, especially when our sales
have been so high. Who would have thought that a small fortune could be made from a simple country recipe.’

If looks could have killed, Angelina deserved to be dead, as Daisy gave her a long, hard stare. The cheeky bitch:
a simple country recipe
. If it was that simple, why hadn’t she
thought of it?

‘And the Christmas mincemeat?’ Daisy turned and looked at William.

‘Make me a dozen jars and we’ll see how it goes. It’s a bit too early to take on another product just yet. Let folk get used to what we’ve got, and then we’ll push
it more. Plus, our Jim will always be yelling for something. I’ll be glad when he’s back on his feet.’ William scratched his head. He’d just freed up some time for Daisy to
call her own, and now she was trying to fill it by looking after Jim and making mincemeat. She was an odd woman – never happier than when she was run off her feet.

Daisy nodded graciously. She’d have given up on her request to sell mincemeat in the shop if it had meant not looking after Jim. But, on his return, Daisy wanted to be with him as much as
possible, just to look into his smiling eyes and let him tease her. It had been a long time since she had felt like this, a long time indeed. As her obsession clouded her thoughts, memories of
Clifford Middleton arose, taking the shine off her feelings.

‘Bloody hell, the place has gone to the dogs without me!’ Jim Mattinson hopped on his crutch through the shop doorway and glanced around, while his brother propped
the door wide open for him. ‘What’s this stuff here? Another of your concoctions, I take it? Eh, I like the little bags of toffee. I bet they are going down a treat.’

‘Get yourself up them stairs, our Jim, you’re blocking the doorway.’ William urged his brother forward as a bustling shopper tried to get past.

‘Aye, can’t get in the way of a sale. What would Angelina say?’ Jim walked to the back of the counter and gave Daisy a peck on the cheek, making her blush.

‘You’re back then.’ She smiled.

‘Oh God, yes, he’s back. He didn’t stop moaning the whole way here.’ William sighed.

‘Aye, I’m back, lass, and I hear you are to be my nurse. You must be mad, trusting me in a bed.’ Jim winked as the customer left in disgust.

‘Enough! Get yourself up them stairs, and stop embarrassing Daisy and frightening our customers away.’ William was running out of patience with his free-talking brother.

‘All right, I’m off. See you later, Daisy petal.’ Jim winked as he hobbled up the stairs.

Daisy blushed. She was glad he was back. Looking after his every need would be no problem at all.

Freddie appeared, red and flushed in the face, just as Jim was making his way up the stairs. ‘Is that him then?’ he asked. ‘Is that the boss’s brother?’ He placed
his delivery basket on the counter.

‘Aye, that’s Jim.’ Daisy smiled and polished the already spotless china on display, thinking of the cheekiness of Jim Mattinson.

‘Well, he’s made you blush; there must be something about him. Do you fancy him, Mrs Lambert?’ Freddie smiled with his head on one side.

‘Don’t you be so cheeky. And get on with your orders.’ Daisy flicked her duster at the young lad’s ear, before swirling her skirts around her ankles and humming to
herself as she made herself busy arranging the window display.

Freddie grinned as he filled his basket with the next goods to be delivered. It was lovely to see Daisy happy. She had been kind to him, and she didn’t have to answer his question –
the pink of her cheeks told him all he needed to know.

The autumn days lengthened and, before anyone knew it, the long winter nights were upon everyone and the run-up to Christmas had begun. The streets of Leeds and Kirkstall were
grey and weary, as if weighed down by the year’s age. Before daylight, the knocker-uppers could be heard coughing loudly, long before their early-morning tap on the terraced bedroom windows.
The smog and grime in the air were awful, but life in the city had to go on.

Daisy wrapped her shawl around her. This was her first winter in Leeds and she didn’t appreciate the heavy, smoky air that clung around the streets, making its way into people’s
lungs, causing them to wheeze and cough and gasp for breath. She hurried quickly along the dark street, her baked goods in one hand and the keys for the shop in the other. Only the workers were out
at this time of the day, and in the dim gas-light she could make out the small form of Freddie waiting in the shop’s doorway. He was a good lad, was Freddie, and he was turning out to be an
asset to the shop. William Mattinson had bought him a respectable uniform, along with a thick winter coat and cap, and he’d scrubbed up well. He might have come from a rough part of town, but
he’d obviously been taught some manners, and Daisy had grown fond of the ‘li’l fella’, as she called him.

‘Morning, Freddie. It’s a miserable morning, but the sun might break through later on.’ She smiled and turned the key in the lock. The shop bell tinkled as she opened the
door.

‘It is, Mrs Lambert. I can hardly see my hand in front of my face, and I hope old Ginge doesn’t mind this weather, because we’ve a few deliveries to make this morning.’
Freddie followed in her footsteps and waited until Daisy put on her serving apron behind the counter.

‘You and that horse – he’s had a new lease of life since you started to look after him. I think he’s fed far too well. Have you had owt to eat this morning, or is your
belly empty? I bet I can guess: you slipped out of the house while everyone else was asleep?’ Daisy lit the small coal fire that kept the shop warm and put the blackened kettle on to boil.
‘We’ll have a brew, before I get started with the orders and you see to Ginger. And I suppose I can spare a penny or two for a currant bun from the baker’s, if you want to run and
get one for us to share. He’ll be open. Tell him I’ll know if it’s fresh or if it’s yesterday’s. He’ll only laugh, the old devil; he knows better than to give me
his leftovers,’ chuckled Daisy. She got on well with the baker and his wife, who worked further down the street, though she knew he tried to get rid of what he had left from the previous day
on unsuspecting customers. Daisy dropped a couple of pennies into Freddie’s hands and he beamed up at her. His eyes were full of gratitude and it melted her heart. He was a grand lad, and she
didn’t mind sharing her meagre wage on a bun in the morning to fill his hungry belly. ‘Go on then, be off! And then we’ll have to make a start on the day.’

‘Right away, missus. I’ll be back in a crack.’ Freddie turned on his heels, leaving Daisy grinning as she fed the fire a few more lumps of coal to warm the freezing shop. She
could hear footsteps up above her, suggesting that Jim was stirring from his sleep. His strength was returning, and it wouldn’t be long before life was back to normal and the two brothers
would be arguing about expenses and which goods to buy. As she brushed the hearth she could hear the familiar creak on the bottom step of the stairs. ‘Morning, sleepyhead. Another few days
and you can be lighting the fire, and then I can look forward to a warm place of work.’ She didn’t look round, thinking it could only be Jim making his way down the stairs.