by Vicky Adin
Gwenna flashed a smile at the man as they exchanged money and goods. “Would you like one of these too?” she asked, coming around the side of the counter and bending down to offer the child a small lollipop.
“No, she wouldn’t,” the man snapped, putting his hand between Gwenna and the child. “I’ve spent what I’m going to.”
Gwenna had been so wound up and worried it could all go wrong she sucked in air and put her hand against her chest. Goggled-eyed with worry, she stood up straight. Blinking away a sharp tingle in her eyes, Gwenna gushed, “No, sir. Oh, no. That’s not what I meant. It’s free. I’m giving them away to my first customers. I’m sorry if you thought otherwise ...”
The man’s attitude changed in an instant. “Well, in that case,” he grinned. “Thank you, mistress. Thank you.” Still smiling, he turned to his daughter. “You may have the lollipop, Cora.” The girl accepted the proffered treat and whispered a thank you.
The man eyed Gwenna for a few seconds. “You’ll do well if you carry on as you started. Good luck.” He tipped his hat and Gwenna watched as the two of them left.
A voice dragged her attention back to the people in front of her and Gwenna forgot about the little girl. An hour later the shop was still teeming and reverberating with chatter, the ding of teacups and the rustle of people and chairs moving. The tinkle of the bell attached to the door announcing more customers added to the background noise. All five of the small tables were occupied and a steady stream of people visited the counter.
Not for one moment had Gwenna dreamt so many customers would come on her first day, despite the numerous advertisements Tom had put in the newspapers on her behalf. She barely had time to breathe as she turned from one client to the next.
Beside her, Tillie was busy measuring out quarters and taking orders for hot drinks and delivering them to the tables when Bethan rang the connecting bell to tell them an order was ready.
“Next, please,” said Gwenna as she faced the closest customer.
Mr Turner removed his hat. His face beamed and he turned to the woman beside him. “May I introduce my wife, Mrs Maude Turner. Maude, dear, this is the young lady I was telling you about. Mrs Gwenna Price.”
Gwenna recognised the great compliment she’d been paid. Mrs Turner resided at their property at Huia and, by all accounts, rarely came to the city. Gwenna bobbed a quick curtsy.
The room went quiet when Mrs Turner spoke. “How delightful to meet you, Mrs Price,” she said. “I’ve heard so much about you, and now I’ve visited your charming establishment, I will be certain to tell my friends and acquaintances of its appeal.”
Blushing with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure, Gwenna hid her elation. “Thank you, Mrs Turner. I am honoured by your presence. May I get you something?”
Mr Turner surveyed the room before answering. “You appear exceedingly busy, Mrs Price, so we won’t stay to have tea this time, but could you prepare a pound box of your superior treats for Mrs Turner, please.”
For the next few minutes, Maude Turner indicated to Gwenna which of the fudge, chocolates, caramels and sweets she wanted. These Gwenna placed into a white cake box and tied it with ribbons suitable for carrying.
“Goodbye, Mrs Price, and thank you,” said Mrs Turner accepting the box. “I am sure we will enjoy your treats very much.”
Mr Turner replaced his hat, winked at Gwenna and escorted his wife to the door. In a voice loud enough to be heard from across the room, he said, “Good luck, Mrs Price. Although I’m not at all sure you need it. You have a successful business here already.”
The moment the door closed behind him the hubbub of voices began again. Gwenna had secured her position thanks to Mrs Turner,
The remaining hours disappeared in a whirl. The parades had been due to start at two o’clock and Gwenna expected trade to drop off, but it hadn’t. Her feet throbbed, her head spun and her back ached, but the plates of fudge lay empty and the pile of dirty dishes and the half-empty canisters told their own story. Not long after four o’clock, came the second surprise of the day. Gwenna stared stupidly at the two women standing there until Tillie nudged her into action.
“Louisa. Janie. What an agreeable surprise. How lovely to see you,” effused Gwenna, unsettled by their appearance and hoping nothing bad would come of it.
The women kissed the air next to each other’s cheek in greeting, while the two older women removed their gloves and scrutinised the premises. All bar one of the tables were now empty.
Tillie left them to serve the two customers who came in to buy a bag of lollies on their way home, while Gwenna talked about the changes she’d made. A few moments later, the last two ladies at the table by the fireplace rose. Leaving Tillie to chat with the stepsisters, Gwenna excused herself and saw the ladies to the door.
“Thank you for coming, today. I do hope you will call again,” Gwenna said, handing them a free bag of lollies as she closed the door behind them.
“Would you care for some tea? Or hot chocolate maybe,” Tillie offered her siblings.
“Thank you, no. We can’t stay,” said Louisa, taking in every detail of the room. “We called in to see what all the fuss was about.”
Fuss? Good news, Gwenna guessed. But what had they heard?
Janetta was kinder. “What a pretty shop, Gwenna. It’s so light and airy and I do like your decor.” Wandering to the sideboard, she observed the nearly empty plates but made no comment, and ran her hand along the shiny woodwork.
“Where did you purchase this?” she asked. “It’s rather lovely. I wouldn’t mind something like this for my home.”
“You don’t have the space for it,” snapped Louisa.
“I will one day, Louisa, and in the meantime, I can dream,” replied Janetta.
“You don’t appear to have anything to offer us anyway, Gwenna,” said Louisa, staring pointedly at the sideboard. “Come along, Janetta. I must be going.”
Gwenna and Tillie exchanged glances. Tillie imperceptibly shook her head to warn Gwenna not to say anything, but she couldn’t resist.
“Goodbye, Louisa. Thank you for stopping by, even for such a short time.” Linking her arm with Janetta, Gwenna walked her to the door. “I do hope you will come again, Janie, and I bought the sideboard from Mr Thomas Woodman, in Burleigh St, off Mt Eden Road.” Janetta could find out for herself who the craftsman was.
They didn’t close until after five o’clock, as it happened, because another influx of people arrived just as Louisa and Janetta were leaving, to Louisa’s dismay.
“Don’t glare, sister dear,” Gwenna heard Janetta say as they stepped down into the street. “Frown lines will spoil your lovely face.”
Astounded by the change in Janetta, Gwenna could not begin to guess what had happened to give Janie the upper hand.
Later, after they’d finished cleaning up and Gwenna had changed her lace-up heeled boots for a pair of comfortable brocade slippers, she chatted with Tillie, Tom and Bethan about their day over a welcome cup of tea in the kitchen.
“Congratulations,” said Tillie. “You couldn’t have wished for a better day.”
All Tillie’s fudge sold, and the hot chocolate proved popular. Gwenna had given away numerous lollipops to youngsters coming in with a parent, and most of her free twists of sweets had been distributed to the adults who sat at a table.
“Thank you, Tillie, but my goodness me, I’m glad to sit down.” She stretched her feet in front of her and wiggled her toes. “And I’m going to have to be careful which shoes I wear in future; my feet are killing me.”
“Mine too,” said Tillie, changing her shoes. “I don’t remember ever having stood for so long.”
Bethan waggled her foot showing a sensible satin pump with a long tongue and decorative buckle on the front. “You’ll learn,” she chuckled.
“Whatever the state of your feet, ladies, sounds to me like you have a winning combination,” said Tom, biting into a piece of ginger slice Bethan had made as an extra
. “Charlie and I had fun too. Didn’t we, Charlie?”
Under Tom’s care, Charlie had blossomed and become a different child to the thin, sickly boy of not much more than a year ago. Apart from a cough, he’d not been sick over the winter like he used to be. Coming up nine in February, he’d thickened out and grown several inches, but more importantly, the boy was happy. He was succeeding at school, proving to be a great help to Bethan with the babies, whom he adored, and helping Gwenna by running messages.
“Yeah. We did, Tom.” Charlie nodded, excited by his day out, but before Tom could continue, Tillie butted in to tell him and Bethan about the other events of the day.
“Mrs Turner played her part so well. Everyone in the room would have heard every word, but I’m positive Mr Turner set it all up. Gwenna is certain to get lots of customers now, once the word gets around. And I’m sure it will.”
Gwenna hoped Tillie was right. So much rested on the shop being successful, reminding her she still had work to do this evening to prepare for the morning.
“But you should have been there when Louisa and Janetta arrived. Louisa pouted as if she had a sour plum in her mouth, but she couldn’t resist coming in to sneer.”
Gwenna rested her hand on Bethan’s and gave it a little squeeze. The family had fragmented so much since Pa died, sometimes they forgot Bethan was the mother to seven. From the first day little Georgie was born, Gwenna had understood what they meant by a ‘mother’s love’, likewise for Tillie and Olwen. And it wasn’t something that went away, never mind what happened. Gwenna’s heart ached for Bethan. How could Louisa be so disagreeable when her mother didn’t have an unkind thought in her whole being?
“I feel sorry for that girl,” said Bethan. “Something is wrong in her life for her to be so unpleasant, especially to you, Gwenna. She doted on you when you were little.”
Gwenna hadn’t considered that possibility. Could Louisa’s nastiness be a sign of unhappiness?
“So why doesn’t Janie say something?” asked Tillie. “They’re always together.”
“Janie worshipped her older sister and wanted to be just like her,” explained Bethan. “When they were little, Louisa was the sparkling one. Always so bright and cheerful, and even more so when she was the centre of attention, but she could get terribly jealous at times. Janie was the shy one in comparison and followed in her sister’s wake, hoping the sun would fall on her sometimes. She still does, but Janie underestimated herself. She has a loving heart.”
The more Gwenna listened to Bethan’s reasoning, the more it made sense. Louisa behaved badly when she needed attention, until someone – most often Janetta – gave her the comfort she craved. Hers was a recipe for control. Gwenna could see it all now, but what did any of it have to do with her or the shop? A small niggle squirmed. Something wasn’t right.
While her thoughts meandered, Gwenna paid little heed to Tom describing the colourful parade floats, the flags and bunting flying from the many buildings, the noise from the brass and Highland bands and the street sellers, but she was all ears when Charlie spoke.
“There was a boy my age down there with a tray hung around his neck selling lollies and sherberts and them sore throat lollies in little papers bags. Can I do that, Gwenna?”
Gwenna tried to find out who sent the boy out selling, and which shop the lollies came from, but Charlie shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno, do I? I didn’t ask, but I could do better, I reckon.”
He had it all worked out. “This boy just stood with his back against a wall and waited for people to pass by before he’d ask if they wanted some. But I’d do what Mr Turner does and call out. And move amongst the crowd too. Bit of a risk someone would swipe a bag or two, but you gotta make sure you’re noticed.”
Three adults chuckled at his tale, but Gwenna took him seriously.
“Do you know what, young Charlie, maybe next time you could.”
“What on earth are you contemplating now?” asked Tillie.
“Precisely what Charlie said. Street selling. Give me time to figure out how it would work best, what the costs would be, and what the tray could look like, but it could be achievable.” Gwenna stretched her aching back and put her hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. “But I can’t think about it now, I’ve work to do.”
* * *
Gwenna rose when Georgie stirred with the dawn. The early morning time when he first woke warm and soft became their special time. She would feed him, bathe him with orange or violet water, use Vaseline on any rashes, rub him over with Bethan’s special skin lotion and dress him in fresh clothes. After lots of cuddles, he soon snuggled back to sleep, and she could attend to her own ablutions.
Thankful for running water in the house, even if it didn’t have a separate bathroom, she’d bought herself a new washstand with a particularly pretty ewer and bowl, decorated with mauve roses the exact colour of the dress she was longing to wear again, the one Tillie had made for her wedding, which seemed a lifetime ago but was less than a year.
She dashed into the privy built onto the end of the back verandah next to the laundry, collected hot water from the copper tank beside the firebox, mixed it with cold water from the scullery and returned to her room. After adding a few drops of the scented water Bethan had made to the bowl, Gwenna sponged herself from top to toe. Feeling fresh and revived, she dressed in her usual black silk dress trimmed with purple, which had become her staple for working in the shop, and styled her hair into her favourite shape. Brushing it softly back from her face, she let her naturally curly hair fall in wavy ringlets down the back of her head. Fastening a pair of small, dangly jet earrings in place, she patted the front of her hair into shape with a touch of oil and left the room, taking the bowl with her.
In the kitchen, she donned a large white apron and settled into the sugar boiling routine she and Tillie had worked out. The whole operation was still new and raw, and they made mistakes. Gwenna blistered her hand more than once, when in too much of a hurry to turn and stretch the sugar before it cooled enough, and Tillie’s fudge failed one morning because she’d overslept and was in a rush, and they ran out. As the weeks passed, Bethan complained Gwenna wasn’t eating enough and offered to bring her a cup of tea, or some bread and cheese, or a bowl of soup, but Gwenna was too busy to stop. To help out, Bethan had, at long last, agreed to answer the telephone if neither Gwenna nor Tillie were around. She wrote the requests in the order book, tore out the top page, clipped the orders together and hung them from the hook above Gwenna’s hot plate for her to fill. Thankfully, orders from the markets had increased, and her regular customers remained steady, both of which kept the books healthy, but she found it a struggle to keep up with the orders mounting up on the hook, and she fretted about the shop.
She longed for the words ‘let’s meet at Gwenna’s’ to trip off many a tongue before the summer season arrived, but they’d not had a crowd waiting at the door since their first day. While she still believed a ten o’clock opening was early enough, fewer customers came to her door and trade was inconsistent, despite Mrs Turner’s visit.
Bit by bit, Gwenna discovered which days needed more provisions than others, and which flavours were the most popular. Despite not knowing how many customers they would have or when they would arrive, and to keep the customers guessing and coming back for more, she introduced Bethan’s Welsh cakes sprinkled with caster sugar, and her bara brith fruit loaf, on alternate days. On Saturday half-holiday everything was available, including her own specialty caramels and Tillie’s fudge, which Gwenna made exclusive to the shop.
But it seemed, never mind what she did, nothing turned out quite as planned.
27
Success comes to those who try
October 1900
Elias could hardly believe what Woody was saying.
“The rimu sideboard you made has been sold. Didn’t I tell you it would be the first to go?”
Most of the time, Elias made the smaller items: side tables, wall racks, coat and
hat stands, and portable writing boxes. He’d learnt a lot in the last ten months but he still had more to learn. He wanted perfection, but Woody assured him his skills were far superior to many who’d been at the lathe a lot longer.
One day, Woody suggested Elias try his hand at a larger piece. The timber Woody offered him had suited his idea perfectly, but the project had taken longer than Elias had expected, and he’d only finished it a few days earlier. “Sold? Already. My goodness. Who to?”
“Didn’t I tell you it was a fine piece and would be snapped up. It went to a new establishment about to open. The owner said it would be ideal for the purpose.”
Woody didn’t elaborate and Elias didn’t ask any further questions. For the first time, he felt as if he was doing something worthwhile, and which would bring greater rewards to the business.
Working on the sideboard had kept him sane and given him purpose. The intricacies of the cupboards and getting the hinges to sit so the doors shut exactly against the shelves, the dovetailing of the drawers and the polishing of the long top, brought him a degree of satisfaction out of the wasteland he’d created.
After the exhausting and traumatic events surrounding the death of Johnno Jones, he’d felt all his anger and hatred returning. He wanted to lash out – at the police, at Gwenna, at anyone he could point the finger at – even, obscurely, Woody, for seeing his shame. Alice had been shocked by what she’d learnt after Woody had dragged him away from the clutches of the police. She’d sat and listened, saying nothing, getting paler by the moment.
