by Emma Hornby
Sighing in pleasure, she closed her eyes. ‘Eeh, lass, it’s heaven.’
‘Aye? You’re sure the flavouring’s not too overbearing? Now be honest.’
‘Nay, you’ve got it just right with this batch. It’s delicious, it is, really.’
Lizzie blew hair from her hot brow and laughed in relief. ‘Thank the good Lord for that. I were worried for a while there that we’d have to turn the order down.’
‘I had every faith in thee, as ever.’
‘Right, then. Let’s get started.’ Grinning, Lizzie sprang from her seat with fresh purpose. ‘Pass us one of them bowls across, love, and I’ll get another mix on t’ go for the first tier.’
After sampling their wares from the market, an impressed trader’s wife with the shillings to spare had approached them yesterday to ask if they did outside catering – Laura and Lizzie hadn’t known what she meant at first, and the woman had gone on to explain. Her son was soon to be married and she wanted to surprise the couple and guests alike with a unique wedding cake in the style of that designed for the Prince and Princess of Wales, which had been the talk of the empire a decade earlier.
She’d seen the creation in a newspaper at the time and had never forgotten it – would it be beyond the women’s capabilities? she’d wanted to know. Was it possible they could pull off a replica, albeit on a more modest scale – from her descriptions? Of course, without the royal price tag and at a fraction of the cost? she’d hastened to add.
After a private discussion, an elated Laura and Lizzie had agreed to take on the order, certain they could find spare time to fit it around their usual bakes. Arriving home from Smithfield’s, they had got started right away. After numerous attempts, during which they had stressed and fretted they had bitten off more than they could chew, trial and error had paid off – they were finally on the right track. Now, their excitement had returned and, with renewed vigour, they got back to work.
When, days later, the customer came to collect it from the stall, her mouth fell open in surprised delight. For several minutes, she circled it in silence, taking in every detail. Then she gazed from Laura to Lizzie in gratitude and there were clear tears in her eyes.
‘You’ve more than exceeded my expectations. Such talent! If not the empire, it will be the talk of the district, I’m sure. Thank you, truly.’
She wasn’t far wrong – it was, in a word, stunning. The whole court had gathered around to marvel at it this morning upon its completion – the women had toiled throughout the night to get it finished. Laura and Lizzie, bursting with happiness, had accepted their neighbours’ praise with exhausted smiles. It had been a hard slog but worth it, they both agreed.
Of course, it was significantly smaller than the five-foot wonder presented to the royal couple. And theirs was more simplistic in design as, without a visual representation of the original, they had had to guess at its intricacy. Nonetheless, the three-tiered creation, elaborately iced and decorated and festooned with delicately shaded roses and orange blossom, was a work of art, and they were inordinately proud of it and themselves.
‘If I never see another wedding cake, it’ll be too soon,’ Lizzie announced with a chuckle as they watched the thrilled woman leave.
Smothering a yawn, Laura nodded agreement. ‘Well, besides your own, that is.’
‘Hm.’ Lizzie shrugged. ‘Nay, I don’t think so. I don’t think I’ll bother.’
‘Oh. I see, well … you know best, I’m sure,’ said Laura awkwardly, not quite knowing how to respond to this and her friend’s dismissive air. ‘Everything is all right, ain’t it, lass?’ she hazarded to ask after some seconds.
Staring off with a faraway look, Lizzie nodded slowly. ‘Aye. Everything’s just fine.’ Then, as she was wont to do of late whenever anyone mentioned her upcoming wedding, she swiftly changed the subject. ‘So, how did we do in t’ end, brass-wise, love?’
Laura wondered if she should attempt again to press the matter but decided against it. It really was none of her business and, besides, if Lizzie wanted to talk about it with her, she’d have done so by now. ‘We’ve made a clear profit, aye. Not much of one, I grant you, but this could be just the beginning. Hopefully, if we get more orders like the last on top of what we’re already fetching in on t’ regular cakes … the money will soon start rolling in.’
‘You reckon?’
‘I do.’
‘Eeh, who’d have thought it? We’ve come a long way from scrawling letters in t’ centre of simple sponges, ain’t we?’
Laura laughed softly. ‘Aye.’
‘Thinking on it, mebbe we should have asked her for her son and future daughter-in-law’s initials – we could have included them. Carved them around the edging, like, aye. Would have been a nice touch, that. Aye, well, summat to think about next time, eh?’
But Laura had stopped listening. Gasping for breath, she staggered back in sudden realisation. ‘My good God …’
‘What is it, love?’ Lizzie rushed to put an arm around her shaking form. ‘Is summat wrong? The babby …?’
‘Nay. The babby’s fine. I’m fine, I … I’m sorry. I have to go.’
‘Go? But love, what—’
‘I’m sorry,’ Laura repeated, wrapping her shawl around herself. Without another word, she picked up her skirts and hurried away.
How had she not made the connection before?
Having set off at a run the moment the train hissed into Bolton station and having hardly stopped for breath since, Laura was weak-kneed with exhaustion when Breightmet eventually appeared on the horizon. Sucking in air, she slowed her pace, but her gaze remained fixed on the strip of green hills straight ahead.
Her dreams. Adam and Amos’s whisperings. A.C. and L.T. A.C. and L.T. Over and over …
It now made perfect sense.
It was almost as if they had been trying to warn her, to guide her … Of course, Father wasn’t aware of the money’s existence in life; did a soul develop an all-knowing sense in death? Had to. As for Adam … He’d wanted to help her find it, too, must have. Was this his way of saying sorry – compensation, almost – for all he’d put her through? Would it really be there?
She purposefully skirted Red Lane, the quarry and Dotty’s and all that went with it, and headed towards Breightmet Fold, where she and Adam had dwelled throughout their marriage.
The small farmer’s field adjoining the cluster of homesteads where stood their former cottage looked exactly as it always had. She peered out towards its border and the clump of aged trees. Then she was running again, knew she’d solved the mystery, knew she was right, had to be.
Then there they were.
A smitten couple’s initials from long ago. Before they were wed and the future promised her the world. Before he revealed his true self and everything changed. A.C. and L.T. engraved in the trunk of a broadleaf tree.
They used to go walking around here, her and Adam. They would picnic, just the two of them, would sit beneath the boughs’ canopy, laugh and kiss, discuss their hopes and their wishes for the rest of their lives together. The day she’d accepted his proposal, he’d scrawled the letters in the bark with a small knife from his pocket, cementing their union in nature’s hold for ever. They stood out clearly still, as though they had been put there only yesterday.
Laura traced her fingers over them. She thought of all that had been and all that had gone wrong and shed a tear. Then she stooped and scanned the tree’s base.
She found it in seconds. A tin wedged in a hollow, concealed from the unsuspecting eye by tall grasses. She eased it out of its wooden refuge, put it under her shawl and walked away.
Arriving back in Manchester, Laura headed straight for home. She climbed the stairs and made for the small chest by the window, where she hid the metal box under the folds of clean bedding in a drawer. Then she set off back to the market.
‘Love! Eeh, I were that worried.’ Lizzie hurried from around the stall to greet her. ‘What became of thee? Why d
id tha rush off so earlier? You sure it ain’t the babby? Nowt’s wrong?’
‘Nowt’s wrong,’ Laura assured her with a quiet smile. ‘I came over a bit poorly sick is all. Fresh air and a lie-down have set me right again.’
‘Tha should have stopped put at the court,’ her friend chided. ‘I’d have managed here.’
‘No need, lass. I’m all right, now.’
‘Well, if you’re sure … there’s a customer over there wants serving … if you’ll see to her whilst I tidy up the stock …?’
That night, as Ebenezer Court slept, Laura lay in bed staring at the chest’s shadowy outline through the darkness. Finally, as the first fingers of new daylight were touching the sky, she rose and padded across the room.
After retracing her steps, she lit the stub of candle on the side table. Then, sitting cross-legged, she opened the tin and tipped its contents on to the counterpane in front of her.
Ten minutes later, she slipped the find back into the drawer with shaking hands.
Thoughts frozen, mind numb, she returned to bed.
CHAPTER 26
‘I JUST CAN’T believe it. I can’t.’
‘And why ever not? Didn’t I say there would be more orders?’ Smiling, Laura passed Lizzie’s filled cup across and trained the teapot on her own.
‘You did, aye, but … Eeh, love. I can’t believe it,’ her friend said again in wonder, and they both laughed.
A guest at the wedding of the trader’s wife’s son for whom they had made the royal replica bake had approached them earlier to ask if they would create one similar for her soon-to-be-married daughter. If she was happy with the product, she’d be sure to use them again for another daughter’s birthday cake, she’d promised. Things were moving swiftly – business was definitely on the up. Lizzie could hardly contain herself.
‘I’ll fetch in our Mary to help us this time, shall I?’ she suggested now. ‘It fair killed us last time trying to do it all ourselfs – what d’you think?’
Laura agreed. ‘That’s a good idea, aye. We could make it a regular thing, if your sister stands up to muster.’
‘Eeh, us taking on staff.’ Lizzie chuckled in awe of their success. ‘We’re going places, us, love. We are that. In fact, I’ve been pondering … Nay, forget it.’
‘Go on,’ Laura urged, warmed by Lizzie’s growing ambition. You’d never have believed she was the same woman who had been too terrified not so long ago to even contemplate giving their venture a try. ‘What had you in mind?’
‘Well … A shop. A proper one, like.’
‘Our own confectioner’s?’
Lizzie nodded then pulled a face. ‘It’s a daft idea, in’t it?’
‘Nay,’ said Laura quietly. ‘Nay, it’s not.’
‘Only you see premises to let all t’ time and, well, if business keeps up the way it is …’
‘And my kitchen’s hardly roomy, is it? And if we were to take on Mary …’
‘It’d be more cramped still,’ Lizzie finished for her, her enthusiasm mounting. ‘Happen, in time, if we saved really hard, we could see about renting summat. Just think of it, all that space. And we could set out everything in t’ window all nice, like. That would get the cakes noticed better, draw in more sales. We could take on extra orders on t’ side, as we are now, mebbe even employ a couple more hands besides my sister when things really pick up.’ She stopped for breath and grinned. Then: ‘Even Frank reckons it’s a sound idea.’
That the market trader’s name had cropped up didn’t surprise Laura – every conversation you had with Lizzie of late she’d inadvertently fit his name into it somehow. Had Lizzie’s fondness of him grown into something deeper? she mused, as she’d frequently found herself doing of late. But she adored her fiancé, didn’t she, had since being a young lass? Besides, as with Daniel, Lizzie would never go back on her word, whatever happened, was too decent a person, Laura was certain.
‘’Ere, one day, we might even own our very own confectioner’s,’ her friend continued. ‘Mebbe a string of them all over Manchester … Fancy that.’ Rolling her eyes, she let out a guffaw. ‘Aye, in our ruddy dreams, eh, love!’
Laura laughed along, though, inside, she was secretly trembling with excitement. That her friend had had the idea, too! But no, what was she thinking? She’d talked herself out of it, had she not? Throughout all those sleepless nights and right into the mornings, she’d told herself she couldn’t touch that haul. It wasn’t hers to spend. But oh, imagine …
No. It could never be. Yet what was she to do with it? It couldn’t stay buried up in her bedroom for ever. Why had she even fetched it here? She should have left the tin and all it represented where it was. Every cursed thing that had gone wrong in her life stemmed from that money. It was tainted, evil. She wanted no part in it; not now, not ever. No good could possibly come from it.
She was still agonising over what to do later as she walked the few yards to Joyce’s house for dinner. If she was honest, she’d have preferred to stay at home with her troubled thoughts, but her mother-in-law had been insistent – it was her way of making sure that Laura got a proper meal inside her; she was convinced she wasn’t eating right, what with her working every hour God sent – and she hadn’t the heart to turn Joyce down.
As the three of them tucked into rabbit pie Laura tried her best to make small talk with mother and son, but it was useless; she couldn’t turn her mind to anything but Lizzie’s words and the money sitting in the drawer across the way. By the time the meal was finished and Joyce left to go and fill the kettle at the pump for a last cup of tea, Laura was at her wits’ end; she turned to Daniel, saying in a rush, ‘I need to speak with thee, lad. Will you come to mine after when it’s quiet?’
‘What’s afoot?’
‘Please, not here. I must see thee alone.’
Hearing his mother returning, he nodded, frowning, and Laura breathed a sigh of relief. God willing, Daniel would know what to do.
She was sitting darning by her own fire later, though with only half her mind on the task, when the tapping came at the door. Flinging the sock she’d been mending into her sewing bag, she rushed to open it.
‘Hello, lass.’
‘Oh. It’s thee.’ Her face fell. No amount of trying could bring the semblance of a smile to her lips.
‘Can I come in?’
‘Well, now’s not really a good time …’
‘Please, Laura.’
Inwardly wincing at the hurt lurking behind his eyes, she nodded. Holding the door wide, she let Edwin Howarth inside.
‘Tea?’
He shook his head.
‘Please, sit down,’ she said after a long silence, and he pulled out a chair at the table. She did likewise then trained her eyes on her clasped hands in her lap.
‘I’ve called a few times since … but ain’t been able to catch thee in.’
‘Sorry,’ she murmured.
‘I know it ain’t proper to drop by so late in t’ evening, only I figured I’d have more luck this way.’ He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘We need to talk, lass.’
‘Aye.’
‘Have you given thought to my offer?’
She’d done barely anything else. She nodded.
‘And?’
‘I don’t know.’
His swallow was audible. He blew out air loudly. ‘Well, least it’s not an outright nay.’
‘I need more time, Edwin.’
‘How much more?’
‘I don’t know, I just …’ She lifted her eyes to his with a sigh. ‘I don’t love thee. And if you were to be honest, you don’t love me neither, not really. It’s companionship you seek and, if I were to agree to marry thee, it’d be for the same reason. It works for some couples, aye, I’m sure, but I’ve come to realise it’s not for me. I can’t live like that, I can’t, for it’s not enough. If ever I wed again, it must be for love. D’you see?’
‘Aye,’ he admitted dully after some moments. ‘I understand.’
‘I’m so sorry, Edwin.’
‘Ay, now. Eeh, come here.’ He put his arms around her and held her close. ‘Don’t you dwell on it no more, you hear? It were but a silly owd man’s wishful dreaming is all.’
‘You really don’t hate me?’
‘Nay, nay!’
‘But I’ve messed thee about summat rotten, and for so long, I have, I—’
‘And now you’re being honest and have had the decency to put me from my misery. I blame thee not. It were a selfish thing I did, putting thee in such a situation as that.’
‘We can still be friends?’ she asked, savouring the comforting feel of the fatherly embrace, so very much like Amos’s.
‘You just try and stop me.’
‘Eeh, Edwin.’
Soon afterwards, standing on the step waving the coal merchant off, she spotted Daniel leaving his house. She let him in and, after closing the door, turned to see him rooted in the centre of the kitchen, his face a picture of misery. She walked towards him and he watched her from beneath hooded lids, his shoulders hunched as though in dread of what was to come.
‘That was Edwin Howarth just now.’
The man in front of her didn’t respond.
‘He wanted an answer to his proposal. I … I turned him down.’
‘Laura …’ Daniel closed his eyes. ‘You’ll never know what this means to me. Lass, I can’t, I must …’
She tried to resist, but her soul cried out for him just as ardently – going against all she’d sworn must never be, she let herself be swept up in his strong arms.
He rained kisses on to her neck then pressed his cheek to hers. ‘I’m not a weak man, but by God. The struggle to keep my hands off thee … it’s unbearable.’
‘Lad, oh lad …’
‘The night … let me stay. Let me love thee. Say aye. Please.’
One little word. That’s all it would take to have what she’d dreamed about, yearned for with every inch of her, for so very long. One word.
