Читать книгу The Sweethearts Collection - Pam Jenoff - Страница 36

Chapter 26

The rain was still falling in torrents, and the wind blowing in from the sea carried the tang of salt, making Colenso feel thirsty as well as hungry. Finding herself outside the tall church she had seen earlier and too exhausted to go any further, Colenso decided to seek refuge inside. However, the big wooden door was locked and so, biting back tears of frustration, she slumped down in the narrow porch. She shivered as an owl hooted then saw a pale flash as it swooped low in front of her. There was a piercing scream followed by an eerie silence. Pulling her shawl tighter around her, she realized it was going to be a long night. How could she have been so stupid as to pull her money from her basket in broad daylight? Grief must have dulled her senses, she thought, trying not to look at the lichen-covered gravestones that loomed luminously out of the darkness. Penniless and homeless, the threat of the workhouse or worse was fast becoming a reality.

The clock on the tower struck midnight, its mournful tones sounding loud in the quietude of night. She tried to formulate a plan but images of Kitto rose in her mind instead. Surprisingly, they no longer filled her with joy. He’d obviously had a change of heart and didn’t care enough even to reply to her letter let alone follow her. Never would she put herself in such a vulnerable position again, she thought, her heart pricking with pain. She’d lock her emotions into a cage. No longer would she torture her mind, reflecting on what might have been. Somehow, she’d make a new life, though where and how, she had no idea.

She must have fallen asleep, for the next thing she knew the sky was lightening to grey. Mercifully, the rain had stopped and the grass smelled fresh, glistening like a carpet of diamonds. Stretching her stiff limbs, she picked up the basket and got to her feet. Onward and upward, she told herself as she made her way down the path and out onto the street again. Her stomach rumbled loudly and she thought longingly of the bokoli she’d shared with Mara. Dear Mara, she hoped her lover had come for her and that they were happy together in the afterlife.

Being early, the streets were deserted apart from the sewage cart collecting the night soil. Holding her nose, she hurried on until she came to the town with its sprawl of shops. She looked around, hoping to find one that was open, although how she was going to purchase anything, she had no idea.

The tempting smell of baking lured her to the back of a shop where two men were busy taking loaves out of a huge oven.

‘I’m seeking work, do you have any positions?’ she asked, eyeing the bread hungrily.

‘We don’t employ vagrants here,’ a woman said, appearing from a door behind.

‘But I’m not …’ Colenso began.

‘Be off. Scat,’ she said, shooing her away with her cloth.

Vagrant indeed, Colenso fumed as she made her way further up the street. Hearing the sound of hooves, she turned to see a man driving a donkey cart laden with a milk churn, ladle clanking on the sides. Her mouth watered and she raised her arm to hail him before remembering she had no money.

Realizing she needed to concentrate on getting a position, she crossed the road to the raised pavement where the better shops were. As she stood on the granite paving deciding which way to go, her nose twitched. There was an acrid smell coming from the premises in front of her. She tried the handle then, when it didn’t turn, peered through the window but couldn’t see anyone, only rows of jars lined up along a counter.

With the smell of burning growing ever stronger, she hurried down the side passage where smoke was pouring out from an open door. Rushing inside, she blinked in the steam-filled room then spotted a huge copper pot, its contents boiling over and spilling onto the range. Snatching up a cloth, she carefully removed the pan from the heat and set it in the sink, where it sizzled and spluttered as the seething mass began to settle. Whatever it had been was black and beyond saving.

A snort followed by a snore made her jump, and spinning round she noticed an old man asleep in a chair in the corner of the room. As the smoke cleared, she saw he had a long white beard that rested on his chest. He looked so peaceful she didn’t like to wake him. Instead she walked around, taking in the huge cone of sugar on the cupboard, funny long thin tables that appeared to be made of tin, a strange-looking roller. Shelving housed different moulds and rows of little bottles, some brown others clear. Utensils hung from nails, and two large hooks were set incongruously on one wall.

‘Can I help you?’ a voice asked as a man appeared in the doorway. He was carrying a sack over his shoulder, which he dumped unceremoniously on the floor as his hazel eyes surveyed her. He was sporting a white apron over his twill shirt and looked to be in his late twenties.

‘I smelt burning and saw a cloud of smoke but couldn’t find anyone,’ Colenso told him. ‘Whatever was in that pot was boiling over.’ She gestured to the sink. ‘I’m afraid it’s made a dreadful mess of your stove.’ At another snore from the corner, the younger man sighed.

‘That was sugar syrup and you have clearly saved us from disaster, Miss …?’

‘Carne, sir. Colenso Carne.’

‘Well, Miss Colenso Carne, you have my undying gratitude. I am Garren Goss and the man asleep at his post is my father, the proprietor here. We were making rock and ran out of supplies. He was meant to be watching the mixture while I went out to the store cupboard, but obviously he had to rest his eyes as he calls it. Probably be asleep for a while now.’ Although he stood shaking his head, Colenso could see he was clearly fond of his aged parent.

‘Glad to have been of help. I gather you run a confectioner’s here then,’ she added, remembering the jars on the counter in the front of the shop. He nodded.

‘Father and Mother ran it quite successfully until she was taken ill.’ His eyes clouded with painful memories.

‘I’m sorry. You’re clearly busy so I’ll leave you to it,’ she said, picking up her basket and heading for the door.

‘I was about to make some tea and toast,’ he said, shaking himself back to the present. ‘Would you care to join me, Miss Carne? It’s the least I can do under the circumstances.’ The mention of food set her stomach growling and she grinned ruefully.

‘Thank you, it’s quite a while since I last ate,’ she explained. His eyes lit up, gold flecks turning his eyes jade, but as he stood looking at her his smile turned to a frown.

‘Perhaps you would like to clean up while I prepare everything. You’ll find the, er, outhouse and pump in the yard.’ How rude, she thought, then following his gaze saw her skirt was stained and crumpled, her boots coated in mud and goodness knows what else. No wonder the woman at the bakery had thought her a vagrant.

‘Thank you, yes,’ she said quickly. Ashamed to be seen in such a state, she hurried outside.

The yard was enclosed by a limewashed stone wall, a wooden structure which was clearly the privy at the bottom, while a pump stood on a slab of granite nearby. She set about making herself as respectable as possible before, feeling refreshed and ravenous, she went back indoors. The smell of toasting bread greeted her, setting her stomach rumbling again.

‘Do take a seat,’ he invited, setting down a plate piled high with slices of browned bread. There was no tablecloth but the little round table was now set with china and cutlery. As she sat down, he began pouring tea from a brown pot. ‘Forgive the basic ware, Miss Carne. Mother would have had her best china laid out, but regrettably she was laid out herself earlier in the year.’

‘Sorry for your loss,’ she murmured.

‘Mercifully she went quickly, and life has to go on. Although Father hasn’t really recovered from the shock. Anyway, here’s your tea,’ he said. ‘Help yourself to milk and sugar.’ Colenso stared at the steaming earthenware mug and thought she’d never seen anything so wonderful in all her life. She was so hungry, she finished her toast in minutes and eagerly accepted another slice. It was only when they’d eaten and had drained the pot dry that Garren turned to her.

‘Your accent tells me you’re Cornish but not from Penzance, so what brings you to these parts?’

‘It’s a long story,’ she sighed. ‘Suffice to say I find myself without a roof over my head and no job with which to buy food. I am indebted to your kindness, sir.’

‘Garren, please,’ he corrected. A loud snort emanated from the corner. ‘Father’s well away,’ he smiled, looking towards the old man. ‘He’s really too old to be helping in the shop. Since Mother died he’s lost all interest, losing himself in sleep. Still, at least I can keep an eye on him – when I’m not replenishing stocks, that is,’ he grinned. ‘Mind you, it’s taking me ten times longer to do even the most basic chores. I can’t be in here making the sweets and serving in the shop at the same time.’

‘So this is a workshop as well as a kitchen, then,’ she said, the strange tin tables and equipment now making sense. ‘And now you’ll have to make more syrup for the rock,’ she said, nodding towards the big pan in the sink. He stared at her in surprise.

‘You know about such things?’ he asked, his eyes widening.

‘I spent the summer working on the Panam at the fair. Jago, the journeyman, sometimes took me with him to collect supplies and I saw how rock and lollipops were made,’ she smiled, remembering her time with Karla.

‘And judging by your expression you clearly enjoyed it, but you spoke in the past tense, so what happened?’

‘The woman I lived with died then the fair disbanded for the winter,’ she sighed. He sat looking at her for a long moment.

‘Well, Miss Carne, I need an assistant who knows how to make sweets and you are in need of a job so perhaps we can help each other. I can’t pay much but there is a little box room next to the workshop, which you’d be welcome to use. Father and I live upstairs so you wouldn’t be disturbed.’

‘That would be the answer to my prayers, Mr, er, Garren,’ she cried, her spirits lifting only to fall when she remembered the derision of the manager at the Wherrytown Works. ‘But don’t you require a character?’

‘I think I’m a good judge of character, Miss Carne, and you look good to me,’ he grinned. ‘Why don’t we give it a trial of one month? If either of us isn’t happy during that time we can revise the situation.’ He held out his hand and, unable to believe her good fortune, she shook it firmly. There was another snort from the corner followed by gentle snoring, making them both laugh.

‘I think Father will be asleep for quite a while yet, so why don’t I show you around?’

‘Oh, yes please,’ she replied, a quiver of excitement tingling her spine.

She followed him past a staircase and through a little arched door that led into the shop itself. The walls were lined with wooden shelves with drawers beneath them, their golden handles gleaming in the gloomy interior. On the counter was a set of brass scales, tiny weights in a tin alongside and the empty jars she’d seen earlier. On the shelf behind were trays of glistening sweets waiting to be decanted into them.

‘These will go in the windows when they’re filled, but luckily we haven’t been that busy of late,’ he explained, pointing from the jars to the bays with their tiny panes of glass. Luckily? What a strange thing to say, Colenso thought. Seeing her puzzled look, he grimaced.

‘I mean obviously I want more custom, but with Father the way he is … well, those that have the money to buy confectionery expect prompt service and …’ he shrugged. Colenso nodded and stared around the room, gathering an overall impression. Everywhere was clean but clinical, and the dim interior was hardly conducive to tempting people through the door. She could see how a woman’s touch could make it look more inviting, but guessed everything had changed when Mrs Goss had died.

‘How do you serve the sweets?’ she asked.

‘Why, in twists of these,’ Garren replied, holding up a pile of thin, plain paper. ‘Although Mother used to tie ribbon around if it were purchased as a gift. Now, I think I can hear Father moving about so let’s go back through and I’ll introduce you.’

Colenso followed him back through to the kitchen.

‘Father, this is Miss Colenso Carne. She has kindly agreed to come and work for us. My father, Edwin Goss,’ Garren said.

‘Didn’t hear you arrive, where did you spring from?’ he frowned, staring at her from under his white bushy brows.

‘You fell asleep whilst the syrup was boiling, Father. Luckily Colenso here smelt it burning or we could have had a nasty fire in here,’ Garren explained.

‘Only rested my eyes for a few minutes. I am old, you know,’ the man muttered defensively.

‘I do know, Father, and now Colenso can take over some of your duties,’ Garren told him. The man scratched his head, and it was evident he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to relinquish any.

‘Of course, I’ll appreciate any advice you can give me,’ she told him. Immediately the man’s eyes brightened.

‘Taken me years to learn everything, it has,’ he told her. ‘Make everything proper here. None of that bulking out the others do. Everything is pure, well, apart from those colours,’ he said, pointing to the little bottles. ‘Some come from coal tar waste, they do, and can be toxic for those who don’t know what they’re doing.’

‘Quite,’ Garren said quickly. ‘That’s why I thought I’d make the confections while Colenso takes care of the shop. Now, where are your things?’ he asked, turning back to her.

‘Here,’ she said reaching for her basket.

‘That all you got?’ the old man asked. ‘Where are all your clothes?’

‘These are the only ones I possess,’ Colenso told him.

‘Well, you’d best get on and make some new ones. We get a good class of person in here and they expect to be served by someone looking neat and tidy at the very least. I ain’t having you serving in my confectionary looking like a scarecrow.’

‘Father, really.’

‘No, it’s all right, Garren. Mr Goss does have a point,’ she sighed. ‘No one will want to be served by me looking like this,’ she said, gesturing to her tattered green attire. Then, hefting the basket over her arm, she made for the door. She was about to step outside when she heard the old man chuckle.

‘Come back and sit yourself down. Likes a bit of spirit in a girl, I do, livens up the day. My Meggie were like a frosted fruit too. Sweet on the outside but with bite in the centre,’ he sighed, the light going out of his eyes. Not wishing to upset him, Colenso let herself be led back to the chair she’d been sitting on earlier.

‘Good, that’s decided. You’re staying,’ Garren said, looking relieved. ‘Now I’ll show you to your room.’

‘Not so fast, son. Don’t suppose you thought to test her capabilities.’ The man turned to Colenso. ‘If you really want to work then you can begin now,’ he said, staring Colenso straight in the eye. ‘That pot isn’t going to wash itself and look at the state of the stove.’ Knowing he was throwing down the gauntlet, she set down her basket and went over to the sink.

‘It’s a good job I’m not wearing my best clothes or they’d be ruined,’ she quipped, snatching up the cloth.

‘She’ll do, son,’ the old man chuckled. ‘Mind you, I’d hate to see standards slip, my Meggie always looked fresh as a daisy when she served in the confectioner’s.’