Maddy sat in silence. Perhaps it was not the most respectful way to address one’s employer, but he had asked for it by being so unreasonable. While she sat there, Cal reached out and rang a bell. When Ellen appeared he said, Tell Joshua to harness up the pony and trap, will you?’
‘You’m idn’t going out again at this hour?’ the maid said disapprovingly.
‘Yes, I am,’ replied Cal. ‘And to save you catching a chill listening at the keyhole, I’ll tell you that I’m taking Miss Shillabeer home.’
‘Miss Shillabeer now, be un?’ Ellen’s disapproval grew.
‘There’s no need to drive me home!’ exclaimed Maddy. ‘It’s no distance.’
‘I think there is a need,’ replied Cal. ‘You’ve had a tiring day and if you’re to be up at Totnes early tomorrow then you must get some rest.’
‘I’m still in charge of the shop, am I?’
‘I don’t know. It depends on you.’
‘No, it depends on you and if you accept my estimate of expenses.’
‘I accept it, most humbly. I should have known better than to query it. From now on you are in complete charge of setting up the shop, and I shall not interfere.’
‘That be settled then,’ observed Ellen, who had been listening to the exchange without shame. ‘You’m still needing the pony and trap. I’ll go and speak to Joshua.’
The next few weeks were the most eventful in Maddy’s life. No two days were alike, as workmen came and went and the shop gradually emerged from its decayed state and began to look presentable. Cal was as good as his word and did not interfere. He made one of his rare visits a couple of days before the shop was due to open. Through the newly-glazed windows Maddy saw him approach, stop and look at the shop front, then frown. She knew the cause of his disapproval – it was the sign writer, skilfully and meticulously putting the finishing touches to the name board above the window.
‘I hope you approve,’ she said, going out to greet him. ‘I did mention it to you.’
‘You mentioned it, certainly. I just didn’t anticipate anything so ornate.’
Together they gazed at the board bearing the legend ‘The Oakwood Farm Cider Shop’ surrounded by a garland of oak leaves.
Having finished the final curlicue, the signwriter came down from his ladder to join them. ‘There, Miss Shillabeer, wadn’t I right to persuade you to have the gold lining?’ he said, regarding his handiwork with satisfaction. ‘Makes all the difference, does gold lining. ’Tis worth the bit extra. Adds a real touch of quality, it do.’
Maddy was careful to avoid Cal’s eyes, especially at the reference to the ‘bit extra’. The name board was her one cause for anxiety. ‘It was my only extravagance,’ she said. ‘And you’ve got to admit it does look good.’
‘Oh yes,’ agreed Cal drily. ‘Adds a real touch of quality, it do.’
She led the way into the shop. Cal looked about and nodded his approval. ‘You’ve done a lot in a short time,’ he said. ‘But without this your hard work would be in vain.’ He laid a paper on the new counter. ‘The licence. Signed and sealed at the magistrates’ court this very morning.’
‘It’s got my name on!’ exclaimed Maddy.
‘That’s right. You’re the licensee.’
To the best of her knowledge, with the exception of the parish register at birth, Maddy had never had her name on an official document before. Seeing ‘Madeleine Elizabeth Shillabeer’ written in authoritative copperplate filled her with an unexpected pride, as if she had suddenly become a person of consequence.
‘How did you know my middle name?’ she asked.
Cal shrugged. ‘I made enquiries,’ he said.
‘You’ve been discussing me with folk?’ she asked in some alarm.
‘No, of course not! Don’t look so disapproving. It was your stepmother who told me. I had to know your full name, otherwise I could not have applied for the licence on your behalf.’
Maddy was somewhat mollified. Pleased as she was at this new development in her life, she did not like the idea of him discussing her with all and sundry. She would have asked Cal more about her responsibilities as a licensee if, at that moment, his foot had not hit against a bucket that stood on the floor. Water splashed over his boot, but it was not that that caused his frown. He regarded first the bucket, along with its accompanying soap and scrubbing brush, and then the sacking apron which Maddy had hastily discarded upon his arrival and thrown on the counter.
‘You’ve been using these?’ he demanded.
‘Of course.’
‘You mean you’ve been scrubbing the floor?’
‘Certainly. Who else would do it?’
‘Heavens above, Maddy, when I asked you to take on the shop I did not intend you to do everything including the skivvying!’
‘It needed doing and it seemed quicker and easier to do it myself,’ she replied.
‘It may have been quicker, but it certainly could not have been easier. You are to get someone in to do the dirty jobs, do you hear? I don’t know why you didn’t think of it before.’ Maddy refused to admit that the reason had been her determination to set up the shop on exactly the budget he had allowed. Her pride refused to let her ask him for more money.
‘Very well,’ she said. In truth, clearing up after the painter was a clean and easy task compared to some of the filthy jobs she had already tackled about the place, but she kept quiet about those.
Cal, however, was eyeing her suspiciously. ‘I fear I’ve been lax,’ he said. ‘I should have kept a closer eye on you. I fancy you may have been slaving away here on my behalf, working far harder than you should have done. It’s to stop, do you hear? You are now the licensee of the Oakwood Farm Cider Shop, a person of importance. It’s beneath your dignity to scrub floors.’ While Maddy was trying to decide whether he was joking or serious he suddenly rapped out, ‘How do you get here each day?’
‘I come by river.’
‘I presumed that much but how?’
‘The tide was right today; I rowed myself.’
‘And I suppose you’re going to row yourself home again.’
‘Of course. It costs good money to be ferried to and fro all the time. I thought I’d take advantage of the handy tides while I could.’
He clutched at his hair in a gesture of exasperation. ‘Was there ever such a woman? Just because you are in my employment doesn’t mean I expect you to be a slave. I know I have a reputation as a skinflint, but surely I’m not as bad as that!’
Maddy regarded him blankly, surprised at the underlying note of distress in his voice. ‘I never said you were a skinflint,’ she said. ‘You gave me a job to do, and I’m trying to do it within the budget you set. Admittedly it isn’t easy at the moment, not with getting everything started, but I’ve worked harder many a time, and for less money.’
He returned her gaze, slowly shaking his head. ‘Whatever my drawbacks as an employer,’ he said, ‘I can certainly pick the right worker for the job. And having picked the right worker, I have no intention of letting her wear herself out. This very day you will find yourself an assistant to help you and do the menial work. From now on Joshua will bring you to work in the pony and trap, and fetch you back in the evening.’
‘I can’t do that!’ Maddy protested. ‘What will people say?’
‘They will say that Farmer Whitcomb isn’t quite the miser he is made out to be.’ He drew his brows together in a mock frown. ‘You are going to argue, I can see it in your face. Well, I won’t stand for it. You will be driven to Totnes each day, like it or not.’
‘I do like it… and thank you,’ replied Maddy. ‘I’ll admit I was not looking forward to the river journey in the winter.’ She was grateful for his consideration, and also rather surprised. That Cal knew of his own harsh reputation was obvious, but she had not realised how much it stung him.
‘That’s settled then.’ Having dealt with the matter, Cal clearly dismissed it from his mind and turned his attention back to the shop. ‘Wh
en do you think you will be ready to open?’
‘Monday next. That is if I can have the cider delivery on Friday, or Saturday at the latest.’
‘First thing on Friday it will be. Let me have your order as soon as possible, please.’
Maddy went to a drawer in the counter and took out a piece of paper. ‘Here it is,’ she said confidently, her voice giving no hint of the hours of trepidation and uncertainty that the single sheet had cost her.
‘I had a feeling you would have it ready,’ he said, scanning the list. ‘I’m glad to see that you mean to begin modestly, with no wild extravagances. Is there anything else you’ll need for the opening?’
‘I don’t think so, thank you. Will you be coming?’
‘Of course. Do you think we should do something special? Maybe cut a ribbon across the door frame, or smash a bottle of Superior on the step?’
He was joking, but Maddy’s reply was serious – and somewhat nervous. ‘I’ve already attended to that,’ she said. ‘No, not a ribbon or anything of that sort. I’ve put an advert in this week’s Totnes Times saying there is a free pint of cider each for the first ten customers, and that the one hundredth customer on opening day will receive a free bottle of Superior.’
She waited tensely for his reaction.
‘Giving away a free bottle of Superior! That will definitely attract more custom than smashing one on the doorstep,’ he said with approval. ‘A hundred customers – that’s a goodly number for one day. Do you think you’ll achieve that many?’
‘I hope we do. People will come out of curiosity if naught else.’
‘And having sampled our wares will realise the worth of Oakwood Cider and become lifelong customers, is that the plan?’
‘Something of the sort,’ said Maddy, hoping she was right.
* * *
The weather could not have been more advantageous for opening day. From early morning the sun shone down relentlessly out of a sky of unrelieved blue; by the time Maddy flung open the shop door she already had an uncomfortable damp patch between her shoulder blades. The first customers who jostled for the privilege of free cider were dockers from the nearby quayside, hot and thirsty from finishing loading slates onto a boat that had had to be away on the early tide.
‘That went down proper handsome,’ declared one man, downing his free pint in a single swallow. ‘Would’ve tasted just as sweet even if I’d had to pay for un.’
‘Why don’t you buy the next one, then you’ll find out for sure?’ suggested Maddy, to much laughter.
Serving the cider and listening to the men’s comments, Maddy learned her first lesson. The dockers worked according to the tide, not the clock. Therefore, whenever possible, the shop would have to open likewise.
‘We’ve got a fair crowd,’ said Cal with satisfaction. He had been in the shop since half an hour before opening, his censorious eye going over the shelves neatly stacked with bottles of Superior and stone flagons of Regular, and at the standing hogsheads of draught cider, both Regular and Rough. Only when he had given a nod of approval had Maddy unlocked the shop door.
‘We’ve this heat on our side, and there are several boats in being loaded and unloaded,’ said Maddy. ‘Along with novelty, we’ve a few advantages today.’
‘And what about a top quality cider?’
‘There is that, of course,’ Maddy admitted laughing. ‘Let’s hope it’s enough to keep the customers coming.’
‘What else would we need?’ demanded Cal.
‘Luck.’ said Maddy.
The first day was an unqualified success. The bottle of ‘Superior’ was handed over to the hundredth customer by mid-afternoon, forcing Maddy to offer another bottle for the one hundred and fiftieth, then the two hundredth, both of which were claimed before they finally closed.
‘Off you go home, Nan,’ said Maddy, addressing the girl she had employed to help her. ‘You’ve done well today.’
‘’Tis good of you to say so, Miss Shillabeer,’ Nan gave a huge yawn. ‘But idn’t you coming too? If you’m half as weary as me you won’t hardly know how to put one foot in front of the other.’
‘I’ll admit I’m very tired, but I’ve to total up the money before I leave,’ said Maddy. ‘You can go now. Be sure to be here good and early tomorrow.’
‘I will, Miss Shillabeer, don’t worry.’ Nan made for the door, but came to an abrupt halt with a squeak of alarm. ‘Oh lor’, ’tis Mr Whitcomb. I be going out the back way.’ And she fled towards the rear of the shop.
‘Why did Nan dash out like that?’ he asked as he entered.
‘She’s frightened of you.’
‘Is she? Sensible girl. You did well to find her.’ He placed his hat on the counter. ‘I wish more of my employees held me in the same dread.’
‘If you’re referring to me then you’re a little late in your wishing.’ Maddy had scarcely looked up at his entrance, she was engrossed in counting the piles of money in front of her. Then, suddenly the full implications of his presence struck her. ‘You didn’t have to fetch me yourself!’ she exclaimed. ‘Joshua could have brought me to Oakwood to let you know how things have gone.’
‘Let’s just say that I was too impatient to wait.’ He nodded first at the pile of coins and then at the shelves. ‘It would seem that we had a good day.’
Maddy looked at the depleted shelves that would need restocking before they opened in the morning. ‘A very good day,’ she agreed. ‘But the real test will be how much trade we’re doing at the end of three or four months.’
‘Do I detect a touch of pessimism?’
She shook her head. ‘No, just weariness.’
‘Since you’ve finished totalling up, let’s put the money in the strongbox and be on our way. Immediately!’ he stressed when she showed signs of finding further tasks to do.
It was a long slow climb out of the town, but Maddy did not mind their snail’s pace. She was so fatigued that she was content to sit in silence. When her initial weariness had eased, she began to take pleasure in the journey. She had walked this way many a time, and now here she was, Maddy Shillabeer, riding these selfsame lanes up beside Cal Whitcomb.
‘You’re very quiet. Is something wrong?’ asked Cal.
‘No, I was just thinking how life has changed of late, with me working for you and everything.’
‘Yes, things are somewhat different. Your family seems to have accepted the new state of affairs remarkably well. I wish I could say the same for my mother.’
‘She still doesn’t approve of having a Shillabeer about the place? That’s a pity. Much of the credit for changing my father’s attitude must go to my stepmother. She has always thought the feud was stupid and has kept saying so in no uncertain terms. Perhaps you should encourage your mother to marry again – if you could bear the idea of a stepfather, that is.’
Cal let out a shout of laughter that made the pony start. ‘If we wait for that to end our family quarrel then we will be waiting on Judgment Day,’ he chuckled. ‘My mother reckons that marrying my father was once too often.’
‘Then you must marry, and provide her with a houseful of grandchildren to take her mind off things.’
‘It sounds an extreme and chancy way to end the feud.’
‘Why? Are you against matrimony?’
‘Not at all, and I suppose it is time I was wed – if I can find the right woman.’
‘I would not have thought you hard to please. I know you are susceptible to a pretty face.’
‘I am and I don’t deny it, but pretty faces don’t come into it. Marriage for me will be a matter of business. It is how things have always been for us Whitcombs. Advantageous marriages are how we have survived and prospered. But when I do find a suitable wife, she must be certain in her own mind that she wants to wed me. I will have no one who is being forced into it by others.’ .
‘I wish you happiness,’ said Maddy. She was regretting the flippant remark of hers that had introduced the subject, for Cal’s matr
imonial prospects sounded bleak.
‘And what of you?’ demanded Cal in a more cheery voice. ‘What marriage plans have you?’
‘None at all,’ she replied firmly. ‘I intend to devote my life to making a success of the Oakwood Farm Cider Shop.’
‘Since that is much to my advantage, I won’t argue with your sentiments,’ said Cal, ‘but I hope you don’t expect me to feel guilty at being the cause of such self-sacrifice.’
‘I don’t,’ Maddy assured him cheerily.
They had reached the top of Duncannon Lane now and, bidding Cal good night, Maddy hurried homewards. As she went she felt curiously depressed. It was sad to think of Cal destined for such a cold and loveless future. He was a good man, and he was worthy of much more. As for herself, all hopes of marriage were so firmly behind her now that she could think of them with hardly a hint of pain. If she set her thoughts towards the future and her new career, she was certain she could snuff out for ever the last shadowy ache that lingered near her heart.
* * *
The cider shop flourished through the long, hot summer, and Maddy was kept busy and content. And then as a crisp autumn set in, Mollie presented Lew with a fine healthy son.
‘A seven-month babe be un?’ remarked Joan in an aside to Maddy when they went to admire the new arrival. ‘’Tis a miracle he didn’t go full term, else he’d have been a little giant.’ Then her sceptical expression softened as she gazed at the babe and cooed, ‘But idn’t he a fine boy, bless him? And the image of his daddy.’
‘What are you going to call him?’ asked Maddy, amused at her stepmother’s mixed reactions.
‘John Lewis Shillabeer,’ pronounced Lew proudly. ‘Mercifully both his grandads have John in their names, us won’t have no falling out there, and of course he be Lewis after me.’
‘John Lewis Shillabeer!’ Jack sounded as proud as the new father, but it was more than passing on his Christian name that was pleasing him. ‘Yer, boy, do you realise summat? Us’ve four Shillabeers now – you, me, Charlie and the babe. You get us another un like this one quick and us’ll be back to having a family crew for the salmon fishing in no time.’
Daughter of the River Page 36
