Читать книгу The Sweethearts Collection - Pam Jenoff - Страница 38

Chapter 28

A few days later, having spent her evenings frantically cutting and sewing, Colenso appeared in the workshop wearing her new outfit. She’d added the lace they’d found in the sewing drawer to the collar and cuffs of the dress and there’d been enough of the pink material left to make a matching scarf. Seeing how terrible the worn black boots looked against the beautiful bright material, she’d discarded them in favour of the new red shoes.

‘Goodness, what a transformation,’ Garren cried, looking up from the rock he was making. You look like one of those French bonbons, all shiny and tempting.’ Seeing the look of admiration in his eyes, she turned away. She liked Garren, but he was her employer and she didn’t want to complicate matters. Besides the cage around her heart was still firmly locked. ‘Sorry, that remark was out of order,’ he added.

‘It’s just that I was known as Bonbon at the Panam,’ she told him, seizing on the excuse so as not to offend him.

‘Bad memories, eh?’ he asked, looking searchingly at her. ‘Well, don’t worry, I won’t mention it again.’

‘You will deduct the cost of the materials from my wages, won’t you?’ she asked, eager to change the subject.

‘I promised, didn’t I?’ he replied, turning back to his task. Colenso watched as he cut the glistening mixture into sticks, releasing the fragrance of the rose flavouring.

‘Now that I’ve finished sewing, I wondered if I could help make the sweets in the evening?’ she asked. Scissors poised mid-cut, he looked up and shook his head.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude,’ she sighed.

‘You’re not,’ he laughed. ‘It’s just that one minute you insist I charge you for material and a scrap of lace, the next you’re offering to work on after the shop closes. You’re most welcome to, of course, but regrettably I can’t pay you any extra at the moment.’

‘All the same, I’d love to learn how to make the sweets as well as sell them,’ she said, excitement bubbling at the thought. The whole process of taking raw sugar and mixing it with a handful of ingredients to turn them into the jewel-like confections fascinated her.

‘Very well. You can have your first proper lesson this evening after supper. Now, you’d better take these through and replenish the jars. I can’t believe how quickly the last lot disappeared. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d been sampling them yourself.’

‘I wouldn’t do that,’ she retorted, then saw he was teasing. ‘Oh you,’ she muttered, gently slapping his arm before taking the tray through to the shop.

Colenso loved the quietude of the early morning as she prepared the displays ready for opening. There was something almost magical about the sweet-smelling atmosphere, she thought, pulling the big white apron over her new dress. Humming happily, she restocked the jars then set about dusting the counter and shelves. Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she couldn’t help smiling. The material looked even brighter in the daylight, putting her in mind of the vivid camellias she loved so much. In her new pink dress with the matching scarf holding back her dark hair, she looked quite the part of the sweetshop assistant and would be a match for that snooty proprietress next door. Remembering the woman’s jibe about the pavement, she snatched up the besom and hurried outside.

With autumn turning to winter, the air was colder now, the wind whipping in from the sea and bringing litter from the docks with it. At least it was dry and she was spared from having to sweep in the mud, she thought, catching sight of her bright red shoes.

‘Look at you all dolled up like a fancy trollop. Hasn’t taken you long to get your feet under the table, has it?’ Colenso looked up to see the shopkeeper from next door glaring at her.

‘Good morning, Miss Chenoweth,’ she said, ignoring the barb. For some reason the woman had taken a dislike to her, but Colenso was determined to be pleasant.

‘Think you’re going to lure him by prettying yourself up, do you? Well, handsome is as handsome does and Garren Goss likes a bit of class,’ she sniffed before, with her nose in the air, she stomped back inside. Bemused, Colenso shook her head.

‘Don’t mind her,’ Mr Goss said, appearing at her side. ‘Had her sights set on Garren ever since her parents took over the shop. Luckily, he’s more sense than to fall for the wiles of a wisp of spun sugar.’

‘You mean she’s not the proprietress?’ Colenso asked.

‘Good Lord no, ’tis her father who runs the place. Mind, it’s her that insisted on turning it into an epicurean though,’ he sighed. ‘Was always a normal grocery store before.’ Colenso’s spirits soared. For all her hoity-toity ways, it seemed Miss Chenoweth was just an assistant, the same as her.

‘Well, that’s a turn-up for the books,’ she grinned.

‘Might I say how attractive you look in that new outfit. Knew that colour would bring a bloom to your cheeks. It were a good day Garren took you on,’ he winked. ‘Oh, and he told me to let you know breakfast is ready.’ Colenso smiled as he shuffled down the street towards the seafront. Not having to help out in the workshop had already done wonders for his well-being.

The day sped by in a flurry of serving customers, replenishing the little jars, and tidying up. Before she knew it, she was preparing for her first proper lesson in sweet-making.

‘The fundamental thing to remember is that time is money,’ Garren told her, his hazel eyes serious. ‘A sweetshop proprietor needs to keep up with demand or he’ll never turn a profit and, believe you me, the margins are small to start with. Ingredients are too expensive to waste. Might seem obvious, but if you really want to learn how things are done, you need to start with the basics.’

‘I’m interested in every single detail,’ she told him. ‘Mammwynn used to say magical results come from mundane beginnings.’

‘Sounds a wise woman,’ he nodded. ‘Right, as you know, as the mixture cools it firms and so you need to work quickly before it sets. Therefore, it pays to set out all your ingredients and have your equipment ready before you begin. Tonight, we are making lemon drops, one of the easiest confections, as the acid helps prevent crystals forming in the hot liquid. It’s still important to start over a low heat to give the sugar a chance to fully dissolve.’ Colenso watched as he stirred, helping him wash down the sides of the pan when it reached the boil. Once he’d transferred the pan to the heatproof mat he turned to her and smiled.

‘Right, now you can add the colouring and flavouring.’ Excitement bubbled as she reached for the two little bottles he’d selected. ‘A couple of drops of each at most,’ he told her, brows furrowed in concentration as he watched her pour. ‘That’s enough, too much and the taste will be overpowering.’ Picking up the copper, he poured the lemon mixture onto the cooling table and turned it with a knife a couple of times. ‘Right, it’s beginning to hold its shape so you can knead and fold it over. Good,’ he said as soon as Colenso felt it stiffen.

‘Oh, it’s turning opaque,’ she exclaimed.

‘It’s ready then,’ he said, forming it up into a sausage shape and throwing it over the hook on the wall. ‘Now we stretch it to incorporate the air.’ She watched in fascination as he pulled it, threw it back over the hook and repeated the process. ‘And now for the shaping,’ he said, taking the elongated sausage and feeding it into the press. He turned the handle and her eyes widened as it came out the other end looking like a flat worm. ‘See those indentations?’ he asked. ‘Well, start snapping them apart. That’s it,’ he nodded as the yellow mixture broke into sweet-shaped lozenges. ‘All we do now is leave them to harden completely before packing them away into jars.’

‘I suppose you can leave them overnight to do that,’ she said.

‘You would think so, wouldn’t you?’ he replied, eyes twinkling with mischief. ‘However, one must never presume, Miss Carne. Because sugar, even in this form, absorbs moisture from the atmosphere, it is imperative the sweets are stored in airtight containers as soon as they are completely cold.’

‘Oh,’ she said, feeling stupid.

‘I would rather you asked questions and voiced opinions, Colenso, for that is the only way to learn. It also means you have been paying attention.’ His grin was so infectious she found herself smiling back. ‘Now let’s have a cuppa while we’re waiting. I always put water on to boil once the mixture has come off the heat. Efficient use of energy, see?’

‘Oh, excuse me,’ she said, trying to stifle a yawn.

‘Would you would prefer to retire? It has been a long day,’ he said, glancing at the clock.

‘A cup of tea would be most welcome,’ she replied. ‘I didn’t realize making sweets was such thirsty work.’

‘That’ll be the fumes from the colouring. I did say they were potent,’ he grinned, pouring water into the teapot on the little round table. ‘I must say you looked as though you enjoyed your sweet-making session.’

‘I did,’ she agreed, then took a welcome sip of her drink. ‘In fact, I can’t wait to do it again.’

‘Good, for tomorrow we shall be making barley-sugar twists and sugar-glass plate. It can get a bit steamy with two coppers on the boil so I hope you won’t mind.’

‘Mind? Why should I mind?’ she frowned.

‘Some women worry about their hair getting frizzed,’ he said, his eyes clouding.

‘Well, I’m just pleased mine is growing back,’ she said without thinking. ‘Oh, and of course, my scarf protects it,’ she added quickly. He was quiet as he poured them more tea.

‘Tell me a bit about yourself, Colenso,’ he invited. ‘Do you have any followers?’

‘I don’t think so,’ she replied. ‘I mean, I did but he didn’t pursue things so …’ she shrugged.

‘More fool him, if I might be so bold,’ he smiled, reaching out and patting her hand. ‘Sorry,’ he apologized. ‘Truth to tell, I feel comfortable in your company, even … well, something I haven’t felt for many a long year.’ She stared at him curiously but he changed the subject. ‘Well, those sweets are ready for packing. No, I’ll do it,’ he said as she jumped to her feet. ‘You’ve done enough for one day.’

✳

The next weeks followed a similar pattern and Colenso revelled in her new work. She was getting to know the customers, even predicting what some wanted as soon as they entered the shop. Garren was generous in his teaching and she was enjoying learning how all the sweets were made. She felt comfortable in his presence and an easy relationship formed between them, often ending with them sharing a cuppa at the end of the long day. Mr Goss senior, relieved to be free from the burden of working, took himself off to play cards or dominos with his friends and no longer appeared in the workshop.

One morning as Colenso was preparing the shop for opening, Garren appeared looking serious.

‘Do you realize it’s December next week?’ he asked.

‘Really? Goodness,’ she gasped, for in truth the days were passing so quickly she’d lost track of them. Is something wrong with those?’ Colenso asked, seeing him frowning at jars in the window.

‘Not as such. I was just thinking we’ll need to make some special sweetmeats in preparation for Christmas. Miss Chenoweth told me earlier she was surprised we hadn’t changed our window display. Apparently, the other confectioners in the town are already advertising their seasonal treats.’

‘Well, I suppose it does make sense to start planting ideas in the children’s minds. Reel them in with irresistible creations, remind them Father Christmas will soon be coming,’ she grinned, getting quite carried away with the idea.

‘Mother used to say the same,’ he admitted. ‘And she was a dab hand at making red and green streamers to hang everywhere.’

‘I’d be happy to decorate the shop,’ Colenso volunteered, remembering how Mammwynn used to love festooning her little cottage with holly, ivy and fir cones.

‘Would you?’ he replied, his expression lightening. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have much spare cash but I’m sure there are some scraps of green and red material upstairs. I’ll have a look later. First though, I need to post some letters. After which I might just take a detour and see what the competition’s up to,’ he chuckled. Once again, she couldn’t help thinking how much younger he looked when he smiled.

It was while he was out that she remembered Jago’s books. She was certain she’d seen receipts for Christmas confections when she’d been reading them in Mara’s van. As ever, thoughts of Mara made her feel bittersweet. On the one hand she hoped the woman had found happiness in the Summerlands with her lover, on the other it made her realize how much she missed her friend’s company and wise ways. Still, if there was one thing Colenso had learned from her, it was to make the most of the life you were currently living and not to dwell in the past. Unlike Jago, Garren paid her without fail every Thursday. Although it wasn’t much, not having to pay for her room or food meant she could save.

The jangling of the little bell brought her back to the present and she smiled down at the two children who dashed in ahead of their mother.

‘Uncle Sam’s given us money for sweets,’ they chorused, holding out their precious farthing.

‘What a nice uncle. Now, what would you like?’ she asked, smiling as they stood gazing longingly at all the jars.

‘Come on, you two,’ their mother urged. ‘We’ve still more shopping to do.’ She turned to Colenso and shook her head. ‘I knew I should have gone to the market first but they were so excited. It’s a rare thing for them to be able to come in here. Oh, do come on,’ she urged as they dithered between barley-sugar sticks and the rose rock.

‘Why don’t you have half of one of each?’ Colenso suggested. They nodded eagerly and watched wide-eyed as she selected the two sticks and cut them, making sure the pieces were equal, before wrapping them.

‘Thank you so much,’ the mother said, smiling wearily and ushering them out of the shop.

She’d just finished serving two elderly gentlemen with their twist of Nelson’s buttons and humbugs when Garren returned.

‘I have something for you,’ she greeted him. She was about to ask him if he would mind the shop whilst she went and got Jago’s receipt books when he held out a letter.

‘And I have something for you too,’ he replied. ‘Apparently, it’s been forwarded from Marazion. It was the name scrawled on the top that made the man in the post office ask if I knew who it might be for,’ he added, holding out an envelope. Recognizing the writing, her heart began thudding wildly, demanding to be freed from its cage.

‘Thank you,’ she stuttered.

‘I can see from your face it’s important, so why not take it to your room to read? I’ll mind the shop,’ he added, solemnly.