Little Girl Lost (39 page)

‘There's not much time.' Margriet looked in the mirror and was pleased with what she saw. ‘Can you sew?'

‘Of course. You know my mother. Immi and I had to learn to knit and sew and make do and mend all kinds of things. Nothing is ever wasted. I could make a skirt very quickly, and I've got a white blouse that would go very well and Papa has a black waistcoat I can borrow.'

Margriet laughed. Everything was falling into place. ‘Well, why not?' she said happily.

When they went back into the dining room, everyone stopped talking and fell silent. Betty and Mabel stared at Margriet with their mouths open, whilst Billy frowned. ‘Is that you, Miss Margriet? You look different.'

‘I do, don't I? And,' she hesitated, ‘I hope I've done right, but I've had costumes made like this for Betty and Mabel, and for you and Jim some black trousers and waistcoats. I had to guess the sizes.' She began to open the parcels, and Betty and Mabel took out the skirts and held them against themselves, looking at each other with wide eyes.

‘Are these for us, miss?' Mabel said breathlessly.

Margriet said they were, and handed Billy and Jim their garments and then opened a smaller bag and brought out two peaked caps like the ones she'd seen the cheese porters wear at Gouda. ‘I said I'd bring you a cap, didn't I, Billy?'

‘You did, miss,' he said, and she sighed a little. They were never going to call her anything but miss. ‘But what 'they for?'

Margriet hesitated. If they did not like her suggestion, her whole plan would collapse. ‘If you agree, you're going to be flower sellers. I'll provide the flowers: tulips, narcissi, hyacinths, whatever's in season. I have a contact with some suppliers and they've agreed that we needn't pay them until the flowers are sold, and then whatever money is left over will be yours.'

Billy flipped his bottom lip with a finger as he thought about it. ‘Is there a catch?'

‘I don't think so,' Margriet said. ‘The Dutch costumes are because so many flowers come across from Netherlands, and people will be interested when they see you and stop to talk, and then they'll buy your flowers.'

‘What will 'market traders say?' Betty said. ‘They'll think we're pinching their trade. And besides, don't you have to register to be a trader?'

Mrs Sanderson raised her eyebrows. ‘I think we can sort that out, Betty,' she said, for she saw by Margriet's expression that this was something she hadn't thought of. ‘We'll say it's a try-out to help you street children earn money, and you'll apply for a licence if it works well. We know a few people we can talk to.'

Margriet smiled. They were warming to the idea; she could tell by the way they were turning to each other and murmuring. Then Betty said, ‘Can we try them on?'

‘Julia will help the girls,' Mrs Sanderson told them, ‘and Billy, there's a small lobby near the kitchen. You and Jim can change in there.'

They all rushed off after Julia and Mrs Sanderson smiled at Margriet. ‘It's going to work,' she said softly. ‘What a splendid thing to do. It will lift their spirits.'

‘I hope so,' Margriet said fervently. ‘It's already lifting mine. Now we have to get hold of baskets and buckets and tubs and paint Billy's handcart, because I'm going to suggest that he'll transport the flowers and keep the girls supplied when they sell. By the way, Julia would like to wear a costume too.'

Mrs Sanderson laughed. ‘I rather thought she might. If you don't object I think she'd be an asset.'

‘That would be lovely. I would be so glad of her help,' Margriet said with some relief, as she had thought that she might have to keep everyone's confidence up on her own if sales were low. Julia was such a positive person, just like her mother. ‘Thank you so much, Mrs Sanderson. You've been so kind and helpful.'

‘It's my pleasure,' Mrs Sanderson said warmly. ‘You've given these young people a chance of something good in their lives. You have given them hope.'

Hans Jansen followed Stephen Reynoldson as they stepped down from the train at the newly opened and imposing Paragon Station, which was closer to town than the older Kingston Street railway terminal. They had caught the earliest train from Leeds and it was now just after midday. He had been surprised when Reynoldson had written to ask if he could come again so soon after his last visit, but the manager had told him he had made a valuable contribution to the business and some of their clients had asked to see him again. This second trip had gone even better than the first. He had been introduced to contacts in Wakefield and Leeds and persuaded them to export more raw wool and woollen cloth through Vandergroene's. Import companies had placed new orders for Dutch cheese and Genever, or gin as they preferred to call it, and market garden suppliers who were already buying tulips had increased them. Reynoldson was delighted, and fully concurred with Gerben Aarden's view that Hans Jansen was a young man to watch for the future.

On the way back from Leeds, he had suggested that Hans might like to come and work temporarily at the Hull office, so that he could see how it linked with the one in Amsterdam. ‘It's important that we all know what the others are doing,' he had explained. ‘I spent some weeks in Amsterdam myself after Vandergroene died, to acquaint myself with the business there, and it was very beneficial.' Hans was pleased and flattered, and promised to consider the proposal.

As they stepped out of the concourse, Reynoldson turned to him and said, ‘I'd like to take a stroll to Market Place if you're not in a hurry to get back to your lodging. It's market day and there's something I'd like you to see.'

Hans said he was in no hurry at all. ‘What's happening?' he asked.

‘Well, you might not know this, but Frederik Vandergroene had a daughter. She's still only young, but she's recently begun to take an interest in the company.'

‘Ah, Margriet! Yes, of course. Is it today? The Dutch day?'

Seeing Reynoldson's surprise that he knew about the Dutch day, he explained that he had known Frederik very well as he had been a friend of his father's, and Margriet had been to their house as a child. ‘I called on Frederik's widow when I came last time, but Margriet had left for Amsterdam to visit her grandmother. Mevrouw Vandergroene is a friend of my mother's, and on my return home I was told of the Dutch plan. I'd love to meet Margriet again.'

The covered stalls stretched down the long road of Lowgate and Market Place and spilled into the square under the shadow of the ancient parish church of Holy Trinity which, Reynoldson told him, was presently undergoing urgent restoration. The market was packed with traders of fruit, flowers and vegetables, meat, fish and livestock, as well as those selling cloth and fancy goods; shoppers picked and bargained and inspected the fruit for bruises or maggots, whilst the stallholders called their wares and wrapped them in brown paper or popped them into waiting baskets and held out a hand for payment.

The two men wandered into the square and Hans thought he might not spot Margriet in the crush of people, but then he saw young girls on the brink of womanhood dressed in Dutch costume and white caps, as they might have been in Gouda or Volendam, or even Amsterdam, walking about the square with baskets of tulips in their arms. His mother had told him of their sewing session.

‘Why Dutch?' he had asked.

His mother had put her head on one side and said, rather wistfully, ‘She wants them to be noticed, but I feel that the way she has chosen to do it might be in remembrance of her father.'

He spotted a young errand lad dressed in baggy breeches like those he used to wear himself when he was a child. The boy wore a striped shirt under a black waistcoat and a red kerchief round his neck; he had clogs on his feet and a peaked cap was slipping over his ears. Another boy, a few years older, was pushing a bright green handcart decorated with paintings of tulips and windmills and filled with real tulips, narcissi and other spring flowers, replenishing the girls' baskets.

‘Have we supplied the flowers?' he asked.

‘Yes, but they'll be paid for,' the manager answered. ‘Miss Vandergroene insisted. She said that the young people had to learn that it was a business. I did give her a small discount, though. After all, she's one of our chief shareholders.'

Hans nodded. He also had a small number of shares. He hadn't known until recently that Frederik had left him and his mother and sister a stake in the business. Not enough to make them rich, he supposed, but a token of Frederik's esteem, and of his love for Lia.

And then he saw Margriet. He knew her instantly, even though he hadn't seen her for several years. She had lost the childhood plumpness in her cheeks, revealing her high cheekbones, and her eyes seemed larger as she looked about. Her shining hair, dressed in a single plait, hung over her shoulder almost to her waist, and her mouth … He stopped and gazed. Her mouth was soft and smiling …
She's lovely.
She had been a pretty child, but now she was beautiful.

He forgot about Reynoldson, who had gone to buy something from one of the stalls, and began to walk towards her, shouldering his way past the shoppers, many of whom were carrying bunches of tulips and sweet-smelling hyacinths. The press was so great that it seemed as if something or someone was trying to push him back, but determinedly he continued, ploughing a path towards her, watching her progress through the throng.

‘Margriet!' he called, and she turned in his direction. ‘
Goededag! Herinner je mij?
' Hello. Do you remember me?

She paused. ‘Is it Hans? Is it you? It is!' She held out both hands and he clasped them fervently. ‘I hoped you would come again, but didn't expect it to be so soon,' she said ardently. ‘My
oma
said you had come to England whilst I was in Amsterdam.' Then she laughed, and he felt a soaring joy. ‘My
oma
and yours spoke of you constantly. Klara was cross and said that you were your
oma
's darling boy!'

‘I'm afraid I am.' He laughed as well. ‘But she loves Klara too. How good it is to see you, after such a long time, Daisy.'

‘
Daisy!
' she murmured. ‘I haven't been called that since Papa—'

‘Oh, I'm so sorry.' He gently squeezed her hands, which he was still holding. ‘He – your father often referred to you as Daisy when he was speaking of you.'

‘It's all right.' She smiled and reluctantly he released her hands. ‘I like it, but no one else has ever called me that.'

‘Not your mother?'

She shook her head, her eyes lighting up with amusement. ‘Certainly not my mother. She's very proper.'

‘She was very welcoming when I called.'

Margriet laughed again. ‘Don't tell Klara, but you made a good impression on Mama. I think you know how to charm the ladies.'

He looked at her and hoped he could charm her too. But perhaps she was still too young – as he also was, he supposed. He must not frighten her away.

‘You've done very well, Margriet,' he said. ‘Your friends must be pleased. How many are there? I've counted three girls in costume plus you and the two boys.'

‘Yes,' she said, looking about her. ‘My friend Julia wanted to help; the other girls are Betty and Mabel, who have nowhere they can call home. The older boy is Billy and the other one is his brother Jim.' But she kept miscounting. She'd seen another girl dressed in Dutch costume, looking cross, pushing into Hans as he walked towards her. She thought it was Anneliese.

Hans was saying something, but she didn't hear him, her eyes searching the crowd for her friend. But then Betty was in front of her saying something too and she felt confused.

‘Sorry, what?'

‘I said I've run out of everything and I can't find Billy. And I've got this heap o' money.' Betty jingled the cloth bag in front of her. ‘What shall I do with it?'

Margriet mentally shook herself. ‘I'll take it until Billy gets back – he's volunteered to look after all the money until you can have a tally-up at the Sandersons'. He won't be long – he's just gone to fetch more flowers.'

‘Yes, but what shall I do now, miss? I'm all fired up and nowt to sell.'

Margriet had an idea. ‘You know Tom, don't you? His stall seems to be busy. Why don't you go over and ask if he'd like you to assist him until Billy gets back?'

Betty seemed doubtful. ‘Tom wasn't too pleased about us selling flowers and tekkin' his trade.'

‘I'm sure he'd be glad of the help; he doesn't appear to be managing very well on his own.'

‘Work for nowt, do you mean?' Betty frowned.

‘Yes, if necessary,' Margriet said. ‘He might not be able to pay you this time, but on the other hand I'm sure he'd be very grateful.'

‘All right,' Betty said. ‘I've nowt else to do,' and she wandered off towards the flower stall.

They watched as she spoke to the old man, and although he frowned at first and shook his head, he listened for a minute or two and then beckoned her to his side of the stall. The difference in Betty was immediately apparent. She seemed to grow in maturity as she called out for shoppers to come and buy Tom's blooms.

‘Come to owd Tom's,' she shouted. ‘Best in 'market. Come on. What 'you waiting for?'

She's in her element, Margriet thought. She's amongst people she knows, people like her, who talk as she does, and today she's proved that she can work.

Hans was watching too. ‘You've given her a chance to show what she can do,' he said. ‘Behind that costume she has found herself.'

Margriet nodded, still watching Betty at work.

‘I'm coming to work in the Hull office,' he murmured. Until that moment he hadn't made up his mind about Reynoldson's offer, but now he knew that it was what he wanted. ‘I'll start in a month's time.'