Fragile Blossoms (7 page)

‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘You must go away. You’re too late.’

She closed the window.

Bella, or rather Susan, as she turned out to be, arrived Friday evening. A hansom cab and a cart drove into the yard. All eyes and bump she stepped down from the hansom. Julia motioned her in. ‘Is this your box?’

Susan shook her head. ‘No, it belongs to him as fetched me.’

Stefan coughed. ‘It’s a few things to help you settle. No doubt Mrs Dryden will give all she deems necessary.’

Overawed, Susan blinked at him and he overweight Angel doling out blessings blinked back. ‘There’s more,’ he said, porters heaving metal trunks from the cart. ‘I’ll wait while they unload and then be on my way.’

‘But Stefan all this way, won’t you wait awhile?’ said Julia.

‘You have things to do. I shall not presume.’

She touched his hand. ‘You could never presume.’

‘I must go.’ He made a sad moue. ‘I am needed in Bradbury.’

They talked briefly of Karoline, how it is soon to be her fiftieth birthday and of Stefan’s plans. Julia kissed his cheek. ‘Give her my love and tell her I shall visit.’

Stefan stepped into the hansom and was gone. He left a letter. ‘
This is
Susan Dudley. It appears Lady Carrington prefers body maids to be known by the one name Bella. I brought Susan in the hush of the evening to save unnecessary neighbourly interest. Small towns have codes of conduct. They are not to be breached. On that subject I shall endeavour to make my visits few and far between and always in glare of day. One’s good name is easily lost and slow to replace. As a man who now happily claims the status of friend I will try not to overstep the boundaries of good manners and create for you difficulties.

I wish you every joy and every heart’s ease,

I am always your most humble servant,

Stefan Willem Adelmann
.

Along with the letter were details of a monthly sum transferred in her name to a local bank. Having seen the statement, and trembled at the generosity, Julia resolved to draw as little as possible.

The following morning she called at the bank and then to the Nelson.

Nan seemed rather cool. ‘You left your back door unlocked last night.’

‘Did I?’

‘You did. Luke found it so and he said not for the first time. ’

‘Please thank him and tell him I shall take greater care.’

‘Aye do! You don’t want anyone stealin’ from your fancy new tea shop.’

‘You’ve heard?’

‘Everyone’s heard.’

‘And you don’t think it a good idea?’

‘I do not. You’ve no experience runnin’ a place like that. Caterin’ is hard graft, twenty-four hours a day non-stop. Take it from one who knows.’

‘If the Newman sisters can do it why not me?’

‘Because you’re not cut out for it! I’ve heard Miss Clarissa was built like a carthorse and though they were sisters she didn’t share Justine good looks. She was a big woman with hips wide as canal boats. It was her did the heavy work and there is heavy work feedin’ folk.’

‘I know it will be hard.’

‘I hope you do. There were two of them. You’ve none but yourself.’

‘I can manage. You forget I looked after my father. A man whose wits are wandering needs a great deal of care.’

‘Yes and your father’s the reason you shouldn’t be doin’ it! You’re a vicar’s daughter not a person in trade!’

‘Nanette Roberts!’ Julia smiled. ‘You are a snob.’

‘I’m no snob. I like things to be in a correct order, every man in his rightful sphere, a ‘rich man in his castle and a poor man at his gate,’ so to speak. You dishin’ tea and scones to every Tom Tiddler and his wife it’s not seemly.’

‘Seemly or not I’m going to do it. And I shan’t be alone. I have Mrs Mac to help, and Maggie Jeffers, and our new young lady.’

‘Maggie Jeffers is a hindrance not a help. As for your young lady she might be young but from what I hear she’s no lady.’

Nan was cross with Julianna. Her and her dainty ways, what can she know of business? Elderly Irish spinsters pursuing a fancy is one thing but quite another for an English rose to do the same, a bruised rose at that. Julianna Dryden is bruised. A while back, smiling and promising to bring an opera programme, she caught a London train. When she left she was decently clad in a woollen coat and feathered hat. She brought back more than an opera programme! Her shoulders naked and hair loose she brought back a reputation.

One train journey and the whole of Bakers, Upper, Middle, and Lower, is agog. Seven in the morning looking like that, what was she thinking? And see her now! What’s happened to her fancy clothes? She’s gone from giving away costly scarves to haunted eyes and sending begging telegrams to London.

Nan is worried how Luke will react. He’s over his head dizzy on the girl and has been from day one. Nan asked him yesterday why he was getting involved. Eyes impenetrable he’d regarded her. ‘I’m involved in nothing.’

‘You are! You’re up to your eyes in it! I reckon you should stop workin’ there. Better to step back from a tangle than be drawn in.’

‘Don’t talk rubbish! I’m not being drawn into anything.’

‘Oh rubbish is it? Everything’s rubbish to you nowadays! No one can get a kindly word from you, not even the little lad you profess to love.’

Face moody and lips bitten to pieces he’d shrugged. ‘As you said, mother, best not to get drawn in. As for letting go of business you’re piping a new tune. Aren’t you the one always saying there’s no such thing as too much work? ’

‘This is different.’

‘How is it? One person’s brass is as good as the next. Why turn it down?’

‘Because money isn’t the payment you seek. You’re after somethin’ more precious. You’re after her heart.’

Slam! Another door closed he turned away. A closed door on a locked room is Luke Roberts. He never yells or throws things the more enraged he becomes the more silent. And he doesn’t visit the Nelson now. He used to come every day. Nan said to Albert: ‘Why doesn’t he come of an evening? But for a rabbit left on the table and logs chopped out back you wouldn’t know he was alive.’

Albert said to leave him alone. He’s a man not a lad. He doesn’t need his Ma pokin’ her nose in. Nan said she wasn’t poking her nose into anything. She was afraid for him.

Every mother thinks her son handsome. Luke is a right good looking. Muscles of iron and body of an athlete he takes after his father. He has brain too, a mathematician able to count the stars in the sky. Young Matty calls Luke Mister Wolf. That boy will never know how right he is. Luke has the heart and soul of a wolf, an Italian wolf hunting the mountains fierce and dangerous.

Albert Roberts is not Luke’s father. It was Albert, bless him, who years ago took Nan in when she was two months gone with another man’s child. Back in ’68 Letty Morris, a seven year old mule-gatherer used for scavenging weave under cotton gins fell into the canal. Luke’s father went in after her but both he and Letty got caught up in the suck. Apart from a mangy cat bedded under the sink Letty left none to grieve. Luke’s dad, Lucca Claudio Aldaro, left his lover a peppercorn ring on her finger and a child in her belly.

Lucca Aldaro was born in the Apennine Mountains: ‘
Where the light streams over snow caps, mio caro, Nanette
,
and where the grey wolf runs free.
’

As a boy he came with his mother to England leaving the sunshine of Italy for the soot of Manchester. A shuttle-maker he was in Murrays Mills, Ancoats, Little Italy as they call it. Nan met him on the banks of the canal. He was fishing. ‘
Buon giorno, bella signorina,
’ he’d said, dark eyes smiling. Good day beautiful lady is what he said. It turned out to be a special day for Nanette Ramsden. Instant love and misplaced passion she was then. Now that passion is alive in her son. Luke knows nothing of his real father but from the onset treated Albert with the kindness you offer a child. Albert is the only one he does treat kindly. As far as Luke is concerned compassion died alongside his brother, Jacky Roberts.

Nan blames herself for that death. Her firstborn conceived out of wedlock she sees it as punishment from above. Luke blames himself. ‘I shouldn’t have left him.’ It is pointless saying you can’t watch everything. As Nan mortifies the flesh so does Luke. His passion then was for his brother. His passion now is Anna and as with Jacky will endure forever. He never speaks of her. If Nan mentions her name there’s a clang of a lock. It’s all there, thirty years of the right sun shining on the wrong land. No matter what he’ll hold true to Julianna now until he does as his father did, jump in the deep end and drown.

*

Maggie, whose nose is put out by the arrival of a newcomer, but who has seen and heard enough not to complain, knocked on the door.

‘Is Susan Dudley to share my room? And the work, madam, are we to share that? Only with a bump in front I can’t see her bendin’ over a stove.’

Maggie exaggerates. The bump is not so big Susan can’t bend. ’You shall keep your place as kitchen maid and you’ll help Mrs Mac when needed.’

‘And what will Susan Dudley do?’

‘She’ll do as she’s bid.’

Julia settled it thus with Mrs Mac. ‘I am happy with the way Matty has taken to you. Are you willing to take on the post of nanny and help in his general welfare? Susan Dudley can take on the role of parlour maid.’ Mrs Mac’s face lengthened until Julia continued. ‘A personal maid is a diminished role. If the tea-shop is to happen I must manage my own makings. Early to bed and earlier to rise I shall need a right-hand man not a maid. I shall need you, Maud.’

Mrs Mac grabbed Julia’s hand. ‘I’ll do it, madam! I’ll be your right-hand. I’ll be nanny to Master Matthew and I shall cook too. I never said before but I am a good cook. My almond tarts and chocolate éclairs have been called melt-in-mouth. I’ll make a batch. You see! You can taste for yourself.’

Maud went to bed wreathed in smiles. Julia allowed herself a smile. Kitchen politics be damned! Stefan would be proud of me, as would Owen, and for that matter Luke Roberts. No! That name ringing in her head and a sturdy bolt is shot across her heart. She must not think of him. It hurts too much.

It is difficult to forget. The impassioned plea, and effect it had, felt like the cutting of a honey-coated knife, sharp and yet so sweet. He makes no attempt to repeat his vow even so it’s difficult seeing him about the house. The refurbishment complete Julia thought she’d no need to employ him but now the kitchen is in need of extra shelves, and the Roberts men are as good as many at their trade and better than most.

*

Julia took the linen sheets from the trunk. Mrs Mac shook them out. ‘What do you plan to do with them, madam? They’re too big for beds.’

‘I’m going to make table linen. I can get three or four cloths per sheet, a good many napkins, and keep the lace edging for cake stands.’

‘Won’t paper frills be better? The linen will get awful sticky.’

‘I know it will but starched they will look so much nicer.’

‘It’s extra work.’

‘Even so we’ll do it. If we are to gain the right reputation we need to do it right, good food, excellent service, starched table linen and the best silver. Did you see the Georgian tea service? Maggie’s made an excellent job polishing.’

‘She has her uses.’

‘How does she get along with Susan?’

‘She tried swanking about a bit but Susan soon put a stop to that. She might be little but she’ll not take truck from that quarter.’

‘Susan will need to stick up for herself. It’s a harsh world for a mother alone.’

‘Do you know anything about her, madam, how she came to be in trouble?’

‘No and I won’t ask, and neither shall you! You have been so helpful to me, Maud. I would hate us not to agree on the need for kindliness.’

Throat working Mrs McLaughlin looked overcome and was a while answering. Then she swallowed. ‘What shall we do when the baby comes?’

‘We’ll manage.’

The truth is Mrs Mac is fast becoming a jewel in the projected crown. ‘Madam, I’ve been thinking about supplies and reckon Joe Lyons must buy in. They have to. They can’t feed everyone with food cooked on the premises. They haven’t time. We can bake cakes and the like, and, we could buy from local wives. It would be good for business and sure to get them rallying round.’

‘I was hoping local wives would be our customers.’

‘Oh no! No use depending on them as customers. There’ll be a few that will like the occasional outing especially at the beginning but housewives won’t fill the coffers, they don’t have the money. The big trade is what we must aim for, them that like to sit about and spend.’

‘And where will we find those?’

‘Out there.’

‘Out where?’

‘There!’ Mrs Mac’s finger pointed to a steady stream of carriages winding up the Rise to Greenfields.

‘Oh my word!’ Julia rushed to the window. So wrapped in her own concerns she hadn’t considered the Lansdowne place. Judging the activity, footmen and other attendants bustling in and out, the house was At Home to the world.

Mrs Mac was popping with excitement. ‘Who do you suppose lives there?

‘I don’t know. Rags to riches it could be anybody. But don’t worry. Bakers End has its own telegraph system. Give it a day and we’ll know.’

How true was that statement! The next day a jubilant Nan tapped on the window. ‘Yankees have moved into Greenfield House!’

‘Yankees?’

‘Americans.’

‘And is that good news?’

‘It’s the best! The word is it’s a family with bags of money. The difference this will make to Bakers. It will open the village right up. I’m so cheered with the news l feel like gettin’ down on my knees and givin’ thanks.’

‘Good heavens!’

‘Aye, good heavens! This is not a newly minted English Lord who doesn’t know how to be happy. This is a mining millionaire or rather his widow. I heard she’s planning to stop and has a dozen carriages and servants all over the shop.’

‘That sounds like good news for the Nelson.’

‘And for you, Anna! Think about it, traffic climbing that Rise. They’ll come from everywhere. There’ll be those for the Big House and then others on the way to Sandringham. And they’ll all have dusty throats. The gents will want beer and a nice steak pie, which of course the Nelson will be supply, and the ladies will be lookin’ for a quaint old English town to drink quaint old English tea.’